The cave felt smaller, the walls closing in as the soldiers moved toward Kael and Kerric. The air was thick with tension, the kind that pressed against Kael's chest and quickened his pulse. He stood, sword in hand, ready for the inevitable. Silas, still in the back, didn't bother giving orders. He didn't need to. His soldiers knew exactly what to do.
There was no fear, no urgency in his movements. He was in complete control. Kael knew that, and it made his blood boil.
The soldiers stepped forward, weapons drawn. Kael's heart pounded as he glanced at Kerric. The older mercenary stood tense, his face pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Kael saw the struggle, in Kerric's gaze. But there was no time to think about that now.
The first soldier lunged.
Kael barely had time to raise his sword before the blade clanged against his own, the force rattling his already aching body. He gritted his teeth and shoved back, his muscles straining from the effort. His chest burned where the traps had torn into him, but he ignored the pain. There was no room for weakness now.
Another soldier swung at him from the left. Kael ducked low, the blade whistling over his head, and lashed out with his sword, cutting into the soldier's leg. A sharp cry rang out, but the soldier didn't fall. He staggered, his leg bleeding, but still strong enough to press forward.
Kael stepped back, the taste of blood in his mouth, his body screaming with every movement. But the soldiers weren't giving him any room to breathe. Another one came at him, this time faster, more aggressive. Kael blocked the first strike, but the second slipped through, a shallow cut tearing across his arm.
Kael's vision blurred for a moment, the pain dulling his senses. He blinked hard, his breath ragged, as he fought to stay upright. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, and he pushed through the agony, swinging wildly at the soldier in front of him.
The strike connected, the blade sinking into the man's side. The soldier grunted, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the ground. But there was no time to celebrate the small victory. Another soldier was already closing in, his sword raised high.
Kael braced himself, his heart hammering in his chest. His body moved on instinct now, ducking, dodging, parrying. But every movement cost him. His leg throbbed, the open wound making it harder to stay on his feet. His chest felt like it was on fire.
The soldiers were relentless. Each one seemed more skilled, more vicious than the last. And all the while, Silas stood in the back, smiling. Watching.
Kael's arms ached from the constant blows, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping up with the relentless assault. The ground beneath him was slick with blood, his and theirs. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was surviving.
Kael glanced toward Kerric, who stood a few feet away, his sword raised defensively. But Kerric wasn't moving. He wasn't fighting. His eyes were locked on Silas, the internal battle raging within him visible in every twitch of his face.
"Kerric!" Kael shouted, his voice raw with frustration.
Kerric didn't respond. He was frozen, caught between the loyalty he had known for so long and the reality of what Silas was about to do. Kael couldn't afford to wait for him to make up his mind.
A soldier lunged at Kael again, and this time Kael barely blocked the strike, the force of it driving him to his knees. His sword scraped against the ground, his hands trembling as he struggled to push the soldier back.
The soldier's blade came down, and Kael twisted just in time, the blade grazing his side but not enough to kill. He gritted his teeth and shoved upward, knocking the soldier off balance and slashing upward with all his strength.
Blood sprayed across the cave floor as the soldier fell, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.
Kael's vision swam, the pain and exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. His body screamed for rest, but there was no stopping now. The soldiers kept coming, their attacks ruthless, their faces blank of emotion. To them, this was nothing more than another mission, another obstacle to remove.
Kael's movements grew more desperate, more savage with each passing second. His sword cut through the air, leaving trails of blood and broken steel in its wake. He swung with everything he had left, not caring where his blade landed, just that it hit something.
Another soldier went down, then another. But Kael's body was failing him. His leg gave out, and he collapsed to one knee, panting, his chest heaving with the effort.
Kael's vision darkened at the edges as he looked up, barely able to see through the blood and sweat dripping into his eyes. The remaining soldiers circled him like vultures, their weapons glinting in the dim light of the cave.
Kael's hands shook as he tightened his grip on his sword. He wasn't sure if he could keep fighting, but he knew one thing: he wasn't going to let them take the relic without a fight.
The cave echoed with the sound of steel on steel, the grunts of pain, the stench of blood. And as Kael prepared for the next wave, his vision began to blur, the pain nearly unbearable.
But he wasn't dead yet.