Storming the trenches(5)

As the hours dragged on, the struggle for control of the trenches remained locked in a brutal stalemate. Neither the rebels nor the Herculean soldiers could claim dominance, as the battle devolved into a relentless back-and-forth of vicious hand-to-hand combat. Any semblance of order or formation had long since dissolved, replaced by chaotic skirmishes that raged along every stretch of the blood-soaked frontline.

Men fought like cornered animals, wielding whatever weapons they could manage in the narrow confines of the trenches.

A Herculean soldier slammed his shield into a rebel's chest, sending the man falling backward into the mud. Before the rebel could rise, the soldier drove his shortsword downward, impaling the writhing figure. He barely had time to wrench the weapon free before another attacker lunged at him, an axe whistling through the air. The Herculean barely managed to duck, the blade grazing the top of his helmet with a metallic screech.