The field did not end with the golden knight's fall.
If anything, it grew hungrier.
The slain commander's men, driven by rage, surged forward to avenge him. Kael barely had time to wipe the blood from his blade before three more broke through the chaos—each a champion in their own right.
One bore a flail crackling with sovereign-blessed lightning, his armor blackened like burned iron.
Another wielded twin sabers curved like a serpent's fangs, his movements fluid, predatory.
The third carried no weapon at all, only gauntlets etched with blood-sigils, his fists striking with the weight of hammers.
Darric growled, planting his halberd in the mud. "Three at once. They mean to bury us."
Lyra notched another arrow, silver fire hissing along the shaft. "Then we don't let them breathe."
Kael stepped forward, crimson aura flaring brighter, the mud boiling where his boots struck. He raised his sword. "Come, then."
The flail knight lunged first. The weapon whirled overhead, chain singing before it slammed down with a crack like thunder. Kael caught the strike on his blade, sparks and arcs of lightning hissing across his crimson aura. The force drove him half a step into the muck—but he held.
"Crimson Shatter!" Kael roared, twisting his sword upward. The blade split the flail's chain mid-swing, sparks and links scattering like burning stars. The knight staggered—but the serpent-sabers came next, whistling toward Kael's ribs.
Lyra's arrow flew, piercing one saber clean through the hilt. The man snarled as the weapon clattered uselessly, but the second blade still lashed forward. Kael pivoted, his sword flashing, and with a clean, merciless arc—beheaded him.
The gauntleted fighter bellowed, fists slamming into Kael's chest. The impact rippled crimson aura, forcing Kael back through the mud. He coughed blood, then spat it at the man's boots.
"You hit hard," Kael said, voice cold, "but not hard enough."
His sword ignited crimson flame. With both hands, he carved a brutal upward stroke.
"Severing Fang!"
The gauntlets cracked, flesh and bone splitting. The fighter's scream was cut short as Kael's blade finished the arc—cleaving him from waist to shoulder.
The mud drank more blood.
Yet even as the champions fell, the chanting grew louder. Across the ridge, Veil cultists raised their arms, black smoke coiling into the sky. A circle of bone and ash flared to life—Veilspawn, clawed and shrieking, spilling forth like shadows given flesh.
Kaelen reined his horse close, his voice cutting through the chaos. "The claimants are not our only enemy, Kael. The Veil watches this battle… and feeds from it."
Kael looked at the battlefield stretching into hellfire—soldiers clashing, banners torn, the Veilspawn clawing into men's throats. He tightened his grip on his sword, crimson aura blazing so brightly it looked like dawn breaking in the storm.
"Then we'll burn them all," he said. "Steel and shadow alike."
The companions pressed forward—into the heart of a battle that was no longer mortal, but something far darker.