The cries of men and steel still rang in Ryon's ears, though the duel had already ended. He could barely feel the ground beneath him as his knees sank into the churned mud, slick with blood and rain. The scarred commander's body lay a few paces away, his one good eye glazed in permanent fury, the lines of his life etched into the ruined skin of his face. For a long moment, Ryon simply stared at the corpse, the weight of the man's death pressing on him more than the cuts, bruises, and searing pain across his body.
The Wrath-Knight of the North was no more.
But the battle had not ended with him.
