The air smelled of blood and ash. Kael Draven stood atop the crumbling remains of a once-mighty fortress, his broad shoulders silhouetted against a blood-red sky. Beneath him, the remnants of the warband lay scattered like broken toys.
"Another ambush," he muttered, wiping the edge of his massive steel blade clean on a fallen soldier's cloak. "How many more of these before they give up?"
He flexed his hands, feeling the lingering warmth of his own power coursing through his veins. His strength had always been his curse—his blessing too, though he wasn't so sure anymore.
A low rumble echoed through the valley below, drawing his attention. He crouched low, his sharp gray eyes scanning the horizon. In the distance, dust clouds rose as a convoy of armored vehicles crawled toward the ruins.
"Mercs," Kael growled. His grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. These weren't the usual ragtag raiders sent to test him. The vehicles gleamed with polished steel, and the insignia on their flags was unmistakable: the Iron Order.
They'd found him again.
With a sigh, Kael leaped from the ledge, landing effortlessly on the cracked stone below. The ground trembled under his weight, but he barely noticed. His footsteps were deliberate as he made his way toward the convoy, his blade resting against his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all.
As the convoy stopped, a squad of armored soldiers dismounted, forming a line. Each one bore a high-tech exosuit that made ordinary men look like giants. Kael smirked.
"You've got some fancy toys," he said, his voice carrying easily across the battlefield. "But you should've brought more men."
The squad leader, a grizzled veteran with a cybernetic eye, stepped forward. "Kael Draven, you're coming with us. Dead or alive, doesn't matter much to me."
Kael cracked his neck, his towering frame seeming to grow even larger. "You'll have to try real hard, then."
Without warning, the soldiers opened fire, their weapons spitting a hail of bullets. Kael moved like a force of nature. He dashed forward, his blade sweeping through the air in a blur. Bullets pinged off his skin, barely leaving a mark. He was upon them in seconds, tearing through the exosuits as if they were made of paper.
The battlefield became chaos—smoke, screams, and sparks filled the air. Kael was a whirlwind of destruction, every swing of his blade shattering armor and scattering his enemies like leaves in a storm.
Within minutes, it was over. Kael stood amidst the wreckage, his breathing steady despite the carnage around him. He knelt to inspect the squad leader's body, pulling a small device from the man's belt. A holographic map flickered to life, revealing a marked location deep in the mountains.
"Finally," Kael murmured.
This wasn't just another ambush. The Iron Order was after something—a secret buried in the mountains that Kael had long sought.
His journey was far from over. And if the Iron Order wanted him to stop, they'd need an army a hundred times bigger than this.
With the map in hand, Kael turned toward the horizon, where the peaks of the Azure Mountains loomed like jagged teeth. His next battle awaited, and for the first time in years, he felt a spark of hope.