The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the battlefield as Aeron prepared his forces for the coming assault. The knowledge of spies and traitors weighed heavily on his mind, but there was no time for hesitation.
Lyria moved beside him, her eyes sharp and focused. "We strike before the Pantheon's poison reaches the city. Our window is closing."
Aeron's hands clenched into fists, his divine power simmering just beneath the surface. "We end this tonight."
The rebels moved swiftly under the cover of twilight, infiltrating the enemy's encampment with silent precision. Every step was measured, every breath held.
In the heart of the camp, Aeron faced a figure cloaked in black—the Silent Blade—an assassin whispered about in legends, said to be the deadliest in all the realms.
Their clash was swift and fierce. Blades met in a dance of death, shadows flickering as steel clashed.
Despite the assassin's skill, Aeron's power surged with every strike, pushing him forward. The fight was not just physical—it was a battle of wills.
Finally, with a surge of celestial energy, Aeron disarmed the Silent Blade. Breathing heavily, the assassin lowered their weapon.
"You fight well," the assassin said, voice cold but respectful. "But this war is far from over."
Aeron's eyes narrowed. "Then we fight until the last breath."
As the rebel forces secured the camp, Aeron knew the Silent Blade's warning was true. The path ahead was dark and dangerous — but he would not falter.