A hundred gazes were thrown towards the sky. Reality seemed to break for a short while as the sky turned from grey to a sparkling white, and their eyes fluttered with the same energy that the falling snow gave off. Most of the soldiers on the wall had never seen such beauty, but those who had come from faraway were just as baffled by the unexpected occurrence. Smiles were painted on many faces, perhaps believing it to be a signal that the goddess favored them, and gave them a beautiful landscape to admire and recover their strength.
It started like a soft drizzle of snow, recomforting to see from high above; an entertaining show for the soldiers and nothing more. However, just an hour into the drizzle, the head mage of the city announced that it would continue for several hours. The uncertainty of a snowy morning turned the stomach of the soldiers into a mess, a mix of anxiety and expectation that grew as the night crept in and the snow accumulated on the field.
Bill and the rest of the soldiers focused on shoving the snow down the wall, while the gatemen kept the doors open for the field army to check the terrain before setting their camp. Scouts were the first to set out, not only to check the field, but also the first few yards of the forest from where their enemies came from. They checked thoroughly, but snow covered most tracks, and even their trained senses could not feel the aura of any living being around them. As they returned from their uneventful scout, they failed to notice the dozens of hidden eyes staring at them from the trees.
The brigadier general received the report with skepticism, but regardless, sent a fistful of squads to clean the snow in a wide area. Wanting to avoid the waste of any resources, the respective corporals built small walls of snow beyond the gathering point as the others set their camp, lighting up fireplaces around the area. Visibility was becoming more of an issue as the minutes passed, but the light of the bonfires would at least guide the soldiers in the cold nocture blizzard.
Once the place had a solid enough defense, the brigadier general returned to the safety of the walls with several people walking behind him. It seemed like he had passed the responsibility to the few men he had left behind.
Bill could not see the face of the man as he trekked the slope and walked through the gates, but he could see the uniforms and armor on the men behind him. They were all knighted, or at least the majority of them were. Officials of high rank, no doubt, that should be allocated on the battlefield for supervision. Had the plan changed because of the snowfall? Bill couldn't help but think that those in the higher ranks were not taking the situation seriously.
The night grew darker and colder, seeping through the chain mail worn by the soldiers who were used to the heat of Goldblack. Bill stood up to watch the fields in front, but the campfires were still just the same, and no bells had been rung. After every squad returned to their tents there was no more noise, and no strange shadows could be seen from far away. Having a few archers beside him eased his anxiety, since their eyes would be better than his. If he missed something, they wouldn't.
Thinking back to the officers retiring from the camp, some form of anxiety still lurked inside his chest. To begin with, the number of soldiers that had been displayed was smaller than announced. The camp was set up quickly and with the excellence expected of trained soldiers, so he could not doubt the veracity of them. Everything proceeded as taught by the drill sergeants. So why did it feel so off?
"Strange..." An archer murmured by his side.
"What is?" He turned his head.
"Over there." The man pointed at the west side of the wall with his finger. "Can you see it? It's some of our soldiers. They're turning around the wall."
"Did they receive orders to abandon camp?"
"It's a small number... I don't think there's any reason to do that. Maybe they're returning for supplies. Hope they sent scouts, it's dangerous work for a storm."
"Hm." Bill nodded reluctantly, unsure of what to answer. His unease only grew larger.
Soon after, no remarkable movements or events could be spotted. Bill laid against the cold stone while observing the distant fires dancing calmly, uneventful, peaceful. He didn't need to know the plans of the commanders, after all, he was nothing but a pawn in a rowdy game of war. Keeping his head down low was what he was best at.
He quickly fell asleep on the merlon, but a tap on the shoulder woke him up fully alert. He looked at the archer on his side, who signaled at the camp.
"Can you go down and take a look? It's 'round three in the morning, but I haven't seen anyone go piss yet."
"Ah... Sure." Bill bitterly smiled as he detached himself from the wall. Regrettably, he couldn't say no to the task. It was the reason he was appointed to the watch, after all.
The gatemen opened the door just enough for one person to pass sideways, enough for the slim Bill to go across without much effort, careful not to get his chainmail trapped in the wood. The gates closed behind him with a thump, and the young man sighed with a bad feeling in his heart without feeling the dozens of red gazed looking at him from all around.
He walked while being careful of his steps, a torch on his hand, his shoulders covered with snow. Tents and campfires could be seen from afar, slightly dimmed by the falling skies, which turned the prairie and the adjacent forest into a closed dome bordered by the lack of light. His steps guided him each time closer to the campfires while his boots marked the ground, perhaps each time more irregular like his heartbeat. Now that he had closed upon the camp and the lack of movement became clearer, he couldn't help but swallow dry.
He drew his sword and placed the torch closer to his uniform than his face, then proceeded into the settlement. The first tent he checked reeked of blood, that much he could tell from afar. Immediately he thought of backing up and calling for the officers, but an indescribable mix of foolish hope, morbidity and curiosity told him to push forward. Slowly, and carefully, he extended his aura as much as he could, trying to find a presence inside the tent. He knew his lack of skill would return nothing, even if there was someone inside, but he wanted to dream of it.
With a dry gulp and trembling hands, the young man raised the cloth covering the front of the tent with the broad of his sword, pointing it inwards. His eyes couldn't see, but his nose was alerting him, sending signals all throughout his body like stings of a wasp. Distinguishing shapes was too hard. But he wanted to know what lurked inside. He hoped to see a sleeping soldier, but he knew it wouldn't be the case. Against his own common sense, he pushed his other arm forward, litting up the darkness of the raised tent, turning it bright like the day.
Then he felt his dinner coming back into his mouth.
"Urgh!"
He threw up on the spot and let go of his torch, backing up several feet as he tried not to trip with his own shadow. He touched the side of a log and toppled, falling on his back with a thud.
"Fuck!" He yelled as he cleaned his mouth somewhat, trying to stand up. "Fuck this!"
The dregs of a man were all that remained inside the tent. Parts that could be named were spread neatly and arranged around the cover, but whatever was left of it could not be called a human any longer. It was a head surrounded by bits of what had been once human, wrapped in the skin that had been meticulously taken off the corpse, decorated by the viscera that at some point belonged to it.
Bill stood up and checked another tent, just to find a similar spectacle. The next one beside that one had the same odd feeling, but he wouldn't dare check. He fled the scene while grasping his heart and heaving heavily, signaling the gatemen to open the doors as soon as they could. When he arrived he missed the red, shifting eyes, and bolted directly inside the city.
"What happened?!" The chief of the guard quickly asked him before letting him stop to take a breath.
"They're all dead!"
"All of them?"
"I— I think so, I wouldn't know! I checked and it was all fucked up! They made some gross ass tribal art with them or something! Guts all over the place, beheaded, they're dead!"
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"Damn." The chief clicked his tongue. "How did we not see any movement? Even with the storm they should have been clearly visible against the white ground, damn it."
"I think we've got to check for survivors..." Bill proposed with a trembling voice.
"I'll go fetch the officers." The chief nodded heavily. "Return to your post soldier."
"Y, yes!"
Bill hastily returned to his spot beside the archers, who looked at him with stranged faces. He didn't even explain a thing and simply laid against the wall, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking rapidly as if trying to fling the images out of his head.
Faraway on the western side of the forest, a battalion moved quickly through the trees, their faces hidden in the raging snowfall. Between them many were knighted. Others were squires with shields on their backs, ready for battle, and many more were capable soldiers that had left the ranks of the conscripts long ago to become part of Pontya's main force.
Although heading directly into the enemy camp was usually a bad move, they had been instructed by Miel himself to move during the night making use of the storm, and attack their enemy as they slept. In front of the battalion, an arrange of spies guided the way, soldiers trained by Petyo himself, who had discovered the enemy camp long ago.
Their coats danced in the air as they trailed through the forest, their swords drawn and their goal ahead. Excitement could be seen in the grinning expectancy of their faces, hoping to shed blood that night without the remorse that usually accompanied taking a human life. Confidence in their plates and heavy shields pushed them forward, and their swords ached to stab at the flesh of monsters they hadn't had the chance to encounter. Some of the present forces had crossed blades with them on the past battle, and although the fear of their unpierceable skin remained, the mages at the center of their formation gave them the courage to press on.
"Ah!"
Someone suddenly slipped, falling down to their knees. It was a young boy of roughly fifteen years of age, a squire to the higher knights on their horses.
"Gather yerself kid. The snow's slippery, mind your feet." One of the soldiers said as he passed by him.
"Yes..." The young man lowered his head as a bow, but before he could manage to stand up, he felt the ground tremble below him.
"Eh?"
His sudden gasp of surprise called the attention of the people surrounding him, and then, screeches coming from the center of the formation broke the sudden silence. The mages had lowered their heads as if terrified, grasping their temples with an aggressive fear. Everyone entered an immediate state of alarm, shifting in their spot to try to locate the silent enemy.
"Stick close!"
"Don't move ahead, everyone stay calm!"
The horses neighed and kicked their legs back, hitting the people behind them. The ground trembled more violently, shaking people out of their stance, throwing soldiers to the ground, until finally, the earth erupted.
Boom!
With a thunderous sound, mounds of soil the size of a wall suddenly broke from the back of the formation, unearthing trees and throwing them against the soldiers. The dirt accumulated around the soldiers to create formations that entrapped them and divided the battalion, breaking the lines and squads with the falling trees.
"What was that?!"
"Buargh!"
One of the mages suddenly threw up on the ground.
"Is it magic?!"
"What kind of monsters could have summoned such a spell?!"
"It...!" One of the mages yelled with a scratchy voice. "Three...! Three spell activations, at least of the fourth tier!"
"What?!"
The officers yelled at the top of their lungs. Their mages could cast a first-tier spell at most and would have to recharge for several hours afterwards, but somehow they had been attacked by three fourth-tier spells, which could only be used by the Chorus of the capital?
The storm didn't stop raging amidst the confusion. Squads had been disbanded and soldiers had been lost out of sight. The light of the torches only created a deeper fear and enrooted the confusion they felt in their hearts, trying to battle an enemy that could have already killed them if so desired.
A knight stepped in front of the mess and yelled at the battalion to stay calm. The soldiers ran towards the same spot guiding themselves by the potent voice of the knight, until finally, little over four hundred men and women had reunited in the center.
"Don't fear!" He shouted. "Raise your shields and polearms, put the mages in the center, place yourselves in a porcupine formation!"
The man was doing his best to keep the soldiers together and ready for battle, but as he was finishing his instructions, a sudden pressure there everyone's morale to the ground. Those who could feel auras paled immediately and their knees faltered, while the few blessed who couldn't simply observed, living the terror through other people's skin.
Everyone turned to the origin of the presence to find a glimmering crimson fire a few meters away from them. Engulfed in it was a short man whose face could barely be seen through the snow, supporting his hands on a curved sword that buried itself on the ground.
"The man that General Miel told us about..." The knight swallowed dry.
"Hmph." A scoff could be heard coming from the man's mouth. "You misjudged attacking us in the forest. It only took me a moment of focus. I could feel you from a mile away." The man unburied the sword and slowly walked up to the soldiers, every step of his creating a small quake in their hearts. "Miel has tricked me enough for me to think better of him. He should know that without his petty gimmicks he simply can't win against me."
He stopped, and put the sword on his shoulder. A woman of similar proportions slowly walked up to his side while rotating her shoulders, holding a scimitar in her hand.
"Hufff." She sighed while cracking her neck. "Man, I'm dry... Fuck fourth-tier spells. And multicasting. It makes me feel dizzy..."
No one on the other side was willing to accept that the short girl that looked like a simple commoner could have been the caster of those spells.
"Step to the front." The man suddenly declared. "Whoever is the leader, I don't care. Be quick and step to the front. I want to be well-rested for tomorrow."
Everyone's eyes were set on the knight that had corraled them before, as if trying to avoid any sense of responsibility. The man trembled for a second and looked with eyes of betrayal at the people he had made an effort to save before, and were now stabbing him in the back. The pressure he was feeling from them was even bigger than the one he felt from the man in front, a pressure that, looking back, he had felt throughout his entire life as a lower noble. In every meeting, in every party, it was there, present as a stinging knife.
He resigned himself and called for his squire, who handed him a polearm and a heavy shield.
"I... I am Sir Guilton. I was born in Goldblack, a knight that has seen countless battles in front of his eyes, and served General Miel even in his first prowesses! I've crossed weapons with a great many enemies before, and I shall not fall in front of one so meek as you! I take pride in my skill!" He shouted. "Fight me like a man, one on one, and I'll demonstrate what the knights of Kulkus, what the knights of Goldblack are all made of!"
"Hmm." The man lowered his blade. Pensive, he looked back, and murmured something to his companion. At that moment, none of them could have heard what they spoke of. Only the two of them knew.
"These people all have families." Thom whispered. "Stories. Dreams, things to hold on to."
"I know." Suu nodded with eyes closed and a smile.
"My goal is to become a king. You know it is. And for that goal, I will have to kill them. I will ask of you to do the same when I need to."
"I know." The girl nodded.
"Suu..." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Would you call yourself a friend even if I do such a thing?"
"Hmph." She raised her face with a pout and looked at him. "I think you know that. I'm here with you, man. Don't worry about it."
"Good." Thom smiled.
The knight observed as Thom took a step forward, pointing his sword at him. "My name is Thom. I come from a place which's name I already forgot. Nice to meet you."
As soon as his words fell his body accelerated forward with terrifying momentum, sending snow flying through the scene as he appeared in front of the knight and prepared to slash away at his armor—
Clank!
Thom's blade impacted against the shield and bounced off, but it was only half a second until he slashed back at the knight, the sword now coated in a thick layer of aura that cut through the shield like butter and headed towards the man's neck.
A splattering sound could be heard as the knight was relieved of his head and it flew up into the air, together with the pieces of the broken scimitar. Thom used the falling body as support to jump upwards, extending tendrils of aura that stole the sword from the corpse's waist and flew directly to his hand.
"Ha!"
A crimson half-moon broke the night as it pulsated forward with terrifying speed, flying towards the soldiers who were still trying to comprehend in what moment had the knight lost his head. A slash of aura clashed against the bodies of the unknowing soldiers, who died on the spot as their heads and necks were cut through.
"Flee!"
Someone managed to shout, but it was too late. The other girl had already closed up on the sea of soldiers and was hastily cutting necks and stealing swords to continue the massacre, as the man jumped on thin air and fell in the middle of the fleeting men. Suddenly, out of the shadows emerged dozens of black-skinned monsters that attacked the humans trying to escape, cornered them into a circle, and began tearing at them with claws and fangs that ripped through the unprotected skin of many of them.
The knights, who trusted their armors so dearly, no longer felt safe in their plate. As they saw hundreds of men being corraled by monsters and humans pierce through their steel, they felt intense fear, as if the metal on their bodies was an impediment to escape, rather than something that would assure their survival. Some of them hurriedly tried to take it off, but the hands of Thom got to them first, and his blade pierced their armor directly into their hearts.
What kind of defeat was this? Usually prisoners would be taken, or soldiers would escape after a bad confrontation. Many knew only of battles that ended with a few casualties and the enemy retiring, or their own party returning to their camps. They knew of wars won by sabotaging, of burning warehouses and captured generals, but what was this?
They knew for once what it was like to fight monsters. Their last thoughts were not of the brutality of the monsters that ripped their guts out of their bodies while still alive, but of how tame humans were in comparison. Then they saw those two. The monsters inside the bodies of humans. For once, a battalion of Pontya knew what those words meant. Total annihilation.