Marleyan Soldier 소설 & 이야기

Chapter Forty-Seven: Opening The fighting was brutal, with an overwhelming number of soldiers. If it hadn’t been for Eli’s brethren joining them, they would have been wiped out by the sheer numbers that poured through the portal in the short time it was opened before it closed. Marek fought as hard as the others until all he could see was a pile of fallen and smell the coppery tang of blood in the air. “We have to get back to the Council.” Eli looked wary, but seemed determined to ignore the reality of exhaustion.

I wiped the eye-slits of my mask and barked at the two Betas standing nearby in shock. A few yards away, Mara was pinned under a snarling vanguard soldier who had fully shifted into a mangled mid-form. He had his jaws locked onto her shoulder, tearing at the meat. Mara didn't cry out. She had both thumbs jammed into his eye sockets, pushing until the soldier let out a high-pitched yelp and his eyeballs literally gave way. This was the reality of the fight. No elegant swordplay. Just the sound of wet breathing, the squelch of boots in gore, and the sickening crack of breaking bone.

"If you do not see it. It cannot hurt you" Everyone has one 'soldier'... or more... that they are born with. 'Soldiers of the soul' where you know them, you trust them, but you are convinced they are your 'instincts' instead of your 'invisible friend' from long ago. They walk in the shadows and are always with you... Even when you are lost and alone, though they cannot come into the light, but they can warn you from things they are able to see. Have you ever felt like that?

Mara Johnathan is filthy and smells of death, but I don’t care. I roll into his arms and cuddle tightly against him. It’s all I can do. I can barely move as it is. I feel as if a bulldozer ran over me, and left me on the streets to bleed to death. I can't process it. All that blood, the pain, the suffering, the death. I even feel sorry for the human soldiers who had to endure that brutal battle.

"Are you really soldiers? You all appear to have abruptly quit drinking your mother's breast milk and decided to fight werewolves." The soldier lost his temper at last and fired a shot at him. The bullet went right into the side of his stomach. Marcus kept his face straight despite the pain spiraling in him. "Is that all you got?" The soldier aimed at him again but the other one stopped him and began to drag him away. "I like my tea with honey," Marcus named after them.

"But remember this: the Hallowed power you carry is tied to your emotions. If you rescue him out of pity, the light will be soft. If you rescue him out of a claim of ownership, the light will be a blade. Decide now which one you want to wield." Before I could answer, a low whistle echoed from the scouts' position. Mara was on her feet in an instant, her hand signaling for silence. From the ridge above us, the sound of rhythmic marching drifted down. It wasn't the chaotic footfalls of the Shadow-Walkers. This was the disciplined, heavy tread of Blood-Crag soldiers. "Patrol," Leo hissed, sliding down from a lookout point. "About twenty of them. They’re carrying something... some kind of machin

A total of 50 soldiers were riding through the grasslands. Each of them was muscular, vigorous, and attention-grabbing. These men could only be described with the word "robust". Even dressed in armor, one could see the muscles underneath. A man, in his 30s, with skin tanned from sun exposure, short hair, and black eyes sharp as a sword, looked at the man behind him. "Marshal, we are approaching the first village." "I know Captain."

His lips pecked my cheeks softly, and before I could digest all what had been said, his figure disappeared out of my sight. ~RIKAS~ I dragged my sword on the grounds, causing a disturbing sound as the metal graze into the solid. I could have used magic to disappear with Sofia if i had wanted to run away. They were a fully equipped Martian soldiers with horses and shields, backed by a large herd of the sly Erisian soldiers. “Surrender your weapons!” Said, the soldier at the forefront. I mentally noted that he could probably be their commander, or even one of the generals since his uniform stood out in color. Though it was still different from the one Rotip wore.

A soldier approached, young, maybe twenty, with a crossbow slung over his shoulder and burns covering half his neck. His eyes flicked between us, landing on me with barely concealed horror. "What... what happened out there? Where are the others?" Marcus didn't answer, he just kept walking while the soldier followed. "Marcus, I asked you a question. Gregor, Hale, the triplets, where are they?" "Not now, Davies." "Not now?" The soldier's voice rose. "We sent thirty-two warriors with you! You come back with this outsider and half your face burnt off, and you tell me to wait?"

Everyone got silent as a man she saw that Matt followed behind, he climbed up on the makeshift stage and gave a speech. “Thank you, everyone for coming tonight for this occasion. As all know the evening will start with promoting ranks of soldiers who earned and were selfless and courageous in the battlefield. Soldiers who worked long and hard to earn the positions that are now to be given to them as in acknowledge and approval for all their hard work and actions they have done to protect us and our country and their brothers on the field.