A Goal (6)
Days at the bridge would go somewhat like this:
Wake up, prepare,and change shifts.
You'd work at least three hours before you tasted breakfast, but by then it would be brunch. But it was understandable, in a way.
Money was not an infinite resource and the collective monthly wages of over two hundred guardsmen on top of the resources needed to feed such a force, it didn’t hurt to maximize every cent.
But oftentimes, there were moments in which they encountered tasks that they weren’t paid enough to handle.
Tonight was such a time.
Bang!
A loud noise rang throughout the southern part of the bridge fort. Something collided with the iron gate. It was loud enough that it crossed out the possibility of it being nothing.
“Eric, grab the bows.”
The commanding officer didn’t spare a second and issued an order. Eric, the soldier he was in charge of, followed without question, answering only with a nod of his head.
“Sir,” Eric rushed over out into the balcony overlooking the arch of the gate, “Do you think–”
“Don’t, Eric. We’re soldiers, we don’t think about it. We act.”
The officer knew what his subordinate was trying to say. It may have been the feared monster of the night, the same monster that walked slowly on four legs, but regardless if it was, they had a job to do.
Protect the gate.
There simply wasn’t a reason to guess whether or not it was the monster, because they still were to respond regardless. Thinking about it was only a waste of precious time.
“Fuck!”
But it wasn’t, thankfully. Instead, it got problematic in a different sense. Instead of a monster, it was a person. His existence alone brought up many questions.
Why was he on that side of the river?
Could it be a new monster?
Was he a threat to the City? If not, how should they proceed?
The two guards looked over the balcony, feeling the heavy rain instantly saturate their clothes. A cloaked figure had his fists pressed against the bars in anger.
“Fuck–” He cursed again, turning his back to the gate.
He was quick-witted and drew the sword on his back, shedding his cloak. He was going to fight and anything that inhibited his movement was unnecessary. Whether or not he survived till dawn, is up to him.
He was a tall person with black hair and white skin, an uncommon sight.
“Sir.” Eric drew on the bowstring, an arrow already rested on it, ready to fire at his command.
“No, don’t.”
The officer observed the stranger and kept his silence. They had no reason not to shoot, but if this stranger somehow reduced the load that these soldiers would have to carry, so be it.
***
I look at the monsters slowly entering my field of view. They were not armed but they were numerous. My body was riddled with bruises and soreness but I couldn’t shake off the beating of my heart.
I was shaking, not from the cold but at the face of death. I heard someone talking above me, two people, but by the fact alone that the gate was not raised, I was on my own.
Screaming for help would be a waste of strength. It would be a waste of my energy if I were to say anything. My body felt so sluggish because of the pain and the weight of my very wet clothes.
But I don’t have a choice. I’ll swing my sword even if my bones give out! I’m not dying! Not when my second life just started!
***
“Ahhh!”
The stranger roared at the monsters, whether it was fear or rage, the commander couldn’t tell.
Instead, he just watched.
The stranger was obviously battered and beaten to the point of near-exhaustion, but he fought with such determination– no, that wouldn’t be accurate, he fought with desperation so great he overcame his fatigue.
There was no thought, no finesse, no technique in his swordsmanship.
He was a novice at best, inexperienced at least, but his sword was more accurate than any professional the commander had seen, especially in his current state.
But as the fight went on, he seemed to move before the monsters, almost as if he knew how they would move.
Who was this person?
What was he desperately fighting for?
The monsters that surrounded him were cut down into chunks before they faded into air, leaving nothing.
How many more hours was he going to keep fighting?
What a strange person.
The Commander was the head of the garrison of the city for many, many cycles, yet he has never seen someone like this. The sun had risen but the stranger still hadn’t fallen.
Eric looked at the commander. “S-Sir…”
“Tell them to open the gates. Take that man in for questioning and fetch a potion from the alchemist.”
“O-Okay, but–”
“I’ll cover the cost. I think I just found the solution to our ‘extermination problem.’”