After the weapons, came the armor. After the armor came stronger weapons to overcome it. Stronger weapons required more vicious warriors. More vicious warriors gave rise to more desperate defenders. Perhaps the details had not been exactly correct, but none of that mattered.
From its throne, Death looked gigantically down. Its soldiers took up arms and armors and killed without pause to rest or eat or mourn their own fallen. Instead of sword and shield they carried electric rifles and used mechanically powered suits. They did not tear open the walls of cottages and pull the inhabitants screaming out; they formed lines at door frames, threw in a grenade that shone like the sun, and rushed in to slaughter their blinded foes.
The humans had resisted. Escalation had been necessary. All knew what was to come next, though none relished it. But for a moment, at least, Death allowed itself some small measure of satisfaction.
Annnnnd, that’s less than 800 words! Be sure to come back tomorrow for something wholly unexpected!