A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

Yet he leapt anyway. He leapt off his back foot with such force, that even as the Horned Goblins tried to gloat their almost certain victory, there was a hint of anxiousness in their movements, as they hurriedly tried to respond to the speed at which the attack had come.

Three points neared Beam's chest, as he lunged at them, his sword arm just behind him, and a monstrous scowl on his face.

"ARCHERS! LEFT FLANK! FIRE!" The officer ordered hurriedly – even the soldiers were thoroughly put off by Beam's reckless attack. Some even looked away. They'd seen men charge at the spear wall more than once – more often than not, it was their own spear wall that the enemy flung themselves on.

The outcome was never pretty. Even chain-mailed opponents would find themselves pierced. The sharp spear point would carve open a lung, or burst even a heart. They'd glance down at the weapon that had taken their life, blood would rise from their mouths, and they'd collapse at the feet of the spear wielder.

Few could bear to see a mere boy go through the same hardship.

Yet, as those spear points neared Beam's chest, even mid-air as he was, he remained composed. The sword was slack in his hand, with his arm behind him. When he finally tensed that sword arm, and put might into his swing, the strike came with such speed and force that it surprised even himself.

Rarely did Beam put his all into a single, and never before had he used a backhanded slash as a power strike. Such a thing seemed illogical. But he was in the monster's mind at the moment. The only thing that mattered was power, crushing the enemy in front of him.

Even without his legs beneath him to lend it power, the twisting of his body lent his blade such fearsome might that the air rushed around it. The spear points that neared him were severed cleanly, before they could even near his skin, and the enemy was forced back, in a thoroughly dominant display.

As Beam came to the ground, a Horned Goblin collapsed beneath him, taking the full brunt of his weight as Beam's feet stamped atop its ribcage, the soldiers let out an awed gasp.

They knew what it meant to overcome a spear wall, after all. They knew the might a soldier had to summon up to overwhelm such a positional advantage. But such was a necessary task on the battlefield. A task left for the heavy infantry, or for those insane enough to try it.

There was a name for those men – knights that refused to take leadership. Knights whose only purpose were these suicidal charges, to break up the enemy line, like water finding a crack in a rock so that it might tear down an entire cliff.

"Berserker…" one soldier murmured, seeing the similarities.

But Beam was no mere berserker. Berserkers were still men, after all. Beam was a pure monster. He used the madness of the monsters against them, hitting them with the same unyielding aggression that they hit their own enemies with.

In the heart of their formation, with their spear wall crumbled, Beam's sword went to work.

In a flash of steel, his sword met the goblin to the left of him. It tried to raise its arms up in defence – for the wooden shaft that remained of its spear was no good for such a close-quarters attack – but Beam's blade bit through arm and ran straight through its neck, killing it on the spot.

He treated these men on the floor with the same aggression and speed that he had put into his initial attack. He didn't hold anything back. Ordinarily, he would have considered it wasteful. A single heroic strike was all that was necessary – and then he would flow and pick apart the enemy from there, wasting minimal amounts of energy.

Yet that was not the philosophy of a monster. A monster only wanted carnage. Perhaps it was not the best style to be used continually, but Beam sought its development, for he could sense his strength. He needed it stronger so he could bind it with the rest of what he'd learned, so he could evolve his understanding, and come up with something new before hell broke loose.

Beam's sword dug into the shoulder of the Horned Goblin on the right of him before it could even react. The goblin beneath Beam's feet was barely holding on, even as its crushed ribs pierced its lung. He spared it a slash that carved across its face, using far more energy than he normally would have wasted on a downed opponent – but it made for a far more intimidating sight.

Arrows were flying through the air, heading their way towards the leftmost flank, just as the officer had ordered. Beam turned his attention to the right, and the Gorebeasts that were eyeing his back.

Three Horned-Goblins were already dead, and their ranks buckled as Beam crashed into them. The monsters moved to run, but they were far too slow. The next goblin on the right presented its back to Beam, as it made a mad scramble forward, nearly falling over in its attempts to run. Beam's sword cut deeply across its back, in a single and merciless slash.

Even as that strike fell, Beam was moving onto the next. He kicked the corpse out of the way with the irritated movements of an animal, and he stepped into range of that final enemy. It was only just in range of his sword.

With a single vicious swing, Beam hacked its leg off.

From the sounds in his ears, of arrows hitting soil, Beam was able to tell that the soldiers' attack had already landed. He finished off the goblin.

Two Horned-Goblins remained and two Gorebeasts, and a very angry Half-Titan that could hardly believe how easily its army had been ploughed through.

The Horned-Goblins that managed to escape on the left retreated back towards their archers, who were in front of the Half-Titan a short distance away, as though they'd earned its protection.