Men rushed forward, cleaving down any goblin they came into contact with, leaving no creature alive. At the head of the charge was Lucian, blinded by rage and fury. Three goblins leapt at him, but he raised his shield and bashed forward, sending them stumbling back. He surged ahead—his sword driving through one goblin's chest, then slicing the head from another, and finally cutting the last one clean in half. It was a one sided massacre, every passing second was paid for with goblin lives.
The battle was slowly turning in humanity's favor.
Saturn charged through the goblin ranks, grinning and laughing wildly. With every swing of his axe, two or three goblins fell. Jay, standing with his archers atop a nearby roof, rained arrows from above—each of his headshots a silent promise (I see you, you die).
The goblins soon realized they could not advance any farther. Fear crept into their eyes like that of frightened pups. Even then, the men did not relent. Blood spilled freely until at last the goblins broke. They retreated from the walls and tried to flee into the forest.
"They're retreating!" a soldier shouted.
"No…" Lucian growled. "RUN THEM DOWN!"
Bloodlust burning in their veins the soldiers chased the retreating swarm past the shattered gate and into the open fields. The goblins fled in a frantic tide, tripping over roots, rocks and their own dead as they scrambled toward the trees.
But Lucian's men were faster. Steel met flesh again and again across the grassy plain. A few goblins managed to slip into the forest's shadows, disappearing into the dark. But most were cut down before they could ever touched a tree bark.
The snarls and screams grew distant as the survivors fled, until the only sounds that remained were the heavy, ragged breaths of the men who had fought with death at their side.
Lucian stood at the forest's edge, his chest rising and falling beneath dented plates of armor. Blood dripped from his sword in thick and dark strands. Saturn leaned heavily on his axe, panting, while Jay descended from the high ground with his remaining archers quivers nearly empty. Men sank to their knees, clinging to whatever strength they had left.
A bright glow rose over the horizon, touching the broken walls as though congratulating every man who had stood his ground.
Dawn had come.
But happy endings are all but fairy tales, rewards born from suffering and givers of false hope…