By The Blood

Dunn rode with reckless abandon, his steed galloping like a raging bull, its powerful hooves crushing the stones beneath them. His horse outran the others, drawing closer to the chaos of the slaughtered Death Runners and the giants who fell under Adolla’s blade.

Though Adolla's flames had entered cooldown, his strength, amplified by his armor, far surpassed that of the weaker giants.

A deep breath in.

Dunn closed his eyes, feeling the familiar emptiness in his heart—an emptiness that could only be filled by the thrill of battle. He forgot the Golden Knight, his fallen archon, the losses to the giants, and even his own self. These were the moments when his mind honed in on a single goal: the death of the enemy before him.

A breath out.

He felt his muscles tense and relax, the cycle repeating like the turning of the world. He opened his eyes, and there they were—the barbarians, the single-eyed giants, the inhuman creatures.

Now! Dunn commanded himself, summoning his helm as flames surged out, sealing it shut. Beside him, Rollo stood, elegant but with a brutal gleam in his gaze. Raising his flame-wreathed blade, Rollo let out a battle cry.

Fueled by the thrill of combat, Dunn parted his lips and roared in unison.

Then, he jumped.

Like before, Dunn leaped from his steed just in time, as several giants brought their clubs down to crush it.

This time, his jump wasn’t as exaggerated as when he had fought Adolla—just a standard, armor-assisted leap. He cleared rows of giants, landing in the heart of the onslaught. His target now was the chief of the company. Kill him and his stronghands, and the giants would lose what little unity they had—not that they had much to begin with.

Upon landing, he swung his blade, severing the heads of two giants in a single stroke. Their necks were left as mangled flesh, as though sawn through. He swung again, bits of flesh and blood splattering as his blade carved through them. But he could do better, if not for most of his armor's abilities being on cooldown.

Not all of them, though.

He opened his left fist, summoning a ball of fire. It was the same power Adolla had used to destroy the falling rock, but Dunn was going to make his larger. He gritted his teeth through the strain of mana usage, causing the flame to grow to the size of a large boulder. He hurled it in a seemingly random direction.

Boom!

Chunks of giant bodies flew into the air, their screams and howls of pain filling the battlefield. Maybe I should keep some bodies intact for those who collect their blood to sell for evolution, he thought briefly, but quickly dismissed it—any distraction could be fatal. He wanted to die, but not due to his own mistake.

Dunn spun, sweeping his blade in a deadly arc, slicing through giant bodies and leaving a trail of blood and death. He kicked a dismembered corpse into the approaching giants. A kick from a shard-bearer had more than enough strength to send a battle-ready giant tumbling.

Rollo was nearby, cutting down a giant with a mix of grace and brutality. Dunn wondered what kind of breathing style Rollo practiced. After all, Rollo had once been a swordsman, then a freeblade, and finally a guardsman recruited into the legion.

Just like Dunn, Rollo sliced through giants with ease, often sawing frantically when a stubborn giant’s flesh refused to yield to his blade.

The giants were roaring, fighting harder and faster. The only way to break their pace was to kill their chief... but where was it?

Then Dunn had a thought. Aren’t there too many for this to be a simple rough camp? Giants loved war and battle, but those near human territory were usually small in number. Yet this company was at least 1,000 strong. Suspicious.

He shook off the thought.

Rollo was getting overwhelmed by the giants, as was Dunn. To protect the archon adept, Dunn quickly moved to Rollo’s side, taking up an optimal position to defend him.

The two shard-bearers fought back-to-back, surrounded by the giant onslaught. They didn’t have to worry about the raining arrows—their armor could withstand them—but the downside was that not many guardsmen were nearby to assist. They were being isolated from the rest of the soldiers.

Why isn’t the archon here? Dunn thought grimly. Yet, despite the situation, the thrill of battle made his heart race. Would this be the place where he died? It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Dying at the heart of a giant onslaught was honorable.

The thrill surged within him, sweet and intoxicating. Dunn kicked away another corpse, making sure to clear space for them to continue fighting. He noticed the giants were growing larger, and an odd prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck—the same feeling he had when approaching a waygate. Could there be a waygate here? Is that how they’re growing larger?

If so, this could turn bad, Dunn thought. As much as he wanted to die, he didn’t wish harm upon the legion.

He cut down another group of giants, roaring at him in anger. He hacked and slashed through blood and flesh, but no matter how many he felled, more seemed to appear. If anything, they seemed to be increasing in number. Still, the thrill consumed him, giving him strength, focus, and resolve. His end seemed near—so close he could taste it.

Dunn had always been a war-master. Ever since he was adopted into the legion by the legion-master himself, he had felt a sense of emptiness. But he never asked for special treatment, and that fact had remained hidden from everyone. Perhaps it was because he lacked memories from that time, but it didn’t matter now. He was going to die here. He—

A sudden force slammed into Dunn, sending him flying through the air. He crashed into an unsuspecting giant.

Wincing, he quickly stood up, just in time to see several clubs inches from colliding with his body. Though his armor could withstand a lot, even it would dent under the force of a giant’s clubbing.

He slashed at the giants surrounding him, killing them instantly. Then he turned to check on Rollo, who was now left to defend himself. What he saw made him freeze.

A figure loomed over Rollo. It was clad in obsidian-black armor, with elegantly interlocking plates. Unlike typical shard-armor, this one was taller, with broad shoulders and a slightly pointed helm. Dunn instantly recognized it from the books given to him by the scribes.

It was a giant's shard-armor!

Rollo quickly formed a ball of fire and slammed it into the giant’s stomach. The explosion boomed, and smoke filled the air. But when the smoke cleared, the giant still stood, silent and unmoving. Then, with slow, deliberate motion, the giant raised the human-sized black hammer in its hands and brought it crashing down toward Rollo’s head.

No! Dunn refused to let this happen. He dashed forward, faster than he’d ever moved, reaching the descending hammer just in time. But he couldn’t stop it—he could only brace for impact.

He shoved Rollo aside, and the hammer slammed into Dunn’s back, driving him into the ground. A crater formed beneath him.

He groaned, hearing the plates of his armor cracking. His back was surely shattered, but he wasn’t going to die facedown in the dirt. That was a coward’s death. With the last bit of his strength, he turned to face the giant in black shard-armor towering above him, its head tilted as if studying him.

This is good, Dunn thought, a hidden smile curling beneath his helm. He was about to die, and this way was better than he’d imagined. The rumors were true—the giants’ armor was superior to human armor. It seemed to be beyond special class—perhaps even desolation class. Maybe the dwarfs built it.

Should I ask his name? Dunn wondered. Despite their prowess in battle, giants weren’t known for their honor. Even if he asked for the name of his killer, he doubted he’d get one. It doesn’t matter, as long as he ends this life for me.

Dunn looked up at the sky—dark clouds swirling in the red heavens, fractured. Red dust fell like blood, and he could still hear the roars of men and giants slaughtering each other. In moments like this, he often questioned the First Order. Was it truly right?

He quickly dismissed the thought—too close to blasphemy. Even in death, he would fall without pride, as pure and glorious as possible. The giant raised its black hammer again. Dunn was ready. He closed his eyes, prepared for the end.

A breath of a moment passed, and nothing happened. Confused, he opened his eyes and saw a gleam of gold shining directly into them. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

A massive figure clad in golden armor stood beside him, a spear plunged deep into the giant shard-bearer.

Then, a voice that echoed like thunder from within a cave said, "Do not keep your back low. Rise. By the Sovereign’s rule, you are to accompany me. Until then, you are not permitted to resign to death."

The Golden Knight jerked his hand, and with a loud boom, the shard-bearer was blown apart—reduced to dust, flesh, iron, and blood. Dunn was stunned. Is this the power of a Golden Knight?

I guess today’s not the day to die, Dunn thought a bit annoyed as he forced himself to his feet, grabbing his chain-sword from the ground. He felt weakened from the impact that had shattered his armor. He would need to repair it before he could fully utilize it again.

As he stood, he froze. Around him was no longer the chaos of giants and men locked in battle, but a field of death—blood, flesh, and the remains of giants scattered across the terrain.

He did all of this in just a moment? Dunn glanced at the Golden Knight, but his gaze quickly shifted to the waygate that had been revealed now that the giants no longer concealed it.

The gate stood just a few meters away, guarded by two giants in black armor and a thinner giant dressed in golden robes. The robed giant was connected to the waygate by strange black tubes, and with each passing moment, he grew paler and thinner.

What is that?

Before Dunn could fully process what he was seeing, a hand reached out from the rippling black gate, and a giant stepped through, wielding a massive club. Then another, and another followed. So this is how they’ve been multiplying? Dunn had suspected something like this, but he still couldn’t figure out why there was no sign of a chief.

The black-armored giants might be the stronghands, but where was their leader? The situation was suspicious.

He shook his head, gripping his sword tightly as the Golden Knight stood beside him. Then he remembered. Where is Rollo?

Dunn quickly scanned the battlefield, noting that several giants were still engaged in combat with guardsmen and legionnaires. He thought grimly, but then exhaled in relief when he spotted the archon adept.

Rollo was being tended to by a few guardsmen, who were carrying him behind the lines.

"What are you looking at?" Dunn heard a familiar voice. He turned and saw Adolla approaching. The Red Legionnaire’s armor was battered, with cracks and dents deforming what was once an elegant plated suit into something resembling second-hand wear.

"You look... bad," Dunn said honestly.

Adolla shrugged, flexing his muscles. "This is enough to handle that."

"I don’t think so," Dunn replied. "Those two are at least desolation class. We can’t stop—"

"No need to worry," the layered voice of the Golden Knight echoed beside them. "I will be joining this fight. I suppose he’s part of the squad?" he asked, his head aimed at Adolla.

Dunn turned to the towering Golden Knight, a thought suddenly crossing his mind. He recalled how the previous shard-bearer had been executed. He then glanced at Adolla, giving him a look that said, Are you in or out?