To kill.

That was all he needed to do. Simple as it is.

As long as Osias thought of that… it was as though a fog lifted in his mind.

…With a growl his great sword passed through the heads of some unfortunate Ordinaries, uncaring of what armor they donned. All was the same at his sword’s edge.

It was madness through the ramparts, likely more than a dozen areas were being assailed by the siege towers, some even headed by a Urotys.

So Osias and his bannermen just needed to hold their position within scads of Golden Hawks. Until they could secure a foothold before a Urotys would come to their aid.

Another vicious arc sounded and Osias cleaved the very life of a haughty First Ordeal that desired to meet him in combat.

His neck was separated so fast Osias didn’t have the chance to discern what Ordeal Ability warranted such foolishness.

‘Blood, blood, blood!’

Dashing through swathes of men he never stopped swinging his sword, he needed to lead his maddened men.

“Visalros!”

Osias glanced to his right, and Geral was right there stuffing a dagger so deep into a Golden Hawk’s skull that the poor Ordinary would have to be buried along with a blade that reaped their lives.

“Visalros!”

Another swipe of his massive sword took another spray of blood he greedily devoured and took for his own. He could fight indefinitely if it was against such weak foes.

…If what Osias and all the other Red Feather Bannermen felt as they laid eyes upon the great walls was fear, then Osias wanted to return it.

The Golden Hawk’s soldiers in front of him trembled as his sword moved with both ferocity and grace. Savage fright as their lines were decimated.

“Visalros!” A weak voice gargled.

A little behind Osias and to his left, Vernon, one of the faces Osias has come to know from his very first day fell to a First Ordeal — though not before embedding a sword deep into their leg.

Seeing Vernon drop to his knees as the last wisps of his life were taken atop these damned ramparts, Osias pounced onto the weakened First Ordeal without hesitation.

Within a blink's notice, a furious line of flames erupted from the First Ordeal’s hands.

‘I won’t make the same mistake again.’ Osias dismissed, rolling aside into the First Ordeal’s comrades, careful not to breathe in the scalding heat.

He let the wild flames engulf both Golden Hawk soldiers and his followers alike as he weaved through the swathes of men, and with a quick slash, Osias severed the man’s arm.

‘Die!’

Thrusting his gauntlet deep into the open stump, Osias cruelly used Blood Reave before bringing his sword to the collapsed man’s chest to finish.

Osias could only throw another look at the fallen Vernon before continuing to establish their foothold.

‘This… my followers are falling in droves.’ He thought with a frown.

Bending over and reaching into Vernon’s gash-ridden body, Osias made sure to take a piece of Vernon along with him.

They all came up tired and weary, but they compensated with their ferocity.

Glancing behind at the siege tower, more and more men from both his lingering followers and other companies used the pristine platform to come to their aid.

Even Jentyses came to aid Osias!

So he continued to fight.

But then a baleful bellow came from just outside the walls, but Osias didn’t care to look — he already knew the Third and Fourth Ordeals were battling.

He needed to focus on his battle and soak the walls in the blood.

He launched himself forward into the brutal melee once more.

Spears, swords, and shields all rang against his black armor of a Jentys — something Osias has come to be thankful for its resilience.

Those of the Golden Hawk screamed, cried, and pleaded as they died.

Osias has fought endlessly for those days in the open battle… he was already accustomed to fighting amidst the chaos of many.

Ferocity, he never stopped, for that would be his death no matter how strong he was.

He’ll whittle down as many as he can.

…But just as his blade separated the head from another Ordinary, Osias felt it.

The unfathomable pull he once felt to undergo this entire Ordeal. The same pull that brought him into this unfamiliar land.

‘Inside the city?’

“Visalros!”

His followers continued to battle alongside with more reinforcements funneling outside the siege towers, and slowly they were almost approaching another foothold secured by another siege tower.

There, they’ll pincer the Golden Hawk’s soldiers.

The rugged great sword flashed through the air with an unnatural speed for how large it was, yet its wielder was equally as towering and frightening. Each swipe cuts through the air as it Osias lobbed arms and legs alike to reach the other foothold atop the ramparts.

‘Far away, but I’m closer.’

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He infused some of his essence into his blade as he slammed the hardy blade downwards onto a First Ordeal on their knees pitifully attempting to block his attack.

But his sword simply cleaved through both their armored gauntlets and split his head.

Osias’s tattoos surged as he continuously fed them and in return they flowed into his reservoir, invigorating him to continue this massacre of the Golden Hawk as he surged forward in a storm of steel and blood.

‘Closer!’

Suddenly a great hammer of stone — rugged and rocky as it was, appeared above Osias before it dropped onto his head.

Osias brought his sword above his head and because of its broadness, Osias was able to block much of the stone hammer’s blow, but not its weight as even Osias was pushed down.

‘Agh—’

Straining himself with both hands, he was open for the Ordinaries to surge forth to strike him down as he was occupied, so he quickly lept out of the crushing hammer and abandoned his blade — after all, the target was Osias himself.

But before Osias could engage once more, another Jentys has joined alongside him.

Osias shared no words with the unfamiliar Jentys but welcomed his presence.

Retrieving his sword, Osias watched as the Jentys threw something small and obscured from beneath their lightly armored wrists and suddenly an enemy soldier’s head was crumpled — helmet and all turned into a bloody mess from the object so small even Osias had to focus to see.

Then, the hammer of stone was dismantled into bits as it fell over the swathes of men.

Shaking his head, Osias continued to fight, fortunate for the aid.

Eventually, they secured a large section of the ramparts as they united with another mix of companies from another siege tower.

But Osias didn’t care for that — now undeterred from the Golden Hawk Bannermen, Osias quickly tried to narrow that pull he felt.

‘Inside… the city.’

It was faint, impossibly so, but it was profound and he couldn’t mistake such a feeling.

But over the interior of the walls… were hundreds, perhaps thousands of different buildings so large he couldn’t study them all.

However, he felt it as his eyes narrowed whilst dodging a stray arrow.

In the center of the city was another arrow of walls. They were less mighty and rugged, but they looked like a pure and unspoiled white.

Enclosed inside these grand walls of the interior, was something no less than a palace. Osias could’ve imagined it was built for a king of old from the time before the Three Factions were formed.

Even from so far away, its regal gold shimmered below the same sun that illuminates war and strife. It was vastly different from where Osias stood and outside the walls. The sky was darkened by clouds of smoke, blotting out the sun, turning the battlefield into a twilight of blood-soaked rock and scattered debris. The distant cries of soldiers shouting orders barely pierced the thick din of battle as warriors clashed beneath the shadow of the towering walls.

But there, Osias felt it.

Somewhere inside the noble and unsullied palace where the sun shone brilliantly… was who he needed to kill to return. The Ordeal was calling his name, gnawing at his mind, pulling him towards strength.

…In the next moment, Osias couldn’t concern himself with how to succeed in his Ordeal, as the very stones that made the ramparts he stood atop began to rumble with such ferocity.

Then a blood-curdling roar sounded, cutting through the sounds of war with more intensity than any horn or drum.

‘That demon of corpses…’ Osias realized, looking behind him and outside of the walls.

He pushed it aside — the fighting between the Third and Fourth Ordeals. He couldn’t intrude nor risk enduring a stray blow from such figures.

Even if their battle would dictate whether he survived.

As the rest of the Red Feather Bannermen struggled to hold the narrow junction between the siege towers, Osias sprinted to the far side to peer over the edge of the wall to catch a glimpse of the calamities in battle.

What he saw astounded him. Awe… fear, even washed over him.

The Red Feathered Fourth Ordeal.

Feathers of such a pure red as though they’ve been kissed with bloody lips. The feathers were innumerable as they separated from the winged man.

A storm of red streaked with blood as they mercilessly cut down what Osias sensed was the Third Ordeals of the Golden Hawk.

All the while the demon-like abomination made from corpses groaned and shook the earth before battering into the main gate.

The hardy walls that Osias and his followers fought so direly atop rumbled and tremored against its might — Osias was thankful all the siege towers avoided the center of the wall.

Peering past the storm of men atop the ramparts, the unfortunate Golden Hawk soldiers that were posted atop the main gate were flustered and did all they could to aid their Third Ordeals against both the corpse demon and red-winged man.

Abruptly, something menacing awoke, and Osias’s senses screamed in response — that he shouldn’t remain in this place any longer.

“Alasii, va amir, Herotys!” A hiss sounded in his head.

He clutched his head and staggered lightly before jabbing his sword against the stone to support him.

But Osias wasn’t alone, as every Red Feather soldier atop the wall, from the Ordinary to the Urotyses halted their battle.

Swords were left lingering in the air, spears were stuck and embedded into men, absent breaths held so carefully… every man atop the walls didn’t dare breathe.

Even those donning the Golden Hawk halted and instead turned around to face the palace at the center of their city with trembling hands.

As though they knew of the being that warranted such presence and reverence.

From the corner of Osias’s eyes, the red-winged Fourth Ordeal began to flutter in place as a maelstrom of red circled him.

The giant corpse demon crumpled the wall as its strength resounded throughout, yet no one reacted to it.

Osias has felt it before — many times, really.

In the face of the absolute… he could only cower.

It was so eerily quiet, and only the distant groans from the many faces strewn on the demon and the light flutters of the red-winged Fourth Ordeals could be heard.

Inwardly, Osias cursed as he forced himself to stand.

As he did, he felt something so indescribably lethal begin to form.

From the above brilliant aureate palace something tantamount to what Osias believed was the end of the world — an unbounded calamity was to befall against his fellow bannermen.

An immense energy suddenly manifested, a blazing sun, and in just a few seconds, it rapidly expanded until everyone could only kneel in submission. It was like the sun that shone above the tales of the heavens had descended to their mortal world.

His followers and the others around them realized this too, forcing what little wads of strength remained to turn around.

The siege towers were too far.

So the only way to run… was to drop from the wall.

Everywhere atop the ramparts, his bannerman began to fall in the numbers, desperately throwing themselves off the towering falls. Osias watched as one by one… familiar faces and some not, plummeted to their deaths.

Soldiers so mad in death’s rhythm decided to kill themselves…

‘A-a sword?’ Osias wondered as the gleaming golden wisps began to form.

A sword that stretched from the palace to beyond the clouds began to befall onto the center of the wall, headed straight for the red-winged Fourth Ordeal and the lumbering corpse-strewn demon with a merciless humm, cleaving the sky itself.

The regal and kingly sword absurdly passed through those who wore the Golden Hawk against their chestplate and the towering wall.

Red feathers emerged in an impossible number, probably enough to engulf everyone who fought atop the ramparts in an enclosed shadow. They flew to cover the monstrous shimmering sword.

But the pristine edge of the sword was barely held back by the endless onslaught of feathers and then severed the demon-like corpse abomination top to bottom in a fountain of putrid blood.

The cacophony of wails sounded in the distance, yet Osias noticed that the red-winged Fourth Ordeal wasn’t spared either.

Somewhere through the billowed dust, their army’s leader seemed to have furled their wings in front of them to block the blow partially.

Osias couldn’t see the man’s face, yet it couldn’t have been anything other than dismay.

‘Wait.. no!’

The Fourth Ordeal… was turning around.

‘This craven bastard!’

What was left of their wings began to flutter, bringing them into the air, and with an almighty flap, their army’s leader… abandoned them.

Osias blinked from where he stood in shock.

Suddenly the sky seemed to have lifted from each soldier’s back and the cries of fighting and violence continued.

Osias was still against the edge of the wall… the same edge many of his bannermen rather chose to jump off than die or be captured.

‘I… what do I do?’ He thought, his grip loosening around his sword.

Osias watched as the troops below the walls had already begun to retreat in such a shameless manner.

Some atop the ramparts dropped their weapons, and the clanging of steel rang downcastedly.

Some fought bravely to the very end.

But Osias… was lost.

Closer and closer, the Golden Hawk soldiers began to retake what was lost, reaping more lives with each strike of their blades.

And as with a blink…

He was in chains.