The Genesis of the Dead
'What is my purpose?' He thought as he gazed at the carnage that surrounded him. With every step he takes countless perish, with every action countless mourn. Behind him legions so vast they cover the horizon and blot out the heavens. His soldiers, servants, friends, children. 'That's right.' He remembered with a tinge of melancholy, 'This is my purpose.' Author's note: High fantasy setting, with a heavy emphasis on action, army tactics, political schemes and world building. No harem and very little romance.
Chapter 42
The three-on-three fight began in earnest as Bolis used his hunk of metal weapon to charge forward toward the still swordsman. The air seemed to vibrate with the sheer force of his movement, his heavy boots pounding against the ground with a dull, ominous rhythm.
"Now!" he shouted, his voice a guttural roar that echoed across the makeshift arena. As his image doubled, two identical figures emerged, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. When faced with two identical enemies coming from either side, Ken couldn't block or parry them both. Instead, he relied on his agility, skillfully dodging one while parrying the other. The clang of metal on metal rang sharply, drawing gasps from the crowd.