Chereads / Shadows Of Frost / Chapter 5 - The Commander

Chapter 5 - The Commander

Powerlessness is a desolate wasteland. Anyone stronger can claim what's yours, and there's little recourse. Power is the universal desire, our shield against helplessness. I believed we were invincible, masters of our domain. A delusion shattered when confronted with true, overwhelming power. It didn't merely take; it devoured, consuming everything in its path. I was a feast, and it was insatiable, leaving behind only the barren husk of grief.

(Power and Grief) Excerpt from the Lamentations of the Vanquished

JOVIAN

The Commander

 

The cold air of the battlefield grew heavier, thick with tension and a sense of wrongness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The sight before me sent a chill down my spine.

A vast, meticulously ordered force of the Obsidian Empire approached, their jet-black armor gleaming ominously despite the heavy snowfall. The rhythmic thud of their march, the clinking of armor, and their unfamiliar formations created a palpable sense of impending doom among my troops and me. An unsettling aura seemed to emanate from them, a dark power that twisted the air around them and filled me with a foreboding dread.

The enemy's commander I deduced was a towering figure draped in jet-black armor. He exuded an aura of cold confidence, each step he made was assuredly and unhurried. His armor was finely crafted, with sharp, angular pauldrons that gave him an even more imposing silhouette. His helm, obscured most of his face but left his piercing dark eyes visible. His presence was like a dark specter on the battlefield, as his forces gathered around and behind him.

He moved with predatory grace, his calculating gaze scanning the chaos. There was something otherworldly about him, a latent power that seemed to warp the very air around him. When his gaze met mine, an icy dread gripped my heart, A tremor ran through me, every nerve screaming for me to run, but my legs felt rooted to the ground, heavy and unyielding. A cold sweat broke out across my skin, and my breath caught in my throat, as if the very air had turned to stone.

Suddenly, arrows blotted out the sky as they rained down on my soldiers and me. Despite the low visibility, their impact was immediate and devastating. I ducked and wove through the rain of arrows, my armor taking some of the blows.. An arrow whizzed past my ear, the sound so close that it seemed to echo inside my helm. Another arrow slammed into my side, sending a jarring impact through my ribs and causing me to stagger back. The force of the hit jarred me, knocking the breath from my lungs and leaving a painful throb in its wake.

Around me, soldiers staggered and fell, their cries abruptly silenced as the arrows struck them. The Empire skirmishers, swift and lethal, moved to outflank our forces, aiming to cut off any chance of our retreat. Meanwhile, the infantry advanced steadily. Each step they took seemed to increase the weight of their presence, their formation moving as one solid, impenetrable mass, promised an inevitable arrival of an overwhelming force.

Panic clawed at my thoughts as I realized we would be wiped out if we remained here, pinned under the relentless assault. "Fall back!" I roared, my voice nearly drowned out by the carnage.

Before we could, the enemy infantry pounced on us, their ranks crashing into our disarray like a battering ram. Bodies slammed into me, and I lost my balance and was thrown to the ground. I tried to get up but the weight of men pressed me down, crushing the breath from my lungs. Someone's boot smashed into my ribs as they stumbled over me, pain flared through my side, sharp and searing. I gritted my teeth, fighting against the urge to cry out. My vision blurred for a moment, pain accompanied each shallow breath I tried to take. The clashing of steels, the screams of the dying, the pain in my ribcage—it was all too much. I struggled to stay conscious, My hands clawed at the snow-filled ground, struggling to find purchase, to push myself up. But the tide of bodies kept coming. Just as I managed to stagger to my feet, another wave hit, nearly knocking me to the ground again. I raised my sword, an opponent came at me with a savage roar, their blade slashing through the snowflakes that fell like silent witnesses to the carnage. Snowflakes swirled around us, catching the glint of steel as their blade sliced through the air. I met the strike with a jarring clang, the force of it reverberating down my arm. The clash sent us both stumbling back.

He was strong, precise, and relentless—every strike fatal if I let it hit. He came at me again, but this time, I let the momentum of his attack carry him forward, sidestepping just as his blade sliced through the air where I had been. Off balance, he faltered for a split second, enough for me to move in. I kicked his knee out from under him, forcing him down. Before he could recover, I drove frostbite through his chest, the steel biting deep. His blood splattered against my armor. A shudder ran through him as his strength ebbed, his final breath escaping in a feeble, choked gasp., as I twisted the blade and pulled it free.

Before I could catch my breath, another enemy charged at me, this one larger and more formidable, wielding a great sword. The force behind his attack rattled my bones as I parried, sent me down to one knee. He swung his greatsword again, slicing through the air, parting the falling snow in a visible arc, as if the very wind recoiled from the blade's path. No time to think, only to react. I arched backward, feeling the rush of air as the greatsword sliced through the space where my head had been. He continued to attack me but I kept dodging, letting my instincts guide me, waiting for the moment when his wide swings would leave him exposed.

It came sooner than expected. As his great sword swept down in a broad arc, I stepped inside the swing, driving my sword upwards with all the strength I could muster. Blood sprayed into the air, warm and viscous against the cold as his decapitated head fell to the ground.

Amidst the carnage, a primal clarity took hold of my mind, sharpened by the frenzy of battle. I fought with unrestrained ferocity, each movement driven by raw survival—elbows, knees, and the rugged terrain beneath my feet.

I slammed my boot into an enemy's groin, his strangled howl cut short as he doubled over, clutching at his shattered balls. Before he could react, I yanked his head back by the hair and drove frostbite upward, my sword carving through his open mouth and piercing up into his skull.

Another opponent lunged at me with a snarl, but I sidestepped his clumsy attack and swept his legs out from under him with a swift kick. He hit the ground with a thud, struggling to rise. I didn't give him a chance. Planting my boot on his helmet, I pressed down with brutal force, my weight and the ferocity of the moment causing his skull to crack beneath my heel.

In a rare, fleeting lull amidst the carnage, I staggered back, my sword slick with blood. My breath was ragged, each inhale sharp with the acrid scent of battle. Through the swirling chaos, I caught sight of Marcia. In the chaos of battle, Marcia stood out like a beacon. Marcia moved like a living embodiment of elegance and fury. Her snow-white hair, unbound and flowing wildly with her every move. Her physique, powerful and lithe, seemed to gracefully glide across the battlefield, despite the brutal, muddied scene around her. There was a beauty in the relentless of her sword precision. She cut through enemy forces with terrifying ease. Even as the situation grew dire, she fought on, her eyes remained sharp and unyielding.

As I forced myself to pull away from the captivating sight of Marcia's combat artistry, my gaze shifted to the edge of the battlefield. There, amidst the swirling snow and chaos, stood the enemy commander. He remained detached from the carnage, an eerie calm enveloped him as he observed the conflict with unsettling detachment. His imposing presence was like a dark shadow looming over the battlefield. His eyes, cold and piercing, met mine across the carnage, sending a shiver down my spine.. His gaze held a calculated intensity, a predatory focus that seemed to dissect every move I made, like a hunter sizing up its prey.

Without warning, the enemy commander sprang into action. He surged toward me with a blinding speed, a blur of black steel and shadows. His movements were so impossibly swift that my eyes struggled to keep up, each stride a mere flicker in my vision. Clutched in his hands were a pair of obsidian knives, their surfaces darker than the void of a moonless night, as if they absorbed light. The knives seemed to drink in the surrounding darkness, coated with dark flames that flickered like the abyss itself. He wielded them with a predatory grace. His posture suggested a man utterly confident in his abilities, a confidence reinforced by the unmoving sword at his hip.

In an instant, he was upon me. His assault was a ruthless symphony of slashes and stabs, each strike a blinding flash of movement. The obsidian knives darted through the air with lethal precision, their dark flames flickering like whispers of death. Each stroke was a blur, guided by an almost preternatural will, carving through the air and my defenses with a chilling, calculated ease. His first strike cut across my chest, the blade slicing through armor and flesh and muscle with a searing heat that made my chest feel like molten iron. Blood welled up instantly, hot and sticky, seeping through my armor, down my legs and into the snow beneath me.

Before I could react, another knife slashed my upper arm, sending a wave of burning agony through my body. The wound felt as though it was being seared with every heartbeat, each pulse intensifying the pain. My vision blurred, every breath a struggle as I fought to stay upright against his relentless assault. The pain was intense, and I found myself pushed to the brink of collapse, unable to keep up with his furious pace.

Just as the darkness of his blades was about to claim me, Marcia erupted into the fray. Her entrance was a sudden, explosive force, and she barreled herself between me and the commander with a fierce, protective urgency. Her unbound snow-white hair whipped around her like a tempest as she moved. With a guttural cry, Marcia slammed her hand into the frozen earth. The ground heaved violently beneath her touch, and a massive chunk of ice and soil erupted upward. It soared through the air, crashing into the commander and momentarily disrupting his relentless assault. The impact sent him staggering back, his dark blades momentarily knocked off course as the debris scattered across the battlefield. Marcia didn't hesitate.

She charged at the commander, her fury a brilliant contrast to his cold, calculated menace.. Her sword became a blur of silver, cutting through the air with relentless precision. The ground beneath her feet seemed to quake with each powerful swing, and her attacks drove deep furrows into the snow and ice, the impact shattering the terrain and scattering soldiers like leaves in a violent storm.

The commander fought to regain his footing, his dark blades wavering as Marcia's strength pushed him back, her fury a brilliant contrast to his cold, calculated menace. Her attacks were fierce and precise, each strike aimed at exploiting the vulnerabilities in the commander's defense. She moved with a grace and power that far surpassed my own, her blade a shimmering arc of defiance against his dark might. For a moment, it seemed as though she might turn the tide.

But the commander was not easily vanquished. Forced back by Marcia's relentless assault, he staggered briefly, then straightened, his eyes narrowing with a deadly resolve. With a deliberate motion, he sheathed his knives, the ground trembling as the air around him seemed to flicker and warp. Slowly, he unsheathed his sword, the blade erupting with dark flames that danced menacingly along its edge. Lightning crackled around his form, the power surging through him like a storm unleashed.

In a sudden, devastating onslaught, he charged at Marcia, his sword a blur of dark fire and crackling energy. Each strike was a brutal symphony of power and precision, tearing through her defenses with merciless ease. The force of his blows sent shockwaves through the ground, the terrain buckling under their ferocity. Marcia fought back with all her strength, her face set in a grim mask of determination, but the commander's overwhelming might proved too much.

With a vicious slash across her chest, the commander's blade lifted Marcia off the ground, the force of the impact sending her crashing into the snow. The blow was so powerful that it left a deep depression in the frozen earth where she landed. Marcia tried to rise, determination etched into every line of her face, but the commander wouldn't let her. With a cold, calculated move, he planted his foot on her chest, shoving her back down into the snow, pinning her beneath his weight. The ground seemed to groan beneath the pressure, as if the very earth felt the impending doom.

Raising his sword high, the blade still crackling with dark flames and seething energy, the commander drove it down into her chest. The impact was so forceful that the ground beneath her cracked open, deep fissures spiderwebbing out from where the blade met her body, as if the earth itself was fracturing under the weight of the blow. The dark flames consumed her armor, the searing heat causing her to squirm beneath him.

Despite the agony, she did not scream, her body writhing in silent defiance as the fire scorched her flesh. The commander pressed down harder, the flames licking at her skin, burning through her resolve until all that remained was the stillness of death.

As the flames finally subsided, leaving her body marred and lifeless, the commander stepped back, his sword still glowing with the remnants of the dark energy. Marcia's eyes, once fierce with determination, stared blankly at the stormy sky. The ground beneath her seemed to shudder, as if the very earth mourned her death, the snow embracing her in a cold, silent grief.

The commander stood over her, his expression cold and devoid of emotion. Then his gaze swept over the carnage with a chilling, unfazed calm. When his eyes finally locked onto me, there was a dark satisfaction in his stare, as if he were already savoring the thrill of the next prey. His stance and the eerie calm that surrounded him conveyed an unsettling certainty: I was to be his next conquest.