Obligatory Disclaimer:
- I do not own Dynasty Warriors, or Koei. There's always wishful thinking though.
Happy reading.
The pillars of Shu are gone. In their place are less splendid men like myself, but even so, I must stand and fight.
Victory will be ours. It must be.
The soldiers of Shu shall crush the enemies today with the Eight Trigrams just as my father crushed them before. We, the soldiers of Shu, stand firm together, our lion-faced shields gleaming beneath the scorching sun, ready to devour our foes.
A cloud of dust flies up in the distance as Wei's forces arrive and the battle begins when their thundering vanguard enters the fray.
Son of the formidable General Deng Ai, Deng Zhong picks a path through the formation and enters the Gate of Fire. To the far left, Major Shi Juan lets loose a fierce yell and rushes through the Gate of Earth. Their men follow them without hesitation just as horses follow their masters with absolute trust.
They have all chosen death.
The gates close behind them, and as in the past, the maze works with lethal precision. With spears in hand, the forces of Shu descend upon Wei's cavalry like hungry tigers upon helpless deer; the enemy is cut to pieces. Such is the will of heaven.
Deng Zhong and Shi Juan flee for their lives. By some miracle born of fear, their horses sprint out of an open path. It closes shut behind them only a moment too late.
The battlefield is still once more. Wei's flanks are lost; only the central force remains. I am ready to pursue, should they retreat.
Yet their forces regroup and make another attempt at an attack. In reply, we open the eight gates; they enter again, throwing themselves into the jaws of death.
But they do not die.
For a leader to attribute a defeat to misfortune is of utmost foolishness, but as soon as I see the gate of Wind collapse, I become a superstitious man. Perhaps the spirits were displeased with my offerings. Had I misread the stars or crossed some cursed stream?
Of the eight paths, seven lead to certain death while one serves as an escape route. My father has explained the rationale for this path countless times. The Art of War says: do not press a desperate foe too hard. Yet the way I see it has changed; this path has been left open for heaven's will to change the tides of war.
Today, I have lost because Han must fall.
A thousand hooves fall hard upon the ground, crushing the bodies beneath them as they charge ahead with merciless haste. The enemy has managed to break through the impenetrable, to win where it has been deemed impossible.
Heedless of the heroes or fools that we are, fate is cruel.
My son Shang stands firm by my side, hacking away at the soldiers who have broken through. He smiles as he swings his sword left and right, his face marred by a cut on the cheek. Is it peaceful resignation that moves him, or tranquil rage? My heart swells with bitterness as I watch on.
Only nineteen and already he is fated to die. I want to tell him to run away.
But the burdens of loyalty render me mute. And had I said those dishonorable words, my proud son would have played deaf, chained by the same weight.
So the only words that pass my lips are orders for death - death to the enemy and death to ourselves - when in truth all we wanted was peace.
In this life, only the dead know peace.
Author's Notes:
- For those who aren't familiar with Zhuge Zhan (highly unlikely, if you've bothered to read this fic) he's Zhuge Liang's son. He served as a general in Shu's later years and is famous for his last stand against Wei.
- This is all a largely subjective interpretation of Zhuge Zhan's last stand. I have no idea how the actual Eight Trigrams formation works, but I've taken the liberty of using the movie Red Cliff's rendition.