The forest edge gave way to the clearing that surrounded the village, its crude walls looming in the faint moonlight. The 1st Dark Marine Forces crept silently through the underbrush, their invisibility maintained by Umbral Veil. Serena led them, her crimson eyes sharp as ever, scanning the scene ahead. The bandits' disarray was evident—shouts echoed faintly through the air as they scrambled to reinforce their poorly fortified gate.
Serena raised a hand, signaling her troops to halt. They crouched low, hidden within the shadows, their breathing barely audible as they awaited her command. She took a slow breath, her lips moving silently as she cast Bloodbound Covenant, her modified Minor Regeneration spell. The magic spread like a ripple, unseen to the enemy but felt by her Marines as a faint warmth in their veins. The spell would ensure that any wounds they sustained would be transferred to her, leaving them unburdened by injury.
"Your bodies will remain unbroken," Serena murmured, her voice low, though her Marines could feel the weight of her conviction. "Whatever happens tonight, trust that I will bear the cost. Focus only on your duty."
Her hand rose again, this time clenching into a fist, signaling them to prepare for the charge. As they reached the gate, Serena placed her palm on the cool, rough stone of the wall, her magic thrumming with raw energy. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice rang out with thunderous authority.
"Oblivion Surge!" she roared, unleashing the spell.
The magic erupted from her hand like a tidal wave, a dark energy laced with crackling arcs of violet lightning. The iron gates didn't just shatter—they disintegrated, fragments of metal scattering like ash in the wind. The stone walls around the entrance crumbled under the force, collapsing into jagged rubble that spilled into the village. Dust and debris filled the air as her Marines braced against the shockwave, their expressions alight with awe and resolve.
From within the chaos, Serena's voice cut through like a blade. "SLAUGHTER THEM ALL! IF THEY TAKE UP ARMS, PUT THEM DOWN!"
The bandits froze, their fear palpable as the weight of her words washed over them. Serena took a step forward, her eyes blazing with crimson fury as her voice rose again. "REMEMBER YOUR DUTY!"
Her Marines roared in unison, their battle cry shaking the very air. "TO SERVE THE QUEEN'S WILL!"
With their queen leading the charge, the 1st Dark Marine Forces surged forward through the shattered gate, their invisibility fading as they broke into the village. The bandits scrambled to rally, but their disorganized shouts were no match for the disciplined ferocity of Serena's troops.
Serena herself strode into the fray, her every movement precise and commanding. Her blade gleamed as it cut through the chaos, her presence a beacon of fear for her enemies and inspiration for her Marines.
The charge of the 1st Dark Marine Forces was a nightmare given form. Thirty-six figures, clad in dark armor and moving with an almost inhuman precision, tore through the village's crude defenses. The shouts of the bandits were frantic and disorganized as they scrambled to meet their attackers, but their hastily formed lines crumbled the moment the two forces clashed.
The initial resistance came from a cluster of bandits armed with spears and rusted blades. They thrust forward, their weapons striking true—but to no avail. One of Serena's Marines, a young man named Edran, took a spear directly through the gut. The bandit who delivered the blow grinned in triumph, only for that grin to falter as Edran grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands and yanked it free, his wound knitting itself together in mere seconds. His face twisted into a snarl, and with a single swing of his axe, the bandit's head rolled across the dirt.
Another soldier, Reila, was slashed across the throat by a curved blade. Blood sprayed in an arc, and she staggered back, clutching her neck. The bandit who struck her laughed, his victory short-lived as Reila straightened, her severed flesh mending itself seamlessly. Her eyes burned with fury as she drove her dagger into his chest, twisting it as he screamed.
A third, Kael, had his arm severed clean at the elbow by a vicious strike from a bandit wielding a warhammer. The arm fell to the ground with a sickening thud, yet Kael didn't falter. He drove his sword into the bandit's gut with his remaining arm, and even as the blood poured from his wound, the severed limb began to regenerate, sinew and bone knitting themselves back together with a grotesque squelching sound.
To the bandits, it was a vision pulled from their worst fears. Another soldier, Varik, was impaled through the chest by a jagged pike. The weapon jutted from his back, yet he simply wrenched it free, tossing it aside like a splinter. His hand shot out, gripping the throat of his attacker and crushing it with inhuman strength.
The fifth, Tasia, was struck by an arrow that buried itself deep into her eye socket. She fell to her knees, seemingly defeated, but then rose again, the arrow sliding out as the flesh of her eye reformed. Her lips curled into a feral grin as she charged forward, her blade cutting a bloody swath through the screaming bandits.
Eryk, the last in the line of visible horrors, took a blow to the head from a spiked mace. The sickening crack of his skull echoed through the battlefield, and he crumpled to the ground. For a moment, the bandits hesitated, certain they had felled him. But then Eryk's body convulsed, his broken skull reshaping itself in a grotesque display of snapping bone and rippling flesh. He stood, his helmet shattered, revealing his blood-soaked face and the horrifying grin of a man who could not be stopped.
The bandits' morale shattered with every impossible recovery. They screamed, their eyes wide with terror as they watched their attackers rise again and again, wounds that should have killed them closing as if they had never been inflicted.
"They're monsters! They can't die!" one bandit wailed, dropping his weapon as he stumbled back, only to be cut down by one of Serena's Marines.
"Run! Run!" screamed another, only to be struck down mid-flight by an arrow loosed by one of the Marines.
Overseeing the chaos from the rear, Serena moved with an eerie calm, her crimson eyes scanning the battlefield. The sight of her troops executing her orders with ruthless efficiency filled her with satisfaction.
"REMEMBER YOUR DUTY!" she bellowed again, her voice cutting through the cacophony of screams and steel.
"TO SERVE THE QUEEN'S WILL!" her Marines roared back, their cry a terrifying symphony of loyalty and bloodlust.
The village became a slaughterhouse, the bandits falling one by one as the 1st Dark Marine Forces advanced. For the few who dared to fight, death came swiftly. For those who tried to flee, it came just as surely. The Marines fought as if possessed, their wounds meaningless, their determination unshakable. The bandits, in contrast, crumbled under the weight of their fear, their bodies and spirits broken by the unrelenting assault.
The village was nearly under their control, the screams of the remaining bandits fading into desperate cries as the 1st Dark Marine Forces advanced with relentless precision. The Marines moved like a single entity, their coordination honed by months of brutal training and their resolve bolstered by their queen's unwavering presence.
At the heart of the chaos, Sergeant Alric, a towering, burly man with a weathered face and a broadsword that gleamed with fresh blood, approached Serena. He moved with purpose, his boots crunching against the blood-soaked dirt as the last remnants of resistance began to crumble around them.
"My Lady, the village is nearly ours," Alric called, his voice deep and steady, though a flicker of unease lingered in his eyes.
As he drew closer, a sudden, sharp crack of energy rang out. A faint shimmer of magic coursed through the air, and a vicious diagonal slash appeared across Serena's face, cutting from her temple down to the corner of her jaw. She recoiled slightly, a hand flying to the wound as crimson blood dripped down her pale skin. Her sharp intake of breath hissed through clenched teeth.
"My Lady! Are you—" Alric began, taking a step forward.
Before he could finish, Serena lowered her hand, her eyes burning with both pain and defiance. The wound, though deep, began to knit itself together before his very eyes, the flesh mending as if it had never been touched. In mere moments, her face was flawless again, save for the faint smear of blood that she casually wiped away with her glove.
Alric froze, his gaze flicking between her healed face and the battlefield. He didn't dare speak the realization that struck him like a hammer: She was taking their wounds. Every injury her Marines should have suffered… every death that should have claimed them… she was bearing it herself.
His grip tightened on his broadsword, his knuckles turning white. The weight of her sacrifice hit him harder than any enemy blade ever could. The reason they had been overwhelming the bandits, why they seemed invincible, was because their queen refused to let them falter—even at the cost of her own pain.
Serena straightened, her crimson eyes locking onto Alric with a piercing intensity. Despite the agony she had just endured, her expression was one of pride, not weakness. "What's the matter, Sergeant? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Alric quickly composed himself, bowing his head slightly. "No, my Lady. Just... awe."
Her lips curved into a faint smirk, her voice carrying a sharp edge of satisfaction. "Good. Let them see that awe. Let them know they follow more than just a queen—they follow a force of nature. And you, Sergeant, are part of that force. This village is nearly ours because of your strength, your resolve, and your loyalty. Don't falter now. Finish what we started."
The pride in her voice sent a surge of determination through Alric. He puffed out his chest, standing straighter as he nodded firmly. "It will be done, my Lady. You have my word."
"I know, Sergeant," she replied, her voice softening just slightly. "You've already proven yourself. Now prove it to them." She gestured toward the remaining pockets of bandits, her smirk widening. "Make sure they remember tonight—and who took this village from them."
Alric gave a final nod before turning and striding back toward the battlefield, his broadsword gleaming in the dim light. The fire in his chest burned brighter than ever, fueled by the knowledge of what his queen was willing to endure for them. The weight of that realization didn't burden him—it empowered him.
The village, once a quiet cluster of ramshackle buildings, had been transformed into a charnel house. The stench of blood and charred wood filled the air, thick and cloying, making it difficult to breathe. Serena stood at the heart of the chaos, her black cloak billowing as she raised her voice over the din of combat, her tone cutting through the air like a blade.
"No prisoners!" she roared, her crimson eyes blazing with an unholy light. "If they took up arms against us, give them death!"
Her words echoed through the shattered streets, carried on the wind like a dark omen. The bandits' final screams punctuated her commands, their desperate cries for mercy swallowed by the relentless assault of her thirty-six Marines. The 1st Dark Marine Forces moved with precision and purpose, their blades slicing through flesh and bone, their faces cold and unyielding.
From the safety of their homes, the villagers huddled behind cracked shutters and broken windows, their wide eyes peering out at the carnage unfolding before them. Mothers clutched their children close, their hands trembling as they tried to shield their little ones from the horrors outside. Fathers stood stiffly, their faces pale, their knuckles white as they gripped useless farm tools or crude weapons that they didn't dare wield.
Through the gaps in the wooden slats, they saw things that would haunt their nightmares. A bandit stumbled into the dirt, his arm severed at the elbow, blood spurting in grotesque, rhythmic pulses. He raised his remaining hand in surrender, his voice cracking as he begged, "Please! Mercy! I didn't mean—"
The sharp clang of a blade silenced him, the arc of steel severing his head from his shoulders. His body fell in a heap, blood pooling beneath it as one of Serena's Marines stepped over the corpse without so much as a second glance. The villagers gagged at the sight, one woman retching violently into the corner of her small home.
Another bandit, barely more than a boy, attempted to flee down the main street, his face streaked with dirt and tears. "I surrender! I swear, I surrender!" he screamed, his voice high-pitched and hysterical.
Serena's sharp gaze found him, her expression unyielding. "No prisoners," she repeated coldly, her voice carrying an almost mechanical certainty.
A soldier lunged forward, a spear piercing the boy's back with a sickening squelch. He gasped, his hands clawing at the weapon as blood spilled from his mouth. The villagers watching recoiled, one man collapsing to his knees as he vomited onto the floorboards.
The ground outside was slick with blood, the bodies of the bandits littering the streets in grotesque heaps. Limbs lay severed, faces frozen in expressions of terror and agony. The Marines moved methodically, their armor and weapons painted red as they carried out their queen's orders without hesitation.
Serena herself stood in the center of the destruction, her face calm, her eyes scanning the battlefield with an almost clinical detachment. She was a figure of terror, her dark silhouette illuminated by the flickering light of burning buildings. Her Marines seemed to draw strength from her presence, their movements fueled by an almost supernatural resolve.
Inside their homes, the villagers whispered prayers, their voices trembling as they begged whatever gods they believed in for the nightmare to end. But the gods didn't answer. Only the screams of the dying filled the air, a symphony of horror conducted by the Vengeful One and her unstoppable force.
When the final bandit fell, his body crumpling into the dirt with a wet thud, a heavy silence descended over the village. The 1st Dark Marine Forces stood amidst the carnage, their weapons dripping with blood, their breaths coming in steady, measured heaves. Serena surveyed the scene, her gaze cold and calculating as she turned toward her Marines.
"We have liberated this village," she announced, her voice carrying through the silent streets. "Remember this night. This is the cost of freedom. This is the price of defiance."
The villagers dared not step outside, their terror palpable even behind the safety of their walls. They had been saved, but at what cost? The sight of their liberators drenched in blood, their queen standing amidst the carnage with an almost serene expression, would linger in their minds for years to come.
Serena turned on her heel, her cloak swirling around her as she began to walk toward the village square. Behind her, the Marines followed in grim silence, their boots crunching over shattered bones and broken weapons. The 1st Dark Marine Forces had claimed their first victory, but the horror they left behind would never be forgotten.
The village square was a grim sight, still carrying the echoes of the battle that had raged just hours before. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smoke from dying fires. The bodies of the fallen bandits had been cleared away, but the scars of the conflict remained etched into the ground and the walls of the village.
Serena stood at the center of it all, her figure commanding and regal. Her black cloak flowed behind her, the faint shimmer of magic still clinging to her presence like an aura of inevitability. The Marines of the 1st Dark Marine Forces moved with methodical precision, going house to house and ensuring every villager was present. One by one, the villagers trickled into the square, their faces pale, their expressions ranging from fear to wary curiosity. Mothers held their children close, and the men stood protectively in front of their families, clutching makeshift weapons they knew were useless against the Marines who had decimated the bandits.
When the last villager arrived, Serena stepped forward, raising a hand to silence the growing murmurs. Her crimson eyes swept over the gathered crowd, taking in every trembling hand, every darting glance. Her voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"People of this village, I am the Vengeful One, Queen of Celestafell. As of this moment, your village is under my protection." Her words carried an undeniable weight, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of relief and apprehension. One of the older men, his face lined with age and worry, stepped forward hesitantly. "Protection, you say? And what will this protection cost us? We've had lords and 'protectors' before, and all they did was bleed us dry."
Serena's gaze fixed on him, her expression calm but unyielding. "This is not the rule of your old lords, nor am I here to conquer you. I do not seek to strip you of your livelihood or demand tribute you cannot afford. I am here to ensure that bandits like the ones you've suffered under will never set foot in this village again."
A woman near the front of the crowd, clutching a small child to her chest, spoke up, her voice trembling. "And if we refuse? What happens to us then? Will you leave, or will you punish us like you punished the bandits?"
Serena tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "If you refuse, I will leave. I do not force my protection on those who do not want it. But know this: without my Marines and my rule, you will be left vulnerable. Bandits will return, emboldened by the chaos they find here. And next time, there may not be anyone willing—or able—to save you."
The woman lowered her gaze, her grip on her child tightening as she bit her lip.
Another voice called out, this time from a younger man near the back. "What's the catch? You say you're here to protect us, but why? What's in it for you?"
Serena's smirk widened slightly, her crimson eyes gleaming. "What's in it for me is simple: stability. Every village, every town, every city under my rule strengthens my kingdom. Your safety is my strength. Your prosperity is my prosperity. I want you to thrive because it makes us all stronger. That's the catch, if you want to call it that."
The villagers exchanged uncertain glances, the weight of her words settling over them. Finally, the older man who had first spoken raised his voice again. "And what of the Marines? Are they to remain here, watching our every move? Are we to live under the shadow of their swords?"
Serena met his gaze, her expression softening just slightly. "The Marines are here to ensure your safety, not to oppress you. They will train your people to defend themselves. They will help rebuild your defenses. And when you are strong enough to stand on your own, they will leave. Until then, they will remain."
There was a long silence, the villagers murmuring among themselves as they weighed her words. Finally, the older man nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly as though a great weight had been lifted. "If what you say is true, then… perhaps this is what we need. Perhaps we have no other choice."
Serena stepped forward, her voice softening but still carrying the authority of a queen. "It's not about having no choice. It's about making the right one. This village has suffered enough. Let me give you the tools to protect yourselves, to rebuild, to prosper. Together, we will ensure that no one can take that from you again."
The murmurs died down, the villagers slowly nodding, their fear giving way to cautious hope. Serena turned to her Marines, her voice ringing out once more. "Prepare to assist them in rebuilding. This village is under Celestafell's banner now. And under my protection, it will thrive."
The Marines saluted, their movements sharp and disciplined, as the villagers began to disperse, their faces still wary but touched with the faintest glimmer of trust. As Serena stood in the square, watching the crowd thin, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. The first step had been taken. The village was hers, and its people would soon see what true protection meant under her rule.