Before the battle began, Kara gathered 200 Hunnic riders and gave them a critical order. "If there's a large breakout attempt from the camp, head them off and create chaos. Use your torches and set everything on fire, use your whistle arrows, make them believe you are more in numbers" he commanded. The riders, eager to prove their worth, listened intently, knowing the gravity of the task at hand.
As the night's darkness blanketed the enemy camp, Kara emerged silently from the bushes. Each of his steps was measured, his massive frame moving with a deliberate, predatory grace. In one hand, he wielded a massive two-handed maul, a weapon that had tasted blood and broken bones countless times. In the other, a throwing axe glinted in the faint light. Draped across his broad shoulders was a bear pelt, giving him the appearance of a beast from the wilds. His hood was drawn, casting shadows over his eyes, which burned with fierce determination.
Behind him, the archers waited in tense silence, their arrows nocked and ready. Some had already lit their arrows, the flames flickering as they awaited Kara's signal. The plan was simple: create chaos, ignite the camp, and turn the enemy's confidence into panic.
Kara moved slowly, his massive figure emerging from the darkness like a phantom. He could see the four guards at the camp's entrance, their movements sluggish and unsteady. They had been drinking heavily, their confidence bolstered by their superior numbers. They had no idea that death was walking toward them.
With a silent command, Kara raised his hand. In an instant, the night air was filled with the deadly whisper of arrows. The guards barely had time to react before the first wave struck them. Their eyes widened in shock as they crumpled to the ground, they were hit with arrows and when they regained their focus they saw a mystrous man coming from the woods.
As the guards ducked down, they saw the flaming arrows flew upon them. Flaming arrows began to catch, spreading rapidly through the tents. The camp, once a place of revelry, was now a scene of growing chaos.
Kara advanced, his steps fast and deliberate, his bear pelt swaying with each movement. As Kara approached, the guard soldiers at the entrance , their drunken stupor giving way to horror as they saw him—a giant of a man, his hooded figure backlit by the spreading flames.
One of the guards, struggling to comprehend the scene, saw Kara and froze, terror gripping his heart. Kara met his gaze, a grim smile curling beneath his hood. Without breaking stride, he hurled his throwing axe. It flew through the air and embedded itself deep into the guard's chest, the force knocking him off his feet.
The other guards, now fully aware of the threat, tried to rally. But Kara was upon them. He swung his maul in a wide arc, the massive weapon cleaving through flesh and bone with terrifying ease. Each swing of the maul was followed by a sickening crunch as bodies crumpled under the sheer force of his blows. Those who were struck did not rise again their bodies were later crushed by horses.
Wolfram and others was watching in shock as Kara single-handedly decimated 4 soldiers in mere seconds. Nothing was left for them. Kara turned to them, his voice booming over the crackle of flames and the rising din of the camp. "What now? Do you plan to just watch me? Forward, now!"
His words snapped them out of their stupor. With a roar, the Hunnic riders and foot soldiers surged forward, pouring into the camp like a tide of death. The guards who had tried to muster a defense were quickly overwhelmed, their weapons clattering to the ground as they were cut down.
The camp erupted into chaos. Mounted archers loosed flaming arrows into the tents, setting them ablaze. Foot soldiers hurled torches, igniting anything that would burn. The once orderly camp was now a battleground of confusion and panic, the air filled with the screams of the dying and the shouts of the attackers.
Soldiers, still groggy from drink, stumbled from their tents, their armor half-donned, and weapons hastily grabbed. But they were no match for the disciplined assault of Kara's forces. Those who tried to fight were swiftly cut down, their uncoordinated strikes easily parried by the experienced Hunnic warriors.
As the battle raged on, Kara and Wolfram pushed deeper into the camp, nearing the command tents at the center. The sounds of battle reached the ears of the high commanders, who, believing it to be a minor skirmish, dismissed the noise and attempted to return to their sleep. But the chaos only grew, and soon they realized the gravity of the situation.
In the command tent, one of the knights—a man of considerable rank and renown—finally donned his plate armor with the help of his servants. Grabbing his sword and shield, he stepped out into the fray, rallying the remaining soldiers. "With me! We'll push them back!" he shouted, trying to instill courage in his men as they moved to confront Kara and his forces.
But Kara was unstoppable. As the knight led his men forward, Kara met him head-on. The knight raised his shield, bracing himself for the impact. Kara's maul came down with a force that could split mountains. The shield shattered under the blow, the knight's arm buckling under the impact. Before the knight could react, Kara's maul came crashing down again, this time striking the knight's helmet.
The steel crumpled like tin, and the knight's head was crushed under the massive force. His lifeless body slumped to the ground, the sight sending waves of fear through the remaining soldiers.
Kara stood over the fallen commander, his chest heaving as he turned to the stunned soldiers around him. "Now," he snarled, "finish them!"
Meanwhile, the chaos Kara had planned unfolded perfectly. As the enemy soldiers attempted to flee the camp, they were met by the Hunnic riders, who were waiting with lit torches. The riders darted around the perimeter, tossing their torches and setting more fires, creating the illusion of an overwhelming army encircling the camp. Panic spread like wildfire among the enemy ranks. Time to time archers would shot whistle arrows to confuse already shocked soldiers.
Amidst the confusion, Kara continued his relentless advance into the camp. Wolfram fought beside him, his spiked mace and large shield making him a formidable force. Clad in the armor given to him by his grandfather back in İstanbul before the festival, he looked every bit the Nordic warrior. Wolfram swung his mace with precision, cutting down enemies left and right, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. The enemy soldiers were so shocked and disorganized that it felt almost too easy, as if they were not worthy opponents.
As Kara and Wolfram pushed further into the camp, they came face to face with two knights who had managed to don their armor. The four warriors locked eyes, understanding that this would be a true test of their skill. Without hesitation, Wolfram charged forward, raising his shield as he barreled into one of the knights, knocking him to the ground. Kara tried to stop his reckless charge but it was too late. The two grappled in the mud, their weapons slipping from their grasp as they struggled for control. But Wolfram was already committed, wrestling the knight into the muck. The second knight, seizing the opportunity, raised his sword and moved to strike Wolfram from behind. Kara, sensing the danger, reacted instantly. He surged forward, swinging his maul with all his might. The weapon connected with the second knight just as he was about to stab Wolfram, the force of the blow sending the knight flying over Wolfram and crashing into the mud. Kara didn't stop. He stormed forward, stepping over the knight that Wolfram had tackled. With a single, powerful swing, he brought his maul down, crushing the knight's helmet and ending the fight. Meanwhile, Wolfram, muddy and bruised, found his spiked mace and drove it into the head of the knight beneath him couple times, finishing the job. Panting, Wolfram looked up at Kara, who towered over him, a grin spreading across his face. Kara glanced down at his mud-covered companion and chuckled, "Don't even think about hugging me after this"
After defeating the two knights, Kara reached down and pulled Wolfram to his feet. They both paused for a moment, catching their breath as they looked back at the soldiers behind them. Kara then turned and gave a clear command: "Drive them to the river!"
With renewed vigor, they began pushing the enemy forces toward the river, their soldiers following closely behind, cutting down anyone who tried to resist. The chaos in the camp was absolute, with fires raging and the panicked cries of soldiers filling the air.
Meanwhile, the commanders who had finally emerged from their tents, seeing the advancing forces and the disorder in the camp, made a desperate decision. Believing that a massive enemy army was waiting outside the camp, they ordered their remaining troops to head for the river, hoping to escape across it.
However, as they approached the camp's exit, they saw their own soldiers fleeing in terror, while Hunnic riders fired whistling arrows that cut through the night. The sound of the arrows, combined with the sight of the retreating soldiers, convinced the commanders that a vast army was waiting for them outside. With no other option, they decided to make a desperate run for the river, hoping to cross it and escape.
The soldiers, driven by fear and confusion, began to crowd towards the riverbank, unaware that they vastly outnumbered their attackers. For every ten of them, only one enemy soldier was needed to drive them back. Despite the small number of attackers, the panic-stricken soldiers believed they were being overwhelmed by a much larger force.
As they reached the river, the cold, dark water and the strong current proved too much for many of the soldiers. In their desperation to escape, they threw themselves into the river, only to be swept away by the freezing water. The darkness of the night made it impossible to see clearly, and one by one, the soldiers were pulled under, drowning in the icy depths.
Some of the soldiers, seeing the futility of trying to cross the river, dropped their weapons and surrendered. They looked up and saw Kara standing before them, his massive maul drenched in blood, his body covered in grime and gore. Beside him, Wolfram stood, his armor smeared with mud, his spiked mace stained with the blood of their enemies.
As the first light of dawn began to break, casting a pale glow over the battlefield, Kara glanced at the defeated soldiers. He then turned slowly to the left, his expression unreadable. The sun was beginning to rise, signaling the end of the battle and the start of a new day.