Chapter 17: A Hill of Corpses
I've lost count of how many attempts I've made, each one a grueling failure. The first trial remained an unyielding obstacle. Though I hadn't yet conquered it, my swordsmanship had grown sharper with every punishing moment spent in this unrelenting purgatory.
I stared at the timer floating in my vision: [Retry available in: 00:00:04…]
This time, I'd succeed.
But as much as I clung to stubborn resolve, repeating the same actions had brought only the same result. If I wanted to prevail, I had to adapt.
The landscape shifted around me, the tranquil fields dissolving into the familiar charred battlefield. Smoke and ash hung in the air as the specter of the commander shouted at me. His voice, always the same:
"Get your hea—"
Before he could finish, I turned, blade flashing. It cleaved through his skull with brutal efficiency, splitting it in two. Crimson blood spattered across my face, warm and metallic. The soldiers froze, their expressions shifting from disbelief to horror.
In their eyes, I was no longer their comrade. I was a traitor.
"Soldiers!" I barked, my voice cutting through the stunned silence. My gaze swept over their weary, blood-streaked faces. "Pull back to the hill! Now!"
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, slowly, as though the weight of confusion was dragging their feet, they obeyed. It was a gamble, but I had seen it in my past attempts: the hill was a vantage point, one that could shift the tide of battle.
The archers were the first to reach the top. Their bows creaked as they notched arrows, their movements hesitant but practiced. The enemy's war cries echoed across the field, growing louder as the Demon King's forces surged forward.
"FIRE!" I roared, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of war.
Arrows rained down, striking the advancing horde. Demonic beasts fell, their twisted forms collapsing under the relentless barrage. The charred earth grew slick with their dark blood.
"Swordsmen! Raise your shields and hold the line!"
The front ranks lifted their shields, creating a wall of iron and resolve. The ground trembled as the enemy closed in, their monstrous forms charging with wild abandon.
Standing at the forefront, I gripped my blade tightly. Its familiar weight was a silent reminder of the countless battles I'd fought, and lost. The blade had become an extension of my will, a symbol of my determination.
In the fleeting moments before the clash, I turned to the soldiers behind me. Their eyes mirrored the desperation of men who fought for more than survival, they fought for loved ones, for homes, for hope.
"Soldiers!" I shouted, my voice sharp and commanding. "Today we fight not for glory, not for riches, but for those we hold dear! For the ones waiting for us to return!"
The words rang hollow in my heart. I had no one. No family. No loved ones waiting for me. But I fought because I had to. I fought because failure was no longer an option.
"CHARGE!"
My roar split the air as I surged forward, blade raised high. Behind me, the soldiers followed, their own cries of battle rising in a deafening chorus.
The clash of armies was chaos incarnate. Steel met flesh, bodies fell like leaves in a storm, and the battlefield became a grotesque tapestry of death. My blade danced through the carnage, each swing precise and merciless.
Blood sprayed in dark arcs as I cut through wave after wave of enemies. My movements were a relentless rhythm, a macabre dance of death.
Then I saw it: a troll, towering above the battlefield. Its brutish form carved a path of destruction, its massive club smashing soldiers like insects.
Its eyes locked onto me.
The battlefield blurred as I charged. The troll swung its club, the air splitting with the force of the blow. I slid beneath its legs, the blood-soaked ground slick beneath me. My blade flashed, severing its legs at the ankles.
The beast toppled with a thunderous crash. Before it could recover, I climbed onto its back and drove my blade into its throat, twisting the steel until the light faded from its eyes.
Another troll charged toward me. Seizing a nearby spear, I hurled it with all my strength. The weapon struck true, piercing its chest. As the creature stumbled, I leapt, closing the distance. My blade tore through its abdomen, spilling its entrails onto the ground.
The troll fell, clawing futilely at its own wounds before succumbing to death.
The battle raged on. Bodies piled high, blood pooling into rivers. The air was thick with the stench of death and the cries of the dying. Yet, against all odds, we prevailed.
The Demon King's forces broke, retreating into the smoke. Victory was ours, though it came at a terrible cost.
I stood amidst the carnage, my armor drenched in blood. My blade, once black, was now a slick crimson. Around me, the survivors wept, their faces etched with grief and exhaustion. Some clutched the bodies of fallen comrades; others stared blankly, their spirits broken.
The translucent screen appeared before me:
[First Trial Completed]
[Details: In a brutal slaughter, the humans emerge victorious. The survivors live to fight another day.]
[Progression: 100/100%]
[Second Trial available in: 23:59:57…]
The battlefield dissolved, replaced by the serene expanse of the Field of Blades. I exhaled deeply, letting the weight of victory settle over me.
My gaze shifted to the stone statues scattered across the field. One of the weapons held by a statue crumbled to dust. So, that's what these represent, each trial a fragment of something greater.
I collapsed onto the ground, my blade resting beside me. The stillness of the sky above was almost mocking, a stark contrast to the chaos I had just endured.
As I stared into the endless blue, I couldn't help but wonder: what fresh hell awaited me in the next trial?