In the dark and ominous forest, the once lively campfire had died down, leaving only the faint flicker of torches outside each tent. The air was thick with tension, as the knights who had been drinking and chattering earlier now lay asleep. The slave tent, slightly larger than the others, was filled with the huddled forms of beastmen and humans, both men and women, alongside their children. Their bodies were bruised, and their spirits were broken.
Inside the captain's tent, two knights stood guard. The captain, a man with brown hair and slightly green eyes, sat at a wooden table, reading letters by the light of a flickering lantern. His dark tunic was worn, and a leather breastplate was strapped over it. Opposite him sat the vice-captain, a burly man with a thick beard and piercing blue eyes. His armor was slightly more ornate, indicating his rank.
The captain sighed as he finished reading the letters, placing them on the table. "When did these letters arrive?" he asked, his voice heavy with fatigue.
The vice-captain, still seated, replied, "They came during the time we were setting up camp for the night, sir."
"What is that foolish king thinking?" the captain muttered under his breath.
The vice-captain leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "Captain, is there anything you want me to do?"
"Have I ever been a bad captain?" the captain asked, his voice distant.
The vice-captain, who held his captain in high regard, quickly responded, "No, sir. Never."
The captain's eyes hardened as he sighed again. "The king has ordered us to kill all the slaves we are escorting."
The vice-captain shot up from his seat, anger flashing in his eyes. "We can't do that! These people have suffered enough already. We've destroyed their homes, killed their kin—"
"Sit down," the captain ordered, cutting him off. The vice-captain reluctantly complied, still fuming. "I know," the captain continued, "but we are in checkmate. The king wants to dispose of us too."
"Damn that Balmount king," the vice-captain cursed under his breath.
The captain leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Why now? If the king truly wanted to dispose of us, why not sooner? There must be a reason."
The vice-captain recalled something from before the war. "Captain, I overheard some nobles talking. They were saying that since the Demon King has been vanquished and the hero has returned to his world, they need to strengthen their forces against any incoming attacks from other kingdoms."
The captain, listening intently, nodded slowly. "But how does that explain why we’re being disposed of?"
Then, an idea struck the captain. He chuckled darkly. "It’s not about strengthening their forces. It’s about eliminating any threat to their power. We’re hindering their plans."
The vice-captain was about to respond when a scream pierced the night, followed by the sound of shouting. Both men exchanged a confused glance before a knight burst into the tent, his face pale with fear.
"Sir, we’re under attack by demons!" the knight stammered, his voice trembling.
The captain and the vice-captain immediately stood, their expressions grim. The captain barked orders, "Vice-captain, protect the slaves!"
"Yes, sir!" the vice-captain responded without hesitation, bolting from the tent.
The captain grabbed his sword, unsheathing it in one swift motion. Placing a hand on the shoulder of the trembling knight, he spoke firmly, "Get yourself together. We’re knights. We survive this, and I’ll be proud of you."
The knight nodded, though his fear was still evident. "Yes, sir."
"Now, go. Deliver a message to the king. Tell him we’ve been breached by demons we thought were dead," the captain ordered.
The knight hurriedly left, and the captain thought to himself, My knights must survive this. I’m coming. With that, he exited the tent, ready to face the gruesome battle ahead.
In the dim light of the slave tent, where beastmen, humans, and children of various kinds were huddled together in fitful sleep, Raphael sat silently, his expression unreadable. The low murmurs of restless dreams were the only sounds until a distant scream pierced the night. Raphael's eyes widened slightly, and he stood up, moving towards the tent's entrance.
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Just as he was about to step outside, a deafening explosion rocked the ground, causing the entire tent to tremble violently. The sudden blast jolted everyone awake, sending them into a state of panic. Cries of fear filled the air as people scrambled to understand what was happening. Unmoved by the chaos around him, Raphael pushed through the frightened masses and exited the tent.
Outside, the scene was one of utter devastation. Demons and massive ogres had descended upon the camp, and the knights were engaged in a desperate battle. But it was clear this was a massacre, not a fight. Raphael watched as two knights fought valiantly against a towering ogre. One knight slashed at the ogre's leg, but with terrifying speed, the beast grabbed him. The other knight, seeing his comrade in danger, leaped onto the ogre's back and drove his sword deep into its flesh. But the sword became lodged, and as the knight struggled to free it, the ogre spun around, clutching the other knight in its enormous hand.
The ogre crushed the knight's body with sickening ease, blood splattering from his mangled form. The remaining knight, now on the ground, looked up in horror as his comrade's life was snuffed out. He screamed in terror, pleading for mercy, but the ogre was relentless. It smashed the knight's head underfoot, leaving nothing but a bloody smear on the earth.
Raphael stood frozen, shocked by the brutality unfolding before him. The ogre, noticing the screams from the terrified slaves behind Raphael, turned its gaze towards them and began charging. Raphael was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear, until he was suddenly shoved aside. He stumbled, looking up to see the older man who had been watching over him smiling faintly, just as the ogre crushed his back and continued its rampage.
The vice-captain appeared out of nowhere, his sword a blur as he decapitated the ogre in a single, swift motion. Blood sprayed in a slow arc, and as Raphael saw the older man's smile fade, he rushed towards the fallen body, tears streaming down his face. But before he could reach it, the young knight who had given him the two loaves earlier grabbed him, pulling him away just as a wave of fire magic roared through the air, consuming the older man's body.
Raphael struggled fiercely against the knight's grip, desperate to reach the man, but the knight held him firmly. They made their way to the vice-captain, who was organizing the surviving slaves. As they reached him, the vice-captain, noticing Raphael's struggle, asked the young knight if there were any other survivors. The knight, his face grim, shook his head, confirming that there were none. Explosions and screams echoed in the distance, heightening the tension.
Raphael's continued resistance finally wore on the vice-captain's patience. Annoyed, he struck Raphael on the head, rendering him unconscious. The young knight looked at his superior in shock, but there was no time for discussion as another knight approached with urgency, informing the vice-captain that they had gathered the remaining slaves. The vice-captain nodded, his gaze sweeping over the terrified group.
Fear was etched into their faces; adults trembling, children clinging to them, and babies wailing in confusion and terror. The vice-captain knew their priority was to protect these people. He turned to the two knights beside him, instructing them to ensure the slaves' safety. Just as he was about to address the slaves, reassuring them and urging them to follow, a voice called out from behind.
"Hello there."
They turned to see a woman standing with an eerie calmness amidst the chaos. Her green hair flowed like water, and her yellow eyes glinted with a predatory gleam. She wore a seductive outfit, which seemed entirely out of place in the battlefield. Behind her loomed fifteen massive ogres, their green skin almost glowing in the dim light.
The vice-captain's eyes narrowed as he realized the danger. Without hesitation, he ordered the two knights to get the slaves to safety, stating firmly that he would hold off the attackers. The knights obeyed, herding the frightened group away as quickly as possible.
Lilith, the green-haired woman, watched them flee with a cruel smile. "Get them," she commanded the ogres, who immediately charged after the escaping slaves.
But the vice-captain was ready. His sword ignited with a fiery red flame as he swung it in a wide arc, creating a barrier of fire that blocked the ogres' path. The flames licked at the ground, causing the ogres to hesitate, their steps faltering as they recoiled from the heat.
Lilith laughed, a chilling sound that cut through the night. "Is that all you can do?" she taunted.
The vice-captain glared at her, determination hardening his features. "You'll die by my blade," he declared.
She smirked at his words. "Oh? We'll see about that." With a snap of her fingers, the flames vanished as if they had never existed. The vice-captain's eyes widened in shock, but he had no time to react as the ogres lunged at him.
He fought bravely, dodging and weaving between their massive limbs, cutting down several with precise strikes. But there were too many. One ogre caught him by the leg as he leaped to avoid another's attack. The grip was crushing, and the vice-captain screamed in pain as the ogre slammed him into the ground.
Pinned and unable to move, he looked up at Lilith as she approached, still smiling. "What was that you said about killing me?" she mocked.
The vice-captain gritted his teeth, defiant even in the face of death. "Your end is near," he spat. "I'm not afraid of you."
Lilith's smile widened as she knelt beside him. "Perhaps," she murmured, placing her hands on either side of his head. "But your suffering will be far worse than death."
The vice-captain struggled as an unbearable pain surged through him, his life force being drained away by her touch. His body convulsed in agony, his cries filling the night. "Stop... stop... let me go... stop!" he pleaded, but there was no mercy in her eyes.
With a final, gruesome twist, his head exploded, blood spraying onto Lilith's face. The ogre released the now-headless body, letting it slump lifelessly to the ground.
"Now," Lilith said, wiping the blood from her face as she looked up at the moon with a sinister smile. "Go fetch the ones who ran away." The ogres, obedient to her command, hurried off in pursuit of the fleeing slaves. Lilith remained behind, reveling in the chaos she had unleashed, her gaze fixed on the night sky as if savoring every moment of the bloodshed.