CRUNCH.
Bones shattered under the weight of iron-clad boots.
War cries followed—raw, desperate—and then the clash of steel against claw.
The battlefield was a mire of blood and shattered armor. Knights lay broken beside the beasts they'd slain, their corpses tangled in mud and viscera. The air stank of iron, rot, and smoke.
And yet—despite the horror—the knights of kaladale held the line.
Monsters loomed in the mist, massive shapes that shook the ground with every step. Shield walls trembled. Blades rose again and again, dragging crimson arcs through the haze. Mud churned beneath greaves as the last remnants of a kingdom made their final stand.
The once-proud army had fractured into three scattered legions. Commanders shouted into the din, but their voices were swallowed by the roar of monsters and the ring of steel. Formations broke. Orders vanished. Discipline bled out onto the ground.
They had held this pass through fire, fang, and famine. But now?
Now the tide had become a flood.
Towering brutes crashed against their lines—walls that had once stood firm for weeks now cracked within minutes. Every advance cost them dearly. Every retreat left another brother behind.
And at the eye of this storm, a knight stood alone.
His armor was battered, his blade soaked in black. He said nothing. He only breathed—and waited.
He drove his sword through the monster's chest and ripped it free with a wet snarl.
Gasping for breath, the knight staggered a step back, blood coating his gauntlets, his chest heaving beneath dented armor. He turned, scanning the battlefield through the smoke and chaos.
Bodies littered the ground in every direction—some beast, most human. The mud was slick with crimson, and the stench of death clung to everything.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
In that fleeting moment of stillness, his gaze drifted to the walls of kaladale.
They were losing.
The guards atop the battlements had been overrun. Some still fought, desperately, blades flashing—but more were falling with every second
The knight grimaced, forcing a bitter smile.
"Should've joined the Forge Sentries…"
A distant shout snapped his attention westward.
Through the haze and carnage, he spotted the captain. The man's once-gilded armor was now caked with mud and cracked open in places, but he fought like a storm—holding the western flank alone, giving the wall precious seconds to recover.
But even the captain was only human.
A dozen claws struck at once. His blade deflected two. A third slashed across his chest.
Then, from behind the line, a voice thundered:
"KNIGHTS!"
"THE CAPTAIN HAS HELD THE WAVE!"
"ALL FORWARD!"
"REACH THE CAPTAIN!"
The battered legion roared to life. Shields lifted. Blades rose. And the charge began.
"What?!"
"No!"
A dozen voices cried out as one—but it was too late. The captain was surrounded.
If he wants to die, let him die a hero!
The thought burned through the knight's mind—but his body moved on its own.
Steel in hand, breath ragged, he surged forward—just behind the cohort leader.
"Damn it!"
"Damn it!"
"Damn it!"
The words pounded in his head with every step.
I didn't sign up for this… I just wanted to impress that knight-lady at the festival… not die in this madness…
Tears blurred his vision—but his arms didn't falter. They moved on instinct, slicing down anything in his path. A blur of fang and blood, horn and hide. He was no longer a boy playing at war. He was the scythe in Death's hand—and every stroke cut a path through hell.
Together with the cohort leader, he carved through the swarm. When they reached the captain, it was through a trail slick with monster blood.
The captain still stood—somehow—bracing against the endless tide. His armor cracked, blade chipped, one arm hanging useless at his side. But he did not fall.
In any other war, the enemy would have broken by now. The sheer force of will from the defenders would've shattered their morale.
But monsters have no morale. No fear. No reason.
Their motives were still unknown, but their hunger was absolute.
They were concentrating now—swarming toward the captain like predators scenting weakness. The assault on other fronts slowed. For a moment, the eastern and southern walls breathed freely.
But the western front was buckling.
The line couldn't hold much longer.
And so, the legion commanders issued a single order—one final push:
It didn't take long for the split legions to reach the edge of the western field.
But something was wrong.
No one else seemed to notice it—but the knight did.
The cohort leader ahead of him began to slow. Subtle at first, then visibly dragging his steps.
Why is he slowing down? The question barely flickered through the knight's mind before something else hit him like a spear to the chest.
Wait. Where are the monsters.
They had been fighting their way through hordes the entire march west—reinforcing the front lines, rotating exhausted troops, cutting down flankers. But now?
Now the battlefield was too quiet.
The eastern and central fronts, which had been echoing with screams moments ago, had gone still.
Too still.
Then—from the corner of his eye—he saw the captain.
Frantic. Waving both arms, shouting, his voice swallowed by distance and wind. His mouth moved fast, his gestures sharper now, desperate.
Fall back? No—warn them. He's trying to warn them.
But the realization came too late.
The earth beneath their feet groaned—then split.
With a thunderous crack, the ground erupted in a spray of soil and bone.
Monsters poured from the chasm like a tidal wave of nightmares. Hulking things that stank of rot and burned iron. Their claws shimmered in the torchlight. Their mouths opened far too wide.
And they fell upon the legions.
Screams rang out—cut short by wet crunches. Blood sprayed in arcs. Limbs torn free. Faces devoured.
The knight stumbled back, eyes wide, breath lost.
All around him, his brethren were ripped apart—sliced in half, dragged screaming into the pit, their bodies chewed before they even hit the ground.
Then came the roar.
A sound that shook bone and soul alike.
And the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed everything as he fell.