Beneath my outstretched arm, the very ground groaned and shook. For a single, short moment, the precious little light that was left around me darkened even more, and something began to unearth itself. From the depths, and a thunderous crackle that trumped the one before, the Blood Maul materialized and rose into my firm grip.

The moment my fingers held the ancient shaft, an electrifying pulse of energy ran through my arm and into my very soul. It was like a reunion with an old friend. The Blood Maul was mine again to wield, and it felt even mightier in my gauntleted hand.

“We are a greater thing now, you and I, Master,” said Goxhandar, and his voice boomed even louder and clearer. Where once it had seemed muffled, it now rang clear and unwavering. His confidence emboldened me even more.

A fierce gust of wind erupted from where I stood, disturbing the pink flames that swirled around me. With a wicked thought, I directed those very flames directly into the Enemy’s foremost ranks. All those who were in its path stopped and retreated like panicked animals. Others simply stood, awed over the display.

None dared to attack until a dark will forced their bodies to obey.

From behind me, I heard a line commander yell out. It came from the left, where the Lienor volunteers were. “Here they come, men! Stand ready!”

I dared to look backward for a moment, my heart aching for Florencia’s safety. There she stood, her sleek longsword drawn and already with a fierce orange glow. Her face was painted with shock and fear.

I sent her a quick telepathic message. “Please be careful. Stay close to Jace and Iskander. Keep the soldiers safe. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Florencia replied, and I sensed even through the telepathic utterance that she was using all her will to not berate my recklessness. “I will! Please stay safe and don’t do anything more stupid!”

And then, the enemies of Stotor did come. None of them could be considered human.

They were barely dressed, wrapped in nothing more than tattered rags that barely covered their modesty, or sometimes it didn’t. Any man would’ve frozen to death in an hour, but these did not, kept alive by the malicious will of their commander.

Instead of clothes, their bruised and emaciated bodies bore the marks of ritualistic scars and tattoos, etched with jagged symbols and fragments of sentences. Many had covered themselves from head to toe in these markings, turning their visage into something bestial and demonic. I knew it was enough to unnerve even our seasoned soldiers. Some would, indeed, piss themselves.

As they came closer, I sensed a strong dark magic pulse from these very symbols. It was through these dark markings that the Enemy was able to endure the cold and the relentless pace of their advance. But the worst about these savages was the pure, bone-chilling evil that reflected from their coal-black eyes. I could not read nor sense any coherent thoughts from them. They instead spoke in grunts and growls, if that was some primitive communication at all.

But the real danger was those who walked among the slaves—massive, towering brutes of empowered thralls. Twisted and corrupted by their demonic masters, they had bulging, sinewy muscles and skin as of stone. They were the ones who directed the countless horde of beastmen. Whenever I focused my attention on them, I sensed echoes of commands issued by them, met with unquestioning obedience from the mob.

“Cut those down, and the rest would descend into chaos,” said Goxhandar. It was a fine theory, and I was about to test it out. I was certain, quite certain, that our soldiers could handle these savages, but it was up to me to take down as many of those brutes as I could.

Goxhandar’s terrifying presence, along with the ever-present flames around me had deterred any enemy from attacking me, so I took that as my opening and threw myself into the fight.

It was I who opened the battle of the Poscale River.

My attack came with such lightning speed and ferocity that none who stood before me could muster a reaction in time. When the Blood Maul was swung for the first time, all who stood in its path were caught up in a stupefied trance, too stunned by my sheer audacity.

Their vacant stares remained fixated dumbly upon the maul’s wide, sweeping arc, and only let out a meek grunt as the first ranks were mercilessly mowed down as if they were made from glass. Most exploded into red mist and chunks of flesh, rent limb from limb.

For the first time in this world, my armor was stained with fresh blood.

Such was the speed of the attack that I managed another swing before the enemy could even turn to flee. I advanced, propelled by my armor’s complimentary strength, and I could not count in the heat of the moment how many I tore to pieces in those opening attacks.

When I finally stopped and gathered strength, I looked down and saw the grass run red with crimson, and in a wide circular swath surrounding me, the Enemy had been felled.

“That was easy,” I told Goxhandar.

“I need more!” he replied bluntly.

“You shall have more.”

My focus hones in on finding the nearest brute directing this section of the attack. Quickly I saw one stumbling about a hundred yards away. It stood tall and great, with enhanced musculature, and I sprinted towards it. Some savages dared to challenge me with their pathetic clubs, but my maul was so effortlessly quick and weightless in my hand that none of them had enough time to take a swing before I tore them apart.

The carnage I brought upon the Enemy drew the attention of my target, and it turned to face me. What a loathsome creature it was! Whether that was once a man or woman, I could not even tell, as its features were corrupted into a gruesome amalgamation of rotting stone and festering scabs.

Killing that abomination would be a merciful act, and would save the lives of many soldiers, but that I only thought about later.

The wretched creature was so tall that my eyes barely reached its chest, but it moved slowly and sluggishly. I closed the distance unharassed, and the brute hoisted its club that was as tall as a man, with rusty spikes driven through it and was about to strike me down. I was sure even my armor would not save me from such a powerful strike.

But what that creature had in strength, it lacked in speed. Before it could even bring that stupid club downward, I swung my maul upward.

In a sickening thud, the colossal body of the brute broke apart, its fleshy and rotten parts flying all around me and into the Enemy’s ranks.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

“Broken!” cried Goxhandar with joy. “More, Master. I need more!”

“Temper yourself, Goxhandar. The battle has only begun. We shall claim enough before the day is done.”

Cries of despair or grunts of malevolence followed, but all who were under the brute’s command recoiled and fell over. Some were already attacking colonel Piasno’s men, and the psychic backlash caused those to twitch and writhe, only to be pierced by spear or halberd.

But that moment of chaos lasted only for a fleeting moment before another malevolent will took over the leaderless horde, and the retreating savages turned around and attacked anew.

Hundreds upon hundreds of half-naked men and women crashed against the spears of the Lienor lines, and the crude weaponry of the Stotor volunteers—once their own countrymen and comrades.

This was the terrible reality of demonic corruption. Without thought or care these savages threw themselves into certain death. Would it be a fair fight of the same numbers, they would fail and die, but the army against us that day outnumbered us manyfold. The Enemy was not human, not in body nor in thought.

“Master, focus!” Goxhandar brought me back, and I searched for the next brute to kill.

The fields of Poscale were now wholly enveloped in a maddening cacophony of screams and cries of pain. Shrill barks of shouted commands filled my ears, and an unceasing flow of blood painted the trampled grass with vivid crimson. Every one of our defensive lines was under relentless assault, yet none had broken. There were, though, some dead from our ranks.

But our lines held, and I had to keep moving.

A momentary silence descended upon the field, and I heard an unutterable malice laugh from somewhere very far away, but it faded the moment I had noticed it.

I saw my next target, and I advanced towards it with purpose. The brute, looking similar to the previous one, was marching towards colonel Piasno’s men, making ready to break the first line of spears. Before it, its slaves threw their lives away in reckless attack, their bodies cut to pieces by the spear, the axe, and the mace.

I advanced towards it with a jog, reaping a toll of death with my maul against those few who dared to strike against me. But wherever I went, the Enemy cowered. They could not use their hate and demonic thoughts properly against me because of the protective spells I’d tattooed and scarred into my skin. Their thoughts were interrupted, and their movements were stunted by my mere presence. This jarring moment of confusion from anyone I came against, was enough for me to tear them apart.

Soon the brute became acutely aware of my approach, as a trail of countless fallen enemies marked my advance. Its commanding will shifted and compelled its thralls to turn and assail me with frenzy. Like flies, they fell upon me, and like flies, I broke them as they came.

Many among them had been attacking colonel Piasno’s lines only moments before, and now that they turned their lust for blood against me, they were pierced and felled by the very soldiers they had just been attacking.

But those who reached me were no match. Not anymore. Not even a dozen at a time could offer a challenge, as the Blood Maul was a tool of death unmatched upon this battlefield. And the added erratic aura of flames that periodically enveloped me, rendered it almost impossible for these savages to pose a threat.

Unless I was injured or maimed, of course.

As the brute turned tail and fled upon realizing the doom that was approaching, I felt personally insulted. How dare this foul, wicked beast escape? Was it not only a moment before so gleefully dealing death to Piasno’s men, and now it cowered before my might? That I would not have!

“Face me you coward!” I whispered, but the brute’s long, thick legs carried it away with incredible speed. I was certain I could catch up to it, but I did not want to pursue it too deep in the enemy’s army.

Yet the desire to slay the brute lingered, and I recalled the moment in Veneiea when I summoned the psychic attack that felled the demon there so easily. As I focused on that memory, the air around me began to sizzle and crackle, as hot oil on a pan, and my nose filled with a sweet, metallic scent.

With my left gauntleted hand, I took aim, and with a murderous thought, a deafening explosion of light erupted from my fingertips. A blinding bolt of white-blue flew through the air, evaporating anything it touched. It reduced the cowardly brute to smoldering lumps of cinder. The blast wave knocked down anyone near its path, and for quite some time, none could get up. Some savages who had been too close, had burn marks all over their skin.

I was rather pleased with myself.

Now the combat was in full swing, and I felt myself oddly comfortable amidst it all. Looking at the tumult, I saw how every unit of the Lienor army was in desperate melee against a number three times its own size. Countless foes lay lifeless, their dead bodies covering the trampled fields, and the once-pristine grasslands were turned into a heavy bog of drown and red.

I trudged forward towards my next target.

This particular foe moved with surprising swiftness and had even longer limbs than the one before it. Its muscles wrapped around its bones in unnatural paths, and its skin was hard and covered in strange wispy barbs. Ten of Piasno’s men surrounded it, desperately trying to stab at its legs, but their spears failed to pierce its corrupted hide.

Before I could even raise my hand, the brute swung its massive club and crushed four shieldsmen in a single swipe. The rest scattered, but one was seized before it could run far enough. The brute then shook the poor soldier so violently that it sprayed blood all over his fallen comrades.

I quickened my pace.

“Face me, you damned coward!” I barked through my helmet, and with a flick of my wrist, launched a broken sword handle at it.

It hit its elongated and featureless face where the brow should have been with a dull thud before bouncing off. The brute did not take that challenge well, let out a maddened roar, and charged at me. But now that it stood alone without Piasno’s men surrounding it, I did not honor that creature with a fight.

I extended my arm and split its body into pieces with another bolt of psychic lightning.

A roaring tumult followed from the leaderless savages. Capitalizing on the momentary respite, Piasno’s men swiftly reorganized their ranks, filling in any gaps.

“For home! For the Crown! For the King!” I heard them passionately chant and shout. With that ringing in their hearts, they made their lines strong again.

Finally, I could catch my breath. The lightning attack demanded a heavy tax on my strength. I kneeled down and drove Goxhandar headlong into the ground. He and I had effectively cleared an entire section of the battlefield of foes, leaving none daring to challenge our might.

From where I was, between Piasno’s men and the Lienor volunteers, I could see across the battlefield and how it was progressing. Our lines held, but the Stotor lines were being hit ever harder. I saw a stream of savages pouring against them, and slowly but surely, the Stotor volunteers were being pushed back.

I could not see how many of our men had fallen, but the Enemy’s losses were already grave.

Then, an orange light caught my attention. I saw it from the corner of my eye, and I turned.

There I witnessed Florencia, whom I had, to my shame, forgotten in the melee.

She stood in the front line, where the fighting was heaviest, and wielded her slender longsword that glowed orange. And before her, she weaved a deadly firestorm that could easily best mine. In this fiery light, her sword almost seemed to be alight itself. Every cut and swing that connected, birthed a flash of light, leaving behind charred bodies in its wake.

Standing to her right were Jace and Iskander, fighting in formidable tandem with great skill and greater speed. Though they had less flair than my fiery Florencia. They fought valiantly at the forefront, inspiring the Lienor volunteers with their display. Jace was frighteningly quick with his bastard sword, while Iskander was almost as savage as his enemies with how he fought. His greatsword commanded a mighty presence, and there were not many who even dared to approach this man.

To their right were the Knights of Hanuk, under the inspiring leadership of Rosalda Fiorlunta. These knights fought and held the line as the men-at-arms around them, and encouraged all who gazed at their magnificence. Their white tabards were now streaked with red and brown, and around them shone an aura of blue radiant mist. Every strike that they delivered to the Enemy, a faint blue flash of light flashed, and a dull crackle buzzed before them.

The battle went on.

With the Blood Maul in my hand, I cleaved through more hordes of savages, felling all brutes or great commanders of the Enemy. Leaving behind me craters in the earth, and delivering powerful blows that echoed like distant thunder, I advanced.

As time wore on, my muscles began to ache, and desperately needed rest. A fire coursed through my veins, and even with my armor, I was not immune to simple exhaustion. As I took another moment to gather my strength, I saw in the enemy’s back lines a great dark figure watching the unfolding battle.

This creature was no brute. This was their commander.

Could it be?