The skies began to howl like wolves, and the snow piled to the brim of each soldier's ankles. The bell in the distance stopped, creating silence. Corrin stood still as the cold whipped him, burning his skin like hot metal. The commander's sword was raised high, and all archers stood in wait. All he had to do was let his hand fall, and the battle would begin.

  Corrin felt shocked; he was about to take part in a battle. A bloody hellscape.

  But Corrin had seen what destruction looked like in his life; his village burning down was a prime example. The families, all of them, died because nobody was there to protect them. Corrin’s hometown had been burned because nobody cared. Corrin turned to Tutsoi, then behind him, and looked towards Avitou.

  “I will not let the same fate befall Avitou. I will not let the same fate befall Avitou.”

  Corrin repeated it in his head over and over, and never realized he was muttering it softly. Suddenly, the creatures, as though given a signal, dash forward, running at top speed.

  “Release!”

  The commander's sword thundered down, and Corrin slightly flew forward from the wind of all the arrows flying by him. Everybody held their breath as the arrows flew towards their targets.

  “Nock and Draw!”

  The arrows flew into the ocean of nightmarish creatures; the arrows cut them down in waves, but more continued to come. Corrin’s heart beat faster.

  “Release!!”

  The arrows flew again as the commander told them once again to Nock and Draw. The arrows cut deep once again into the hordes, but they all knew it was in vain. Nothing was changing; the creatures still ran from as far as the eye could see. To their left, the monsters arrived at the wall and began to climb up the bricks, creating divots as they climbed.

  “Ready, Knights!!”

  He turns to Corrin and Tutsoi and nods, signaling that he was referring to them. Both Corrin and Tutsoi unsheath their swords in unison. This was it, this was the battle. Corrin’s heart raced, but no faster than how it had raced in the past. Corrin readied himself, a golden light irradiating from his scar. Tutsoi did the same. Both of them were the most powerful pieces in the game.

  The world exploded as the creatures climbed up and over the wall, fighting at the top of it. Corrin’s sword cut down many as they tumbled down and splattered on the ground below. Their shapes were eerie in the wind.

  The tops of the walls seemed quickly overrun, with a few soldiers more skilled, or with more luck, than the others holding their own against them. The commander fought with the same vigor as Corrin and Tutsoi. All of the soldiers used any form of Resonance they had. All manner of supernatural things began occurring to the monsters.

  “Down!”

  The commander roared forth and grabbed Corrin and Tutsoi, bringing them down to the ground; as close to the ground as they could amidst the bodies.

  Suddenly, arrows started flying from below the wall towards the creatures: the attack was planned. This commander was smarter than he led on. They all raised themselves, kicking the remaining creatures down onto the ground. Soldiers carried pots of boiling water and soup and poured it down the walls, burning the creatures as they came up and stopping them. Sweat began to drip down Corrin's face despite the freezing temperatures.

  More archers ran up the stairs of the wall and came forth.

  “At will!”

  The archers began to shoot at the wall as quickly as they could. Some soldiers ran down and carried up heaps of arrows so that the archers did not run out before the battle was over. Corrin walked back and regrouped with Tutsoi, who was also shaking violently from the battle. The two didn’t say anything, for they did not know what they would have said.

  “Corrin, Tutsoi, go down to the gate; they're nearly broken through, and we need you two down there!”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Both Corrin and Tutsoi did not question the commander, and instead immediately ran down the stairs, around the soldiers bringing arrows, and to the gate, which was to their left. The gate was large and wooden, with metal reinforcements. Dozens of soldiers pressed themselves against the gate, trying desperately to hold it together. But it was no use, the monsters began to punch and gnaw holes through the wood; one monster used its mouth and grabbed a man by the head, whipping and throwing him to the side before retreating through the arrows that pierced its skin.

  As they broke through the gate, Corrin and Tutsoi arrived with their bloody swords to find the gate burst through. Not open, but instead clawed through until they could fit. These creatures were bigger, broader, stronger, with sharper teeth. They broke through and instantly began ravaging the soldiers. Blood sprayed along the battlefield as the creatures bit, slashed, and crushed. Corrin and Tutsoi ran into the fray, cutting down as many as they could, but it was no easy feat, for the creatures had thick fleshy skin and their weak spot was unknown to them both.

  But they pressed on, desperately attacking as many as possible, and even taking down a few, though it seemed that they fell because multiple stabbed the beast rather than any weak point being discovered. Light beamed around Corrin and Tutsoi; they used every technique they knew against the creatures, though there were far too many. Using techniques was nothing but exhausting for the numbers. Just then, one of the creatures ran up looking very different than the others. It was short, fat, and stubby. It had legs like sticks, yet a body like a boulder. It waddled quickly as far into the city as it could, running past the big ones and into the walls of soldiers lining behind.

  Just then, its body began to morph and configure in all manner of horrid, disgusting ways. It squealed aloud, then suddenly the world went dark. An indescribable ringing flew through Corrin’s ears as he got up slowly and cautiously. Blood and flesh were everywhere; bits and pieces of armor still attached to limbs covered the battlefield. As Corrin got up, he realized that his left side was not only covered in the blown-up flesh of his allies, but was also ripped open with deep, red blood pouring from it. His arm’s elbow bent backwards slightly.

  He brought his hand up, his body shaking, and he couldn’t believe the sight: His pinky finger and the tip of his ring finger were completely gone and covered in pouring blood. The back of his hand was mutilated and destroyed beyond recognition.

  Corrin reached for a pouch by his waist with his only available hand and opened it shakily. Corrin pulled out a bandage and brought it to his arm. The armor was blown off enough for Corrin to only need to bandage it. The armor had saved his life; had he not been wearing it, it was quite possible that he would have lost his entire arm. He wrapped the arm slowly in the bandage. He breathed as slowly as he could, trying to get as much oxygen pumping through his body as possible without hyperventilating.

  Tears began to well in his eyes, his hand shook as it bandaged; the pain was far too severe for a steady hand. He wrapped it up as best he could in the midst of combat and while in excruciating pain. He looked around; most of the soldiers who were around the tiny creature were dead. Corrin was a luckier one; it was likely that somebody was between him and the explosion and saved his life by sacrificing their own.

  The tears ran down Corrin’s cheek in waves as he finished bandaging the wound. He wiped away his tears with his right hand as best he could. The crater from the explosion was deep, and at the bottom was a hole from which creatures around the size of Corrin were exiting and running free. There were a few soldiers left. Any that stood up were nearly instantly mauled to death.

  Corrin looked around desperately until he found it: His sword. It lay skewered into the ground about ten feet away from him. Then suddenly, Corrin reached for his neck and felt for it, before giving a huge sigh of relief. The Shard, it was still his. Corrin turned and started crawling toward the sword, the world around him slowing as he used the Shard. Exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him; excruciating pain. Pain greater than just the arm. He stopped and took a deep breath.

  Then he slowed time again, and once again, pain shot through his body. Yet, as he looked around, he realized that the speed at which the creatures were going was noticeably slower. Had he somehow done it? Was he getting more used to the Shard’s abilities? He stopped as the pain became unbearable. He had to stop.

  He began crawling, inching his way more slowly to his sword. He stood and grabbed the sword by its hilt, pulling it from the ground in a single action and setting it by his side. His green overcoat flowed in the wind as he turned back towards the creatures flooding through the gate.