Reynar was a privileged youth, beloved by the Spirit of Light from an early age. He was always at the top of his class, his age group, and his academy. At the age of four, he held his first sword, and at eight, his first wand.
He was the first prince and heir to a small kingdom, a place now on everyone's lips as it was where the heroes were summoned. He felt proud and was even told he could leave and be exempted from war as a reward for his kingdom's achievements, but that was not what the young boy in his late teens wanted.
As he grew and joined the military, memories of the past haunted him. Six years ago, he had witnessed the fall of one of the largest kingdoms. He had been sent to aid the empire, which had called for reinforcements during a battle between the three largest forces on the continent.
During that time, the empire called upon all those under its influence, as well as its allies, to battle against the powerful Burgia and Zelthy Kingdoms. These two great kingdoms had succumbed to the demonic forces later after this great battle.
It was revealed that this was all part of a cunning plan to weaken the power of both nations, allowing the demons to initiate an unimpeded invasion while the soldiers were out fighting.
This led to the First Great War, which ended in a stalemate. Those who were tricked returned only to find their homes in ruins, and many were killed, along with numerous small countries.
The demons took over half of the continent through these tactics. As for Reynar, he decided to stay to give his soldiers hope. He felt that leaving would undermine everything he had accomplished so far.
Today, the war had reached the border of the empire, a place every small kingdom wanted to protect to prevent the battle from reaching their own territories.
In the distance, long-range magic was used, and he could see how it struck the empire's defensive arrays, causing tremors that made everyone rush out of their tents to witness the frightening spectacle.
The empire's mages were preparing to return fire with their own long-range spells when a large explosion erupted within one of the allied army's tents. Soldiers quickly began to mobilize, their movements swift and coordinated.
Reynar readied himself, donning his armor and gripping his long sword trying to stop his trembling hand.
It was rare, but sometimes crazed monsters emerged from the forest, blue and pale, ready to explode on contact. Today, the monsters seemed alarmingly close to his area. When one exploded, more would emerge, creating a deadly chain reaction.
"Your Highness Reynar! Let's go, the attack is from the east this time. They seem to be coming in hordes, so ready a shield," one of his close aides called out.
He readied his antimagic shield that had protected him from various previous attacks. The monsters this time seemed to be a type of wolf monster; they were larger than normal wolves, with glowing red eyes and dark blue fur.
Their growls and howls filled the air, sending shivers down the spines of the soldiers.
A horn resounded from the area where the battle would take place, attracting most of the monsters with the sounds produced by the magical instrument. Everyone was ready.
Reynar settled himself on top of his mount, a thoroughbred Breeze Roc—one of his kingdom's best—which his father had gifted him before leaving for the war.
His armored bird was given antimagic armor like his shield, essential for Reynar to charge. Deciding on a large pike to kill from afar, he began gathering his own troops.
Imbuing power into a tool for speaking, he called out to his three top generals, one of them his mentor, Lord Harris who was the real commander in his camp, before addressing the whole platoon. "Set, ready!"
The generals nodded, their faces determined. The troops quickly formed into their designated units, prepared to face the oncoming horde. Reynar felt a surge of pride and responsibility as he watched his soldiers ready themselves for battle.
"Stay strong and hold the line!" he commanded, his voice echoing across the camp. "We fight for our kingdom, for our people!"
The Breeze Roc beneath him ruffled its feathers, sensing the fluctuations of mana in the air. With a deep breath, Reynar raised his pike, signaling the beginning of the charge. The troops followed his lead, moving forward with a coordinated precision honed through countless battles.
"Charge!" Prince Reynar yelled with the most commanding voice he could muster, letting his mount rush forth at top speed. His cavalry followed behind, while the militia ran using either magic to propel themselves forward or tools to hasten their speed.
The clash between humans and monsters happened almost instantly. In a world where magic reigned supreme, battles were brutal, and only the strongest survived.
Reynar's pike pierced the first of the wolf monsters, its dark blood splattering across his armor. The creature let out a pained howl before collapsing.
A special group within the army was responsible for creating dark voids to remove corpses, using either transport spells or void spells that devoured the dead remains, whether beast or human.
This was a war where humans who died had no place for a proper burial. A new tactic used by demons made even corpses explode, something that had caused many casualties before a solution was devised.
Around him, his troops engaged in fierce combat. Magic spells lit up the battlefield, and the sounds of clashing weapons and roaring monsters filled the air. Reynar's focus was unwavering as he fought, his mind sharp and his movements precise.
As the battle raged on, he could see his generals leading their respective units with skill and courage. His mentor, in particular, was a beacon of strength and leadership, inspiring the soldiers around him as well as the young man.
Another sound of the great horn was heard just as they were finishing with the first wave, this one made in three bursts signaling a retreat to reorganize.
"Reynar, let's recall the troops. Something bigger is coming, we need to be ready!" Sir Harlok roared as many of their soldiers were still scattered about.
"Retreat! Raise the flag, we need to retreat!" Reynar called out, using his magic tool. The area had many craters and uneven surfaces, and was so full of blood and corpses that it caused even his mount to struggle to run.
After most of the army returned to a safe spot, the mages set the battlefield ablaze from afar. It was one of many tactics to slow the next wave, and with the explosions the bodies caused, it made for an effective strategy.
Sadly, it also took the lives of any soldiers who could not make it back.
"What are we facing next, Ermond? We need a field report!" Reynar called out to his logistics team's leader, a bald man known for his ingenious way of using wind magic—some even rebranded his magic as sound magic.
"Four Tusk Grav-Wools, about thirty of them. Some have demons as riders. This might not be a typical fight; they have finally invaded these lands. It's the first time the demons have come out," Ermond replied, his voice dry.
"How did they get so many? I bet there aren't even more than five in all my territory. We need to change strategy. Bring me my bow! We will need to aim for soft spots. Get the mages ready; swords and short-ranged weapons will be useless here!" Lord Harris called out, seriously wondering why he had not sent the first prince back, even after having finished teaching him everything he knew.
"Prince, we will need at least ten of us to ride out to keep the monsters at bay. It seems there are at least five hundred soldiers from all the kingdoms who will be sent out on this mission. I will lead our own; you need to stay here this time, do you hear?" Lord Harris tried using his commanding voice to deter the prince from going.
"No, I will also—" Reynar tried to say.
"You will do no such thing. Your father asked me to personally stop you if it came to these situations. And don't worry, I won't be dying here yet; this war is just starting, kid," Lord Harris assured the young boy.
"Fine, be careful, mentor." Reynar tried his best to mask his frustration and worry, knowing his mentor's wisdom was worth heeding.
As soon as they settled the matter, rumbles could be felt. The forest on the enemy's side split as large mammoth-like creatures emerged. These beasts had four tusks and a large, muscular chest, with arms that looked like those of a gorilla.
They charged forth, slapping away bodies that stumbled toward the fire. The handlers quickly began using water magic to clear the flames.
Reynar, like many long-distance attackers, started charging either arrows or magic, aiming for the Four Tusk Grav-Wools' eyes or the ends of their muscle tissue. Some bold archers and mages targeted the heart or throat, trying to pierce the most vital areas.
The sounds of battle filled the air as arrows and magic missiles soared through the sky, striking and killing the first of the Grav-Wools.
Some found their mark, hitting eyes, muscle tissue, hearts, and throats, causing the beasts to howl in pain. The demon handlers' water magic worked to extinguish the flames, creating a clearer battlefield.
Reynar focused his energy, charging a powerful spell to empower his arrow. He aimed at a particularly large Grav-Wool, hoping to take it down and create a ripple effect among the enemy ranks. As his magic reached its peak, he released the bowstring with a forceful gesture.
The spell hit its target, causing the monster to stagger and fall. The arrow continued its path, hitting two others behind it and creating chaos within the enemy ranks.
Seeing their leader's success, the troops gained a surge of confidence. They pressed forward, using their combined efforts to pressure the large monsters.
Lord Harris, leading the cavalry, skillfully maneuvered his mount and lance, taking down weakened enemies or going straight for the mages who controlled the beasts.
The battle was fierce, but Reynar's strategy and the bravery of his soldiers began to turn the tide. Each Grav-Wool defeated was a step closer to securing their position and protecting their kingdom. Reynar knew they could not afford to falter; the stakes were too high.
Despite the chaos, Reynar's mind remained sharp. He called out commands, directing his troops with precision. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of burning flesh, but he stood resolute, a beacon of hope for his men and other kingdoms' soldiers.
When fewer than five of the great beasts were left, Reynar began to falter. His strength had long given out, but he knew that his job was done. The rest could be handled by the empire's elite, who always took the best part.
Reynar took a moment to catch his breath. He watched as wyverns took to the skies and used large magical stakes to finish off the leftovers.
The sour mood of all the troops changed to one of bliss, as everyone cheered for the victory.
As for Prince Reynar, he thought about his land.
"How long will we last… Father, mother, sisters… I hope you never have to face these challenges. For now, we can celebrate, but who knows what tomorrow may bring…"