As the golden arrow flew through the air, Damian followed its movements, its body glowing with a subtle golden light which filled him with fear.
The further it went, the brighter it became until it looked like a miniature sun streaking across the battlefield.
The arrow was aimed at a centurion, a man in heavy plate armour cut from incandescent steel glimmering in the moonlight.
He was the head of a charge chariot pulled by a singular beast, a large dog-like creature with a single eye and bloodied spikes covering its torso, and a full platoon behind him.
Seeing the arrow come his way, he didn't slow down. Instead, he raised his shield high, prepared to meet it head-on. When the shield and arrow collided, the sound of shattering stone echoed forward as the man's shield was demolished.
The arrow effortlessly pierced through his chest. As the arrow flew, the light became unbearable to look at until it suddenly erupted with an explosion of golden light, killing the entire platoon of soldiers and injuring many others.
The rest of the cycle was a blur of movement and ferocity, with little time to react to the devastating strike from the enemy commander. The army of Truth had no choice but to engage in a fierce melee, with the momentum of their assault against the legion of war broken, it was nothing short of a bloody massacre.
Men and beasts alike were torn apart by various means, each more brutal than the last. The soldiers attempted to repel the assault, but it was all for nought.
One by one, the members of Damian's platoon were disembowelled by the claws of a ferocious beast, the second was ripped in half by a large wolf-like creature, and the third had their skull crushed by a heavy mace.
Whilst the fourth was torn through by a barrage of needle-like arrows.
Watching the carnage around him, he tensed as a man in ragged clothes charged at him with a large greatword. The man was obviously untrained, but the look in his eyes was nothing short of pure hatred, as if he despised the fact that his enemy had never been born.
As the sword swung down, Damian raised his shield high to guard against the strike. As the stone and steel collided, a quiet ring echoed out, and the blade was suddenly flung backwards. The ragged man staggered back, eyes wide as he lost his balance.
Damian felt no force from the attack, using his steady stance to thrust his spear forward, easily piercing the man's heart and his back. The spear was light yet punctured him with little difficulty, as if he wasn't even there.
As the man fell and the light left his eyes, a voice spoke out to Damian,
[You have Slain a Dormant Human, Slave of War],
The words rang in his head like a melody. It was a bittersweet moment for Damian. He had survived and even begun to suspect that the engraving on his equipment was more than decoration, when the taste of sour bile built up in his throat.
'A slave? Did that man even have a choice to be here?',
already knowing the answer to his question, he continued to march forward as more and more people approached to block his path,
[You have Slain…]
[You have Slain…]
[You have Slain…]
[You have Slain…]
The voice continued to ring in his mind each time he reaped a life. The voice was cold and uncaring, as if not paying attention to the massive loss of life in front of it,
For each ragged man and woman he cut down, it said the same three words, Slave of war, as if their names didn't matter, as if their lives never existed.
Maybe they never did? Who knew what this place really was? Did it really exist at all?
His mind was clouded by all these thoughts. He had been in war before, and he knew its costs, but he had always been far from the action, never looking his enemies in the eyes as he snuffed them out, always sitting back, never hearing their screams.
He had managed to avoid the beasts for now, but he knew his luck would run out sooner or later, and before long, he heard the sounds of chains rattling as over a nearby dune, a man in simple leather armour riding on the back of a strange, spider-like reptile creature, its six powerful legs pushing through the white sands at incredible speeds,
Its maw was like that of a large crocodile, covered in dark blue scales, its compound eyes a deep shade of violet.
The chains were seemingly nailed into its skull, with a saddle on its back. The man held the chains as he scouted the scene below, locking eyes with Damian. His smile widened as he raised a long spear and charged, with a warcry screeching from his lungs.
Charging in, he couldn't help but cry out in victory. Looking down, he saw the battlefield in all its bloody glory. His brothers in arms had ravaged the Daemon's forces, forcing them on the defensive.
The various beasts they had brought with them had fuelled a large portion of the enemy frontline, but were now being slaughtered in retaliation, and the Slaves had even pulled their weight to some extent, but what truly caught his attention was a lone soldier.
Separated from his men, he should have been dead long, long ago. Instead, he was surrounded by dozens of bodies of the nameless slaves he had slaughtered, his stone-like armour made him seem like a stone warrior, a living statue built for nothing but war.
Of course, countless of those had already fallen to the Legion of War in previous years.
Riding his bestial mount, he looked down at the lone soldier and smiled. How long had it been since he had faced a warrior like that? Too long.
Taking the reins in his hands, he directed his beast towards his prey. As he approached, he released one side of the reins, reaching back and grabbing hold of his spear.
Approaching at frightening speeds, he attempted to pierce the soldier's chest but was surprised as he stepped to the side, barely avoiding his strike, quickly blocking an attack from the rear. He turned to face his opponent once more.
Charging once again, he saw the soldier stand his ground, the beast lunged at him, pinning the man to the ground. He barely had enough time to raise his shield again before the creature bit down on him, sending his spear sprawling away.
The beast's hungry snarls deafened the surrounding battles as it attempted with all its might to bite down on the lone soldier, with only his armoured arms holding up his shield to keep it from clapping down on his skull. Seconds passed as the noise of sharp metal etched against the ancient stone.
The man looked down on his prey and smiled. He could see the pools of blood begin to form underneath the beast. Victory was surely his. He watched as the man reached one arm out, trying desperately to reach for his weapon.
Before Damian had a chance to grab hold, the legioner of war struck at his wrist, attempting to shatter the stone and pin him to the ground,
Instead, the legioner suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist. As his arm recoiled from the unexpected pain, the sound of shattering steel rang out. Suddenly, his beast recoiled, its jaw strangely shattered with shards of its teeth littering the sands, before either beast or rider could react, a long spear pierced the creature's eye,
[You have Slain a Dormant Monster, Desert Scourge],
Damian could barely believe he had survived. It was nothing short of a miracle, really. He had guessed by now that the shield had the uncanny ability to reflect the physical force of an attack.
He hoped the armour would have the same effect. By using its own attack against it, he had managed to shatter the creature's jaw.
After managing to grab his weapon after the rider attempted to stop him, he had managed to land a killing blow to the strange creature, and now all that was left was to finish off its master.
Rising to his feet, Damian raised his shield and spear and prepared to attack. He knew he shouldn't underestimate his enemy but after killing that beast… or Monster as the voice had called it, he felt like there was nothing that a simple human could do to him.
He quickly lunged at the man, hoping to finish him off with one decisive blow to the head, but the man quickly deflected the attack and backed away before engaging with a strike of his own,
This back and forth of exchanging blows continued for several long seconds before Damian was struck on the side. The man flinched but continued, then again and again. Slowly, the man was landing more and more strikes whilst Damian was barely defending against the onslaught.
With each strike landed, Damian staggered back. It was small steps at first, small shifts in how he positioned his feet or in how he turned his torso to avoid the blows.
It wasn't long before he realised he was being pushed back considerably by each strike; even though none had managed to pierce his stone shell, he could feel it slowly breaking away with each strike.
The confidence he had briefly felt from slaying the Desert Scourge had been washed away by the fact that he was simply outmatched.
Damian knew the basics of fighting with a shield and spear. He had been trained in short-range combat during his time as a soldier, but those were mostly for endurance,
No one was really expected to get that close to the enemy in the modern age, especially not a sniper like him, so even if his training was good against some untrained slaves and a wild animal, he was no match for a real expert.
That was what the man of war was, a soldier, just like Damian, but unlike him, he was born on the battlefield and had likely been using a spear for most of his life. There was no way of winning in a fair fight.
Still, Damian never truly believed in fighting fair. He just had to find out how to exploit what was around him.
Trying to raise his shield to block an oncoming attack, the soldier of war simply reangled his attack, again and again. Damian tried to defend, but each attempt was met with failure.
The soldier shot forward with his spear, aiming for the opening of the eyes, hoping to blind Damian if not kill him outright, but his aim was thrown off course by the pesky shield.
Damian had hit the shaft of the spear with its rim before he could react, causing it to scrape against the side of his head.
Feeling the pain streak across his face, instead, he backed away and scowled as crimson liquid dripped down his face.