Battle Cry

Chief Allen rode with haste at the front of the cavalry unit of 25 Knights and 300 of his own personal soldiers, Valblin by his side. They sped through a deserted battlefield lined with bodies, following the sounds of battle to the eastern shores.

“There is the final battlefield of the night,” Allen said, gazing downhill at an expansive beach where tens of thousands of men clashed under the scattered moonlight shining through the dome.

“As expected, it seems Al and Hydrick are pushing the retreating enemy into Faron’s army,” Valblin said, combing his beard with his hand. “Have you spotted Samuel’s headquarters yet?”

“It’s exactly where it should be,” Allen answered, focused on the path ahead.

Valblin flashed a grin, shifting his gaze toward the Faron army’s left flank. “Well then, shall we greet the dignified General Shuant?”

On the outskirts of the battlefield, Al and Jack led their forces, combined with Hydrick’s, into the edge of the Faron army.

“Al, Shuant has disappeared amidst Faron’s men,” Jack shouted as he fought through the frontlines.

“It doesn’t matter,” Al responded, cleaving into the lines with his curved blade. “We need to keep this up if we want to hold Shuant in check. We’re about to be pincered by Pursia behind us, but Hyd should be right behind him to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Why not regroup with Hydrick and move to Samuel’s headquarters?” Jack asked, pressing on.

“Like I said, if we let off for a second, that man will make us pay,” Al responded, gaining momentum inside the enemy’s lines. “He’s just absorbed reinforcements by fleeing into a fresh army. It’s only a matter of time before that cunning man turns his gaze back toward us.”

As he spoke, the lines they were fighting through began to open up, a stampede of cavalry rumbling toward them from deep within.

“You see?” Al said, pressing on. “Either that Shuant is really hellbent on killing Hyd and me, or he’s had something else planned all along.”

“Well, setting that ‘something else’ aside, it looks like we are indeed being pincered,” Jack declared, looking back at the pressured lines behind them.

“Hyd will take care of Pursia,” Al remarked with a confident, intense grin. “Besides, the ‘something else’ should be right behind them to tip the scales.”

In the next moment, Al’s pursuing attack caved in on either side, but he and Jack continued to fight their way forward until the man they sought appeared in the congested battlefield.

“There he is!” Jack exclaimed, pointing his blade in the direction of the red-clad man.

They fought their way toward Shuant, who seemed focused on leading his men in a straight line through Al’s group, increasing their speed rather than baring down for the clash.

“Al, something’s happening behind us!” Jack cried out.

“Press on!” Al shouted in response. “We’ll stop him right here!”

Al allowed some fifty men to take the lead ahead of them as the collision drew near. Shuant’s reinvigorated attack unit ran into Al’s severely thinned group, splitting them in half with little resistance. Al and Jack attempted to cut into the group once they reached them, but the heavy cavalry adorned in golden armor served as a strong barrier around Shuant.

Al was only able to clash blades with Shuant in passing, but his powerful attack that barely reached the man was nonetheless successful in slowing the stampeding group.

The flood of horses forced Al and his men to scatter to regroup. Instead of retreating, however, Al gazed over to the destination of Shuant’s attack.

Beyond the scattered lines he’d led, Hydrick and Persia’s groups were tangled up in a struggle, vying for mastery of the chaos.

Shuant’s focus, however, lay beyond them. Cutting through the chaotic group, he sustained heavy losses, but his core group of fifteen shield-bearing cavalrymen remained strong. Hydrick managed to break away from Pursia’s men and threw himself at Shuant with fire in his eyes, but he was shaken off as easily as Al had been. As he staggered to the side, Shuant’s attack reached an opening in the battlefield. On the other side of the opening, a large old man appeared, leading a group of green-caped Knights into the thick of the battlefield.

Shuant accelerated away from his group, focused solely on the old man, who brandished a large golden glaive that doubled the density of his red spear.

All eyes were on the two as their horses stamped toward each other as if a supernatural force had pulled them together. Their faces bore an eerie calm as they struck down, spear and glaive whipping toward each other at wide angles of their seemingly effortless swings.

A sharp clang sounded as the tips of the blades met, which caused an inexplicable silence, like the air itself was frozen by the clash. The stifled air then blasted through the battlefield as the blades bounced away from each other, a tempest of dust and wind reverberating from the two men and booming outward throughout the battlefield.