Mud, dirt, and bodies flew through the air as explosions rocked the world around. A cacophony of fire and death screeched. Cries of horror and screams of agony. Mana flowed through the air like ripples in a pond, each touch resulting in pain and misery.

Humans charged forward in an unrelenting horde of flesh and blood. Each one a mere rat against the Demons they faced. Dozens of lights were extinguished to end the life of a single Argalon.

Luke raised his spear high over his head, shouting his company forward, targeting a small hill where a unit of Argalon and Devils were pushing towards. His men and women obeyed, rushing forward with their shields raised and spears ready.

A squad of Devils stepped in the way.

Luke dove out of the way of a sword slash, only for that same slash to cut down two of his men. Landing in the deep and bloody mud, Luke spun around and thrust his spear upward and into the Devil, slipping between the scales of its armor and into its ribcage.

It cried out before slumping into the mud beside him, adding its own blood to the earth.

Luke drove the butt of his spear into the mud, using it to help him to his feet, yet still he slipped back to his knees. The second attempt allowed him to his feet.

He looked behind him to see that last of the squad of twenty Devils were being killed. Nodding in affirmation, Luke ordered his company forward yet again.

As they charged forward once more, Luke subconsciously noted that his company was already down to some fifty soldiers.

The battle had been ongoing for over an hour already, yet his company had only been ordered into the fray within the last five minutes.

The first enemies they had faced, and they had lost half the company. Almost fifty Human lives for a mere twenty Devils', not even Argalon.

The company was doing better this battle than usual. It seemed Luke's impromptu training sessions were effective.

The company advanced, swarming over the few stragglers they came across, including a lone and wounded Argalon. The giant had taken only thirteen with it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, but was likely less than ten minutes, the company reached the top of the small hill, not even a Human's height taller than the land around it.

Such a hill would allow the Mages and Archers a better view and range.

Already, a squad of Mages were making their way through the chaos towards the hill, being escorted by two companies of Levies.

Exhausted from the fight, Luke allowed himself to watch the escort for a moment. In that single moment, he watched one of the companies fall victim to an Argalon Fireball, almost in their entirety. Only a handful survived, and scattered and dazed as they were, none lasted much longer.

Of the forty Mages that left the main camp, only twenty made it to the hill, despite the escort.

"Good work Captain!" The Mage Leader shouted over the battle waging around them, "Keep them away from us for as long as you can!"

Luke nodded, wiping away some of the bloody mud from his face and ordering his soldiers to form up at the bottom of the hill.

His soldiers responded slowly, but they obeyed.

They were exhausted, despite having only joined the battle a few minutes ago.

Luke couldn't blame them. They had already survived longer than most Levies and killed more Demons than most Levies as well.

He readjusted the kettle helm on his head, wiping more mud off his face, and tightened his grip on his spear shaft, already sleek with red mud.

Luke stepped forward, but his foot never landed.

Luke felt a moment of searing pain radiating from his back and felt himself thrown like a ragdoll.

As the ground below him grew distant, his vision went black.

* * * * *

Luke woke slowly, feeling a crushing weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe as pain filled his mind, originating from every part of his body, especially his back.

Luke looked around to see that he was inside a deep crater. A bloody pool had formed at the bottom, wide enough to for him to lay in. The depth unknown. A body floated in it face first.

Corpses lined the crater, both Human and Demon.

His helmet and equipment were nowhere to be found.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Looking down, Luke found that the weight was in fact a deceased Devil in plate armor. Its weight had pressed Luke into the muddy walls of the crater.

Grunting, Luke wedged his hands under the body and shoved it off.

It rolled down the crater into the pool with a clatter of metal. The Devil knocked the other floating body, revealing that it had no legs.

Luke stumbled to his knees, nearly slipping down the crater. Slowly, and painfully, the young man crawled his way up the crater.

Finally, Luke slapped his arm down on the ledge, using it to pull himself up.

Exhausted, he rolled over the ledge, staring up at the dusk sky as he heaved for breath. Dark clouds above threatened to rain yet again.

Every part of his body ached. His legs burned, his feet stung, his abdomen felt like it had been beaten with a hammer, his arms felt as though they were anvils. Yet the most painful part was his back, which felt like it had was on fire.

And if the feeling on his back against the bloody mud was accurate, Luke suspected the back of his gambeson was burned away. Luckily, Luke's Class had higher than average regenerative abilities, two of which have automatic triggers. Yet if they had activated themselves, that meant that whatever had hit him, had done enough damage to kill him.

Not at all a pleasant thought, but a familiar one.

Those two Abilities had saved his life more times than he could count, several times in one day on more than one occasion.

One that sent his body into a Hyper Regenerative State if his Health went below Twenty percent, at the cost of his Mana. And another that fully healed him in an instant at the cost of his Metabolism.

And considering his Mana was empty and he was starving more than usual, Luke understood just how close he had come to dying, especially considering his Health still hovered around thirty percent.

He had enough Mana to completely heal himself twice over, so whatever had hit him had done so with enough force to kill him four times over, plus a little more.

Luke propped himself up on his elbows, grunting as his body protested the action.

In the fading light of sunset, Luke could see the battlefield stretch on for over a mile in all directions. Not a single spot was free of death.

Luke even spotted the hill he had spent the lives of his Company to take. A large chunk had been taken out, one that had not been there before, and the cause of which was likely what knocked Luke unconscious.

Groaning, Luke rolled himself over and pushed himself to his knees. He allowed his head to lazily hang back for a moment before he reached for a broken spear near a body and used it to help himself to his feet.

The man would not be needing it anymore.

Slowly and carefully, Luke navigated through the battlefield. Carefully stepping over the bodies, both out of respect for the dead, and to prevent breaking an ankle. He looked at each face, hoping that there were other survivors.

He found none.

The Little Duke could only pray that the others had already escaped the battlefield and were already reunited with the Main Army.

But since the war started, many believed their prayers were falling on deaf ears.

Covered in mud and blood, it was impossible to distinguish which body was which. It was hard enough to tell Devil from Human. The Argalon bodies were much easier to identify. They massive frames making them unique among the others, and almost always surrounded by a ring of Humans.

As Luke walked, he pushed what little Mana he regenerated into a personal Healing Spell. His body slowly repaired itself, but it would be several hours before he was healed, and several nights before he was no longer sore.

Luke heard a shout from somewhere far behind him, in a language he did not recognize. Turning his head, he saw a small party of five Devils, their mostly clean armor revealed that they had not participated in the battle. They were not there as survivors, like he was, they were there executing any Human they found, and they had spotted him.

Luke turned back around and ran as fast as he could, but his sore and exhausted legs struggled to maintain even a light jog. The muddy terrain covered in the dead only helped to slow and trip him.

In mere moments, his breathing had turned hoarse and ragged, his vision dimmed, and he tripped, falling into the mud.

He heard shouts of glee from the Devils as they quickly advanced.

Knowing he could not escape them, but refusing to go without a fight, yet knowing there was little resistance he could give, Luke twisted himself around in the mud to face them and lifted his broken spear.

Yet before they came close, a gray flash flew past Luke and attacked the Devils. He watched, stunned, as a Knight in dull armor masterfully blocked and parried the attacks from the Devils with his claymore. Blade and Spell alike seemed to adjust midair to avoid him. It was as if he was testing them before he effortlessly dispatched them.

Luke had not detected the smallest bit of Mana used by the knight.

Their bodies crumpled to the mud to join the others.

After glancing around to check for other Demons, the Knight straightened himself from a ready stance and walked over to Luke, calmly stepping over the carnage around him to offer his hand to the young man.

"Are you perhaps Luke Redmond? Son of Daniel Redmond, Duke of Lissura?"

Luke grabbed the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, grunting as he felt a new pain blossom in his ankle, "I am."

"Good," The Knight lifted his vizor, "I have been sent to retrieve you."

Luke's brow furrowed, "By who? Who would send you into a battlefield just to find one man?"

"By an impetuous brat! Though you might know him as Lord Ashborn."

Luke stumbled back, nearly tripping over a body yet again as he angled the broken spear toward the Knight, knowing it would do nothing after the display he had just watched.

"Are you here to kill me?"

The Knight sighed, "If I was sent here to kill you, why in the hells would I kill the Demons who were already hell bent on doing the job themselves?"

Luke sighed deeply, feeling some of the tension leave him. He realized now it was a stupid question, but he was too exhausted to care.

"Then why?"

"Because he wants to speak to you, and looking around at where you are right now, I would say anything is an improvement."

"What about my father?"

The Knight shrugged, "Not my problem. Not my concern. Now are you going to come willingly, or will I have to drag your unconscious body behind me?"

"I don't have a choice?"

"I might have said I don't care about your father, but I do know the relation between him and Ashborn. You will be coming with me. You have no choice in that. But you do have a choice in the manner. Conscious, or not? But as a sidenote, if I have to drag you, I will tie a rope to your ankles and drag you that way."

"Fine, I'll come with," Luke exclaimed tiredly, "I'm pretty sure my entire Company has been killed. They would just stick me with another one or drop another load of brand-new recruits on me."

"Then follow me and stay close. There might still be Demons around and its going to be a bit of a walk."

The Knight turned around and started walking.

"Wait! What's your name?"

The Knight didn't even turn around, "You can call me Richter. Now hurry up, the smell of death is becoming quite heavy. I would prefer to be far away from this battlefield before the smell of rot joins it."

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