The battlefield was already drenched in blood, but when the first crack of thunder split the sky, silence spread across both sides. The winds stilled, the clash of blades halted, and every beast, man, and dragon alike froze as if an unseen force pressed against their chests.
Kael stood at the heart of the carnage, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. He felt it before he saw it — a presence so suffocating it felt like the mountains themselves were bowing. His instincts screamed, and for the first time in years, a flicker of unease danced across his face.
From beyond the shattered ridge, a figure emerged. Cloaked in midnight armor that seemed woven from shadows themselves, he walked with deliberate steps, each one echoing like a drumbeat of doom. His helm was crowned with jagged horns, his cape trailed behind him as if alive, and his very aura twisted the air.
Malrik.
The name was whispered like a curse through the ranks of soldiers. Men fell to their knees. Some fled outright, abandoning their weapons, while others trembled so fiercely their blades rattled against their shields.
Selara stepped closer to Kael, her sapphire eyes narrowing. "That… is no ordinary foe. His aura…" She bit her lip, her usually calm voice carrying a tremor.
Nyxara's golden hair whipped in the wind, her fists clenched tight. "I've heard tales. The Warbringer. The man who commands armies with a single gesture. He devoured kingdoms as if they were nothing."
Aurielle's usually playful demeanor vanished. Her scarlet gaze was deadly serious as she whispered, "Kael… this isn't a battle. This is slaughter waiting to happen."
Kael's jaw tightened, but his expression remained unreadable. "Then let's test if he's worthy of the fear he spreads."
Malrik stopped in the center of the field, raising his black greatsword that pulsed with runes like living veins. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he pointed it toward Kael. His voice was a guttural growl, deep and commanding, resonating in every ear:
"You. Son of no name. Do you dare stand before me?"
Kael did not flinch. His eyes glimmered faintly, his aura rising like a sleeping giant stirred awake. "I don't kneel. Not to men. Not to monsters."
Malrik chuckled, the sound like stones grinding together. "Good. Then I won't feel shame crushing you beneath my heel."
At his signal, figures stepped out from the shadows behind him — the Elite, six warriors clad in obsidian armor, each radiating an aura equal to a dragon's might. Their presence alone warped the battlefield, making seasoned veterans choke on their fear.
The Elites fanned out, their weapons gleaming wickedly. A sorcerer with eyes of molten gold. A giant wielding twin axes. A woman cloaked in black feathers who carried a scythe dripping with a red mist. Three more followed, each more terrifying than the last.
Selara's hand touched Kael's arm, her voice low. "Kael… they're unlike anything we've fought. Even together—"
Kael cut her off, his voice cold and resolute. "Then we fight harder."
With a roar, the Elites charged, splitting the battlefield into chaos once again. Steel clashed, fire ignited, and screams filled the air as Kael and his women braced themselves for the storm.
Kael's blade met the giant's axes in a thunderous crash, shaking the earth. Sparks flew, dust erupted, and the fight began in earnest.
Selara's dragon form erupted in sapphire brilliance, wings slicing the air as she clashed with the sorcerer. Nyxara dove at the scythe-wielder, her claws glowing with divine flame, while Aurielle danced through the fray, her strikes playful yet deadly as she faced two of the Elites at once.
The battle was chaos given form — blood, fire, steel, and fury. But in the eye of it all, Malrik merely stood, watching, his arms crossed, as if the fight before him was nothing more than theater. His gaze never left Kael.
And for the first time, Kael understood. This was not just war. This was a message.
Malrik had come not to win a battle. He had come to break him.