Fall (1)

The soldiers' clattering armor and weaponry almost makes for a comforting sound. As long as you can still hear them clearly, two things are for certain: They are still alive, and they're currently not in battle. This is what it feels like for Nathan and his three bodyguards, but for the eight other warriors accompanying him on this mission, it's very different. Everytime the tip of his sword strikes against the armor on his back is like the ticking of a clock, one that is running down. Anxiety, rage, excitment, fear, it's hard to decide which of those emotions it is that makes their hearts beat so fast. Their fingers start twitching as they slowly approach the location, but for some reason, neither Nathan nor his bodyguards take notice of the tension in the air.

No, not for some reason - The chosen one himself is the cause. After all, how could the bodyguards feel uneasy, when the one they are meant to protect is seen as the reason other countries do not attack their home? Someone, or rather the one, who appears every few generations, and has so much talent that he's capable of fighting on even grounds with their home country's masters of chi and swordmanship, who have dedicateed their entire lives to their craft, with barely any training at all? No one would ever dare to attack them, and if they tried, he would annihilate the enemy without their assistance, and even protect them while doing so. That is the kind of man the chosen one is - or at least who he's supposed to be. And the man wearing sparse metal armor, consisting of a simple breast plate, open faced helmet engraved with the king's insignia, a three headed wolf, leather armor on his arms and thighs, thick steel plates on his shins, and a brand new, black longsword on his back, is truly a prodigy of warfare. With his tall and broad build, black hair and full beard, and muscles honed to maximze power as well as agility, his mere presence is calming as an ally, and terrifying as an enemy. All of those attributes of his, that he would grow so tall and strong, be more than capable of controlling chi, it's exactly why the king and his advisors decided to have Nathan play the role of the chosen one, when the real one never appeared.

Walking up a grass field next to the immpresively huge misty canyon, a forest comes into sight at the peak. The whereabouts of the elite squads official mission is still about half a day off, but in truth, the plain where the forest begins is the true position of it's start.

It's just a few more steps now. Their heartbeats accelerate. If it weren't for the ribcage holding them back, their hearts would start knocking against their chestplates now. Meanwhile, Nathan is just as expressionless as ever, scanning the area.

Rustle.

In an instant, everyone has their hands on a hilt and assumed battle ready positions, except for Nathan. From where? Everyone's alert.

Rustle.

There it is again!

"It's coming from the bushes!", the advance guard screams.

This is where it begins. The warriors unsheathe their blades, the two archers draw their bows, but Nathan just stands still.

"CHARGE!", a deep voice shouts from inside the bushes, and charge they do.

The rustling is substituded by the voice of surely a few dozen men, all screaming out in fear and excitement, and the loud clattering of armor. A heavily armored beast of a man is the first to enter onto the plain. He roars at his enemies, the elite squad, but before he can even take another step, he drops to the ground, with an arrow piercing his right eye all the was back to the back end of his skull.

The enemy masses storm the squad on the field, screaming, all of them fully armored. Blades swing down left and right, the clashing of metal against metal numbs the ears and blood stains the battlefield in a matter of seconds.

Nathan scans the area. Two enemies approaching from his left flank. He dashes towards them bare-handed. A big downwards swing from the guy on the left. He draws in close, and steps to the left to avoid his blade unscathed. At the moment it sinks into the dirt to his right foot, he strikes his foe's chest with the palm of his hand, adding a lightning fast twist at the ends. Whirr. Rumble. Bolts of electricity emerge from the heavily dented armor, and the man goes flying into a teammate standing multiple meters behind him, knocking him unconcious as well, a loud thunder engulfs the battlefield. The other enemy is stunned. Unable to move in the presence of the monster infront of him, the intensity of their target's gaze is the last thing he notices as a hand feeling feeling like a sharp blade beheads him in a swift movement. An arrow come flying his way. He steps to the right, taps it lightly with the back of his hand, and lets it pass on into the chest of the one trying to attack him from behind. He rips the sword out of his twitching hands, and javelin throws it through the archer's chest. A trail of blue sparks illuminates the viscinity. Three men, all equipped with shields and spears, dash towards Nathan. He launches himself into the one in the middle while grabbing the spear tips of the others mid-air, and pulling them towards one another. As the two gasp for air, each having their teammates spear in their throat, he jumps om top of the soldier he knocked to the ground before, and stomps his foot through his chestplate. Rumble. Thunder strikes the battlefield one last time, meanwhile conflict has grown almost silent. Just a scream or two from the last few attackers being finished off.

"Why didn't you draw your sword?", the newest one of his guards asks him.

"They were amateurs, it would bring shame to my name to have to use my sword for a bunch of low-lives like these.", he says without any contempt, like he is just stating the obvious.

"Yeah, that's right. Probably just some hired-arms from some village.", concludes Wertan, master of the Chi-Kra dojo. "Fucking Idiots."

Swoosh. Thud. Something comes flying out of one of the bushes. Nathan looks at whatever it is generating those splash sounds. A head.

"Isn't that Zahram?!", the young bodyguard screams in shock, unable to move his eyes away from his colleague's unmoving face.

Nathan looks unfazed, and turns around towards where it came from. He unsheathes his sword as his opponent walks into plain sight. An archer takes a shot at the enemy, but he manages to deflect it with his sword. The chosen one approaches him, changing his grip on the sword to ready himself for combat. His enemy gulps. The bows are drawn again.

"What thought proccess lead you to believe facing me would be a good idea when all your allies have been killed already?", he questions him.

"Well, yo..u..u s..s..see.. uhm… my a…a..allies…."

Nathan's squad's archers let loose their arrows. Something is off, he can feel it. As he turns around, he finds his squad member's arrows flying directly at his two remaining bodyguards instead of the enemy. Both drop dead.

"They're still around!", his opponents screams as he charges Nathan.