The ninth day began with the blast of a horn from the wall guards. Repairs were still halfway done, catapults had battered the city walls into something closer to rubble than fortification. Every able-bodied soldier scrambled out, rallying to the open field.
When I looked to the horizon, my stomach knotted. Dozens of flags snapped in the wind, and beneath them stretched a vast line of soldiers, at least six thousand. They weren't moving, just standing there, waiting for us to make the first mistake.
I raised my voice. "Prepare yourselves, men!"
The army roared in response, banging swords against shields in unison. A raw "awoo! awoo! awoo!" rolled across our ranks like thunder. The sheer noise made even me grin, and from the way the enemy line shifted uneasily, I knew their morale had taken a hit.
Then came movement. A single rider broke off, a white flag in hand. I mounted my horse and trotted forward to meet him halfway.
He stopped a few paces from me, lowering his hood. He was young, sharp-featured, and held himself with too much confidence to be a mere messenger.
"I am Prince Ludfrick, heir to the Kingdom of Aldun," he said smoothly. "I ask that you surrender, lest needless blood be spilled."
I shifted in the saddle, resting my hand on my sword hilt. "I am Count Adam, commander of Elren's armies. And I ask you to turn your men around, lest the ground they stand on drink their blood."
His brows rose in faint amusement. "By the looks of it, we outnumber you, Count. What makes you think you'll win against the great armies of Aldun?"
I smirked. "We have God on our side."
The prince laughed, loud, mocking, hollow. "We had that two hundred years ago as well. Some of us have… outgrown our little delusions."
The way he said it, I almost pitied him. Almost.
"Then it seems you've brought your men here to die," I said. "I don't know how you think this ends, but it won't end well for you."
His smirk returned, sharp as a knife. "It ends with my victory."
I leaned forward slightly. "Then we're agreed, Prince Ludfrick. That field over there is about to become famous."
We exchanged one final look before I wheeled my horse around and rode back.
I reorganized the army quickly. Paladins and I in the front, regular soldiers in the rear. A reversed-V formation, shields interlocked, designed to funnel the enemy into us and break them like water on stone.
The prince was still riding back and forth in front of his men, trying to rouse them with speeches, no doubt. Finally, he raised his sword, and six thousand men charged.
I raised mine. "Forward!"
The ground shook under the thunder of hooves and boots. Paladins surged with me, our shields glowing with divine essence. When the lines collided, it was like a hammer hitting glass. Their front ranks crumpled under our charge, shields shattering, men tumbling.
The paladins and I slammed into them, divine light bursting like a shockwave. Swords tore through mail. Spears broke against our shields. We cut them down without slowing, the formation breaking before us like wheat under a scythe.
By the time the rest of our army closed in behind us, the slaughter was already underway. The enemy's cries filled the field, steel on steel, men screaming for mothers or gods they had forsaken long ago.
When I spotted the prince and his guards fleeing the chaos, I pointed after him, but my men were already cheering. The enemy line had broken. Aldun's proud army was nothing but a red stain on the grass.
I dismounted, walking among the fallen. Some were still alive, groaning, clutching open wounds. I knelt beside one, placed a hand on his chest, and ended his suffering with a pulse of light. My soldiers watched me do it, then joined in finishing the work with grim efficiency.
After tending to our own wounded, healing what I could, offering words to the rest, we marched for Aldun's capital.
The city met us not with battle, but with smoke. Black plumes rose into the sky, and people were pouring out, screaming, clutching children or bundles of meager belongings.
"The idiot is burning the city," I muttered under my breath.
"What do we do, commander?" a paladin asked, his face grim beneath his helm.
"They're burning it because they've no army left. A distraction, nothing more. Let them run. We save the city."
I raised my hand, thinking furiously. Fire. How do you fight fire without rivers or rain? Then I noticed it again, the swirl of tiny lights around me, the particles I'd glimpsed before. Blue, green, red, purple…
I focused on the blue. Water equals blue. Blue is good. Blue is water.
I forced the thought into them, over and over. At first nothing happened. Then suddenly, water spilled into existence before me, floating like a growing sphere.
"It worked!" I shouted, half-laughing, startling the paladins around me.
Their shock mirrored my own, but there was no time. I gathered more of the blue, more water, more weight. Riding forward with the orb at my side, I unleashed it over the burning quarter. Steam exploded into the air, smoke choking out as flames hissed and died.
The paladins moved in behind me, smashing doors, pulling people from houses, dousing sparks. The work was brutal, but by the end of the day, the city still stood. Only a few central buildings would need repairs.
The people crept back into the streets cautiously, eyes wary. They had expected massacre, pillaging, cruelty. Instead, they found us pulling them from fires, handing out bread, healing the wounded. Their confusion would take time to turn into trust.
Later, while occupying the castle, a soldier came running down the hall toward me, bloody and out of breath.
"Lord Smith!" he shouted.
I frowned. "What's going on?"
"The men… they've found a strange creature under the palace."
"Strange?" I raised a brow. "Lead me there."
We descended the stone staircase, the sound of our boots echoing in the dark. At the end was a door, slightly ajar, shouts coming from within.
I pushed it open. The stench hit me first, rot, iron, something fouler. Then I saw it.
A writhing mass of flesh, grotesque and wet, pulsing like a beating heart. Faces slid across its surface, some crying, some laughing, some twisted in eternal screams.
A soldier loosed an arrow. It sank into the flesh uselessly. "Lord Smith, this abomination's already killed two paladins!"
I drew my sword, channeling essence into the blade. Light flared along the edge, sharp enough to hum in the air. The thing lashed out with three tendrils, but they broke against the shield of essence I conjured.
I slashed downward, carving a deep wound. Golden-red ichor gushed out, hissing where it touched stone. My heart hammered against my ribs, some primal part of me screaming to run, but I forced myself forward. Slash after slash, the thing shuddered and shrieked.
Finally, I split it down the center. The two halves writhed a moment longer, then slumped into stillness, blood pooling foul and thick.
I stood over it, chest heaving, disgust crawling up my throat. My human side wanted nothing more than to burn it and leave. But the god inside me… wanted to know what it was. To study it. To claim it.
With a grimace, I bottled some of its blood. "Of course," I muttered. "Follow the rules of horror movies, collect the creepy fluid. What could possibly go wrong, right?"
I left the rest where it lay. Even gods had limits to how much filth they could stomach.