Across the field ten thousand men stood watching, their shadowy figures blocking sight of the horizon. The heat was almost unbearable, and the smell of sweat and fear hung about the air like a haze. Eerily silent, not a man made a sound except for a cough here or there, and Alden had taken to listening to the breathing of the men beside him to keep himself sane.

Viscount Robert had come to them only two days before, his army battered and broken. Nearly all who returned had tasted battle, blood splattered over their clothes and faces. They made a haunting image as they joined with the regiment, eyes glazed over and focusing on nothing. With them were carriages of dead and dying men, those still alive groaning in agony from wounds and infection. Alden had done what he could, along with the other healers, even advancing his Healing Magic Skill to Rank B. Still, he watched a good many men die that day and, oddly, his Diagnosis Magic Skill had not advanced beyond Rank D.

The story, as Alden had heard it, was that the Duke’s army marched into Licester, as planned, and were met with opposition. Strong opposition. In a matter of hours they had lost half their army and retreated with their tails between their legs, marching day and night to Baron Kent’s regiment, warning of the Hilvan army nipping at their heels.

Two days later Hilvan banners were spotted by the scouts, horns were blown, and every able-bodied man and woman hurried to their positions.

Now they stood under the burning hot summer sun on a cloudless day, sweating and parched and wishing for cold rain. Neither side had moved in nearly an hour; they merely stared each other down in a contest of chicken, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Alden hoped it wouldn’t last much longer, the waiting. The tension before battle was something he’d never expected, like the worst kind of anxiety imaginable. Bowels twisting, he shivered despite the heat, wondering if today would be the day he died and resisting the niggling sensation in the back of his mind that said he would. He had been placed at the very front, the frontlines of the frontlines, with nothing to obscure his view of the enemy. Seven thousand men stood with him, yet staring across the field he felt hopelessly alone.

A horn sounded out from across the field, long and low. Death’s call. As one the enemy began to move forward, shields raised high, a rumbling wave of metal and flesh and screaming. He could feel it in the ground beneath him, an earthquake of men coming to kill him.

Another horn sounded out, Alden’s side this time, high and short. Stand, defend. Thrusting his shield forward, he bid the men under his command to do the same. In layers they formed a wall of shields three high, plunging them into darkness. The shade of their shields did nothing to combat the heat, and Alden wondered if this was bread felt in the oven.

The enemy crashed against their shield wall in a wave of bodies, the crunching of metal clear above the screams. Alden’s section of the wall held, the men behind him thrusting out with their spears. He could hear screams of pain all around as the enemy struck back.

With his own spear he thrust as well, glancing off a shield. He pulled back and thrust again, this time through a gap in the enemy’s shields. His spear sunk into something soft, and when he pulled it out he saw that it was covered in blood.

Victory

You have slain a foe!

Reward: 150xp.

Spears and swords and arrows rained down on them constantly, leaving no time to think, to plan. Every time his focus lapsed, sharp metal scraped narrowly past his head or body. Twice they drew blood. First, the tip of a spear grazed his forehead, unleashing a stream of blood. The second spear caught him in the leg, a clean hit that bore all the way through.

He knelt and yelled but kept his shield raised. With a quick thrust he caught the enemy responsible in the throat, watching as blood gurgled from the man’s mouth.

Victory

You have slain a foe!

Reward: 150xp.

Alden pulled back, switching with a fresher soldier as he attended to his leg with magic. Slow, focusing on the wound as battle raged around him proved impossible, with the men surrounding Alden being slowly pushed back by a tide of steel and flesh.

We’re losing, he thought. Goddamnit we’re losing!

He hobbled along in the river of men, making certain to keep himself out of reach of the prodding spears. Pain ebbed through his leg with every step and, in a moment that could almost be called respite, he noticed the scent of blood and death in the air, stronger than any he’d experience before. They wouldn’t last at this rate.

Further and further they were pushed back, and twice some brave foolish soul from Hilva jumped the shield wall and hacked away at the shield bearers, only to be cut down with a dozen blades, though not before creating an opening in the shield wall. Both times Alden was forced to run forward and help reform the shield wall.

Magic, damnit! Where are the mages?

If they were helping he wasn’t certain how. Not a whiff of a spell had made itself known to him since the battle began, and with a hundred spears shoved his way he didn’t have the time to look.

It would have to be his own, then.

“Fall back! Create space!”

He shouted the command again and again, hoping enough would hear it over the sound of steel smashing against steel and the shrieks of dying men. Enough had heard, it seemed, and a gap began to form between the armies.

Burning energy surged and grew, a swirling mass of power centered at his core. Alden condensed it with his will, fighting back against the maelstrom of fiery mana. With a push, he sent a ball of flame soaring across the gap.

It exploded with such force that Alden and his men were buffeted backwards by the wind, tearing the shield wall apart in places. With it soon came bits of charred flesh and metal that rained down upon them like smoldering rain. Struggling to stand, Alden knelt with shield raised, feeling the exhaustion of mana expenditure drain the strength from his limbs.

The spell had cost him nearly all of his magic and had only been possible in the first place due to advancing his Elemental Magic and Magic Control spells. Had it been two days before he wouldn’t have been able to conjure even a quarter of what he had just unleashed. It was close, too damn close for comfort.

He could taste blood in his mouth. Moving his tongue around, he felt a bulge on the side of his cheek where he had bitten it, the spot sore and bleeding still.

Alden’s breath caught in his chest. Across the field bright hot flames rose high in a circle, having carved out a space where a hundred soldiers had been. Charred remains surrounded the great raging fire, and past them were numerous men knocked to the ground, a few screaming as the fire spread over them.

Blazing wind wafted the smell of it over, sickeningly similar to burnt pork.

Victory

You have slain numerous foes!

Reward: 20480xp.

Level Up

Reward: 5 Stat Points.

Level Up

Reward: 5 Stat Points.

Level Up

Reward: 5 Stat Points.

“Shield wall!” he yelled.

Soldiers rushed to fill the gaps the blast had made, rebuilding the wall of shields in moments. The enemy remained a confused mess of dead, dying, and disoriented soldiers; they could make no sense of what was happening.

Silver gleamed from behind the rows of enemy soldiers, shining brightly in the scorching light of sun and flame. The rows parted, revealing a knight in full plate armor. In the knight's hands was the largest sword Alden had ever seen, a menacing piece of steel as long as a spear. The knight gazed at the wreckage of the frontlines, then studied the Empire’s men. He pointed with his sword, a circle of intricate purple lines appearing at its tip; a magic circle. Purple light shot forth from the magic circle, flying at incredible speed. It passed through the shield wall, striking Alden.

He lurched back and fell, expecting pain. Instead he felt nothing but the hard ground, his body aglow in a pillar of purple that shot up into the air high above. Detection magic.

“Kill the mage!” the knight yelled, voice high over the rumbling of the flames. He felt the ground shake once more as the enemy stampeded in his direction like madmen. They crashed against the wall of shields with renewed vigor, stabbing and slashing without care, a number of them attempting to climb over the wall.

Alden speared a dozen or more of them, but the horde of berserkers continued unabashed. He didn’t have the mana to spare for another blast, and even if he could his allies would be caught within its radius.

Suddenly the line of enemies retreated several steps, creating the gap anew. Alden’s stomach sank. He backed off several steps and ducked, shield high, waiting, but the bombardment of magic never came. Instead, the knight in pristine armor approached alone, sword in hand.

In a single horizontal slash the knight cut through a dozen men, his sword gliding through their shields like nothing. Screeching and scurrying, the soldiers gave way as the knight approached. Alden stood and glanced to either side and saw that he was alone.

He didn’t bother with an attack. Shield held high, he lept back and back and back as the knight approached, legs aching with every step. The air had become clouded in a black haze of choking smoke, and his eyes burned. Stepping back again he felt something hard. He turned and saw a scattering of shields held by cowering men. There was nowhere to run.

“With me!”

Jumping forward, Alden dashed towards the knight. He stabbed and felt his spear go off course— no, pulled off course. The knight had grabbed the shaft of his spear and with a quick twist snapped it to splinters.

“Die,” the knight said. He slashed with his giant sword, catching Alden’s shield and cutting straight through it. Crippling pain shot through him, so intense that it almost dragged him into unconsciousness.

It was gone. Just below the elbow there was a red bleeding stump where an arm was meant to be. Alden screamed, folding over himself as he gripped his arm.

He scrambled backward from the knight as he approached, kicking up dirt. The other soldiers did the same, pushing each other this way and that in an attempt to escape the horror of the knight’s blade. He swung it and Alden closed his eyes, but when he heard the sound of screeching metal and the unpleasantly familiar whisper of flesh being cut he opened them. Another five or so men lay dead or injured behind him.

Scurrying further backward his mind raced. It was him or the knight; one of them had to die. His mana had recovered enough for another, smaller explosion. It would kill the knight, surely.

The knight and how many others? A dozen men? Two dozen? A knight was worth a hundred conscripted soldiers at least. It would be worth it, pragmatically speaking. The right choice.

Alden rejected the right choice. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. Innocent or not, he refused to trade lives. There had to be another way.

The idea came quickly, a single image in his mind. A ludicrous plan, he didn’t even know if it would work. But he had to try.

Shoving his remaining hand forward he focused his mana, feeling as the molten sensation flowed to his arm. An orb of white energy appeared in his palm, hovering and growing like a balloon of light. He condensed it, shrinking it down to the size of a marble, the backlash bursting veins in his arm and spurting blood. He ignored the pain and condensed it more. More, more, more, he put everything he had into it, and just as his mana reached zero he unleashed it, the image of a speeding bullet clear in his mind.

The orb disappeared, and with it the knight’s sword arm at the shoulder. An instant later sound followed, a roaring boom that shook the very earth. A spray of blood fell to the ground like rain. No visor or helmet in the world could hide the man’s dismay.

“Eye for an eye, asshole,” he said.

Alden leapt to his feet, losing his balance as he took a step, then righted himself. The knight stood clutching his leaking stump, weary. With renewed vigor the knight dashed forward, flinging his armored fist toward Alden. As deadly as any mace, Alden flung himself to the ground to escape it, the steel clad fist grazing his ear. He clambered himself upright, pulling his sword from its sheath and thanking the heavens it had not been his dominant arm that had been taken.

Raising the blade high, he yelled “Together!” He had no time to check if his call had roused them. Bolting forward, he prodded at the armless knight. Like a cornered animal, the knight lashed out, narrowly striking Alden and grazing him once, the blow sending him spiraling to the ground.

He rose again to see that his allies had indeed heeded his call. With a circle of shields and spears they surrounded the lone knight, hesitant stabs doing little to harm him. It was enough to keep him cautious, however, and that was enough.

Slipping a mana potion from his knapsack, Alden downed the viscous liquid, hot tendrils shooting out from his chest. He waited only a moment for his mana to recover, then unleashed a fireball at the knight. It struck him in the side, igniting him in a tower of flames.

“Kill him now!” he yelled, and as one the soldiers thrust their spears. More than half screeched against steel armor, deflected harmlessly from their target. The rest did their duty. Slid between the gaps here and there, the spears had skewered the man like a pincusion. He flailed a moment, some of the spears breaking into splinters, then the strength left him and he fell still.

Victory

Through a mixture of bravery, quick thinking, and teamwork, you have achieved victory!

Reward: 1300xp, 5 bonus points to Intelligence, 5 bonus points to Charisma

Falling to his knees, Alden grinned as weakness took over and his consciousness began to slip. Blood loss, probably. Soldiers all around him let loose ecstatic cheers that rumbled in his chest, as if the killing of a single knight secured victory. Maybe it did. Looking up he saw bolts of fire and lightning strike air, creating a glimmer as they were repulsed. Magic shields. He hadn’t even thought of that.

A handful of soldiers lifted him up and carried him, hastily making their way through the crowd, each passerby giving him a congratulatory pat. Grinning, the last thing Alden remembered was his feet dragging in the grass behind him and a faint sound. Quiet, at first, like the subtle charge of electricity. Then he heard a blast as loud as the heaven’s falling upon the earth, and everything went dark.