A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Then he lowered his shoulders, as a goblin would, and bent his knees, and he circled.

"What's he doing?" One soldier asked, unnerved. Beam hadn't dared to practise this style in front of the soldiers that often, knowing how strange it looked. But today, he didn't care what strange looks he received – he knew there to be potential in it, or at least he thought there to be. He saw a road to greater strength through it, and so he put it to work.

The hobgoblin grew cautious at Beam's changed stance – the fear in its eyes already grew. It was already unsettled to see a human moving differently to what it had grown accustomed to. Beam's footwork was erratic. He didn't step in carefully as he would before, where one foot would lead, and the other would follow, keeping him balanced.

Instead, he moved around playfully, erratically, without thought to his feet, yet still somehow he kept his balance under him, like a wild animal.

He circled the hobgoblin, cutting in space here and there, slowly sensing the flow of battle, controlling the distance between the two of them with threats. Even though he moved like a monster, he didn't force himself to stop the sense for battle that he'd built up. Instead, he augmented the two.

Without even really being able to understand what was happening, the distance between the hobgoblin and Beam shortened, until the beast was well inside Beam's sword range. It only seemed to notice that too late, for it gave a panicked swing of its lumber across the horizontal, but Beam was already moving past it.

He rolled under the log, and towards the hobgoblin – a feat of acrobatics that he would normally be loath to attempt, unless he was putting distance between himself and his enemy, and he knew they couldn't reach his back.

Coming out of that role, his sword had fallen into reverse grip in his hand, and he slashed at the hamstring behind the hobgoblin's knee, buckling it.

Even with its hamstring severed, it was still mid swing with that heavy log. The extra momentum carried it, tilting it off to the side. The only part of its body free to move was its eyes, and they met Beam's, full of terror.

As it fell, Beam regripped the sword, allowing it to fall straighter in his hand. He used that added reach to drive the point below the creature's armpit, and through all the upper organs of its ribcage.

It landed in a messy pile, with its limbs strewn out at unnatural angles from the unbalanced nature of its fall. Even with that fatal wound Beam had delivered it, it continued to struggle, even as its green blood pooled beneath it.

Beam's sword found its neck next, and finished the job.

The soldiers had watched, unnerved, as the brutality took place. Of course, they were somewhat used to Beam's fighting by now – but not once had they ever seen him move in such an unorthodox way. Beam noted the unease emanating from their direction, and he wondered whether this style of monstrous fighting would be particularly effective against humans.

"…Get the first squad out there to deal with the corpses," the officer said, after a stunned moment in silence.

"Yes, sir!" A sergeant saluted in response.

And so the corpses were dealt with. Beam's eyes were already focused on the next wave, though, as he sought to strengthen his blade, as he aimed to control that which was in his reach, and achieve greater strength, before the calamity that his master had warned them of truly befell them.

With such thoughts on his mind, Beam fought, and he fought relentlessly.

By the time midday came around, he'd dealt with over a hundred different monsters. The waves seemed to come thicker than they had before, and there was less time to catch his breath than he usually had.

Around this time of day, he would begin to eat. The soldiers had brought rations over for him as the shift changed and new men replaced the old.

He would eat what he could in between bouts of fighting, before returning back each time for more food before the next wave. It was when he was forced to eat like that did the soldiers really understand how far they were pushing him, though few had yet to see him like that.

They grimaced as the shift changed, realizing how easy they had it, with mere three-hour shifts compared to the dawn until dusk duty that Beam had taken up.

Usually, a man would volunteer to take care of Beam's food for him, to ensure that he was able to refuel himself as swiftly as he needed to. That man was usually a soldier lesser in rank. But today, it was a young man with a blonde beard.

"Vice-Captain," Beam said, surprised, as Tolsey held onto a tray for him. A steaming bowl of stew and a piece of hard bread to mop it down with. He'd even placed an apple on the side.

As he took the bowl of stew from the tray, the boy cast his eyes towards the trees. He figured that the Vice-Captain had something to say – he was making sure he had the time to listen.

His eyes didn't pick up any signs of life yet, but the trees were thick, and that didn't mean there were no monsters there. Understanding the urgency, and the meaning behind the look, Tolsey hurried to fill him in.

"There's chaos in the village," Tolsey explained. "Eleven children went missing before dawn. The villagers are frantically out looking for them. There's been calls to get the soldiers involved as well. The Captain thought you should hear it."

Beam accepted the words with a slow nod.

"Did you hear what I said?" Tolsey pressed, when Beam did not reply.

"I heard you. What of Greeves and the prostitutes?" Beam asked.

"Nothing yet. They're being held until more evidence has been gathered."

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