fireshade

The cold air makes him shiver as he feels goosebumps rise on his skin. The wind blows as the salty air of the sea flows over him.
He hears waves crashing against the rocks. Sea spray hits his face making him even colder. When he opens his eyes it takes his moment to realize what he is looking at.
A sky with clouds so dark and dense they block out any trace of sun. It's strange. Usually the weather is clear skies, so much so that people beg for some shade. the sky is darkened. it's something he's never seen before.
He puts his hands on the sand to push himself up. Sand?
Is he at the beach? Why is he at the beach?
He looks around for any sign of familiarity– on his left, the ocean. and watches the waves lash at the shore like angry beasts. He swivels his head around, a forest on the right, a mass of dark trees that seem endless and leading deep into the land. Forward and behind him just looks like sand for miles. Everything looks so desaturated as if the sun being obstructed has taken the vibrancy away, leaving only a lifeless looking shelf in its wake.
He looks down at his clothing which is covered in sand. The tiny pieces of rock dig into his hand as he pushes himself to try and stand up.
Where is he? He puts a hand to his head as a headache starts to form. Did he fall asleep at the beach? No, that can't be right. He never likes going to the beach.
These clothes are especially odd too. Loosely fitting brown pants and a white blouse, along with an empty scabbard at his hip. None of these are clothes he would usually wear. What's going on?
Suddenly he flinches away the loud boom of sound in the distance. He turns away from the ocean to look behind him where the sound came from and is met with the dark expanse of the now eerie looking forest.
Alarm bells go off in his head. He turns his head to look at his surroundings, hoping to see something- anything that can tell him what's going on. but no matter where he looks, all he sees is the ocean and the forest behind him.
He tries to calm down his rising panic. Has he been kidnapped or maybe he was stranded somehow?
Another loud boom goes off in the distance and a man comes running out of the forest with a bleeding gash on his arm. The man is running straight towards him,. he starts to slowly walk backwards as the man approaches him before breaking into a run when the guy gets closer.
“Wait!” the man yells out to him but he doesn't stop, what if this is his kidnapper. Unfortunately for him the man is able to catch up. The man grabs on his sleeve. He tugs him around to face him. He flinches and shuts his eyes tightly, afraid of who this guy might be.
“Sir Samuel, we must make it back to the battle. The Trailon soldiers have arrived with their calvary”
His name is not Samuel and he’s never even known anyone by that name. He doesn't know why this man is calling him by that name.
Despite that his eyes snap open. Trailon- its a name he remembers. He tries to grab onto that memory with incredible effort. Trailon, he knows that name, but why? Where is it from? He knows that this is not what's important right now. He’s lost in a strange place and doesn't know where he is. He should be trying to get out of the man’s grasp and run away. He's acting stupid by just standing here but for some reason the name Trailon rings such a prominent bell in his head.
“Trailon?” he blurts out idiotically, his mind unable to catch up with his mouth.
The man has a frantic and panicked look on his face as he responds “Yes, soldiers from the trailon army of the east are right behind me. come we must go join our allies”.
Then it hits him all at once like a triangle has just been hit and ringing aftereffects bounce off of every surface in his head. That's where he knows the name Trailon from. He can feel his rapidly paling face as he stutters out another question. “What is it you called me?”.
The man barks out a response in pure fear this time tightening his grip on his sleeve “Sir Samuel, we will die if we don't-”.
The man isn't able to get far in his sentence before an arrow shoots through his chest. Instantly The man collapses onto the ground shouting out in pain.
He turns his head sharply to see where the arrow came from. He sees three men come out of the woods, all dressed in strange uniforms.
He barely has time to react before the man with the spear lunges at him. The sharp tip slices through the air, aiming straight for his chest. He sidesteps just in time, the spear grazing his shoulder as he drops low In a fluid motion, he scoops up a handful of sand from the beach and fling it directly into the man's eyes.
The man staggers back, blinking furiously, trying to clear his vision but it was too late.
He dashes over and delivers a hard punch to the man’s midsection, sending him sprawling to the ground. He doesn't stop there— standing up, his booted foot came down with enough force to ensure the man stayed down.
The other two men freeze for a split second, surprised by his quick triumph. Then one of them reached for a bow slung across his back while the other unsheathed a sword, charging at him with a glare.
The swordsman's strike came fast, but he had already anticipated it. He ducks just under the strike, This- the fighting was familiar, like he's done it a thousand times before, each motion was simple and swift. Each kick he threw was planned to hit a different portion of the body. The recognizable action of it leaves him feeling strangely calm.
In one smooth motion, he rushes forward and grabs the swordsman's shoulders and shoves him in front of his own body, using him as a shield. The archer’s arrow whiz past, embedding itself deep into the swordsman's back. The swordsman lets out a gasp of pain, as the air leaves his lungs. When he lets go, the man collapses in front of him.
He can't afford to pause and catch his breath, in spite of knowing that His mind flashes to something he doesn't have time to dwell on—Trailton. This wasn’t just a fight. He wasn’t himself right now. He was inside the book, the one he had read countless times. That name—Trailton—he’d heard it countless times, but never like this. In the book, the kingdom of Avale was at war with Trailon most of the time.
Shaking off the momentary thought, he darts toward the remaining archer. His sprinting slowed down the loose grains of sand easily shifting under his weight.
arrows shoot pasts dangerously close, The archer’s hands trembled as he knocked another arrow, but he was much faster. He reached him in a blur of motion, grabbing onto the archer's hair and slamming his head down onto his knee, effectively knocking him out.
Heaving a breath, he throws the limp body onto the ground. Sweat drips down his brow from exertion. He used to fight just like this all the time even though when he tries to think back on any memories of using his combat skills he comes up blank.
He walks over to a small spot on the beach where the water is still. He splashes his face with the liquid to get rid of the sand caking on his skin. The cold temperature of the water seeps into his skin making him shiver miserably.
Then he looks down into the water and gasps at what he sees. A face much different than his own looks back at him. Pale Viridescent eyes look back at him wide and scared. He jerks back falling on his hands, nausea rolling down his throat.
This isn't his face, it looks so wrong. What's happened to him?
He crawls back to water and looks down in terror at the face. He looks different ,so strange. oh god, it looks so wrong.
He puts a hand to his mouth and the reflection does too. This body is not his, blond, bright hair curls around the ears and falls past his neck. When he brings a shaky hand to cup his face, so does the boy in the water.
This body is younger and has a youthful appearance. It looks nothing like him.
He never cared about his appearance that much but still. He's used to looking at his face. He would gaze upon face, scrutinizing the Thin lines that linger on his eyes and mouth. one of the only signs of him aging. How the skin around his neck has begun to sag and his jaw is not sharp it once was.
That's all gone now. Now matter how much he pulls and stretches at his face it only bounces back to its youthful appearance. He looks no older than a teenager.
For a moment he thinks that maybe he's just dreaming, maybe he's fallen asleep on the bus again. any moment the bus driver will wake him to kick him up and he'll be left in the middle of nowhere. none of this is real, nothing but a strange dream. Then he looks over at the bodies on the beach, and the dark sky above him. He lifts a hand to pinch his arm and reconciles with the painful sting that comes with it.
He heaves a final breath of excursion as he comes to a conclusion. This is the book ‘Vow of Oblivion’
Samuel straightens up and turns around and makes his way over the man that had the sword.
He knows it's not a perfectly logical conclusion, that he's somehow been transported into the book. He doesn't know why he's so sure, literally a dozen other possibilities could be true. But for some odd reason he doesn't actually feel any doubt with his interpretation of this situation.
He takes the weapon from the man. With a sword in hand, he walks over the dense forest area and starts chopping through the obstacles in his path. Sounds of yelling and metal clanging ring through the air in the far distance. If he is, where and when, in the book he thinks he is, he has to head towards the fight.
Vow of Oblivion is an old age fantasy novel. Percival, the bitter son of a duke and the protagonist of the book, grows up with a troubled childhood and after getting darkened by the world around him, desires to create a better world by destroying it.
Tiny cuts sting on Samuels forearm and prickle with pain as he extends his arms to chop down more branches in his way, they crack and break as they fall to his feet. all the thorns he's unable to avoid continue to cut him as he passes by. Each thorn that cuts him is a stinging reminder that this is all real.
His thoughts move fast within his mind, each one colliding with each as his brain stumbles over itself to remember what he can about the book.
This is the place- This is the place where he's supposed to die. Or Samuel is supposed to die- but he's Samuel now.
In the original, Samuel was only canon fodder as the eldest son of that same duke. He was sent off to battle and died fighting in the Trailon war very early in the book. Samuel was sent away by Percival’s aunt because at this time in the book Percival is too young to run the house and with the original Samuel dead The aunt would be the Mistress of the house.
Percival and Samuel were never close as brothers. So samuels death didn't have a huge impact on the original story.
He pushes away a branch in front of him with a little more effort than needed. It snaps in half and lands on the ground
He doesn't want that to happen to him! He shivers with fear at the thought of what body he's in and what that means. He's supposed to die on this island. Killed in battle.
Even if he is able to survive the war being fought on this island, he still doesn't have long before Percival will orchestrate the world's destruction. Leading to a lot of people's death. Including Himself, now that he's in samuels body.
This time when He cuts through another wall of vines as it falls onto the ground two men come from behind it and run straight for him. He tenses, and throws up his arm in defence. When nothing happens he looks at the men again. The one on the right, with stubble and dark hair looks shocked, while the one on the left, a ginger, just stares dumbfoundead.
“Sir. Samuel? We thought you were dead.” the blonde man that's most likely a soldier says in shock, surely surprised to see him alive. The original Samuel was not a fighter, he supposes that those men he encountered on the beach were supposed to end his life.
Samuel awkwardly puts down his hand from the way he put it up to protect himself. “Um-”
How would the original Samuel act? “-yes, i was able to defeat them. Tell me What are you two doing away from the fight”. He commands.
The war with Trailon is a fight that happens on multiple different islands around the kingdom's border. It's usually just used as a plot device to aid in Percival's darkening by killing off people Percival cares about. If he can defeat the Trailon soldiers on this island and get sent to the duke's manor he can start figuring out the next step to surviving the end of the world.
Both the men look at him strangely after he gives that order. Shoot, did he sound odd was that not something the original Samuel would say?
Unaware of his inner worry, The man with ginger hair responds “Y-yes Sir. the trailon army has come with more soldiers.” he pauses before continuing in a shakier voice. “We believe we should surrender, the trailon army says that if we do they will spare us”
He feels a pit of arriving doubt start to form. That's the way the original Samuel died. The trailon army lied about keeping them safe after they gave up, and killed them.
Sameul sticks his chin up, scoffing at them.
“We will not surrender. We can't only not trust that the trailons will keep their word but surrendering would throw away our honour.” Samuel tells the men. “Show me the way to the battlefield.” he orders.
The two men share a quick look with each other before nodding at him hesitantly. “Sir. Are you sure You want to go to the battle and not surrender?”.
Samuel suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, instead he glares at them. “I won't ask again”
They quickly nod at his harsh tone.
He continues walking deeper into the forest with the men, dodging the various low branches while walking by. Finally they make it out of the forest and into a field, with people running frantically all over. A wall towers above them, With cannons on top shooting off into the distance, presumably shooting to hit the other army.
A quick look around shows that no ones paying attention to him. He starts making his way over to the gate ready to order it to be opened and start the fight. when he abruptly gets stopped by a man. Samuel has to angle his head up to look him in the face. This man is intimidatingly big and burly.
“Sir samuel? Where were you!” the man sounds shocked then that shock turns to anger. “You’ve been marked as dead, you imbecile”
He called him ‘Sir’ but just straight up insulted him. Why would this guy be able to do that? Now that he thinks about it, the two soldiers behind weren't that respectful when they ran into him earlier either. They didn't bow or salute, and even questioned him when he gave them an order and now the guy in front of him calls him an Imbecile.
Samuel clenches his hand into fists in annoyance. It isn't a mystery why these people don't treat him like their leader. Everyone in this army probably already knows why he's been sent to fight in the war. They know he has no social standing back at the kingdom, they probably even know that the evil aunt sent him out here with hopes he wouldn't come back alive.
The guy looks at him impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground. “Go. you must wave the white flag, seeing as you are the general of the army, that's the only way they will accept our surrender ”
Samuel narrows his eyes in irritation. He needs to figure out a way to avoid the end of this world. He'll never be able to do his death if he stays here on this island.
“No.” samuel responds
The guy looks at him in confusion.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Go wave the white flag.” He says more harshly this time.
Samuel takes a breath. “Perhaps you're forgetting something. I am your superior, the only one who should be giving orders here is me.” Samuel slides his sword an inch out his sheath threatening the man.
The guys looks at him angrily and put his own hand on his sword not afraid by samuels attempt at intimidation.
“Sir. Samuel, you are our commander in nothing but name. You have no right to give orders”
He grits his teeth at the contempt in the man's voice Forget trying to act like the original samuel, the original got himself killed there's no reason to act like him. Also all these soldiers are only canon fodder, they’re not important in the actual book, it's fine if they see him act a little different it's not like they'll tell anyone important.
Samuel snears at the man. “You're wrong. I am the leader and this is my army. I will give orders whenever I please.” he narrows his eyes at the man. “And you will follow them”.
The guy has scowls, looking at samuel like he’s lost his mind
Samuel continues speaking. “We will not surrender. Instead we will fight the trailons”.
soldiers that happened to be near them gasp in surprise, then a crowd starts to form.
The guy takes out his sword. “Did you hit your head? You're talking crazy.” A crowd of soldiers continue forming around them, they whisper in hushed scared tones.
The man takes the whispers around them as emboldenment.
“Sir Samuel, you have no knowledge of combat or strategy. If we fight these Trailons we will lose. Some of us have families we want to go back to, lives we still want to live, we will not stand idly by as you throw away our lives”
A few people in the crowd shout in agreement.
The guy swings his sword at him but Samuel ducks out of the way, he swiftly takes out his sword and blocks the next strike that comes from the guy.
Every second he’s not at the mainland making sure that Percival won’t grow up to end the world is a second wasted. The sooner he can end this the better.
Samuel thrusts his sword upward, repeling the other man’s blade up. Then he swings at the man's neck, but the guy jumps back from the lethal attack. Samuel briskly rushes toward the man and lifts his leg up to knee the man in his gut, The man gasps out a breath from the force of it. Samuel raises his hand and takes the other man’s wrist, preventing him from striking with his sword. Then Samuel uses his other hand and jabs the man square in his nose. The man shouts in pain, dropping his sword to put a hand to his bloody nose.
Samuel takes his sword and slams the hilt into the back of the guy’s knee, forcing him to kneel.
All the soldiers that were standing in the loose circle go dead silent. They are both afraid of Samuel and confounded that the weakling lord was able to beat the strongest member of the troops.
Samuel turns around and points his sword at the crowd, the ones closest to the rod of steel shuffle back in fright. “Anyone who fails to follow orders, will answer to me”
The soldiers tense and straighten up. “YES SIR”.
Samuel nods at them. “Good.”
He walks over the man with a bloody nose and roughly removes his sword out of his hand. Then walks atop of a crate, Samuel clangs the two swords against each other until the rest of the people running around stop in the army base stop and stare him.
“I KNOW SOME OF YOU DONT RESPECT ME” Samuel bellows out.
“BUT THAT DOESNT MATTER, I AM YOUR LEADER AND I'M GIVING THE ORDER TO OPEN THE GATE”.
All the soldiers around him pale and freeze in alarm but they all stay quiet.
Samuel turns around and points at the two soldiers who brought him here. “You two, give my orders to the guards at the gate”.
He can see the way the dark haired guy and the ginger visibly pale even more at his words, despite that they step forward out of the crowd and salute at him. One of them jog.
The ginger stays frozen in place, looking terrified.
Samuel raises his brow at him. He doesn’t want to have to beat up more people that he’s supposed to fight with. Even if the guy looks like too much of a coward to openly disagree with him.
Before Samuel can threaten the man with his sword, he speaks.
“S-sir, this is our main camp and we have no chance of beating that army. Just behind those gates are the front lines of the battle.”
Samuel glares at the man. Can this ginger hurry it up with the coward talk already?
The ginger man starts to gesture frantically with his hands. “If you open that gate our base will be completely exposed. I beg of you, don't open that gate.” he demeanor filled, with a terrified and desperate sort of panic.
Samuel hops down from the top of the crate and puts the tip of his blade to the man's neck “go with the other guy to open the gates. I won't ask again.” the ginger haired man gulps, shutting his eyes.
“Yes Sir.” he mutters
Samuel lowers his sword and watches as the man scrambles to get away.
“The rest of you prepare yourselves for the Trailons to breach our Site”.
Samuel doesn't wait any longer; he walks over to the gates as they start to open. He raises his sword as he readies his stance for battle.
The gateway opens and reveals a scene of shouting with the thick smell of gunpowder fill his nose. Cannons were used then.
Men in front of him rush forward to clash with the trailon army. The sound metal clashes ring through the air along the pounding of feet on the dirt ground. Samuel raises his blade and dashes the swarm of soldiers to get to the line of battle. All his attention goes to the fight as he swifty pushes forward, Gaining ground as he moves deeper into enemy territory.
He fights his way onward through the crowd. Once one falls, bloody and unmoving, he moves to the next.
If multiple come at him then they are killed simultaneously.
He sees two distracted and stabs one, then swiftly kicks the other down to the ground and runs his sword through them. He takes his sword out and spins around to strike the man trying to hit him from behind.
Samuels body moves almost on its own as he takes down foe after foe. He feels so detached from himself. Immersed entirely in the battle. Each hit he lands is sharp and clear in his mind.
His proficiency with fighting is well developed. combat is not just familiar to him, it's like he was born to do it. Samuel can sense each precise hit aimed at him.
He moves throughout the battlefield fast, beating down anyone in his path. With every hit he afflicts, more carnage stains his sword and bloodshed smears his blouse. His mind is going almost too fast for him to process, only focusing on person after another.
More and more trailon soldiers drop like flies. Blood flies through the air as shouts of agony and pain are wailed in the air.
He's able to glance up from the swarm of people attacking him and see a tall, grandiose man atop of a white horse. Hes dress head to toe in decorated amour.
That must be the captain. If he can defeat their leader then then the trailon army will become disorganized and without anyone to lead them it will be a quick victory. Samuel sprints his way toward the man with the white horse, rapidly attacking any one who comes his way.
He's almost there. Sweat drips down his forehead and he makes his final dash towards the leader. His sword so close.
Then it all stops.
He falls to his knees, out of breath, Gasping for air. His sword still clutched in his hand as the limb falls limp.
He exerted himself too much. His breathing turns haggard and raw. This body can't handle movements like that. He has to remember that. His head feels dizzy from the quick intake of air.
This isn't his body, it can't fight like he can, this body is much weaker.
A hand lands on Samuels shoulder.
Samuel picks up his sword and swings it behind him at his attacker within the span of a second. But it falls short. The muscles in his arms were too strained to swing hard enough.
Fighting continues on around him but the fighting seems strangely incapable of reaching. It is like the space around Samuel has frozen, leaving him in a moment of stillness.
That moment is broken when The man on the horse gallops over to see Samuel on the ground. “Who is this maggot?” he says with a voice full of disdain.
Samuel continues panting struggling to gain breath back, his eyes feeling like they're bulging out his head.
He has to stand up. He thinks to himself. if he stays on the ground like this he's going to be killed. When he tries to move his legs he gets struck by immense pain, his legs feel so sore. His limbs tremble with the effort of keeping him from falling flat onto the ground.
The man on his steed seems like a stone in a flowing river with all the trailon soldiers running past him, as if their force is as immovable as the current. The man reaches down and grabs Samuel from the scruff of his shirt and picks him up. He raises Samuel's sore and achy body, pulling him high enough until Samuel shakily lifts his head to look the man in the eyes.
The trailon leader looks back at him blankly, staring unfeelingly at him as samuel feels the blood flood into his face to deliver oxygen to his brain.
the man squints his eyes, then his face splits into a wide unnerving smile. Looking at samuels writhing form with pure glee.
“What do we have here?” he says joyfully. “Is this an Avalon soldier who managed to get this far into my troops? How embarrassing for me. How lucky you've stumbled straight to me. ”
Samuel widens his eyes. Panic trickles into him, and For a moment his heart feels as though it stops.
The leader on the horse raises his sword in the other hand.
This man is going to kill him.
All at once a feeling of deep seeded terror arises within him, raw and suffocating. It floods every inch of him with a driving need to do something-anything- before its too late.
He feels his heart pounding in his throat, the dizziness making his vision blur, and for a split second, everything feels like it's slipping away from him, his body betraying him, his strength gone. His hands twitch around the sword’s hilt, desperately grasping, but his fingers feel numb, his muscles too weak to hold onto the weapon with any force.
The man’s grin widens as he raises his blade, the light catching on the metal, making it gleam with cold promise. Samuel’s world seems to slow down, each second stretching longer than the last, as though time itself is mocking him, letting him feel every ounce of his vulnerability before the end comes.
But then, something shifts inside Samuel. A flicker. A burning flame that blazes in his chest.
He feels it in the core at his core—a deep, almost animalistic urge to survive. His mind screams at him, the terror turning into something else—a burning, unshakable determination. He won't die. Not like this. Not here, not now.
He draws in a jagged breath, a sharp hiss of pain as his chest contracts, but his hands tighten around the sword once more, his grip rough and desperate. He can barely feel his limbs, but there's still something left. just enough strength.
Samuel’s legs tremble, muscles screaming in protest as he grits his teeth, pushing up with whatever energy he can muster. His vision swims, but he fights to steady it. His head pounds, but the terror is now something to channel, to use.
In one sudden, explosive movement, he lunges with all the power his body can force through its pain, his sword swinging in a wild arc at the man on the horse.
For a brief moment, the world narrows down to just him, the sword, and that terrifying smile of the leader on the horse.
The blade strikes with a resounding clang—not the clean cut he’d hoped for, but it’s enough. The leader’s eyes widen for a split second, and Samuel feels the rush of adrenaline, and the victory.
But the pain is sharp, and his breath comes in shallow gasps. He can barely keep his grip. The world spins again, but this time it’s not the dizziness of surrender. It’s the dizziness of being on top.
Samuel pulls up his dangling legs and pushes off against the horse launching himself in the air and landing with a flourish. His sword now held tightly within hand.
The man's unnerving grin falls and his expression turns to one of pure malice. He turns his horse to face Samuel with a shout he whips the lead on the mount, charging forward at samuel with a sword poised in hand.
Samuel readies his own sword in front of him and braces himself.
The man charges at him on horseback, the animal gallops at an incredible speed. The man holds his sword out, aiming for the opportunity to cut Samuel's head clean off.
The horse's impact draws near, its feet thumping against the floor. Despite Samuel's pounding heart and still tired limbs. He lifts his sword as the man's blade gets near. He has to survive, it's a raw drive inside him. No matter what he has to keep going. all he can think is—don’t stop. If he lets go, he'll lose everything. he has to stay, he has to fight for it, its a raw primal feeling inside of him.
Samuels tenses his arms, locks his eyes on the man, and swings with all his might.
The man, unable to stop the momentum of his horse, was struck in the chest, the force of the sword lifting him from his saddle. The leader is lifted up then tumbles to the ground, his armor clanging against the dirt.
The horse keeps running, lacking the knowledge to stop without a command from its master.
Without falter Samuel turns around, walking to the man groaning in pain on the ground. Samuel presses the tip of the blade to the mans throat. The man bleary blinks his eyes open and focuses his eyes on the sword pressed to his neck.
“Tell your men to surrender” Samuel increases the pressure from the blade onto the man's neck as a threat.
The man looks at him and scowls. “ you want me to Surrender to avalon scum?”
Samuel presses his blade so close to his neck that a trickle of blood falls.
“im not giving you a choice” Samuel responds unflinchingly.
He's so close to being off this island. once this man surrenders Samuel can finnally leave. he knows hes acting impatient, but who could blame him. This island is the place he is supposed to die, leaving this place might prevent his death from ever happening.
The leader glares daggers at him, his hand twitching in the want to fight back. After a few moments the man looks away, ending the sharp glare.
The man's mouth sets into a grim, defeated, line. then slowly he lowers his hand to his hip, grabbing a small horn that was strapped to his side. Samuel realizes too late that he should probably stop his enemy from reaching for anything, that could be a weapon. instead he is too late, the leader raises the object to his mouth and blows. The horn lets out a bright, powerful, and piercing, harmonic tone that cuts through the battlefield.
Behind him the loud rumble of battle gets pierced by the sounds like multiple other trumpet-like things ringing across the expanse of land.
Samuels tenses and furrows his brows. Even just holding this sword to a man's neck makes his arms ache. There's a faint tremor to his legs that betray his battle-ready stance.
The island isn't that big and no more trailon troops should be hidden but If that horn was to call for more troops that could be hidden on the island he won't last for much longer.
Samuel narrows his eyes at the man in suspicion. And hesitantly turns around to face the two armies clashing together. Then he freezes in shock.
Samuel watches in stunned silence as the soldiers around him—men who had moments ago been locked in brutal combat—begin to lower their weapons one by one. The battlefield, once filled with the clash of steel and shouts of battle, grows eerily quiet. The sharp, harmonic tone of the horn cuts through the tension, and with each passing second, the realization settles over the Tralon soldiers: they are surrendering.
The men who had been charging, fighting with all their might, now slowly begin to hesitate. One by one They glance around. uncertainty written on their faces as they process what’s happening. The sword swings slow down, the battle cries fade. The once fierce Tralon warriors, who had been poised for victory, lower their weapons in resignation, their expressions shifting from anger and defiance to confusion and disbelief.
Far in front of Samuel, his own soldiers stand frozen too, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in the tide. They hadn't expected this kind of end, not so suddenly, not after so much blood had been spilled. This trailon battle was supposed to be a deadly one
The leader on the ground, despite the sword still pressed to his throat, lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. It’s a hollow sound, devoid of pride or triumph. His eyes, though filled with pain and defeat, still hold that glimmer of hatred.
The battlefield is filled with an eerie silence now, the only sound left is the distant whinnies of the horses and the faint crunch of dirt underfoot as soldiers drop their weapons one by one. The atmosphere is heavy with disbelief and exhaustion. Samuel stands still, watching as the soldiers around him—both his own men and the enemy—lay down their arms.
The leader glances up at Samuel, his pride shattered. His breathing is labored, and his face is pale from the blood loss at his neck. Samuel doesn't move, his body trembling from the weight of the battle and the pain radiating all around his body.
The man finally spits at the ground, a last show of defiance, but it’s hollow. He knows he’s lost.
Samuel takes a quick deep breath. He sheaths his sword. Despite how tired he is he has no time to rest. Each moment lost is a second closer to when Percival ends the world. He gets to work.
Within the span of the next hour the trailon soldiers are stripped of weapons, leaving them disarmed. Then they are forced to kneel in the dirt. Despite their glowering faces they are now rendered defenseless. They're going to wait until Samuel can get them transported back to the kingdom as war prisoners. Wait, if this place is an island that means he needs a ship big enough to carry his army and the captured trailon soldier.
Samuel holds his head in a sudden sense of vexation. How is he going to get a boat that large in the first place?
His whole body aches and samuel wants nothing to lay down and pretend this is all just a strange dream, but he can't afford to waste time like. Every second he waits he can feel the ever present fear of his death looming over him.