Then.
Impact.
The two forces collided with a deafening crash.
Steel slammed into steel. Horses crashed into men. The front lines shattered on contact, formation dissolving into chaos in an instant.
Shouting erupted from every direction.
Not orders anymore.
Screams.
Theron's sword moved the moment they hit.
The first enemy came at him with a raised spear, eyes wide, grip unsteady.
Too slow.
Theron cut across his neck in one clean motion.
The man dropped before he could even react.
No pause. No hesitation.
Another soldier rushed in from the side, swinging wildly. Theron turned, blade meeting his, deflecting the strike before driving his sword straight through the man's chest.
Everything was happening within arm's reach.
Around him, the battlefield had completely broken apart.
Knights rode through infantry, cutting down those in their path. Some were dragged from their horses. Others disappeared beneath the chaos, swallowed by the mass of bodies.
A horse nearby screamed, a sharp, horrible sound, as it collapsed, throwing its rider into the mud where he was immediately surrounded.
Shields cracked. Armor dented.
Men fell.
Some didn't get back up.
Cassian was still there, just ahead, cutting his way forward, his movements sharp and controlled.
"Left!" he shouted.
Theron reacted instantly, turning just in time to block a strike aimed at his side.
The force of it traveled up his arm, but he held firm, pushing back before slashing across the attacker's face.
Blood sprayed.
The man fell.
Theron moved again.
Step. Strike. Kill.
There was no space to think.
Only react.
Only survive.
And Leo
Leo was watching everything. Every movement.
Every death. Every sound.
This is real.
People weren't holding back.
They were trying to kill.
And they were succeeding.
He's killing them…
Theron's blade moved again, cutting down another soldier.
No hesitation. No emotion.
Just efficiency.
Leo felt it clearly now.
The difference. This wasn't anger.
It wasn't rage.
It was something colder.
A complete absence of doubt.
This isn't fighting… this is slaughter.
A man stumbled past them, clutching his side, blood pouring through his fingers. He didn't make it far before collapsing into the mud, unmoving.
Another scream cut through the noise, cut short almost immediately.
Everywhere Leo looked.
Death.
And it didn't stop. It didn't slow.
It just kept going.
Theron stepped forward again, his sword already moving toward the next enemy.
And Leo.
For the first time. Was truly afraid.
The battle raged without pause.
Steel, blood, mud, everything blurred together.
Then.
A shadow passed over the battlefield.
At first, no one understood it.
Then heads began to turn.
Up.
High above.
A massive figure cut through the sky.
Wings spread wide, dark against the gray clouds, each beat powerful enough to stir the air below.
It wasn't just a bird.
It was something far larger. More dangerous.
Its presence alone drew attention from both sides.
For a moment.
Even the fighting slowed.
Then.
"He's here!"
A voice shouted from somewhere in the ranks.
Another followed.
"Sword of Dream!"
The name spread instantly.
Like fire.
"SWORD OF DREAM!"
He was riding the large bird.
The soldiers shouted it, voices filled with sudden energy, relief, even excitement.
Hope returned. Sharp.
Immediate.
Cassian looked up, a grin breaking through the tension on his face. "That's him…!"
Around them, knights straightened, their movements gaining strength again.
Morale surged.
Like the battle had already shifted.
Theron looked up as well.
His eyes locked onto the figure above.
He felt it too. That same pull.
That same belief.
He's on our side.
But then.
A flicker. A memory. The dream.
The battlefield.
Cassian.
Gone.
Cut down in a single strike.
Theron's grip tightened slightly on his sword.
A small doubt. Sharp. Unwelcome.
But real.
He pushed it down.
It was just a dream.
He had no time for hesitation.
Not here. Not now.
Ahead.
The Captain was already moving.
Far ahead of their position, deep within the clash of soldiers.
And he wasn't holding back.
His sword cut through the battlefield with unnatural precision, each strike clean, decisive, overwhelming. But it wasn't just skill.
There was something else.
A faint blue light surrounded his blade.
Not bright.
Not flashy.
But present.
Like a thin layer of energy flowing along the edge.
It moved with him. With every swing.
Every strike. Every kill.
The moment his sword touched an enemy.
They fell.
Armor didn't matter. Defense didn't matter.
It cut through everything. Effortlessly.
The soldiers around him couldn't even get close.
They tried...And failed.
One after another.
Theron watched for a split second.
Just a moment.
But enough.
That's…
It wasn't normal. Even among knights.
That level of control. That power.
Cassian noticed too, his eyes widening slightly. "Captain's using the Blue Pathway's Expert Aura…"
There was something like admiration in his voice.
Respect.
On the battlefield, the Captain looked different.
Faster. Sharper. Untouchable.
His movements were clean, efficient, every step perfectly placed, every strike perfectly timed.
No wasted motion. No wasted energy.
Just pure mastery.
Theron's gaze lingered for a moment longer.
Then.
He moved again.
Back into the fight.
Because admiration didn't stop the enemy.
And the battle.
Was far from over.
Wings cutting through the air, sending gusts across the battlefield as it dropped lower, closer, until the ground itself seemed to tremble beneath its landing.
Soldiers stepped back instinctively.
Not in fear.
In awe.
The figure atop it remained calm, untouched by the chaos around him.
"The Sword of Dream…!"
Voices rose again, louder this time.
Hope.
Relief.
Even in the middle of war, men straightened, their grips tightening with renewed confidence.
He's here.
Theron felt it in the movement around him.
The shift.
The belief that the tide had turned.
The bird landed fully, claws digging into the mud.
The man stepped down from its back without hurry, boots touching the ground as if he were arriving at a place already under his control.
A soldier broke from the line.
Running toward him.
Armor scratched, face covered in dirt and sweat, but smiling, genuinely smiling.
"Sword of Dre—"
The blade moved. No warning. No pause.
A single, clean cut.
The soldier's head separated from his body before he could finish the word.
It hit the ground with a dull, wet sound.
Silence. Complete.
The battlefield didn't stop.
But around him, it might as well have.
No one moved.
No one understood.
Why?
For a brief moment.
No one could process what they had just seen.
Then.
The man lifted his blade slightly, the edge catching the dim light.
A faint glow began to spread across it.
Purple. Dark. Unnatural.
"Looks like," he said calmly, almost bored, "the higher-ups didn't bother telling you…"
His eyes swept across the stunned soldiers.
"…I'm no longer on your side."
The words landed heavier than any strike.
Shock spread instantly.
Confusion. Disbelief.
Then.
Fear. Real fear.
Before anyone could react.
He moved. Faster than sight.
The sword carved through the nearest group of soldiers, bodies falling apart before they even understood what was happening.
Not a fight.
A slaughter.
Men tried to raise their weapons.
Too late.
Others turned to run.
They didn't make it far.
The purple aura around his blade pulsed with every strike, growing slightly brighter, darker at the same time.
Wrong.
Something about it was wrong.
Then.
It spread.
Not physically. But mentally.
One by one.
Soldiers began to slow.
Their movements became sluggish.
Eyes unfocused.
Weapons slipping from their hands.
"What…?" one of them muttered, swaying slightly.
Another simply stopped moving entirely, standing still in the middle of the battlefield as if frozen.
No. Not frozen.
Asleep.
"…no…"
A voice shouted from behind.
"That's his skill!"
Panic crept into it.
"Anyone weaker than him!"
More soldiers faltered.
Dropped.
Or stood there, unmoving.
"…they get pulled into a dream!"
The realization hit too late.
"The Sword of Dream, he kills them while they're trapped!"
And he did. Effortlessly.
Walking through them.
Cutting them down one by one.
No resistance. No struggle. Just execution.
The battlefield around him turned into something else entirely.
Not war.
A nightmare.