Plaze District

Screams and wails of agony emanated from a section of destroyed wall as blades clashed with each other. The clanging of metal was accompanied by occasional thunderous blasts from a gaulus — a type of wolf-like canid that emitted explosive magic from its horns. Mounted on the gaulus was General Bahara himself, directing an elite squad of 50 obsidian knights and 100 orc kings.

To no avail, the outmatched defenders did their best to slow the relentless tide of invincible armor. With their ballistae and cannons eliminated by Bahara’s opening salvo, the defenders had no weapon that could pierce the Oni armor. Swords and spears barely scratched the glistening dark metal while arrows simply bounced off.

On the other hand, the obsidian knights experienced no difficulty cutting down the helpless garrison of Plaze. With every swing, they cleaved multiple men in half. With every punch, they pulverized a man’s skull. With every step forward they took, the terrified mass of humans took multiple steps backward.

Only against the orc kings did the Plaze defenders find any semblance of success, albeit in the form of minor injuries they were able to inflict upon the bare skin of the monsters. Some arrows pierced the orc kings, only serving as an annoyance rather than debilitating strikes. Carefully exploiting their numerical superiority, the defenders attempted to isolate and surround the more vulnerable orc kings. However, Bahara quickly caught on and in an unexpected display of intelligence, obsidian knights methodically filled the gaps. They stepped in to assist their orc comrades, preventing the humans from taking advantage of their numbers.

Finding their losses unbearable and their ability to fight diminished, the defenders retreated to regroup with the thousand-strong legion of reinforcements stationed in Hurst, the closest city to Plaze. A few remained, using whatever tools they had to stem the demonic tide. They used oil and flaming arrows to ambush the enemy’s predictable advance, forcing them to reposition and travel a different path to their destination.

Unfortunately for the defenders, there was only so much oil to be used. Their numbers and supplies dwindled, forcing them to retreat. With little resistance, Bahara’s army carved a path through Plaze carelessly, emboldened by the gaulus behind them. They moved with purpose, spending as little time as possible on combat and instead focusing on distance. They ignored civilians and the rest of the town, seemingly dead-focused on reaching the Central District, which was over half a day’s march away.

As Bahara’s army approached the outer limits of the district, they were faced with another massive gate. At the base, the reinforcements from Hurst had gathered with the battered Plaze garrison for their last stand. Sparing no time for a dramatic confrontation, Bahara immediately loosed a volley of explosions from his gaulus, decimating as much heavy weaponry as he could.

In retaliation, the surviving cannons and ballistae targeted the gaulus. Devastating attacks that could’ve easily eliminated obsidian knights and orc kings were instead wasted on nothing. The gaulus evaded the projectiles nimbly, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. As it did so, it fired back with uncanny accuracy, destroying the remaining artillery pieces.

Meanwhile, the battle continued to rage on the ground. Humans were cut down mercilessly, with only the most skilled swordsmen and several beastmen managing to hold their own against their more powerful opponents. Alas, no amount of skill or strength was enough to overcome the difference in power between the two armies. The kingdom’s men lost their numerical advantage, the gaulus helping to expedite their culling.

Eventually, only a tiny handful of survivors remained. Ten men stood valiantly, battered yet defiant. To their surprise, the demons ceased their actions, standing by as their leader approached them.

Heavy footsteps heralded the arrival of the gaulus, upon which Bahara issued a final ultimatum to the survivors, “You have fought admirably, but certainly you see the futility of your continued defiance. Open the gate, and your lives shall be spared. Refuse, and we shall return to raze this district after we complete our objectives.”

The commanding officer stepped forward, spitting toward Bahara, “You demons will be smitten by the Emissaries, and I pray your entire kind is extinguished!”

Bahara frowned, although the gesture wasn’t visible to the defenders. The mention of the Emissaries rattled him, but the feelings dissipated as the gem around his neck glowed brighter. “You, nor any of your pathetic kind, will live to see that day.”

——

Amidst sounds of battle, a small platoon of guards stood outside the Plaze district, barricading it with items pulled from nearby abandoned buildings. On the other side, fighting continued to rage with the demonic cries of orc kings blending in with the death throes of human and beastman knights. They ignored the suffering of their comrades, focusing on their orders to hold the vital choke point and prevent the enemy from breaching the third layer.

One of the knights suddenly stopped what he was doing, his attention drawn to something in the distance. A cloud of dust approached them, originating from the direction of Hurst. He placed a jar of oil down, informing his commanding officer of the unknown arrivals. “Sir, do we have any more reinforcements coming?”

“I don’t believe so, but thank the heavens if those really are reinforcements,” A gray-furred wolfman said, turning to squint at the figures in the distance. “Those look like… metal carriages?” He began to grin from joy, feeling blessed, “The Emissaries! They’ve come to aid us!” He announced.

The commanding officer walked forward, ready to greet the carriages, which spread out in a semicircle around the gate before coming to a stop. He walked toward the center vehicle, from which emerged a burly man dressed in a camouflaged uniform and another man with a familiar face – Knight Captain Mortes.

“Sir!” The wolfman saluted.

Mortes held his hand up as he walked toward the wolfman. “At ease, commander,” Mortes said. “What’s the situation here?”

The wolfman responded, “We have continued to barricade the gate, as instructed. Our brothers still fight on the other side, but I fear they are losing. The sounds of battle have since died down.”

Mortes looked at the gate with sorrow-laden eyes. “I see. Commander, have your men fall back to the vehicles. Let the Emissaries handle this.”

The wolfman nodded and brought his men behind the JLTVs.

Meanwhile, a drone flew over the wall, scouting the battlefield.

“What do you see?” Baker asked Nakamoto.

Nakamoto shook his head. “Not good. They’ve got about fifty Oni and a hundred orc kings, plus some sort of giant wolf…”

“Giant wolf?” Mortes asked, overhearing the conversation. He walked over to Baker and Nakamoto, his eyes widening once he saw the creature on the video feed.

Noticing Mortes’ reaction, Baker asked, “What is it?”

“That’s… a gaulus! It’s a creature with exceptional mobility and the ability to shoot explosive magic from its horns. Unfortunately, that is the extent of my knowledge. Sir Moah?”

The elf picked his memory, explaining, “If I recall correctly, the gaulus’ magic is comparable to one of your grenades or handheld rockets. The legends describe a battle between your tanks and demonic gauluses. Although the creatures were unable to pierce the armor of the tanks, they did manage to disable a few.”

“Damn. We’re gonna have to take that thing out ASAP then.” He pointed toward a pair of Nordic looking men, giving them orders, “Richardson and Eigel, take your squads and handle it. Wait for a clear shot; we can’t afford to miss if small arms prove to be ineffective. Everyone else, focus on the infantry!”

While everyone else got in position, Nakamoto kept track of the enemy’s movements. He monitored the status of the battle in dismay, watching as allied numbers dwindled. Eventually, only ten remained. “Sir, looks like their leader is talking to the survivors now.”

Baker kept his rifle aimed at the gate as he looked over toward Nakamoto’s tablet. One of the allied knights spat at the Oni leader. A subsequent explosion then rattled the gate, leaving nothing remaining of the surviving men. “Get ready!”

Another explosion rocked the gate, causing more debris to fall from the reinforced wall. Tensions raised as blasts continued to damage the gate. A final attack sent the reinforced stone gate crashing backward, crushing the makeshift barricades set up by the knights and producing a massive cloud of dust.

Bulky silhouettes appeared and marched through with confidence, only to be gunned down immediately by the Americans. Bolstered by their recent overwhelming victory and enraged by the deaths of their comrades the impulsive orc kings charged forward. In contrast, the more methodical Oni took cover behind the walls while the orc kings rushed toward their doom. The orc kings couldn’t even make it halfway to their targets before they were annihilated, staining the dirt below with green blood. The gunfire ceased as the last orc king was slain.

“Where are the Oni?” Baker asked Nakamoto.

“Still behind the wall, sir.”

“Okay. Let me know if —”

Nakamoto cut him off, “Movement!” He announced. While everyone else took aim, Nakamoto gave updates. “It’s backing up along the right side… it’s running toward the center!”

The beast jumped from the right side of the gate to the left in a quick motion as bullets whizzed past it. The nimble creature was in the Americans’ lines of fire for only a split second. Despite the marines’ quick reflexes, they were barely able to land a few minor hits on the gaulus.

“He’s testing our reaction and scouting our numbers…” Mortes muttered.

Baker kept his rifle at the ready, eyes beginning to tear up due to his refusal to blink. His heartbeat began to beat faster for every second that passed, anxiety building up the longer the gaulus remained hidden behind the walls. “Wait for a clear shot,” he reminded his men.

Their tensions culminated when the beast broke away from its stationary position by the wall and sprinted out the gates. Immediate gunfire rained down on the beast’s face, temporarily preventing it from unleashing attacks. Large caliber machine guns pierced the beast’s skin with enough lethality to hinder its mobility while small arms fire and grenades effectively suppressed it. With the gaulus distracted, Richardson and Eigel jumped on the opportunity.

The Oni general watched as a blazing trail of light emerged from a M72 LAW, rocketing toward the gaulus. A testament to his quick reflexes, he jumped off in the nick of time. He was blown away by the blast, but otherwise survived the worst of the attack, which left the gaulus a smoldering heap of scorched flesh. With a resounding clang, Bahara’s body landed several meters away.

Several seconds later, Baker and Mortes’ men were greeted by an unexpected, but welcome sight: the surrender of the remaining Oni. The obsidian knights appeared from behind the walls, their arms raised.

Puzzled by the abrupt decision, Baker stared at the surrendering knights in shock. “Hold your fire,” he ordered, raising his right hand. He then called a combat medic to help ascertain the Oni general’s status.

As he walked toward the downed general, the Oni came to a stop in an attempt to demonstrate their peaceful intentions. Nevertheless, the Americans kept their weapons trained on the group.

A low groan greeted Baker’s ears as he approached the general, followed by a request for forgiveness.

“Forgive me, Emissaries,” the Oni general said, struggling to get up.

“Identify yourself,” Baker ordered, maintaining his distance from the general.

The Oni general stared at the remains of a gem in his hand as he answered, “I am Oni general Bahara. I was controlled by the influence of this necklace,” he said, gesturing to the damaged jewelry, “until now. With my mind my own once more, I give you my unconditional surrender.” He then knelt, “Please, Emissaries, forgive me and my men for our actions. We were not ourselves.”

In the distance, a squadron of helicopters converged on the remnants of the diversionary army trapped in the Kenshiva Valley, preparing to unleash their arsenals. Baker reached for his communicator, informing the pilots to avoid targeting the Oni.

“Thank you,” Bahara said, removing his helmet and revealing a black-skinned humanoid with three horns on his head and golden eyes. “I am in your debt.”

Baker nodded before walking off and informing his superiors of the successful defense of Esperanto. An hour later, Esperanto reinforcements arrived to secure the new prisoners, preparing them for questioning.