Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

”DIEEE!” A man shouted as his hammer slammed into the side of an enemy soldier, the sickening crunch of bones shattering under the brutal impact echoing through the din of battle. The soldier collapsed, lifeless, but he barely spared a glance at the dying men before he bellowed once more.

”To the gate!” he shouted, rallying his men. ”Break it down! Forward!”

The man had short brown hair, his locks damp with sweat beneath his helm, and his piercing blue eyes gleamed with determination as he led his men forward. The night was thick with tension, but his gaze never faltered, fixed on the gate ahead. His helmet, dented from past battles, bore the proud crest of House Retioa engraved on the front, symbolizing his house.

Charging ahead, he swung his war hammer with brutal efficiency, his every movement purposeful, his battle cry echoing through the night.The man was the commander leading this night attack, recommended for the role by his uncle Lord Landoff, directly chosen by the emperor himself. His name was Willios of house Roetia and right now he was fighting for his life

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It was deep into the night,when the operation began . Willios and his men had encountered no trouble scaling the outer wall, moving like shadows in the darkness. They crept closer to the tower, emboldened by the silence of the slumbering garrison.

But as they neared their objective, disaster struck. A lone guard, patrolling the high wall, spotted the mass of men below. His eyes widened in panic, and before anyone could react, the blaring sound of a horn cut through the night. The eerie wail echoed across the city, alerting every soldier within the walls.

From the heart of the city, the castle stirred to life. The silence was quickly replaced by the shouts as soldiers poured out of their quarters.

Willios glanced behind him, his brow furrowing in frustration as he saw less than 200 men following him. Far fewer than he had expected. He muttered a string of curses under his breath, his grip tightening on the handle of his hammer.

”Not enough... damn it,” he growled, realizing the odds were more against him than he’d hoped.

Without wasting another moment, Willios turned and led his men down from the tower. The night cloaked their movement, but the sound of armor clanking and boots hitting the stone betrayed their presence. He moved swiftly toward the right, where the gate stood the prize of the mission

”Move quickly!” he shouted back to his men ,as one of his soldiers finished off the man that discovered them , his blue eyes gleaming in the darkness as they filled with a silent panic .

The men fought like rabid beasts when the enemy finally met them , their desperation fueling every strike as they pushed forward toward the gate. They knew there was no turning back, their only salvation lying in the success of their mission—opening the gate and allowing the larger force outside to flood into the city. The clang of steel against steel filled the air, the frenzy of battle making them reckless, each soldier throwing himself at the enemy with a ferocity born of fear and necessity.

Willios swung his hammer with brutal precision, crushing the side of an enemy’s helmet, the sickening crack of bone echoing in his ears. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he pressed on, leading the charge. Around him, his men surged, hacking and slashing their way through the opposition, their desperation palpable.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos of battle, Willios heard shouts coming from the top of the wall. For a moment, panic seized him as he thought the guards were signaling to cut off his retreat, but then he realized something strange. The shouts weren’t directed downward at his men. They were aimed outward, toward the battlefield beyond the walls. His brow furrowed in confusion, his heartbeat quickening even though he did not stop moving for a second .

His eyes darted toward the source of the commotion, and in a flash, he understood. The soldiers outside had heard the horn. They knew the operation had been compromised. But instead of retreating, they were using the chaos to their advantage, trying to scale the wall and take a foothold themselves. It was a gamble,and yet the most beautiful thing that could have ever happened to him right then ,as any men that was used to defend the wall, was one less man stopping them from reaching the gate.

”Forward!” he bellowed, his voice hoarse but resolute. ”To the gate! We end this now!”

With a fierce battle cry, he smashed his down onto the nearest enemy, the impact reverberating through his arm as the soldier crumpled to the ground, leaving it to be finished by any of his soldiers.

Around him, his men fought with equal ferocity. He could hear their shouts—angry, determined, and raw with adrenaline—as they clashed against the defenders. Willios weaved through the fray, every movement a blend of instinct and training. He dodged a sword swipe aimed at his side, the blade whistling just past him, and retaliated with a swift swing of his hammer that sent him sprawling

As he pressed on, he glanced back at his men. The men following him were becoming less and less but it did not matter.

They pushed forward, forming a chaotic but effective front, each man fighting not just for survival, but for a chance to turn the tide of battle. He could see one of his soldiers, grappling with an armored guard. Willios charged in, swinging his hammer sideways and catching the guard in the knee. The man fell with a howl, and his opponent quickly took advantage of the opening, driving his dagger onto the neck of the men

”Keep pushing!” Willios shouted, rallying his men. ”We’re almost there!”

With each step closer to the gate, the defenders fought harder, their shouts echoing against the stone walls. Willios ducked beneath a sword aimed for his head and struck out, smashing the guard’s helmet with a resounding crack. He could hear the wind rushing past him, the sounds of the fight blending into a chaotic symphony of clashing steel, grunts of exertion, and cries of pain.

Suddenly, an enemy soldier lunged at him, sword raised. Willios raised his shield deflecting the blow before he retaliated immediately, swinging his hammer in a wide arc. The heavy metal connected with the soldier’s midsection, the sickening sound of impact echoing around them. The man doubled over, gasping for air as Willios followed through, bringing the hammer down again, this time onto his head.

”Don’t let them regroup!” Willios bellowed, eyes scanning for the gate. They were close now, but the defenders were relentless, pouring in from all sides, trying to encircle the small group of attackers. Willios felt the adrenaline surging in his veins, a fire igniting within him. With a fierce roar, he surged forward, his men following.

They were almost at the gate, and with every strike, every clash, Willios felt the hope of success pulling him onward. ”Push! We will take this city tonight!” he yelled, leading his men toward the final push against the gate, their collective might colliding with the last line of defenders.

A sharp clang echoed through the chaos as a blade struck Willios’s helmet with tremendous force. The impact jolted his head sideways, and he felt a sudden, blinding pain as the edge of the blade cut into his brow, slicing through skin and sending blood gushing down into his left eye. The world tilted, the din of battle fading momentarily as he staggered, desperately trying to clear his vision from all the red on his face .

Through the crimson haze, he swung his hammer instinctively, but the blow missed its mark. Instead, he felt a sudden force as a boot connected with his side, sending him sprawling to the ground. Willios grunted as he landed hard on the cobblestones, the air whooshing from his lungs.

Gasping for breath, he tried to rise, but a heavy foot stomped onto his chest, pinning him down. Panic surged through him as he struggled against the weight, his heart racing. With his good eye, he caught sight of a menacing figure looming above him, a sword raised, its tip aiming down. The soldier sneered, ready to deliver the fatal thrust that would end this fight.

Just as the blade descended, there was a sudden blur of movement, and the weight on Willios’s chest vanished. He blinked in surprise, blood still clouding his vision. He took a moment to wipe the crimson away from his face, clearing his sight enough to see the battlefield once again.

The soldier who had been poised to kill him was now crumpled on the ground, the life snuffed out of him with a sword piercing his neck. Willios didn’t bother to look back; his focus sharpened with the instinct for survival. He surged to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins like fire, and without a backward glance, he moved forward, hammer in hand, ready to rejoin the fray.

Willios stumbled back into the fray, hammer gripped tightly in his blood-stained hands. In the confusion, he hadn’t noticed that his shield had been knocked from his grasp, in its abscense he uncosciously snatched up a sword from a fallen enemy

The clang of steel on steel filled the air as he swung the sword, feeling its bite as it parried another blade. He fought with reckless abandon, his instincts guiding him as he hammered against the tide of foes.

Willios focused solely on the fight before him, unaware that they had pushed through the defenses and reached the gate itself. His world was a storm of clashing swords and the grunts of exertion, everything outside did not matter. Every muscle in his body was alive with adrenaline as he wove through the melee, his thoughts consumed by the immediate threat.

But then came the sound of triumphant cheers came from behind hi. Willios turned, his breath catching in his throat as he saw thousands of men pouring through the gate. Relief and excitement flooded through him, and he raised his sword, roaring in triumph just realising that he had done it.He did not know how many of the man he led were still alive but it mattered not .

He had succeeded.

But before he could celebrate,darkness swallowed him whole, and the last thing he felt was the weight of his body crumpling to the ground from a blow coming from behind.