The ship screamed as it tore through the colored sky. Kael's restraints rattled against his chest, digging into him with every jolt. The Titans roared over the noise, their voices filling the cabin with chants and laughter. Some slammed their heads against the walls in rhythm, while others shouted wagers about who would take the first kill. The air reeked of sweat, fuel, and arrogance.
Kael stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the shifting sky through the narrow window. The streaks of light bent and twisted as the ship plummeted lower. The floating stones drifted past, carved runes pulsing like veins in the air. The sight drew more laughter from the soldiers.
"Even their sky is fragile!" one bellowed.
"Pretty lights will not save them," another jeered.
The officer stood motionless at the front, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze unflinching. His silence was heavier than their noise.
"Impact in ten," he said at last, his voice cutting through the cabin like a blade.
The Titans roared louder, fists slamming into their restraints.
Kael only exhaled.
The ship hit the ground like a hammer. The impact shook the walls, throwing dust into the air. The restraints snapped free with a hiss. The doors burst open, steam flooding out.
The soldiers poured down the ramp, boots cracking soil as they hit the ground. They shouted, shoved, and laughed as if the world already belonged to them. Their arrogance carried like a storm across the field.
Kael followed, his steps steady. The soil under his boots was soft, humming faintly as though alive. The air carried a sharp scent, like herbs burning in a temple, heavy and unfamiliar. He inhaled, his chest prickling as if the air itself was pressing against him.
The battlefield stretched wide before them. Rows of magicians stood ready, their robes snapping in the wind. Runes glowed around their hands, spinning into shapes that burned with color. The youngest among them looked scarcely older than Kael had been on his first march. Yet their eyes held no fear, only fire.
The officer raised his arm. "Titans. Advance."
The soldiers surged forward at once, a tide of muscle and fury.
The first wave of spells struck like a storm. Fire leapt into serpents, their jaws snapping as they whipped toward the Titans. Spears of stone shot upward from the ground, sharp enough to pierce steel. Chains of light lashed outward, curling for wrists and ankles.
The Titans did not falter. One smashed through fire with a fist, laughing as flames broke across his chest. Another kicked down a spear of stone and shattered it into dust. Chains wrapped around arms only to be torn apart with a grunt. Their laughter rose higher than the clash of magic.
"Tricks!" a soldier bellowed.
"Painted lights!" another roared, smashing through a wall of ice with his bare shoulders.
Kael moved with them, his pace measured. His gloves glowed faintly as he swept aside a whip of fire. But his eyes did not leave the magicians. He saw how their spells wove together: flames feeding on wind, wind scattering ice, illusions splitting bodies into dozens. This was not chaos. It was a song.
The land itself joined them. The soil pulsed faintly with their rhythm, the rivers of light bent closer to their chants, and even the air seemed to turn sharp with their defiance. This was no weakness. This was resistance.
A surge of stone erupted in front of Kael, jagged walls splitting the soil. He ducked low, his boots grinding through dirt, and drove his fist upward. The strike shattered the stone in a single blow, fragments scattering like broken glass. Through the dust, three magicians stood waiting. Their arms rose together, runes blazing down their wrists.
Light burst outward. Chains of script wrapped around Kael's arms and legs, pulling tight with a weight that pressed into his chest. His knees bent under the force. Gravity crushed down on him as though the world itself were trying to bury him.
The three shouted in unison, voices raw, binding him deeper. The soil beneath his boots split open, sinking under his weight. Kael's teeth clenched. His vision blurred at the edges. His gloves trembled as his hands fought to curl into fists.
Power surged through him, heavy and relentless. He roared, forcing his arms outward. The chains cracked, splintered, and finally shattered into sparks of light. With one step he ripped himself free, the ground breaking apart beneath him. His punch slammed forward, dragging the three magicians into its pull. Their bodies folded midair before they crashed into the dirt, runes scattering like ash.
The air cleared. Kael's chest heaved once, twice. The noise of battle pressed in again, louder than before.
"Did you see that?" a Titan bellowed. "He crushed their spell like nothing!"
"They cannot bind us!" another roared.
Their laughter shook the battlefield, rolling over the cries of the wounded.
Kael lowered his fists slowly. The weight of the chains clung to his skin, even broken. The magicians had not fought like cowards. They had fought knowing the cost, with eyes that did not yield even as they fell.
The officer's voice thundered above the chaos. "Forward! Do not stop until their walls are dust!"
The Titans roared as they pressed deeper. Firestorms split across the horizon, rivers of light rose into the sky, stone shattered under fists and boots. The soldiers tore through defenses as if the land were theirs already, their laughter carried louder than the storm of magic.
Kael moved with them, but his steps felt heavier than stone. Each strike he saw, each roar he heard, pressed against him like another restraint. The soil pulsed faintly under his boots, almost like a heartbeat. The air clung tighter to his skin, sharp and restless.
This world was not weak. It was breathing. Kael clenched his fists again and kept marching, his silence louder to him than the chants of conquest around him. The Titans laughed at victory. But in the hollow of his chest, doubt burned deeper.