The night was alive with the sound of steel.
Ezra stood at the front of Blackthorne's war camp, gazing at the sea of warriors gathered before him.
Thousands of battle-hardened men, all trained in the ways of war, now knelt at his command.
Behind them, banners flapped in the wind, each bearing the sigil of a tribe, a warband, or a fallen kingdom Blackthorne had crushed.
But tonight—
They stood united under one banner.
His.
Ezra exhaled, his grip tightening on Abyssfang.
His path forward was clear.
The conquest begins.
---
A Gathering Storm
Blackthorne strode up beside him, arms folded.
"They're ready. Hungry for blood."
Ezra nodded. "Good. Because we're not stopping."
Sylvaine sighed from his other side. "You're really planning to move this fast?"
Ezra smirked. "What, worried?"
She crossed her arms. "More like impressed. Most men take months to consolidate power after winning a warband. You? You're marching the next day."
Ezra's gaze burned.
"We don't have time to waste."
His evolution demanded more.
His body craved stronger enemies.
And the whispers of the Abyss...
They were growing louder.
Blackthorne grinned. "Then who do we crush first?"
---
A Map of Blood and Steel
Inside the war tent, a large map was spread over the wooden table.
Ezra traced his finger across the nearby territories.
Cities. Kingdoms. Empires.
Each one a stepping stone to something greater.
"We have three main threats," Sylvaine said.
She pointed to the north.
The Ironclad Legion.
A powerful mercenary army, known for their unyielding defenses and brutal war tactics.
"They don't take kindly to outsiders," Sylvaine said. "But if we take them out, we'll gain control over their fortress cities."
Ezra nodded.
Then Blackthorne pointed to the west.
The Crimson Fangs.
A ruthless band of warlords, feared for their raids and assassins.
"They control the trade routes," Blackthorne said. "Take them, and we control the lifeline of this region."
Finally, Sylvaine motioned to the south.
The Kingdom of Draven.
A powerful monarchy with an elite order of knights and mages.
"They'll be our biggest challenge," Sylvaine admitted. "But if we take them... we take everything."
Ezra's eyes glowed.
Three choices.
Three paths to power.
He smiled.
"Then let's get started."
---
Choosing the First Target
Ezra turned to Blackthorne.
"Who do you think we should hit first?"
Blackthorne grinned.
"The Crimson Fangs," he said without hesitation. "They fight dirty, but they're weaker than the other two. Crush them, and we'll control the region's economy."
Sylvaine nodded. "It's a smart move. Take their trade routes, and we'll have the resources to fight the bigger battles ahead."
Ezra smirked.
Perfect.
He placed his hand on the map.
"Then we move at dawn."
---
The Conquest Begins
The next morning, the war horns blew.
The ground rumbled as Ezra's newly united army marched westward.
Blackthorne led the front lines.
Sylvaine scouted ahead.
And Ezra—
He stood at the center, his aura radiating strength.
As the sun rose over the horizon, his eyes burned with hunger.
Because this war?
It was only just beginning.
---
Into the Wolf's Den
The sun hung low as Ezra's army marched westward, their advance kicking up clouds of dust.
The Crimson Fangs were ruthless, feared for their ambushes and merciless assassins.
But Ezra?
He welcomed the challenge.
Blackthorne rode beside him, a grin on his scarred face.
"They'll see us coming," the warlord said. "They'll try to lure us into an ambush."
Ezra smirked. "Then we'll make sure they fall into ours first."
---
A Bloody Welcome
They approached the outskirts of Crimson Fang territory by nightfall.
Ezra could feel the eyes watching them from the shadows.
Hidden archers.
Silent assassins.
Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Sylvaine, scouting ahead, returned with a grim expression.
"They're expecting us," she said. "The road ahead is trapped."
Ezra exhaled.
"They think they're the hunters," he murmured.
His lips curled into a grin.
"Let's show them they're the prey."
---
The Trap is Set
Instead of marching blindly forward, Ezra split his forces.
Blackthorne led a decoy unit, marching down the trapped road as if unaware.
Ezra, Sylvaine, and the elite warriors took a hidden path, circling behind the enemy's position.
The Crimson Fangs watched the decoy force—waiting—unaware of the real threat closing in behind them.
---
The Ambush Turns
Then—
The Crimson Fangs struck.
Arrows rained from the trees.
Figures in scarlet cloaks leaped from the darkness, blades flashing.
But before their weapons could land—
Ezra attacked.
BOOM!
He tore through the first assassin, his blade cleaving through armor like paper.
Blackthorne's warriors roared, charging the enemy lines.
The Crimson Fangs screamed.
They had fallen into their own trap.
Ezra moved like a beast, his power growing with every enemy he struck down.
The more he fought, the stronger he became.
And then—
The ground shook.
A new presence entered the battlefield.
---
The Crimson King
A man stepped from the trees, clad in blood-red armor.
His eyes glowed like embers.
His aura was heavy, radiating pure killing intent.
Ezra recognized him immediately.
Varkas, the Crimson King.
The leader of the Crimson Fangs.
Varkas smiled coldly.
"So you're the one they're calling unstoppable."
He unsheathed his twin curved swords.
"Let's find out if that's true."
Ezra grinned, gripping Abyssfang tighter.
This—
This was what he had been waiting for.
---
Duel of Kings
The battlefield grew silent.
Warriors clashed in the distance.
Blood soaked the ground.
But at the center—
Ezra and Varkas stood face to face.
The Crimson King's scarlet armor shimmered under the moonlight. His twin curved swords gleamed, dripping with the blood of fallen men.
Ezra gripped Abyssfang, feeling the blade pulse in his hand.
This was no ordinary enemy.
Varkas was fast. Deadly. And battle-hardened.
But that only made Ezra more excited.
He smirked. "Let's see if you're worthy of that title."
Varkas vanished.
Ezra's instincts screamed.
CLANG!
Sparks erupted as their swords met in a blur of steel.
---
The Crimson Fang's Speed
Varkas moved like a shadow.
One moment, he was in front of Ezra—
The next, he was behind him.
Ezra barely twisted in time, blocking a slash aimed at his neck.
CLANG! CLANG!
Each strike was faster than the last.
Ezra's body burned as he struggled to keep up.
The Crimson King's movements were unnatural.
Impossible.
Then he saw it.
A faint red glow trailing behind Varkas's movements.
Sylvaine, watching from the sidelines, gasped.
"He's using Bloodstep."
Ezra grinned.
"Then I just need to crush him before he gets faster."
---
Pushing the Limits
Ezra's muscles tensed.
He activated Abyssal Surge.
His body exploded forward, closing the distance—
SLASH!
Abyssfang sliced through the air, missing Varkas's head by inches.
The Crimson King barely dodged, but Ezra saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"You're adapting," Varkas said, a grin forming.
Ezra rolled his shoulders. "And you're getting slower."
Varkas chuckled. "We'll see about that."
Then—
The air changed.
Varkas's aura flared, and suddenly—
His body split into five.
---
Crimson Phantom Steps
Ezra narrowed his eyes.
Five Varkas's circled him, each moving too fast to track.
Their swords flashed in the moonlight.
Ezra gritted his teeth.
If he dodged the wrong one—
He'd be dead.
The whispers of the Abyss coiled in his mind.
"Unleash us… Let us consume… More… Power…"
Ezra's heart pounded.
He had a choice.
Use the Abyss's power?
Or fight Varkas without it?
His grip on Abyssfang tightened.
Then—
He made his move.