This time, they came with shields raised instead of charging in.

  Marching until reaching just shy of seeing a face well.

  “Well well! What do we got here eh? A whole ready for the cullin!”

  Right now they are sending only infantry.

  A sort of preliminary.

  Or rather a scouting party due to it’s size?

  Some may ask, did you just skip the instigating moment?

  Nuh uh.

  Right now as they slowly get closer, around a third are behind me.

  The elites of the elites!

  Well that’s because they have numero two of Dèdance. How creative!

  Line two has around half or so of numero dos, and line tree still has lockflint.

  Purely because ten thousand is still ten thousand. One third is like, three-three-zero-zero. That takes time.

  Somewhat close to that?

  “The honors are yours!”

  Adrian nodded.

  Somehow I’m stuck next to this man.

  Oh fiddlesticks.

  “Third line forward!”

  Y’know despite the situation you can fit three rows of goobers on one wall.

  …I’m not sure how they actually did this.

  “Fire!”

  The cacophony of combustion became a melody for a few seconds. Followed by yelling below.

  Anywho, the reason for line three first is to lull them into thinking it’s that one than the other.

  Line one and two don’t really work for this so we’ll just throw 'em to the dogs.

  “Oh, they’re goin away.”

  “Shields are useless even with armor…”

  Wait, didn't I show this? Before??

  This guy was actually thinking with his brunette ahhh hair and blue eyes.

  Pretty sure scarecrow bob was missing his head for a week.

  O dullahan.

  Dullahania!

  I dunno I forgot the line.

  Oh the grass is now red again.

  “Hey.”

  “Hm?”

  “Wanna try somethin?”

  Earlier in the day, a detachment went out.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The results were anything but pleasant.

  Of the five hundred, less than a hundred returned.

  From here a roar echoed and plumes of smoke rose.

  The objective was achieved but the losses were a severe case of mismanagement.

  Though in total number of soldiers it barely raised the tipping point.

  Still they learned one thing.

  Piercing metal.

  Something the opposition is using to knock men out of the fight easily.

  Something that takes life in a snap.

  However it may be, they must take this city by the end of tomorrow.

  For both face and to reach their goal.

  If the first force had fifteen thousand, then double that. With some reserves it will fall.

  The legion commander’s eyelids drooped with fatigue. The onset of the offensive slowly blurring in his mind.

  Briefly closing his eyes, the shrouding black shut out the dim light. Silent wind beating the ground.

  Faint trembling before a complete snag of sleep.

  In this black there was nothing. Only rest.

  A small rest fit for the soul that teeters ever forward with each day. Each night to coming closer to it.

  “Fire! There's a fire!”

  The legion commander's eyes snapped open. The scent of ash viscerally close.

  Quickly exiting his tent, the blazing orange spoke of it’s volume. Spreading volatilely to everything.

  A breath told the state of the shredded air.

  “Water! Where's the water?!”

  Troops woke up and hastily moved to put it out.

  The legion commander blankly gazed at it before regaining his senses.

  A fire in this place is nearly impossible due to discipline. Though it can still happen.

  But it was fixed on the wall.

  Nowhere was a torch knocked over.

  Just then, a red point went through the fire. Slowly carving through the burning wood. Red crystallization searing the fire that consumed.

  Then it stopped.

  The soldiers didn’t notice it.

  It tilted and fell on those trying to throw water on it.

  “My leg! My leg! Ah! Ah!! AHHHH!!!!”

  “I can’t–!”

  Smothering everything nearby in smoke.

  “Whew.”

  Stepping forward was a man.

  A murky dark blue pants that were strange. Stepping forward as if nothing happened with stranger shoes.

  “Yo.”

  The man twirled the entirely red sword emitting a freezing chill so overpowering the heat was suffocated entirely by it.

  The man patted his white shirt. The man's hollow eyes with an emotion the legion commander could not say was.

  …Incessant.

  The shadows of the dark hair and nonchalant expression failed to hide it.

  Raising the blade towards them, the man gave a light smile.

  A sound so loud, the legion commander couldn’t tell if it was from the man or something else.

  Pain filtered jutted back into the legion commander's system. A darkening red once he looked down.

  “Adieu.”

  The man twirled the red sword onto his shoulder.

  Weakening, the legion commander took one look at the man.

  Disappearing in the shadows of the night.

  The man dressed in strange clothing.

  Especially the gray overall.

  But there was little time to think of that.

  Screams dulled the legion commander's hearing.

  Feeling left him right as sleep returned.

  Deepening with each second.

  Until falling like those around.

  “Damn…”

  Slowly withering.

  “Where…!”

  “Get… now!”

  “....need assi…. ...e..!”

  “C…….a…e..r!”

  “The Su……! W……s the …….on!!”

  Gritting his teeth to forcefully keep it at bay, sounds drowning in each other.

  It was sticky.

  His breath labored and painful. Unbelievably.

  Thoughts converging on the instinct of an animal, holding on to it dearly.

  Cupping his fists to keep his upper body from completely touching the ground, shaking.

  Hands he could not feel grasping him.

  Lifting him up. Letting him see everything. The dark sky slowly brightened once more. Consciousness dimming.