"HELLO, MALCON."
The voice was cold, inhuman, slicing through the silence of the room. Malcon felt his heart drop into his stomach as he looked up, tracing the voice.
Looking up at a towering pile of skeletons was a throne made of bones and skulls. Seated comfortably on the throne was a humanoid figure.
"WE MEET AT LAST."
"Who… who… what are… what are you?" Malcon stammered, his face filled with horror.
Malcon felt his heart vanish this time around as a sudden air wave smashed onto his face, his eyes interlocking with two blood-red eyes.
"I am Uthred."
It seemed as though the information was too much. Malcon's iris instantly rolled back, and his body fell into a pool of blood.
---
In a dimly lit, pin-drop silent room, seven captains sat comfortably. The only thing they had in common was the white mask they each wore, although each mask was slightly different. Behind each of the captains stood their vice. Unlike the captains, they weren't wearing any masks, but their faces were void of expression, like masks.
Slowly, the captains each stood up as a resounding footstep echoed.
"I, Lord Vega, second in command of the Holy Knight, will be the host of today's meeting," the man who walked in said. His voice was filled with authority. Unlike the others, he wasn't wearing any mask, but a black eye patch.
"The Captain Commander is feeling a bit unwell, so he won't be present in today's meeting," he added as they all sat down.
"As you all know, this meeting was called because of an emergency. Our scout sensed a great outburst of wild aura deep in the woods of the South. An army of fifty men was quickly arranged and sent— not even their dead bodies returned to us." He stopped, taking a deep breath.
"This horde of demons has raided three villages in the South, increasing the size of their army. If we don't stop them, by the time they get to the North, their army may be bigger than Averlion's soldiers."
"Commander, allow me to raise an army of fifty and march into the South," one of the captains said, his deep voice arching for war.
"You're still as hot-blooded as ever, Sir Creston," Vega said.
"Let me go instead, Commander," another female captain proposed.
"You would have been well-fitted for the job, Mrs. Rose, but I'll be sending Sir Ambrose."
"It would be my honor, Commander," Ambrose said.
"This meeting is over," Vega said, standing up, and they all followed suit.
"May the light of Odin guide you," he added.
---
Peter—a man with blond messy hair and deep sea-blue eyes—couldn't resist the joy that swelled on his face.
After all these years of applying to be a member of the Holy Knight, his request was finally granted, and he was also being sent on a mission with Captain Ambrose. A smile crept onto his face as he remembered his wife's reaction when he told her that he had been accepted into the Holy Knight. His only child, Frank, had boasted of him to his friends at school.
"Yo, Peter, we're marching!" his friend James called out to him.
He quickly picked up his helmet, running outside to join the line of fifty Holy Knights led by Captain Ambrose.
For more than an hour, they marched through the thick forest, the moon and stars staring down at them.
"I never thought this day would come," Peter said, still smiling. "We are finally members of the Holy Knight," he added.
"And we are on our first mission with Captain Ambrose," James completed, making Peter smile even more.
Ambrose, who was on horseback with his vice following closely beside him, suddenly stopped his horse.
"Halt!" the vice-captain shouted, and the soldiers stood still. Bending down, she slightly touched the ground.
"Three thousand, sir," the vice-captain reported.
"Get them ready."
"Archers, on me!" the vice-captain shouted. "Lock your arrows!"
The archers quickly moved to the front line, their arrows locked to their bows.
For a while, they all stood still, the sound of their pounding hearts threatening to beat out of their ribs.
Slightly, the ground beneath them vibrated. That was when they sensed the deadly aura that the captain and vice had sensed for more than five minutes.
Peter, on the other hand, was sweating under the heavy armor he wore.
"Get a hold of yourself, man," he muttered to himself, his body slightly vibrating, his hand clenching tight to the hilt of his sword.
The vibration grew worse with every second that passed. The only thing that seemed able to keep up with the vibration was Peter's heart.
"Take a deep breath," Peter heard one of the soldiers advise him.
Out of the darkness in the forest, a horde of demons ran out. The moon reflected off their sharp, life-threatening claws and elongated teeth. Some of them ran on two legs, while others used both legs and hands. But none frightened Peter more than those that sprouted wings and flew toward them.
Shut the fucking arrows, he thought.
The ground rocked as the horde of demons approached, mindlessly swinging their claws and talons, their primordial death desires tainting the air with a foul aura.
"Hold!" the vice-captain teased, her form unshaken by what stood before her. In the same way, the platoon of archers lined up behind her stood composed, their arrows ready.
Peter, on the other hand, wasn't so composed. His grip fastened on the hilt of his sword as though he were trying to squeeze the life out of it. The only reason he stood still was fear—fear of what would happen if he drew any attention to himself.
"Loose!" the vice-captain's voice finally rang out. With it, a barrage of arrows rose to the sky like a plague, threatening to block out the moon. The horde of demons was immediately battered by thousands of arrows, which felled a good number of them—but that didn't stop the rest.
The archers immediately shuffled.
"Again!" the vice-captain ordered, this time with a hand raised to the heavens. A second round of arrows rose to the sky. Unlike the first, these arrows were covered in golden hues.
"The Heaven's Whip," James whispered, as the arrows lit up the night sky, sending crackles through the air on their descent to the ground.
An explosion quickly rocked the earth, causing the wind to lash out at them, while black fumes rose into the night sky.
A cry of pain echoed from the enemy camp, bringing momentary relief to Peter, who had unknowingly loosened his grip on his sword.
"Ready yourselves, Knights. This is it. Remember your training—and tonight will be ours!" The captain's voice built on their renewed hope, and together the sound of blades drawn from sheaths rang through the battlefield.
Peter pulled his blade and held onto it with both hands, while James swung his from left to right to loosen his wrist.
"COME ON!" he repeated to himself before taking the standard stance.
"Peter," James called out.
"Huh?"
"Don't die, brother," he said, his face dead serious.
"You too, brother."
From the veil of black smoke came hundreds of demons that had survived the Heaven's Whip. Everyone was prepared—and as expected, the attack came like raging thunder.
"Attack!"
What could have been a once peaceful night quickly turned to chaos as sword and claw clashed. Peter found himself face-to-face with a heinous beast. It towered over him like a gorilla and swung at him with blade-like claws.
Peter quickly raised his sword to defend himself. But as his blade clashed with the demon's claws, he realized he had made a mistake. The beast hooked his sword and immediately spat acid at his face. Instinctively, he moved his head to the left. The acid narrowly missed his face, burning a hole into the ground behind him.
He quickly drew his dagger from his waist, cutting off the demon's hand, which held tight to his sword.
The demon screamed as excruciating pain spread across its body. Its hand had been cut by a holy blade.
Seeing the demon drowning in pain, Peter tightened his grip on his sword. With a fierce, determined look on his face, he made a swift horizontal swing, separating the demon's head from its neck. But before he could move, another demon dropped onto him from a nearby tree, pinning him to the ground and attempting to bite off his neck.
Peter struggled, but he couldn't escape the demon's grip. Just then, a blade pierced through the demon's head, spilling blood all over Peter's face. Disgusted, he pushed the demon to the side.
"You're a new recruit, right? Stay focused," the killer of the demon said, offering Peter a hand. But before Peter could grab it, the soldier was sucked into the ground, blood spilling from the hole.
"Nooo!" another soldier shouted, jumping into the hole. A few minutes later, he emerged, his face covered with blood, dragging the body of the demon that killed his friend.
He wasn't even given the time to mourn, as another winged demon jerked him off the ground. As he struggled mid-air, an arrow pierced the demon's head, and they both crashed to the ground.
Ambrose sat on horseback, with his vice-captain standing beside him as they watched the battle.
"They're here," the vice-captain alerted Ambrose.
"I know… I can sense them," he said, climbing off his horse.