Bob The Dragon Layer

The Song of Victory

The battlefield slowly quieted as the soldiers of the Soul Sword Empire gathered around the remains of the wall. The gleaming red armor of the Gleaming Scythe soldiers was strewn across the field, and the once-imposing presence of Horael had been reduced to nothing more than a memory. The air was thick with the smell of blood and sweat, but in the hearts of the victors, there was a renewed sense of hope.

Tarran, ever the disciplined general, wiped the blood from his blade as he surveyed the field. He had fought hard, and though his expression remained stoic, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. Bob had performed better than he had expected, and though the battle had been intense, they had won.

Anyala, standing by Bob's side, casually pulled a bottle of wine from thin air, her mischievous smile returning as she raised it to her lips. The liquid inside shimmered with a faint, divine glow—a sign that it wasn't just any ordinary drink. She took a sip, savoring the taste before handing the bottle to Bob.

"Here," she said, her voice light. "You've earned it."

Bob hesitated, staring at the bottle. "What is this?"

Anyala's smile widened. "Just a little something special. Divine wine. It's the best you'll ever taste."

Bob, exhausted from the battle, took the bottle and drank deeply. The moment the wine touched his lips, he felt a wave of warmth and energy flood through his body. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before—rich, smooth, and utterly refreshing. For the first time since the fight had begun, he felt truly alive again.

Tarran, noticing the bottle, raised an eyebrow. "Divine wine? Where did you even get that?"

Anyala shrugged, her silver eyes gleaming with amusement. "I have my ways."

As the soldiers began to gather around them, Anyala's mischievous side emerged once again. She glanced at the tired but victorious troops and grinned. "Alright, listen up!" she called, her voice carrying across the crowd.

The soldiers, still catching their breath from the battle, looked up, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

"We've won," Anyala said, her tone light but commanding. "But now it's time to celebrate properly. And what better way to do that than with a song?"

The soldiers exchanged glances, unsure of what she was planning, but they were too tired—and too intrigued—to argue.

Anyala, still holding the bottle of divine wine, raised it high and began to chant in a sing-song voice:

"Life and death can piss their pants.
We are living to kiss our grams.
Praise Bob, the hero who came from zero.
Follow him to see tomorrow.
Fuck old death, she can eat her sorrow!"

The soldiers, caught off guard by the crude but hilarious chant, burst into laughter. They hadn't expected such a bold, irreverent cheer, but it was exactly what they needed to break the tension and lighten the mood.

Bob's face turned bright red as the soldiers began to chant along, their voices growing louder with each line:

"Life and death can piss their pants!
We are living to kiss our grams!
Praise Bob, the hero who came from zero!
Follow him to see tomorrow!
Fuck old death, she can eat her sorrow!"

Even Tarran, ever the serious one, couldn't help but crack a smile as the chant echoed across the battlefield. He shook his head in disbelief, but the humor wasn't lost on him.

Anyala, clearly enjoying the chaos she had created, handed the bottle of wine to a nearby soldier. "Pass it around. Everyone deserves a drink after today."

The soldiers, still laughing and chanting, eagerly took the bottle and passed it from one to another, each taking a long sip of the divine wine. The warmth and joy spread quickly, lifting the spirits of the weary men and women who had fought so hard to defend the wall.

Bob, despite his embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh along with them. Anyala's antics had a way of cutting through the tension, and though the day had been filled with blood and battle, the victory tasted all the sweeter with her by his side.

As the soldiers continued to sing and drink, Anyala glanced over at Bob, her silver eyes twinkling with amusement. "You handled yourself well today," she said softly, her tone sincere.

Bob smiled, still feeling the warmth of the divine wine coursing through him. "Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you."

Anyala waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you did most of the work. I just helped a little."

Tarran, who had been listening, gave Bob a nod of approval. "You've earned your place among the soldiers today. They respect you."

Bob looked around at the men and women cheering his name, and for the first time, he truly felt like part of something bigger. He had come from nothing, but now, standing among the victors of the battle, he realized that he was no longer just an outsider. He was one of them.

Anyala, always the instigator, raised her hands again, silencing the soldiers for a moment. "One more time! Let's make it loud enough for the gods to hear!"

The soldiers erupted into cheers, their voices ringing out in unison:

"Life and death can piss their pants!
We are living to kiss our grams!
Praise Bob, the hero who came from zero!
Follow him to see tomorrow!
Fuck old death, she can eat her sorrow!"

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the battlefield, the soldiers of the Soul Sword Empire laughed, sang, and celebrated their hard-earned victory. Bob, Anyala, and Tarran stood at the center of it all, their bond strengthened by the trials they had faced together.

And though the war was far from over, in that moment, they were more than just soldiers—they were friends, united by battle, victory, and the strange, wonderful joy of life.