In the narrow streets of the besieged city, the battle raged on with relentless fury. The sky had darkened; even the moon was swallowed by thick clouds. Elven blades of light and dwarven hammers still shattered the shadows, yet all eyes turned to a single sight: Mamir standing face-to-face with Trawen.
Trawen's monstrous orc body seemed to swell larger with each breath. His muscles bulged, and in his hands he wielded a massive black sword, forged from dark sorcery. His face was twisted with human features, yet his green eyes burned with a hellish fire.
— "You…" his voice rumbled like thunder, glaring at Mamir. "You slew my three brothers. Ostomas's wrath will descend upon you!"
Mamir's eyes blazed with fury. He gripped his sword tightly with both hands, stepping forward.
— "I didn't just kill them—I shattered the chains of darkness! And now, Trawen, your time has come!"
Both warriors charged. The ground shook beneath their steps. When their swords collided, the clash echoed through the city's stone walls like a scream of steel. For a moment, all else fell silent—only the ringing of blades filled the air.
Every strike of Trawen's sword unleashed dark sparks, shattering the pavement beneath them. Mamir's blade countered with bursts of radiant light, pushing back the shadows. One brutal swing sent Mamir crashing into a pillar, but he rose instantly, his grip unbroken.
From the battlefield, Ener shouted:
— "Hold on, Mamir! This fight is not yours alone—it's ours!"
Necor, cutting down dozens of shadow soldiers with his twin black swords, lifted his gaze and roared:
— "Show him your light, nephew!"
Above them, Runya hovered, her wings trembling, her hands glowing with golden streams of healing magic. Sweat poured from her face as she poured her strength into mending wounds across the battlefield. Her eyes never left Mamir. She whispered softly:
— "I believe in you, my love…"
Mamir charged again, unleashing a flurry of strikes that forced Trawen backward. Yet Trawen would not yield. With a deafening roar, he slammed his blade into the ground, sending jagged black spikes erupting from the stone. Mamir leapt into the air, flipping forward, and brought his sword down in a devastating arc, carving deep into Trawen's shoulder. Dark blood sprayed across the street.
The warlord howled in rage, raising his arms as he unleashed a wave of shadow that engulfed the square. Darkness consumed everything—except for the blinding glow of Mamir's blade. The two warriors clashed again, light against shadow, spark against flame.
Each strike shook the earth. Each blow cracked stone and sent shockwaves through the battlefield. This was no mere duel—it was the collision of two worlds.
At last, their eyes locked. Both were gasping for breath. Mamir clenched his teeth, his voice filled with unshakable resolve:
— "Darkness cannot save you, Trawen! For I am not just the Prince of Harland… I am the sworn warrior of the Light!"
With a roar, he raised his sword high in both hands and charged once more. The chapter ends here.
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