The battlefield was an endless nightmare.
Three days.
Four nights.
Seven frontal assaults.
And Albaterra still stood.
The double walls had withstood the impact of siege engines, magical attacks, and waves of Imperial soldiers. Carter's magic circles had turned every approach into a trap.
The Kingdom's mages cast spells from the towers.
The archers fired until their fingers bled.
And on the right flank, the Douglases continued to hold the line.
They had not given up a single meter.
But they had not come out unscathed either.
Corpses piled up before the walls.
Imperials.
Royal soldiers.
No one had the time to tell them apart anymore.
On a hill far beyond the reach of the archers, an Imperial pavilion remained untouched.
Inside, there was a table.
Two cups of tea.
The Emperor and Naira watched the battlefield.
Naira held her cup between both hands.
She had been watching the same thing for hours.
Soldiers advancing.
Soldiers falling.
New units taking their positions.
And advancing again.
Her gaze eventually settled on the right flank.
"The Douglases aren't retreating."
The Emperor followed her gaze.
Laurence was still fighting.
Even from that distance, his position could be distinguished among the ranks.
"He won't."
Naira frowned slightly.
"How can you be so sure?"
The Emperor took another sip of tea.
"Because he's been fighting for too long to retreat now."
Naira looked back at the battlefield.
Laurence had just taken down an Imperial soldier.
Another immediately took his place.
Then another.
"He's exhausted."
"Yes."
"His men are too."
"Yes."
Naira set the cup down on the table.
"Then we can send the generals."
The Emperor shook his head.
"No."
Naira looked at him.
"No?"
The Emperor set his cup down.
Then he stood.
"We don't need generals anymore."
It took Naira a moment to understand.
"Father..."
He lowered his gaze toward the battlefield.
"I want Laurence Douglas."
Naira froze.
"Are you going to capture him?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"I'm going to kill him."
The Emperor stepped out of the pavilion.
The Crimson Guard silently moved aside.
There was no announcement.
No trumpets.
There was no need.
His presence began spreading through the camp, and little by little, the officers understood what was happening.
The Emperor was advancing toward the front.
Naira watched him for several seconds.
Then she turned her gaze back toward Albaterra.
For the first time since the beginning of the siege, she felt that something was about to change.
The walls of Albaterra glowed beneath the reddish light of sunset.
The runes inscribed by Carter activated one after another as another Imperial formation reached the perimeter.
"Now!"
The magic circles lit up.
The ground warped.
Dozens of soldiers were caught in the spell.
Some were thrown into the air.
Others were immobilized beneath fields of pressure.
Those who managed to break through the first defenses found a second line of magic waiting for them.
But the Imperial legions continued advancing.
It did not matter how many fell.
There were always more behind them.
Naira watched from the rear.
"The Crimson Vanguard."
An officer stepped forward.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Send them forward."
"Understood."
The elite units began moving.
Behind them came the Alabaster Tigers.
Then the Blood Sorcerers.
The battlefield changed.
The ordinary Imperial soldiers began clearing a path.
The elite units needed no orders to know what to do.
They advanced directly toward the points where resistance was strongest.
And one of those points was on the right flank.
Laurence Douglas had been fighting for hours.
His sword was covered in blood.
His armor was marked with several cuts, and one of them had pierced the protection around his shoulder.
He didn't seem to care.
An Imperial soldier appeared before him.
Laurence cut him down.
Another took his place.
He fell as well.
A third raised his weapon.
The black sword moved first.
The man dropped to his knees.
Laurence took a deep breath.
Around him, the Douglases continued fighting.
"Hold the line!"
His voice cut through the noise.
"Don't give them an inch!"
The soldiers answered.
Laurence raised his sword again.
Then something changed.
It wasn't a sound.
It wasn't an order.
It was a feeling.
One of the Douglas knights stopped moving.
He looked toward the Imperial ranks.
"What...?"
Laurence turned his head.
The Imperial soldiers were retreating.
Not out of fear.
They were opening a path.
A perfect line began to form between the two armies.
The legionnaires stepped aside.
The officers remained silent.
Even the elite units had halted their advance.
Laurence narrowed his eyes.
"What are they doing?"
No one answered.
Then he saw him.
A figure was walking through the Imperial ranks.
Without hurry.
The Crimson Guard walked behind him.
The man wore no heavy armor.
He didn't need it.
With every step, the pressure across the battlefield increased.
The soldiers surrounding Laurence began to retreat.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Laurence did not move.
His hand tightened around the hilt.
The man stopped a short distance away.
For the first time, Laurence could see him clearly.
The Emperor.
No introduction was necessary.
Laurence recognized him immediately.
Now he understood why the entire Imperial army had opened the path.
The Emperor raised his gaze.
His eyes met Laurence's.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
"Duke Douglas."
Laurence raised his sword slightly.
"Emperor."
The battlefield fell silent.
Not because the armies had been ordered to stop.
But because everyone understood the same thing.
The Emperor had come personally.
And he had not come to command the siege.
He had come for Laurence.
The Emperor walked among the corpses until he stopped before him.
Laurence spat out the blood in his mouth.
"Surrender."
The Emperor's voice was calm.
"Swear loyalty to the Empire. Swear loyalty to me, and you and your duchy will live."
Laurence held his gaze.
"A Douglas does not swear loyalty to a man."
He raised his sword slightly.
"We swear loyalty to the Kingdom and the Duchy. To no one else."
The Emperor sighed.
His gaze briefly passed over the black sword.
"It's a shame."
He looked at him again.
"Warriors like you are rare."
He paused.
"But I'll have to settle for your son."
Laurence's expression changed.
A dark smile appeared on his face.
"You're going to be disappointed."
His sword slowly lowered until it pointed at the Emperor.
"You will never lay your hands on Lucian."
The Emperor did not answer.
Laurence didn't wait.
He disappeared.
The clash shook the battlefield.
Laurence's black sword struck against the mana barrier that appeared before the Emperor.
The shockwave sent dust, blood, and fragments of stone flying through the air.
The soldiers closest to them were forced to retreat.
Laurence attacked again.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten.
His sword sought the neck, chest, and joints.
Each strike was accompanied by shadows extending from the blade, attempting to surround the Emperor from different angles.
But the Emperor did not retreat.
A layer of mana covered his body.
The shadows collided against it and vanished.
Laurence immediately changed his strategy.
He attacked from below.
The Emperor blocked.
Laurence spun.
Another strike.
Another.
The Emperor deflected the sword with one hand.
Laurence took two steps back.
Then charged again.
For the first few minutes, the battle was almost impossible to follow.
The soldiers could only distinguish flashes of black and gold.
Laurence moved constantly.
The Emperor barely needed to move at all.
That was the difference.
Laurence had to find an opening.
The Emperor only had to wait.
One strike passed beside the Emperor's face.
Another struck his shoulder.
The fabric split.
A line of blood appeared across his skin.
The Douglas soldiers held their breath.
Laurence took advantage of the opening.
A shadow pierced through the ground.
The Emperor jumped.
The shadow struck where his leg had been.
Laurence attacked again.
This time, he managed to cut his side.
Blood.
Not much.
But enough.
The Emperor looked at the wound.
Then raised his eyes.
"Good."
Laurence was breathing heavily.
"Is that all?"
The Emperor did not answer.
He extended one hand.
The air trembled.
A mass of golden mana appeared before him.
Laurence crossed his arms to protect himself.
The impact sent him flying several meters.
He rolled across the ground and drove his sword into it to stop himself.
He stood immediately.
He could still fight.
He could still move.
But he had realized something.
He could not maintain that pace.
His body was beginning to feel heavy.
His breathing grew deeper.
The mana within his channels was diminishing.
The Emperor remained unchanged.
Laurence charged again.
He had no other choice.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The battlefield had become a circle of destruction surrounding the two of them.
Every time Laurence attacked, he had to do so with precision.
He could not waste mana.
He could not afford a single unnecessary movement.
One mistake could cost him his life.
The Emperor had no such problem.
His mana continued to flow.
It did not diminish.
It did not stop.
It was like trying to empty an ocean with your bare hands.
Laurence managed another cut.
Then another.
The Emperor took the blows.
But he continued advancing.
Without losing his rhythm.
Without showing any sign of exhaustion.
Laurence finally dropped to one knee.
He drove his sword into the ground.
He breathed heavily.
His chest burned.
His arms barely responded.
He searched for his mana.
There was little left.
Very little.
He raised his gaze.
The Emperor stood before him.
The blood from two cuts remained on his clothes.
That was all.
His breathing remained steady.
Laurence smiled.
"So this is the difference..."
The Emperor watched him.
"What difference?"
Laurence gritted his teeth and forced himself back to his feet.
"I have to finish the fight before I run out of mana."
The Emperor said nothing.
Laurence raised his sword.
"You don't."
The Emperor stared at him for several seconds.
"Now you understand."
Laurence attacked again.
This time, slower.
Heavier.
The Emperor blocked the blow.
Laurence tried to spin.
Too late.
The Emperor struck his abdomen.
Laurence was sent flying.
He crashed through a stone barrier and landed among the corpses.
He tried to get up.
His arms trembled.
The Emperor walked toward him.
"An Epsilon can surpass a Delta in technique."
Laurence raised his head.
"He can surprise him."
Another step.
"He can wound him."
Another.
"He can even force him to take the fight seriously."
The Emperor stopped before him.
"But he cannot sustain a battle against someone whose mana replenishes faster than his own is consumed."
Laurence spat blood.
"Then..."
He leaned against his sword.
"Why did you take so long?"
The Emperor watched him.
For the first time, a small smile appeared on his face.
"Because I wanted to know how far you could go."
Laurence raised his sword one last time.
The Emperor took a step.
Laurence barely had time to see him.
A flash of golden light crossed his field of vision.
A blow.
The sword pierced through his defense.
Then through his chest.
Laurence's body went rigid.
The Imperial sword had pierced straight through him.
Douglas blood fell onto the ground.
For several seconds, no one moved.
The Emperor slowly withdrew his sword.
Laurence remained standing.
He was still breathing.
Barely.
The Emperor looked at him.
"Impressive."
Laurence slowly raised his gaze.
There was blood on his lips.
But he was still smiling.
"Still..."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"You haven't won."
The Emperor frowned slightly.
Then Laurence closed his eyes.
And something moved beneath the shadow of his feet.