Loud cracks of gunfire and the growling of grimm permeated the small village. What buildings were left were low, squat shacks made of flimsy wood planks. The short stone walls that surrounded the town had long been over run on one side, the other three were wavering. The men were tired. They wouldn't last long.

Ammo was starting to get scarce. They had been fighting for more than a day already. This was the largest Grimm incursion anyone alive had ever seen. This was the last defence before they got to the capital of the North. This was the final chance to stop them before everyone they knew and loved would be wiped out. This was true for all but one young man from Vale.

Private Ying Xiao Long stood with a few other men, fighting to his last. And it wasn't enough. They were losing ground, and fast. No matter what any of the men did, the amount of Grimm that were against them was just too vast. He took a second to look at the field beyond, where golden wheat had been grown, ready for harvest just a couple days ago. And families had lived and made a living for generations. It was now a sea of black and white as Grimm flooded in.

But Ying's attention was brought back as a claw almost killed him, had it not been for the man next to him blocking it. Ying brought his rifle to bear, fired a shot that killed the Grimm, and looked to the man to nod his thanks. However, he was just in time to watch the man get stabbed through the gut by a small Death Stalker stinger. The man just stared straight ahead, mouth open, eyes glazing over. Blood started pouring out of his mouth, and he fell backwards, dead.

Ying just stared for a second at the dead man. The man that had protected him, and Ying was unable to return the favor. It sickened him. His own incompetence had lead to someone being dead for no real reason.

It hurt.

He failed.

And someone had payed with their life.

Ying's vision blurred, and he collapsed.

His heart was beating a mile a minute. His breathing was shallow, and his eyes were wide. He was having a massive panic attack. The others around him quickly picked him up and hauled him back behind the lines. And he passed out.

When he woke back up, it was by water being poured on his face. He coughed as some water went down into his lungs, and sat up quickly. He was in a muddy trench surrounded by rear guard troops and other wounded men.

"He's up!" yelled one of the rear guard. A tall, well built man approached from nearby somewhere Ying couldn't see from where he was laying. The man approached. He was wearing the uniform of a corporal, and looked every bit like one. His face was marred with scars from countless battles. He was tall. Well over six foot and standing at a fully practiced attention, making him intimidating to the currently hunched over, short, green Ying.

"I've been ordered to take you to your new position on the defence at one." said the man in a baritone voice fitting his physique.

"Just tell me where and I'll go there myself." said a Ying harshly, visibly upset at his circumstances. More so because they were self orchestrated.

"The A line outside the secondary walls. You've been placed in command of a group of fifty militia from the surrounding villages." said the Corporal, not phased in the least by Ying's response.

Ying just sighed and turned around, walking to his death.