Inner Swamp Village,

  The Triangle,

  Central Province,

  ---

  The only thing left of Tenha was the blood on Arthur’s hands.

  Other soldiers who lost their lives were buried, marked by uneven graves carved into the wet soil, but Tenha’s body, though split in half, ruined beyond recognition, was still tied to Arthur’s horse.

  No one asked why.

  No one dared.

  The silence among the men was heavier than their armor. The swampy trail swallowed the sound of their horses' hooves, as if the land itself wanted to forget what had happened.

  They rode like ghosts, beaten and tired, especially for Arthur. He lost his men, something that had never happened before under his command.

  By the time they reached the first settlement, they expected relief. Instead, they found rot.

  The village was barely standing. Half-crushed homes lined the flooded roads. Their wooden frames were bent like ribs caving inward.

  Carts lay broken. Their contents were scavenged or abandoned.

  There was no one outside to greet them. The outskirts felt dead.

  “Where is everyone?” one of the men muttered, gripping the reins tighter.

  The deeper they went, the more obvious the truth became.

  How many times would this happen?

  The first sign of life came in the form of two figures standing by the remains of a half-collapsed watchtower.

  They didn’t raise their weapons when they saw Arthur’s men. They simply stood there, hunched and unmoving. When the group got closer, it became clear why. These weren’t sentries standing guard. They were just... unfit.

  Their armor was mismatched, with the leather hanging loose over their gaunt, underfed frames. One of them looked barely older than a boy. His face was hollow, and his eyes were too wide.

  The other seemed older, but not much better off. His gauntlet had been stripped of its metal plates while his sword was hanging limply from a slack grip.

  Arthur halted his horse in front of them. The boy flinched. The older one exhaled through his nose, staring at the soldiers as if they were hallucinations.

  “We came to help,” one of Arthur’s men said cautiously. “Who’s in charge here?”

  The older patrolman let out a dry, rasping laugh. “No one,” he said. “Not anymore.”

  Silence.

  “Speak clearly, soldier!” said one of Arthur’s men.

  “The beasts... Beasts come every night,” he said hoarsely. “We’re all that’s left.”

  The younger watchman escorted them to where the rest of the settlers were. Weirdly, despite the horrors of this boy's story, Arthur couldn't care less as he kept looking into the void.

  A communal clinic had been set up in an old gathering hall. The wounded lay in rows, some bandaged, while others were barely breathing.

  Dozens...

  That was it, out of a settlement that should’ve easily held more than a thousand.

  A medic gestured weakly at them to bring the injured forward. The soldiers obeyed, unloading the wounded from their horses.

  Arthur...

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Arthur still didn’t say anything.

  He went into a hall and tied Ten’s body to a pillar, and left it there. Propped it up as if he were still alive. As if they were still waiting for his next sarcastic remark.

  No one had the heart to stop him.

  The discussion began shortly after. They needed to prepare. Another night meant another attack, and they didn’t have the numbers for another fight. Plans and strategies were discussed while others had the weapons counted.

  Arthur sat in the dim firelight, listening, but not speaking. He only broke his silence once, to mention his late second in command.

  And when he did, the argument started.

  “You think this happened because of me?” Arthur’s voice was razor-sharp, cutting through the room.

  His gaze locked onto one of his men at a time. He kept searching for that one who might dare to say anything back.

  But no one did.

  Arthur scoffed. “We lost Ten because of this wretched place. Because of these useless walls and these worthless people who let themselves rot instead of fighting back.”

  The silence was suffocating. Someone moved, but no one contradicted him.

  They were afraid, not of his rank, not of his words, but of him.

  ---

  It was getting dark.

  Arthur and Vorkin scouted the area to see if they could find anyone useful from the settlers.

  A boy, not even half their size, brushed past them. He was barely visible under an ill-fitting, worn-out suit of armor.

  He bumped right into them.

  "Hey, watch out, kid," Vorkin said.

  The boy said nothing. But his eyes, they scrutinized both Arthur and Vorkin, raking them up and down. “You’re late,” he accused.

  “What?” Arthur shouted. “You should be grateful we even showed up to help!” He grabbed the kid by the neck.

  The boy still didn’t flinch. “You should have been here sooner. We pay taxes to you, Capital pigs. Where was your protection? My dad is dead because of you.”

  Arthur’s grip tightened, becoming a chokehold, until Vorkin had to seize his arm and wrench the boy free.

  The boy staggered, clutching his throat and coughing as he was released.

  “What did you say?” Arthur replied, his voice dangerously low.

  The boy took a defensive step back. “Are you deaf? If you had come faster, he would still be alive.”

  Arthur gave a short, bitter laugh. He couldn't believe that despite his best efforts—efforts that cost him his second-in-command—he was still viewed as a failure.

  “You little...” He stopped himself, exhaling a sharp, controlled breath through his nose.

  “I lost men. I lost my best friend because of this miserable, forsaken place. And you—” His voice exploded in a rage. “You’re weak. That’s why your father died. If he were strong, if you were stronger, maybe he’d still be alive.”

  The boy’s face twisted with pure fury. “Shut up!”

  Arthur drew his side sword, but Vorkin immediately moved, stepping between the soldier and the boy. Arthur stared at the back of the Lupin soldier's head, though his face showed a mask of indecision.

  The boy’s mother rushed forward, dropping to her knees between them. “I’m sorry! Please, he didn’t mean it—he’s just—he’s just a child!” Tears streamed down her face as she pulled the boy tightly to her chest. “Please, forgive him, my lord!”

  Arthur and Vorkin held their positions, locking eyes over the woman's head.

  Then...

  The noise began.

  A cacophony of monstrous sounds from the outskirts of the swamp.

  Arthur laughed again.

  “Finally... It’s time.”

  ---

  Soldiers poured out to the perimeter of the settlement. Despite the fatigue and the domestic chaos gripping the village, they were instantly ready and coordinating with sharp precision.

  The first wave approached, a slow, menacing tide of Swamp Stalkers and Sandworms emerging from the dense thicket behind them.

  The troops immediately snapped into formation: five-by-five ranks of soldiers formed a pseudo V-shape, shields interlocked, designed to funnel the enemy swarm into a single choke point.

  From their second set of tools, they quickly deployed the portable great shields. These formidable barricades were enhanced with monster-provoking runes, an arcane attractant designed to draw the creatures straight into the trap.

  As the first wave slammed into the funnel, the soldiers, including Vorkin, positioned at the narrow end drew their arcane bows and unleashed a barrage of focused fire.

  Dozens of creatures fell within minutes. Fighting these monsters was dramatically easier when holding a strong defensive line.

  Meanwhile, Arthur rode his spectral steed. Along with the other cavalry, he formed a sweeping net around the village, riding the perimeter to intercept any stray monsters that bypassed the main funnel's effect.

  Here is the revised and improved version of the next section, focusing on clear action, strong verbs, and better pacing:

  Soldiers poured out to the perimeter of the settlement. Despite the fatigue and the domestic chaos gripping the village, they were instantly ready, coordinating with sharp precision.

  The first wave approached, a slow, menacing tide of Swamp Stalkers and Sandworms emerging from the dense thicket behind them.

  The troops immediately snapped into formation: five-by-five ranks of soldiers formed a pseudo V-shape, shields interlocked, designed to funnel the enemy swarm into a single choke point.

  From their second set of tools, they quickly deployed the portable great shields. These formidable barricades were enhanced with monster-provoking glyphs—an arcane attractant designed to draw the creatures straight into the trap.

  As the first wave slammed into the funnel, the soldiers positioned at the narrow end drew their arcane bows and unleashed a barrage of focused fire.

  Dozens of creatures fell within minutes. Fighting these monsters was dramatically easier when holding a strong defensive line.

  Meanwhile, Arthur rode his spectral steed. Along with the other cavalry, he formed a sweeping net around the village, riding the perimeter to intercept any stray monsters that bypassed the main funnel's effect.

  In short order, the wave broke.

  The surviving creatures turned and retreated, melting back into the swamp.

  But Arthur was not satisfied.

  He spurred his spectral steed and rode hard after them, finally summoning his Greatsword from its resting place on his spectral mount

  ---