Xenric's body ached with exhaustion, every step forward feeling like wading through thick, suffocating darkness. The underground hideout had proven to be an unrelenting maze, each passage leading him into new dangers. Slavers, collapsed tunnels, and the distant screams of those still trapped haunted his every turn. His sword was slick with sweat and blood, his grip tight despite the numbing pain in his limbs.
Yet, he pressed on.
With every corridor conquered, the distant noise grew louder. At first, it was a faint rumble, a tremor in the walls. Then it became clearer, the clash of metal against metal, the guttural roars of warriors, the thunderous war cries that rattled the very foundations of the underground. The battle above was intensifying.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw it, a faint glow, the promise of an exit ahead. His heart pounded in anticipation as he quickened his pace, forcing his weary legs to carry him toward freedom.
The moment Xenric stepped out of the underground passage, the world around him seemed to slow.
Before him, chaos had erupted into a full-scale war. Soldiers clashed in a brutal, blood-soaked melee, the banners of Aeronberg and Blackmoor dancing violently in the smoke-filled sky. The air was thick with the acrid scent of blood and burning structures, the once-proud kingdom now reduced to a battlefield of shattered stone and fallen warriors.
And at the heart of it all, two titans collided.
King Arren Vareon and Warlord Kargrosh were locked in a fierce duel, their every move sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The king, his silver armor gleaming despite the filth of war, wielded his blade with calculated precision, parrying and striking with the discipline of a seasoned ruler. Kargrosh, on the other hand, was a beast, unleashed his enormous axe cleaving through the air with terrifying force, his war cries shaking the ground beneath them.
Xenric's eyes darted beyond them, scanning the battlefield with urgency. And then, his breath hitched.
On the other side of the battle field, standing amidst the chaos, was Darion.
Their eyes met across the warring armies, an unspoken realization passing between them. The battlefield was a storm, a relentless tide of steel and blood, and in the very center of it stood the two greatest warriors of this war, separating them.
For a moment, Xenric could do nothing but stare. The world around him was a blur, but the sight of Darion alive, standing, fighting, was crystal clear.
The war raged on, but for Xenric, only one thought echoed in his mind.
He had to reach him. Both of them need to escape.
Xenric ducked behind a crumbling wall, his breaths shallow as the clanking of armored boots stormed past. The battlefield was a nightmare of flashing steel, burning wreckage, and dying screams. Warlord Kargrosh's soldiers swept through the streets like a relentless tide, cutting down anyone in their path. Xenric had already taken down three of them, but the more he fought, the harder it became to move undetected.
Across the battlefield, Darion moved in the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. He pressed his back against a scorched stone pillar, watching as more of Kargrosh's warriors passed. Unlike Xenric, he prioritized evasion, carefully slipping through alleys and destroyed buildings to close the distance. Every few steps, he would glance in Xenric's direction, making sure his friend was still moving. The kingdom was collapsing around them, yet the only thing that mattered was reuniting.
Reaching each other was a grueling task. Every street was filled with soldiers, every escape route blocked by destruction. At one point, Darion had to crawl through a pile of rubble, his limbs scraping against broken wood and shattered stone. Xenric, on the other hand, had to fight off a pair of orcish warriors, their axes narrowly missing his head as he barely managed to slip away.
Just as they were within reach of each other, a patrol of heavily armed soldiers passed between them. Xenric pressed himself against the ruins of a collapsed house, while Darion held his breath behind the remains of a shattered wagon. It felt like an eternity before the soldiers moved on, allowing them to make one last desperate dash toward each other.
When their eyes met, it was as if the entire battlefield disappeared. No words were exchanged, there was no time for relief. Only action.
Together, they began their escape, weaving through the ruined kingdom with precision. Their goal was to reach the outer walls, to slip away before the war consumed everything. But before they could take another step, a deafening crash shattered the air.
General Morgan's body flew across the battlefield like a ragdoll and slammed into a stone wall. The impact was so violent that cracks spiderwebbed through the structure before the entire section collapsed. Xenric and Darion froze, staring at the broken mass of metal and blood that was the once-mighty general.
Xenric clenched his jaw. He knew they had to keep moving, but something inside him wouldn't let him walk away.
"He's still alive," Xenric said, stepping forward.
Darion grabbed his arm. "Xenric, we can't-"
"I won't leave him!" Xenric snapped.
Darion hesitated. The battlefield was unforgiving, and helping someone in Morgan's condition would only slow them down. But as he looked at the barely breathing general, his resolve hardened.
"Damn it!" Darion muttered. "Fine."
They rushed to Morgan's side. His armor was shattered, deep gashes running across his chest, his breathing ragged and weak. Blood pooled beneath him, but his fingers still twitched against the hilt of his sword.
"Can you move?" Xenric asked urgently.
Morgan's lips barely parted, a pained grunt escaping before his body slumped. He was too weak to stand on his own. Without wasting another second, Xenric and Darion hoisted him up, each taking one of his arms over their shoulders.
"This is going to slow us down," Darion muttered as they struggled under the weight.
"We don't have a choice," Xenric replied.
With their escape now more dangerous than ever, they pressed forward, carrying the wounded general through the burning kingdom, knowing that every second wasted brought them closer to death.