The battlefield had changed. A moment ago, Ashen had been on the verge of collapse. The villagers had been fighting with dull, rusted weapons against an army of trained killers. The barricades had nearly fallen. The enemy had been moments away from breaking through.
But now—
Now, Ethan stood among them, gripping a sword that gleamed unnaturally bright in Avalon's sunlight. The weight of the Earth-made steel felt perfect in his hand, like it had been waiting for him all along.
Across the battlefield, Lyra, Joren, and the rest of Ashen's warriors clutched the weapons Ethan had brought. Real swords. Real armor. Real bows.
And for the first time since the battle began, they had the advantage.
Ethan exhaled, gripping his sword tightly.
"Time to turn the tide."
The enemy hesitated, confused by the sudden shift. The ragtag villagers they had been cutting down with ease now stood armed with unfamiliar, deadly weapons.
Ethan didn't give them time to react.
He charged.
Steel met steel with a ringing clash as he parried the first soldier's blow, his new sword slicing through the enemy's armor with ease. The weight and balance were perfect, nothing like the crude, chipped blades the villagers had used before.
The soldier barely had time to scream before Ethan drove his blade through his chest.
Joren followed close behind, an Earth-made battle-axe in his hands. With a single swing, he cleaved a soldier's helmet in half.
Lyra, perched on a rooftop, pulled back the string of her new composite bow. The moment she released, the arrow shot through the air faster than any Avalon-crafted arrow ever could. It buried itself deep into the skull of an enemy commander.
Panic spread through Varkos's army.
"What are these weapons?!"
"They're cutting through our armor like paper!"
"They're demons!"
Ethan grinned grimly. No, we're just better armed than you now.
With newfound confidence, the villagers fought back, pushing the enemy away from the barricades.
For every step Varkos's army took forward, Ashen's warriors took two steps back.
The battle was shifting.
But Ethan knew it wasn't over yet.
A sudden, powerful BOOM shook the battlefield.
The fighting paused for just a moment as the dust settled. Then—
A figure strode through the chaos.
Clad in dark steel armor, his crimson cape billowing behind him, Lord Varkos himself entered the battlefield.
His face was set in a cold, unreadable expression. In his hands, he carried a massive two-handed sword, its jagged edge gleaming with an eerie black light.
The battlefield went still. Even the villagers stopped fighting.
Ethan felt his blood run cold. He had expected a commander to stay behind the safety of his keep. But Varkos was here—and he wasn't afraid.
"I grow tired of this game," Varkos said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the battlefield. His crimson eyes locked onto Ethan.
"You. You're the one who brought these cursed weapons into my land."
Ethan didn't answer. He just raised his sword.
Varkos smirked. "Good. Then I'll enjoy killing you first."
And then, he moved.
Varkos was fast. Too fast.
One second, he had been standing twenty feet away. The next—he was in front of Ethan.
Ethan barely managed to raise his sword before CLANG—
The impact of Varkos's attack nearly knocked the weapon from Ethan's hands. His arms screamed in pain as he stumbled backward, barely managing to stay on his feet.
Varkos wasn't human.
His strength was monstrous. His speed, inhuman. His movements were effortless, each swing of his sword carrying the force of a war hammer.
Ethan gritted his teeth. He had come too far to die now.
Varkos lunged again, his blackened blade arcing toward Ethan's head. Ethan ducked, rolling to the side just in time.
Think, damn it!
If he tried to match Varkos in raw power, he'd lose.
He had to be smarter.
Varkos swung again, but this time, Ethan dodged with precision, weaving between the strikes instead of blocking them.
Speed over strength.
He slashed at Varkos's exposed side—but the warlord twisted at the last second, catching Ethan's blade against his armored gauntlet.
"Not bad," Varkos said. "But not good enough."
With a roar, he kicked Ethan in the chest, sending him flying backward.
Ethan crashed into the dirt, gasping for air. His vision swam. He could barely hold onto his sword.
He needed a new plan. Fast.
Varkos approached slowly, his sword resting over one shoulder.
"You fought well," he said. "But it ends here."
Ethan struggled to stand, his muscles burning.
Then he felt it.
A tug in his mind.
The same feeling from before.
The ability to travel between worlds.
His pulse quickened.
If he could bring weapons from Earth to Avalon—
Could he bring something else?
He clenched his fists. It's worth a shot.
As Varkos raised his sword for the final strike, Ethan closed his eyes.
He thought of Earth.
He thought of guns.
And then—
The world shifted.
When Ethan opened his eyes, he wasn't in Ashen anymore.
He was inside a sporting goods store.
Customers gawked at him—bloodied, bruised, his clothes torn from battle. He ignored them.
He sprinted toward the hunting section, grabbing the first gun he saw—a pump-action shotgun.
He loaded shells into it, his hands shaking.
I don't know if this will work.
He gritted his teeth.
But if it does—
He thought of Varkos.
The battlefield.
The moment before death.
And just like that—
The world shifted again.
Ethan reappeared just as Varkos's sword came down.
BOOM!!!
The warlord staggered back, blood spraying from his shoulder. His expression twisted in shock.
Ethan stood before him, the shotgun still smoking in his hands.
For the first time, Varkos looked afraid.
Ethan racked the shotgun, the next shell sliding into place.
"This is for Ashen."
BOOM!!!
The second blast hit Varkos in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
The warlord coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. His crimson eyes, once so full of arrogance, now burned with something else.
Rage.
"You… are not from this world," he rasped.
Ethan stepped closer, aiming the shotgun at Varkos's head.
"No," he said. "I'm not."
BOOM!!!
And just like that—
The warlord of Blackthorn Keep was dead.
The moment Varkos fell, his army broke.
The soldiers, leaderless and terrified, fled into the hills.
Ashen had won.
The villagers erupted into cheers, some collapsing in relief, others embracing each other.
Lyra approached Ethan, her gaze flicking between him and the strange weapon in his hands.
"You're going to have to explain that later," she muttered.
Ethan exhaled, lowering the shotgun.
"Yeah," he said. "I probably will."
For now, though—
Ashen was safe.
And Ethan was just getting started.