The sun beat down relentlessly as our twenty thousand combined Zunian, Solaran, and Valenor forces marched towards the heart of Valerius's remaining might. The victory at Serpent's Tooth, while glorious, was but a skirmish against the true behemoth that lay ahead. Jorun's scouts had confirmed it: Valerius, despite his crippled vanguard, had managed to link up with Lord Gruff's terrifying thirty thousand barbarian warriors. The full host of the enemy, an estimated thirty-five thousand strong (Lord Gruff's untouched hordes and Valerius's remaining, though diminished, legions), stretched across the vast plains before us, a dark, undulating sea of steel and savagery.
My stomach clenched, not from fear, but from the immense weight of the numbers. My ten thousand Zunian loyalists, fierce and devoted, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the disciplined Solaran and Valenor allied forces. We were ready to die for Zuna, but I was not ready to send them to needless slaughter. This wasn't a fight we could win with brute force. We needed a different kind of weapon.
"My King," General Theronis's voice was grim as he surveyed the enemy lines. "They outnumber us nearly two to one. Even with our victory at Serpent's Tooth, a direct charge would be... costly beyond measure."
"It would be suicide, General," I corrected, my gaze fixed on the enemy's center, where Valerius's banner, a cruel serpent devouring a lion, fluttered defiantly beside Lord Gruff's crude, blood-red standard. "And I did not bring us this far to simply die bravely. We need to cut the head off this serpent, or at least break its will to fight."
My gaze drifted to Arion, who stood resolute beside me, then to Seraphina, whose eyes, filled with concern, met mine. My ribs still ached faintly from the dagger wound, a phantom pain, a reminder of our last close call. The memory of her touch, her lips, brought a warmth that belied the grim tableau before us.
"I will challenge him," I announced, my voice cutting through the tension. "Valerius. A duel. King against King. To decide this battle, to decide the fate of Zuna."
A collective gasp swept through my commanders. "My King, it's too risky!" Advisor Kaelan protested. "He's a brute. He might cheat. It's beneath you."
"A gamble, Kael?" Arion asked, his brow furrowed with concern, but also a spark of understanding. "Even for you, this is a dangerous play."
"Indeed, brother," I said, my voice resolute. "But it is a calculated one. If I defeat him, his remaining forces, already demoralized, might break. It avoids unnecessary bloodshed for our troops against overwhelming odds. It shows Zuna that their rightful king is willing to lay down his life for them. And it gives me the opportunity to remove the greatest obstacle to Zuna's freedom, directly."
My decision was firm. I strode to the front of our lines, Aether descending to land beside me, his immense presence a silent challenge. I raised the Blade of Aethel high, its faint glow reflecting the grim dawn.
"VALERIUS!" I roared, my voice amplified by a surge of Air magic, carrying across the vast plain to the enemy lines. "SON OF TREACHERY! USURPER! I, KAEL THERON, KING OF ZUNA, CHALLENGE YOU! MEET ME ON THIS FIELD, KING AGAINST KING! LET YOUR CHAMPION BE YOUR ONLY SHIELD, OR MEET ME YOURSELF! LET THE OUTCOME OF THIS DUEL DECIDE THE FATE OF THIS BATTLE!"
A long, agonizing moment passed. Then, from the Eldorian ranks, a voice, laced with chilling arrogance, boomed back. "Foolish pup! You defeated my weakened vanguard, and now you think yourself my equal? Very well, King-pretender! You seek death, and I shall grant it!"
Valerius himself stepped forward, dismounting from his armored warhorse. He was a powerfully built man, clad in black, ornate Eldorian plate armor, a cruel, heavy warhammer slung over his shoulder. He strode to the center of the field, his movements radiating confidence. He was not sending a champion. He was coming himself. His arrogance, his belief in his own invincibility, had won the day for my challenge. A dangerous thrill ran through me.
Arion clasped my shoulder. "Be careful, Kael. He's not just strong, he's ruthless. And perhaps, a dark sorcerer like his ancestor." Seraphina moved to my side, her hand briefly, fiercely, squeezing my arm. Her eyes pleaded with me to be cautious, but her resolve matched my own.
"I know," I murmured, and strode forward, Blade of Aethel a beacon of light against the looming darkness of Valerius.
The duel began. The air crackled with anticipation, two vast armies holding their breath. Valerius moved with surprising agility for a man of his bulk, his heavy warhammer a blur of destructive force. He wielded it with brutal efficiency, each swing capable of crushing bone and steel. His eyes, cold and calculating, watched my every move.
I met his assault with the fluid grace of Air magic, dodging, weaving, my Blade of Aethel dancing and deflecting his blows. I channeled Water to slick the ground beneath his feet, making him stumble. I used Fire to create sudden bursts of heat, forcing him to momentarily shield himself, buying me precious seconds. He was a relentless opponent, powerful and utterly devoid of mercy.
"You are nothing but a ghost, Kael Theron!" Valerius roared, his voice thick with exertion, but his hammer swung with undiminished power. "A memory that should have stayed buried! Your father was a fool, and you are weaker still!"
His words stung, igniting a fresh wave of fury within me. My father, the true King, had died fighting this very monster. This was more than just a duel; it was a settling of accounts, a vindication of my lineage.
I pushed back, channeling Thunder into the Blade of Aethel, the hum of raw energy vibrating through my arm. Valerius's hammer came down in a crushing arc, aiming for my head. I met it not with a parry, but a counter-attack. I ducked under his swing, rolling with my momentum, and brought Blade of Aethel up in a searing arc, channeling pure Fire and Earth into the strike.
The blade bit deep into Valerius's exposed side, the gap in his armor momentarily revealed by his wide swing. He roared, a guttural sound of pain and shock, stumbling back, clutching his side. Blood, dark and viscous, welled between his gauntleted fingers.
"You wound me, pup!" he bellowed, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and disbelief. He raised his hammer for a desperate, final, enraged strike.
This was my chance. I gathered all my remaining strength, ignoring the protests of my recently healed ribs. I met his desperate lunge with a surge of Air magic, a powerful gust that slammed into him, destabilizing his stance. As he staggered, I channeled Thunder into a swift, precise thrust.
Blade of Aethel found its mark, piercing his chest, straight through his heart. Valerius gasped, a choked, rattling sound, his eyes wide, life draining from them. His warhammer clattered to the ground, echoing in the sudden silence. He stood for a moment, swaying, then collapsed, a dead weight, to the earth.
The tyrant, King Valerius, was dead.
A stunned silence fell over the vast battlefield. On our side, a ragged cheer erupted, quickly swelling into a triumphant roar that shook the very ground. On the enemy side, there was a mixture of shock, confusion, and fear. Many Eldorians looked utterly lost, their leader fallen.
But that silence was abruptly, brutally, shattered.
From the enemy's right flank, where Lord Gruff's vast hordes were positioned, a guttural, earth-shattering roar ripped through the air.
"CHARGE! FOR LORD GRUFF! TAKE THEM ALL! NO QUARTER!"
It was Lord Gruff's voice, raw and savage, ignoring the terms of the duel, ignoring Valerius's demise, seeing only an opportunity. His thirty thousand barbarian warriors, a tide of unthinking savagery, screamed their war cries and surged forward, their crude banners snapping in the wind. The Eldorian legions, leaderless and reeling, were swept into the momentum, or simply trampled underfoot.
My heart sank. Betrayed. I had gambled on honor, and lost to savagery. The duel was meaningless to Gruff.
"FORM RANKS! PREPARE FOR CHARGE!" Theronis roared, his voice cutting through the immediate shock. Arion, his face a mask of grim determination, drew his own sword. Seraphina, her face pale, quickly moved to aid a fallen Zunian soldier nearby, her healing light already flaring.
The scale of the betrayal, the sheer numerical superiority that was now undeniable, was overwhelming. We had won the duel, but the battle had just begun, a desperate fight for survival against a monstrous, overwhelming tide. My victory had just brought us to the precipice of an even greater war.