Casper wiped soot from her eyes, smoke burning her throat as another spell matrix pulsed in her hands. The battlefield had quieted down compared to before; the soldiers had managed to kill the other trolls and the goblins were nothing more than stragglers.
But none of that mattered until the warlord was dead.
“It's losing its breath, men!” Edran barked, blood dripping down from a wound on his shoulder. One of his bracers lay broken. “We finish it and celebrate tonight. Don't let it run!!”
The warlord roared at the proclamation. Another wave of mana rolled out from it as it charged. It swung its massive axe straight at Edran with the weight of a mountain.
The captain barely dodged, rolling out of the way. Another crater formed and dust exploded as Wilson and Axel charged in from the side. The warlord saw them, swinging its axe in a circle.
They ducked, and Axel managed a slash at the warlord’s thigh, leaving shallow cuts, but the beast barely flinched. Its hand shot out, swatting him mid-stride.
Axel tumbled through the air, hitting the ground hard and sliding across the dirt, coughing blood. Wilson fared no better, aiming for the flank as the troll kicked him right in the stomach. He let out a scream and hit a boulder, potions spilling out of his belt.
Casper cursed, words spilling in a chant. She hurled a blast of flame at the warlord’s face. It reeled back, skin blistering, but its furious bellow drowned out everything.
Edran and Gregory charged in, the burly squad leader again clashing his axe with the warlord's and getting pushed back. He gritted his teeth and gave an opportunity for Edran to blur past the monster's side and hack deep into its shin.
The warlord roared and kicked, foot the size of a shield slamming into Gregory’s chest. He flew back, landing with a sickening crack. He didn’t rise.
“Gregory!” Edran shouted, jumping back to dodge another attack. Anger flashed across his features, and Casper could only hope the captain wouldn't let it get to him.
Another spell matrix formed at the tip of her fingers. It flared bright in crimson before she unleashed a small burst of flaming balls across the plains.
The warlord shielded with its axe, but they changed direction at the last minute to hit its face and shoulders. A blast rocked the place and it screamed.
It got pushed back enough for two other squad leaders to move in and slash at the back of its legs. It turned just in time, axe coming down at them. One of them lost his sword as steel cut through his arm.
The other dragged the man away, but before anyone else could charge in, another bellow of mana came out of the warlord. Heavier and far stronger.
Casper grit her teeth, struggling to keep her eyes open. She heard the shaking of the ground and looked up to see the warlord rushing right at her.
She froze momentarily, the killing intent washing over her. She raised her gloved hands, hastily building up another matrix.
Mana flowed through her veins, coming together in a flaming lance that burst out of her hands. A little weaker, but enough to give her time to run. But to her surprise, the warlord took it head on.
The lance burned through its chest, singing its hide, but its charge never stopped. Having no choice, Casper activated the enchantments built on her gloves, but a shout took her attention and she saw Edran in front of her the next second.
The warlord's axe swung downward and Edran took it head on, sword burning red hot as he screamed.
“Get out of here and burn this bastard to the ground!” he shouted, letting the axe ease past the edge of his blade before slashing across its singed chest.
Casper was already moving before the warlord could let out another flurry of strikes.
She built another set of matrices and turned to see all the squad leaders closing in on the warlord. Edran and Axel held its attention in the front as Rancour and three others attacked its side. Wilson had gotten up and he jumped right at the warlord's back, blade coming down at its spine.
The warlord howled and smashed its axe all around them. Soil exploded as they dodged the strikes while its left hand moved to drag Wilson from the back.
Casper cursed as the warlord slammed him down on the ground. Axel stepped up to drag him out, but the massive foot came down at him. A wet crunch echoed out as the man met his end.
The monster roared as if reveling in death and swung its axe in a massive arc.
“Fucking hell,” Casper swore just as the matrix reached its peak. She pushed her hand outward.
Flaming bindings burst from her hands, traveling across the grass to coil around the warlord's legs and arms. It snapped some apart even with its flesh burning, but others replaced them, wrapping tighter and tighter. But it wasn't the end.
Another matrix burned in her left hand, covering her palm. “Get out of the way!”
A large ball of flames rolled across the plains and hit the ground right in front of the warlord, just as the man jumped out of the way. It made a large crater on the ground, and the monster screamed, losing balance over the scorched earth to plummet.
The ground shook and the warlord struggled to get up.
“Kill it now!” Edran shouted out.
He leapt, sword burning with every ounce of mana left in him, and hacked into the warlord’s collarbone. The strike carved deep, bone cracking. The warlord roared, thrashing, blood spraying across Edran’s armor.
With a scream, Rancour thrust down his spear with all the strength he had left. The weapon lodged itself deep into the warlord's head. Blood sputtered out, showering the man in it as he picked it out for another strike.
Axel and others attacked the limbs. Blades slashed across the massive legs and arms, ripping apart muscle and veins. Ichor gushed out as one of them managed to sever the right limb.
The warlord screamed, thrashing and trying to pick itself up to no success.
“Finish it!” Casper’s voice cracked from the strain.
Edran raised his sword one last time. With a roar that ripped from his soul, he brought it down across the warlord’s neck.
The blade carved through the already present wounds.
The warlord’s head toppled, rolling across the ground as a pool of blood circled it. Its massive body thrashed once, then collapsed to a stillness.
Notifications flared up right in front of her, but Casper could barely focus on them. Her knees gave out before she knew it, her mana and energy drained. She coughed up blood.
By sheer will, she kept staring at the corpse of the warlord, then her eyes shifted to every alive soldier slowly forming a circle around them. A few of them supported the injured.
A brief stunned silence fell over them before cheers erupted from the soldiers. The crushing mana in the air lifted and Edran raised his sword high in the air.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The shouts intensified.
She stared back into the fallen body of the troll warlord. They had done it. After a gruesome battle where she had almost died several times, she had done it. The others had done it.
The warlord was dead and they had won the battle.
But even in the cheers for Edran, another series of shouts reached her ears. One of gravewalker.
***
Rayne slept like a baby as soon as his back hit his bed. He didn't know how long he slept, he didn't care about the pain lancing across his body. He simply knew he couldn't go on for any longer.
The fight had gone on for too long, and exhaustion had crept up once the warlord was dead. He could faintly remember hauling injured soldiers on the wagon or the trek back to the fort. Or the cheers of his name.
As soon as he entered his room, he slept. He dreamt of nothing. He simply wished to never open his eyes and bask in the peace of never-ending darkness where there were no goblins or trolls. No blades coming towards him. No blood across his body and no corpses.
Unfortunately, that sweet slumber was soon broken.
“What the bloody fuck?”
A loud thumping on his door shattered Rayne out of his sleep. He blinked his eyes, his room slowly coming into focus as the blusterous knocking on the door intensified.
“Gravewalker, you alive?”
A familiar voice came from the other side, though he couldn't put a name to it.
Rayne frowned. “Yes, what's going on?”
“Bran wanted me to let you know it's starting. You have already slept for two days. Come down or you will miss it.”
Two days? Before he could ask any questions, he heard footsteps walking away and landing on the stairs. He kept staring into the ceiling.
He had slept for two days? Something poked at him from the side, and he shifted and searched around. His fingers grabbed a health potion, an empty bottle he had drunk after the battle.
He didn't even remember who had handed it to him. Just that it had made him drowsy while stitching his body back together. He put it down on his desk before shuffling out of the bed.
Rayne would have liked to freshen up before going down. He had slept in his bloody undershirt and torn-up pants, but doubted he had so much time.
But before opening the door, he did one thing.
He opened up his status screen.
***
Status (1/3)
Name - Rayne Frayser (Human)
Age - 21
Class - Soldier
Rank - Common Soldier (Forsaken), Valeria Kingdom
Level - 21
Health - 100%
Mana - 100%
Stamina - 53%
Stats
Strength - 43
Vitality - 17
Endurance - 41
Agility - 41
Arcane - 10
Status (2/3)
Titles -
Bastard of the Fraysers
The Tortured Child
Soldier of Valeria
Survivor of the Trolls
Otherworlder
Skills -
General Skills
Valerian Language Mastery (Basic) - Level 5
Lycarian Language Mastery (Basic) - Level 2
Foraging (Basic) - Level 2
Mathematics (Basic) - Level 2
Toughened Physique (Uncommon) - Level 2
Footwork (Basic) - Level 3
Unarmed Mastery (Basic) - Level 2
Pain Tolerance (Uncommon) - Level 3
Class Skills (2/10)
Sword Mastery (Basic) - Level 2
Formation Knowledge (Basic) - Level 1
Unique Skills (4/10)
Skill Stealer (???) - Max
Goblin Tongue (Uncommon) - Level 1
Umbral Sight (Uncommon) - Level 1
Lesser Regeneration (Rare) - Level 1
***
Rayne had gained four levels out of the battle aside from the [Lesser Regeneration] skill he had been looking for. [Pain Tolerance] had also risen up a level, probably due to all the beating he had taken.
He had wondered why the skills he had been stealing were termed as unique, but he guessed it was due to the fact he was getting them from monsters, and they weren't regular skills for humans.
He also knew that there were limited spots for them and wondered if he was fixed for life with these skills or could change them later on, but it wasn't a topic he wanted to brood on today.
His head still felt a little light. The potion and his skill had fixed his body, but even after sleeping for two days, his energy levels weren't at their peak.
Rayne closed off his status, stretched and opened the door into the hallway. The tower was empty as he descended the stairs as if everyone had deserted, but when he had come out of it and stepped into the streets, he saw soldiers walking silently.
A few of them looked and pointed at him as he made his way to the centre of Fort Algar. But none struck a conversation.
The atmosphere felt too sombre for one. Even the sky was filled with grey clouds as if it was going to rain.
By the time he reached the centre, the soldiers were already gathered. Every man that could walk was here, standing in rows and circles. Rayne's eyes searched for his party members as he stepped across the circle.
He found them out at the front and slowly made his way through the crowd. A few men opened their mouths in a scowl, but stopped once they saw his face. He ignored it and when he reached the front right beside his party, he paused.
At the centre lay the bodies—lined in neat order on wood, wrapped in cloth, their armour placed on top of their chest. Some were covered entirely, the wounds too terrible to leave exposed.
He recognised a few faces he had fought with, the majority were a blur. Still, he hoped they would get a better life next time. He knew there was one due to his own experiences.
By the side, he saw Edran, Casper, Axel and a few other squad leaders standing. A man in dark robes with white lines going through it stood in front of them, chanting something under his breath. His memories labelled him as the Priest of Hathras, the god of death.
When the priest finally stepped forward, the hush deepened.
“We all know why we are gathered today. These brave men gave their lives for the greatest cause there can be. Protecting someone else. And they died protecting the kingdom,” he spoke, voice oddly calm. “The light of Hathras had already taken their souls to where they belong, getting them ready for another birth in the cosmos. But it was our duty as mortals to make sure their bodies can't be tainted and corrupted.”
Rayne saw several bowing at the words. The priest nodded at Edran who stepped forward, a torch held in his palm.
He lowered it. Flames touched the pyres. Fire spread slowly at first, then roared as the dry wood caught. Heat rolled over the fort, washing against the gathered soldiers. The smell of burning cloth and flesh soon followed. Some men wept openly, some stood stiff and silent, others bowed their heads in quiet prayer.
“Pretty hard sight, isn't it?” Bran's voice took his attention. Rayne turned towards him, his face lit up by the light of flames. He stood a little stiff. “I almost thought you would miss it.”
“I got up on time due to the man you sent,” he replied, gaze alternating between the burning pyres and Bran. “How's everyone?”
“Injured and tired. Both physically and mentally. Potions could do only so much,” he replied. “But you did well. Killed the most number of trolls.”
Rayne sighed. “I don't know. People still died.”
He turned his gaze back to smoke drifting out in the sky, meeting the clouds. There was a good chance someone he knew well would be burned just like this in the future. Or even he might be.
“Soldiers die all the time. You know that. The army gets new recruits because the previous new ones are dead. There's no rest with dungeons, monsters and countless other threats roaming in the world. Don't think too much about it. They choose this life. At least some did, and they knew what they were signing up for.”
Bran patted his shoulder. He turned to face him, seeing Kesh, Nate, and the others behind.
“We are going to go celebrate the victory with everyone,” Bran said, making his focus back. “The cooks had prepared a lot of chicken, rice and bread for us. It's tradition to eat a healthy meal after the funeral. Don't miss it. We will keep a seat for you.”
As Rayne nodded, Bran and the others made their way back through the crowd. Kesh gave him a small hug with tears before he followed the others.
Once they were gone, Rayne turned his attention back to the pyres. He wondered what they saw last before all of them died. Probably the face of an ugly goblin or a charging troll with an axe. He winced at his memories, and suddenly, a thought struck his mind.
The goblins had planned the ambush before, but why had they simply charged to their death in the plains? And where had the goblins and trolls found all those weapons?
No answer came to his mind even as he turned back heading for the celebrations.
***
