Location: Servorum-Inimicus border

Units: 1st Division, Royal Servorum Army

Date: July 6th 1291 SB

The day had finally come for the Reaper King, his greatest trial, his greatest fear. One he might lose to. The Reaper King was a nickname given to King Jonathon Mclaw of Servorum, he was one of the Great Servorum Kings.

This world was different to the modern world of 2021 with the NZA, Lian Walters and Jonathon's other enemies. But the Reaper King still had enemies here; many, many enemies. Jonathon was an old man at the age of 52, when he was younger he developed several blade fighting styles. That's what made him so dangerous along with soldiers of the first division.

The first division was a group of a thousand soldiers directly under the Kings command, nicknamed 'The Dead Men.' They wore bloodied steel full plate armour with paint made to make the armour look uncleaned and battle-hardened.

A few hundred metres behind the dead men was the second division which consisted of five hundred horsemen, two thousand archers and four-thousand infantry grunts. In total it was an army of six thousand frontline troops, however, this was only the quick response force made to hold back the enemy.

King Jonathon wore a black short cloak with his hood hiding his upper face. Under that cloak, he wore chainmail armour coated in leather and finally a breastplate on top. His steel gauntlets were painted in a dark grey and on his feet, he wore black leather boots.

A man in what seemed to be chipped armour ran up to him and knelt, "Sire, our scouts have located the enemy army," he spoke loud and clear, "They are currently about 8 kilometres away coming straight through the forest."

Mclaw nodded, "Understood, order the men to dig in, we wait for their attack."

The messenger turned and left the small tent leaving Jonathon to stare into the darkness. He started to get a bad feeling about the upcoming battle, 'How do I win?' He asked himself.

He knew that the nation of Inimicus was backed by Octoglade, a nation in the far east that excels in science and especially guns. Many of their weapons were dangerous; cannons and flintlock weapons were the worst. Over his time as king, he'd encountered them now and then in small amounts but never on the scale that was about to unfold.

"Two-thousand Musketeers," he whispered, he shook himself back into reality, "Fine let's do this."

He jumped from his chair and exited the tent.

As he opened the curtain, several soldiers ran past him carrying a large box of armour and weapons, their heads spun and instantly they dropped the box bowing before Jonathon.

"Carry on," Jonathon walked past them as they started carrying the box again.

Just then a horse rode into Mclaws sights. A single white steed stopped in front of Mclaw before the rider jumped off. Immediately he slung back his white hood revealing something Mclaw raised an eyebrow at.

"You don't really show your ears that much," Mclaw remarked.

The horseman's ears were cut and scarred. But in certain places, they appeared to be longer than the average person's ears. This man wasn't of the homo sapien species, but rather an offshoot known to people as the elves. In this world there were two main offshoots of homo sapiens, the elves and beast people; thousands of years ago, legend says, beast people were once fully human but were experimented on by a mad scientist from one of the first nations of this world. The result ended in the creation of the beast people. That urban legend became a symbol of oppression against both offshoots of homo sapiens. Mclaw had slowly been trying to find a way to get rid of the stigma and slavery of these races only two years ago did he manage to outlaw slavery of non-military combatants, but the deal was shaky at best. He'd even had to purge the nobles twice because they tried to assassinate him on both occasions.

The elven horse rider by the name of Jeul Hardson patted his horse, "Yes, sire, well today is very important, you should get back to the capital."

Mclaw chuckled, "Not in a billion moons," suddenly Mclaws face grew grey, "Jeul, We are on the edge of death here, the scouts report the enemy are no more than ten kilometres away, I'm not running."

"With all due respect, your majesty, if you stay you will die here; Servorum needs you, you can't win this battle no matter how hard you try!" Jeul reasoned.

Mclaw turned to look to the future battlefield, "Oh yeah?" Mclaw said still looking away, "Who's gonna lead these men to their deaths? Who's going to show the way to whatever world we go to next?"

Jeul gritted his teeth, "I will, s-sire" he looked away to the ground.

"Say that to my face," Mclaw spoke softly, "Tell me you will not falter and lead these men to a pointless death, tell me at least you can kill the enemy commander," Mclaw was now no more than three inches from Jeul, prodding his chest with a single finger, "Tell me you can make these people lives have meaning."

Jeul shot Mclaw a saddened look, "And you can?"

Mclaw smiled, "Of course, I can, doesn't mean I can escape unscathed though," Mclaw paused, "Even if I survived this battle, I don't have too long left in me, twenty years at most maybe? You on the other hand still have well over one hundred and fifty, letting someone like you die this early on would leave a sour taste in my mouth."

Mclaw was an excellent liar at times, or more accurately, excellent at hiding his true feelings. Mclaw had formed a strong liking for Jeul as he was a trustworthy subordinate and one of Mclaw's greatest fighters, he also saw Jeul as the closest thing he had as a successor for many of his fighting styles. Mclaw knew he would go on a rampage if he saw Jeul die, he would spare no one. There are very few people Mclaw would do this for and Jeul had unknowingly become one of them.

Mclaw turned away, "Go back to the main army and inform them to be defensive, also inform the blacksmith that we will need more mobile cover, remember that phrase 'mobile cover'; you may not understand it, but the castle blacksmiths will."

"I must protest, sire," Jeul said in shock at what he was hearing.

Mclaw's eyebrow twitched, "Go. Or I'll make you."

Jeul opened his mouth to argue more but stopped himself only managing to say one thing, "Come back alive, sire."

Mclaw stood there, "Be well, Jeul, may we meet again one day."

Jeul left as quickly as he had come.

Mclaw continued to position his troops on a hillside with the cavalry hidden behind the large hill. Behind them were the archers as well as the rest of the 2nd Division. Within the next few minutes, several holes started to form with soldiers disappearing into the ground.

***

A few hours passed and the army awaited their enemies.

They waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

Mclaw was bunkered down alongside his men, as he peeked out of his dugout he saw something coming over the hills. Hundreds of them, but above them flew several beasts of the sky, Wyverns.

The wyverns were a common military beast in many countries on the eastern continent used for transport speed, however, they were easily killed by arrow barrages so not many were deployed in regular confrontations.

"Signal for Wyverns," Mclaw commanded to one of his subordinates.

The subordinate tied the end of a piece of string around his hand and started to yank it as hard as he could, the wire flipped and tightened. The wire was a quiet communication system used to signal rear troops and archers to commence their attack or relay another specified order. On the other end were several attached swords which would swing back and forth depending on the order given.

Each one of the dead men sat in their trenches awaiting the attack. Their holes were covered by netting sheltered by grass and leaves to conceal themselves and their gear. Each one of them peaked the slightest bit trying not to give away their position.

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The Inimicus troops still advanced further, but nothing happened.

Each step they took marked another second had passed. The steel armour clanked against the grassy ground.

It grew closer.

Then the horses came.

Cavalry charging forward quickly passed the infantry and moved past the dead men.

Mclaw whispered aggressively, "Is it ready?"

The infantryman behind him nodded, "One final tug sir!"

They hadn't been noticed but when the infantry arrived a few of the enemy were sure to fall through the floor into the nests.

"PULL IT!" Mclaw yelled and the soldier yanked the cord as hard as he could, in the distance a ringing started followed by a barrage of flaming arrows, "Everyone up!" Mclaw and his troops arose ambushing the nearby horsemen, skewering them while still mounted. The dead men moved like ghosts through the fields with Mclaw in the lead. But they walked.

The enemy foot soldiers just watched as the army of the dead marched on their position. That was the other thing about this troop of soldiers, they struck fear into everyone they faced. They had never lost a battle always coming out on top, that's what made their image so terrifying.

Around them, wyverns fell from the sky; impaled by flaming arrows.

Suddenly, the enemy broke into action. Musketeers marched forward weapons raised, three groups of five hundred muskets total, where were the rest? Was his information incorrect? Maybe, maybe not. Mclaw would just have to find out.

"Shields up!" he yelled.

Pulling iron shields from their back they placed them in front of their upper body only exposing their legs and eyes.

A voice from across the battlefield started to speak, "FIRST UNIT, OP--"

Mclaw cut him off, "DOWN!" His soldiers dropped to one knee covering their whole bodies with the shield.

"OPEN FIRE!" he finished.

The end of the guns lit up launching smoke and light onto the battlefield along with a spray of lead.

"Second and third units, FIRE!" the voice called out again and another two rows lit up, followed by the smoke and lead.

Mclaw stood up followed by the rest of his men, "THIRTY SECONDS! CHARGE!"

The whole army let out a bellow as another barrage of arrows landed among the enemy forces. Mclaw led the charge, all of them bear their ghostly teeth and followed their King.

From both directions horseshoes started to trample the ground, the 2nd division's horsemen had arrived! When they all turned to ride alongside the infantry a single horse blasted through the forces at maximum speed straight towards Mclaw.

He nodded at it and whistled.

Jumping, the horse caught him and he flipped round onto the back of the horse, "Let's kill these fuckers, girl," he said to his horse as he sped to the front of the horse formation.

Drawing a spear he flipped it around in his hand.

"FIRST UNIT!" the enemy commander started to say but instantly fell quiet in fear as he saw the Reaper. He froze as the black hooded legend rode towards him holding a spear.

Mclaw carefully stood on his saddle balancing the spear. His target: Fifty metres.

"Let's do this," he whispered convincing himself. Drawing back his spear arm he let out a blood-curling war cry, "AAAAAAAAAARGGGHH!"

Propelling the spear, he threw it as hard as he could.

As it flew through the air, the enemy just stared waiting for commands. But none would ever come.

The spear split the commander's head in two causing him to collapse. The enemy forces were sent into immediate disarray all firing randomly. None of the pellets were on target, all missing above the horsemen and dead army.

Mclaw drew his single-handed sword again and leapt at the nearest enemy. Instantly jumping on top of them, he slashed off their head. Another tried to attack him with a gun-mounted blade but he dodged it and thrust his blade into the scalp of his enemy. Then two more were charging him, then another four, then ten! They just kept on coming.

Mclaw drew a secondary smaller blade in his left instantly throwing it causing one of the enemies to drop dead instantly. Running to pick it up he slashed two necks causing them to collapse. He kicked another in the stomach sending him flying, before tearing his knife out of the enemy he threw it at earlier.

He stood there looking at everyone he left dead in his wake and he smiled, a devil's grin formed on his face. Turning around he started to giggle under his hood, "C'mon then, come at me!" he said at the enemy.

But no one attacked, so he turned. They were petrified.

He had scared this small group of his enemy so much that they would no longer fight. From their point of view, they were staring down death himself, everyone experienced this to some extent. But only those who faced the Reaper King down were right.

The infantry arrived beheading anyone who didn't fight back while the cavalry picked off any retreaters. It had become a massacre, this vanguard was decimated.

Mclaw looked around at the bodies strewn around him with only one thought, "This was too easy..." he questioned. Why had it been so easy? It made Jonathon feel like something more was afoot.

Suddenly, he clocked it. But it was too late...

BANG!

Several hundred small explosions lit up the hillsides around them, no one had enough time to raise their shields.

Mclaw's eye's widened as he swung his blade in a figure of eight around his body. His blade deflected several shots aimed at him into the ground. But one shot struck him in the thigh.

"Fuck," he cursed, grasping his leg.

Luckily the bullet hadn't properly destroyed any of his insides only barely scratching the outside before stopping. Mclaw yanked out the round and threw it to the side.

Several hundred armed men appeared from the grass, they had all been laying down in firing positions. Their armour was painted a dark green and their muskets were fully brown. They each wore minimal armour only sporting breastplates, shin pads and gauntlets.

"King Mclaw, surrender or be annihilated," a voice called out.

Mclaw turned to face the voice, shouting back, "I want to make a deal."

Laughing came from the hilltops before it was quickly silenced, "Reaper, I'm sure you know, but your troops are finished, they're all heavily injured or dead," he paused, "We've already flanked and killed the 2nd division and taken out your horsemen."

"This will better you even more if you win," Mclaw reasoned.

He saw the enemy leader turn his head before turning back, "Do tell."

"I'd like to request a duel, one on one combat," Mclaw asked.

The enemy leader mounted a horse and rode forward, "Interesting, how does this benefit me?"

Mclaw smiled, "As you can see I'm heavily injured and tired, you have a very good chance of beating me."

The enemy leader laughed, "Ah I see your point, so if you win your army gets to survive, if I win I get the honour of killing you."

Mclaw replied nodding, "Correct."

"Then I accept, but I also get to call you Jonathon whether I lose or win," He smiled.

Mclaw replied, "Such a strange demand but I'll allow it."

"Okay Jonathon," he said jumping from his horse and drawing his sword.

Mclaw had gotten what he wanted, a chance to send the enemy into disarray. He knew he couldn't win in conventional warfare so he would have to do something to disrupt the balance.

'Appear weak when you are strong,' he had heard those exact words from Eher. Eher was what could only be described as a demigod, one of the four rulers of the universe. An Aufer.

Mclaw sheathed his sword grabbing his side, "By the Aufers, this aches," he said to himself.

He saw his opponent eyes slightly shift, the enemy leader had fallen for it.

"Right then, let's begin," Mclaw said.

They started to circle each other, Mclaw only holding a small knife and the enemy's commander with a standard longsword. Suddenly, the enemy commander darted toward the Reaper weapon ready to attack. He aimed for Jonathon's side making a fatal error.

Mclaw precisely dodged the longsword grabbing his opponent's arm and slamming his blade into it. The enemy yelled out in pain as he recoiled back in shock. Slumping to the ground he stared at the wound inflicted by the Reaper.

The Reaper walked forward and stood over his enemy, "Now die for me," and Mclaw slit his throat.

As he stood up, blood stained his cheeks and clothes. He had that look in his eyes, a glare of death. But to him, something felt different this time. It felt more sinister, evil almost.

Mclaw wiped his blade and looked at the musketeers around him, "Retreat or else."

One of the soldiers stepped forward and raised his musket. Firing off his shot, Mclaw dodged it and drew his sword again pointing it at the soldier, "You have no respect for your fallen leader's honour?"

He got no response, only a bullet to the back of the thigh but he still kept moving. Putting in all his effort he yelled at the top of his lungs for one final hurrah. Darting forward he leapt like a wild monster towards his foes. Closing the distance before anyone could hit him, he was right on top of them. Jumping into the air he threw his knife into the forehead of the soldier who looked the closest to reloading. He then took two more heads with his blade. A musket ball hit him in the abdomen only causing him to stop for a second. But he recovered quickly. He was back to slicing, going left to right he started to let his bloodlust get the best of him, the reaper had truly come out to play.

Another shot to the left shoulder caused him to lose all control of one of his arms, but he couldn't stop. He knew he must win. Even if it cost him his life. Even if it cost him everything apart from the kingdom he tried to build. He must win, for his people.

Within two seconds twenty more soldiers fell to the floor throats slit, and blood poured onto the field leaving an eternal mark.

A soldier charged Jonathon with a bayonet fixed to his musket, not realising Mclaw stood there completely zoned out, searching for his next kill.

As the soldier drew closer, Mclaw turned and kicked the blade away causing it to slash his shin. Another three lead balls tore threw his upper chest finally knocking him to his knees, his breathing slowed but he couldn't stop fighting, not till they retreated.

"Fine then," Jonathon said smiling as he spat blood, "You want to die so much, I might as well give it to you."

Several men started to move towards him muskets loaded, in a line, they let off several rounds. Very few of them hit while the others landed around him.

He looked to the ground and closed his eyes, "First Flame Missus."

Several balls of flame started to appear around him as the soldiers stopped in their tracks wondering what they were seeing.

When Jonathon said his last words, "Daisan ni Control Deus."

The balls of flame started to dart around the field rapidly, piercing through the skulls of his enemies causing them to collapse onto the ground. Inside of their bodies, streams of flame lit the organs alight causing them to instantly burn up, and then the flame would incinerate the body within. This death was extremely fast with the pain only lasting less than a second.

What Jonathon just conducted was one of the few magic spells he had learned from the demigod of heat, Eher. Magic was a very rare commodity in this day and age, one only the strongest possessed. One magic-user could decide the battle but if a novice were to use it too much, their body could suffer from it. That's why Jonathon only used it on very rare occasions as a last case scenario.

Mclaw slumped to the floor, he was so tired. Too tired to move or fight, 'if one of my soldiers saw him what would they say?' He thought to himself.

But he couldn't get up slowly his vision started to fade to black. The icky black substance obscured his sight.

He tried to move his hands, but he felt nothing. He then tried to move his feet, but again... nothing.

'Was this death?' he asked himself, 'I guess I really deserve this, don't I?'