The air around Ravenmoor Swamp was thick with a cold humidity, and an Erie silence in the murky gloom of evening. The swamp stretched in every direction, a desolate expanse of soft mud, stinking bogs, and crooked trees with gnarled roots sinking deep into the swampy ground. Most armies avoided this forsaken place, and for good reason: there were no stable roads, no solid ground to march on, and certainly no way to transport the heavy equipment of war. Ravenmoor was a natural barrier, standing between the northern grasslands of Carapass and the northern borderlands of Virinja.

  Derreck stood on a raised knoll, surveying the mist-laden expanse before him. Zion’s forces were coming. Despite the swamp’s fearsome reputation, the Empire of Zion had found a way to traverse it. Their secret weapon was the Ulton—an ingenious contraption almost resembling snowshoes that distributed the soldiers’ weight, allowing them to march unhindered across the treacherous mud. It was a brilliant but insidious strategy invented by Zion’s maverick general Varnak, and in all three regressions of the novel, had led to the fall of Carapass.

  In the novel Zion’s forces had emerged from the swamp like phantoms under the cover of darkness moving an entire army, and baggage train of camp followers and wagons though the countryside to Carapass, ambushing the Carapassian defenders at dawn, they had never believed an attack would come from the direction of the swamp. Unprepared for an assault from such an impossible direction, Carapass had fallen swiftly and brutally. Zion’s victory allowed them to gain a larger foothold in the grasslands and begin their relentless conquest southward.

  But this time, Derreck was here. This time, he knew what was coming.

  “Derreck?” A voice of a young man broke through his thoughts. Caiden a former backroom associate on second shift now one of his best scouts, approached, wiping sweat from his brow. “We’ve set the last of the traps, just like you asked”. He and Derreck had always talked as friends despite their age gap and now he never felt the need to address him as Lord Derreck which always seemed to shock many of the knights.

  Derreck just nodded not bothering to correct his friend, his gaze returning to the swamp. Somewhere out there, Zion’s forces were moving, hidden under the cover of night and fog. They believed they would catch Carapass unawares, deal a crippling blow to its defenses. But they were wrong. Derreck had been preparing for this moment for days, turning his knowledge of Zion’s strategy into a counterattack that would turn their clever maneuver against them.

  The swamp itself would be his weapon.

  At the far end of the swamp, hidden beneath the shadows of twisted trees, General Ardeth of Zion watched his forces make slow but steady progress. His soldiers, clad in the dark armor blackened for their mission but the deep red cloaks of the Empire they wore with pride, they moved with disciplined precision, their footsteps muffled by the soft mud beneath the Ultons strapped to their feet.

  Ardeth smiled, his confidence unwavering. The southern armies of Carapass were completely unaware of their impending doom. The swamp would provide the perfect cover for Zion’s forces to launch their surprise attack.

  “General,” one of his captains reported, saluting crisply. “Our scouts confirm no movement from the Carapassians. It seems they have no idea we’re here.”

  “Good,” Ardeth grunted. “now we move forward as planned, once we break the tree line press into formation although we might not even need it if the garrison is still sleeping. And once Carapass falls, the door to the grasslands will be open.”

  His soldiers moved like shadows through the fog, invisible to any watchful eyes. Zion’s commanders had drilled them for months, ensuring their movements were swift, silent, and deadly. The plan was foolproof. Or so Ardeth believed.

  While Zion’s army advanced, Derreck’s forces lay in wait. He had assembled a mix of local militia, an elite unit from Holforth, and of course his own knights of Atalantha. Each soldier had been trained to move silently through the swamp and use the terrain to their advantage. Hidden pits filled with sharpened stakes had been carefully placed along the path, tripwires rigged to unleash volleys of arrows from concealed positions, and sections of unstable ground had been camouflaged and ready to collapse under the weight of Zion’s soldiers.

  The plan was simple: lure Zion’s forces into the swamp’s kill zones, where the traps and terrain itself would do most of the work. The uneven, treacherous ground would slow their advance and throw them into disarray, making them easy targets for the waiting ambushers who would bottleneck them into trap areas.

  Derreck gathered his commanders, laying out the final phase of the plan. “Zion will expect us to meet them head-on, but we won’t give them that fight. Let them come to us. Once they’re deep in the swamp, we’ll have them in a kill box.”

  Tom, the grizzled former marine turned sporting goods associate who was now a captain of Atalantha, frowned. “You’re placing a lot of trust in this plan kid. What’s your plan if they catch wind of it?”

  “They won’t,” Derreck said with quiet confidence. “big armies don’t move that fast in this world they get jammed up when flanked and scrunch up while they wait for orders which is usually go the way we’re not dying and besides Zion is arrogant and that will be their downfall. They believe they’ve outsmarted us. By the time they realize they’ve walked into a trap, it will be too late.”

  As the moon rose on the horizon, casting a dull glow over the swamp, Derreck’s forces took their positions. Concealed among the twisted trees, beneath waterlogged bushes, and hidden in the thick mist cast by water mages, they waited.

  The swamp was pitch black when Zion’s vanguard reached the first trap. Their soldiers moved cautiously, the Ultons allowing them to tread lightly over the unstable ground. They were nearly halfway through the swamp when the first pit trap was triggered. A dozen soldiers fell into the concealed pit which looked like a watery mud patch, their screams cut short as sharpened stakes pierced through armor and flesh as water filled their lungs. Chaos erupted as more soldiers stumbled into the second round of traps—tripwires that loosed arrows from unseen crossbows, and more hidden pits that claimed dozens more.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Ambush!” one of Zion’s captains shouted as they ran in disarray into yet another trap, but it was too late for the remaining troops to for a defense now. Derreck’s forces sprang from the shadows, unleashing a torrent of arrows and cutting down Zion’s soldiers as they struggled to regroup only to bottleneck into more traps.

  Zion’s once-disciplined ranks were now like a mob of scared children running away from any threat while playing right into the next trap. Also the soft ground that had been their advantage now became their enemy, slowing their retreat and making it nearly impossible to organize a counterattack.

  Derreck watched from his hidden vantage point, his eyes narrowed as he observed the chaos below. His soldiers struck with precision, using the swamp’s natural cover to remain unseen. But despite the traps and the ambush’s effectiveness, Zion’s forces were larger and better equipped. If they managed to regroup, they would push through the swamp and emerge into the grasslands, where Carapass’s defenses might still crumble.

  “We need to hit their command structure,” Derreck said to Tom. “If we take out their general, the rest will fall apart.”

  tom nodded. “I’ll take a unit and flank them.”

  “No,” Derreck replied firmly. “I’ll go. You stay here and coordinate the ambush you got the experience.”

  Tom smile instead of protesting “sure let’s let the kids have all the fun”, Derreck was already slipping into the shadows of the swamp with an advance unit, his heart pounding as he made his way toward the rear of Zion’s forces, where General Ardeth and his officers would be overseeing the assault.

  At the rear of the battlefield, General Ardeth watched with growing frustration as his carefully orchestrated ambush unraveled. His elite soldiers were being cut down by an enemy they couldn’t see in a swamp that should have masked their very presence.

  “Where are they?” Ardeth growled. “How did they know?”

  His second-in-command, Captain Malis, shook his head. “The traps were set before we arrived. It’s as if they knew we’d come this way.”

  “Impossible,” Ardeth snapped. “No one could have predicted our route.”

  Derreck moved silently through the fog, cutting down Zion’s rear guards with swift, deadly precision. One by one, the soldiers fell, their bodies sinking into the mud without a sound. Finally, Derreck reached the clearing where Ardeth stood, flanked by his officers and bodyguards. The general had his back turned, focused on the chaos in the distance.

  Without hesitation, Derreck launched himself from the shadows, drawing his twin short swords, forged in the fires of Atalantha with steel from his world and expertly crafted over by artificers for over a month to draw out his mana as he had trained for weeks to do under the best teachers in all Varinja. Now his blades flashed a brilliant blue in the dim light as he struck down two of the guards in one swift motion using the . Ardeth turned, his eyes widening in surprise as Derreck carved death all around him with the skillful grace of a dancer under the glow of his blades, then his attack came toward general. But the general was quick, deflecting the blow with his own sword and stepping back to create distance.

  “You,” Ardeth snarled, “You’re the one who ruined my ambush.”

  Derreck didn’t reply. The battle was far from over.

  Ardeth circled him, his eyes blazing with fury and desperation. The sound of battle still raged around them—the cries of Zion’s soldiers trapped in ambush after ambush, the clash of steel, and the sickening squelch of bodies sinking into the swamp. Zion’s forces were breaking, their retreat growing more disorganized by the minute. And with each passing moment, Derreck’s forces were closing in, tightening the noose.

  Ardeth’s breath came in ragged gasps. His once confident sneer was gone, replaced with a grim realization. He was trapped, outmatched, and cornered. He had led his army into a disaster, and now, this once-brilliant strategy had turned into his greatest failure.

  "You've done more than ruin my ambush,” Ardeth said through gritted teeth. “You’ve humiliated Zion.”

  Derreck didn’t flinch, his swords raised and ready. He could see the exhaustion in Ardeth’s eyes, the weight of his army’s collapse pressing down on him. Yet despite his imminent defeat, Ardeth still had fire in his eyes—he was not a man who would surrender easily.

  “Do you really think this ends here?” Ardeth hissed, his voice hoarse. “Kill me it won’t stop Zion. The Empire will march, and everything you’ve fought for will burn as my people are rise.”

  The sounds of Derreck’s approaching troops grew louder. His soldiers were closing in, their torches flickering through the fog. There would be no escape for Ardeth.

  Derreck stepped forward, his swords steady. “This is your end, Ardeth. After your Surrender, maybe Zion will think twice before sending another army into these lands.”

  Ardeth’s eyes flickered with something almost like amusement. "You think I’ll be taken prisoner? You think I’ll let you parade me before your pathetic council of kings, a defeated general of Zion?”

  Derreck narrowed his gaze, sensing something dark in Ardeth’s voice. Before he could react, Ardeth reached into his belt and pulled out a small, ornate vial. The glass was dark, filled with a swirling black liquid.

  “For the will of Derva,” Ardeth cried, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

  Derreck’s eyes widened as he lunged forward, but it was too late. Ardeth uncorked the vial with a quick flick of his thumb and downed its contents in one swift motion.

  “No!” Derreck shouted, his swords clanging to the ground as he knocked the vial aside. But the general was already falling to his knees, the poison working rapidly through his veins. His body convulsed for a moment, his eyes rolling back as foam bubbled at the corners of his mouth. The strength left him all at once, and his form collapsed into the mud with a wet thud.

  Derreck stood over Ardeth’s body. The sound of his soldiers approaching grew louder, and soon Tom appeared at his side, his face grim as he looked down at the fallen general.

  “He… killed himself, dam what the hell is with these people.” tom asked, his voice cynical.

  Derreck nodded slowly, lowering his sword. "He chose death over capture. He knew Zion would never accept failure and he would never give up their secrets."

  Tom kicked a clod of mud. “Yeah. We could’ve used him for information at the least.”

  “we’ll just prepare for the next event we know will happen” Derreck added.

  He now stared down at the lifeless body, watching as the poison continued to eat away at Ardeth, his veins blackening beneath his skin. There would be no interrogation, no chance to pry secrets of from the general’s mind about Zion’s plans in this timeline. He had taken the easy way out, but in doing so, he had robbed Derreck of the chance to gain valuable insight on which regression from his novel would aid him best.

  “For the will of Derva,” Derreck repeated quietly, the words echoing in his mind. Ardeth had died with unwavering loyalty to his faith not his empire, even in the face of defeat. It was this fanatical loyalty that ran deep in Zion’s religious faith, a loyalty that would not be broken.

  The battle of Ravenmoor Swamp was over, but Derreck knew that Zion would not stop. Another general would rise, another army would march, and this war would continue until either Virinja was conquered or Zion was destroyed.

  “Prepare to move out” Derreck said.

  Tom nodded and signaled to a nearby soldier. As the men prepared to carry out the order, Derreck turned away, his thoughts already shifting to the next battle. The victory at Ravenmoor had bought them time, but the war was far from over.