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Description
The ground trembles beneath my feet as the horde advances; my grip tightens on the sword’s worn hilt. They come screaming, a tide of iron and rage, but this land is mine to defend. My blade meets the first attacker—a swift parry, a step to the side, a clean strike across his throat. Blood sprays; I don’t flinch. Another charges with an axe; I pivot, letting momentum carry him past me, then drive my sword deep into his back. They keep coming. I move like wind and stone—rooted yet fluid, striking with precision, using their force against them. My shield shatters under a heavy blow; I discard it without hesitation, fighting now with blade alone. Every cut, every dodge, is measured. Fatigue burns in my muscles, but my will is iron. I am the wall they will not breach. I am the storm they cannot weather. The bodies pile around me, but still they come. Can I survive? I must. There is no other option. This is my land. This is my fight.
