Faul: The Reincarnation

Chapter 2: Breaching Line Of Defense

The sight of the battlefield hit Frederick like a lightning strike. His knees nearly buckled. His hands trembled, but he didn’t drop his blade. Instead, his grip tightened around the hilt, his knuckles whitening as the weight of the scene crashed down on him like a tidal wave.

Thirty years.

Three long decades of bloodshed, strategy, sacrifice… and hope. He had stood on a hundred battlefields, watched friends die, raised walls and burned bridges. All to delay what now stared him in the face.

Their defenses were falling. Hope was flickering.

“I’ve failed,” he whispered to himself, eyes glassy and unfocused. “All these years... I thought I was buying us time. I thought I could stop it.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and mounted his horse. The beast reared, sensing his urgency, and galloped through the war-torn streets of Karaza.

He burst through the gates of his home like a storm.

Maria was already at the door, drawn by the thunder of hooves and the fear clawing at her chest. Her voice trembled as she rushed forward. “Frederick, what is it? What happened?”

“They’ve breached the second line,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “It won’t be long now.”

Her breath caught. Her hand covered her mouth, but the tears broke through. “No… Frederick, no…”

He turned to her, eyes haunted with sorrow and a desperate sense of duty. “Take Faul. Take everyone in the household. Leave Karaza. Go as far as you can. Don’t look back.”

Maria gripped his arm tightly. “You cannot mean that. Frederick, please… come with us. We need you. Faul needs you.”

His gaze fell to the small boy in her arms. Faul’s big, curious eyes stared back up at him. The child didn’t speak, but his silent confusion cut deeper than any wound. There was something ancient and unsettling in his gaze, as if the boy knew.

Inside Faul’s mind, something stirred.

Why is he crying? Why do I feel like something terrible is happening?

He wanted to ask. To speak. But all he could do was let out a soft, helpless cry.

“I have to stay,” Frederick said, firm despite the tremble in his voice. “I am the General of Karaza. If this is the end… then I must be there to meet it.”

Maria shook her head, tears cascading down her cheeks. “Then I will stay with you.”

“No,” he said, gently placing a hand on her face. “You must live. You must protect our son. That is my final command to you… not as a general, but as your husband.”

He leaned forward and kissed Faul’s forehead, holding the boy’s tiny hand in his calloused fingers.

Then he turned sharply and disappeared into his quarters.

When he returned, he carried a blade wrapped in crimson cloth. He unraveled it slowly.

“This was passed down to me by my father. And to him by his father. For five hundred years, it has stayed in our family.”

The blade shimmered in the dim candlelight, its hilt embedded with ancient dragon scales that gave off a faint, pulsing glow. The edge was flawless, humming with dormant power.

“My father told me this sword was forged during the last days of Gag’s uprising. They say it holds a power that only someone from our bloodline can awaken.”

He extended the sword to Maria.

“It may be Faul. I don’t know. But if Gag ever rises again… this sword may be our last hope.”

Maria took the blade in one hand and held Faul tightly with the other. “I will protect him,” she whispered. “With my life.”

Frederick pressed his forehead gently to hers. “Go now. And may the gods guide you.”

With her heart breaking and Faul’s soft cries echoing in her ears, Maria gathered the household and slipped away under cover of night, vanishing into the shadows of the crumbling city.

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The clang of metal echoed in the quiet as Frederick donned his armor. Each strap tightened like a vow. The plates were heavier than usual, or maybe it was just the weight in his chest.

He emerged from his quarters and ascended the stone steps of the city square, where his men waited. Ten thousand soldiers. Men he had trained. Bled with. Mourned with.

As he approached, they looked up — exhausted, but their backs straightened. Their general had come.

“Who owns this city?!” Frederick roared.

A thunderous reply shook the square: “WE OWN THIS CITY!!”

“For your homes! For your families! For Karaza!”

“Let’s fight for our home!!”

“Hooooooooooo!!”

The drums began. A deep, relentless thrum that reverberated through the earth. And then — the march.

The Red Death descended like a plague. They poured across the plains — grotesque, mutated, crimson-eyed. Once men. Now monsters. The infection had twisted them into something faster, stronger, and soulless.

Steel met flesh. Screams and roars filled the sky.

The battle lasted days.

Swords shattered. Shields cracked. The ground turned slick with blood.

Ten thousand dwindled to three thousand.

Frederick stood in the center of it all. His blade dripped with red. His armor dented and scorched. His body begged to fall.

But he stood.

“Hold the line!” he cried, voice ragged. “Do not let them pass!”

He dropped to one knee beside a young soldier — Elian, barely more than a boy. Dead. Eyes wide. Blood soaking his tunic.

“I’m sorry…” Frederick whispered.

A horn blew from the watchtower. The signal.

Retreat.

“Fall back!” Frederick shouted. “Retreat into the city! Lock the gate!”

The remaining soldiers dragged the wounded, staggering back toward the city. Frederick sprinted to his second-in-command.

“Alfred!” he called, seizing his shoulder.

Alfred turned, blood smeared across his face. “Yes, General?”

Frederick stared at him, eyes burning with purpose. “Find Maria and Faul. Protect them. No matter what happens here… they must survive. This is the last thing I ask of you — not as a general, but as your friend.”

Alfred’s face went pale. “You’re not coming back… are you?”

Frederick smiled faintly. “Go. Now.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned.

He faced the horde.

Raised his blade high.

The red dragon scales gleamed one last time in the sun.

“For KAAR!!!”

His cry tore through the city as he charged — one man against a sea of monsters.

Behind the walls, Alfred turned just in time to watch Frederick disappear into the chaos.

The blade danced, slicing through dozens. But the Red Death came like waves. Endless.

They swarmed.

And then — he was gone.

Alfred dropped to his knees, chest heaving with sobs. “Goodbye, brother,” he whispered. “I swear by all the gods… I will find them. I will protect them. Your bloodline will live on.”

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Far from Karaza, in the quiet shadow of a forest, Maria walked with slow, cautious steps. Faul was silent against her chest, his head resting near her heartbeat. The crimson-wrapped blade lay strapped across her back.

The boy’s eyes stared out at the trees. Unblinking. Aware.

Something stirred inside him again.

He could feel it in the wind — like a whisper in his blood.

Something ancient.

Something terrible.

Gag is returning…