Adrian emerged from the blinding light, tumbling to the ground with a heavy thud. The impact knocked the wind out of him, his body aching from the sudden fall. His head spun, his vision blurred, and it took several long moments for him to adjust to the harsh, overwhelming reality around him. When the dizziness finally subsided, his breath hitched as his surroundings came into terrifying focus.
A vast battlefield stretched endlessly before him—desolate, broken, and soaked in blood. The sand, once gray, was stained crimson, the scent of iron heavy in the air. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds, casting a shadow over the grim scene below. The sounds of war—clashing steel, distant screams, and the rumbling of explosions—filled the atmosphere. It was chaos. On one side, an army of horned warriors clad in black, their armor shimmering with dark magic, advanced like a relentless tide. On the other side, human soldiers fought with glowing weapons, their iron armor gilded with gold, contrasting against the enemy's black.
Adrian's heart pounded in his chest. He stood frozen in place, disbelief washing over him like a cold wave. This wasn't a dream. It wasn't a nightmare he could wake from, nor was it some hallucination brought on by stress. It was real—horribly, brutally real.
"What the hell...?" Adrian's voice trembled as he stumbled backward. His legs felt weak, barely holding him up as panic set in. He had no idea how he had gotten here, but everything in his body screamed that he didn't belong. As if to confirm his worst fear, an arrow suddenly whizzed past his head, close enough to ruffle his hair. The shock was immediate, sending adrenaline surging through his veins.
"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!" Adrian screamed, his heart hammering in his chest as he spun around, desperate to escape. He broke into a frantic run, his feet slipping in the blood-soaked sand. "Why am I even here!?"
He didn't get far before something caught his eye. Amidst the chaos of battle, a figure stood out. At the forefront of the human army was a man clad in shining silver armor, his long blonde hair flowing behind him like a banner. Even from a distance, Adrian could see the power and grace in his movements as he cut down his enemies with swift, calculated strikes. This man was more than a mere soldier—he was a leader, radiating authority and command. He was the anchor around which the human forces rallied.
Then, suddenly, as if sensing Adrian's presence, the man's piercing blue eyes locked onto him from across the battlefield. There was a brief pause before the warrior broke away from the front lines, riding towards Adrian on a magnificent steed. The ground thundered beneath the horse's hooves as it galloped across the battlefield, dodging spells and arrows with practiced ease.
"You there!" the man shouted, his voice cutting through the din of battle with ease. He pulled up his horse in front of Adrian, who stood breathless and wide-eyed. "What are you doing here? This isn't a place for civilians."
Adrian could barely find his voice. "I—I don't know... I just... ended up here," he stammered, his words barely coherent as he tried to make sense of it all.
The man's expression softened slightly, though urgency still lingered in his eyes. "You're scared, and rightly so. This battlefield is no place for someone unarmed. Come, I'll get you to safety," he said, extending a gloved hand toward Adrian.
Adrian hesitated, his mind racing with a thousand questions that he couldn't begin to articulate. But the chaos around him left little time for thought. The battle raged on, the clashing of steel and the roar of spells too close for comfort. With no other choice, he reached out and grasped the warrior's hand, his fingers trembling.
In one swift motion, the man hoisted Adrian onto the back of his horse, and they sped away from the thick of battle. Adrian clung tightly to the warrior, his body shaking as they galloped across the bloodstained sand. His mind was a blur of fear and confusion, but through it all, he managed to murmur, "Thank you... for saving me."
The man glanced over his shoulder, offering a brief but reassuring smile. "It's my duty to protect everyone, civilian or soldier. I'm the Crown Prince of Breles, after all. What's your name?"
"Adrian... Adrian Falter," he replied, his voice still shaky. The name Breles stirred something in his memory, but he couldn't place it. His thoughts were too scattered.
"Well, Adrian, let's hope you don't find yourself in such a mess again. But if you do, I'll be there," the prince said, his tone both kind and resolute.
As they rode farther from the frontlines, Adrian's grip loosened, and he allowed himself to breathe. The violence behind them still echoed in his ears—the clash of swords, the cries of pain, the eerie hum of magic—but for now, he felt safe. He looked back at the battlefield in stunned silence, watching as human soldiers clashed with the horned warriors in a gruesome dance of life and death.
His stomach twisted as he saw a particularly brutal scene unfold. A human soldier locked in combat with a horned enemy, both swinging massive broadswords with raw fury. Their strikes were wild, desperate, each trying to overpower the other. Blood sprayed as their blades found purchase in flesh. And then, with one final blow, both warriors fell to the ground, lifeless.
The sight was too much. Adrian's chest tightened, and he felt bile rise in his throat. He doubled over, retching uncontrollably until his stomach was empty. The prince slowed the horse, looking back at Adrian with concern.
"Are you alright?" the prince asked, his brow furrowed.
Adrian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his face pale. "I—I'm sorry," he gasped, his voice weak.
Before the prince could respond, a gruff laugh cut through the air. Adrian turned to see an old man standing nearby, watching him with a crooked smile. The man was grizzled and weathered, with wild white hair and a beard to match. His clothes were worn, his face marked by a long scar that spoke of countless battles fought and survived.
"What in the seven hells, lad! That's disgusting!" the old man bellowed, his laughter harsh but not unkind.
"S-sorry!" Adrian stammered, embarrassed and still reeling from the sight of death. The old man waved a hand dismissively, his expression softening.
"Ah, don't worry about it. First time seeing real battle, eh? You'll get used to it—or you won't," he said with a wink, though his tone was grim.
Adrian didn't respond, still too shaken to muster a reply. The old man extended a hand, helping him down from the horse. As Adrian steadied himself, he noticed a young female mage standing beside the old man. She was quiet, her eyes gentle as she regarded Adrian with a soft smile.
"Come with us," the mage said, her voice soothing. "We're heading back to the city."
Adrian nodded, grateful for their help but still feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened. His legs felt weak beneath him, but he forced himself to stand tall as they began walking away from the battlefield. The sounds of war faded into the distance, replaced by the triumphant cheers of the human soldiers as they drove their enemies back.
"LONG LIVE THE CROWN PRINCE!" the soldiers cried, their voices ringing out in unison as the horned army retreated.
As they neared the outskirts of the battlefield, Adrian watched in awe as the mages began casting spells, creating portals that shimmered with light. The female mage stepped forward, her hands moving gracefully as she conjured a portal of her own.
"Are you coming or not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Adrian.
He blinked, shaken from his daze. "Y-yeah, I'm coming," he muttered, following her into the swirling portal. As the battlefield disappeared behind them, Adrian couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.
But far in the distance, hidden in the shadows, a figure watched him with cold, calculating eyes. A smile curled across his lips as he whispered, "Finally, the Soaker's heir has arrived."