A hundred chimps stood in rank.
Those of the second grade and under forming squads led by first-grade simians.
Having lived through centuries of peace, they'd never seen a war of this scale. Their stubby short fingers, known for their grip, failed at holding their weapons.
Hundreds of spears pointed to the sky, each quivering as an extension of their wielder.
Those of the first grade stood firm, leading their squads. But the dignity of a warrior was no longer in their eyes.
A chrysalis of thought.
Just enough. Survive long enough for the people to escape.
The sound of footsteps, contorted by their sheer numbers, turned to a low thrum echoing through the forest.
"Commander, they are approaching the perimeter." A young scouting chimp spoke, his arms trembling from what he'd seen.
"How many?"
"..." The scout gulped, cold sweats seeping into his fur, his eyes latched onto the tree line.
"Answer me!" His eyes shocked the scout; fear melted under the intensity of his gaze.
"As far as I could see there were around... There were around a thousand of them at the second grade or lesser."
"As for first and above, at least a hundred."
The commander's eyebrows creased, the shaft of his halberd creaking under his grip.
"Is it the Yaksha?..." The commander asked, his teeth gritted.
"Yes, sir..."
The commander turned to the squads. His halberd was raised into the air.
A sharp low thud erupted; its ferocity drew the attention of all those in the guard.
"Listen to your commander."
All those in the guard yelled at the top of their voice, a distinct coarse tone following their chorus.
"Yes, sir!"
"Under the scouts' confirmation, the attacking hordes are led by the Yaksha."
A wave of cold air ran through the ranks; the quivering of weapons heightened.
"If you are defeated by the enemy, kill yourself immediately."
"Life as a slave to the Yaksha is worse than the embrace of death."
Their coarse chorus weakened, a faint quivering now distinct in their screams.
"Yes, sir."
Dread grew as the low thrum turned clear.
At the approach of the horde led by the Yaksha, a bright red light exploded in the air.
Its shine, reflected in the eyes of the soldiers, resembled their future.
"They have approached the perimeter! Charge!"
A battle cry engulfed the forest.
The chimps charged.
The cover of the trees weakened. The battlefield that it veiled soon came to light.
Beasts of various races charged to the cover of the forest.
Their ferocious nature was subverted. With needles engraved into their eyes, their sight was taken.
Saddles knitted into their flesh, their regality marred.
Under the gloom of night, those who rode these beasts were but a silhouette. Only the deep red in their eyes shone.
Yaksha.
Beasts that embodied the meaning of cruelty.
Spears penetrated flesh. Intestines wrapped around the shaft, as though adorning the weapon.
The march of the Yakshas halted ahead of the perimeter.
"Hold the perimeter no matter what." The commander screamed, his words reaching through the sound of flesh and iron.
Feet crashed into the earth. Reaching for the first-grade demons at the far end. An entourage of the commander's most trusted soldiers followed from behind.
Sharp slices and thrusts morphed into one, the bodies of simians and Yakshas falling into earth alike.
The commander's squad reached into the ranks of second- and first-class demons.
An arm as big as a tree hurtled towards them, the air ripping open as it brushed against the mount's coat.
The commander raised his halberd at an angle, its shaft pressed against his shoulder.
A blunt ring sounded as the mount's arm crashed into the flat end of the blade, its shaft bending under the pressure.
Legs tensed into earth lathered in blood, the commander deflected the mount's blow. A heavy low crash left the air trembling.
The commander took the chance to counter immediately. His halberd spun through the air; its shaft landed firmly on the mount's arm.
The sheer force of the impact sent the commander flying into the air. Coming face to face with the red eyes of a Yaksha youngling.
Shrill screeches broke through the Yaksha's visage, soon cut short.
A halberd splitting its head open, blood splattering in its wake, resembling the crescent moon.
The entourage followed the commander as soon as he landed. Their weapons moved through the air, bearing the voracity of a whirlwind.
A whirlwind dyed in blood and qi.
Their bloody path slowed as they entered the deeper ranks.
"Commander, the adult Yakshas are approaching."
"Enter formation!"
The chimps stood back-to-back. The battlefield around them turned to a vacuum, soon encroached by adult Yakshas.
Their metallic skin shone under the moonlight. Towering physiques that obscured light, standing over two metres tall.
In contrast to their cruel nature, their adult selves moved with elegance. Regal patterns engraved into their skin, their luster exacerbated by the blood they bathed in.
"Why don't you damn chimps just surrender? Without your mountain god, your resistance is meaningless." A Yaksha spoke, its shrill voice laden in malice.
"Shut up, you damned Yaksha."
"Watch your mouth, chimp. I'm not beyond eating your children before your very eyes." A wide grin split through the Yaksha's face. The demon seemed almost aroused by the thought of the chimp's suffering.
Spears pointed at the Yaksha's head, a cyan hue ensconcing them.
The blood-soaked earth squelched at the dash of the chimps. Spears ripped at the Yaksha, each missing the demon's body by a mere centimetre.
As the rhythm of thrusts grew tighter, the Yaksha could no longer dodge them all.
Flesh creaked as the Yaksha dashed back.
Its eyes grew a deeper red.
"Damned chimps."
The Yaksha reached towards its belt, pulling out an oddly shaped whip, its length adorned with sharp spikes.
The chimps shivered at its sight.
"Ohh... are you interested in my weapon? It's made of baby minotaur intestines. Very stretchy and resilient!" The Yaksha's contorted grin grew wider.
One of the chimps from the entourage lost control of his emotions. His spear pointed at the Yaksha, he dashed, his cyan manifestation turning muddy.
"Forte! Don't do it." The commander screamed, but it was too late.
"Fell for it!" The Yaksha giggled.
The whip's length slid through the air, wrapping itself around Forte's head.
"NO!"
The sound of skin ripping was engulfed by the cacophony of war. Tufts of fur and flesh stuck to the nails of the whip.
The entourage that had fought together for many years was broken. Their eyes ran red. Unsightly cries permeated the surroundings.
The commander rushed out, half driven by anger, half driven by opportunity. His stomach churned, teeth gritted.
His trusted subordinate's death turned into a mere opportunity.
Slicing through the air, the whip targeted the commander now.
At contact, the Yaksha's grin grew again. But his expression soon weakened, the sound of flesh replaced by that of a wooden shaft.
The commander lowered his stance and dashed to the Yaksha, the tension in the whip completely lost.
The air was ripping, its sound growing closer by the second.
Blade shining under light, the halberd ripped toward the Yaksha's neck.
But its grin didn't weaken.
A hidden blade broke from the engraving on the Yaksha's wrists.
Time dilated.
How could I die so quickly? If I don't hold the Yaksha back, the ranks will break. The people!
The ripping in the commander's ears grew louder. A sound he mistook for the call of death.
His eyes darkened; the weight of failure bore heavily on him.
Under the reflection of the blade, a vague silhouette appeared, growing larger by each moment.
A loud crash erupted; the commander was sent flying back to his squad.
The ripping wind caught up to the silhouette. Chimps were pushed back as the wind struck the earth, its rage encapsulated in its force.
A plume of blood misted the visage of the Yaksha.
The commander rubbed his eyes; his body lay in the mud.
The domineering Yaksha was nowhere to be seen—its entirety turned to air tinged with blood and flesh.
Amidst the mist stood a human.
His fists were stained in the red blood of the Yaksha. Its oily texture clung to his fists.
The visage of the mountain god was embroidered onto his back. Its ferocity signalled the end for most, but to the chimps, this was the mark of their protector.
Mud splattered, his steps nearing the commander.
A firm grip caught onto the commander's halberd.
"I'll need to borrow this for a bit. I'll try not to break it."
The halberd slipped out of the commander's hands without resistance.
"My Lord?..." His eyes opened wide; relief spread through his body.
The whirlwind of blood erupted once again. Myriad beasts rendered into mist. At the centre stood Vera, his towering visage mirroring the one he came here to fell.
The weakened grip of the soldiers regained its strength. The silhouette of their lord gave them hope.
Slowing down the Yakshas was no longer the goal.
The battle cry of the chimps, once engulfed by the cacophony of battle, is now distinct.
Its rhythm sought only victory.