Several sounds of boots opening the grasses as they marched further...
Their steps, inaudible, their backs hunched above the spiked bushes, night breeze securing their exposure, the smell of bronze, the movement of hand signals, their heated breaths...
Amidst them all, he was trapped!
Cowering amongst mighty men and their heated deep hunk scents.
Their glistening orbs focused on the outskirts, seeking, waiting for a signal, hunting for a smell...
And in that moment, when the loud cry of the warbird filled the paramount, their anticipating orbs snapped. Their muscled physiques tightened. Their swords cried for blood, swinging in the direction of mindless beasts rising above heights itself, their roars fueling the Battle of the night;
The battle of giants, where untold and unforeseen fates united to birth forth the odd stench of warm blood spills.
"CHARGE!!"
"YAH!!!"
His brothers charged forward, feeding their hungry swords, digging into mighty fleshes, tearing out the hearts of the scavengers... bathing in the blood of their enemies. They fought for victory, they fought for the weak, they fought for justice... and him?
... He fought for his life.
Behind this humongous physique of their monstrous sizes stood the tiniest man in the midst of giants.
A man his size, even if doubled, would never meet up the height of one of his soldiers, but still, amongst these mighty men, he farmed bravery, effortlessly feared by all.
Why, you ask?
Well, because this tiny man was not just any man, no.
Yes, he looked so little and powerless... And well, quite out of place if you look at it. But if one took a closer look, there was something about him...
... A certain aura he carried.
That spine-chilling look of dread in his eyes... The calm yet calculative stance he possessed.
Even a fool would take a cautious step back upon taking a glance.
A man this small, yet one swift movement of his sword capable of sending tens of heads rolling on the battlefield unremorsefully with an unfazed death-shot glare.
On his command, giants kneel.
They say behind great warriors was a fearless captain, the one who led them.
Well, as the saying goes, it applied to these mighty men. Behind these giants stood the source of their strength, the one behind their fearlessness.
The one who had led them to countless unfathomable victories and had presented the heads of their enemies right on their palms miraculously. The one and only commander, General Valentine Raynolds.
Valentine was the only son of the only dragon seer, a descendant of the most powerful warlocks, hailing from the bloodline of the seekers. The first ones who carried the curse of the beast.
Seekers were the ones who discovered the powers of the draçon and all the mysterious things its blood could do. They were filled with greed, and in course of trying to hunt the mythical being, they were cursed by this creature with powers ten times the strength of an average human.
In doing so, instead of this creature being hunted, people began to capture the ones cursed by the draçon because of their gifts... Or rather, their curse.
Several countries even formed armies of them, training them to defend their lands and people.
They had been the protectors of humanity in the early days when giant ichneumons and mindless beasts sought the lives of humans. Even when dungeons first emerged, they were sent to battles beforehand.
And victoriously, Valentine had carried his lineage. The fierce protector of Astheimoth.
Every other seeker who had stood to duel with him had fallen and attained enlightenment. None lived to fortell the might of his sword, earning him the title "The slayer of mighty men".
Not only was he feared and adored by his Armies, but he also earned the trust of his people. They'd rather entrust their hopes on him than the king of Astheimoth because Valentine had never lost a battle, this they bragged of. So every time he returned victoriously, they'd chase after him with praises and hypes, following him from the gates of Astheimoth to the entrance of the castle, stopping by the crossed spears of the unyielding soldiers guarding.
Yet, the fierce seeker never bulged or revealed any emotion. He had more followers than the king of Astheimoth, but still knelt to him in loyalty.
It was no façade that any man who possessed the gifts this man did would rather rule than spend their entire life being controlled, but Valentine never sought to do so...
Had he ever thought it? Well, maybe?
But that wasn't the life he dreamed of leading. He'd lived all his life bathing in the blood of his enemies, yet deep down, he had always wanted a quiet and simple life far away from the kingdom and battles.
A man like him only ever cared for one thing in his life. His family.
Sadly, he knew that the life he wanted would never be possible with the generational oath his family had taken to fight for the kingdom with their last drop of blood.
Which was why Valentine came to a decision and presented it to the Ruler of Astheimoth, Hezekiah.
Gone were the days when he had nothing to protect and live for. Those days ended when he met her – Hannah, and when she bore his son. He would risk it all for them.
His request being a grant for resignation.
He thought carefully of how to break the words calmly to the king and waited patiently... an honest, sincere plea from Valentine after his return from a victorious battle.
Out of excitement, the king had asked that he request anything of him, an opportunity he had waited for... A rare one. Without wasting time, Valentine took it and was sure to put it to good use. A humble request to be free.
At that time, when he laid out this request to the king, it was instantly declined and told to ask for anything else, as that request would never be granted.
To be honest, he expected it quite frankly. He knew there was no way the king would want to risk the defence of his kingdom for some petty request, even though he had been nothing but completely loyal and faithful to him.
Valentine knew he was nothing but an asset for the country and nothing more. "Your life is irrelevant" was what he had been told, trained only to serve.
Which was why he needed a solid reason to present his request to the king once again, proving to him that he had more to live for.
He did the one thing he never wanted to do in desperation – exposing the once hidden existence of his family.
The king, baffled to see another descendant of a seeker, thought of a plan. There was no way he would allow history repeat itself. If he had harkened to the words of his father's last wish to slay all the gifted ones, he wouldn't have been faced with this uttermost jealousy and anxiety whenever Valentine was present.
His people trusted a mere soldier more than their king!
Hezekiah hid his wicked intentions and feigned understanding, making a deal with the seeker. He saw an opportunity and took it, hitting a solid K.O right on Valentine's weakness.
His deal with the seeker was that before he retired, he had to go on his last battle for the kingdom to prove his loyalty.
My last battle? Valentine thought excitedly, completely blinded by the opportunity presented rather than the catch.
He was genuinely relieved, and seeing that the king was finally interested in his proposal, he bluntly accepted the quest, oblivious to the fact that he was walking straight into a trap, shot on the feet by his own acceptance.
Little did he know that the battle which he prepared for was the biggest and most unrealistic challenge of his entire existence.
An already rigged battle...
~~~~