Blood. Gore. Pieces of flesh. Chunks of internal organs. Severed arms and legs. Severed heads. Headless corpses.
This was the sight anyone would have been greeted with had they witnessed the port of Lys at that moment. This was the state to which the usually prosperous, bustling, rich and the crowded port had been reduced to.
It had been only an hour since the battle between the forces of Lys and the army of Lord Aeos, led by General Sylvia, had begun. The forces of Lord Aeos had pressed the advantage, fueled by the massive psychological boost Sylvia had granted them by killing the enemy leader in a single, unbelievable strike. It had been a strike of sheer genius and skill and was a blow which had pushed the Lysene forces on the backfoot. Though other men had quickly emerged to take over the chain of the command, the death of the leader had been a massive setback.
Despite being weaker in numerical strength, Slyvia and her men had managed to gain the upper hand on the battlefield. The defensive line of the Lysene army had been shattered, leaving them at a massive disadvantage.
At the forefront of this charge was Sylvia herself. She was a whirlwind of carnage and slaughter in whichever direction she turned. Her display on the battlefield was inhumane and monstrous. Her display of carnage left the Lysene army baffled, astonished, and shell-shocked. She fought as if she were a miniature army unto herself. With every step she took, someone died. With a sword in one hand and a spear in the other, she was raining hell.
Her entire body was drenched in the blood of the enemies she had slaughtered. Despite the horror she spread across the battlefield, three men came charging toward her.
There was no conviction in their eyes, only pure desperation. Perhaps she had grown tired after the constant killing. Perhaps they might land a lucky strike, killing or even merely injuring her. But all that hope was in vain.
She blocked one of the incoming strikes aimed at her face using the shaft of her spear while, in an unbelievable maneuver, she twisted her body to dodge the other two blades.
Even before the three assailants could contemplate their next move or even think of a reaction, Sylvia continued her motion in a smooth, fluid flow. Her other hand swept her sword through the gut of the man whose strike she had just blocked, drawing more blood with her Valyrian steel.
She did not even look as the man's body tumbled, already moving to her next target. The remaining two men were upon her, swords raised vertically as they committed to their mad charge. There was no skill, no strategy, nor even a shred of a plan in their attack. Only rage and desperation.
But that was all they were able to achieve. The spear in Sylvia's hand swirled and, using its extended range, she pierced it through the heart of one of the men. For a tip imbued with Valyrian steel, cutting through leather armor of the man was far too easy.
The eyes of the final man shifted for just a moment toward his dying comrade, and that was enough for Sylvia. Her sword cleaved through the man's neck. Blood sprayed across her hand and torso, forming another layer of crimson as the head fell with a heavy thud.
She did not spare even a moment's thought as she wrenched her spear back, letting another body roll away as she pressed forward.
Jelerion was struggling. Skill wise, she was one of the best. She had trained hard and had reached the pinnacle of what she could have achieved with her normal body. But her normal body had its limits.
An hour of constant fighting had left her exhausted and drained. She had been planning to withdraw behind the defensive line of her army for a breather when two men engaged her. They had likely identified her as General Sylvia's assistant and were desperate to claim such a high value prize. Getting her was going to be a thing of glory for them.
She deflected another sword strike aimed at her body as she was forced to move sideways. She eyed the defensive line, contemplating how to retreat, when from the corner of her eye she caught another strike aimed at her shoulder. She leaned backward, trying to avoid the blow, but her body was tired and her reaction time was a bit sluggish.
At the last moment, the sword nicked her shoulder blade. Blood spewed from the cut, and a hiss of pain escaped her lips.
"Ahh!" she cried out in pain with gritted teeth.
This was not the first injury she had suffered in this battle. There were already a few cuts and bruises on her arms and legs, but each of them had been shallow and had not affected her mobility. This one, however, was deeper. Though not life-threatening, the injury to her shoulder blade meant her sword-arm's mobility was going to be compromised. She could not be as fast as she was and she would neither be able to generate as much power as she wanted.
She kept her eyes on the two men standing diagonally on either side of her. They held their swords ready and, with an exchanged glance, pressed forward. With the two of them attacking in unison and Jelerion being far from her peak state, this felt like the end.
Despite the death coming toward her, Jelerion did not panic. Even with the throbbing pain in her shoulder, she kept her sword steady. If she was going to die, she was determined to take both of them with her.
The two men charged towards her and were just about to land their strikes when a spear pierced one of them from behind, emerging through his chest. His heart had been punctured, and he collapsed to the ground in an instant. Dead.
The other man was barely able to process what had happened when he felt a cold, metallic sensation passing through his spine. Agony surged through his body as he tilted his head, only to see a sword blade emerging from his chest. Life faded from his eyes as the sword was pulled back, and he, too, collapsed.
Jelerion looked ahead to find a grinning Sylvia standing in front of her. The blood masking her face made her smile appear dangerous and predatory.
"I take my eyes off you for a moment and you find yourself cornered and in danger," Sylvia remarked lightheartedly.
"I did not expect you to kill people by stabbing them in the back," Jelerion replied, pressing her hand against the wound on her shoulder to stem the bleeding.
"Nah!" Sylvia responded. "I am not here to claim the moral high ground or act like a noble hero. I am here to win a war, and I will use any method to do it."
Jelerion nodded as Sylvia turned to walk away, but not before the General added one final remark.
"If I could, I would be happy to kill all the Magisters in their sleep," she said, before departing to continue her carnage while Jelerion retreated behind the defensive line.
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