Chapter 448: Blood Field
"How... did you do that?" Nyssa asked, the words coming out before she could restrain them. There was no composure in it now only raw astonishment. She moved quickly to the edge of the wall and looked down, scanning the scene below with sharp, searching eyes. The army of Denvaar stood there alive, intact, disoriented but unharmed thousands of soldiers who had, only moments ago, been in the middle of a collapsing battlefield. Now they stood safely beneath the walls, looking around in confusion, trying to understand what had just happened. Nyssa’s breath caught slightly as she took it in. This wasn’t just power. This wasn’t even something she could classify within the system she understood. In a world where magic was structured, studied, and bounded even at its highest levels there was no such thing as true teleportation, nothing like this. Not instant.. Nor across that distance, and certainly not for tens of thousands of individuals at once. It felt less like a spell and more like a violation of the rules themselves. For a brief moment, the thought came uninvited if someone told her a god had descended and done this, she would not have argued.
Her mind tried to break it down anyway. Thirty thousand soldiers, at least. That meant he had located each one individually, in the middle of chaos, while they were moving, fighting, reacting. He had tracked their positions, predicted their immediate motion, accounted for interference, and then applied his ability without overlap, without error. As.. Not a single golem had been pulled in with them. Not one mistake. And it had all happened in less than a breath. The level of concentration required alone should have been impossible. The energy cost... she couldn’t even begin to estimate it. Even if there had been a known spell for something like this, no mage alive should have been able to execute it at that scale, with that level of control.. Right?
Behind her, the soldiers who had remained on the wall had also begun to move, stepping closer to the edge, looking down at their comrades. Confusion, disbelief, relief everything mixed together. Some called out names. Others simply stared. No one understood what they had just witnessed, only that it had saved them.
Nyssa drew in a slow breath and turned back toward Razeal, her gaze sharper now, filled with questions she wasn’t sure how to phrase.
But before she could speak
The shadow at their feet shifted again.
It moved like liquid, spreading and pooling unnaturally before rising slightly, as if something beneath it was forcing its way through. Then, without warning, a figure was expelled from it.
A man stumbled out, landing roughly on the stone, his body tense and immediately reactive. He was large, heavily built, his armor shattered in places, his long brown hair matted with sweat and blood. One of his arms was gone torn off cleanly from the shoulder and the remaining one lifted instinctively as he tried to orient himself, eyes scanning for threats.
He had been mid-battle.
He froze for a fraction of a second as his surroundings registered the wall, the soldiers, the absence of the battlefield and then his posture shifted from attack to guarded alertness.
Nyssa recognized him instantly.
"Warden Torh Kharvek..."
Her voice lowered, almost disbelieving. This was the man who had been holding the center alone. The one fighting twenty half-step Great Saint golems without retreat. And now..
He was here.
Pulled out.
Her eyes moved slowly back to Razeal, the weight of what she had just seen settling deeper now, not lighter.
"You can... do that to a Great Saint too?" she asked, the disbelief returning, but quieter this time, more focused. This wasn’t just about scale anymore. This was something else entirely.
She understood what it implied.
Every soldier had been taken by force. That much was clear. None of them had chosen to move because that would be impossible.. they had been pulled. And if that applied to Kharvek as well... then it meant Razeal had reached into the middle of a high-intensity Great Saint-level engagement and removed him without resistance. Not delayed. Not contested.
Removed.
From within a formation of twenty active enemies.
Without any resistance.
Nyssa’s gaze lingered on him, her thoughts tightening rather than spreading now. This wasn’t just a rare ability. It wasn’t even just overwhelming power.
It was control on a level she had never seen before.
And for the first time since meeting him, she didn’t just find it impressive.
She found it difficult to measure.
What kind of method was this? The question settled heavily in Nyssa’s mind as a faint, involuntary chill ran down her spine. She didn’t like how quickly the answer formed behind it. If Razeal could do this to tens of thousands of soldiers... if he could pull a Great Saint like Kharvek out of the middle of that battlefield without resistance... then what about her? Could she resist it? She didn’t know. But the fact that she couldn’t answer with certainty was enough.
Kharvek stood on the same level as her a peak Great Saint and he had been taken without even a moment to react. That alone spoke clearly. And then there was something else she remembered it now. He had brought her from the capital to the borders in the same way. Seventy miles. Instantly. No casting. No visible effort. The thought followed naturally after that. If he could do this freely... then wasn’t it possible that he could move Great Saints like pieces on a board whenever he wished? The idea was... unsettling.
Razeal noticed the shift in her expression but said nothing. There was no point addressing it. Instead, his attention moved to the man who had just been pulled from the battlefield.
Kharvek stood beside him now, tense at first, his body still carrying the instinct to fight. His breathing was heavy, uneven from prolonged combat, and blood continued to drip from the severed arm at his shoulder. But as his eyes adjusted recognizing the wall, the city, the queen, and Nyssa his posture eased slightly. Relief replaced the edge in his stance, if only by a fraction. He took a slow breath, as if reminding himself that he was no longer surrounded.
He didn’t understand how he got here. That much was clear. But he didn’t question it either. Not now.
"Lady Nyssa... it’s good that you are here," he said, his voice rough but steady. There was no time wasted on confusion. His focus snapped back to the situation as it should. "If not... it would have been a devastating loss."
Nyssa’s thoughts broke off as she turned fully toward him. Up close, the damage was worse than it looked from afar. His armor was barely holding together, and the missing arm alone was enough to tell how far he had been pushed.
Kharvek exhaled again, longer this time, his gaze briefly dropping toward the ground below where the army now stood alive, gathered beneath the wall. He noticed them immediately. All of them. The ones who should still be dying out there.
A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but he didn’t dwell on it.
"We need reinforcement," he continued, stepping slightly closer despite his condition. "Heavy reinforcement. Immediately." His remaining hand moved to his shoulder, pressing against the wound, trying to slow the blood loss as best as he could.
Nyssa stepped forward without hesitation. Her expression softened, not with weakness, but with recognition of effort, of sacrifice. She raised her hand, and a soft green light formed around it, steady and controlled. The energy wrapped around Kharvek’s wound, sealing the worst of it, slowing the bleeding, dulling the pain. It wasn’t full restoration. That would require time, resources, proper treatment. But it was enough for now.
"Lord Kharvek," she said, her voice even, carrying both authority and reassurance, Brreathe. You are safe now."
The light faded gradually as the bleeding stabilized. She lowered her hand.
"The soldiers you fought with are safe as well," she added, glancing briefly toward the gathered ranks below. "Every one of them has been pulled back."
Kharvek followed her gaze again, this time more carefully. His brow tightened slightly as the reality of it settled in.
Nyssa exhaled quietly, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction. "You don’t need to hold the battlefield alone anymore."
She withdrew her hand fully, her expression returning to its usual composure, though the concern didn’t disappear entirely.
"You’ve already done more than enough," she continued. "Holding back twenty half-step Great Saints for that long... most would not have lasted half as long." There was no exaggeration in her tone. Just fact. "Without you, the losses would have been far worse."
Kharvek didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t argue either.
Nyssa gave a small nod. "Sit, if you need to. Recover what strength you can. We’ll handle what comes next."
Even injured, even exhausted, he didn’t look like someone who would step away easily but for now, at least, the pressure had lifted.
"No... it’s not time to rest yet." Kharvek spoke before Nyssa could say anything further, his voice steadier now despite the strain in his body. He adjusted his stance slightly, ignoring the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.
"I can still fight." His gaze shifted past them, locking onto the distant battlefield where the golem army continued its advance. "You did well... bringing everyone back. They needed it." There was no hesitation in acknowledging that. But his eyes hardened a moment later. "But.. The golems are still coming."
They all followed his line of sight. Without the line of soldiers holding them back, the golem army had already begun closing the distance. Massive shapes moved steadily across the ground, unhurried but relentless. Miles away still but not for long.
"We’ve already lost the Silver Night Fortress," Kharvek continued, quieter now, but no less firm. "That loss is mine." He didn’t deflect it. Didn’t soften it. "But.. I’m in charge of this front. If I died while fighting that would be my destiny." His jaw tightened slightly as he turned back to Nyssa. "But if i stayed alive and lost the Silver Shield City also..." He paused, then finished without lowering his voice. "With that shame i wouldn’t be able to live with."
Nyssa watched him closely. She understood exactly what he meant. This wasn’t pride it was responsibility. The kind that didn’t allow retreat, even when it should.
"We are not losing Silver Shield City," she said immediately, her tone firm, leaving no space for doubt. "And we are not giving up this fight eother."
Kharvek frowned slightly at that. Not in disagreement just confusion. The certainty in her voice didn’t match the situation he had just left behind.
Nyssa didn’t explain. Instead, she turned toward Razeal.
"Lord Razeal," she said, measured, deliberate. She didn’t use "king," didn’t offer him a title he hadn’t earned but she gave him recognition, placing him alongside the other lords without hesitation. "Can you assist in healing Lord Kharvek?"
Kharvek’s eyes shifted to Razeal for the first time with proper attention. He studied him quietly. Silver hair. Crimson eyes. No visible aura. No pressure. Nothing that suggested power. To his senses, Razeal felt... ordinary. That alone made him more confused but.. cautious. Nyssa didn’t speak like that to ordinary people afterall.
He didn’t interrupt. He simply waited.
Razeal met Nyssa’s gaze briefly, then looked toward Kharvek, his eyes passing over the injury, the damage, the state of his body. He rubbed his chin lightly, thinking not hurried, not uncertain. Just assessing.
Then he looked back at Nyssa.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, "He won’t be the only one," Razeal said.
Nyssa blinked slightly. "What?"
"He and every soldier here needs healing." His tone didn’t change. It wasn’t a suggestion. Just a statement of fact. "Very well then.. I’ll handle it."
Nyssa hesitated for the first time since the situation shifted. Her thoughts immediately moved to logistics. Time. Scale and Resources.
"That would take too long," she said, practical, grounded. "We can move the injured back into the city. The healers can take over. Many can manage minor wounds themselves. The severely injured can be transported to the barracks." She gestured slightly toward the soldiers below, already beginning to reorganize. "We can still keep enough men on the wall to defend if the golems reach.."
She stopped mid-sentence.. Because she realized something.
Razeal hadn’t said "we." He had said "I."
"No. That won’t be needed," Razeal replied simply.
Nyssa frowned slightly, unsure what he meant whether he was dismissing her plan to send the soldiers back, or something else entirely. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Razeal extended his arm forward, palm facing down. For a brief second, nothing happened. Then, without warning, a thick crimson liquid began to pour from his palm, flowing down in a steady, heavy stream.
Blood.
Kharvek’s brow tightened immediately, his instincts reacting before his thoughts could catch up. The metallic scent filled the air almost instantly sharp, unmistakable. He stared at the stream in confusion, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t a wound. It seems to be controlled?
Like a fountain.
Everyone around him reacted the same way uncertain, alert, trying to understand what they were seeing.
But before anyone could question it
The ground suddenly shifted.
Where the blood touched, the stone beneath began to change, darkening, dissolving into the same viscous crimson. Then it spread. Fast. Too fast to follow properly. The liquid expanded outward in a widening circle, flowing across the wall, then beyond it down into the streets, through the city, covering everything in its path.
It didn’t stop.
Within seconds, it had spread across the entire Silver Shield City.
Every street. Every courtyard. Every open space. Even inside houses and basements.
A thin, two-inch layer of dark red covered the ground completely, moving like a slow, controlled tide.
"What is this...?" Maria muttered, her voice low as she looked down at her feet. The original stone beneath them was no longer visible only the shifting surface of blood.
The reaction wasn’t contained to them.
Across the city, civilians who had been hiding families sheltered inside buildings, wounded carried into corners, even those who had locked themselves away from the destruction above felt it. And.. Saw it. The sudden appearance of blood spreading across the ground triggered immediate fear. Panic stirred. Some stepped back instinctively, others froze, unable to process it.
It looked like something out of a nightmare.
Nyssa, Kharvek, Grace everyone present remained tense, uncertain. This wasn’t a known spell. It didn’t resemble anything familiar. There was no structure to it, no recognizable pattern of casting.
Even Sofia, Nancy, and Maria all held their silence, watching carefully, waiting.
Then Razeal closed his palm.
The stream stopped instantly. He didn’t move otherwise. Then suddenly he opened his lips.
"Blood field," he said quietly.
Just as he said that.. and the effect was immediate.
The crimson layer covering the ground began to glow faintly, a deep, steady light spreading outward in waves. Wherever it touched wherever someone stood within it that glow climbed upward, wrapping around bodies like a second skin.
People stiffened, startled.
And then
Warmth.
Not heat. Not pressure. Just a steady, overwhelming warmth spreading through their bodies.
Cuts started to close.
Bruises faded.
Broken bones aligned and mended.
Blood loss reversed as flesh restored itself.
Across the entire city, injuries began to disappear.
Soldiers who had been barely standing moments ago straightened, their breathing stabilizing. Those collapsed on the ground pushed themselves up, confusion overtaking pain. Civilians who had been on the edge of death found strength returning, their bodies repairing themselves without effort.
Even old wounds injuries carried long before this battle began to heal by itself.
Near the wall, Kharvek’s body reacted the same way. The damage he had sustained in battle deep cuts, internal strain repaired rapidly under the crimson glow. Even the raw pain from his severed arm dulled, his condition stabilizing completely within seconds.
All around them, thousands no, hundreds of thousands of people experienced it at once.
"What is happening?!" soldiers shouted, startled as they felt their bodies changing wounds closing on their own while a faint crimson glow wrapped around them from the blood beneath their feet.
Nyssa stood still for a moment, her composure slipping just enough to show the depth of her shock. Her gaze moved quickly from the soldiers on the wall, to the ranks below, and then to Kharvek. He was staring at his own body, his expression frozen as the damage from the battle disappeared in real time. Cuts sealed, bruised flesh restored, internal strain fading and then, impossibly, his severed arm began to reform. Bone, muscle, skin everything reconstructed itself within seconds until his arm was whole again, as if it had never been lost. Even older scars things he had carried for years were gone.
That alone should not have been possible. Healing a Great Saint was fundamentally different from healing ordinary soldiers. Their bodies resisted external influence magic, medicine, even high-grade elixirs struggled to work effectively on them. And yet this... this bypassed all of it.
Around them, everyone reacted the same way. Heads turned toward Razeal almost in unison.
"What... Miracle is this..." Kharvek murmured, still looking at his restored arm, flexing his fingers as if to confirm it was real.
Nyssa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Instead, she extended her senses outward, sweeping across the city. What she felt only made things worse.
It wasn’t localized.
It wasn’t limited.
Every person within the city every soldier, every civilian was being affected the same way. No distinction. No targeting. The effect was constant, sustained. The thirty thousand soldiers below the wall had already fully recovered some of them had been moments from death, and now stood as if nothing had happened.
Nyssa’s gaze settled back on Razeal, her expression tightening into something far more serious now. No Great Saint could do this. She had never even heard of a Supreme capable of restoring an entire city either. Not like this. Not instantly. Not without strain, preparation, or visible cost.
Even the highest authorities of the Church the Pope himself would not be able to replicate something on this scale with divine magic. What she was witnessing felt closer to a holy-rank healing spell cast on a single individual... except it was being applied to an entire city at once. She could feel it within her own body too the effect wasn’t subtle. It was overwhelming. Clean. Absolute. Even the most refined A-rank healing magic wouldn’t produce this kind of result on one person, let alone hundreds of thousands at once.
Holy rank... or something above it.
Her thoughts narrowed further. There was only one person she could think of who might come close Her Highness, the Saintess Alone. A being spoken of as the child of god itself. If anyone in the known world could perform something of this level, it would be her. And even then... Nyssa wasn’t certain.
This was too much.
An entire city, covered in a continuous healing effect. The mana required alone should have been impossible. Even a Great Saint’s reserves wouldve collapse long before achieving anything close to this. To heal a single man from a half-dead state to regenerate limbs, restore organs that already demanded an enormous expenditure. And Razeal had done it to hundreds of thousands simultaneously, without pause, without visible effort.
No one spoke.
They simply stared.
Nyssa felt it more clearly now the source of it. It wasn’t mana. It wasn’t divine energy. It was something else entirely. Dense. Alive. Vast beyond measure.
Razeal standing there in front of everyone was radiating with a pure vitality as if a beacon of light..
"...What an absurd amount of vitality..." she murmured while looking at Raazeal.. almost under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Maria looked at Razeal with open disbelief now, her earlier irritation gone completely. "You... can use healing magic now?" she asked, unable to hide the shock in her voice. She remembered what had happened earlier the child, the father but this was on a completely different level.
Razeal didn’t look at her. "It’s not healing magic," he said simply. "I’m just sharing my vitality."
After all, he has an endless amount of vitality now. Sharing it with hundreds of thousands of people is nothing to him; he could probably extend it to billions and still not feel any strain.
That said, this isn’t even the primary function of the Blood Field. It’s just a minor effect, something incidental. If anything, its true purpose is far more destructive... something capable of genocide on an unimaginable scale.
The answer only made things worse.
"Vitality...?" they all repeated, almost at the same time, confusion deepening rather than clearing.
Nyssa and Grace both faltered slightly.
"Not... magic?" Grace said, quieter now, as if unsure whether she had heard him correctly.
The idea didn’t sit right. If it wasn’t magic, then it wasn’t bound by the same rules. That alone made it more dangerous than anything they had seen so far.
Kharvek remained silent. He didn’t question it. He didn’t interrupt. He simply watched Razeal, his gaze steady, thoughtful. There was something else there now interest, yes, but also a quiet acknowledgment. Whoever this man was, he was not something that could be understood quickly. Or easily.
He stepped forward after a moment and inclined his head slightly, respectful without hesitation.
"Thank you, Lord Razeal," he said, his tone firm. "For this... blessing, for the city, and for the soldiers." He remembered the way Nyssa had addressed him earlier. Now it made sense. The title wasn’t courtesy. It was recognition.
Razeal gave a small nod in return, nothing more.
Then he turned.
He walked to the edge of the wall, his attention already shifting away from the aftermath behind him and toward what still remained ahead. The golem army had not stopped. It continued advancing, steady and inevitable, closing the distance.
Healing the city was one part of it. The rest still remained.
He stood there for a moment, looking out across the distance, considering.
Then, in full view of everyone watching, he raised his arm toward the battlefield.
His voice was quiet.
"Shadow domain."
——
