Steel met steel with a screech that split the night.
Lyra's daggers sparked as she parried the Sovereign captain's greatsword. The sheer weight of his strikes forced her back, heels grinding across the blood-slick stones. Her arms ached, her breath came sharp, yet her grin never wavered.
"Is that all you've got?" she hissed, twisting aside just as his blade tore through a pillar of stone. The force of the strike sent rubble exploding outward, dust choking the air.
The captain's helm tilted, eyes burning with fury beneath the iron. "You mock me, wench? You'll die screaming!" He lunged again, swinging wide.
Lyra ducked low, slid past him, and her daggers kissed the seam of his armor. Sparks flew, blood welled—but he spun faster than she expected, his gauntlet slamming into her ribs.
She cried out, stumbling. The world blurred, but she spat blood and laughed. "Hit harder next time."
Across the square, Ronan was a mountain under siege. Three men hammered at his shield, spears biting, swords battering, and still he stood. His knees buckled, muscles straining, but his roar thundered back at them.
"You'll not pass me, dogs!" He swung his axe in a brutal arc, cleaving through two at once. The third soldier lunged in desperation, his blade piercing Ronan's shoulder.
The mercenary grunted, blood pouring, but instead of faltering he seized the man by the throat with his free hand. With a roar, he crushed down until bones snapped like twigs.
Yet his breath was ragged now. His shield arm trembled. He was slowing.
"Kael!" Serenya's voice was a breaking cry.
Kael turned—and his chest clenched. The barrier surrounding the villagers had split down the middle, glowing cracks spiderwebbing across it like fractured glass. Serenya's knees buckled, her hands shaking violently on the staff.
Arrows rained against the faltering dome, each impact ringing in her skull like a hammer. Blood trickled from her nose, her lips, her eyes. She could barely breathe.
Kael's rage surged. His crimson aura flared, sparking like wildfire. He cut through two men in a single arc, his voice thunder.
"Touch her, and your death will not end with your body."
But the Sovereign captain's mocking laugh rang out. "Look at your little mage… breaking already. She won't last another minute."
His words were bait, and Kael nearly lunged—but another wave of soldiers crashed in. Dozens, pressing, stabbing, screaming. The square was drowning in steel.
Kael's blade sang in wide arcs, his red lightning cracking the air. He fought like a storm given flesh, every strike leaving trails of burning crimson. Men screamed, bodies split, armor shattered.
And still they came.
His breath grew heavier. His aura strained, flickering. His wounds burned. But his eyes never wavered.
He looked at Serenya—bleeding, shaking. At Ronan—shield cracked, shoulder pierced. At Lyra—laughing through blood, locked against a captain twice her size.
And Kael raised his blade higher, crimson fire roaring along its edge. His voice carried through the chaos, low and unyielding:
"Stand with me. Break or bleed—but do not fall."
For the first time, the Sovereign soldiers hesitated. The villagers, huddled behind Serenya's failing barrier, clutched one another as hope flickered through their fear.
The captain snarled, stepping forward, his greatsword raised high. "Kill him!"
The Sovereign line surged—
And the battle dragged deeper into hell.