Clyde sighed deeply as he and his fellow survivors trudged through the desolate streets. Once bustling with life, the city now lay in ruins, engulfed in flames. The voidborns had finally arrived, their assault relentless. The eerie sound of wings flapping echoed through the air, mingling with their bone-chilling screeches. Clyde clutched his Type 67 Crown's Fury tightly against his chest, his breath heavy with exhaustion and dread. His eyes darted around, scanning the shadows for any sign of the vantablack humanoid creatures, their grey armor glinting ominously in the firelight, and their black wings casting dark silhouettes against the burning sky.
The surviving Eklarianian soldiers moved cautiously, their senses heightened by the ever-present danger. The acrid smell of smoke filled their lungs, and the ground beneath them was littered with debris and the remnants of a once-thriving civilization. Clyde's mind raced with memories of the past, of the laughter and joy that had once filled these streets. Now, all that remained was the haunting silence, broken only by the distant cries of the voidborns and the crackling of the flames.
As they advanced, Clyde's grip on his weapon tightened. He knew that every step could be their last, that the voidborns could strike at any moment. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he steeled himself, determined to protect his comrades and fight for whatever hope remained in this shattered world.
The streets, once lined with grand buildings and bustling markets, were now a labyrinth of rubble and fire. Clyde's eyes scanned the horizon, ever watchful for the vantablack humanoid creatures. These voidborns, with their grey armor and black wings, were a terrifying sight, their presence a constant reminder of the peril they faced.
The air was thick with the smell of burning wood and the metallic tang of blood. The distant sounds of artillery and the occasional burst of gunfire punctuated the eerie silence, a stark reminder of the ongoing battle.
Clyde's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He remembered the days before the voidborn invasion, when the city was alive with the sounds of daily life. Now, it was a battlefield, and every corner held the potential for ambush. He glanced at his comrades, their faces set with grim determination. They were all that stood between the voidborns and the complete annihilation of their world.
Suddenly, a screech pierced the air, closer than before. Clyde's heart raced as he signaled for his group to take cover. They ducked behind a crumbling wall, weapons at the ready. The flapping of wings grew louder, and shadows danced across the flames. Clyde tightened his grip on his Type 67 Crown's Fury, his finger hovering over the trigger.
The voidborns were near, and the battle was about to begin. Clyde took a deep breath, steeling himself for the fight. He knew that they had to hold their ground, no matter the cost. For their world, for their fallen comrades, and for the hope that still flickered in the hearts of the survivors.
"Lads, no need to fight, but we have to tear through 'em! We must get back to our company and find our captain!" Clyde shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He aimed his Type 67 Crown's Fury and fired, the bullet striking a voidborn square in the head. The creature screeched in agony, its wings flaring as it lunged at Clyde, sword raised. Before it could reach him, one of Clyde's comrades thrust his Type 77 Imperial Wrath into the voidborn's chest, the high-tech sabre piercing through its armor. With a swift pull, the soldier withdrew the blade, and the voidborn collapsed, lifeless.
The remaining voidborns snarled and charged, their black wings beating furiously. Clyde moved with practiced agility, dodging their attacks. He unsheathed his own Type 77 Imperial Wrath, the blade gleaming in the firelight. A voidborn swung its sword at him, but Clyde leapt to the right, narrowly avoiding the strike. In one fluid motion, he brought his sabre down, decapitating the creature. Black blood spurted from the severed neck, the head flying through the air before landing with a sickening thud. The voidborn's body crumpled to the ground, twitching briefly before going still.
![Dawn Blade [Discontinued / Hiatus] by Izanagimi](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/52168835-80-k95506.jpg)
The battle intensified, the air thick with the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of the voidborns. Clyde's squad fought valiantly, their movements synchronized and efficient. Each soldier wielded their weapons with deadly precision, cutting down the voidborns that dared to approach. The ground was soon littered with the bodies of the fallen, both human and voidborn.
Clyde's heart pounded in his chest as he parried another attack, his mind focused on the mission. They had to reach their company and find their captain. The fate of their world depended on it. He glanced at his comrades, their faces set with determination. They were soldiers, survivors, and they would not falter.
With a final, powerful swing, Clyde dispatched the last of the voidborns in their immediate vicinity. He took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes scanning the battlefield. The flames cast eerie shadows on the ruins, and the distant sounds of battle reminded him that their fight was far from over.
"Let's move, boys," one of the Eklaranian soldiers in their group of survivors commanded, his voice steady. The soldiers nodded, their resolve unshaken. Together, they pressed on, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them in the burning city.
A Grandeurian soldier stood on the other side of the gate, flanked by soldiers from Ragna, Konig, and Neonia. "Over here," he called out, motioning for them to approach.
Given the tense relations between Eklaria, Neonia, and Grandeur, Clyde and his team advanced cautiously. "State your business," Clyde demanded, aiming his Type 67 Crown's Fury at the Grandeurian soldier.
The soldier smirked, stepping closer to the gate, his face nearly touching the barrel of Clyde's gun. "And if I refuse?" he asked, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Clyde's patience was wearing thin. "Then I'll shoot you dead," he replied coldly.
The Grandeurian soldier laughed, a mocking sound that echoed through the desolate street. His fellow survivors remained stoic, their expressions unreadable. "Oh? And if you do, we won't let you in. You poor lads will be voidborn food in no time. How tragic!" he said, feigning tears and rubbing his eyes in a mock display of sorrow.
Clyde's grip tightened on his weapon, his temper flaring. "What the hell are you implying, mate?!" he snapped, his voice rising.
"Lower the damn gun, that's all," the Grandeurian soldier replied snarkily. Clyde sighed heavily, his frustration evident, but he complied, lowering his weapon.
"Fine. Let us in," he said, his tone begrudging.
The soldier's smirk faded into a neutral expression as he unlocked the gate. His fellow soldiers assisted in pushing it open, allowing Clyde and his group to enter. They stepped inside cautiously, their eyes scanning the surroundings.
The interior of the church was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Though damaged, it still retained an air of solemnity. Pews were overturned, and stained glass windows were shattered, but the altar stood resilient, a symbol of hope amidst the destruction.
Clyde's group moved further in, their senses on high alert. The Grandeurian soldier and his allies watched them closely, the tension palpable. "What's the situation here?" Clyde asked, his voice steady but wary.
"We've managed to hold this position for now," the Grandeurian soldier replied. "But the voidborns are relentless. We need to work together if we want to survive."
Clyde exchanged glances with his comrades. The idea of allying with former enemies was unsettling, but the reality of their situation left little choice. "Alright," Clyde said finally. "We'll cooperate. But make no mistake, we're watching you."
