God Agent: All Hail The Great Kobold

The entire northern gate had descended into complete chaos. Goblins ran left and right without any sense of direction, some desperately trying to reach the walls while others shoved their way through the crowd in an attempt to escape the arrows raining down from above. Those who stumbled were often unable to get back onto their feet before the panicked crowd rushed over them, and several goblins were trampled beneath the feet of their own comrades.

The defensive formations that Crow had painstakingly established only moments earlier had completely ceased to exist. There was no shield wall anymore, no organized retreat, and no one giving orders. There were only terrified civilians and exhausted warriors trying to survive.

Drak, Krov, and the other kobold marksmen did not hesitate to exploit the chaos. They remained on the battlement and continued sending volleys of arrows into the crowd below, their shots picking off goblins in large numbers. Every time someone attempted to rally the others, another arrow found its mark, leaving the surrounding goblins stunned and confused as the bodies of their comrades continued falling around them.

Watching her people being butchered before her eyes drove Kia into a frenzy. Her breathing became heavier as rage overwhelmed the fear that had been building inside her, and her eyes began pulsing with crimson light. These were not soldiers alone. Kia thrust both hands forward, aiming directly at the kobolds standing on the battlement, and the crimson light in her eyes suddenly shifted into a brilliant orange as she began weaving mana through her body.

"Ignis Vel!" she screamed.

Flames rolled into existence from the palms of her hands, initially little more than flickering tongues of fire before rapidly expanding into a blazing mass. Kia could feel the spell growing stronger as more mana poured into it, but her impatience got the better of her. She knew she needed to release it before the kobolds could fire another volley, and instead of allowing the spell to fully develop, she forced the unstable fireball forward. The mass of flames surged away from her hands, growing larger as it crossed the distance between the rooftops.

Ka’z had already noticed her the moment she began weaving mana. His Divine Perception allowed him to sense the movement of mana before the spell had even been completed, and the moment he recognized the direction of the attack, he immediately moved.

He ran forward as the earth beneath him began to rise, a mass of soil and stone surging upward beneath his feet. Each step carried him higher into the air as the ground itself seemed to propel him upward, allowing him to climb above the battlefield before he pushed off and launched himself forward. His body spun through the air, his crimson scales catching the light of the flames as he swung his battle axe with both hands.

The axe struck the fireball head on.

With a violent burst of heat and mana, the blade tore through the center of the spell and split the massive ball of fire cleanly in two. The two halves of the attack separated around Ka’z before continuing past him, one passing to either side as the flames illuminated his body. The kobold did not even slow down. He continued spinning through the air before beginning his descent toward the battlefield below.

Bzzzz!

Molu’s jaw slackened as the sword in his hand slipped from his fingers and landed uselessly on the ground. He could barely comprehend what he had just witnessed. That was the kind of thing Grash had done. The former Ashmork chief had performed feats that seemed impossible to ordinary goblins, and every time he did, the people had cheered his name as though he were a God walking among them. Yet now a creature so young was casually replicating those feats.

Molu stared at Ka’z as though he were looking at something that should not exist.

"How are we supposed to beat that?" he muttered, his voice carrying genuine despair.

The goblins behind him heard those words, and whatever courage they had managed to preserve finally collapsed. Several began dropping their weapons as their hands trembled uncontrollably. Others simply turned around and ran, abandoning the battlefield without even waiting for an order. The sight of their chief standing motionless while the enemy effortlessly destroyed their defenses had made the truth impossible to ignore. There was nothing left for them to fight for on this battlefield.

Kia remained frozen on the rooftop, disbelief written across her face as she watched Ka’z’s body fall from the air. Her spell had been powerful enough to kill an ordinary warrior, yet he had simply cut it apart. She barely even noticed that the kobold marksmen on the battlement had shifted their attention toward her.

The moment she had cast her spell, Krov and several of the other archers had immediately recognized her as a spellcaster and turned their bows in her direction. They had no reason to allow another enemy mage to continue attacking their comrades, and with Kia standing exposed on the rooftop alongside the three shaman trainees, they had found their next targets.

Swoosh!

Kia barely had time to realize what was happening before an arrow slammed into her chest. The impact forced her backward, her body staggering as pain exploded through her torso. Another arrow struck one of the shaman trainees behind her, forcing him to stumble backward, while a third arrow tore into Kia’s throat. Her hands instinctively rose toward the wound, but before she could even react, another arrow flew past her and scraped across the side of her head. Her head jerked backward from the impact as blood immediately began running down her face.

For a moment, everything around her seemed to disappear.

The screams of the battlefield faded into the distance, replaced by the faint sound of a child’s laughter. Her vision blurred, and somewhere within the haze of pain and confusion, she found herself standing in a much simpler time.

She was only two years old then, standing beside Varg with both of their hands stretched forward. The old shaman stood patiently beside her as flames spiraled into existence before their palms, slowly gathering into a growing sphere of fire. Kia remembered how badly her hands had been shaking that day. She had been terrified of the flames, afraid that she would lose control and hurt herself or Varg. Her eyes had remained fixed on the fire as it grew, and every instinct inside her had screamed at her to release it.

"Ignis Vel," they both said together.

The flames continued spiraling in front of their palms, steadily increasing in size. Kia’s hands shook even more as she watched them, but Varg’s voice soon reached her through the fear.

"Stay calm dear, it’s your magic, it won’t hurt you. Don’t release it yet, just let it keep taking your mana until it starts to feel a little heavy, okay?" Varg said patiently.

"Okay!" she replied with a small smile.

Just hearing his voice had been enough to drive away the fear in her heart. She had trusted him completely. If Varg told her she could control the spell, then she believed him.

Back in the real world, Kia’s vision blurred as tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Her legs weakened beneath her, and she desperately tried to speak, but nothing came out. She could barely make out the blurred face of the person beneath a hood standing before her, and even through her fading vision, she could tell that the person was crying. Her lips moved slightly, but her body refused to obey her.

’Varg... Don’t be mad at me. I released it too soon.’ she gasped inwardly.

"Madam Kia!" one of the shaman trainees cried out loudly, but the warning came too late.

Bam! Bam!

The two other shamans standing beside her suddenly collapsed onto the rooftop with heavy thuds. The sound momentarily pulled Kia’s fading attention away from the hooded figure in front of her, and she looked down in horror. Their bodies were riddled with arrows, blood spreading rapidly across their robes as they lay motionless on the wooden rooftop. Kia slowly raised her gaze toward the source of the attack, her eyes widening as she saw the kobold archers standing atop the battlement.

An arrow flew and it struck her directly between the eyes. Her body went limp before it fell backward onto the rooftop.

Molu witnessed everything from the ground below. He stood completely motionless, staring at the rooftop with an empty expression as Kia’s body disappeared from his sight. His fingers twitched at his sides, but his mind seemed incapable of processing what had just happened. Kia had been Varg’s successor, the young shaman he had entrusted with the future of the Ashmork Clan. She had been one of the last people carrying his teachings forward.

Now she was dead.

Molu’s knees suddenly lost their strength, and he collapsed onto the ground without even seeming to notice. He simply stared ahead with a blank expression as the sounds of battle continued around him. At this point, there was no longer any doubt. The northern gate had collapsed, their warriors were fleeing, their archers had been slaughtered, their chief shaman was dead, and the southern walls were burning. The Ashmork Clan had fallen.

Meanwhile, the moment Ka’z struck the ground, the earth beneath his feet surged upward again. The force propelled him toward the battlement like a spring, sending his body shooting through the air with his battle axe raised over his head. Drak’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and confusion as he stared at Ka’z’s shadow loom over him.

Drak instinctively shut his eyes, and a few seconds passed, yet nothing happened. Confused, Drak slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the battlefield below.

Ka’z was standing there.

His battle axe had cleaved straight through Crow’s shoulder, the blade cutting down through his body all the way toward his chest. Blood poured from the wound as Crow stared at Ka’z with a wounded expression, his mouth opening as blood began spilling from it.

"Did you think you could escape my divine perception?" Ka’z snarled.

He yanked the axe free from Crow’s body, sending another burst of blood onto the ground, before immediately driving his foot into Crow’s stomach. The force of the kick sent the wounded goblin flying backward, his body crashing over the battlement and disappearing from sight.

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