The crashed refugee truck.
Grand Marshal Varda casually strolled around the crashed truck, his fist punching forward in front of him as he lands blow after blow.
His body glowed with dark energy as he swung his fists mercilessly, pulverizing demons with every swing.
This isn't a bad exercise considering I just woke up a moment ago. he thought snidely, stumbling over a pile of corpses lying on the ground before he pounced towards an approaching demon.
Before it could land its attack, he smashed his fist directly into its chest, sending it flying backwards with ease.
Varda panted heavily, stumbling backwards as he landed kick after kick, knocking demons away with every step.
The demons fell apart like paper dolls under his feet as he pounded them relentlessly with his fists. He felt exhilarated as he pounded his fists into demons' chests; feeling their stony skin crack beneath his knuckles.
His mind reeled back to his days on a different battlefield altogether. Back then he was also fighting on a hell-like battlefield, battling against hordes of aliens instead. It wasn't long ago that he was just a Junior Marshal.
Back then, he strolled across the battlefield in his blue uniform, armed with nothing but his bare fists. His mission was simple - kill everything in his path until he reaches his goal, whatever it may be.
At times he encountered a powerful enemy, and he would fight them head-on. Other times, he would use his powers to take control of the battlefield, using it to his advantage.
He smiled faintly, remembering how his enemies would beg for mercy, screaming for their mothers. That was back when he was still a mortal with NanoTech enhancements. But now… He had become someone else entirely.
He is no longer a mere mortal, he had awakened after obtaining the title Grand Marshal, a rank given to those who possess exceptional strength and skill. He possessed abilities beyond anything that anyone has ever imagined possible.
"This time, it looks like we won't be coming out of this war without any casualties," He laughed to himself as he glanced over at the wrecked truck, "Now this is a good time to have fun. Warming up before the main event."
His eyes narrowed as he watched a demon stumble forward with its broken neck poking out awkwardly.
He pounced towards it instantly and pummeled it repeatedly with his fist, crushing every bone in its body. The stench of blood filled his nostrils as he stared straight into its lifeless eye sockets.
He licked his lips slowly as he savoured the scent of fresh blood, relishing it. He loved watching his enemies die violently and painfully, knowing it was for the better. Humanity's survival depended on them surviving this war, if they died, humanity itself would perish along with them.
"With this, the refugees are secured for now." He turned around, surveying the area as he spoke calmly.
He saw two soldiers standing nearby, staring blankly at the bodies scattered everywhere around them. Captain Nerissa and Lieutenant Nagrix stood beside each other, both looking completely exhausted and drained.
They held their weapons limply in their hands having rushed here to assist Grand Marshal Varda.
He smirked slightly at them before turning his gaze towards the truck behind him. Inside, rows of refugees crammed together shoulder to shoulder, clutching their possessions close to them.
He walked over to them and smiled, "How are you guys doing?"
The passengers looked at him with fear written all over their faces.
"I am sorry that this happened…" He paused for a moment, "But I promise you that these two will protect you until we can get everyone out of here."
The citizens remained silent, staring downwards with fearful expressions plastered on their faces.
"Grand Marshal Varda? Did you just take out all of the demons in the area?" Captain Nerissa asked.
"Yep. There's only a big one left, but I'll make sure to finish it off." He chuckled lightly, "And do not call me Grand Marshal Varda. Just Varda will do."
Lieutenant Nagrix nodded, "Yes sir, Varda."
He walked off towards the truck and identified a young boy who passed out on one of the benches near the front seat. He picked him up gently and cradled him in his arms, carrying him back to Block H's entrance.
***
The refugees were taken to the promised shelter. A small smile formed on their face as they strolled through the halls, seeing many people rushing back and forth carrying boxes and bags full of goods and supplies into the deeper part of The Anvil.
The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mixed with the pungent odour of burnt flesh from the destroyed demons littering the streets.
The sounds of explosions and gunfire echoed throughout the city, growing louder by the second. Smoke billowed out of buildings like thick plumes of black smoke rising from chimneys.
The citizens looked up at the sky, wondering what was happening above them.
They didn't notice that several dozen demons flew overhead towards the northeast side of the city, leaving behind swirling trails of dark dust clouds behind them.
They didn't pay attention to the fact that several hundred thousand demons marched towards The Xafiark Space Hub like a raging wave.
No one noticed that a single figure stood atop a roof overlooking the streets below him, gazing intently towards The Anvil.
He wore a white hooded robe which covered most of his body except for his muscular arms and legs wrapped in bandages.
"Varda… You have done well…"
He gripped a staff made of wood carved into intricate designs in his hands tightly. His eyes glittered brightly as they darted about the streets before focusing on one particular spot.
"The time has come…" He muttered softly, "Now I shall fulfill my duty as the saviour of our race."
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth fiercely before letting out a loud cry, "Demons! Prepare yourselves!"
His voice boomed across the streets!