The sky, vast and endlessly blue, stretched over the chaotic battlefield below, beautiful yet intangible, indifferent to the violence unfolding beneath it. Sounds of steel clashing, flesh tearing, and wood splintering echoed across the field, creating a grim symphony of war.
Amidst the chaos stood a towering beast-like creature, standing at least a foot taller than the tallest man, its fur matted with blood. The beast snarled menacingly, baring sharp fangs that promised death to any who dared approach. Soldiers encircled it cautiously, their defensive stances betraying their hesitation and fear.
Three soldiers, faces rugged and worn, summoned their courage and charged forward. One thrust his spear, hoping to pierce the beast's hide; another swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for its neck; the third raised his mace, intent on crushing the creature's skull.
But the beast moved with terrifying agility. With a single swift motion, it tore apart the soldier wielding the mace, then seized his lifeless body and hurled it onto the spear of the first attacker, skewering him instantly. Without pause, the beast lunged at the swordsman, twisting its body mid-air to evade his desperate swing. Its claws sank deep into the soldier's chest, shattering ribs and tearing flesh apart.
The spearman, witnessing the horrific deaths of his comrades, collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Fear overtook him completely. He scrambled to his feet, turned, and tried to flee but it was too late. The beast was already upon him, its claws slicing through his back, lifting him high as a grotesque trophy.
Surveying the carnage, the beast grinned wickedly, intoxicated by the slaughter. It roared triumphantly, its voice echoing across the battlefield.
"THE HUMANS ARE WEAK! THEY ARE NOTHING BUT LIVESTOCK!"
Inspired by their leader's dominance, other beastmen surged forward, attacking with renewed vigor. Yet, in the midst of its triumph, a sudden bolt pierced the beast's shoulder. It spun around angrily, eyes narrowing on a boy no older than twelve standing frozen in terror, the crossbow slipping from his trembling hands.
The beast approached, savoring the boy's fear.
"Human, you will die by my hand."
It growled, voice dripping with malice.
But before it could take another step, a sudden gust of wind brushed past. It was neither gentle nor particularly strong, but it carried an unsettling feeling. Shrugging it off, the beast moved forward only to feel a sharp, sudden pain. Blood sprayed from its neck as the world spun upside down, its vision rapidly fading.
From behind, a mysterious figure blurred into view, moving with impossible speed. In a single fluid motion, he beheaded two other beastmen. Their severed heads fell heavily to the ground, quickly trampled by human reinforcements charging onto the battlefield.
A burly man, perhaps in his mid-forties, shouted fiercely.
"Push them back!"
The human soldiers roared in response, charging forward as the beastmen snarled and lunged to meet them head-on.
"Clear the path!"
Someone else shouted. Immediately, soldiers stepped back, forming a tight shield-wall. A few meters behind them stood a man unlike the others, dressed in robes instead of armor, gripping a wooden staff. He chanted swiftly, and within seconds, a blazing sphere of fire formed at the tip of his staff. With a thrust, the mage hurled the fiery projectile into the mass of beastmen, causing a deafening explosion. The air heated instantly, filled with the acrid stench of burning flesh. Younger soldiers gagged and vomited, while veterans pressed forward, using the confusion to their advantage.
Meanwhile, the mysterious figure continued his deadly dance, facing three beastmen simultaneously. One lunged forward, claws extended, but the figure gracefully dodged backward. Another beastman tried to grab him from behind, but the figure ducked low, pivoted, and cleaved the attacker clean in half. Without hesitation, he spun his sword upward, stabbing the second beastman through the forehead. The third beastman, witnessing the swift annihilation of his comrades, fled in panic.
Two hours later, silence reclaimed the battlefield. Only the corpses strewn across the blood-soaked ground gave testament to the fierce battle that had just occurred. Soldiers solemnly gathered the bodies of their fallen comrades into carts, while others piled the beastmen corpses and set them ablaze, stabbing each body to ensure they were truly dead.
Five carts, heavy with the lifeless bodies of fallen soldiers, slowly made their way along a well-trodden dirt path. Ahead loomed a massive wall, stretching far into the distance sturdy, practical, and scarred from countless battles. Guards atop the wall shouted orders as the carts approached the huge metal gates, their surfaces marred by deep gouges and battered by countless assaults.
This was the border wall of Angloria, the kingdom's frontline defense against the Savage Lands, a vast territory dominated by beastmen tribes. Decades ago, King Robarr of Angloria had led a daring campaign, capturing a small foothold in these wild lands. That place, now known as Robarr's Point, remained the most heavily fortified and contested area, constantly besieged by beastmen raids.
It was said that any boy who survived a single day at Robarr's Point returned as a man. Yet, even here, far from that infamous battlefield closer instead to the dwarven territories and Veranth an independent beastman city, raids were frequent, brutal, and relentless.