Who... Are You?
I looked down at the Blade of the Fallen King, the once gleaming steel now darkened with blood and soot. The armor that encased me felt like a second skin, a powerful shield that had protected me from the onslaught within the throne room. I could feel the eyes of the knights and guards on me, their questions hanging in the air, the weight of their expectations pressing down on my shoulders.
For a moment, I hesitated. The man they saw before them, clad in armor of legend and wielding a blade of power, was a far cry from the Eldric Valen they had known—the Copper-level prince who had struggled to even lift a sword properly. But that man was gone, replaced by someone forged in the crucible of battle, someone who had faced death and emerged stronger for it.
"I am Prince Eldric," I said, my voice steady but tinged with the weight of my words. "But I am also more than that. I am the protector of this kingdom, and I will not let it fall."
The knights and guards exchanged glances, uncertainty and awe warring in their expressions. But there was no time to dwell on their doubts. The battle was far from over, and the barbarians still raged outside the castle walls, threatening to bring the entire kingdom of Eldoria to its knees.
I turned to the captain of the knights, Ser Rodrick, who was still catching his breath from the battle inside. His armor was battered, bloodied, and he looked up at me with a mixture of shock and relief.
"Ser Rodrick," I called out, stepping forward. "We must rally the remaining forces and push the barbarians back. They've breached the castle, but we will not let them take it."
Rodrick nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. "Aye, Your Highness. But… I must ask—how… how did you…?"
"There will be time for questions later," I interrupted, my voice firm. "Right now, we need to regroup and fight. Can I count on you, Rodrick?"
The old knight's eyes flashed with renewed determination. "Of course, Your Highness. We'll drive them back to the hell they crawled out of."
With that, Ser Rodrick began barking orders to the remaining knights and guards, rallying them to his side. The men, though weary and bloodied, responded with a collective roar, their spirits lifted by the sight of their prince standing tall and strong in the face of the enemy.
I led the way out of the throne room, Ser Rodrick and the knights following close behind. The sounds of battle outside the castle walls grew louder as we approached the entrance, the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded filling the air. The heavy wooden doors of the castle had been splintered and torn apart by the barbarian onslaught, and as we stepped through the shattered threshold, the full scope of the battle outside came into view.
The courtyard was a scene of utter chaos. Fires burned in the night, casting flickering shadows over the bodies that littered the ground. The barbarians, their savage forms illuminated by the flames, surged forward in waves, crashing against the beleaguered defenders like a relentless tide. The few remaining soldiers and knights fought valiantly, but they were vastly outnumbered, struggling to hold the line against the overwhelming force.
But as we emerged from the castle, a hush seemed to fall over the battlefield. The sight of me, clad in the Armor of the Last Vanguard, wielding the Blade of the Fallen King, seemed to give the soldiers pause. The barbarians hesitated, their bloodlust tempered by the sudden appearance of this armored figure leading the charge.
"Men of Eldoria!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the din of battle. "This is our land, our home! These barbarians think they can take it from us, but we will show them that Eldoria does not fall! Rally to me, and we will drive them back!"
The soldiers, seeing their prince standing unbowed before the enemy, let out a mighty cheer, their morale bolstered by my words. The guards and knights that had followed me from the throne room took up the cry, their voices joining in a unified roar of defiance.
I raised the Blade of the Fallen King high, the runes along its edge glowing with a fierce light. The barbarians, seeing the determination in our eyes, faltered. They had expected an easy victory, a kingdom on its knees, but what they faced now was something far different.
"For Eldoria!" I cried, charging forward into the fray.
The soldiers followed, their battle cries echoing through the night as they surged after me. The barbarians, taken aback by the sudden counterattack, scrambled to regroup, but I was already upon them. The Blade of the Fallen King cut through their ranks like a scythe, each swing of the sword leaving a trail of death in its wake. The shield on my arm absorbed their blows, the reflected damage sending them reeling as they tried in vain to break through my defenses.
Beside me, Ser Rodrick fought with a ferocity that belied his years. His sword flashed in the firelight, cutting down any barbarian foolish enough to get in his way. The knights and soldiers rallied around him, forming a tight defensive line that pushed the barbarians back inch by inch.
The battle was fierce, the courtyard filled with the clash of steel and the roar of battle. But we were gaining ground. The barbarians, once so confident in their victory, were now on the defensive, their ranks breaking as they tried to retreat under the relentless assault.
I pushed forward, cutting down the enemies in my path, my focus unyielding. The weight of the armor, the power of the sword, the adrenaline pumping through my veins—it all combined into a singular purpose: to protect my kingdom, to drive these invaders back to where they came from.
One of the barbarian chieftains, a massive brute with a spiked mace, charged at me with a roar, his weapon swinging down with the force of a falling boulder. I met his attack head-on, raising the Shield of Aegis to deflect the blow. The mace struck the shield with a resounding crash, but instead of breaking through, the shield's reflective magic sent the force back at him, causing the chieftain to stumble.
I seized the moment, bringing the Blade of the Fallen King down in a powerful arc. The blade bit into the chieftain's neck, severing his head from his shoulders in one clean strike. The headless body crumpled to the ground, and the barbarians around him hesitated, their leader's death sowing chaos in their ranks.
"Press the attack!" I shouted, urging the soldiers forward. "Drive them back!"
The knights and guards surged forward with renewed vigor, cutting down the retreating barbarians with ruthless efficiency. The tide of battle had turned, and now it was the barbarians who were on the run, their once overwhelming force scattered and broken.
As we pushed the invaders out of the courtyard and back toward the outer walls, I caught sight of a group of barbarians attempting to breach the gate. They had set up a battering ram, smashing it against the weakened wood in a desperate bid to break through. If they succeeded, it would open the way for reinforcements to pour into the castle, and all our efforts would be for naught.
"Ser Rodrick!" I called out, pointing toward the gate. "We need to stop that ram!"
Rodrick nodded, his face grim as he rallied a group of knights to his side. "With me, men! We hold the gate!"
I followed close behind, the Blade of the Fallen King cutting through the last of the barbarians in the courtyard as we made our way toward the gate. The battering ram crashed against the wood again, splintering it further, but we reached them before they could deliver the final blow.
I leaped into the fray, my sword flashing in the firelight as I cut down the barbarians manning the ram. They fell back in disarray, their attempts to push the ram forward thwarted by the sudden onslaught. Ser Rodrick and his knights formed a defensive wall around the gate, their shields locking together as they held the line.
The barbarians, realizing that their last hope of breaking through the gate was slipping away, let out a final, desperate roar and charged at us with everything they had. But we stood firm, our defenses unyielding as we met their charge head-on.
I fought with everything I had, the Blade of the Fallen King a blur of steel and death in my hands. The Helm of the Undying Flame flared with fiery light, the flame shield erupting around me as I pushed forward, cutting through the enemy ranks with merciless precision. The barbarians' weapons glanced off my armor, their attacks blunted by the sheer power of the equipment I wore.
Ser Rodrick fought beside me, his sword rising and falling with deadly efficiency. The knights and guards held their ground, their shields forming an impenetrable wall that the barbarians couldn't breach. We were a force of nature, an unbreakable line of steel and fire that pushed the invaders back step by step.
And then, with one final, concerted effort, we drove the barbarians out of the gate. They fled into the night, their morale shattered, their forces broken. The remnants of their army scattered into the darkness, retreating into the wilderness from whence they came.
The battle was over.