The moon loomed above like an executioner's blade.
A kingdom stood in the distance, its walls tall, its banners fluttering against the night sky. Beneath those walls—an army stretched across the fields, thousands of soldiers standing ready.
Waiting.
They had received word that an invasion force was coming.
What they didn't know—was that they weren't fighting an army.
They were fighting five monsters.
The Valkary stood on the cliffside, gazing down at their prey.
Modred's crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness.
Dante rolled his shoulders, black lightning crackling from his fingertips. "They brought a lot of bodies."
Xeraniel grinned, his violet eyes glowing. "More to test our strength on."
Fenrick tightened his gloves. "No war speeches?"
Arthur, standing beside Modred, exhaled slowly. "This isn't a battle. This is an execution."
Modred raised his hand.
"Kill them all."
---
THE SLAUGHTER BEGINS
BOOM.
In a single instant—the battlefield exploded into chaos.
Dante moved first. A bolt of black lightning tore through the sky, striking the frontlines. Soldiers screamed as their armor melted, their bodies convulsing as electricity consumed them.
Xeraniel followed. The moment he raised his hand—gravity shifted. The front row of knights were yanked upward, their bones snapping as the force crushed them midair.
Fenrick's fists collided with the first wave of warriors. Their shields shattered like glass. Their bones snapped under his raw strength.
Arthur's blade cleaved through men like paper, his swordsmanship precise, elegant—merciless.
And then—Modred moved.
One second he was on the cliff.
The next—he was among them.
---
THE REAPER IN THE NIGHT
The first soldier didn't even realize he was dead.
Modred moved like a shadow, his blade cutting through flesh before the man even blinked.
One swing—five heads hit the dirt.
Another step—he was behind an archer, severing his spine with a single flick of his wrist.
Blood painted the battlefield.
A knight swung at him from behind—
He wasn't fast enough.
Modred's crimson pupils burned.
SLASH.
His sword pierced through the knight's chest.
He twisted the blade—the knight's scream was brief.
Then—he was gone.
Another wave of warriors charged at him, spears raised.
Modred exhaled.
And then—his aura exploded.
BOOM.
The sheer force of his killing intent sent men stumbling back, their instincts screaming at them to run.
But it was too late.
Modred vanished.
And in the next breath—the entire frontline was gone.
---
THE MONSTERS OF ASTRIA
A captain screamed, "They're demons!"
But it didn't matter.
Dante leapt into the sky, his entire body a storm of black lightning. With one strike, he sent a thunderous explosion through the battlefield, reducing entire squads to ash.
Xeraniel floated above the chaos, his eyes glowing as gravity distorted around him. Soldiers were flung into the air, crushed mid-flight, their bodies collapsing under the pressure.
Fenrick weaved between warriors, his fists breaking armor like paper. Each punch caved in ribs, shattered helmets, sent men flying.
Arthur's sword was a flash of silver death, his blade cutting down warriors before they even had time to react. He was like a phantom—every movement effortless, every strike fatal.
They weren't just winning.
They were slaughtering.
And then—the kingdom's trump card arrived.
---
THE LAST STAND
The gates of the kingdom burst open.
A unit of elite knights—clad in black armor, wielding enchanted weapons—charged forward.
They were trained for war. Chosen for this moment.
The strongest warriors the kingdom had to offer.
Modred stared at them.
They weren't afraid.
Good.
They wouldn't die cowering.
Modred raised his sword.
"Come."
The knights charged.
And the real battle began.