54

  The sun had barely risen above the gilded rooftops of Aurum when the first tremor rippled across the southern wall. Birds scattered from the watchtowers. Guards froze mid-patrol.

  Then—

  BOOOOM.

  The explosion shattered the iron-bound gate as if it were nothing but wet parchment. Splinters of metal and stone blasted outward, the entire gate flung a full ten yards away before crashing into the dirt road, leaving a crater in its wake.

  Dust rolled in. Screams followed. Alarm horns wailed.

  Through the settling haze, a line of silhouettes emerged—dark, precise, and silent. Cloaked in blacks and deep reds, their movements unnervingly synchronized. At their rear stood their leader, wrapped in a layered cloak of dark blue and gray. His hood hid most of his face except the faint curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  He watched the chaos before him with amusement.

  A captain of Aurum’s southern guard shouted orders, drawing swords and lances. “DEFENSIVE LINE! HOLD YOUR POSITIONS!”

  The Revenants did not slow.

  From their ranks, one figure stepped forward—small, slender, and disturbingly calm. Two curved daggers glimmered in her hands. Her steps were light, almost playful.

  “Hop,” the cloaked leader murmured, though she needed no command.

  She vanished.

  A swirl of black smoke marked where she had been. In the next instant, she reappeared before the front guard, fist aimed for his abdomen. The guard reacted instinctively, slashing downward with his sword—but her body dissolved again, evaporating into drifting shadows.

  She reemerged at his right side.

  WHAM!

  Her punch connected with ribs. The guard flew backward like a broken doll, crashing into two others and sending them sprawling.

  Then she blurred again.

  Screams followed wherever she passed.

  A throat slit.

  A tendon severed.

  A blade through an armpit.

  A cut behind the knee.

  Guards collapsed, writhing, clutching wounds they could not even comprehend—each strike delivered with surgical cruelty, each one accompanied by the faint hiss of black smoke curling around her form.

  More guards rushed from both flanks, shouting for support.

  Another Revenant stepped forward.

  A giant of a man, who shrugged off his cloak to reveal shoulders like boulders and a chest that looked carved from mountain stone. His skin shimmered faintly with embedded mineral-like veins.

  “Terry,” someone whispered from the Aurum line.

  He smiled—a large, warm smile that contrasted terrifyingly with what he did next.

  With a grunt, Terry smashed his fist into the ground.

  CRRRRACKKK

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  The earth split. A wave of jagged stone erupted forward, spearing through the chests of three guards and sending them tumbling back, armor cracking like eggshells.

  Terry charged, surprisingly fast for his massive frame. He grabbed the nearest guard by the helmet and squeezed.

  CRUNCH.

  The helmet collapsed under his palm. The man’s body went limp. Terry tossed him casually into a cluster of approaching soldiers, knocking them over like bowling pins.

  He stomped once more.

  Another eruption of stone blasted outward—dozens of sharp rocks spiraling like shrapnel around him and tearing through armor.

  Still, the reinforcements kept coming.

  And this time, they did not come alone.

  Two figures approached through the dust—one clad in ceremonial magus robes of green and gold, the other wearing simple, travel-worn attire. Galen walked with a staff carved from windwood, its head shaped like twisting streams of frozen air. His expression was cold, calculating.

  Hector, on the other hand, strolled behind him with hands in pockets, effortlessly unbothered, as though observing a street performance.

  Hop was the first to engage.

  She darted toward Galen, daggers dancing. She vanished right before reaching him—reappeared behind him—vanished—emerged at his right—

  Galen did not turn.

  He merely lifted one hand.

  FWOOOOOM

  A burst of compressed air blasted outward. Hop was launched across the plaza, slamming into a lamppost hard enough to crack the metal.

  Terry roared, tearing a brick from a crumbled wall and hurling it at Galen.

  The mage flicked his staff.

  The brick reversed direction instantly—its speed doubling as it smashed into Terry’s forehead. The giant staggered backward, shaking his head like a stunned bull.

  “Impressive,” Hector murmured behind Galen, voice soft with genuine appreciation.

  Barang watched from behind the Revenants, expression unreadable. Galen’s display meant nothing to him. He had seen horrors that made such power look like a child’s trick.

  Hop rose from the dirt, blood trickling from her mouth. Terry cracked his neck, grinning despite the ringing in his skull.

  They sprinted together—Hop to the left, Terry straight ahead.

  Galen planted his staff into the ground. It stood upright on its own.

  He raised one arm.

  The air twisted violently.

  Hop and Terry froze mid-charge as if the world had paused. Then—

  THOOM

  An invisible force hurled them skyward.

  Hop slammed into a stone wall, embedding half her body into it before she tumbled down. Terry crashed into the fountain, shattering its marble rim.

  Still, the Revenants rose. Bruised, bleeding, but grinning with a fanatic kind of joy.

  A heavier step echoed from the Revenant ranks.

  One figure emerged, removing his cloak with careful reverence. Underneath was a knight clad in ancient, mismatched armor—scars of melted metal and claw marks carved across the plates. His eyes were calm, devout.

  He carried a greatsword almost as tall as himself.

  “Therson,” the leader said softly.

  The knight knelt, resting both hands on his blade. His lips moved in silent prayer. A faint hum resonated from the sword, as though responding to his devotion.

  When he stood, the atmosphere shifted.

  Galen braced.

  Therson dashed forward—a metal-clad blur. His first swing came horizontally, a sweeping gale of steel.

  CLANG!

  Galen blocked with his staff, feet digging into the cobblestone.

  Therson reversed the swing—another block.

  Then a downward strike—deflected again.

  But little by little, thin cuts began appearing on Galen’s sleeves. A nick across his shoulder. A slash near his ribs. The greatsword wasn’t just sharp—it cleaved, cutting through air itself, extending its reach beyond steel.

  Galen’s eyes widened with realization.

  Therson dropped to one knee again mid-fight, touched his forehead to the blade, then rose—

  —and struck with newfound, terrifying force.

  Galen summoned a circular barrier—wind swirling into a translucent dome around him.

  Therson’s sword pierced it.

  The greatsword slid through the barrier like it was water, slicing into Galen’s shoulder. The mage gasped and staggered back.

  He raised his palm.

  Lightning cracked down from the sky—

  —but a shell-like barrier expanded around Therson. The bolt struck it harmlessly, diffusing like rain on glass.

  Galen attempted again, jaw clenched.

  The same—lightning scattered across the mysterious shell that protected the knight.

  Therson advanced, blade humming.

  One final swing.

  SHHHK

  The greatsword sliced through the air, striking Galen across the torso. His staff shattered under the force, fragments scattering like broken ice. Galen fell to one knee, breath ragged, blood dripping down his robes.

  The plaza fell silent.

  Hector slowly raised his head, expression shifting from mild interest to something sharper—focused.

  Barang watched all this with no triumph, no emotion—only the emptiness that had long replaced his humanity.

  And the Revenant leader…

  Behind his blue-gray cloak, his smile widened.