Questions of Loyalty

Darkness had descended as night enveloped the world, with only the campfire's flickering flames breaking through the inky blackness. Andre's tired men, their faces red from fatigue and merriment, eagerly ate their small portions of food while exchanging tales and humor under the starry sky. As they gradually fell asleep, each one settled into their improvised sleeping arrangements, the steady sounds of snoring indicating how exhausted they were.

However, after just a couple of hours, Andre suddenly woke up with a deep feeling of danger in his stomach. He listened intently, the quiet broken by the clear sounds of warfare – the clashing of swords, the harsh shouts of men fighting.

He quickly got up, feeling his heart beating rapidly, and put on his armor, the loud metallic sounds reverberating in the quiet of the night. Emerging from the trees, he encountered a chilling sight that made his blood run cold.

His soldiers, disoriented and surprised, were engaged in a brutal battle with a band of... humans. Their bodies were covered in shining armor worn by crusaders, their faces hidden behind sparkling visors reflecting the dim moonlight.

Andre was filled with anger. These individuals were not Vor'talon, they were humans, assaulting a weary group of soldiers late at night. He let out a defiant shout and rushed into the battle.

He collided with a heavily protected individual, his shoulder making a sickening crunch upon impact. The man was briefly shocked and took a step back. Amidst the chaos, Andre noticed the leader - a colossal figure wearing dark red armor and holding a huge warhammer.

He channeled the dark magic of Endless Stride, the familiar prickling sensation spreading through his veins as he teleported directly in front of the leader. His fist, imbued with unnatural power, connected with the man's gut with a sickening thud. The crusader doubled over, air wheezing out of his lungs, propelled backwards with a sickening crunch.

The other men faltered, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden turn of events. Andre took the opportunity to explain.

"Hold!" Andre yelled, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "We're not enemies! And we are not Rebels. We're the 10th Legion! We're here to liberate the Azurean Empire!"

The words he spoke lingered in the air, a tense silence enveloping the battlefield. After that, the leader, cleaning blood off his mouth, snorted dismissively.

"Liberate?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You, with your… darkness?" His eyes narrowed, locking onto the swirling black Mana Arc pulsating on Andre's chest. "Demon!"

Anger surged in Andre's heart. He wasn't a demon anymore, he was simply a soldier with a special skill and he was tired of everyone thinking he's evil.

Before he could retort, the crusader leader raised a hand, revealing a radiant rune etched on his palm – a stylized cross. With a guttural chant, a blinding white light erupted from the rune, engulfing Andre in its harsh radiance.

He screamed, his vision momentarily obliterated by the divine light. Pain lanced through him, a searing sensation that left him reeling. As the light subsided, he stumbled back, clutching his chest, coughing violently.

Andre, powered by an instinctual fury he hardly acknowledged, stood up with a grace that went beyond human boundaries. Revenant, throbbed with a sinister craving as he held it. Dark, twisting strands of energy, with a subtle scent of sulfur and rot, wrapped themselves around his body.

"Finally awake, are we?" A guttural voice rumbled from Andre's chest, laced with something inhuman. A cruel smile twisted his lips, sending shivers down the spines of the remaining Crusaders.

However, a sharp pain suddenly flared up on his neck. Father Michael's farewell present, the silver talisman, suddenly glowed with a divine light that felt like it was burning Andre from within. He let out a roar that was more animal than human as the ominous aura flickered out and disappeared.

Andre moved quickly and aggressively, while Revenant swung with precision, causing havoc among the Crusaders.

The leader of the Crusaders, had little time to defend himself with his shield before being hit. The nauseating sound of metal and bone grinding together reverberated through the destroyed church. The leader fell limp, lifeless, from the impact of the blow.

Andre's men let out a primal roar. The tide changed direction. His soldiers, encouraged by their leader's comeback and the unexpected death of the enemy's main fighter, initiated a brutal retaliation. The sound of steel colliding echoed in the air, followed by the sickening noise of bodies falling to the ground.

Andre delighted in the disorder. Filled with a metallic and tangy taste, the flavor of blood was present. The fight, the kill, it was all a primal release, a way to drown the grief that gnawed at him. In the heat of battle, there was no room for sorrow, only the brutal dance of survival.

"No one," he rasped, his voice hoarse from exertion, "no one messes with the 10th Legion." His crimson gaze swept over the battlefield, a chilling promise hanging in the air. He was a force of nature now, a monster unleashed, and for his enemies, there would be no mercy.