I have fought many times against many things. I have killed men and monsters, knights and mages. I have led warbands of desperate soldiers and participated in mass mobilizations organized by great generals. All those experiences didn’t prepare me for this.
Gerard shifted slightly to the left, allowing his opponent to overcommit to the strike, which he brutally punished. He didn’t even bother looking at the man fall, pushing forward to engage a knight who was somehow being held back by the efforts of two Apprentice soldiers.
While he knew that his men were of a higher quality than most of Hetnia’s troops, even at parity of Blessing, there should still have been a significant difference between them and a Knight. Most believed that ratio to be five to one, but Gerard knew it was closer to seven to one, as the average soldier wouldn’t hold long after seeing their companions cut in two by a greatsword.
What was happening all over the battlefield should have been impossible. The elites of the 104th, who had been sent forward alongside the tanks, were struggling to face the common soldiers of the 105th. They hadn’t made any progress in pushing forward, and this was considering that the best of Alpar’s defenders still hadn’t made contact with the enemy.
Gerard wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had doubted the Grand Marshal when he proposed allowing the ordinary troops to receive the initial charge, as he had seen too many men sent to their deaths by incompetent commanders with dreams of grandeur. Still, looking at the battlefield, he had to reconsider. It seemed like the Hero knew what he was talking about.
Whatever buff he had applied to the defenders was a light-sent miracle. It might even be a literal one, considering who I’m talking about here. If anyone can wield Holy power to grant a Blessing, it is him.
It was an absurd thought, one that Gerard knew very well was impossible. If a single man had the ability to grant a Blessing, they would become a god… And yet, it wouldn’t leave his mind.
image [https://i.postimg.cc/tJ1D5zLC/persimmon0-burly-knight-in-full-platemail-softly-glowing-with-w-84b4557d-a377-4c91-a774-3ef38440368e.png]
He kicked the harried knight back, allowing the two soldiers to spread out and help others, before bringing his sword down in a heavy blow; the man barely managed to deflect it.
Even his own strength was far above what he was used to. Gerard knew he was a powerful man but also knew his limits very well. He wasn’t using any enhancing skill, having long learned to pace himself in battle, and yet he was cutting through dangerous opponents like a farmer in a wheat field.
Even this knight couldn’t do much beyond shout his curses and backpedal as Gerard pressed his advantage. His feet always found sure ground, and his eyes didn’t miss any movement. Feints didn’t work; everything happened precisely as he had visualized it.
Things went exactly as they should to ensure their victory. He brought down his sword again, and this time, he broke through the man’s guard, ending his life in a spray of blood.
Looking ahead, Gerard noticed the enemy line was beginning to bend inwards. It didn’t take much to realize that someone, possibly the Hero himself, had started pushing back. Knowing how powerful he was thanks to a spar they had soon after the man arrived in Alpar, Gerard put his safety out of his mind. No one in the 104th could harm that man.
Moving around, he sought to break up fights where his men were being overwhelmed, as should be the case in a regular battle, but it simply didn’t happen. Every strike that should have injured them was avoided with the ease of a veteran dancing around a novice. Every attack of theirs was conducted with a fluidity that didn’t belong.
I need to stop trying to fit this battle into what I know. The Hero told me I’d need to stay flexible, and he was right. If he’s pushing forward, I’ll do the same.
It wasn’t easy for him to leave his men behind, having spent years during the Incursion carefully protecting their lives, as more soldiers weren’t coming to relieve them. But he still did it, trusting in the queer magic to hold. As things stood, he was wasted in the backlines.
With a prodigious leap over an earthen wall, Gerard reached where the fighting was the thickest. The narrow space between the fortifications they had built didn’t allow many to pass, thus allowing the defenders to swarm those few who tried to open a breach. It was an intelligent stratagem, showing that the Hero didn’t put all his hopes into his buff seeing them through the day.
Pushing through the throngs of soldiers, Gerard finally entered the open field, where the bulk of the enemy army was. Ahead of him, he saw Sir Gareth fighting against two enemy knights at the same time, but he didn’t seem to require help as he danced around them, leading the two experienced fighters by their noses.
Flashes of light reflected off the disgraced warrior’s blade as it struck out repeatedly, snapping like a snake and punishing any mistake. Gerard could see Sir Gareth enjoying himself, a feral grin painted on his features. It distorted his expression, ruining the pretty face many a maiden had swooned for, but it somehow looked more right than his usual frown.
He avoided interfering, knowing instinctually that it wasn’t his place to do so.
Beyond them was who he was looking for. The enemy commander and his fellow Captain, Vettel, was fighting against three soldiers and pushing them back. Around him, bodies were strewn, showing that even the incredible power the Hero had granted his men had its limits.
Somehow, rather than scaring Gerard, this made his heart lighter. He didn’t relish the death of his fellows, but knowing he wasn’t dealing with an actual god was relieving.
Pushing those considerations aside for the moment, he closed the distance in three long steps, the wind blowing at his sides. Gerard intercepted a blow that would have decapitated one of his men with his sword, using the other to grab onto the soldier and throw him back, signaling for the other two to retreat.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Vettel!” he greeted, bringing his weapon forward in an opening stance.
“Dortmund! What kind of witchery have you sold yourself for? Have you fallen so low?!” His opponent screamed, eyes darting across the battlefield as he beheld the same thing Gerard had observed.
Even without the powerhouses taking the field, Alpar’s defenders would win the day if things continued as they were. He couldn’t see the Hero from where he was, but he doubted the man was lazing about, which meant the eastern flank should be wrapping things up soon.
“No witchery unless you count Holy Magic among the forbidden arts.” He replied with a hint of humor. Despite everything, he slightly regretted that he wouldn’t be able to duel Captain Vettel fairly, as the unnatural strength bestowed upon him by the Hero showed no sign of waning.
Still, he would do his duty. A moment of stillness followed his words as the two Captains took the measure of each other. They both knew each other in passing, being roughly the same age and holding the same position in nearby towns, but they had never clashed blades before. Gerard hadn’t even seen Vettel fight during the Incursion, as the man stayed in his town and only occasionally led an assault. Nevertheless, he knew from reliable sources that Vettel was a skilled swordsman, so he wouldn’t underestimate him, enhancements or not.
He took a deep breath, and they were off.
With a snarl of defiance, Vettel lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air in a swift, elegant arc aimed at Gerard's side. The blade, imbued with the sheen of a [Decapitating Strike], promised a deadly bite, but Gerard was buoyed by uncanny strength and met the attack head-on. His sword, a broad, heavy blade that thrummed with more mana than he had ever infused it with, clashed against Vettel's with a deafening clang that sent sparks flying.
Again, the enemy commander tried to press forward, [Decapitating Strike] licking out with great accuracy. Again, it was stopped without even the need for Gerard to call upon a skill of his own.
Each blow from Vettel was swift and precise, aimed with the expertise of a great swordsman. Yet, for all his talent, he found himself increasingly on the back foot as Gerard pressed the advantage, his enhanced strength turning each defensive parry into an arduous task.
Vettel's frustration boiled over into rage as he found his usual finesse and swordplay insufficient against the raw power facing him. "Curse you, Dortmund! What devil have you sold your soul to?" he spat, attempting a risky feint followed by a [Ghost Slash], a maneuver designed to outpace and outmaneuver a slower foe that was taught to anyone who reached the Third Blessing in the Royal Army.
But Gerard, reading the deceit with unnatural clarity, sidestepped and countered with a [Heavy Smash]. It was the first skill he called upon that day, and the effects were brutal. Usually, it was just a skill that combined brute force with a crushing overhead swing; it was considered too slow to truly threaten an experienced fighter.
Vettel barely managed to raise his sword in time. The impact drove him to one knee as the ground beneath his feet cracked from the force.
Around them, a crowd of soldiers had formed. Attackers and defenders eyed each other warily, but somehow, they all knew the results of this duel were much more important than any fight they might have among each other.
Gerard was relentless and seemed like a figure from legend; each attack he delivered was more forceful and determined than the last.
Vettel, evidently sensing the tide turning irreversibly against him, called upon his last reserves of strength and mana, activating what Gerard recognized as [Swordmaster's Grace], a high-level skill that enhanced his speed and agility to supernatural levels but took a significant toll. For a moment, he became a blur, his blade dancing around Gerard in a desperate flurry of strikes aiming to find a chink in the Captain's armor.
Rather than retreating as expected, Gerard calmly called upon [Bastion's Resolve], a defensive skill that made him nearly impervious to the onslaught, his form steady as a rock amidst the storm of steel. Each of Vettel's strikes only met the unyielding force of his defense. He wouldn’t have dared to use it in normal circumstances, as the cost was too great, but now he could.
With things clearly skewed in Gerard's favor, the duel reached its climax as Vettel pushed beyond his limits and made one final, desperate charge. His sword licked out, trying to catch him by surprise, but he was punished for it.
A gasp left the spectators as Gerard’s heavy greatsword cleaved cleanly through Vettel’s right arm, sending it and the sword it held clattering to the ground.
The man shouted in shock and pain, dropping to his knees and clutching at his stump with desperation. Even his powerful enchanted steel armor hadn’t been enough to protect him from Gerard’s attack.
That was the last straw, as the attacking force lost its collective will. Already, Gerard could see dozens of men fleeing towards the Darkwood from the eastern flank and knew the Grand Marshal had achieved his own victory.
“Charge them down!” He yelled, even as he moved to grab his opponent and drag him away from the thick of the fighting. Personally, he wouldn’t mind if the man died, but he was sure Lady Amelia would have words for him if he allowed such a valuable source of information to slip from their fingers.
As he walked back, he saw soldiers celebrating, others running towards the retreating enemy with glee, and even more groaning on the ground, though there were almost no dying ones.
Finally, he came across an even stranger sight. A group of enemy soldiers were kneeling, bearing the standard on the 104th. They showed no sign of aggression, which made Gerard blink in confusion.
The cause of this was quickly revealed as the Hero walked over to them; in his resplendent armor, bearing a holy sword at his side and his figure glowing with warm Light; it seemed that the men had seen no other recourse than to throw themselves at his mercy.