Spring, 1468 AD – The Road to the Central Camp
Marius’s POV
"Faster! Whip them faster, you imbeciles!"
General Marius Vallen screamed at the drivers, his voice cracking with hysteria. He huddled in the corner of the reinforced carriage.
He wasn't looking at the road ahead. He was terrified of what lay behind.
Even from kilometers away, he could feel it. A pressure so heavy it made the air tremble. A sheer, massive wave of mana and bloodlust that was closing the distance with unnatural speed.
His mind flashed back to the report that had started this nightmare. A single soldier, half-mad with fear, had escaped a forward supply base. The man had babbled about knights burning everything down in seconds, about an "invisible power" that punched holes through armor without magic, and about a devil among them. A demon in black armor.
Marius had been concerned enough to consult with Duke Edric Ashcroft, the supreme commander of the invasion force. He had even asked Priest Lancaster, the representative of the Covenant, to intervene if the enemy truly possessed some kind of trickery.
He never expected them to send a Demon General.
Malakor told me to run, Marius thought, shivering uncontrollably. He said he felt something strong coming. He said to leave immediately.
Did Malakor fail? How was that even possible? A Demon General falling to a human?
"Why is it following me?" Marius whimpered, clutching his ceremonial sword as if it could protect him.
"General! The Central Camp!" the driver shouted.
Marius looked up. The entrance of the Central Flank came into view, a massive fortification housing the main army. A sea of tents and banners representing over sixty thousand soldiers.
Relief washed over him so vaguely he almost wept.
"Guard the entrance!" Marius shrieked as the carriage thundered inside the camp. "Do not let anyone come close to me! Kill anything that approaches!"
The carriage didn't stop. He ordered them to drive straight to the Officer’s Camp in the far south of the encampment, as deep inside the formation as possible.
He was safe. He had to be safe. There were sixty thousand men between him and ….
BOOM.
A sound like the earth cracking open echoed from behind.
Marius looked back through the rear window. A massive cloud of dust and debris was rising from the main entrance he had just passed. The heavy timber doors were gone.
Fear gripped his heart again.
"Kill it!" he screamed at the passing knights, pointing frantically back at the gate. "Kill whatever is back there!"
Alaric’s POV
The dust settled, revealing a blockade of nearly a hundred soldiers stationed at the gate. They leveled their spears, shouting orders for him to halt.
Alaric didn't have time for this. The rage burning inside his chest was consuming him, a fire that demanded fuel.
He raised a hand, weaving two high-tier sigils instantly.
"Creo Ignis & Creo Ventus: Compound Flaming Tornado."
A vortex of roaring fire and razor-sharp wind erupted from his palm. It didn't just push the soldiers, rather blasted them away, scattering the hundred men.
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Alaric sprinted through the clearing smoke. He was inside the camp now, surrounded by enemies on all sides, but his eyes saw only red. He wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop until Marius Vallen was dead.
"Stop him!"
A squad of heavily armored knights, Marius's elite rear guard charged at him from the main entrance. They were strong veterans, moving with coordinated precision.
Alaric didn't break stride. He raised his guns.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The "invisible power" the soldier had feared made itself known. The knights didn't even have time to raise their shields. Their heads popped off one after another, vaporized by the hypersonic granite slugs.
Alaric stepped over their collapsing bodies, his boots splashing in the fresh blood.
Ahead, near the southern officer's tents, he saw him.
An old man in a fancy ceremonial dress, weighed down by gold ornaments and pins, was stumbling out of a carriage. He looked pathetic, scrambling on his hands and knees, trying to crawl away.
Alaric’s throat tore open with a scream that silenced the battlefield.
"MARIUSSSSSS!"
The old general shrieked, scrambling faster, trying to drag himself.
"Found you," Alaric whispered.
He raised his gun and fired low.
BANG.
The shot blew Marius's leg almost entirely off at the knee.
"AAAAAHHHHHH!"
Marius collapsed, rolling in the dirt, clutching the ruined stump of his leg. He was screaming and crying, his face a disgusting mess of tears, snot, and mud.
Alaric walked up to him. He didn't rush. He let the heavy thud of his boots announce his arrival.
He reached the sobbing general and stepped firmly on his chest, pinning him to the ground. He pointed the barrel of his gun directly at the man’s forehead.
"Are you Marius Vallen?" Alaric asked, his voice dead.
"Yes! Yes!" Marius cried, his hands shaking as he tried to push the boot away. "Please! I will do anything! I have gold! I have titles! I will give you whatever you want! Just let me leave!"
Alaric leaned down, his eyes cold behind the visor.
"Say... do you remember burning down a village called Shuru? Here, in the western part of what was once Horsin?"
Marius blinked, his face twisted in confusion and terror. He searched his memory, desperate to find the right answer to save his life.
"No... I don't..." Marius stammered. "You... you probably mistake me for another! I never…."
Alaric felt the last ember of hope die in his heart.
This trash didn't even remember.
He didn't remember the village. He didn't remember the families he burned alive in their homes. He didn't remember the women he allowed his men to violate, or the people he forced into slavery just to ensure there were no witnesses left to testify. To Marius, Shuru was just another place. Just another ant hill he had crushed and forgotten.
"You..." Alaric’s voice trembled, not with sadness, but with fury. "You don't even remember?"
"I'm sorry! Please forgive me!" Marius wailed. "I will give you anything!"
"Can you give me my mother and father back?" Alaric screamed. "Can you give me the friends I had? Can you give me my village? My peaceful life?"
Marius couldn't say anything. He just choked on his own sobs.
Alaric took a breath. He had one last question.
"Say... tell me. Who are the Covenant?"
Marius’s eyes widened. "I... I don't know much! They are with the Commander! He has their support and power! They promised us we would win easily if we listened to them!"
Alaric sneered. "Tch. You are of no use."
He looked down at the sobbing mess of a man. This was the monster that had haunted his nightmares for years? This pathetic coward?
"Just a waste of living space," Alaric whispered. "Just die."
He pointed the gun straight at Marius’s head.
"Noooooooo—"
BANG.
The scream was cut short.
Alaric stood there, staring at the corpse. He waited for the relief. He waited for the joy of vengeance.
But he felt nothing.
Maybe he had become a monster far worse than Marius himself. He felt empty. Hollow. There was no satisfaction, no peace. Just the ringing in his ears.
Slowly, Alaric lifted his head.
He realized for the first time that the screaming had stopped.
Surrounding him, in a wide circle, were thousands of soldiers. The entire central army of Buckland was watching him.
Nobody said a thing. They just looked at him.
The sheer amount of bloodlust radiating from Alaric made everyone fear taking a breath. Logically, the army knew they could win. Alaric didn't have infinite stamina. If they rushed him all at once, they could tire him down and kill him.
But nobody approached.
Alaric looked around the circle of terrified faces. He raised his gun slightly.
What? You wanna try?
The Buckland soldiers stood frozen. They knew, in their bones, that they were witnessing history. They were looking at the birth of a legend.
This boy was either humanity's greatest calamity and monster, or its strongest ally. And none of them wanted to find out which one he was today.
