Valerius was spitting blood again.
He wiped his mouth with the back of a scorched gauntlet.
His ribs screamed in protest with every breath.
Ignis and Malakor were fifty yards ahead.
They were a meat grinder.
Ignis was melting the Elven vanguard while Malakor simply erased the reinforcements.
They were leaving a massive, empty trench of scorched marble and pure void in their wake.
Valerius was supposed to just walk behind them.
He planted the butt of his stolen Elven spear on the floor, leaning his entire body weight against the wooden shaft.
"Just put one foot... in front of the other," Valerius muttered to himself.
He took a step.
His knee buckled.
He caught himself, grinding his teeth as sharp pain shot up his spine.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Three soft, muffled impacts landed on the marble directly behind him.
Valerius didn't turn around.
He just closed his eyes and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"You have got to be kidding me," Valerius groaned.
He slowly turned his head.
Three Elven Rangers had dropped from the high, petrified roots of the canopy.
They weren't heavily armored infantry.
They wore sleek, dark leather.
They carried short, curved daggers and small, repeating crossbows.
They were an elite flanking unit.
They had let Ignis and Malakor pass right under them.
They were hunting the weak link.
The lead Ranger stepped forward.
His face was covered by a dark green mask.
"The Crown Prince is a monster," the Ranger said, his voice cold and analytical.
"The Fire Prince is a demon. The Shadow is an anomaly."
The Ranger raised his crossbow, aiming it directly at Valerius's chest.
"But you? You are just a broken child."
Valerius let out a dry, rattling laugh.
"That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day," Valerius rasped.
The Ranger pulled the trigger.
Twang.
Valerius didn't have the energy to dodge.
He didn't try to spark a shield.
He simply let go of his spear and threw his body backward, collapsing onto the marble.
The heavy steel bolt grazed his breastplate, showering him with sparks before ricocheting off into the dark.
Valerius hit the ground hard.
The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs.
"Kill him," the lead Ranger ordered, drawing his daggers. "Do it fast before the older ones notice."
The three Rangers rushed forward.
Valerius didn't panic.
He lay flat on his back, staring up at the bioluminescent ceiling.
He reached into the small, battered leather pouch on his belt.
He pulled out three small, metallic spheres.
They were the size of marbles.
He had stolen them from the Athervale armory three weeks ago.
They were raw, unrefined thunder-stones.
Highly unstable.
Completely useless without a massive input of mana to trigger them.
Valerius had zero mana left in his core.
But he didn't need mana.
He needed kinetic friction.
The first Ranger vaulted over a dead Elven soldier, his dagger raised to plunge into Valerius's throat.
Valerius casually rolled the three metallic spheres across the polished marble, right into the path of the Ranger's boots.
The Ranger didn't even see them.
His heavy leather boot slammed down directly on top of the unrefined thunder-stones.
The sheer crushing weight of the Ranger's momentum cracked the unstable metal casing.
CRACK-BOOM!
A localized, violent concussive blast erupted from the floor.
It wasn't a clean, magical lightning strike.
It was a dirty, raw explosion of static pressure.
The blast shattered the Ranger's leg instantly, sending him spinning through the air in a spray of blood and shredded leather.
The second Ranger flinched, raising his arms to shield his face from the blast.
That was exactly what Valerius needed.
He kicked his boot out, hooking the ankle of the dead Elven soldier beside him.
He used his remaining physical strength to roll the heavy corpse directly into the second Ranger's legs.
The Ranger tripped over the dead body, tumbling forward onto the slick marble.
Valerius didn't get up.
He just rolled over, grabbing his fallen spear with both hands.
As the Ranger tried to push himself up, Valerius drove the wooden shaft of the spear forward like a pool cue.
The blunt end slammed directly into the Ranger's throat, crushing his windpipe.
The Elf dropped his daggers, clutching his neck as he choked on his own blood.
Two down.
Valerius coughed, tasting copper.
He used the spear to push himself back up to a kneeling position.
The lead Ranger stopped in his tracks.
He looked at his two dead men.
He looked at the exhausted, bruised boy kneeling on the floor.
The Ranger's eyes narrowed.
"You have no honor," the Ranger hissed, gripping his daggers tight. "You fight like a rat."
Valerius spat a wad of blood onto the pristine marble.
"I am the Prince of Thunder," Valerius said, his voice completely deadpan.
"Honor is for people who aren't currently bleeding from six different places."
The Ranger lunged.
He was incredibly fast.
He crossed the distance in two steps, his daggers moving in a rapid, lethal blur.
Valerius didn't try to match his speed.
He gripped the spear near the steel tip and held it up horizontally, catching the Ranger's downward strike.
The daggers bit deep into the enchanted wood.
The Ranger snarled, pressing his weight down, forcing the blades closer to Valerius's face.
"You are out of tricks, boy," the Ranger spat.
Valerius looked past the Ranger's shoulder.
Ignis had stopped walking.
The Prince of Fire had turned around.
He was fifty yards away, but his visor was locked directly on the Ranger.
Valerius looked back at the Elf pushing down on his spear.
"I don't need tricks," Valerius whispered, a bloody, wicked grin spreading across his face.
"I have big brothers."
The Ranger's eyes widened.
He suddenly felt the temperature behind him spike to absolute, blistering extremes.
He tried to pull his daggers free and turn around.
He didn't make it.
A concentrated beam of hyper-pressurized plasma tore across the courtyard.
It didn't hit Valerius.
It passed exactly two inches over Valerius's left shoulder and slammed squarely into the back of the Ranger's head.
The Ranger's skull instantly vaporized.
The headless body went completely limp, collapsing onto Valerius.
Valerius grunted, shoving the heavy, smoking corpse off him.
He lay back down on the marble, staring at the ceiling.
Heavy, iron-shod boots crunched against the stone.
Ignis walked over.
He stood above Valerius, his armor radiating intense, suffocating heat.
"I told you to stay close," Ignis growled.
"I tripped," Valerius lied flatly.
Ignis looked at the three dead Rangers scattered around his younger brother.
He looked at the unrefined thunder-stone craters and the crushed windpipe.
Ignis reached down, grabbing Valerius by the breastplate, and hauled him up to his feet in one effortless motion.
"Stop playing with your food," Ignis said.
Valerius leaned heavily on his spear, adjusting his battered armor.
"I was just doing some pest control," Valerius coughed.
"Lead the way, boss. I'm right behind you."
Ignis turned around and kept walking toward the darkness.
Valerius dragged his boots, following the trail of scorched earth.
He was running entirely on spite, but he was still alive.