End of Salazar

he Rebel army slammed their bodies against the gate, preventing entry to the Royal Palace. They grinded against the wood, while some tried to tear at the silver and gold lining coursing through the door, acting like oriental detailing.

The leader watched as his soldiers crashed against the gates like waves breaking upon an implacable cliff face. The ancient stone edifice towered above them, impervious as a mountain, defying their futile attempts at breach.

The Leader knew they couldn't break the gate, so he had already made preparations. Like insects rising from the bog, rebel soldiers emerged from the swampy mists, hauling ladders over their shoulders.

The guards on the ramparts were stunned by the appearance of the ladders and shifted their focus from the soldiers below.

Men screamed as they plunged off the ramparts, falling to their deaths below. Ladders were snatched up again and again, a succession of rebels scrambling up toward the walls even as their comrades perished.

Ladders were ripped from hands, losing their warmth as the damned were cursed to die on this battlefield, forgotten.

It didn't take long for these elongated pieces of roped wood to reach their mark. One after another, the ladders were set up as they leaned against the wall, and Rebels began to climb. The ladders themselves were shorter than the wall, but they were enough for climbers to reach over.

The guards stabbed desperately at the rebel invaders, trying to knock down the ladders. But it was no use. The guards' efforts were but pebbles against a rising tide.

Few were able to reach down and push the ladder, and instead, they found an arrow lodged in their necks as they joined the pile of corpses below.

"Haha, your strategy was perfect, Garrett! With this, it won't take long until they die!"

The Rebellion Leader turned; it was his friend and co-leader Renault.

"I guess so, but it's really too soon to tell."

They stood overlooking the battlefield, waiting for the gate to be breached. The role of those climbing was to eliminate the enemy and get the gate open. It was a tall task, but they had the men.

"Will you use what the Church gave you? Do you really think it is a boon from their lord?"

The leader's face changed as his voice seemed monochrome. "Of course. I have met the Lord personally; he is our salvation."

"Must be an amazing person if that's your opinion after meeting him once. Ah, someone opened the gates! Let's go!"

As they spoke, someone was able to unbar the door, allowing the army to progress inside. It was surprising that this feat was done so quickly, but it only bolstered the thought that luck favored them.

Morale increased on the aggressor's side; they broke in, cutting away at the guards helplessly defending and waiting for backup.

A torrent of guts flew past the frontlines as corpses became the ground that soldiers were stepping on. The change in terrain caused people to slip on the blood or trip on bodies.

It was only now setting in that this was war; before, it was simple slaughter or going against a few opponents. It was different now; the rebels were going against people much more prepared and armed than them, and the battle was on a massive scale, causing many to lose sight of their surroundings.

Paranoia and madness swept through the ranks as the death toll continued to rise. Those at the front were constantly alert and paranoid about their surroundings, and those who were wounded were stampeded on by those replacing them.

As the din of battle waned, an eerie silence fell over the battlefield. Soldiers eyed each other warily, the initial fury fading as fear and exhaustion crept in. This was no longer a clash of steel - it was a battle of wills.

It was at this moment that the battle reached its tipping point; it was the time when either rationality would prevail or madness would consume.

Deciding whether to press on or retreat, Garrett took his axe as his eyes dimmed. He looked hollow as he indifferently charged through his ranks and collided with the defenders. He broke through their line and began to slaughter them in a fit of bloodlust.

Seeing their leader's savagery, the rebel soldiers descended into bloodthirsty madness. With frenzied screams, they pressed on like rabid beasts, hacking their way through flesh and bone. The scales had tipped. Reason was lost to raw, primal violence.

It was a suicidal charge where the troops would throw themselves at the guards and try in any way possible to kill their targets.

Screams and wails echoed as the Rebel army looked more like animals than rational beings to these defenders.

But bloodlust was contagious, and soon even these veteran guards, trained personally by the royal family, met the same fate.

Insanity erupted across the blood-slicked battlefield. Allies and enemies alike dissolved into frenzy, hacking and slashing without reason or strategy. Chaos reigned. Lives rapidly depleted as blades sliced throats and spears pierced necks.

All the while, Garrett had become an unstoppable killing machine as he wreaked havoc, searching for the leader. It was only when he got closer to the royal palace that he saw someone who resembled someone who would be in charge.

An elderly nobleman sat stoically, leaning on an old cane. Behind him stood a beautiful young woman, her face etched with worry as she wrung her hands.

The old man wasn't skinny nor fat; he had a cane, but his complexion was good, and he didn't have too many wrinkles. He wore a red robe that covered him from shoulder to shoulder, and he was speaking to a man who was obviously the leader of the guards.

Like an arrow loosed from its bow, Garrett charged toward the Royals in a blur of frenzied speed.

The guard next to the leader noticed Garrett and prepared his attack; he donned his armor and raised his shield and spear. Garrett raised his axe and pounced on the man with great strength, propelling him.

Above the guard, he swung his axe downward with great force. Bracing himself, the Captain threw up his shield just in time. The axe splintered against it with a resounding crack, jolting his arm.

Garrett heard an audible grunt as the Captain used all his strength to push him back.

"You are the leader? I am Captain of the Royal Guard, Alexis Iphan."

"I am Garrett. You do not need to know my family name, as I have no family left. You and your nobles made sure of that."

"So that is why you joined the Rebellion?" The two looked behind them towards the entrance of the Palace. The older gentleman stood up from his seat and walked towards Garrett, though the girl behind him was unsettled by his actions.

"I understand why you want to free the Empire, but it does not start here. We have already lost our power; all that remains is the young and old here, those who had the opportunity already left days ago. There are only innocents here who haven't done anything to wrong you. We are not responsible for the ones who killed your family!"