The sight was one of blood and destruction, the clash between Vor’s forces and the Golden Legion unfolding. Kael watched the battle below through the shifting light of Argarath’s eyes, absorbing the theater of war.

  Felix Thunderhands had swooped down and fought Vor. A battle of flame against lightning, demon against human. Streaks of lightning and flashes of flame lit the battlefield as the commanders of both armies clashed.

  The Golden Legion was strong, as strong as Vor warned Kael. But the game was more than just brute force. It was about knowing when to strike, and where.

  Kael realized it was time. Time for the next part of his strategy. The plan he had set in motion, long before the battle had reached this point.

  Kael’s focus shifted, watching through the wisp’s eyes as it moved, darting through the air with speed and agility, away from the Golden Fields. Argarath flew westward, toward the Golden City.

  The Golden City was a fortress, Kael had known this from his map. Two routes, that was all they had: the North and South gates. Everywhere else, the city was surrounded by a deep chasm.

  The chasm was a natural defense, an obstacle that would stop any army in its tracks. The north and south gates were the only viable routes into the city, the only way in. The rest of the city was nearly impossible to access from the ground, surrounded by cliffs and sheer drops. It was their greatest strength, the one thing that kept Golden City safe for centuries.

  But Kael was no ordinary strategist. The chasm was both a strength—and an opportunity.

  The Golden City was a splendid site. The golden streets, the golden walls, the prosperity and bustle of its people. Kael dreamt of walking, exploring the city. But not today. Today was war.

  In the distance, Kael could see a large flock of leathery creatures. The Oculothrax, those small, grotesque eyeball creatures with leathery wings, swooped through the sky like a cloud of flying pests. The Oculothrax were typically used for scouting, but Kael had repurposed them.

  He had turned them into weapons of war.

  His lips curled into a slight smile as he watched the swarm arrive as planned. But there was more to it than just the swarm of Oculothraxs. Skaras, the size of Xal, rode on the backs of the Oculothraxs. They may be small but they would fight with the ferocity that Kael needed.

  Kael chuckled softly, his thoughts turned to the days before, when Vor had scorned the idea of small Skaras. “Why small when they can be big?” Vor had scoffed, dismissing the need for anything less than a massive force.

  This was why.

  The Oculothraxs swooped low over the Golden City, their riders ready for what Kael had planned. A precision strike designed to tear through the heart of the undefended city.

  The small Skaras hopped from the Oculothrax and landed with surprising agility. Armed with small, spiny swords, the Skara immediately began wreaking havoc. Their bodies, still as savage and brutal as their larger kin, tore through the streets of the Golden City, slashing and hacking at anyone in their path.

  The streets of Golden City were a maze of golden buildings, their beauty and grandeur now stained with blood. The citizens, unprepared, unarmed, were helpless in the face of the chaos.

  A few had grabbed what weapons they could Wooden clubs, rusty swords, anything that could serve as defense. But it was nothing compared to the destruction being brought down upon them by the Skara.

  It was a bloodbath.

  The Golden City—the pride of the humans, the bastion of their civilization—was under siege.

  Kael smiled to himself, his plan successful. The legion’s frontlines were stretched thin by Vor and it appeared his misdirection with the message to the king had lured the reserves out of the city.

  Screams echoed across the streets, the sound of death ringing out as the Skara moved like a storm, unrelenting and merciless.

  For a moment, Kael felt a tightness in his chest, a flicker of guilt that lingered in his heart. This wasn’t the same as the battles he had fought before. These weren’t adventurers or invaders attacking him.

  The Golden Legion and the Golden City had never made a move against him—they had no reason to. He had only come to know them recently, and though they had stood as obstacles, they hadn’t been his enemies. And now, these people, these citizens, were being slaughtered without cause, unprepared for war.

  “Well, that is Masters for you,” Kael said. “The humans reincarnate anyways.”

  The guilt, as fleeting as it was, slipped away like water down a river. They would come back, just as the Golden Legion would return, just as everyone would. Everyone except Masters.

  So Kael steeled himself, his attention shifted again. Argarath, the wisp, had moved through the slaughter of Golden City. Kael’s eyes sharpened to a figure in the distance, standing resolute against the tide of Skaras. The man was old, his face lined with age, but there was strength in his posture.

  A man in shining armor, his blade swinging with ease, the steel cutting through the air. Each swing of his sword cleaved through a Skara, leaving demons dead on the ground. The Skara, for all their brute strength and reckless aggression, were no match for this man’s skill.

  He’s strong, Kael thought as he watched the man cut two Skaras in half with a single swing. Stronger than Thunderhands, stronger than Terrance, perhaps even stronger than Vor.

  This was all part of the plan, Kael thought.

  He hadn’t expected the Golden Legion to leave the city completely undefended. No, he had known they would try to fight back. And this one man army was doing a good job at that.

  Argarath flew higher into the sky, his small glowing form darting between the smoke and the distant sounds of the battle. The wisp blinked brightly four times. A signal.

  The Oculothraxs followed, their wings flapping furiously as they descended from the sky. The Skaras jumped onto their backs and the winged eyes shot back into the air, soaring once again above the city. The swarm split into different directions, scattering in the air.

  The Skara were dropped again in a different part of the city, where the assault continued, creating multiple points of conflict throughout the streets. It was all going according to plan.

  “Four blinks,” Kael said.

  The Masters in Vor’s domain had seen the signal. They were watching, following, executing the strategy with precision. He could almost feel the thrill of the plan coming to fruition.

  But as Argarath soared higher, Kael’s attention shifted back to the old man in shining armor. The one who had taken up arms against the Skara in the streets was now looking up.

  Kael’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him. The old man had seen the blinks. Perhaps.

  Argarath flew higher, trying to obscure its form in the glaring sunlight, the wisp’s movements erratic as it darted back and forth, attempting to hide from the knight’s gaze.

  Did he see me? Kael thought to himself. How could someone like that have noticed so quickly? Had the old man seen Argarath’s trail? Or had he simply noticed the patterns forming, the strange movements the Oculothrax made as they flew around?

  For a moment, there was nothing. No movement. No change.

  Then, the man moved towards the nearest Skara attack, seemingly unaware of Argarath’s presence.

  Kael sighed as the Skara continue their rampage through the streets. He hoped his wisp wasn’t seen. He had been reckless, overly eager with his plan and now his secret involvement with Vor may be revealed.

  His thoughts, however, were pulled elsewhere, drawn by the faintest flicker of movement leaving the Golden City.

  It was a blur of speed, a flash that moved faster than the eye could track. Argarath darted through the sky, its tiny form following the strange, swift figure that had caught Kael’s attention. The wisp zoomed in, its glowing blue form flickering as it homed in on the target. Kael’s breath caught in his chest as he watched the figure come into focus.

  It was a man. A human.

  Dressed in dark leather, the man moved at a pace that was unnatural. As fast as a wisp. The man’s form seemed to bend the light as he rushed from the Golden City toward the Golden Fields, heading straight for the frontlines.

  Without missing a beat, the man reached the frontline, running among the Golden Legion’s ranks, his daggers already out. In an instant, the man leaped high into the air, his body twisting in a perfect arc, throwing his daggers with impossible speed.

  Fifty daggers? More? Kael couldn’t count them all. Each one disappeared into the mass of demons, cutting through the Vor’s horde.

  But just as suddenly as he had appeared, the man disappeared. Kael watched as the figure vanished out of sight, in the blink of an eye. Where had he gone?

  Through Argarath’s eyes, Kael looked around wildly, and he saw it. The man appeared again, but not on the ground. He was on Felix Thunderhands’ Griffin.

  Felix looked shocked at the sudden appearance of the man on his mount. For a moment, he was taken aback, his Griffin fluttering in the air, its wings beating furiously to keep balance. Kael could see the shock in Felix’s expression, the confusion in his eyes as the man spoke to him, gesturing in the air.

  Felix nodded, quickly processing whatever the man had said, agreeing with whatever plan they had spoken of.

  Then, the man did something Kael had not expected. The man jumped off Felix’s Griffin, diving straight into the air. Kael’s eyes widened as he watched the figure plummet, his body cutting through the air with terrifying speed. The man wasn’t retreating—he was charging. Charging straight at Vor.

  Vor, the towering force of destruction that led this demon horde. Vor, the massive Master that broke the legion’s shield wall. Now, someone was daring to challenge him.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  As the man descended, Felix pulled hard on the reins of his Griffin. The flying beast banked sharply as it turned back toward the Golden City.

  The man crashed onto Vor, driving his daggers into Vor’s massive shoulders. The demon general roared in pain, his eyes flashing with rage.

  In the blink of an eye, Vor grabbed the man, his massive, armored hand wrapping around him like a vise. With a swift motion, he was thrown to the ground, only for him to flip mid-air, landing on his feet without a hint of hesitation.

  Vor’s demons closed in, circling the man, their massive forms looming like hungry predators, but the man moved like lightning. Kael could see a faint glint of light shining from the tips of his daggers as the man slashed through the air, cutting through the demons surrounding him.

  Skara, Harags, and Hellhounds. All were turned into mangled corpses in his wake, their bodies falling apart in an almost graceful manner. They didn’t stand a chance.

  Vor charged forward, swinging his dual battleaxes with the kind of fury only a demon of his size could muster. But the man dodged with ease, his body twisting and turning. It was almost as if he had already anticipated Vor’s every move.

  Kael watched as the demon general’s eyes blazed with anger, his molten axes glowing with a red-hot fury that seemed to burn the very air around him. He swung his axes again, the force of the strike sending shockwaves through the battlefield.

  But the man—he was almost bored. Kael could feel it. Vor’s axes swung down, but the man was already behind him, the air around him crackling with energy as he slashed at Vor’s back leg, the cut deep and precise.

  Vor’s leg buckled, but he didn’t fall. Instead, the demon general’s body began to glow red, a bright, fiery hue that illuminated the battlefield around them. A massive ball of flame burst from Vor’s body in a violent, blinding explosion.

  Kael felt the heat of the explosion through Argarath’s eyes, the blinding light filling the air. The flame engulfed everything in its path but the man, the one with the daggers, was already gone.

  The man was faster than the flame, faster than even Vor’s deadly explosion. The man outran the fire. He stopped just as the ball of flame began to dissipate, standing still for the briefest of moments, almost as if he were daring the flames to touch him.

  The man didn’t just survive; he outpaced the very force that was meant to destroy him.

  The man turned back toward Vor, his daggers flashing through the air once more. With every step, he cut down demons who dared to approach him.

  Vor swung his molten axes with all his might, but the man was already there. His feet landed on the axe blade as though it were a stepping stone. He used the weapon as leverage, launching himself into the air with a deadly grace.

  Before Vor could react, the man threw one of his daggers. It flew through the air with terrifying accuracy, and in an instant, Vor’s massive, glowing eye was pierced. Vor’s roar shook the earth, but Kael could see it in the demon general’s face. A flicker of surprise, of pain.

  Vor staggered back, his molten axes now lowered, his rage momentarily quelled by the pain from the dagger in his eye.

  The outcome of the battle seemed forlorn. Vor, for all his power, was in danger. Kael could feel the weight of the moment, a heavy realization. If Vor died now, he won’t get paid.

  Kael had prepared for this moment. He’d planned for a retreat, though he had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Vor had hated the idea, the very thought of retreating disgusted him.

  Argarath soared higher, its tiny blue form darting into the sky, the wind rushing past it as it moved swiftly, trying to stay unseen, trying to stay unnoticed. He ordered the wisp to flash twice, the signal he had set up to alert Vor’s giant, fat, pale lieutenant.

  And then, the response came.

  The lieutenant, the giant demon, raised his bulky arm and grabbed a massive boulder. With a terrifying grunt, the lieutenant hurled the boulder through the air. The rock arced across the battlefield, heading straight for the dagger-wielding man.

  Kael could see it through Argarath’s eyes: the man didn’t even flinch. The man dodged the boulder, his body slipping through the air like water. The boulder crashed into the ground with a deafening roar, sending up a cloud of dust and debris.

  But the man had already moved. He was unharmed.

  Another double blink from Argarath.

  The lieutenant threw another boulder, arching through the air in the direction of the daggered man.

  In an almost effortless motion, the man sliced the boulder into four pieces, the massive rock breaking apart like it was little more than soft clay in the man’s hands. The pieces of the rock rained down, scattered across the battlefield, but the man didn’t break stride.

  Kael could already see Vor seizing the opportunity. The falling rocks proved a distraction and had given Vor a chance. The masses of demons, sensing the shift, moved in like a flood, pushing forward to the dagger wielding man. Kael could feel the plan working—Vor was pulling back.

  The demon general moved with speed, quickly reaching his square while the mysterious dagger warrior was held by his horde of demons.

  Argarath floated down toward Vor’s square, focused on the large stone structure that had become the heart of the demon forces. Vor had retreated inside and a shockwave rippled through Vor’s square.

  As the explosion of energy washed over the area, the blue walls of Vor’s domain began to reform. Kael could see the walls solidifying again, the glow of magic building up, a protective barrier to hold back any further intruders.

  Through Argarath’s eyes, Kael saw Vor emerged from the structure and sat on the ground. His burning gaze still full of fury. The demon reached up with a massive hand and pulled the dagger from his own eye, the flaming orb still seething with rage.

  His regeneration was already at work. Kael could see it. Vor’s damaged eye slowly reformed, the skin knitting together as flames burst from the wound, the new eye solidifying into a fiery orb.

  “I tasted defeat today.”

  Vor’s voice was low, a growl of anger.

  Kael held his breath, watching intently. The demon general was a being of pride, and this wasn't just a loss for Vor. This was a deep personal wound.

  Through the wisp’s eyes, Kael could see Vor turning toward his orb, his massive form slumped slightly. But Kael’s heart skipped a beat as he saw the number that appeared on the orb’s surface.

  Kills: 4 604 511

  The number was staggering. Vor’s rage, his pain, his loss, was now tempered by something else. The power of his victory. Even in retreat, Vor’s army had decimated countless enemies.

  "Kael, you genius strategist."

  Kael felt his chest tighten as he watched the demon general laugh, his booming laughter echoing through the square. Vor, for all his pride and honor for combat, had adapted. And Kael knew this was no longer a defeat for him.

  "This has to be my best," Vor said, his laughter continuing.

  Argarath lingered in the air, its blue light pulsing softly. The wisp was still, almost contemplative, before it traced the words out dramatically in the air.

  Wait for it.

  ******

  King Kaden sat at the head of the long golden dining table, surrounded by glistening walls of the same precious metal. The Golden Palace, as it was called, was more than just a palace. It was a show of wealth, a show of power. Yet it felt hollow.

  He absentmindedly cut a piece of steak, his golden utensils gliding through the meat. He wasn’t hungry—not anymore. His mind was preoccupied with the battle outside the palace, in the city and on the fields. His eyes flicked to the golden goblet in his hand as he took a slow sip. Water today, not wine. He needed a clear head.

  Felix, Darion, and Elias stood in the hall, their presence a stark contrast to the decadence of the room. Felix, the commander of his army, still wore his golden armor, its shine dulled by the sweat and dust of the battlefield.

  Darion, the seasoned knight with his white hair, was a silent presence, his posture rigid. And Elias, the young rogue in his dark leathers, stood with arms folded, a sense of restless energy about him.

  Kaden slammed his goblet down, his eyes flickering between them.

  "Can any of you tell me what happened out there today?" Kaden asked.

  “Your Grace, Vor has never fought like this," Felix said. "An Oculothrax dropping Skara? That has never happened."

  He shook his head, as if struggling to comprehend what he had seen. Kaden had never been on the battlefield but he heard of these creatures. Mere annoyances at best. And the Skara. He always thought of them as massive lizards, only to hear that they were just as dangerous when they were small.

  Kaden set his utensils down and gripped his goblet tight. "Those beasts are the least of my worries now. What of the citizens?"

  “The majority of the citizens managed to get to the vaults in time to escape when Sir Darion bought them some precious moments. He slowed the demons long enough for the civilians to find shelter.” Felix turned to Darion, his respect for the seasoned knight evident in the simple nod of acknowledgment.

  “Bought time?” Kaden repeated. “Yet millions died. And what of the demons?"

  “The legion is clearing the stragglers on the Golden Field,” Felix said. “But... Vor has sent some of his demons to the farms outside the city. They’ve been targeting the crops, destroying the food supply. It’s bad, Your Majesty. The damage to our stores is significant."

  The words struck Kaden harder than he expected. He could almost hear the shrieks of the farmers, the smell of burning fields, the weight of hunger on the horizon. Food—that was the lifeblood of a kingdom. Without it, a city could starve. His people could starve.

  "Damn him," Kaden swore, clenching his fists.

  "We need to keep stock of our supplies," Kaden said. He wasn’t going to let his kingdom starve. Not while he was king. "We’ll have to import food from Highhaven, and from the Ratfolk if we have to.."

  "Yes, Your Grace," he said. "I will send word immediately to Highhaven and the Ratfolk."

  Felix gave a bow and turned to leave, exhaustion weighing heavily on the commander’s shoulders.

  Kaden’s gaze shot across the room, locking on Darion, who stood steadfast and silent near the wall.

  "You said to move the reserves, Darion," Kaden said. “Then this happens! Scouts report nothing from Highhaven. Nothing! We’ve got millions of citizens dead because of that! You tell me to trust this Terrance fellow and look what that has gotten us in."

  Darion met Kaden’s gaze without flinching. "I will find Terrance," Darion said. "I will find out what happened."

  “And what about Vor? Why didn’t you kill him?” Kaden said, tempers rising as he addressed the rogue.

  "I tried," Elias said. "I was winning."

  He paused, twirling his daggers idly, though his gaze never left Kaden’s. "Then the rocks started falling from nowhere. I couldn’t do anything about it. Vor escaped."

  "This is Golden City’s greatest defeat since I became king," Kaden said, more to himself than the others.

  He lifted the goblet to his lips again, taking a long swig of water. But this time, as the water slid down his throat, something wasn’t right. His breath caught in his chest, the feeling of the liquid suddenly turning to fire in his throat.

  Choking.

  His throat was tight, clogged up as his vision blurred. Kaden gasped, his hands clutching at his throat in panic, a violent cough wracking through his body.

  His skin flushed purple, boils began forming on his face. He staggered back, clutching the table for support, his breath shallow, ragged. Darion’s eyes widened and rushed forward.

  Elias, standing a few paces away, looked at the scene with an almost disinterested air. His fingers idly dipped into his water and he ran them over his tongue. A glint of recognition flashed in his eyes.

  “Level 1 poison,” Elias said, calmly pulling a small vial from his belt.

  He’d seen this before, death by poison was slow and painful. Level 1 poison wouldn’t affect him or Darion but for civilians, people lower than even Introductory, the results were fatal.

  He unstoppered the vial, passing it to Darion who knelt down to help the king.

  "No," Darion said.

  The king was dead. The antidote a second too late.

  “Who’d poison the king?” Elias asked.

  "The poison might be in the water," Darion said, his voice low but decisive. "We need to check it now.”

  Elias didn’t need to hear more. He turned sharply, moving toward the door. His steps were quick, almost too quick. Elias slipped easily through the dark, winding corridors beneath the Golden City.

  As Elias moved deeper into the bowels of the city, the golden pipes twisted, carrying water, life—maybe poison now. And somewhere ahead, Elias knew he would find who or what was responsible.

  The tunnel opened up into a larger chamber, and Elias slowed his pace. It was a large reservoir, the water of Golden City. But what caught Elias’s attention was not the water itself—it was the creatures in the ceiling, a swarm of Oculothraxs. The monsters were hovering silently, watching him.

  Elias’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to the water. The water was calm, still but Elias peered deeper.

  What he saw made him freeze in place.

  Poison Slimes.

  Dozens of them, the soft ripples around them barely noticeable. Poison Slimes were deadly to the uninitiated, their poison filling the water and making it toxic, spreading death with every drop that touched it.

  The realization came quickly for Elias. They had snuck in. While they had been distracted by the Skara drop and the chaos of the frontlines, someone had moved these creatures into the city’s water supply, poisoning it at the source.

  His usual cocky swagger, his easy-going attitude—everything had vanished in the blink of an eye. His eyes, once sharp with wit and irreverence, now held nothing.

  “What the fu—”

  Kills: 27 194 083