"Commander," came a tired voice, "Orders from the capital have arrived."

I shifted my gaze from the table to the entrance of the tent. There, a man in full armor knelt before me. His entire form was encased in metal, except for his head. A mop of blond hair crowned his head, and his black eyes held a weariness that seemed to seep into his soul. His outstretched hands trembled as they held the letter.

I rose from my chair, accepting the letter from his grasp. The letter had a stamp that was undoubtedly from the general himself. As I skimmed through the missive, my eyes only narrowed. 

"Summon the captains," my voice, heavy with exhaustion, commanded. At the sound of my voice, he hastily rose and scurried out of my tent, his armor clinking with each step.

They're really going through with this, huh? Their endless greed never changes. The candlelight wavered in the breeze as I sat in the chair, reading the letter once more.

"Sir Blackwood"

A familiar voice drew my attention. It was Captain Roderick Ironclad, a brawny figure with a square jaw and rugged features. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles, and his piercing blue eyes held a steely determination. His chestplate proudly displayed a molten gold lion, symbolizing courage.

A scabbard hung from his belt, cradling a sword with an intricately carved hilt, both weapon and masterpiece. His boots, sturdy and unyielding, carried him with the authority of a battle-hardened commander. At about 180 cm tall, he stood like an unmovable mountain.

"You called for me?" He continued with his deep voice.

"Sit down." I motioned to the chair across from me, handing over the received letter.

Roderick sat down on the chair, accepting the letter with both hands. As he opened it and began to read, his face contorted in growing dismay.

As he finished the letter he slammed his hands on the table with raging anger. "That greedy bastard! He wants us all to die so that he could gain fame?"

The letter outlined orders for the second regiment, commanded by Adrian Blackwood, a unit of 200 soldiers, to launch a suicidal direct assault on Tartura's impregnable western stronghold.

I have been serving the Empire of Valoria for a long time. I quickly rose to the commander position through blood and sweat. I also happen to be the youngest to reach this position. With no noble lineage and being an orphan, I had no one to support me but myself.

So I decided to immerse myself in battles. I kept killing and killing, earning the title 'Bloody dragon', the true meaning of which still eluded me.

The higher-up nobles always hated me. Now they sent me a letter to sacrifice myself along with my soldiers. The west stronghold of Tartura was the strongest point of that country. Anyone can tell that it's a suicide to attack that place. It was surrounded by mountains making it near impossible for invaders to succeed. Not even a few thousand soldiers would be enough to cross these mountains safely.

"They want us to throw our lives away, drawing attention while they strike elsewhere. It's despicable," Roderick seethed.

"Prepare the men, we leave at dawn," I declared firmly.

"But—"

"I won't tolerate any disobedience."

"As you wish, sir..."

Roderick exited the room, leaving behind a lingering sense of resentment and determination in the face of an unjust order.

Sigh

As the candlelight flickered and shadows danced in the dimly lit room, I couldn't help but sigh deeply. 

I just wanted to live a good life. That old man always told me to live my own way. But how do I do that now?

The night passed slowly, filled with contemplation and restlessness. Tomorrow morning loomed like an ominous specter.

As the sun started to rise in the sky, I prepared myself. I put on my armors and my robes.

And a few hours later, I was leading my men to their graves. With a mere 200 soldiers I advanced towards the enemy camp with full speed. The battle started with a surprise attack as our archers took the first shot. 

Our order was to drag the battle as long as possible. But I didn't want that. For the first time I tried going against the flow and tried doing what I wanted. If my men were to die today, they should die with glory.

With the shield man at front, the cavalry charged straight at the gate. It was pretty much impossible to keep in formation in the rugged mountains. 

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I decided to focus more on speed than fire power. With the entire cavalry I charged forward. Cries resonated through the battlefield. Distorted faces of soldiers could be seen. But they weren't afraid. Seems like Roderick's speech worked.

Then, a cannonball struck directly in front of me, claiming the life of the shield-bearing comrade who had been leading the charge. We were near the gate and already about half of our soldiers were lost. As the stronghold door was blasted through by our mages, our soldiers started to rush through only to die in their trap.

Their archers stood in formation aiming at the gate as our soldiers kept getting hit one by one. 

"This won't do," I thought. Determined, I took the lead, positioning myself at the very front. Countless arrows rained down, but I unsheathed my dual swords and began to deflect them, one by one.

While I managed to avoid being struck, my horse bore the brunt of their assault, causing me to tumble to the ground. Undeterred, I rose and charged directly at their line, shattering their formation. Other soldiers followed suit, dispatching the enemy one by one.

The second regiment, also known as the 'Crazed Dragons', were the fastest and most merciless regiment under the Empire. They were mostly made up of commoners. 

As my troops scaled the castle walls, I delved deeper into the enemy camp, relentlessly hunting for their leader. In situations where our men faced imminent death, eliminating their commander became paramount. 

I cut through enemy soldiers without hesitation, the ground beneath me painted red, my white robe drenched and my sword dripping with the blood of my adversaries. The battleground echoed with anguished screams.

"It's the Bloody Dragon!!!"

"He's alone! Surround him!"

Swoosh

Suddenly, an arrow whizzed from behind, narrowly missing me but grazing my face.

The soldiers surrounding us parted like a shadowy sea, revealing a commanding figure shrouded in a pitch-black suit of armor that extended from head to toe.

His helmet, an ominous visage, concealed his face entirely, save for two narrow, vertical eye slits that gleamed with an eerie crimson hue. A dark, imposing plume of raven feathers sprouted from the helm's crest, lending an almost supernatural aura to his presence.

His pauldrons, fashioned like menacing wings, extended outwards, giving him an even broader and more imposing silhouette. Every piece of his armor, etched with intricate, malevolent patterns, seemed to absorb the surrounding light, creating an unsettling contrast against the bright and hopeful world.

In his gauntleted hand, he clutched a wicked, serrated long blade, its obsidian surface gleaming ominously. He rested it on his shoulders as he came in front of me.

He was undoubtedly the leader here. 

"The Bloody Dragon himself has presented himself before us!" Shouted that man.

Not wanting to waste any time I took my stance.With my feet planted firmly, shoulder-width apart, I angled my body slightly to the side, making myself a smaller target.

My dominant sword, firmly gripped in my lead hand, extended slightly forward, its blade angled diagonally towards my opponent. The off-hand sword, held in a reverse grip, rested closer to my body, its blade parallel to the ground.

As I readied myself for combat, my twin swords mirrored each other perfectly, a symphony of poised aggression. My gaze remained locked on my adversary, my body ready to strike with a fluid and calculated grace that blended offense and defense seamlessly.

"Let's taste what you are made of!" The armored man launched his first attack by making a big vertical swing. Time seemed to slow as I sidestepped, narrowly evading the blade's deadly path. The ground trembled beneath the sheer force of his attack, and my heart pounded with adrenaline.

Without missing a beat, I lunged forward, my eyes ablaze with a ruthless determination. The serrated edges of my twin swords gleamed with malice as I aimed to close the distance. My breath came in ragged, excited gasps as I inched closer, a predator stalking its prey.

Our duel raged on, a brutal ballet of steel and fury. His strikes were powerful but lacked precision, while my movements were a symphony of calculated strikes and evasive maneuvers. I could feel a dark exhilaration coursing through my veins, a savage ecstasy that fueled my every move.

Amidst the brutal clash, I couldn't ignore the sight of my soldiers fighting valiantly, many giving their lives for this battle. Time was running out, and I knew I needed to end this swiftly.

As I tried to dash straight at the armored man, he kicked the dust of the ground at my face blinding me momentarily. I dashed backwards out of reflex but his greatsword came for me.

Clang

Instead of piercing me, the greatsword plunged into Roderick, who had shielded me. An infuriating "Tch" escaped the armored man's lips as he withdrew his weapon, leaving Roderick sprawled on the ground.

He again went for a vertical strike but I feinted left, then struck with blinding speed from the right, catching him off guard. The sharp tip of one sword grazed his armor, leaving a deep scratch, while the other blade narrowly missed his throat.

Staggering back, the armored man's helmet concealed any visible signs of pain or fear, but desperation radiated from him. He realized he faced a relentless force unlike any other, and it fueled my madness further—a storm of merciless violence.

With my flurry of attacks, the armored man's movements grew sluggish, his strength waning. I pressed my advantage, launching another relentless barrage of strikes that wore down his defenses. Finally, with a fierce and calculated move, I disarmed him, sending his greatsword clattering to the ground.

With the tip of my sword, I traced a line across the kneeling man's shoulders, and then, in one swift motion, I beheaded him. His severed head dropped to the ground.

The surroundings freezed for a moment. There were barely any enemies left on the battlefield. However our side also had a tremendous loss. More than half died and others were barely alive. They just accomplished the impossible.

Amidst the somber aftermath, I rushed to where Roderick lay, his life ebbing away. His breaths were shallow, and his once-vibrant eyes now held the pallor of imminent death.

"Although our second regiment was strong, our enemies consisted of around 20,000 people and they were protected by mountains. I don't understand why you would all come here without any question. You could have easily ignored my ridiculous command of charging straight through."

"We trust you, Lord Blackwood. When we were discarded by others, you took us in. We won't hesitate if you ask for us to die."

I don't know what to say anymore. Feelings I never had started to surge within me.

"Sir, what will you do now?"

"I… don't know"

"Live normally sir, like you always wanted to, without shedding any blood… Cough Cough"

His death was coming closer.

"See you on the other side, sir…"

"Rest in peace Roderick"