Because the assault had been so sudden, the four-thousand strong Lysene army was caught somewhat unprepared. They had not been expecting for another couple of hours and were caught with their pants down.
Their reaction time was slow, and they were unable to take advantage of the disorganization in the enemy ranks as Slyvia and her men descended from the gangplanks.
Thanks to the brutal training they had endured for the past few months, Lord Aeos' army was able to organize its formation in mere moments, forming a defensive line while simultaneously setting up offensive tactics. Their eyes had already taken into account the positions and the locations on the ports they had to secure to gain complete control and dominance of the port.
Sylvia was standing at the front leading her men when the first of the Lysene soldiers came into her sight. They were being led by a massive, bulky man wielding a greatsword. She also spotted a couple of Magisters at the back of the incoming ranks. Their faces were pale and their bodies filled with fright.
The Lysene men were clearly well trained and well armed and equipped, but they were still lacking as a unit. Their inexperience in working and mobilizing as a single unit was showing.
Their organization and formation were deficient. Sylvia very easily spotted a few weak points in their lines. With every step they were taking while running to attack, their defensive line was fracturing further.
Their leader, who should have been concerned with maintaining the formation, was the biggest culprit. He was running several steps ahead of everyone else, his blazing eyes fixed solely on Sylvia.
Sylvia could understand their actions to an extent. For weeks, the Lysene army had prepared themselves to fight against overwhelming odds. They would have been mentally preparing themselves to fight against a much larger army.
They would have been depressed and frustrated about participating in a battle that almost guaranteed their deaths.
But now, the situation had suddenly flipped. It was they who held the numerical advantage. They numbered four thousand, while the enemy was five hundred fewer. All their pent up frustration came bubbling to the surface, and in that surge of emotion, they were losing their rationale. So too was their leader.
Seeing the small framed, seemingly weak Sylvia in front of him, his eyes lit up with predatory intent.
He, most probably, wanted the glory of killing Lord Aeos's General in a single strike. Or perhaps, he hoped that by killing her, he would send shockwaves through the enemy ranks and cower them, providing his own men with a great psychological boost. But no matter what calculations he had made, they were all useless.
The bulky man finally reached Sylvia. His greatsword was raised high in the air as if he intended to cleave the General in two. He let out a loud, booming grunt as he charged, leaving his body wide open to Sylvia. He brought his sword down with a force that seemed to split the air.
But just as he expected his blade to meet the soft resistance of flesh, Sylvia sidestepped, and his sword passed harmlessly close to her body.
The heavy momentum of his frame should have carried him forward, but before he could even comprehend what had happened, he felt a stinging, cold sensation passing through his neck and throat. He tilted his eyes downward, only to find a spear piercing his throat, likely emerging from the back of his head.
Then he felt it again, his head was moving upward, high into the air. His eyes were filled with horror as he saw his own headless torso tumbling forward with the momentum of his charge.
A single thought crossed his mind at that moment. If a spear had pierced his throat, a sword could not have decapitated him. The spear would have obstructed it.
Then, the realization hit him. Sylvia had beheaded him first and was now using her spear to hoist his head high in the air. He had not even caught her moving. He had not seen anything.
With his last remaining spark of consciousness, he tried to look at the face of the woman who had overwhelmed him with such ease. He met her eyes, which were as calm as ever. One final thought crossed his mind. If this lady was leading the charge, they were doomed. The Magisters of Lys were doomed.
The battlefield was plunged into a frightening silence. The charging Lysene army suddenly halted, while Sylvia's own men looked on with their mouths agape. They had known that Sylvia was monstrously strong and skilled enough to deal with the leader with ease, but they had not expected this.
One moment, the man was bringing his sword down to cleave her. For a brief second, worry had crept into the hearts of her soldiers while triumph surged within the Lysene army. But from a distance, they saw it all. Very clearly.
She moved but barely. She shifted just enough for the sword to pass without touching her. One look and everyone knew it was not luck, but pure skill.
In that same moment, her right hand moved to her waist, unsheathing her sword. In one swift, fluid motion, the blade flashed and cleaved the man's neck with utter ease. But that was not all.
Her sword had barely emerged from the other side of the man's neck when her left hand struck. The spear it held penetrated the throat of the beheaded man, hoisting his head high into the air for everyone to see.
The gurgling blood from the decapitated head flowed down her arm, staining her, while the man's body tumbled forward a few steps before collapsing onto its knees. Little did they know at that moment that, compared to the ocean of blood she was about to shed, this amount was minuscule.
The battlefield was brought to a standstill. The Lysene army was paralyzed with shock, and as they stared at Sylvia's face, they could see only hell reflected there.
"Attack," Sylvia barely mumbled. It was a mere whisper, yet everyone heard it. Loud and Clear.
With the head still fixed upon her spear, she sprinted forward, her eyes narrowed and fixed on her enemies. Her men reacted a moment late, but a loud chorus erupted from their throats before they, too, followed her lead and joined the charge.
It was going to be utter carnage, and Sylvia was destined to be the perpetrator.
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