Maybe talk of destruction as if it some grand term that can be thrown needlessly until the word itself loses relevance. It has become such a common turn of phrase that I now avoid using the word for it is utterly worthless in meaning. What does it mean to "destroy" an enemy force? Whereas many would point to some grand conflagration of violence as the moment of "destruction", the word loses meaning at that point. In the same fashion that houses do not simply spontaneously combust, great problems do not get spontaneously destroyed.

We point to the kindling, we point to the drought, we point fallen candle, we point to spilled oil and we point to the general malaise of cleanliness when we search for causes of the fire. Likewise, in the case of an army, we point to the morale and food security of the men. We point to weakened flanks and we point to the lack of reinforcements. We point to the untested and untrusted commander. We point to our own overwhelming force.

We avoid destruction by sidestepping dismantlement. Our flanks may not be attacked if they face uncrossable terrain. We will not be cut off from food if the supply lines are kept open. Our commanders are tested and trusted because our commanders have guards. By the time of the great conflagration of destruction, one must make sure to dismantle as many of these factors from the enemy and to fortify as many as possible from oneself.

The first step on the road to destruction is dismantlement. Whether we refer to armies or homes or entire nations, it matters not. Likewise, one should not be intimidated by the scale of a problem. A house with a single point of failure shatters all the same as a house with the strongest walls. The simple matter of fact is how much energy one wishes to pour into their goal. One may look up, wishing to destroy a mountain so that his home may have view of the dawn and one may deem it impossible. Another will look at the same mountain with the same goal and grab a pickaxe.

Which of the two has a chance at achieving their goal? Which of the two leaves less work for their descendants? Which of the two can at least say they tried?

The future, no one can promise. The chance for a future is the best that can be offered and, to speak frankly, to offer even a chance already surpasses what most give.

- Excerpt from "Philosophy of War", written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

Fer sniffed the air as she danced around the back of the retreating vanguard of the Second Expedition. Ahead of her, tank and truck and boot all slowly gave ground as they pulled away from what became colloquially known as The Rift. They were coming across another supply base, another location that would need to be held for a few hours before it too was inevitably low. Vehicles were pulling off to the sides of the grand Epa-Arika Highway tunnel, large enough to fit an entire castle within and the hill it sat on. Already, Fer picked out Clerics running around and setting up zones for where the wounded should be put as they worked. A set of officers were helping them organize as the men untouched by the heat dove to the ground and behind the emplacements that had been set up at the supply base. The tents had already been taken down and crates of ammunition along with the largest emplacements were being loaded onto trucks. Mages and sorcerers hovered in the air as they assisted where they could. Some with lifting, others with carving trenches into the stone or pulling up spikes to stop cavalry charges. None of them went too high though.

Fer sniffed the air again and looked to her left. That's where it would hit. The smell of hot air and sulphur and that terrible sound of blazing air was coming close now. There were men there. In grey uniforms with flags on their arms, right at the end of the convoy that were sprinting with probably nothing but adrenaline powering them at this point. Sweat poured from their faces and breaths were desperate and deep. With rifles in their hands and with packs bouncing on their packs, they still ran.

Fer could not leave them.

The Goddess of Beasthood jumped to her left and held out her arms. A moment later, she felt a blast of fire try to devour her back as she kept her eyes open. Oranges wisps of flame enveloped her arms, her stomach and her thighs for a moment. She smelled her own hair burning. She felt her own skin crack and char and she grit her teeth as her body rebuilt itself. Muscle rewound itself and blackened char flaked off as fresh skin came in to replace it.

Fer sniffed the air and the ears on top of her head twisted. Chaos from the front. Engines roaring and men shouting and gunfire and cannon and explosion and men pleading for release from their burns as officers directed with orders and Clerics gave updates to themselves. Shouts for drinking water and for more of the MisseM pills and for more rounds or for space on the trucks were the tiny set of drums amongst the organized cacophony.

And from behind, she heard flood that was coming to consume them. The ever-present of anthem of Tartarus hummed like a wasp-nest full of drums. Every now and then, it screeched with the searing scream of a bolt of flame although none were coming now. But those were the mere cheers of the audience to the true orchestra that was on stage. That low, ever-present rumbling of a flood of stone. Fer flinched as another piece of warmth touched her. Not from the back but from above, ash had landed on her nose. Mages shifted their attention forwards and winds began to howl as they held air in place to make a barrier stronger and more impenetrable than steel.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Almost immediately, the hot layer of ash that for a moment looked like pristine snow before it became a disgusting shade of grey became to build up. Grey and then the black of ruined rubble left behind after a fire. Fer dashed forwards and spun one leg to catch sight of the grey wall approaching them. A flood that had no beginning and definitely had no end, yet clearly was there. A barrier so hot that it would devour even Fer if she ventured deep into it. It slowly rolled forwards in great plumes.

It was like being back in the Great War.

Ashen skies.

End times.

"BROTHERS IN ARMS HOLD!" Fer roared. "HEADS UP! FOR ALL HUMANITY WE STAND!" That may have been presumptuous but Fer did not care in the slightest. "HOLD!" She heard the men of the Second Expedition return with a cheer as they settled into the trenches for protection against the blasts of fire. The mage's barrier of hardened air left a small gap at the bottom. Small only in relativity to the size of the underground Highway itself, it was twice Fer's height and it would even the men that stood on trucks to open fire into that grey fog.

She had a moment now. The frontline could be tended to later when the fighting began. Fer turned around and raced back into the camp. She hopped over soldiers and onto tanks as her nose picked out the familiar smells of the commanders. In reality, all the men smelled of the same mixture of sweat and cigarettes and gunpowder, metal and stone and sulphur and ash, but a few had the faint of familiarity. That and the cold mint that was resolute determination.

Captain Thomas Morrow was stood near the lines of men, talking to Captains Andy who had been promoted to take James' place and Jaroslaw. All three Fer would give personnel commendations to. She did not care what Kassandora thought, those three had managed to keep this shambles of a retreat in as much order as it could be held. They were huddled around near men who had been hit by blasts of Tartarian flame and then thrown forwards by Fer in a last ditch effort to save them. Death smelled thick around here. There was nothing supernatural about, it was just the stinging copper of blood and the char of burned flesh.

Clerics in grey uniforms and with armbands of blue were tending to the men, most critical first. A few received full heals but the ones that were on the brink of leaving this world were only stabilized before being carried into a truck for Clerics further in reserves to use their energies on. A few had played, others pistols, none of them bothered with rifles at this point. If there was one thing this rabble had too much of already, it was men with guns.

Fer's ears finally managed to pick out Captain Thomas' conversation over the sound of retreat around them. "Very simply, there is no way to hold."

Captain Andy raised a point. A gruff man, someone who looked like that should be called Andrew rather than Andy. He had a burn on his cheek he had refused healing for when there were men in need. "This is Epa-Arika fifteen." He said, pointing to the ground. "Next is EA-fourteen." The captains continued talking even as Fer approached them. They did not even bother with the salutes, good, there was no time to waste.

"And?" Captain Jaroslaw barked back.

"Between EAs thirteen and fourteen lays the North Arika East-West." Andy replied.

For a good half minute, no one said a word. Not even Fer. They all knew what that meant. The Vanguard force of the Second Expedition had given notice and every army was retreating north of the East-West Highway. But whereas here, they were getting frantically pushed back, the other armies were faring considerably better. If this route fell. Fer said what needed to be said. "The rest of the Second Expedition will be cut off."

Nothing more needed to be said. At the very minimum, they were looking at over a million in losses. If worst came to worst, then it would spill to multiple millions. If they let the force behind them enter the East-West, they may as start ringing the death bells for Empire. "What are the chances of holding at fourteen?" Fer knew the answer, she just couldn't let the sweet smell of fear and the bitterness of disappointment already wafting from these men settle in. They had to get moving and get thinking.

"None." Captain Thomas said. "We're a roadblock. A day would be phenomenal."

"Answers Thomas." Fer said. "We need answers and solutions and not estimations."

Another good half-minute of silence. Thomas had shut down entirely. The disappointment was thick from him. Andy and Jaroslaw looked at each other. The former man was starting to bathe in it. The latter though… Definitely a promotion. He was beginning to smell with the same sourness of crazy that Kassie sometimes carried. "Well." Captain Jaroslaw said as he rubbed his bald head. "I can say there's one method." He obviously did not want to say it.

Fer gave the little push he needed. "Be direct Captain."

"We would require your blessing." Jaroslaw sounded as if he was regurgitating each word. "But's it the only way we see to slow them down. To stop them even."

"What?" Fer barked harshly this time. Maybe too harshly, Jaroslaw actually flinched back from the Goddess that towered over him.

"We bring the ceiling down at the next depot. We send cars off now, they start planting explosives with sorcerer assistance. We give them four hours. That should be enough time to set everything up. We retreat, pull everyone back. Blow it. I don't know of the effects though. Whether the whole thing will come down or what it will be like up above for them." Fer blinked at the words, unable to close her own mouth. The taste of ash in the air awoke her.

It was a plan. Certainly. It was a plan worthy of Kassie. If she had suggested it, then everyone would clap and say it was the only way. But it was a human suggesting it.

But did that make a difference?

The Goddess of Beasthood rubbed her nose and looked down at her fingers. Grey with ash. She turned to the grey fog behind them. A fog of burning snow that blew upwards and forwards and to the sides. The red glow of flames like tiny suns trying to burst through clouds were met with gunfire. Sometimes they fell, sometimes a snake of flame would dash out to devour a man.

Fer made the call. "Under my authority, collapse the Highway."

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