Leonard stormed out of the Guild without another word, his cloak billowing behind him. The crimson sky above the citadel burned in his mind like an open wound, even as it gradually faded back to blue. Blood wards—powerful and unstable—were not just a defensive measure; they were a statement of desperation and a threat at the same time. If they detonated, they would take the entire city with them.

  His commanders, who had been waiting in the courtyard below, snapped to attention as he emerged. Without pausing, Leonard addressed them. “Gather all the men. We need to move now.”

  The urgency in his tone left no room for argument. Messengers dashed in every direction, and the gathered soldiers formed ranks once more. One of his captains rushed to Leonard’s side.

  “Does this change our plans, General?” He asked, gesturing toward the general direction of the citadel.

  Leonard paused, staring intensely ahead. “It accelerates them. Human lives fuel blood wards. Sacrifices must be made to sustain their strength. Despite that, the resulting backlash could devastate the city if we force our way through. We can’t afford to shatter them carelessly.”

  The captain paled. “What’s the plan?”

  Leonard talked as he began walking toward his horse. “We must take control of the outer city immediately. The barracks and bases are our priority. If we can secure all the command centers, we’ll be able to fully encircle them. The more options we have, the better it is if we need to mount a strike.”

  The captain saluted and dashed off to relay the orders. Leonard mounted his horse, furiously going over their options. The city streets felt suffocating as they marched, but as he extended his senses, he realized that not all was lost. The blood wards were powerful, to be sure, but the initial sacrifice hadn’t been as extensive as it could have been. Pollus likely intended to send a message that he couldn’t be cornered without consequences rather than completely overturn the chessboard. Still, they needed to hasten their progress quickly.

  The march toward the central military base in the outer city progressed much faster than their initial one. Apparently having realized the invading army was no longer fooling around, the civilians had cleared the streets. Most had barricaded themselves inside, too frightened to watch the unfolding conflict. The scattered resistance they had encountered earlier seemed to have dissipated, leaving the streets disturbingly empty.

  The barracks loomed ahead—a grand marble building with ornate columns and intricate carvings that seemed more fitting for a noble’s estate than a military stronghold. Leonard sneered at the sight. It was a monument to excess, in contrast to the disciplined austerity of his own forces.

  “They’re holed up inside,” the captain reported as Leonard dismounted. "There’s been no response to our calls for surrender. From the looks of it, they’re dug in deep.”

  Leonard approached the gates, surveying the scene. He could see the glint of rifles in the upper windows and the faint shimmer of defensive spells along the building’s fa?ade. His men were already taking positions, shields raised against possible fire.

  “Idiots,” Leonard muttered under his breath. He turned to the captain. “Give them one last chance.”

  The captain nodded and raised a horn to his lips, producing a single, sharp note. The sound echoed through the square, yet no response came from the barracks. Moments later, a volley of gunfire erupted from the windows, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the front-line shield spells.

  Leonard’s jaw tightened. “Enough of this.”

  He stepped forward, unbuckling his cloak and letting it fall to the ground. The air around him seemed to shift, growing warmer and brighter. A golden light began to emanate from his armor, a radiant glow that washed over his men and silenced the enemy fire.

  He stepped beyond the shields’ protection.

  “Grand Marshal, wait!” one of the younger soldiers called, but Leonard raised a hand to silence him.

  The first barrage of bullets struck Leonard’s glowing form—and disintegrated upon contact. The light surrounding him intensified, forming a halo of divine energy that defied mortal weapons. With deliberate steps, he advanced toward the gates, disregarding the renewed gunfire and the occasional spell hurled from above.

  Behind him, his men watched in awe. The sight of their leader, unwavering in the face of enemy fire, filled them with a fervor that words alone could not inspire. The air around them thrummed with the same radiant energy that enveloped Leonard, emboldening their steps and steadying their hands.

  By the time Leonard reached the gates, the defenders inside had stopped firing, their courage faltering. He placed a single, gauntleted hand against the massive iron doors. The golden light around him surged, flowing into the metal.

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  “Stand back,” he commanded.

  His men obeyed, retreating to a safe distance as Leonard’s holy energy concentrated on the gates. With a deafening crack, the iron buckled and shattered, sending shards scattering harmlessly in all directions. A rush of golden light filled the entrance hall, blinding the defenders inside.

  “Forward!” Leonard bellowed, raising his sword and stepping into the breach.

  His soldiers surged after him, their war cries echoing through the marble halls. The defenders, blinded and disoriented, were quickly overwhelmed. Leonard’s blade danced through the chaos, taking heads with each swing. The radiance around him prevented any enemy from ganging up on him, forcing them to retreat further into the building.

  The battle of the barracks began chaotically and continued to evolve in that direction. The defenders, cornered and desperate, fought recklessly as their cries echoed through the grand marble halls. Some wielded steel while others cast spells, but none posed a genuine threat. Leonard mowed through them like a scythe through wheat, not allowing any mortal to halt his advance.

  Then, the Void-touched weapons appeared, and the trap was revealed.

  It began with a faint, unnatural chill in the air, followed by an acrid, metallic scent that turned Leonard’s stomach. A soldier stepped forward, swinging a blade wreathed in an inky darkness that seemed to devour the light around it. Leonard recognized the taint instantly. He had spent years fighting it, dedicated his new life to it.

  The Void.

  For a heartbeat, the memory of Belinda’s assassination flashed before his eyes. The poison that had ended her life had borne the same vile energy. His fury ignited, searing away the momentary paralysis.

  “You dare bring that filth before me?” He growled, low and dangerous, even as dozens more enemies spilled into the hall, bearing the accursed weapons. His light flared, chasing the shadows back to the corners of the hall. Dyeus howled within his mind, eager to hunt the primordial emptiness once more.

  The man wielding the Void-tainted blade lunged at him, a guttural scream escaping his lips. Leonard responded with a single, measured swing of his sword, meeting his challenge. The clash sent a shockwave through the hall as the divine energy of Dyeus collided with the Void.

  There was no contest. The Light overwhelmed the darkness, vaporizing the blade—and the man holding it—in an instant. A crescent wave followed his swing, carving through the building’s wall and vanishing into the sky.

  The battle froze around him. Soldiers on both sides paused, watching in stunned silence as the man dissipated into nothingness. Leonard turned slowly, his eyes blazing with righteous anger.

  “You think this will save you?” he called out, his voice booming through the hall. “You think the Void will save your lives? It will devour you as it devours all. You have chosen death.”

  Some of the defenders hesitated, understanding the sentence for what it was. Others, driven by fanaticism or fear, raised their corrupted weapons and charged. Leonard met them head-on, feeling his blood boil.

  Each strike of his blade was an act of purification. The Void-tainted weapons disintegrated under his touch, their wielders consumed by the Light’s fury. As more of the kingdom's depravity was cleansed, the atmosphere became choked with the scent of burning corruption. Leonard moved with relentless efficiency, using his anger to fuel his movements.

  It took only minutes for the tide to shift. Those who had dared to wield the Void against him lay as ashes upon the marble floor. The remaining defenders—those still clinging to untainted steel or those who had nothing left to fight with—crumbled as they finally understood that resistance was futile. Some dropped their weapons and surrendered at once, pale with terror. Others tried to flee, but Leonard’s soldiers waited outside, and he allowed them to have their own moment of glory, slowly walking outside to keep an eye on things.

  The men exhibited a perfect example of grim efficiency. Soldiers stood in tight ranks, rounding up those who fled and cutting down anyone who resisted. The few who surrendered were dragged back into the barracks, where they were forced to kneel under the watchful eyes of Leonard’s men.

  Feeling that everything was under control, he stepped back inside as his fury began to fade. The golden aura surrounding him dimmed, retreating beneath his armor as he exhaled slowly. He surveyed the devastation around him—the charred furniture, the gouge in the wall, and the pile of ash where the Void-touched had tried to ambush him.

  Pollus planned this, he thought grimly. He wanted to throw me off. To remind me of Belinda, of what I lost. And the bastard almost managed to make me lose control. I have to stop underestimating him. He’s made it clear there is nothing he’ll not do to keep us from taking the city.

  For a moment, grief threatened to rise, but Leonard pushed it back. Now was not the time. He turned to his captain, who was directing soldiers to secure the prisoners.

  “Ensure the wounded are tended to and the prisoners are interrogated,” Leonard said. “I want to know everything they know about the citadel’s defenses.”

  “Yes, sir,” the captain replied, saluting sharply.

  Leonard was about to leave the hall when a young soldier approached him. His face flushed from exertion, he saluted awkwardly, clearly nervous in front of the highest authority in the Revolution.

  “Grand Marshal,” he stuttered. “There’s a man from the main camp here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

  Leonard arched his brow, extending his senses outward. A familiar presence was nearby, with a crackling energy as unmistakable as the man himself. A faint smile touched his lips.

  “Let him in.”

  The soldier saluted once more and hurried to the door. Moments later, a figure strode into the hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. Gareth was a sight to behold. A new armor gleamed with faint arcs of electricity dancing across its surface, while his spear—crafted from ancient, storm-touched wood—rested casually against his shoulder.

  “Leonard,” Gareth said, “I am back.”

  Leonard inclined his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “So you are, my friend. Have you just returned from the East?”

  “I have fulfilled my duty. Volten is a free city, governed by an honorable council. With me are the warriors who joined our cause, along with a substantial portion of the eastern infantry. Four thousand men have arrived at the main camp, and Captain Longs is currently putting them to good use,” Gareth replied.

  Deep shadows lingered beneath his eyes. The campaign had clearly taken a toll on him, but Leonard sensed a fire burning within his friend. Something about him had changed, yet he couldn’t quite identify what it was.

  “That’s good news. We’ll need all the men we can get to fortify Hetnia,” he replied, tilting his head in curiosity. “But you wouldn’t have rushed into the city without a good reason. What is it?”

  Gareth grinned widely, showing his teeth. “I saw the blood wards go up. I brought you a group of orc shamans.”

  Leonard stood in silence for a moment. He hadn’t thought of using the orcs in that way, but of course, their shamans could communicate with spirits. Who else would know how to bypass protections created with them?

  “That is very welcome news, my friend. Very welcome indeed.”

  And a plan solidified in his mind.