Rayland stood atop the western wall of the battered city, his heart pounding in disbelief at what he was witnessing. Mere moments earlier, he and his soldiers had prepared for a brutal, bloody confrontation against a massive demon horde. Their plan involved archers, mages, and every last ounce of will they could muster just to hold off the onslaught, perhaps buying enough time for the most vulnerable—children, elders, and the sick—to flee deeper into the city's half-collapsed buildings.
Yet, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed.
A lone figure, a young man with white hair and an almost casual demeanor descended from the sky like a bolt of lightning. Before any of Rayland's soldiers could release a single arrow or cast even the weakest spell, this stranger had charged straight into the demon horde, dispatching them in droves with nothing but his fists.
