The cold air reeked of sweat, blood, and smoldering wood. Orion wiped a streak of dirt from his cheek as he scanned the battlefield. The River Kingdom had fallen, but it wasn't enough.
Securing one more castle wouldn't seal their victory.
That meant only one thing.
He needed both.
He turned to his commanders—Juno, Isolde, Felix, and Darius. They were battered, bruised, streaked with dirt and blood, but their eyes still burned with fire.
"The Mountain Kingdom and the Plains Kingdom," Orion said, his voice calm but firm. "We take them both."
Juno scoffed, cracking her knuckles. "You sure about that? We're barely holding together as it is."
"We don't have a choice," Orion replied. "If we take just one, someone else might snatch first place. We split up. Juno, you will lead the attack on the Mountain Kingdom. I'll take the Plains Kingdom."
Felix let out a slow breath. "So we're spreading ourselves thin?"
"We don't need to hold them long," Orion said, brushing his fingers over his chin in thought. "Just keep the Mountain Kingdom busy long enough for me to take the Plains Kingdom. Their walls are too strong for a fast assault, so you don't attack—just lock them down."
Silence stretched between them. Then Juno's slow, wolfish grin broke the tension.
"I see."
She wasted no time. As night fell, she and her forces moved through the freezing mist, barely visible against the darkened terrain. The Mountain Kingdom's fortress loomed above them, a beast of stone and iron. They relied too much on their defenses, trusting their high walls to keep them safe.
Juno had other plans.
With a sharp hand signal, her team sprang into action. They weren't here for a siege—they were here to create chaos.
Flaming debris rained down from the cliffs, crashing into the Mountain Kingdom's supply lines. Explosions ripped through their barricades, sending men scattering. The defenders scrambled in confusion as the night came alive with fire and screams.
Juno and her squad struck from the shadows, cutting through disoriented warriors like a scythe through wheat. They never pushed too deep, never committed to a full assault. They just kept hitting, retreating, and striking again.
All they needed was time.
Meanwhile, Orion led his riders straight into the heart of the Plains Kingdom's cavalry. The Plains warriors prided themselves on mobility, on sweeping through the battlefield like the wind.
Orion didn't give them the chance.
His riders smashed into their ranks like a hammer, lances splintering, armor cracking under the force of impact. Warhorses screamed, men fell, and the ground was soaked with blood. Orion's sword cut through flesh and steel alike as he drove forward, unrelenting.
He had one target—the castle.
The defenders tried to regroup, but Orion never let them breathe. His forces pressed on, overwhelming them before they could reform their lines.
The Plains King, realizing the battle was lost, turned his horse to flee.
Orion saw it.
With a fierce kick, he drove his own mount forward, tearing through the chaos with single-minded focus. The king's horse pounded across the bloodied field, hooves kicking up mud and corpses.
But Orion was faster.
He reached out, grabbed the king by his armor, and yanked him from the saddle. The man hit the ground hard, coughing up blood, his wide eyes full of terror.
Orion didn't hesitate.
He ran his sword straight through the king's chest.
The man gasped once. Then, he was still.
Silence settled over the battlefield. The Plains Kingdom's forces, seeing their leader fall, broke. Some ran. Some surrendered. It didn't matter.
The castle was his.
He turned toward the horizon. The Mountain Kingdom's fires still burned in the distance.
Juno had done her part.
Orion didn't waste time. He signaled his forces to regroup, leaving a skeleton crew behind to secure the Plains Kingdom's castle. The rest rode hard toward the Mountain Kingdom.
The night air was thick with the scent of burnt wood and blood. As Orion's forces approached, the battlefield became clearer—Juno had done her job well. Smoke curled from broken siege weapons, and the defenders still inside the fortress were too occupied with her feints to notice the tide turning against them.
Juno met him at the edge of the battlefield, wiping blood from her jaw. "Took you long enough."
Orion slid from his horse, scanning the battlefield. "How many?"
"Seventeen." Juno said, rolling her shoulders. "We kept them boxed in for 16 hours now, they're on their last legs."
That was when Orion saw him.
At first, he thought it was the Mountain King himself. The way the man moved—fluid, precise, a perfect balance between defense and offense, his strikes were surgical, his footwork flawless.
Yet something was off. The Mountain King wasn't supposed to fight like this.
Orion's grip tightened on his sword as he watched the man move. Every strike, every pivot, every counterattack was controlled, like he was playing a game no one else understood. The Mountain Kingdom's warriors were fighting desperately around him, yet he remained untouched, his blade flickering through the air like a whisper.
And then Orion saw why he wasn't on the rankings.
His body was frail.
His armor hung loosely around his frame, his shoulders slightly hunched, and his wrists too thin for a warrior of such skill. He didn't have the sheer presence of the ranked warriors Orion had fought before.
Orion's instincts screamed. This man was dangerous.
Orion moved before he could think. He pushed through the battlefield, cutting down anyone who got too close. His soldiers noticed his shift in focus and started pressing forward with renewed aggression, cutting a path foward.
The man must have noticed Orion approaching, because he turned slightly, his movements slowing just enough for their eyes to meet.
For a split second, Orion felt it—an unspoken challenge.
The man's lips curled upward, just slightly.
Orion surged forward, but the battlefield swallowed the man whole.
Orion barked, his heart pounding. "Who is he?"
Juno's gaze snapped toward him, brows furrowed. "Who?"
But Orion couldn't answer. The person was dead.
And for the first time since the battle began, Orion felt something he hadn't expected.
Curiosity.
Orion stood over the fallen king, blood still pooling beneath the corpse. The battlefield had quieted, save for the distant cries of scattered survivors. He reached down, gripping the king's hair, and with a single swift motion, his blade sliced clean through the neck. The severed head tumbled into his waiting hand, its lifeless eyes frozen in shock.
He raised it high.
"The Mountain Kingdom has fallen!" Orion's voice thundered across the field. His soldiers erupted in cheers, weapons clashing against shields in victory. The enemy's morale shattered completely—some dropped their weapons and fled, others fell to their knees in surrender.
Orion turned without another word.
Without hesitation, he strode toward the castle gates, his forces following in his wake. The defenders inside hesitated, their resolve crumbling. Orion didn't slow—he kicked open the weakened doors and stormed inside.
"Cut down anyone who resists."
Steel clashed, screams rang out, and Orion pressed forward. The last obstacle between him and complete victory was falling, brick by brick, beneath his blade.