A fully armoured, middle-aged man stood slightly hunched and out of breath, a claw-like wound bleeding down one half of his sweating face. He raised a leather gourd, gulping down an entire mouthful of water before pouring the rest onto his face to cool the wound.
"Fucking demons..." he spat on the ground, where a humanoid-like figure lay dead, a sword impaled straight through its chest. The defeated creature, unlike the middle-aged man, had thick red muscles bustling with power. It looked more terrifying with long, sharp fangs protruding from its mouth and a set of dark, curved horns jutting from its forehead.
The man, refreshed, tossed the gourd to the side and grabbed the sword's handle, a sloshing sound escaping as he pulled the blade from the corpse. As he laid the sword to rest on his shoulder, the sounds of the fiery battlefield returned to him. He turned to be greeted by a gruesome scene.
Countless knights were battling against similar creatures — demons towering two heads taller, fighting barehanded. Each demon faced two or three knights, as the human force vastly outnumbered them. Yet it still wasn't enough, as it was hardly a challenge for the towering figures. They easily absorbed direct sword strikes, grabbed knights, tore them in two, and splashed fresh, warm blood across the sand beneath them.
On the horizon, countless battleships were approaching under fire, while mages flew over the battlefield, sending out destructive spells — managing to sink a few ships before quickly retreating to the castle walls to aid archers in taking down demons locked in combat with the knights below.
"Hold your ground!" the clawed man shouted as he readied his sword — a demon had broken through the knights' defensive line.
He sidestepped, dodging claws aimed at his heart, and quickly brought his sword down, severing a red, fearsome head that dropped to the sand.
"Why is the attack today this intense?" he frowned, watching hordes of flying creatures carry demons, dropping them onto the battlefield before rushing toward the castle walls, targeting the suppressive fire of the mages and archers.
These flying creatures dropped dead near him, no match against the defending firepower. Still, their efforts were slightly effective, as the demons below — along with the battleships ahead — could slowly advance without the fear of being struck down by lightning or fireballs.
With every defensive force stretched to the brink, a loud, deafening roar echoed throughout the entire battlefield. Its origin: the main battleship leading the attack, ominously stationed at the far edge of the horizon.
A red streak flashed out of the battleship, parting the sea in half as it dashed toward the beach. Upon reaching the battlefield with unstoppable momentum, the red flash carved a path of blood as it indiscriminately bashed through everyone in its way.
The clawed man frowned — the red flash would reach him in a matter of breaths.
And within the blink of an eye, the clawed man — one hand on the sword's handle, the other gripping the blade — braced for impact. The red streak struck him, sending him a few steps back, managing to stop its momentum.
Hands slightly shivering, the clawed man raised his head. Ahead of him, a figure slowly emerged from a cloud of sand, flapping its wings once to clear the obstruction — revealing a red demon, similar to the one he had impaled. But this one was bigger, with red, fleshy wings on his back and sharp horns pointed at the cloudy sky.
"No wonder you managed to take down my number two." The demon laughed, baring his sharp fangs as he kicked aside the corpse of a horned demon blocking his way.
The clawed man stayed silent, clenching his sword with both hands. A green aura slowly engulfed the entire blade. The demon stared curiously at the mysterious glow, grinning widely.
As the demon blinked slightly, the clawed man suddenly vanished — reappearing at the demon's blind spot. He slashed his sword with all his strength.
His eyes widened — the sword didn't go through as expected. Instead, the blade was embedded in the demon's thick red skin. Dark black liquid poured from the wound. No matter how hard he pulled, the blade wouldn't budge a single inch.
"In my entire life, only a few have managed to make me bleed," the demon growled. His dark eyes turned blood red, thirsting for combat. In a heartbeat, he thrust his arm like a hammer, sending the clawed man crashing toward the castle walls, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
"You are strong — just not strong enough. Remember the name of the warrior who defeated you: Robur!" the demon roared before flapping his wings and turning into a red streak that shot high into the air. He flew over the castle, tanking every single arrow and spell thrown at him.
It didn't take long for the demon Robur to leave the entire battlefield, floating beneath the grey sky as he stared in a certain direction, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
"I'm coming for you, little sheep."