The Last Knight

Chapter 8: A Stand...

The thunder of galloping horses echoed across the battlefield as armored hooves pounded relentlessly against the blood-soaked earth.

Arrows rained from every direction.

One struck the lead horse squarely in its chest, forcing the beast to rear back with a furious neigh. Yet the arrow failed to pierce its heavy barding, snapping apart as the warhorse surged forward once more.

Despite the weight of its steel armor, the animal never slowed. It had been bred for war... Trained to endure exhaustion, pain, and fear until its final breath.

"This...!" A Red Knight tightened the reins as his horse leaped over the fallen remains of shattered wagons.

"This is the border between Durkenheim and Taraxheim?!" His eyes widened as another volley darkened the sky.

"To think the war is still raging at this scale..." He gritted his teeth.

"...who would've imagined?" Beside him, his companion calmly swept his blade through the air, deflecting arrows one after another with practiced precision as both knights continued charging deeper into the battlefield.

Taraxheim... A kingdom lying northwest of Durkenheim. For decades, a colossal border wall had divided the two nations, separating not only their lands but also their ambitions.

Taraxheim was vast, far larger than Durkenheim ever was. Yet much of its territory remained unexplored. Ancient forests stretched beyond maps, forgotten ruins slept beneath the earth, and legends claimed that remnants of an age older than kingdoms themselves were buried beneath its soil.

Now... At the border between Taraxheim and Durkenheim, war raged without mercy. The soldiers fighting beneath Durkenheim's banner were no longer the kingdom's own knights.

They were allied villages. Men and women who had answered Durkenheim's call, unaware that the kingdom they bled for had already fallen.

"FOR DURKENHEIM!" A knight roared, charging across the blood-soaked field with the kingdom's banner raised high above his head.

Before he had taken another step... An arrow pierced straight through his neck. His charge faltered. The banner slipped from his grasp.

Blood poured between his trembling fingers as he instinctively clutched the wound. He staggered once... Twice... Then collapsed face-first into the mud. The flag of Durkenheim landed beside him.

Others rushed forward to reclaim it. Others fell just as quickly. Neither army showed mercy. Steel clashed against steel. The cries of the dying disappeared beneath the thunder of battle.

"It seems this truly is their final stand." Karax narrowed his eyes as he observed the battlefield from afar.

"The allied villages have been surrounded." His gaze shifted toward the distant command camp.

"The Council is barely holding the line as well." A quiet sigh escaped him.

"Soon they'll fall. Dead or alive... They'll kneel before us."

"Karax!" Himmed pointed toward the smoke rising in the distance.

"That's Iron Captain's encampment! If it falls, the entire western flank collapses!" He tightened the reins.

"We're still a long way from Taraxheim's Border Gate! We have to reach them!" Without another word, both knights urged their horses into a full gallop. The battlefield blurred around them.

Then, the earth erupted beneath their mounts. A violent explosion hurled both riders into the air.

Their armored horses cried out in agony before crashing lifelessly onto the scorched ground. Himmed slammed hard against the dirt.

For several seconds... All he heard was a high-pitched ringing. Blood trickled down the side of his left arm. He forced himself upright, shaking away the dizziness.

"I never even saw it..." His eyes darted toward the remains of his horse.

Dead. He immediately searched for Karax. A second explosion erupted before he could even call his name.

Karax was blasted through the air like a ragdoll. His armored body smashed against a boulder before rolling helplessly across the ground.

"H-Hrk..." A pained groan escaped him. The battlefield suddenly fell silent around Himmed. Not because the war had stopped... But because someone was hunting them.

Karax crashed beside Himmed, his breastplate splintered with fresh cracks from the blast. For a moment, Himmed's vision blurred as the ringing in his ears drowned out the chaos around him.

"We need to move!" Karax barked. Without waiting for a reply, he seized Himmed by the arm and hauled him to his feet. Himmed stumbled for several steps before finally regaining his balance and running alongside him.

"Where in the hell are they getting this many explosives?!" Himmed shouted over the roar of battle. "Don't tell me this is their last resort... or did they recognize us as Zartorious Knights because of our armor?"

"Doesn't matter!" Karax snapped. He slid behind a massive boulder overlooking a two-level drop, using the natural formation as cover.

"Our concern is the bastard throwing them!" He tightened his grip around his weapon and prepared to move... Then, a lit stick of dynamite landed directly between them.

Their hearts stopped.

"HIMMED!"

Without hesitation, Himmed ripped the enormous shield from his back and slammed it over the explosive with all his strength.

The explosion thundered beneath the shield. Earth burst apart. Stone and dirt erupted into the air as the impact forced Himmed to one knee, his arms trembling beneath the force.

Smoke slowly drifted upward.

"...Nice save!" Karax exclaimed. Before Himmed could answer, Karax grabbed his arm and hurled him upward with all his might.

As Himmed rose above the smoke... He finally saw him. The bomber. Standing calmly amidst the battlefield with another stick of dynamite already burning in his hand.

"Not only does he throw with impossible accuracy... His timing is flawless. He must be the reason this war still hasn't ended. Who the hell is he?" A sharp click echoed from Himmed's shield.

The gears hidden within its frame shifted into place. Steel unfolded. The massive shield separated into twin gauntlet-shields fitted with razor-edged daggers along each wrist.

Himmed landed. The instant his boots touched the ground, he charged.

"HIMMED! I JUST REMEMBERED!" Karax's voice thundered across the battlefield.

"BE CAREFUL! THAT MAN..."

"...HE'S A FORMER SHADOW!"

"A former shadow..." Himmed slowed for only a fraction of a second. Then he looked ahead. The unknown man had already begun walking toward him.

His eyes... Cold. His body... Scarred by countless battles. His killing intent alone made the surrounding soldiers instinctively avoid him. Neither army dared interfere.

It was as though both sides silently agreed... This fight belonged to them alone. The former shadow came to a halt. His gaze never left Himmed. Then he spoke.

"A hero dies and becomes history." A step forward.

"A shadow dies and becomes nothing." Another. His grip tightened around the burning dynamite.