The Twilight Forest

"It's getting much colder these days."

"Of course it fucking is, it's winter."

"That isn't what I mean, it never used to be this cold in these parts."

Two men rode side by side on horseback. Adorned in thick plate-mail, their breath lingering before their open helms. The orange sunrise was warring with the purple moon in the sky, the streaks of grey cloud merely bystanders.

A long winding column of knights followed the two leading men. All were wearing similar olive-green armour with a large white flower under a crescent moon. The Moonflower chapter of the Eventide Kingdom.

A layer of frost coated the rolling tundra, the normally wet mud road was frozen solid.

Soft furs acted as capes for the knights, if it weren't for these, some of them might've kicked the bucket at this stage.

"What a shitty task. I hope this emissary is worth it."

"Yeah, although it’s not so bad. The cold reminds me of Turvea."

"What? That sheep-shagging hometown of yours?"

"Hahaha, at least we don't have to deal with Muricean housewives."

One of the men was Richard, the other was the middle-aged man seated next to the Grandmaster in the Elders Council, Brent of Muricea.

While the men both came from very different places, they had both clawed their way up from the dribs and drabs of the Kingdom, going from commoners to noblemen. One man going from rags to riches in the Eventide Kingdom was unheard of, let alone two men in the same lifetime. The reason for this was their innate gifts, only a foolish ruler would ignore their Kingdom's natural assets.

Richard was a monstrous existence who was near invincible on the battlefield or in a duel, but Brent was far scarier. No matter how strong he was, Richard was one man, in the face of an army he stood no chance. But Brent was different. He was the General of the First Army and perhaps the greatest tactician the Kingdom has produced in the past millennia, capable of fighting outnumbered five-to-one with inferior soldiers and winning, but there are always different circumstances. The fact that these two were sent spoke a thousand words on the magnitude of the task, to escort the emissary through the Twilight Forest.

The Forest was the only danger zone in the entirety of the Eventide Kingdom, but it spanned the entirety of the southern border. This had its good and bad sides, but mostly bad. While invading armies would have to detour, the atrocities which invaded from the forests were much more horrifying.

Both Richard and Brent knew this very well. They were equally nervous and could tell this from each other's body language, but they had to banter on lest the company's spirits be affected. The company of knights they headed were the nation’s finest, hand-picked by his majesty himself, they were the crème de la crème of the Eventide Kingdom.

These men originated from the Moonflower chapter, the best knight chapter in the Kingdom. The chapter's task of course, was not to fight the invading nations, nor protect the people. No, it was something far more nefarious. They were the guardians of the southern border, what they fought were not men, but beasts. Monsters of the night, Demons.

The many jagged claw marks running on their olive armour were symbols of pride, the badges of honour they carried representing the horrors they faced. But they still shivered at the thought of the hellish forest, a place where men should not tread, and birds do not fly.

The sun which crept up on the companies left was their only respite from what they faced. The frosted road made their mounts snort and whinny. They had travelled like this for almost a day and night without respite, once south of the Great Wall, stopping means dying.

Richard and Brent had wry smiles on their faces. They quietened down now, allowing the men to concentrate, ready themselves, say their prayers to their chosen Gods and think of who or what they were fighting for. None of the men were new to this ritual of the order. Their fathers, even their fathers' fathers were sent into this forest for similar reasons.

Richards vision darkened as titanic blackwood trees blocked the rising sun. This was it. The beginning of his fourth visit to hell. No other man had come back from the Twilight Forest twice, but Richard was more monstrous than any other man that had come before. Still, a cold sweat drenched his vest. Richard thought of the boy as the shadowed canopy stared back at him, he wondered if he would see the tournament.

Raising his gauntlet, the word was passed through the column. The knights dismounted, taking small pouches of food and waterskins to keep them from exhaustion. Taking their mounts by the reins, they lined up before the forest. Each knight raised their gauntlet and in the same moment slapped their mounts sending them galloping into the forest.

Without a word, Richard charged behind the horses into the darkness of the forest. Behind him was Brent and the company of fifty charged forth. They couldn't ride in the woodlands, so the horses acted as bait, luring the monsters' gazes onto bigger meals.

The companies' thunder through the quiet forest seemed to stir no one, but as battle-hardened men they knew there were eyes in these woods.

*Clack, tink, crunch, clack, tink, crunch*

The armour was enchanted to the extent it felt weightless, as were their weapons. With performance enhancing enchantments they ran almost at the same speed as horses, agilely traversing the thorny and treacherous paths.

Five minutes of running.

The company had barely broken a sweat, the years of rigorous training not going to waste. They had now passed the first horse. Its head was severed from its body, or what was left of its body. Merely a taste of things to come. The men barely batted an eye.

Ten minutes of running.

They passed more and more horse corpses, each disfigured more than the last. The sound of fifty knights charging through the forest was surprisingly quiet. The soft moss muffling the snap of roots and crumbling stones. The canopy was so thick no light could enter. Instead the men's armour glowed neon-green illuminating a radius of fifty meters, as if to say, 'come get me fuckers'.

Fifteen minutes of running.

What was left of the last horse came into view about five miles into the woods. The men stopped. They had arrived at their destination. The centre of the woods. A large clearing came into view, a very familiar place to Richard. A very dreaded place.

"Formation!"

Both Richard and Brent screamed at the top of their lungs. The first and fastest twenty-five men crouched down at the centre of the clearing, unstrapping equipment swiftly. The importance of this clearing was the single ray of light which pierces the canopy. One which would brighten for the next few hours as the sun passed overhead, the sun was the weakness of those who lurked in the forest. The remaining and slowest twenty-five men formed a circle around the knights readying equipment.

They would meet the first wave.

*Babum*

"Weapons ready!"

Brent's orders were drowned out by the sound of creatures gathering.

Great hammers, battle axes, longswords, flails, scythes, guandaos and varying other weapons were held at the ready. The twenty-five men crouching within the circle unholstered their crossbows, the mithril tipped arrows glinting in the light of the sun.

*Babum*

"Hold!"

The men's ragged breaths, not from the run, the situation intensify tenfold. This same rhythm had played each time Richard had come to this place. He was too focused to notice the occasional skull resting in the clearing, perhaps someone he once knew.

*Ba-*

The trees shook and splintered before their footfall. Rocks crumbled to dust and the bravest knights' hearts leapt.

"Fire!"

*Kathunk-*

The crossbow bolts whizzed past the closed helmets of the frontlines. The green light of the armour illuminated the ghastly images of the Demons and monsters alike.

The twenty-five bolts nailed into the ground.

*Zoom*

A magical formation created a dome over company.

*Crash*

The charging Demons collided with the barrier causing it to screech and shudder, but it held. The front line stepped out with the ferocity of the Moonflower chapter.

"YAAGH!"

The knights' weapons barrelled through the barrier unhindered by the barrier, smashing, crushing, gnawing and shredding both Demon and monster, both flesh and bone. They burst into a one-sided mauling of the creatures who could do nothing but slam with might that rocked the earth and quaked the trees into the rapidly weakening barrier.

"Reload!"

Brent screamed, the men cocked the crossbows once more sliding in the fresh bolts.

"I count three Leshies, nine Gutguzzlers, sixteen Shrillers and…."

The man giving the report choked on his own words as he heard a ringing in his ears.

"By the Gods- It's a Gashadokuro!"

Richard turned to the knight reporting the creatures. He shook in his armour as he did so. A gargantuan skeleton towered over the dome. It was easily the size of fifteen men, making the magical barrier insignificant in comparison.

"Impossible."

Richard realised their own tactics had been their downfall. In each expedition into the forest this clearing had been their battlefield, they left each time leaving behind the desecrated bodies of the fallen, but now it had quite literally come back to haunt them. The bones from those fallen warriors had formed this monstrosity.

"High class Demon."

These words passed the lips of each knight. These men who were readied for death paused sucking in the cold morning air. To put this in context, even the creme of the crop in the Moonflower order could barely handle these three low class demons, Leshies, nine high class monsters, Gutguzzlers, and sixteen middle class monsters, Shrillers. This was with the help of the sun light which weakened them significantly, not forgetting their enchantments, magical barrier and military tactics.

In order to clarify the difference between monsters and Demons, there is one definitive disparity. Demons use magic and physical power, whilst monsters utilise solely physical strength. This makes a qualitative difference in power between the two.

Seeing the Gashadokuro towering over the barrier, Richard knew it was his time. His fallen comrades had to be put to rest.

"I'll go.", Richard patted Brent on the shoulder.

Brent met Richards eyes, respect and goodwill sweltering forth. The knights, hearing that calm and familiar voice in the midst of their fear, were dragged back to reality. Richard of Turvea. The man's name was etched into their souls in that moment.

More beast than man, he sauntered forth when no other man dared.

"Tell the boy of my deeds when you get back."

"Will do."

Brent turned from Richard to look at the other knights.

"Break formation! Charge! Create an opening!"

Brent roared out commands as Richard stared death in the face, and death stared back.

*Shing*

Galadriel. A long silver great-sword and national treasure of the Eventide Kingdom shone under the green glow from Richard's armour. Its silver body filled with runes, an icy aura spread from it creeping towards the bone giant. Slapping down the visor of his pig-faced bascinet he steeled his will. Thirty years of constant battle lead to this accursed moment.

The two knights closest to the Gashadokuro had parted, heading for the nearest monsters. The Gashadokuro towered over the barrier, pulling back, it was about to slam down on the barrier when-

*Clang*

Richard swung down hard on the giant's tibia, making the near indestructible material reverberate. A layer of ice spread onto the bone. Richard continued to pass through the barrier and between the giant's open legs running into the forest behind it where he turned to face the monster.

"This way fatty! Oh! What's that? You're just big boned?"

As if spurred by Richard's provocation the bone giant turned eerily, making no noise as it swivelled traversing towards him with long strides, unhindered by the ice as it shattered.

Richard's ears felt the sharp ring belonging to the creature. With his hearing gone he was greatly disorientated but managed to fend off the nearby Shrillers which had tried to drag him down. The creatures were a mix of fur and scale with jagged horns protruding from their scalp running down their spines. They had gotten their name from the shrill scream they released when they killed. Galadriel made quick work of the first beast jabbing straight through its open maw, rending the creatures throat and exiting its back in a spurt of blue blood and pus. Withdrawing the sword Richard sprinted into the forest, the Gashadokuro following closely.

The knights battled on in the distance, their light fading from Richards peripheral vision as he ran, as far and as fast as he could. Glancing over his shoulder as he ran, ensuring the noiseless giant was still in pursuit. He soon noticed it was nearing. No matter how much adrenaline was running through his veins his aging body had reached its limit.

"Ho- heh, come on heh- is that all you got? Ho."

Richard jeered between breaths. A large bony hand swept towards him. In that split-second Richards kind eyes became serious. Digging his foot into the forest floor, Richard launched upwards, holding out a hand he grasped the creature's thumb as it swept by.

"Hah!"

Using the momentum, he swung and landed on a neighbouring tree.

*Bang*

The tree he rested upon splintered to pieces, the skeleton's giant leg splitting the tree like rotten wood. Richard flew and rolled onto the ground, Galadriel firmly in his grasp, his sweat was trickling down his face in the claustrophobic helmet, but it had protected him from shrapnel. Removing the helmet, Richard realised his hearing was being cancelled by the creature.

The Gashadokuro made another fluid movement, the power of magic and force packed behind each strike it decimated the surrounding forest. Richard rolled, ducked and weaved going from tree to tree.

*Crash*

Another tree was reduced to sawdust.

*Boom*

And another. Richard was heaving the air into his body, constantly rolling and barrelling, unable to keep it up for much longer he finally stood his ground. Behind him was the largest and final tree in the area. His plan was falling into place.

*Swoosh*

The skeleton sent another kick hurtling towards him.

"Stupid creature!"

*Kacha*

Just as Richard was dodging, the poor visibility provided by his armour failed him. Skimmed by the giant's fibula, a dark and evil magic shattered Richard's armour, luckily it absorbed most of the blow. The skeleton's kick had crushed the giant tree at the base. It groaned and creaked as if it were dying, before the rustle of leaves neared Richard.

He struggled to his feet, the iron taste of blood in his mouth, the chainmail protecting his body now heavy without enchants. With no light from his armour, it was pitch black, and the Demon had robbed him of hearing. Richard was the most focused he had ever been. He gripped Galadriel in both his hands as he stood, waiting.

*Whoosh*

A gentle breeze tickled his skin. His hairs stood on end.

"HAH!"

Launching himself in that millisecond, he flew through the air, striking at the source.

The tree collapsed, making an opening in the canopy, causing a great stream of light to penetrate the undergrove. Richards eyes adjusted to it swiftly.

The light hit the scene, Galadriel was entrenched deeply in the skeleton's cheekbone, many cracks running along the smooth surface. Richards body however, was caught between the massive teeth of the creature, the titanic jaws frozen solid by ice, preventing him from being decapitated.

*Crack*

Jagged cracks formed in the ice as the Demon resisted fiercely.

"HAAH!"

Seeing his predicament Richard scraped his flesh in an attempt to wriggle out, leaving the sword embedded in the monster- but he was too late.

*CRUNCH*

"Grmph!"

Richard landed on the forest floor, a spatter of blood following, he had untangled himself from the Demon's maw in the last moment, leaving behind his left arm as payment. In the sunlight the creature was greatly weakened. It shrunk back searching for darkness, but Richard would not let it return to slaughter his companions.

He thought of the Prince in that moment. The boy's scruffy hair and noble features.

"Alas, I won't be able to watch over you any longer. Good night sweet prince. And flights of angels sing me to my rest! Hahaha!"

Going berserk in his final moments, Richard of Turvea clawed his way up the body of the fleeing Gashadokuro.

He channelled his qi as a warrior through his body, launching himself to the face of the creature, finally grasping the handle of Galadriel.

The qi flowed into the sword, forming more and more ice, the joints of the indestructible Demon freezing solid. Richards body rapidly deteriorated, but his iron-will disallowed him from letting go. His severed arm stopped bleeding like a dried well, the bulging muscles of the boisterous man evaporated, feeding the hungry sword as it sealed the Demon in thick ice, preventing it from movement.

Richard felt a wave of tiredness strike his gaunt body, he dropped to the ground, the crunch of his brittle bones sounding out. He lay amongst ice and blood and a bed of splinters with gaunt cheeks and broken bones. He gazed at the beautiful sky for one last time, the morning sun finally putting the moon to rest.

But how could he rest in peace?

Out of nowhere a silver masked demon had to stick its head in.

"Subere, there is no hope for him."

Richard realised he had gotten his hearing back, a stern voice, that of a woman fell into his ears.

"I've got a bone to pick with you, mister. Did you do this to my big boned friend over here?"

A comically stupid voice sounded out. It was from the peculiar masked demon which loomed over him pointing towards the Gashadokuro.

"Just let me die in peace."

The silver masked fellow squatted down closer to Richard. A black gloved hand pulled the mask back.

"Don't talk about death in front of me."

As Richard gazed into those hollow sockets, he realised he was already dead.

"The Grim Reaper-", he mumbled his final breath extinguishing.