The kingdom of Arvel was burning. Soldiers screamed, blades clashed, and fire painted the night sky red. In the middle of the battlefield stood Kael, the last warrior of his clan. His armor was broken, his sword chipped, but his spirit burned stronger than fire.
Before him stood the enemy general, a giant with eyes as cold as stone.
"You are the last one," the general laughed. "Surrender, and I will spare you."
Kael wiped the blood from his face. "A warrior never surrenders. Not while his heart still beats."
With a roar, Kael charged. The two swords met, sparks flying like lightning. Each strike shook the ground. The general swung with monstrous power, but Kael moved like the wind—fast, sharp, unstoppable.
Finally, Kael's blade pierced through the enemy's chest. The giant fell, his laughter fading into silence.
Kael raised his sword to the burning sky. Though his clan was gone, their spirit lived on through him. He was no longer just a fighter. He was a legend.