Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel

At that moment, the sky above the Highlands erupted into chaos. The Vandorian aerial force, an elite group of men and women, swooped down on their flying core beasts with menacing grace. These beasts, with wings wide and eyes fierce, cut through the sky with terrifying swiftness. The riders, clad in the colors of the Vandorian army, launched their assault from above, dropping explosive objects that detonated with earth-shaking force upon impact. Fire and smoke billowed into the air, marking each explosion's deadly kiss to the ground. It was a scene of devastating destruction, a dance of death from the skies.

But the Highlanders were not deterred. With a roar of defiance, those who tamed core beasts of their own leaped into the air, their mounts kicking off the ground with powerful thrusts. The sky became an arena of clashing wills and spiraling creatures. Highland warriors, faces set with grim determination, met their foes with a ferocity born of desperation and courage.

The two sides clashed in a spectacle of swirling combat. Blows were exchanged with the force of thunderclaps, and the air crackled with the unleashed fury of Spirit and Aura energy. Bright blasts of light exploded where these powers collided, illuminating the battlefield with flashes of eerie beauty.

Despite the Highlanders' brave efforts, it soon became clear they were outmatched. The Vandorian riders, with the blessing of the bear mother and incredible aerial combat, maneuvered with a skill that was both elegant and deadly. Their core beasts, seemingly more agile and fierce, tore through the ranks of Highlander defenders, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

As the battle raged, the sky was filled with the sounds of clashing energies, the cries of the fallen, and the relentless beat of wings. The Highlanders fought valiantly, but with every passing moment, the shadow of defeat grew darker. The Vandorian aerial force, like a storm of steel and fire, seemed unstoppable in its ferocious onslaught.

As the battle raged on, a few Vandorian soldiers targeted Chiron's position, swooping down with overconfidence. They were of low cultivation, hardly a match for Chiron. 

With swift and brutal strokes of his broadsword, Chiron cut them down, his blade slicing through them as if they were nothing. A gruesome shower of blood and innards rained down, painting the ground with the stark reality of war. The Priestess watched, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and admiration at Chiron's ruthless efficiency.

Despite the small victories, Chiron sensed the tide was turning against them. Barbara, though injured from an earlier blast, stood firm, her resolve unwavering even as she grasped the gravity of their situation. She knew her forces were faltering, their spirits dampened under the weight of the Vandorian soldiers' Bear Mother blessing – a formidable advantage.

Turning to Mani, who stood ready behind her, Barbara issued a command that brooked no argument: "Do it!" Without a moment's hesitation, Mani acted. He took out the Mirror Egg, a mysterious object known for its powerful capabilities against divine energy, and placed it carefully on the ground. Then, with a grim determination etched on his face, he tore open his forearm, allowing drops of his blood to fall onto the artifact. The blood seemed to seep into it, as if the Mirror Egg was drinking in the life force offered to it.

From a distance, Chiron observed this ritual with intense focus. His eyes didn't miss a single detail, understanding the significance of what was unfolding. He knew that whatever was about to happen could change the course of the battle – for better or worse.

Chiron's gaze was fixed on the unfolding scene, a mix of curiosity and anticipation in his eyes. He wanted to see how Barbara would navigate this dire situation. As Mani's blood continued to seep into the Mirror Egg, Chiron noticed that, at first, nothing seemed to happen, which was unusual compared to its known effects. But then, as more blood pooled onto the artifact, it responded.

Suddenly, a brilliant white light burst forth from the Mirror Egg, engulfing the entire battlefield in its blinding radiance. The light was intense, almost tangible, and just as quickly as it had exploded into existence, it vanished, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

But the battlefield was no longer the same. A visible change had taken place. The Highlanders' attacks, which had been struggling to find their mark, now hit with precision and force. It was as if the light had swept away some unseen barrier, tipping the scales in their favor.

Seizing the moment, Barbara let out a thunderous war cry, a powerful, rallying shout that pierced the chaos of battle. It was a sound of defiance, of renewed hope. The Highlanders, the barbarians, everyone on their side felt a surge of energy. They echoed her scream, their voices merging into a fierce chorus that reverberated across the field. With a renewed vigor, they charged forward, their spirits lifted and their determination unshakable.

The tide was turning, and in that instant, every Highlander felt it. They were no longer the underdogs – they were a force to be reckoned with.

As the battlefield surged with renewed vigor, Chiron's attention was drawn to Mani, who staggered, almost collapsing to the ground. Chiron quickly ran through different possibilities in his mind. Mani hadn't lost much blood; he shouldn't be this weak. Yet, as he watched Mani struggle to maintain his balance, a realization dawned on him.

Observing the immense effect the Mirror Egg had unleashed, Chiron understood the terrible price of its power. It seemed like it wa smore than just a scar to the soul like he had earlier thought. 

The artifact didn't just require physical blood and a bit of the soul; it demanded something far more precious – the fundamental essense of the soul. The grander the divine energy needed to counter the enemy, the more of the user's very life force it consumed.

Chiron recognized the dire situation. Mani, in his valiant effort, was unwittingly paying with his life. He was dying, slowly and silently, without even realizing the extent of his sacrifice.

"That bitch is draining my prize..." Chrion muttered.