novelraw Chapter 182 – Playing Smart
Chapter 182 – Playing Smart
Vivienne crossed her arms, tail flicking idly behind her as she gazed out over the battlefield. The air was thick with tension, charged with the weight of an impending clash between forces that had no business standing on the same field. She let out a breath, watching as the distant horizon shimmered with unnatural light—the dawn titan’s presence warping the very air around it.
“Vailora is running a bit late,” she muttered, her tone dry.
“Well, she has a bell or two before she’s actually needed,” Rava replied, arms resting atop her head as she leaned back against a weather-worn post. “She’s known for being lazy.”
Vivienne shot her a look. “Not exactly reassuring, sweetheart.”
Rava smirked but didn’t argue. A moment of silence stretched between them before Vivienne spoke again, her voice quieter this time.
“…Will she win?”
Rava glanced at her, then back toward the distant battlefield. “The giants are each very powerful, but they are not equal,” she said. “We’re fortunate to have Vailora on our side. If they had Epitheon, the bard titan, we’d be in trouble.”
Vivienne frowned. “You think he’s stronger?”
Rava exhaled sharply through her nose, something almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Stronger? Not in brute strength, no. But his influence runs deeper. Vailora commands destruction, sure. But Epitheon…” Her expression darkened slightly. “Epitheon changes things. He doesn’t just crush armies—he makes them dance to his tune.”
“I see,” Vivienne said simply, her voice unreadable.
They didn’t speak much after that, letting the quiet settle between them. The sounds of soldiers moving into position, the clanking of armor, and the murmurs of anxious men and women filled the air as they stood atop the walls, watching the battlefield below.
An hour and a half passed in tense anticipation. The air grew heavy, the dark clouds above thickening into an ominous mass. The scent of rain and charged aether coiled in Vivienne’s senses, prickling against her skin like the storm itself was breathing down her neck.
Then, without warning, the heavens split apart. A blinding torrent of lightning struck the battlefield, jagged bolts lashing down in a chaotic frenzy. The impact was deafening, a sharp crack followed by a deep, rolling boom that rattled the stones beneath their feet.
Vivienne’s breath caught as the light faded, leaving behind a towering figure in its wake.
Vailora.
She stood at the center of the battlefield, her presence alone commanding silence. A storm made flesh, her dark, wind-whipped hair crackled with electricity, stray sparks dancing across the air around her. Her skin gleamed with the faint glow of condensed aether, storm-forged and unyielding. In her right hand, she gripped a great warhammer, the head so absurdly massive that it looked as though it had been plucked straight from some over-the-top fantasy game.
Vivienne couldn’t help but scoff under her breath. What is she compensating for?
Still, even she couldn’t deny the sheer presence Vailora exuded. There was something primal about her—a force of nature wrapped in a humanoid shape, an inevitability rather than a warrior.
Rava let out a low whistle. “She knows how to make an entrance.”
Vivienne crossed her arms, watching as the titaness took a slow step forward, her hammer resting casually against her shoulder. The ground beneath her crackled, tiny arcs of lightning skittering along the earth.
“Lazy or not,” Vivienne murmured, “she certainly looks the part.”
“Indeed.”
Vailora lifted her hammer and pointed it toward Nythara, then gestured northward with an almost lazy flick of her fingers. The Dawn Titan regarded her for a brief moment before nodding, then turned and began moving, her massive form vanishing into the gloom of the battlefield like a god answering a summons.
Yet, despite their titan’s departure, the forces of Aegis remained where they stood, unmoving.
Vivienne’s lips curled into a smirk.
“They clearly weren’t expecting that,” she chuckled, watching as confusion rippled through the enemy ranks. Soldiers shifted uneasily, glancing between each other and their officers, waiting for orders that did not come.
“I doubt they were,” Rava said, arms crossed as she studied the battlefield with a narrowed gaze.
They continued to wait, but no commands came from the Sovereignty’s side. The army held their ground, reluctant or uncertain, as if they feared stepping onto the field now that their titan had gone. Still, the sounds of battle echoed across the distant hills. Deep, resonant cracks of thunder split the sky, rolling across the land like the fury of a storm. The ground trembled intermittently, subtle at first, then stronger with each passing clash.
The titans were fighting.
Vivienne could only guess at what was happening beyond their sight, but she hoped Vailora would emerge victorious. If she didn’t, things would get much more difficult.
The sun dipped lower, bleeding its last light across the horizon, and still, the enemy did not advance. The distant battle raged on, the sky flashing with erratic bursts of lightning, but here, on the walls, all remained eerily still.
Vivienne exhaled, drumming her claws against the stone before finally pushing herself to her feet.
“I think I’m going to go off and cause a little havoc,” she mused, rolling her shoulders as if shedding the weight of waiting.
Rava yawned, stretching her arms over her head before cracking her neck with a lazy tilt. “Are you sure? Should I come with you?”
Vivienne shook her head, placing a hand on her hip. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I think it’d be best if I went alone. You’re strong—don’t get me wrong—but I can be stealthy.” She let her tail curl slightly behind her, its bladed tip glinting in the dim light. “I intend to keep to the shadows.”
Rava studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright. Try not to get yourself caught.”
Vivienne grinned, her black eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, sweetheart." She turned on her heel, stepping backward into the deepening shadows, letting them curl around her like an old lover’s embrace. The night clung to her, welcoming her into its folds, but she lingered a moment longer. "They wish they could catch me."
Then, with a sudden, playful saunter, she waltzed back toward Rava, closing the distance between them in fluid, unhurried strides. She slid her arms around Rava’s waist, pulling herself flush against the lekine’s solid frame. Warmth radiated from her, steady and grounding, in contrast to the cool night air that pressed in around them.
Vivienne tilted her head up, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Kiss for good luck?"
Rava’s ears flicked slightly, her expression unmoving as she gazed down at Vivienne. "Why would a kiss be good luck?" Her tone was dry, but there was no true bite to it.
Vivienne’s grin widened. "Do you not have your own luck rituals?" she asked, tracing lazy circles along Rava’s lower back with her claws.
Rava scoffed. "Some do. Serkoth do not. We prepare." Her voice was steady, unwavering, like the steel of a blade long worn by battle. "Good preparation is better than leaving it to chance."
Vivienne’s fingers lingered on Rava’s waist, her touch light but intentional. The softness of Rava’s skin beneath her fingertips sent a shiver of satisfaction through her. She smiled, the expression playful but with a deeper warmth simmering beneath. “Mm, maybe,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “But I like my way better.”
Rava’s eyes rolled, but the faint twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement. She leaned in, not saying anything more, but instead planting a quick, soft kiss on Vivienne’s lips—barely a second, but enough to leave an impression.
“Better?” Rava asked, her voice thick with an affectionate sarcasm that made Vivienne's chest tighten.
Vivienne let her fingers trail down Rava's side for a brief moment before she licked her lips, savoring the taste. The corner of her mouth curved into a full, satisfied grin. “Much better,” she purred. She stepped back, her gaze never leaving Rava’s face, the teasing edge still there, but a hint of something softer flickering in her eyes. “See you later. I love you.”
The words hung in the air, and for a heartbeat, Rava’s whole demeanor froze, a fleeting moment of uncertainty that flickered across her face like the smallest crack in her stoic armor. Vivienne saw it. It was rare, but it was there.
Rava’s eyes softened, and she blinked as if adjusting to the words. The words seemed heavy, weighty, but then, as if reassuring herself, Rava replied with a quiet, “Love you too.” The hesitancy was palpable, but it was real. It was raw.
Vivienne's heart skipped a beat, but she gave a knowing nod, her smile only growing deeper. “I’ll hold you to that,” she teased, the words playful, but also genuine. She could feel that this was something important between them—something worth holding onto.
With one last lingering glance at Rava, Vivienne turned and, without another word, leapt off the wall, her body shifting in midair. Her bones rearranged, her form elongated and morphed effortlessly into her eclipse lynx shape. The transition was smooth, her senses sharpened instantly as her new form took over. She landed gracefully, her paws making barely a sound as they connected with the ground, muscles rippling under the soft black and gold fur.
The night air was cool against her sleek body, the ground beneath her paws soft and yielding as she crouched low, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath her. The lynx’s instincts surged forward, and Vivienne was already in motion before the shift had fully settled. She moved like a shadow, fluid and quick, each step calculated, each leap perfect. The world around her melted away as she became one with the night, swift, silent, and free.
And though she was hidden in the darkness, the memory of that kiss, that brief exchange of words, lingered with her, burning brighter than the stars above.
Vivienne moved through the frozen fields with the grace of a shadow, her form a streak of gold against the stark white of the snow. She barely made a mark on the surface as she bounded forward, each leap bringing her closer to the forest's embrace. The cold air bit at her fur, but she welcomed it, her muscles coiled and ready for the work ahead. This was her domain now, the dark, frozen expanse where fear could be sown like seeds in the wind. Her goal was simple—to teach terror, to remind these invaders of their fragility, of what awaited those who wandered too far from the warmth of their campfires.
As she approached the treeline, her keen eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of movement or light. The forest loomed dark and thick before her, but she could already feel the pull of the camps—something unmistakable, a human presence, the faint buzz of activity. She shifted slightly, feeling the weight of the snow beneath her paws and the tautness of her muscles as she padded closer to the edge of the woods.
The first camp she found wasn’t far, nestled just beyond the snow’s edge where the trees thinned and gave way to a large, sprawling open area. The light from torches flickered and danced against the cold, and the shadows cast long and wavering, as though alive with the movement of countless bodies. Vivienne squinted into the night, trying to take in the layout of the camp, her mind working rapidly to assess the situation.
She moved closer, silent as a whisper in the wind. Her form was hidden by the shadows of the trees, but her eyes scanned the camp, noting the patterns of movement, the way the guards shifted along their posts.
The camp was large, larger than she’d expected. There were sections within it—hundreds of soldiers, perhaps even more, divided into groups and spread out across what seemed like dozens of tents. Her gaze flickered over the mass of people, counting them in the low light. She noted the tents, the cooking fires, the way they had set up their barricades. The soldiers appeared to be well-organized, though complacent in their duties.
Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat. These were men who had not yet seen the true reach of terror, and she was all too willing to show them.
She continued to circle the camp, staying far enough out of sight that none of them would notice her, but close enough to take in every detail. She counted the individuals she could see, and guessed the total to be in the hundreds per section, with four or five distinct segments making up the whole of the camp. Each section was positioned roughly fifty hundred meters from the next, forming a lattice-like formation, a pattern that made it easy to move between them, but also left each camp vulnerable to attack from multiple angles.
Vivienne’s mind raced with possibilities. The layout would give her plenty of options to strike. She would need to be quick, precise, and utterly invisible. The thought made her lips curl into a grin, her eyes glowing with the thrill of the hunt. The fear of these mortals would be hers to control; they would have no idea what was coming.
She moved along the forest’s edge, her senses heightened, listening for any sound that might betray the slightest shift in the air. The night was still and cold, but the tension in her body told her that something was about to break. She could already see it in the flickering light of the torches—the confusion that would settle upon these fools when they realized the danger they’d invited into their midst.
Vivienne crouched in the snow, her sharp eyes scanning the sprawling encampment ahead. She couldn’t go in guns blazing, of course—though, with a laugh, she realized there weren’t any guns in this world to even think about. She needed a plan, something careful, deliberate. The usual reckless charge would get her nowhere here. If she went in like a storm, she'd draw too much attention, too much risk. No, she had to be smart. Aether reserves were her first concern. She couldn’t rely on brute force; she had to be quick, calculating, precise.
One thing she was certain of: she wasn’t here for a drawn-out battle. There would be no savoring of the kill. It would have to be swift, and once it was done, she needed to be out before anyone even realized she'd struck.
Her tail flicked restlessly, her thoughts gathering as she surveyed the layout of the enemy. She would need more than just her wits. The wards. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she thought about them. Depending on the strength, she could just brute force her way in. That would be loud and a big problem. If they had set up wards around the camp, she would need to change her approach entirely. If not, well... that would be a bit easier, wouldn’t it? A chance for a cleaner strike.
But she had to prepare for the worst. If they had wards, she would need to find a way to lure them out. To draw attention elsewhere so she could slip through unnoticed. Maybe she could force their hand, get loud first, make them think she was somewhere she wasn’t, then strike while they were distracted. It was a gamble, but it might be her best shot.
An idea sparked in Vivienne's mind as she watched the flickering lights from the camp in the distance. Her lips curled into a knowing smile.
Perhaps it was time to test out the shadow songbeasts.
With a slow exhale, she slinked back into the cover of the forest, the trees offering a cloak of darkness that made her almost invisible. She let her form shift, the ethereal, fluid motion of her transformation melding her once more into a humanoid shape. Her sharp eyes scanned the area around her, assessing the distance she needed to be from the camp to ensure she wouldn’t be detected. She didn’t need to go too far. Just enough that her song—the soft, haunting melody that had power to stir the shadows—would barely be audible over the whispers of the wind and the subtle hum of the world itself.
She knelt down for a moment, her fingers brushing against the frozen ground as her mind reached out, her senses expanding to connect with the shadows around her. The songbeasts were always nearby, resting in the periphery of her mind, awaiting her command. This was their moment to prove their worth. She would send them out, like sentinels, to test the borders of the enemy’s defenses.
Her song was subtle, a soft vibration in the air. She hummed just loud enough for the shadows to respond—low, melodic tones that were barely more than whispers to those untrained to hear. They would test for wards, slipping through the spaces between the trees and creeping around the edges of the enemy encampment. It was a delicate operation, the beasts weaving in and out of the darkened spaces, their forms barely visible, as they searched for the invisible barriers that might hinder her.
If there are wards, Vivienne thought, they’ll find them. If not, we move in.
She could feel them, the shadow songbeasts, their hunger and their restless energy vibrating through the dark. They were so much a part of her now, extensions of her will, her power, her own innate desire for chaos. She let them explore, each of them slipping between the trees with an eerie grace, reaching out into the shadows at the edges of the camp, seeking out any hidden barrier or magical force that might protect the soldiers from aetherbeasts like herself.
The silence stretched on, and Vivienne held her breath, her focus fixed on the shifting, flickering forms of the songbeasts. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, but at last, she felt the faintest brush of one of the beasts’ consciousness.
There’s nothing... no wards, no barriers. Just shadows and men.
Vivienne’s lips curled into a satisfied grin. The path ahead was clear, for now.
But there was still the question of what came next. She had to keep her wits about her, keep moving with precision. The camp was still large, and despite the lack of wards, the soldiers were numerous.
She hummed once more, a little louder this time, signaling to the beasts to pull back. The shadows reluctantly shifted back toward her, like children called home, though their hunger remained.
Afterwards? she thought, eyeing the camp once more. I’ll just have to see.
With a final glance back at the camp, Vivienne began to move once more, her body blending into the darkness. Whatever her next step would be, she would take it swiftly, with the shadows at her back and the taste of victory in her mind.
Lucus trudged through the snow beside his closest brother-in-arms, Rikard, their boots crunching softly against the frozen ground. The cold bit through his armor, and exhaustion weighed heavy in his limbs, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. They had been put on night watch after sleeping in an hour late, and now, instead of resting in their tents like the lucky bastards who had woken on time, they were stuck pacing the perimeter, watching the distant treeline for threats that had yet to materialize.
Lucus stifled a yawn, rolling his shoulders to keep himself alert. He had expected to already be in the thick of battle by now, hacking through the enemy and earning his glory. Instead, they were stuck in a tense standoff. Not that he was ungrateful for the lack of bloodshed—it gave them a moment to breathe—but the waiting gnawed at him.
And then there was the other
titan.No one had been prepared for that.
When the second colossus had appeared in a flash of lightning and wordlessly marched off with the Dawn Titan, the entire camp had been left in stunned silence. The generals had scrambled to make sense of it, and the soldiers had whispered their theories in hushed voices. Even now, hours later, the battle between the giants still echoed across the land, distant thunder and tremors rolling through the earth beneath their feet. Lucus could only imagine the devastation they were unleashing upon each other, but a part of him wished he could see it firsthand.
He glanced at Rikard and sighed. "Do you think we’ll actually see some action tomorrow? I wanna put those mutts in their place."
Rikard didn’t break stride, but his fist shot out, landing a solid punch against Lucus’ arm. “Don’t call them that,” he said, voice firm. “They’re good people when they know where they belong. They just need training.”
Lucus snorted, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, sure. You’re just saying that because you’re sweet on that lekine baker. Is your wife not enough?”
Rikard stiffened, his head snapping toward Lucus with a glare. “Of course she is,” he said, his tone defensive. “My wife is the most radiant flower in the world.”
Lucus smirked, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Rikard scoffed. “Oh, shut up. Just because your wife is—” He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his head snapping up, ears straining. His brow furrowed.
“Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lucus blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Rikard’s demeanor. “Hear what?” he muttered, instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.
Rikard turned his head slightly, as if trying to catch a faint sound carried by the wind. His expression darkened.
“Singing,” he said.
Lucus frowned, his grip tightening on his weapon. He listened harder, but at first, he heard nothing beyond the usual sounds of the night—the crackling of distant campfires, the murmured conversations of soldiers, the rustling of the wind through the trees.
Then, just on the edge of hearing, he caught it. A voice, soft and lilting, weaving through the cold night air like a thread of silk. It wasn’t the boisterous drinking songs of the men, nor the rhythmic chants of the priests. This was something else.
Something unnatural.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
“It’s… distant,” he said, glancing at Rikard. “Could be from one of the other camps?”
Rikard shook his head. “No. It’s too… strange. Listen to it.”
Lucus strained his ears, and the more he focused, the more the melody unsettled him. It didn’t have a clear beginning or end, just a haunting, ethereal hum that seemed to rise and fall with no pattern, slipping through the dark like a whisper only half meant to be heard.
Their boots crunched softly against the frostbitten earth as they made their way toward the treeline, the flickering light of their torch casting long, jagged shadows across the snow. The singing continued, a ghostly hum that slipped between the trees, its source just out of reach, just beyond the veil of darkness.
Lucus could feel his heartbeat in his throat. It wasn’t just the song itself—it was the way it seemed to coil around them, distant yet intimate, like a whisper against the nape of his neck.
“Still don’t like this,” he muttered.
“Shut up,” Rikard hissed. “Keep moving.”
They stepped past the first line of trees, the glow of the torch swallowing the nearest trunks in a soft, wavering light. The further they went, the more the world behind them seemed to fade—no more campfires, no more murmured conversations, just the hush of the woods and that relentless melody, seeping through the cold like breath on glass.
Lucus swallowed, forcing himself to focus. “I think it’s—”
The song stopped.
Silence slammed down around them like a weight.
Rikard gripped his sword tighter. “That’s not good.”
Lucus turned his head, scanning the darkness. His breath misted in the frigid air. “Hello?” he called, voice barely above a whisper.
No answer.
Then something shifted—just a ripple of movement at the edge of the torch’s reach. A figure, standing in the shadows of a tree, blending into the darkness like it belonged there.
Lucus inhaled sharply, jerking back a step as the torchlight caught its face.
It was wrong.
That was his first thought.
Too many eyes. Skin that seemed to drink in the fire’s glow instead of reflecting it. And that smile—wide, playful, knowing.
A low, velvety voice purred from the shadows.
“Oh, darling. You really shouldn’t have come looking.”