Erectheus' breathing was hard and shallow, the anxiety he had felt before the battle now reaching a pinnacle as the distance between him and the Persian lines closed. Having been more towards the rear of the Athenian ranks, he had been forced to watch the battle unfold before him, straining to see over the heads of those taller than him. He continued to stand on his tiptoes, stumbling as those behind him pushed forward, eagerly heading for the inevitable bloodshed. It wasn't until the ranks of Athenians ahead began disappearing into the Persian lines, friends dispersing into foes as the organization began to collapse, that Erectheus had a clear line of sight into the vicious and bloodsoaked fray.

With the lines pressing in on the Persian mob from each side, the enemy was becoming more panicked, lashing out fiercely. A particularly aggressive Persian unit was carving a path straight towards Erectheus' position, causing the nausea in his stomach to intensify. Soon, there was a single line of men separating him from the horde, and he gripped his spear tightly, hefting it up over his shoulder, readying himself.

The man before him thrust his spear forward, attempting to drive it through the nearest Persian's abdomen. He was careless, however, and his attack was easily parried away. The counter was quick and deadly, a curved sword plunging deep into the Athenian's collar, lodging itself into the bone. The man began to buckle, and Eretheus came to his senses. He had been watching, an observer... Now the battle was right here in front of him. This was it.

The adrenaline suddenly surged through him, and he drove his spear forward, forcing it through the neck of the Persian who was attempting to remove his sword from the other Athenian's collar. Erectheus pushed forward, pushing the Persian to the ground before sending his shield across his body, striking a passing enemy with its edge, causing the head to burst open as the man crumpled. Erectheus then immediately returned his attention to his spear, whose handle was jutting out of the jugular of the fallen Persian from seconds before. He placed a hand on it and pulled, only to fall backwards as he pulled back a broken piece of wood.

A larger man now stood before him, his blade having just broken the spear, nearly taking off Eretheus' hand as well. He rushed to his feet, the Persian charging forward, attempting to take advantage of his disarmed opponent. He swung his sword horizontally, slashing at Eretheus' chest. Erectheus jumped back once, twice, and on the third attempt ducked underneath and charged, taking the Persian by surprise as he struck him in the genitals.

The Persian grunted loudly, trying to keep himself standing as his knees buckled. Erectheus grabbed him by the backs of his thighs, screaming loudly as he drove his shoulder forward into the man's stomach while pulling back on his legs, lifting him up slightly and slamming him down into the ground forcefully. The wind left the Persian's lungs and Erectheus lunged forward, one hand grabbing for the blade while the other reached for his enemy's face, his fingers curling and digging in. The man screamed in agony as Erectheus' middle and forefinger pushed into the eyesockets, blinding him.

With blood now gushing out the wound, Erectheus put all his attention on the man's weapon, removing his hand from the face and reached over to attempt to wrench the sword out of the man's grip, but the Persian refused to let go. He maintained an iron grip on the hilt while his other hand flailed wildly, striking Erectheus in the face repeatedly. Growing frustrated, Erectheus brought his knee down on the man's wrist, keeping his sword arm pinned, freeing his right hand to grab the other flailing limb, and allowing him to use his shielded left arm to finish the Persian off.

Yelling fiercely, Erectheus raised his left arm up and brought the flat side of the shield down upon the man's face. A loud crack sounded as the nose snapped in two, now turned at a grotesque angle towards his cheek. With the Persian crying out, Erectheus raised his shield and brought it down upon the his skull again and again, until the cries were reduced to whimpers as the Persian succumbed to the fatal blows.

Exhausted, Erectheus stared at the man for a moment, never having seen such gore so close before. The area around the eyes was bruised, streams of red pouring out of the holes where his eyes were once housed. His nose was no longer perpendicular to his face, but now bent and twisted, the tip just touching his crushed cheek bone. Blood was dripping from his ears as well, absorbing into the earth, staining the ground with crimson.

He was brought to his senses within seconds as the pounding footsteps of Athenians running past caught his attention. The lines were pushing forward again, compacting the Persian forces. Wiping the blood from his dried, parched lips, Erectheus snatched the sword from the Persian's now loose grip, and forced himself to his feet, rushing forward to assist.