Flames consumed the battlefield, smoke curling upward in thick, choking plumes as the ground shook beneath the thunder of boots.
Hundreds of men, swords glinting in the firelight and weapons raised high, stormed toward another group of Soldiers. Though smaller in number, this second group stood unmoving in tight formation, their lines unbroken, waiting with unnerving patience for the chaos to reach them.
The men charging were nothing alike in appearance. They weren't clad in a single uniform but in mismatched armor, dented breastplates, rusted helmets, torn leather straps, and scraps of chainmail scavenged from fallen foes. Some bore shields painted with faded symbols, others gripped axes nicked and scarred from countless clashes.
It would be better to call them Mercenaries than soldiers — men who would swing steel for coin, loyalty bound only to gold.
They were hired by a War General, thrown into this conflict not out of honor but for pay, ordered to crush another equally ruthless band of Mercenaries waiting on the other side.
Among them, a strange mix — some wide-eyed and trembling, fighting their first true battle, others scarred veterans who had spilled blood in countless wars. But in the end, none of it mattered.
They all surged forward with desperate resolve, because behind them there was nothing worth clinging to — no home, no future, no escape from the life they'd chosen.
Then, without warning, their charge carried them over a patch of ground that seemed no different from the rest — until the earth roared beneath them.
Boooom!
A massive explosion erupted from the soil, flames and shards of rock tearing skyward. The blast swallowed men whole, obliterating all who stood in its fiery radius.
Screams were drowned out in the thunderous roar as bodies were hurled into the air, torn apart in an instant. The battlefield shook as if the world itself had turned against them.
" A land mine!" one shouted, his voice cracking in terror as blood and body parts rained down around them, thudding wetly against the scorched earth.
Most vomited at the sight, collapsing to their knees as bile mixed with dust and ash, while others fought desperately to hold back the urge, gagging and trembling. The stench of burnt flesh clung to the air, choking them with every breath.
" Who was in charge of checking the area!" another roared, his voice sharp with both fury and fear.
" He was part of the ones that just died!" one exclaimed, his words breaking, the horror of it sinking in.
" Oh Aureliah, have mercy on our souls..." another dropped his weapon and clasped his bloodstained hands together, praying shakily as explosions echoed across the field.
Right in the middle of the chaos, a man with black hair stood watching carefully. His dark gear was dusted with ash, and his brown eyes were sharp, scanning every detail. His beard was unkempt, a shadow of weariness and grit across his jaw, and in his right hand he held his sword with the ease of someone long used to its weight. His name was Kaelen.
' This feels odd. Didn't Commander Edward send his own personal men to check the area? I know he's no saint, but he wouldn't throw us away like that,' Kaelen thought grimly as he tightened his grip on the blade and pushed himself to run ahead.
The battle raged on, the screams of the dying filling the air as they pressed forward. None dared to stop, because looking back now was hopeless — death waited there just as surely as it did ahead.
Boom *
The ground erupted again, many more land mines detonating beneath the charge. Men were torn apart, flung into the air in fiery bursts, but this time they did not stop. Blood splattered across their armor, limbs scattered underfoot, yet desperation carried them onward. Ahead, the enemy line grew closer, and those waiting raised weapons in anticipation.
Finally, the two forces collided.
Swords clashed with swords, steel shrieking as sparks burst from each brutal collision. The air was filled with the crash of metal, the cries of rage, and the heavy stench of blood as the soldiers met in savage combat.
Kaelen ran forward, his boots thudding against blood-soaked earth as he lunged at the first enemy. His blade flashed, stabbing deep into the man's chest. With a sharp twist, he raised his arm just in time to deflect a descending sword, the strike glancing harmlessly off the steel plate strapped to his wrist. In a single fluid motion, Kaelen drove his sword upward, burying it through the man's throat. The mercenary gurgled, blood spurting as he collapsed lifelessly at Kaelen's feet.
He wasted no time. Kaelen surged ahead, his dark figure cutting through the chaos like a storm. His sword slashed down across the back of a distracted soldier locked in combat with another from their group, splitting flesh and bone as the man crumpled to the ground, dead before his body even realized it.
Blood rained across the battlefield, spraying in heavy arcs with every swing of a weapon. Screams, the clash of steel, and the dull thud of collapsing bodies merged into a deafening symphony of war. The battle had truly begun.
Not far behind, a figure sat tall atop a black horse, overlooking the carnage. His expression was calm, almost pleased, as if the massacre before him was little more than sport. Around him, a contingent of warriors clad in polished silver armor stood ready, their long spears catching the firelight as they glimmered with menace. Power radiated from them, their presence alone enough to unnerve lesser men.
The man on the horse smirked, eyes narrowing with cruel satisfaction. ' Yes… cut down the lines. Break them. Only a few minutes left before we unleash our new weapon,' he thought, lips curling into a darker grin.
Down in the heart of the chaos, Kaelen pressed forward. His strikes were precise, merciless — every swing of his sword claimed another life. Men fell one after another, their blood splattering across his dark armor. Most heavily stained were his boots, now slick and nearly drenched in the crimson remains of those he had slaughtered.
For a brief moment, Kaelen paused, his chest rising and falling heavily as he surveyed the carnage. Around him, his allies hacked down the enemy's numbers, yet his eyes locked forward on a single figure. From the opposite line, another mercenary turned to face him. Unlike the others, this one wore a full suit of silver armor, his presence radiating malice. Death burned in his eyes.
Before Kaelen could advance, one of his own men lunged in for the kill — but it was over in an instant. The silver warrior's massive battle axe swung in a deadly arc, cleaving through the man's neck cleanly. Blood sprayed into the air as the body fell, head rolling lifelessly across the ground.
Kaelen tightened his grip on his sword, his breathing heavy.
' A challenge, huh? I didn't think I'd need to use Mana in this battle… I should've saved more last night,' he thought with a dry, almost bitter chuckle.
He blinked, and when his eyes opened again, they burned with a bright, unnatural blue glow.
Power surged within him — his muscles tensed, his breath steadied, and every part of his body felt sharper, stronger, faster.
With renewed vigor, Kaelen sprinted forward, his boots pounding across corpses and shattered weapons.
He collided with the silver warrior, their weapons crashing together with a thunderous impact.
*Clink *
The force of their clash sent both staggering back, dust and sparks bursting into the air. But neither gave ground for long.
Kaelen roared and stepped in again, swinging down with all his strength. The silver warrior raised his axe to block, and their blades clashed once more, the sound ringing across the battlefield.
This time, Kaelen's strength surged beyond the man's. His sword crashed against the axe with overwhelming force, knocking it from his opponent's hands and sending it clattering across the bloodied ground.
Kaelen wasted no time — with brutal precision, he pulled back and drove his blade deep into the man's chest.
Steel ripped through armor, flesh, and bone. Kaelen twisted the sword, the silver warrior choking as blood filled his lungs. Slowly, he collapsed, his eyes dimming as death claimed him.
Kaelen stepped back, yanking his blade free before letting it fall from his grasp. He stood over the dying man, chest heaving, his breath heavy and ragged.
His eyes, still glowing faintly blue, watched without emotion as the warrior's life slipped away.
' I'm sure one of those knights back there could have killed everyone here without breaking a sweat,' Kaelen thought, his gaze shifting toward the distant rider on horseback and the armored soldiers that flanked him. Their silver armor gleamed with power, their presence alone radiating an aura far beyond anything the mercenaries could hope to match.
' Edward… it makes no sense why he hired mercenaries instead of just using his men. The mercenary group we're fighting — the Nighthawks — they have numbers, yes, but they lack quality. Just five of his knights could have cut them all down without even breaking formation.' His thoughts churned bitterly, suspicion gnawing at the edges of his mind.
Then, without warning, the man on the horse tugged at his reins. His steed shifted, powerful legs kicking up dust as it turned sharply before galloping away. The knights that surrounded him did not move at first — they stood in eerie stillness, spears glinting under the fading light — and then, as if swallowed by air itself, they vanished without a trace.
' Where are they headed?' Kaelen wondered, unease tightening in his chest.
It was then the world itself seemed to shift. A shadow rippled across the field as the sky darkened unnaturally. Gasps and shouts echoed from both sides as every eye turned upward.
Above them, several massive magical circles materialized, one atop another, layered and rotating with burning glyphs. Their glow pulsed ominously, casting a crimson hue over the battlefield. The hum of arcane energy filled the air, vibrating in Kaelen's bones, a warning of death unlike anything he had ever faced.
His eyes widened in shock, every instinct screaming to move — but it was too late.
A colossal beam of fire tore down from the heavens, its roar louder than thunder, brighter than the sun.
Boooom *
The blast consumed everything. Men screamed, but their voices were cut short as flesh, steel, and earth alike were incinerated in an instant. The ground split apart, molten rock exploding outward as the explosion devoured the battlefield whole. The force flattened everything in its path, leaving behind nothing but silence, smoke, and a massive crater where thousands of lives had once stood.
That was the end of beginning. Of the Tale Of The Returning Warrior.
TO BE CONTINUED