Damian couldn't believe it, suddenly the surreal situation he had found himself in didn't seem so distant anymore, he had managed to keep his mind in check, trying his best to feel excited to protect his settlement, convincing himself that these were just his brains final moments, trying to understand what was happening before everything went dark one last time…but no, hell he had even told himself that it was just like a game and that he was a fictional protagonist destined to win in the end, but no.
Reality had dowsed him in a bucket of ice cold water, bringing his senses to the forefront as his realisation rolled through his mind, at first he didn't seem to move much at all, just slowly walking over to a thin section between two larger buildings, then as he was covered by their cool shade, he slowly lowered himself to the floor.
Sitting with his back to the wall he couldn't help but feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, his eyes were wide and his shallow breaths were quickly turning rugged and quick, an indescribable pain gripped at his chest, he tried to reach through the stone armour to no avail, to clutch where his heart was, as each second passed his eyes grew wider, his breath drew in quicker and his chest grew tighter and tighter.
He tried to calm himself with the breathing and mental tricks he had been taught but they simply weren't enough anymore, how could they be?! They were meant for regular people to fight regular wars in a regular world, and he was as far from that as one could possibly be, his mind spiralled as tears began to form in his eyes, rocking slightly he could help but let out laughter. It was short at first, small chuckles here and there but soon it turned constant and unbearable yet he couldn't help himself, he could feel the tendrils scraping across his mind, as pieces of his sanity were torn away, never to be recovered.
He had felt hopeless before, back during his tour in Europe, he had lost the will to continue fighting many times, after seeing the damage his country, which was meant to be the greatest country in the world once, had done to another just for a taste of their resources, he had lost hope in the future, but the thought of his wife always drew him back, and the smile of his daughter had washed away those fears.
But now, with his world in turmoil from all the infected running rampant, and the fate of the one he was now trapped in written in the blood of enemies and allies alike, he knew it was only a matter of time before everything he cared for was gone, ripped away and broken, never to be repaired again.
He sat in the alley for some time, the only thing that interrupted the pained laughter was when he threw up from time to time, his body felt weak, drained of all forms of strength it once had, he knew he and his fellow soldiers stood no chance out there, so what was the point of even fighting anymore, he knew their outcome and it was clear to see anyway, they were all going to die a horrid death, so what difference could one soldier make in a war like this, no one would even notice he was missing, he could stay here and wait for the next few cycles to pass by before falling to the judgement of an angry god.
However a small part of him still hung on for dear life, the part of him which was trying so desperately to be heard over all overs, the part of him which wanted to return to his family, to be by their side and protect them no matter the danger, the part that was willing to fight for what needed to be done.
He may have rejected that he could change the tide of the battles to come, and maybe he was right but he had seen a path forward, he knew, something deep inside knew he could do it, or at least die trying, he had seen the power of individuals in this conflict, hadn't he already declared that he would strike down the enemy commander himself?
A foolish idea really, he knew, just from watching her briefly that he stood no chance against her in a fight, she was fast, powerful and to lead an army like that, most definitely incredibly skilled, if a nameless soldier had nearly been enough to kill him, what chance did he stand against someone like her. The answer had hit him like a ton of bricks, he may have been stranded in a terrible desert, facing impossible odds, but he wasn't alone. If one man couldn't win alone maybe five together could, if not 5 then ten, and if not ten try twenty.
A seed of an idea had managed to plant itself into his mind, and soon it had blossomed into a plan of attack, but it wouldn't be easy, from what he knew he only had two more nights to finish her off for good, his plan was as simple as it was dangerous, he wanted to not just strike the enemy, but direct the forces of truth in a unified assault.
The last time they went out there they mainly thought as individuals, fighting whoever happened to get in their way, it worked for now but it wasn't enough, so now he had two options, he either had to convince a group to follow the lead of a relatively unremarkable soldier into what would appear to be certain death, or do what he was best at, supporting his allies by striking down key individuals.
The second way unfortunately seemed like the only viable option, he would act alone, striking out at key targets at close range, either killing them outright or injuring them enough to let his allies take them down himself.
He had noted during the previous night that some enemies had went straight past him whilst others charged him down, before he had simply thought they didn't care enough to go for him, but with what he knew now it almost seemed obvious, he had accidentally been concealing himself during the fight or more accurately concealing himself when the enemies drew to close, but he wasn't invisible, but maybe it was just enough to allow him to slip by unseen, just another random soldier who disappears into the crowds.
Having taken off his helmet he could feel a gentle breeze guiding across the sands, slowly caressing his face, his torn flesh still stung but there was nothing to be done about it, the camp from his observation had no first aid station, no infirmary, as if they knew it was pointless in the end, and the basic meals cooked from the meats of slaughtered creatures left him feeling nauseous, despite tasting pretty good all things considered.
Whipping his tears away as he finally stopped laughing he thought back to what had caused this sudden turmoil, his conclusion of the nature of his trial, the origins of his stolen body, the mystical nature of the world he had found himself trapped in had all been too much to handle all at once, it was simply overwhelming.
If that wasn't enough he had to deal with his enemies as well, coming in different shapes and sizes, he had broken them down into three distinct categories, the slaves, beasts and finally the Legionnaires.
The slaves were the easiest to spot, covered in nothing but torn pieces of discarded cloth or broken sections of armour at best, they were clearly untrained civilians who had been forced to fight in this war, he didn't know if they had sold themselves into slavery or if they were forced to fight against their will, but in the end it didn't matter, they were the easiest to dispatch but made up a good portion of the enemies attacking force, their lack of coordination and numbers make them unpredictable and whilst posing little danger on their own, can be properly frightening in a group.
The beasts were the next largest and as such a bit harder to define into a single group, the only trait they all shared was the fact they were not even human, or even close to resembling them, some were large dogs, others were lizard like, the Desert Scourge, being one such beast, whilst others were almost insect like, with thick carapace and exoskeletons and powerful claws, stingers and the like, they tended to be slower but more powerful, with the more agile ones being used as mounts by the final grouping.
The Legionnaires, there were two types of Legionnaire that he had noticed, the first was the standard foot soldiers, they were highly skilled and dangerous warriors, using conventional weaponry like swords, halberd and spears for the most part, they used tactics and cunning to make sure they killed their opponents as brutally as possible, but they typically acted alone or in small groups at most, the next type were the Centurions, powerful soldiers, clearly distinguished from the rest by the fact they are the ones who rode upon mounts, commanding small groups as a leader, fortunately they were few and far between, with Damian having killed one of them already.
Knowing the enemy was only half the battle however, he also knew that he had to understand how each enemy felt and what they would be thinking during a fight, it was a difficult task indeed and he didn't even try to figure out the minds of the beasts he had seen.
As he went through his mental exercise of slowly working his way through the motions of his enemies he kept a mental image of what he would look like and as such what he would do, at first he was a slave, with a half broken sword and barely strung together leather armour he would approach the enemy with caution, knowing his low defence would be easy to exploit from a range, so he would move in quick to try to end it fast.
Next he thought about the Legionnaire foot soldiers,with their decent armour and keen battle mastery they would come in quickly, relying on their better training and ignoring a proper defence upon first approach.
Finally he thought about the Centurion he thought before, how he guided the Desert Scourge with the chain connected to its jaw, directing its movements, only using the weapon when needed, and with deadly proficiency, thinking about how the chain would feel in his hand he couldn't help but think about the memory he had received earlier upon his victory, suddenly his eyes grew wider as a cloud of pale sparks appeared around his hand, as a slightly rusted chain, with spikes either end, wove itself into existence, resting comfortably in his hand.