Restart:Untalented Man



As the chaos unfolded, the tent flap rustled, and two figures stepped out, their authoritative presence cutting through the pandemonium.

"What in the world is happening out here?" demanded a stern voice, laced with authority. It was General Braun, the leader of the Blande forces.

"I can't see a damn thing! The lights went out, and the men are in a state of panic!" replied another officer, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Get the torches lit! We need to assess the situation immediately," ordered General Braun, his tone commanding and composed.

"There he is!" Alaric exclaimed, his eyes narrowing in on General Braun, who just exited his camp, unaware of the impending danger. The chaos around them provided the perfect cover for their clandestine operation.

Alaric's hand trembled slightly as he notched the arrow, its tip coated with a deadly poison.

With steady focus, he took aim, his trained eyes locking onto his target. He could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of this single shot that could change the course of the battle.

Beside him, his subordinates mirrored his actions. Their own arrows poised to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting officers.

The tension in the air was palpable as they awaited the signal. At the same time, their hearts pounding with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

Alaric turned to his fellow sharpshooters, his eyes conveying the silent command.

In unison, they drew back their bows, their muscles tensing as they prepared to release their deadly projectiles.

Time seemed to slow as they held their breath, the noise of the panicked soldiers fading into the background.

Suddenly, Alaric's hand jerked forward, releasing the arrow into the night.

The others followed suit. A flurry of lethal projectiles streaking through the darkness towards their intended targets.

Swoosh—

The arrows, propelled by skill, sailed silently through the air. Each one found its mark with uncanny precision, striking true and delivering its deadly payload.

The faint sound of impact was drowned out by the chaos of the camp, the soldiers' panic acting as a shield for their covert assault.

Ack!—

The deadly arrow found its mark. A small, startled cry escaped from General Braun's lips. His hand instinctively rose to his neck, where the shaft protruded. Its deadly tip buried deep within his flesh. Blood begin to seep from the wound, staining his clothes with a dark, ominous hue.

Staggering backwards, he struggled to maintain his balance. The authoritative presence he had shown before was nowhere to be seen.

A look of disbelief crossed General Braun's face as the full realization of his mortal wound settled upon him. His eyes widened, frantically searching for answers that could not be found. 

With each passing moment, his movements grew more erratic, his steps faltering as his strength waned.

In a final, desperate attempt to cling to life, General Braun's hand reached out to grasp a nearby soldier for support. But his grip slipped, his fingers unable to find purchase, and he tumbled to the ground with a thud that echoed through the chaos of the camp.

Thud—

The haunting sound reverberated through the air, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

Startled soldiers turned their attention towards the source. Their senses heightened by the sudden silence that followed. 

"I think I heard something drop near the general's tent!" shouted a soldier, his voice filled with urgency. "Someone! Hurry up and bring the light over here!"

The words sparked a collective realization, and a ripple of movement swept through the camp. Soldiers no longer panicked and rushed to retrieve a source of light.

Their hands trembling with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

Torches were ignited, casting a flickering glow upon the scene, revealing the grim truth that awaited them.

As the light spread, gasps of shock and disbelief erupted from the soldiers. Their eyes widened, mouths agape, as they beheld the lifeless body of General Braun lying on the ground with blood flowing out profusely.

The top officers, those who had stood at the pinnacle of their ranks, lay motionless nearby.

Their faces were frozen in expressions of surprise and horror while their skin starts to turn purple.

The soldiers stood transfixed, their minds struggling to comprehend the sight before them.

The loss of their respected leader and the top brass struck them like a thunderbolt.

"He's... he's dead," stammered a soldier, his voice barely a whisper. "General Braun... and the others... they're all gone."

"The enemy! The enemy must be hiding somewhere!" shouted a soldier, his voice filled with panic and alarm.

The soldiers frantically scanned their surroundings, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of the elusive assailants.

Every tree, every bush, every rustle of leaves became a potential hiding place for the unseen enemy. Their hands gripped their weapons tightly, knuckles turning white, ready to defend themselves against any potential threat.

As Alaric and his team remained hidden, their eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and deadly focus. They observed with full attention, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. With every arrow released from their bows, a life was extinguished, and chaos deepened within the camp.

Swoosh—

"Arrghh! Someone got shot. Find them! Find them!" cried out a distressed soldier, his voice carrying a blend of anguish and determination.

The air buzzed with tension as the soldiers intensified their search, desperation fueling their movements.

"I heard the rustle over there!" shouted another soldier, pointing towards a cluster of trees. They converged on the location, their weapons drawn and eyes darting, determined to flush out the hidden assailants.

Meanwhile, Alaric and his subordinates seamlessly navigated through the darkness, swiftly shifting their positions within the vicinity of the camp.

They became shadows in the night, striking with lethal precision before vanishing into the darkness once more. Their actions were a symphony of chaos, orchestrated to unsettle, demoralize, and weaken the resolve of their adversaries.

Swoosh—

Another arrow found its mark, claiming yet another life, further deepening the confusion and despair among the Blande soldiers.

The relentless barrage from multiple directions kept them on their toes, unable to find respite or unity in their search for the elusive attackers.

With each successful attack, fear mingled with uncertainty, sowing seeds of doubt and eroding the soldiers' morale. The once-coordinated search descended into a fragmented frenzy, as panic and paranoia infected their ranks.

The invisible assailants were like ghosts, haunting the camp, striking fear into the hearts of the Blande soldiers.