I have rlly low self-confidence in myself while I'm rereading this and so that I don't throw myself in the same loop as the last fight scene, I'm gonna post this fight scene here

so if you find something that I can improve upon and make more gripping and satisfying and not cringey, feel free to comment to your heart's intent cause I'm running in circles and want other people's thoughts and opinions

also I just copied and paste from google, so not all the italics may not show up, it looks fine to me but if you find no italics whatsoever or if something doesn't make sense cause it's not italicized, hit me up and I'll try to fix it

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 Gilbert stood at the outskirts of the woodland. The regiment had marched since dawn, and now the moon is slowly lifting off the ground. Gilbert felt his legs growing stiff. Trusran commanded them to surround the village and be ready to attack on his command. What that command is, Gilbert didn't know, but he was sure he'll figure it out. He squinted at the village. He noticed a dim reflection of candlelight on the armor of knights on guard. It was common for even small villages to be put on guard during wars like these. Gilbert hoped the innocents who lived there good health; it was not their fault their kingdom was facing war.

He moved his legs so they wouldn't sleep when he needed them. Gilbert glanced over at the soldiers next to him. One looked ready while the other looked terrified. He locked eyes with him and gave a comforting nod. The soldier returned it, but he still trembled. Gilbert sighed and turned his gaze back to the village. He felt his blood begin to rush, as it usually does before battle. He cursed his father; he was the one who made him like this: he taught him to feel pleasure from the thought of bloodshed. Gilbert shook his head, making his helmet shake. He reached up to steady it.

Somebody howled. Silence hung for mere heartbeats. Then, all hell broke loose.

Knights charged forward. Gilbert followed along. He wielded his sword as he approached the village. He heard a bell ring.

Everyone knew they were here.

Gilbert locked his eyes on a soldier coming at him. Their blades met. Gilbert's opponent tried to jab at him; he used that force to avert the blow. He thrusted his sword towards the opponent's face. Shit- Pain shot through Gilbert as he received a kick to the crotch. He glared at the enemy. His blood pumped. Air carried his weight. New found strength flowed through him.

He was fighting for his kingdom.

Gilbert jabbed his sword at their face; the blow was averted. Their sword clashed against his helmet. He shook his head to clear dizziness and plunged his sword at their face, framed with metal. They froze. Scarlet fluids dripped down the sword. The opponent grew limp. The image disgusted him. What a waste...

Gilbert flashed his eyes towards the center of town. Buildings were lit on fire. Carts of merchants were flipped over. Corpses littered the ground. The foul stench of death hung in the air.

The lives of people took place here. Settings of countless stories happened here. Couples were found and lost here. Children grew up here.

Now, devastation reigned here.

Gilbert charged at an ally in need. He drew his sword against the opponent's shoulder. They whipped around and clashed their sword against his. The blades scraped together. The opponent jerked back his sword. Gilbert lost his balance. He stumbled. The opponent drew his sword back for another blow. The ally took the opportunity to slash at their unarmored armpit. They cried in agony.

Taking the chance, Gilbert regained his balance and kicked the enemy down. The two of them fled elsewhere, leaving the injured opponent behind. Gilbert felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head; it was a fellow ally. The ally had their eyes on the soldier he had just injured. A sudden realization hit Gilbert; he followed the ally back to the enemy.

The ally clashed his sword against the enemy's helmet. Gilbert looked at the bleeding corpse. They had to act fast. He pulled the foe up, pulled their arms behind their back and banded them together. His ally heaved the enemy onto their shoulder.

Gilbert whipped around as the ally ran off. Fellow soldiers streamed past to the edge of the village. They were silent: drastically different from the howling knights they were when they initially attacked. He scanned the village. Soldiers seemed to seep away into the woods. By instinct, Gilbert followed.

Another end to unnecessary violence...