Restart:Untalented Man



Bain and the remaining survivors of the Ryntum-Naharog army continue trudging westward.

Their weary bodies and battered spirits weighed heavily upon them. Fatigue gnawed at their limbs, their muscles aching from days of relentless marching and fighting. Hunger pangs gnawed at their stomachs, a constant reminder of food scarcity on their arduous journey.

Regardless of their condition, they keep moving as a team, bound together by a common purpose- to reach Bideford, their capital.

The road stretched before them was usually full of merchants and hundreds of caravans moving between east and west. However, this path now has become desolated and rarely taken by merchants or travellers due to the looming shadow of war.

Furthermore, it was a road currently plagued by danger, where the highwaymen lurked in the shadows, ready to prey upon the vulnerable.

These ruthless opportunists were refugees who lost everything and make a living by plundering, seeking to recover what they had lost in a short amount of time. 

Bain and his comrades had not escaped unscathed from their encounters with the highwaymen.

In their pursuit of survival, they had clashed with these marauders. Thankfully, their well-honed skills as soldiers allowed them to defend themselves against the bandits' vicious assaults. 

However, their encounters with the highwaymen had left a mark on them, a lingering sense of trepidation and vigilance. Every rustling leaf, every shadowy figure in the distance set their hearts racing. And with their sense were push to the limit, tiredness built up in their mind.

As they take a step forward, they felt the subtle trembling of the ground beneath their feet, coupled with the distant rumbling of hooves. Hurriedly, they turn around. The dust scattered in the distance, swirling like an ominous harbinger, as the figures of mounted soldiers gradually emerged into view.

A hushed silence fell upon the group, their collective weariness momentarily forgotten, replaced by a creeping sense of unease.

The enemy approached with their disciplined formations and gleaming armour.

A stark contrast to the ragged and worn appearance of the Ryntum-Naharog soldiers.

Fear took root in the depths of their souls, slowly crawling up their spines like a chilling breeze.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Bain's response breaks the silence. After one enemy, comes another. This time waving a flag of Blande. He tried to gauge their strength, "Eight thousand...No, at least ten thousand. Perhaps even more. W-We can't win."

Bain Lawrance, his voice filled with urgency, commanded his weary soldiers to disperse and run. "We will meet at Bideford. Do your best to arrive there safely," he shouted, his words carrying the weight of their desperate situation.

The remnants of the Ryntum-Naharog soldiers scattered, their worn bodies pushing past the boundaries of exhaustion. However, General Braun isn't fond of the idea of letting them escape. He deftly manoeuvred his forces, encircling the disoriented and fatigued soldiers, effectively cutting off their path to freedom.

With their backs pressed against the unforgiving sea and their front lines facing the enemy, a sense of despair gripped the hearts of the Ryntum-Naharog soldiers. They found themselves trapped. The crashing waves mirrored the tumultuous emotions that surged within them, their survival now hanging by a thread. 

General Braun, mounted on his horse, cast a disdainful gaze upon the beleaguered Ryntum soldiers. "Well, well, well. Isn't this a mighty Ryntum troop?" he sneered, his voice laced with deep-seated animosity.

Not too long ago, a woman, clad in the attire of a Blackout agent, approached him, delivering the news of the defeat inflicted upon Blande in the north at the hands of the Ryntum army.

The mention of this defeat, which had led to General Braun's perilous situation in Napuna, ignited a flicker of anger within him. The memory of the losses suffered by his fellow soldiers fueled his determination to seek retribution, even if he couldn't directly confront those responsible.

"Your fellow soldiers in the north have caused quite a fair share of trouble for Blande," General Braun remarked with a vindictive smirk. "Although I can't take revenge on them directly, I will certainly make do with you all."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, fueling the tension that already permeated the desperate standoff.

Bain Lawrance stood at the forefront, gripping his rifle tightly. He shared a determined look with his comrades, a silent understanding passing between them.

If they are going down, they will go down fighting.

They raised their weapons, the metallic glint of rifles and swords reflecting the fading light of the day.

The tension in the air thickened as General Braun prepared to give the order to attack, his gaze fixed on the enemy troops before him.

However, his attention was suddenly diverted by a movement on the horizon, catching his eye and freezing him in his tracks.

From the distant seas, silhouettes emerged, slowly taking shape against the backdrop of the setting sun. The rhythmic sound of creaking timbers and the billowing of red sails filled the air as the imposing warships of the Ryntum First Fleet came into view.

These vessels, tasked with patrolling the gulf, now loomed on the scene like giants awakened from their slumber.

The ships came to a halt at an appropriate distance.

Their presence cast an ominous shadow over the unfolding confrontation on the shore. Crew members scurried across the decks as they readied the cannons that lined the sides of the warships.

The guns were aimed towards the shore. Their muzzles were pointed directly at the shore.

The metallic gleam of the cannons hinted at the devastating firepower they possessed, a clear warning to any who dared to challenge the might of the Ryntum fleet.

A moment of uncertainty enveloped the battlefield as both sides took in the unexpected turn of events.

The soldiers of Ryntum-Naharog, their backs against the sea, watched with a mix of anticipation and hope. The arrival of the first fleet was just in time, giving them a glimmer of salvation, a potential turning point in the desperate struggle they had found themselves in.