Arto has never seen anybody like the king of Drakoria. Nothing about him makes sense. When Ulric Von Hohenberg survived the King's summoned lightning, Arto, like everyone else had thought it was because of Ulric's greatness. But then, as he kept casting gnces at the king, almost bringing harm to himself, he realized that Ulric didn't survive because he was strong, but because the King's attacks were...weak?
But how does that make sense? That was a Heaven's command spell. It's not a spell to be taken lightly. Not even Arto's mother, who was a high witch was capable of that. At least not twice in a roll as the king of Drakoria has done effortlessly, so why was it so weak to the point that a no name warrior can survive? Is there a weaker part of the spell? Is that why he can do it twice in a roll? That doesn't sound right.
Arto easily parried an attack from a Drakorian soldier and kicked him fully on the torso with enough force to send him sprawling backward. He didn't bother to follow up with the attack and finish him off, choosing to take the moment to gnce at the king's direction only to see him walking to the battlefield, his bde cloaked with fmes. He looked determined, undisturbed by the commotion his sudden presence caused in the battlefield.
What is he doing? Arto wondered, distractedly killing off an enemy warrior who had come for him while his gaze remained fixed on the king.
Two more enemies came for him so he had to tear his gaze from the king and fight them off.
As he grabbed the st soldier by the face, pushing him away from his bde impaled in his belly, Arto gnced at the king again and saw that he was walking straight at the son of Bjorn,who was engaged in a close fight.
"Vhedric behind you!" he yelled but he doubt the young man heard him amidst the deafening noise of battle.
Arto's body leaned backward, narrowly evading a double-handed sword swung diagonally toward him in a deadly ssh. The sword missed, though not entirely. It tore at Arto's left thigh, drawing blood, but it left the attacker exposed to Arto's quick swing that sent his head tumbling through the air.
Arto turned back to the king, just in time to see his attack hit the back of the son of Bjorn. Vhedric didn't go down from that big hit, but it created an opening for his opponent to slit his throat.
He watched as the son of Bjorn fell to his knees on the blood-soaked earth, clutching his grievously wounded throat. Blood streamed through his fingers, staining his hands crimson, and with a final, desperate struggle, he colpsed to the ground in a fatal descent, his life slipping away.
How can Vhedric take on a hit from a charmed sword like it was nothing but fall to the bde of an average warrior? Is the king truly weak? Then how can he charm a bde? How can he lift a charmed bde?
Questions filled his head with confusion that he thought he was going to go crazy.
He felt someone was coming from behind, he predicted a stab so he quickly spun, his bde leveled and indeed it was a stab. The enemy's sword grazed his flesh as it passed by, leaving a searing wound but Arto's sword connected brutally to his head, cutting it like a bde through a water melon. The enemy crumpled, his brain, along with various cranial tissues and blood, spilled out onto the ground.
Arto turned again to the king, who was now squatting beside the son of Bjorn, flipping his body to have his back upwards. He stared at the body for just a moment, totally indifferent to the dozens of warriors his two knights were fighting against. Young warriors looking for the glory of taking the king's head.
A knight fell but five more joined to protect their king, who has his gnce, nonchantly to the side. Arto couldn't single out what he was looking at but the king stood and started walking towards that direction. He hadn't even taken his fourth step yet and the clouds began to gather like it did in the beginning. It swiftly darkened, lit by unsettling lightning fshes. The air was charged with tension, and then, with breathtaking force, lightning struck once more from the heavens with unmatched power. Not one, not two but eight horrible times. Not even his soldiers were spared. Hundreds id on the ground, and he approached the first. A mage. He seem to hesitate for a moment then lifted his sword high before bringing it down with crushing force upon the mage.
That didn't kill the mage, it seemed. As he left him quickly for his knight to finish off.
A mana infused arrow ricocheted off his neck. Though it made him stumble, he continued like it was nothing to the next man, who bored to rise from the ground, exhausted but resolute. The bde came down heavy on the man's neck, slumping him back down to the ground.
That should have been enough to decapitate a man but the warrior was still alive, though hurt it might seem. A knight pced a foot on the man's back, holding him down as the king raised the sword high and brought it down, stabbing the helpless warrior in the neck.
It's too far to be sure but Arto would have sworn the bde didn't go as deep as it should, and as though to confirm the suspicion, the king raised the sword once more and thrust it down again, and again, and again, as though gripped by madness.
His position became the main focus of the battle as more knights gather to protect their king from the attacks of many who were determined to take down a seemingly vulnerable important target. It became a brutal chaos of limbs and heads flying, tiring out the knights. Even Arto became tempted. In fact he did take a step forward, but then the king stopped. Arto observed a radiant white light emanating from the King's body, extending like an ethereal beam towards the heavens. The light was so subtle that if one hadn't been paying close attention, he would have missed it. For that brief second, Arto felt a terrifying presence but it disappeared to nothingness. His hands trembled and his gaze remained on the king, who was now smiling viciously in the chaos. Arto knew, he has made the biggest mistake of his life.
