The square was no longer a battlefield.
It was a slaughterhouse.
Smoke and crimson light painted everything in a hellish glow, and at its center stood Kael, sword in hand, aura raging like a wildfire unchained. The Sovereign soldiers circled him, but none dared to take the first step.
Kael's crimson eyes glared through them all, his blade humming as black lightning crawled its length. He raised it slowly, deliberately, the way a headsman lifts the axe before execution.
"Come," he growled.
One soldier finally broke, screaming as he charged, spear aimed at Kael's chest.
Kael moved.
"Crimson Rend!"
The sword swept sideways, the air itself tearing apart. The soldier vanished in a spray of ash and steel, his body cleaved clean through. The strike didn't stop—it ripped through three more men behind him, carving a black scar across the ground.
The others faltered, but Kael didn't give them time. He stepped forward, aura flaring.
"Lightning Fang!"
A thrust of his blade sent a bolt of jagged black lightning piercing into the crowd. Armor shattered, men convulsed, screams echoed as they collapsed, their weapons clattering uselessly beside them.
Kael's breath came hard, but his fury only grew sharper. Every strike was faster, heavier, his blade singing like the cry of vengeance itself.
The Sovereign captain, still struggling to stand after Kael's earlier blow, roared in defiance. "Hold the line! He cannot fight forever!"
Kael's gaze locked on him, and something inside the captain faltered. His men saw it—the flicker of fear in his eyes.
Kael pointed his blade toward him. The crimson aura surged, flooding the battlefield.
"You will die screaming."
He dashed.
The storm followed.
"Oblivion's Edge!"
Kael's sword came down in a brutal vertical slash. The captain barely blocked, sparks bursting as steel met steel—but Kael's strike didn't end. Black lightning exploded outward from the impact, vaporizing the men around them in a blinding storm of crimson bolts.
The captain staggered back, coughing blood, his arms nearly broken from the force.
Kael pressed forward, relentless, blade carving again and again. Each strike carried not just strength, but fury—every cut a roar, every swing a promise of death.
"Severing Tempest!"
His blade spun in a wide arc, a whirlwind of crimson lightning that shredded through a dozen men at once. Armor split like paper, bodies torn apart as the storm consumed them.
By the time the light faded, the square was drenched in silence once more—except for the crackle of Kael's aura, whispering like an executioner sharpening his blade.
The survivors fell back, trembling, their courage broken.
Kael stood tall, chest heaving, his crimson eyes fixed on the captain.
The storm was not done.