Those who had survived stood there, like stunned statues. Not believing the darkness had truly left. Most were in stances, as if they were paused mid battle, their opponent had vanished after all. There were not as many knights dead though. Most were just the guards from the forest folk. The forest folk survivors had these blank stares. Teetering on the border of madness. They had survived, but by the looks of it, by keeping away for their lives. It did help that void beings are more concerned with pure souls – the knights.
They felt hallow. The blinding sunlight had no effect on them. The Knights had started to move, but they remained idle, hoping for the sweet release of death. If only they knew that dying by the destroyers' hands is a fate worse than death, oblivion. After scanning the grounds, the Knight realised that none of the dead had traces of their souls fading. All of them did not rest in peace, they were erased, gone. Even their eyes were grey.
The battle had taken a lot from them. Strange part was how the battle only lasted for half of the day and vanished as quickly as it had come. Fighting for a while and then come day it's over? Probably the strangest threat the world had to face. One where full reprieve is given admits battle, and no retreat. All they had to do is keep pushing, keep fighting, and never, not even once, lose sight of why they were here. Even so, only a few guards stood, alive. Having made it through yet another night. For better or worse they could not see what they fought, unlike the knights.
After a couple of minutes, the exhausted ones collapsed, their minds finally realising the darkness was gone. Then movement began as they all began to prepare for the next volley. They had to recover and make sure that they at least survive this almost futile battle. All the squires and pages ran to help. The guards had also brough along some attendants as suggested by the knights.
They had a camp, one further from the battle. It was still too close for comfort, after all none of them, not a single stood a chance should they be enveloped by the carnage. This is where the Knight had been waiting. The dry faces of the legion entered the shelter, made from stone, using pattern carvings in the ground – some pattern smiths had come.
"I see you have awakened."
Solace said as she summoned a map made from white light. One terraformed into the landscape. She was even tracking all those moving, as their figures did their tasks. The tiny bodies of the dead were also visible. The corner the map had a timer, predating the arrival of the next night. Out of all of them she/he seemed less affected. She was at a high level after all – and probably as horrible to face herself. She is the main reason they have not been overwhelmed and rushed.
… "Knight Bachelor – Knight! Reporting for duty!"
***
First, they briefed the Knight on the situation.
"I see you have awakened." So said Adriel as she entered the room.
When solace spoke, their attention immediately all went to her. "The full army from the darkness is still not here. The ones around are the scavengers. The army has only sent a small force. By the way things are looking – which is good for us – they might not feel the same. I have a feeling we will be experiencing a full assault by the end of this week.
My legion seems to be holding up. The knight casualties are minimum, mostly from unforeseen mistakes. From the guards who died with borrowed armour, the armour must be collected and dispersed amongst the survivors without. Try to get them as ready as can be. How many have deserted?"
"These fools, not even a single one left today." Said Poli as she scratched the back of her head. It made sense, she was the one responsible for helping everyone recover quickly, so of course she knew just how many were dying. But there was not much she could do in the face of their resolve – ram shackled as it might be.
'If I remember right, Poli's brigade handled recovery. Most of them have skills and a power that results in recovery. A precious resource, considering they have half a day to restore all to pristine condition.'
Then the temporary officer in charge of the Knight's lance was relieved and the lead was handed over back to the Knight.
"Callen had been leading your brigade for you. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."
The battle was not as cut and dry as the Knight had seen. Most of the deceased were the guards. Afterall, the knights were a tough bunch, otherwise they would have not been an existent force if they were not as effective. Most of the bodies the Knight had thought to be knights, were just the guards who had borrowed extra amour after they were stripped bare from their previous confrontation.
Less than ten Knights actually died. This explained why they were so strict with their ranking between squire and knight. They would have avoided dragging the guard into battle, but as with every manifestation (kind of being), they all refuse to be helped as they sit back and watch. But the good thing is that once in a while, the guards of the different nations produce champions.
The guards the Knight had seen still alive were these champions. They had made it through the night not by luck. But by possessing a combination of skills that did not render them fodder on the battle front.
The Knight then marched out heading for the quarters designated for its section of the army its lance, major upgrade from leading a squadron. There it was met with gazes varied as can be. But due to the constant influx of hopes, it had grown attuned to human emotions. As turns out, despite their reservations, they all felt extraordinarily happy, to know the hero was here to help them. All except one. He still felt similar, but his reservations prevailed over his relief.
The Knight did not speak to them much; there was no need. They had their orders and the major change would be the spearhead of their charge. The Knight did, however, walk around to check their situation. They were holding up, but it was clearly visible that they were worse off than other lances. Even if none had fallen, they were the most injured. Which was more evident by the number of knights from the recovery lance roaming around their camp.
Then as dusk approached, and the night began creeping in, the army became once more resolute. Their eyes were determined to face the darkness once more. They all headed for the area where darkness would resume its march. This felt so familiar to the Knight. Strangely this was the first time it had ever gone to a void territory not its own.
They all braced themselves as the darkness washed over the land. All battle ready. Just like that, it appeared. After a few moments, they each began to crawl out of the darkness. Each as horrendous as the last. They manifested like nightmares, drawn up for the devil. Their figures distorted, not even remotely human. Gazing at them washed all with a sickening feeling in their head, and a discomfort in the stomach. It is true the mind knows not of death until it experiences it, but in this moment, death could not be any clearer, for it stood before them – ready to commit untold horrors upon them. The hearts of those who were here the previous night were eerily refreshed, for it was as though this was their first night, because there is no getting used to seeing these horrors, even if they were blind to them.
Their hearts were beating erratically, confused as to why none would listen to reason as their blood clogged on itself trying to tell the body to flee. Adrenalin could not change a thing, and this is why the body did not even bother to release even a drop of it. All it wanted to do was run the hell out of there.
"Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why! Why!"
Yelled their hearts in sincere and object terror. Even while blinded they could not help but shed tears for the lives they were throwing away. Then in a strange instance, they became numb. Corpses fighting for survival – their minds even refused to detail this moment – choosing to enter a state of being even deeper than deep sleep – a state in which they were indistinguishable from moving objects that could not be labelled as living – for this is the only way the champions of Elleria could face this harrowing night once again.
The Knight however did not recognise them, meaning at the very least it had not run into them in the town it has to go back to.
'They must not be Blood Fiends army.'
Even though none knew the Knight, somehow with a glace they could tell that this was no human. I say gaze, but really there was no telling. Each was an ugly and atrocious abstract just as the Knight is beneath the armour. Abominations that followed no anatomy, only semblances of flesh that makes one wince, churning their stomachs.
'I guess that's what a mangled soul-like creature is like. By comparison, those in the guild in the void were handsome. Maybe there's a trend. Afterall, the angel was the most horrifying thing I have seen walk in the daylight, and it was extremely strong.'
The reason the Knight knew that their gaze was focused on it was because of its soul. That is when the Knight…