The two armies collided with the fury of two gods, the sound of steel crashing against steel filled the air, mingling with guttural war cries and screaming, thousands of boots churning the earth below.
As soon as the fighting began, my mind snapped into calm, the fight absorbing my focus completely.
An enemy soldier lunged forward in a sharp spear thrust. I parried it to the side, then with a sharp motion I grabbed the shaft of the spear yanking it towards me.
The rebel stumbled forward, off balance. I took advantage immediately, my sword swinging in a farewell salute as I cleaned through his upper torso, his hot lifeblood decorating my armour.
Another soldier charged thrusting with a blind desperation rather than skill, his eyes closed as he did so.
The weapon failed to penetrate my armour, but the force made me grunt in pain.
Snarling I advanced, overwhelming him with a flurry of strikes, beating down on him until he crumbled under the pressure .
'Amateurs.'
My placed pierced his stomach, and his guts followed my blade as I pulled it out of him.
I moved past, ignoring the way the man screamed, trying to stuff his guts back into his body.
Minutes bled into hours.
I fought like a machine, every movement purposeful. Every strike was calculated for survival or murder..
Slash, parry, block. Move. Stab. That became my rhythm, I moved to its tune in a bloody dance.
The screams blurred together, the faces of the dying becoming indistinct.
However, soon I slowed. I began taking more hits as my arms responded more sluggishly.
I trembled, fighting the exhaustion that had set in.
I wasn't a good swordsman. Far from it. I had won mainly because of composure, taking advantage of my experience.
Yet now, I was receiving hits.
I managed to defend against the major hits, protecting myself barely, yet I was starting to accumulate many smaller strikes.
My armour became increasingly worn and damaged, as it took the brunt of blows I was failing to block.
Stepping forward into range, I was about to strike but my foot slipped on a corpse.
The world spun and before I knew it, I crashed to the floor.
'Shit!'
A soldier darted forward, trying to spear me to the floor. His spear began to glow with mana and he thrust down with an almost inhuman speed.
I rolled to the side just about in time, and kicked at the side of his legs. Then I rolled to my kicking him hard in the head.
He managed to recover. His body began glowing with a faint white light.
'He can use mana…well fuck'
I stood warily.
The soldier charged in, his body moving faster than it should've. I ducked under the blow, slicing just above his knees.
His momentum knocked me over, causing me to fall heavily again onto the floor.
Instantly I scrambled back to my feet.
Reclaiming my sword, I rushed to stab him, interrupting his pleas as my blade ran him through.
With a morbid interest, I watched as the light slowly dimmed from his eyes, becoming unseeing.
He hadn't been a MageKnight. If he had been a fully educated MageKnight I would've been dead. He was just someone smart enough to figure out a few tricks for himself.
'I wonder how strong you would've become if I hadn't killed you.' To be able to teach yourself mana was…difficult to say the least.
Pulling out the sword, my breath ragged, I took a moment to observe my surroundings.
Around me fire roared, the earth trembled as MageKnights clashed, waves of power being released. Around them, ordinary men were burnt to a crisp, or buried, or flung like ragdolls.
I took a deep breath, giving myself a moment to compose myself.
Then I turned away from the nightmarish scene, sword raised in the grip of two trembling arms.