Kharveth led from the front, his stride unhurried as he advanced ahead of his forces. At his side walked Slakerm, the drakorath flexing his blood-red wrist blades in and out with sharp, wet clicks, testing their balance as if impatient for the coming slaughter. When the demons drew close to the coliseum, they halted as one, their advance stopped by what waited before the entrance.
Dozens of men and women stood in formation, the city guard packed tight with halberds leveled and firearms raised. Their expressions were a brittle mix of fear and resolve, knuckles white around weapon grips. Ahead of them stood three figures, clearly set apart. One was Prince Mark, encased in his G.E.A.R., the armor visibly battered, scoring and damage marring its once-pristine surface. The firearms integrated into his forearms were already deployed, angled forward and ready. Beside him stood another warrior in full plate armor, helm absent, Calvinel gripping his greatsword so tightly his gauntlets creaked. And at the center, positioned a step ahead of the others and mirroring Kharveth's own leading posture, stood the Guard Commander. He was older, his stance grounded and steady, a chainsaw-sword held in his right hand and a pistol in his left.
They were the three military figures still able to properly fight, prepared to meet the Knight Commander and his forces with their own strength and command. But the moment Kharveth came fully into view, a chill rippled through the defenders. Prince Mark's breathing grew heavy inside his helmet, sweat running down his brow. *That man looks like a monster… no, he looks like a man born to fight,* he thought, unable to tear his eyes away. Calvinel swallowed hard, his mouth dry. *Seeing him makes me want to kneel. Goddess, what a way to make me feel inadequate as a knight.* He felt sweat bead beneath his armor as well.
The other demons barely registered in the guards' minds. It was Kharveth alone who drew their focus, who consumed their fear. The guards who had moments ago looked frightened yet resolute now appeared only afraid, their will visibly draining under the sheer presence of the Knight Commander.
All except one.
The Guard Commander stepped forward, placing himself further ahead than anyone else. Heads turned toward him instantly.
"Commander."
"What is he doing?"
"Look at him, he does not even look scared."
"Is he even human?"
The whispers spread through the ranks as the demons shifted restlessly. Slakerm fully extended his blades, muscles tensing as he prepared to charge, but Kharveth raised a single hand, signaling him to stop without looking away. His gaze remained locked on the Guard Commander, who drew in a deep breath and then turned to face everyone.
"I know what you all might be thinking—about this situation, about me, about whether this is where you die, about whether you can stand up to that being in front of us," the Guard Commander began, his voice steady despite the weight behind his words. His eyes moved across the ranks, meeting faces one by one. "So let me tell you what I think about all of it."
He took a slow breath. "You are right. The situation is dire. The enemy is at the gates—no, they are a foot away from our inner sanctum. One step away from going inside and slaughtering everyone we hold dear. And you are right that some of us—most of us—maybe even all of us—are about to die." His grip tightened slightly on his chainsaw-sword. "You are afraid. And you should not be ashamed of that. It is only natural."
He paused, then continued, voice firm but unpretentious. "And before any of you think that I am not afraid—that I show no fear while you all are trembling—let me make this clear. I am afraid. I have been since the beginning of the invasion." He holstered his pistol and raised his empty hand. It trembled, only slightly, but visibly. "I am simply an old man who knows how to hide his fears better than most. Who can steady shaking hands better than most. But know this—I am afraid."
His hand lowered. "I am not above any of you in anything but rank. I am a human—nay, a person—just as you all are. I have simply lived long enough to know that… I am ready to face my death, even with the fear I carry." His gaze softened. "But if any of you are not willing to do that, it is fine. Neither I nor anyone here will resent you. If you wish to go back into the arena and look upon the faces of your families instead of fighting and possibly dying here, then go. No one will stop you."
He turned back toward Kharveth and the demons beyond him. "I will remain here. Alone, if I must. I will hold them back long enough for you to be with those you love. So… who wants to go back?"
Silence followed. Not broken by a roar or a cry, but by the heavy, rhythmic thud of a halberd butt striking stone.
Then another.
And another.
One by one, the brittle formation tightened. Gaps closed. Guards stepped closer together. Firearms that had been dipping toward the ground were leveled again, iron sights raised, eyes narrowed with grim resolve. No one moved toward the arena.
Inside his helmet, Prince Mark's breathing slowed. The HUD of his G.E.A.R. flickered, the Guard Commander's image briefly reflecting across it. Seeing that shaking hand did more for him than any bravado ever could. He adjusted his stance, planting his feet more firmly as he brought his guns to bear.
Beside him, Calvinel let out a dry, jagged laugh—the sound of a man who had already accepted his own funeral. He raised his greatsword, the tip no longer wavering. "Some torchbearer I am," he muttered with a shaky smirk, "letting someone else lead the way."
"A fine speech, Guard Commander," Prince Mark said, voice steadier now. "Better than I could have said."
The Guard Commander did not reply. His gaze never left Kharveth.
The Knight Commander stared back. Slowly, the skull of the hellbeast mounted on his shoulder began to glow, red light filling its empty eye sockets. In his right hand, bone and demonic energy coalesced, shaping themselves into a massive greatsword—jagged, pale, and brutal in form, its edges uneven as if carved from the remains of something ancient and violent.
Kharveth exhaled. He raised the sword one-handed toward the Guard Commander and signed, "I respect you."
Though the Guard Commander did not understand demonic sign language, he understood the meaning well enough. He lifted his chainsaw-sword in return.
For a brief moment, the two commanders acknowledged one another.
Then the Guard Commander shouted, "For Arcadicia and its people! Attack!"
He surged forward, the guards charging behind him with halberds leveled and firearms raised. Prince Mark ignited his thrusters and flew upward. Calvinel broke into a run, armor clashing as he closed the distance. Dozens of guards followed, boots pounding stone.
Kharveth swung his sword in a single, commanding motion. Slakerm answered with a roar as he and the demons charged, the ground shaking beneath their advance. And at the center of it all, the Knight Commander himself drove forward to meet the Guard Commander head-on.
The final fight for Arcadicia had begun.