Mad Berserker

The archer raised his bow, aiming at Hugo. He pulled back the string as far as it could go and released the arrow. 

Hugo caught the arrow with his bare hand, snapped it in half, and charged toward the archer. The archer quickly abandoned his bow and went for his sword, still strapped to his horse. But it made little difference when facing a giant blacksmith. 

As Hugo swung his hammer, it collided with the incoming sword, shattering it in a single strike. The broken tip flew dozens of meters away.

The surprised archer tried to flee, but it was too late. A hammer crashed into his chest, shattering his ribs. Another blow followed, then another, until he was reduced to a mangled mess. Blood pooled across the entire area, painting a gruesome scene.

Hugo wasn't finished yet; a couple of soldiers he had stealthily avoided were now drawn to the sounds of his fight with the archer.

They were now about to face the wrath of Hugo, the bayonet. The carnage had just begun.

As the soldier on horseback dashed forward upon sighting him near the fallen comrade, Hugo grabbed the horse's saddle and pulled himself up. Riding swiftly, he charged toward the soldiers, hammer in hand.

The soldier's sword slashed through the Blacksmith's chest, blood gushing out like a fountain. But it wasn't in vain—Hugo brought his hammer down with force, smashing into the soldier's helm. The poor helm shattered, crushing the head encased within as part of the soldier.

The sight was so horrifying that the fellow soldiers were frozen in shock, as their comrade's head was hammered into a tin can.

But Hugo didn't stop. He swung his hammer again, and this time the soldier couldn't react in time. The force of the swing cleaved his head clean off, so precise it looked as though a sword had been used. 

The rest of the soldiers blinked in shock—some tried to run away, while others stood frozen in fear.

The frozen soldiers fell one by one, each swing cleaving through necks, sending heads arcing through the air like grisly comets.

Those who ran were spared—for now. Every blow Hugo landed thundered in their wake, a shockwave chasing their heels. But none dared to look back. Behind them roared a Mad Berserker.

Horses shrieked, pools of blood splattered across the once-green field, guts dangling, ribs shattered and piercing lungs. It was gruesome and dreadful.

Cries and cries, an ear-piercing sound of agony, drowned out by the deafening roar of a monster consumed by primordial rage. He was destruction incarnate.

The scene resembled a dance, a dance of destruction and finality. It was a furious display of chaos, murder, and hatred.

All the soldiers who didn't retreat were now dead, their bodies mangled and scattered meters apart from one another.

Finally, the Berserker halted, but it was merely an illusion. He charged down the path taken by the retreating soldiers, rampaging like a monster. His mount, now equally consumed by dreadful bloodlust, galloped madly like a crazed hound pursuing the fleeing soldiers.

His eyes glowed a fiery red, his hooves blazing as they thundered down the path. He seemed more like a monster than a mere mount.

-

The lantern's glow dimmed to a faint flicker, sending long, wavering shadows across the barn walls. Outside, the wind carried the faint clatter of boots and iron—soldiers were on their way.

Evans knelt by the cellar trapdoor, brushing dirt from his palms. "Get in there. Stay quiet. Don't come out until I'm back."

The mother clutched her child tightly and gave a shaky nod, her eyes brimming with both gratitude and fear. Behind her, three others, a frail old man, a ten-year-old girl, and a limping farmer climbed down into the dark crawlspace one by one.

"But what about you?" the mother asked, her voice trembling.

"I'll lead them away," Evans murmured, his voice steady despite the tremble in his chin. He managed a faint, comforting smile. "They won't ever catch me."

She paused for a moment, her hand hovering before she gently took his arm. "You don't have to..."

"I do." His gaze locked with hers, steady and unwavering. "Someone has to. Better it be me, I have a higher chance of outrunning them or at least hiding."

He slammed the trapdoor shut, sliding a broken crate over it as the voices grew louder. Grabbing a rusted pitchfork, he smeared soot across his face and limped out through the side door.

By the time the soldiers stormed into the barn, torches blazing, Evans was already down the road, yelling, "They went that way! Through the orchard!"

He didn't glance back. If he did, his resolve might falter.

-

Evans sprinted through the woods, soldiers on horseback pursuing him, the thunderous sound of hooves growing closer with each passing second.

But then he noticed another group closing in from the front. His heart sank as he realized a squad of soldiers was charging toward him. It seemed like it was all over...

But something about this group was different. They weren't coming to capture him—they were running from something. And that something was dozens of meters behind them, hidden in the cloud of dust.

Evans noticed the fear in the eyes of the approaching soldier and was puzzled about what could cause such terror. However, his priority was to get out of their way. Even if he wasn't their target for now, staying in their path could mean being trampled to death.

There was a dried-up riverbed just beyond the pass through the woods, and Evans only needed to reach there first. Once there, he could jump down and take the dried-up river path. It wasn't impossible—he could have made it if only the archer of the pursuing squadron had realized there was something more important to save his arrow for. The archer fired at Evans, and the arrow passed through his shoulder from behind. Fortunately, it missed its mark, leaving him wounded but not fatally.

Evans groaned in pain, "AGHHHHH!" 

Still, he kept running, bleeding heavily and leaving a trail of blood behind him. 

He was just meters away from the riverbed, but it was too late. The incoming squadron collided with him as they ran, throwing Evans back several meters. Luckily, he landed far enough from the trail; otherwise, he would have been trampled.

The cloud loomed ominously, revealing a figure—a man or perhaps a monster—brandishing a hammer and riding a horse of doom in relentless pursuit. It felt as though the apocalypse had arrived, with the gods unleashing their servant to purge the earth of its sins. The scene was utterly terrifying.

Evans was bleeding heavily, his vision fading as consciousness slipped away. Just before his eyes shut completely, he caught a glimpse of the monstrous figure hunting the soldiers like a rabid beast. It was...

A strained, raspy whisper escaped Evans' lips, "Father..."

The retreating soldier finally encountered the group chasing Evans, and they too were baffled to see their comrade fleeing in terror.

"What's going on? Who are you running away from?"

A voice filled with agony and dread screamed, "Monster! A monster! The blacksmith is a monster... RUN, RUN, RUN! He'll kill everyone!"

Another yelled, "He killed the vice-captain! With that bloody hammer, he smashed the helm along with the vice-captain's head... He's a monster! Everyone else is dead, and we're going to die too!"

Hearing such dreadful news, they were paralyzed with fear. They glanced at the back of the group and saw a man wielding a hammer, charging toward them.

"He's getting closer! We have to retreat to the captain—only he can save us!"

Now, every soldier turned back, running towards their captain and the main force.

-

"Damn it, you call yourselves soldiers and can't even stop a damn blacksmith!"

The officer turned around, searching for the girl, but she had long since escaped. Frustrated and angry, it seemed like he was about to take out his rage on his subordinates again, but surprisingly, he refrained.

The officer shouted, "Where is the damn girl? You let her escape... where are your eyes?"

"Go find her, but don't kill her just yet. I still need to teach her a lesson."

The soldiers rushed into the forest in search of the girl. The odds were against them; they barely knew the terrain, while the girl had spent her entire life surrounded by it. It would be a miracle if they managed to find her and escape the wrath of their captain.