16 November 2016
Bombs started to explode on the left side of the frontline.
The men of the 9th infantry division of the second Dokht Army have been assigned to the rearguard. Nervously they turned their heads in the direction of the explosions. A broad axe-man named Bull shouted the command that sent them in the middle of nowhere. That's why people called him Bull - he liked being loud.
“What a hell were they thinking sending us to the rear? We’re the best soldiers in all of the Dokht Army. Is that right, Dyak?!”
Dyak was a squad leader and a loyal officer to the Dokht Empire. He has seen many battles throughout his life, and even he had a bad feeling about the one on the horizon. He ran an eye over his squad: only 43 men, most of them rookies. It was Dyaks idea to send them in the rear to avoid massive losses. He would never let Bull know this of course.
Suddenly, a pale man in a black coat and a young woman with a bow came out of the forest. There was no doubt they were Adornians.
“Enemy! To arms!” shouted the sentry, and in the blink of an eye an arrow pierced through his head and stuck in the belly of a soldier behind him.
Dyak repeated “To arms, men!, line formation!”
It took less than half a minute for the squad to fulfill the order. Meanwhile, there were no arrows coming from the Adornian side.
“Where are the other ones?” whispered the soldiers in formation.
“Are there only two of them?”
“They rest must be hiding behind the trees” The man in the coat took off running towards Dokht Army.
“Fire!“ ordered Dyak. Dyak could swear a few bullets hit the target, but it didn't slow down the Adornian. Dyak shouted for his men to retreat. Within a second, the cloaked enemy reached the hilltop where the platoon was stationed.
“Encircle him!” shouted Dyak, ”Take him in the pocket!” The Adornian laughed. Another bullet hit his shoulder, and he threw a blade into the shooter. The encirclement failed. The Adornian killed everyone with his bare hands, breaking their armor and blocking attacks while throwing the Dokhts away like rag dolls.
An experienced and agile fighter, Bull managed to hit the opponent in his leg, but it also didn't stop the Adornian: he turned to Bull and bit him in the neck. Dyak was left alone, his rage blinded him. He hit the Vampire with the shield, but the beast has barely moved. Then, he hit him with a sword, and the Vampire knocked it from his hand. A terrifying blow kicked the commander of the squad aside.
“What's your result?” The Vampire asked his female companion.
“You're getting old, girl. I have 34 on my count.”
Dyak was lying on the blood soaked ground, surrounded by the dead bodies of his fallen comrades. He then felt a gentle touch of lips on his neck, and the world went dark. He had also fallen to this foe. But only for a couple of seconds. The blood from his fallen comrades that covered the battlefield, started to pool and develope streams of blood, flowing directly toward Dyak. It healed his wounds and gave him a surge power. Bestowing Dyak with a new urge to protect his people. The ones he loved, supported and cared so much for, but they were all gone. Dyak rose to his feet and picked up Bulls razor-sharp axes, feeling a new unknown power flowing through his veins.
“Now this is concerning,” the Vampire turned around to face the resurrected platoon leader.
“Is that because you bit him?” the archer asked.
“I don't know darling, but it doesn't look good.”
Then muttering in an uneasy voice “You kill this one — you win.”
Dyak no longer the same man that graced the battlefield less than an hour ago, readied for battle.
The Berserker made a boisterous battle cry and ran into battle.