"No! No! No! This isn't how it's supposed to end! Not like this!"
The scream was hysterical, a desperate sound that pierced through the cacophony of the surrounding battle. The warlord, a man named Hideki in his late forties with old scars marking his face and heavy armor weighing on his frame, stood atop a small hill. His eyes were wide, dilated with a mixture of terror and shock as he watched his vast army being harvested with terrifying ease by a strange unit that had suddenly intervened.
They were being slaughtered. Butchered. Torn apart. Like insects caught in the path of a hurricane.
Hideki had expected a confident victory—moderate losses, perhaps, but a guaranteed triumph. This win was meant to force his rival, Lord Ayato—or "King Ayato" as the arrogant fool now styled himself—into total submission. Annual tributes, the ceding of fertile lands, hostages as collateral—it was a logical, clear plan. The strong conquer, the weak submit. Simple.
Then... why? Why was this happening? Where had the calculations failed?
He had gathered meticulous intelligence on Ayato's forces: soldier counts, training quality, commanders, and techniques. He was certain of his inevitable victory due to his army's overwhelming numerical superiority and seasoned combat experience. He had even mocked Ayato in his private councils, laughing at the man for declaring himself a "King" over a territory barely worth the name.
But what had happened? Where was the fatal error?
At dawn, the battle had begun evenly—armies clashing, blades meeting, blood spilled on both sides. As the hours ground on, the tide began to shift in Hideki's favor. His men pushed forward; Ayato's retreated. The enemy's casualties mounted. Hideki smiled, watching his plan unfold.
But then, the unexpected occurred. Ayato's forces began a disciplined, rapid withdrawal, abandoning the field and fleeing toward the rear. Hideki's confidence surged. He had won! They were running!
He laughed aloud, raising his sword: "Victory is ours! Pursue them! Leave no one alive!"
He ordered the chase, intent on crushing the survivors. But in that exact moment...
A new unit appeared—barely a hundred warriors emerging from behind a distant ridge. They advanced with a haunting, quiet steady pace. Initially, Hideki sneered with open contempt.
"What can a mere hundred men do to change the tide?" He turned to his commander, chuckling. "Our victory is already decided! Those are just desperate souls trying to delay the inevitable!"
But moments later, everything changed. The nightmare began.
These strange warriors advanced with a calm resolve and accelerating speed, slicing through Hideki's ranks like a hot blade through soft butter. They faced no true resistance in penetrating the massive army. On the contrary, they moved through the soldiers as if they weren't even there.
Trained veterans and powerful warriors were reaped like weak vermin. Killed in one strike—two at the most. Heads spun through the air; bodies were rent asunder; blood painted the earth. It was no longer a battle. It was a massacre.
The most terrifying aspect of this mysterious unit was their combat style—unlike anything seen in this era. They used no traditional formations, no organized tactics, and no group coordination. Instead, they relied on gargantuan physical strength, staggering speed, bone-shattering strikes, and massive leaps. They wielded swords, spears, and various weapons with a brutal, direct, almost feral efficiency.
They weren't disciplined soldiers. They were individual predators. Each one fought alone, choosing their own targets and moving with absolute freedom. They tore through the army with manic, frantic laughter, screaming and reveling in the combat. They were wild wolves unleashed upon a flock of helpless sheep.
On a high, distant ridge overlooking the slaughter, two young men stood calmly: Sato and Leon, sons of the Ryukoga family. Directly behind them stood King Ayato, watching in silence with wide, trembling eyes.
Sato spoke in a calm tone, though a hint of irony touched his voice as he looked at his brother. "You've overdone their training, haven't you, Leon?" He raised an eyebrow. "Look at them... they are butchering an entire army without breaking a sweat. This is... an exaggeration."
Leon replied with a broad, toothy grin, his eyes shining with unmistakable pride. "No. Not at all." He shook his head. "In fact, they haven't even reached the level of my true expectations yet. They could be stronger. Faster. More lethal."
Ayato watched the distant carnage, seeing the enemy soldiers fall like autumn leaves, and felt a surge of profound relief. A smile crept onto his face; he couldn't help himself. When Hideki had launched his offensive weeks ago, Ayato had been plagued by anxiety. He knew Hideki's forces were superior in both number and quality, and the man himself was a seasoned veteran. Moreover, Ayato knew the "Dragons"—the Ryukoga family—would not intervene openly unless the threat to the kingdom became truly existential.
However, the fierce and free-spirited dragon known as Leon had become incredibly excited at the news of the coming war. His eyes had flashed; his grin had widened. He saw it as the perfect opportunity to field-test the special unit he had been training in secret.
Initially, Ayato hadn't been optimistic. Their training had seemed bizarre, chaotic, and lacked the military discipline he respected. They were a pack of individual wolves, devoid of formations or strict order. This was the result of Leon's philosophy: he was a man unbound by tradition, a rebel who valued individual power and uncontrolled madness in combat.
But the result manifesting before Ayato's eyes... it shocked him to the core. A total massacre. Absolute dominance. Overwhelming power. One hundred warriors were crushing an army of thousands. It was supernatural. This was a weapon—a deterrent so terrifying it would safeguard his kingdom for generations.
Leon watched the distant battle and saw one of his followers decapitate Hideki with a single swing. The head spun into the air; the body slumped. A wave of frustration washed over him. It had ended too quickly. Too easily. There was no real challenge. Some of his men were now hunting down the terrified survivors with manic expressions and loud laughter. It was boring.
Sato noticed his brother's disappointment and understood the cause immediately. He reached out and patted Leon's shoulder. "Don't be discouraged, big brother." He spoke in a reassuring, friendly tone. "Surely, a foe strong enough to truly fight you will appear in the future. A worthy enemy."
Leon sighed, looking toward the horizon. "I hope so," he muttered. "Otherwise, I'll die of sheer boredom."
He turned and began to walk away. The battle was over. The victory was total. But it was hollow. He needed a true challenge to make his blood boil, for with his constantly increasing strength, he was beginning to lose all hope of finding an equal.
( Leon walt pic is available to everyone on my Patreon page even if u r not member)
-------------
If you are enjoying this work and would like to read the upcoming chapters , you can access the advanced chapters on Patreon.
Patreon :Aaron4dicard
I publish several chapters there before they are released here, you can join through the link partreon/Aaron4dicard Thank you to everyone who reads and supports the work.