With a flick of the wrist, another daemon falls to his blade. The black-skinned creature collapses in a heap, spilling its blue liquid blood on the ground, mixing with the red that already soaks into the ground. He spins around, splitting bone and sinew, jumps up and away from a reaching claw then strikes forward, burying his long sword through the chest of another. The daemon pushes itself from the blade with spittle escaping its mouth, cursing Neymar with every breath. It drops heavily then scampers backwards out of distance. Neymar steps back, wiping the sweat and blood from his eyes, he flicks the blood from his sword before surveying the battlefield ahead.

They have slaughtered hundreds of us. What are these abominations?

"My Lord?" a voice breaks through the din of battle. Neymar turns and grins at the sight of his general, Danir. His armour is covered with splatters of red and blue.

"Danir, what of the right flank?"

"We are failing, Sire. We will collapse soon if this keeps up."

"That will not do," he seethes. "What of the resistance, are they still fighting?"

"They are, Sire. But—"

"Move!" he bellows, pushing past Danir and slicing down. His sword meets flesh and bone with a crack. He kicks the daemon away, then turns his attention back to the frontline. The ground is littered with broken bodies, covered in a sea of red with a smattering of blue and black scattered around.

"They are retreating, My Lord," comes a shout from further down the line.

Neymar watches as the creatures move back like a swarm, their limbs intermingled, then they separate and stretch out.

"I count twenty, Sire No, twenty one," notes Danir. "About nine or ten lying dead at our feet. How could they have taken so many of us?"

"They are daemons, Danir. Creatures from Valour. But they will not defeat us. Not while I still breathe."

"Yes, My Lord."

Neymar stares at the slaughter that surrounds him, the pure hatred that the creatures have brought upon them all. He stares at them, watching them for the slightest twitch. "I will destroy you all." He turns to see the resistance blockading the route towards the caves. His men no longer fight but keep a rearguard to protect him. "Bloody country folk, to defy me. Madness!" He squeezes the hilt of his blade, his grip becoming tighter as he feels a surge of energy fill him from somewhere. The brightstone. "Form up!" he shouts. "Form the lines!"

He watches as his remaining lieutenant's bark orders, forming them into perfect lines ready to attack or defend. Good, at last, something I can rely on. He calculates maybe five hundred still stand. That will have to be enough—

Shouts and the din of sword banging against shield resonate behind Neymar. His attention pulled, he breaks contact with the Oskari to turn. The noise comes from the resistance fighters, their arms banging viciously, creating a crescendo of sound that carries down to him. And he watches as a hulking warrior with long, dirty, blonde hair thunders down the pathway with a broadsword held aloft in one hand.

"No, you are dead. I killed you."

"Sire is that..."

"I think it... is, Danir. I do not know how—"

He is cut off as the hulking form of Kantos and the remaining army charges towards them like Fury's. Neymar picks out the cool, blue of his eyes staring straight at him. His fingers twitch at the thought of battle once more. He looks on as the leader of the resistance moves within ten paces of his rearguard, but his voice betrays him, his body rigid at the sight of a dead man returning for vengeance. 

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