As the great battle raged on, countless small villages were reduced to ash. Men, women, and children alike were slaughtered, their screams swallowed by the thunder of marching armies. Yet even this horror was only the beginning.

  Haul fought beside Eamon, cutting down soldier after soldier. Their bodies screamed in protest, every swing of the blade growing heavier than the last. Pain burned through their muscles, but still they fought on.

  Haul glanced across the field and spotted Master Edward carving through enemy ranks alone, his blade rising and falling without pause.

  With his age… that should be impossible, Haul thought.

  An enemy soldier rushed him from the left. Haul turned and, with a near-heavenly swing, took the man’s head clean from his shoulders. Sliding back, Haul raised his blade before his face.

  “If we are destined to win,” he muttered, “then I must use this power to its fullest—to go beyond its limits.”

  Haul launched forward at impossible speed. The ground cracked beneath him, the shockwave throwing nearby soldiers flat on their backs. In a single, flawless motion of his blade, he cut down thirty men. When it was over, Haul stood alone, chest heaving as he struggled for breath.

  Above the hill stood twelve captains and six generals, watching in stunned silence as Haul slaughtered their men.

  The Captain of House Cinder of the island of Khul spat in disgust.“How can the gods bless a man like him? A filthy commoner with no royal blood—it makes me sick.”

  He raised his voice. “Make way. I will end this.”

  Turning to his general, he commanded, “Kill that white-haired boy in gold armor.”

  The general nodded and spurred his horse toward Eamon.

  The captain laughed and addressed the others. “Watch closely. House Cinder will end this battle swiftly—if you can even call it a battle.”

  The other captains and generals laughed as the captain rode down the hill, cutting through Haul’s men as he descended.

  Haul saw him coming. He also saw the general racing toward Eamon.

  Don’t die, Eamon.

  The captain reined in his horse before Haul, looking down at him with open contempt.

  “Tell me, commoner-made king—what do the gods see in filth like you?”

  Haul met his gaze calmly. “Does it matter? What purpose would it serve to tell you, if I die here regardless?”

  The captain sneered. “Perhaps not. Either way, I’ll cleanse this world of filth playing at royalty.”

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  He dismounted and unsheathed his sword. Haul did the same.

  They stood seven feet apart, boots slick with blood as steel rang around them. Then the captain charged.

  Haul met him head-on. Their blades clashed violently. The captain tried to sweep Haul’s legs, but Haul twisted, turning his blade and nicking the man’s face. Blood spilled.

  The captain touched his cheek, looked at the blood, and snarled before charging again.

  Haul blocked every strike. Then he dashed forward, sword extended. The captain raised his guard——but at the last moment, Haul released his grip, caught the blade with his left hand, and drove it deep into the captain’s gut.

  The captain froze, stunned.

  “You fight dirty,” he gasped. “But I expect nothing less from a commoner born of pig shit—forgotten by dawn.”

  Haul leaned closer. “Then you must be lower than a commoner,” he said coldly, “since you lost to one.”

  The captain choked as Haul ripped the blade free and, in one swift motion, removed his head.

  The general thundered down the hill toward Eamon. Eamon cut through enemies until his eyes locked onto the charging rider. He pointed his sword forward and smiled.

  charged toward the general slicing through the enemy in his wake.

  Eamon spotted one of his own and cried

  “Soldier!” Eamon shouted. “Raise your shield!”

  The soldier obeyed. Eamon sprinted, leapt onto the shield, and was launched into the air. His eyes fixed on the general.

  He aimed straight for the man’s back.

  The general reacted instantly, crouching low as his horse carried him forward. At the last moment, he leapt from the saddle, meeting Eamon midair.

  Steel clashed in the sky.

  They crashed to the ground, Eamon landing atop him before rolling free. Eamon sprang to his feet, blade raised defensively, watching as the general rose with a grin.

  “You’re something else, boy.”

  Eamon’s eyes locked onto him like a predator. “It’s Eamon. Not boy.”

  The general scoffed. “Does it matter? No one will remember you.”

  Eamon attacked instantly. The general blocked, retreating under the relentless assault. Eamon flipped over him, searching for an opening—but the general turned and struck as Eamon landed.

  Eamon twisted away, rolled back, then rose, pointing his sword at the man with a grin.

  “You’re skilled,” Eamon said. “Good. I’d hate for this to end too soon.”

  He vanished in a blur.

  The general’s eyes widened. “His speed… it’s inhuman—”

  A breeze brushed his neck.

  He turned—and saw Eamon beside him, smiling, eyes burning with murderous intent.

  The general tried to step back but couldn’t.

  Eamon leaned close and whispered, “I guess not.”

  Darkness took the man.

  Eamon looked across the field and saw Haul standing over the fallen captain.

  Such skill, my lord, he thought. I wish to learn a move like that.

  Master Edward passed by, blade dripping.

  “Taking a break from the battle, are we?” Edward asked dryly.

  Eamon shook his head. “No, Master Edward.”

  Edward smiled. “Then care to join me in killing those pompous bastards on the hill?”

  Eamon returned the smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Haul lifted his gaze toward the hill——but a young messenger ran toward him.

  “My lord!”

  Haul turned. “What are you doing here, boy?”

  The messenger handed him a note. Haul opened it.

  It was from Theodore.

  Ships have surrounded the castle.

  Haul folded the message and looked at the boy. “Understood. Hurry back. I’ll be there soon.”

  He mounted a nearby horse, turned it toward the kingdom, and rode hard—leaving the battlefield behind as the war only deepened.