Captain Brandon barely had time to swallow the last piece of bread as the watchman's voice echoed to the caravan. His hand went to his sword without conscious thought.
He stood up to prepare for a fight. His soldiers followed.
Brandon's head whipped around just in time to see the young mage, who was separated from the group, jerk forward, a blade blossoming from her back. For a heartbeat, she stared outward at nothing, her mouth parted as if she wanted to ask a question she'd never finish. Then she collapsed forward in the dirt.
"SALLIE!" Brandon bellowed.
Shadows exploded into bodies…men charging from all directions, swords catching the firelight as they descended on the camp.
Kevin was already moving.
He stepped in front of Celize without thinking, placing himself like a wall between her and the ambushers. His plate clattered to the ground behind him as he pushed her back toward the wagon. The black rabbit slipped into his shadow like a drop of ink.
The peaceful chatter from earlier vanished as though someone had wiped it from existence. Now there was only metal, screaming, and the ugly wet sound of blades sinking into flesh.
Captain Brandon's dozen soldiers scrambled to form a line, shields up, but the attackers outnumbered them nearly two to one—twenty men, maybe more, rushing with the savagery of starving dogs.
The attackers hit the shield line like a crashing tide.
Steel slammed against steel, the sound cracking through the camp. Brandon's soldiers grunted as they absorbed the impact, boots sliding back in the dirt. One defender shoved forward, catching an attacker across the face with the rim of his shield. Blood sprayed, but the man didn't fall. Another attacker rammed into the soldier's flank, plunging a dagger into the gap beneath his ribs. The soldier gasped, dropped to his knees, and vanished under a flurry of boots.
The shield wall shuddered again.
"Hold!" Brandon roared.
They tried.
A soldier at the far left swung too wide, leaving his side open. His spear stuck into the belly of one attacker, but before he could pull it free, another man came from behind and brought a sword down hard on his neck. The soldier folded like wet cloth.
On the right, two attackers rushed a guard together. One caught the shield with his blade while the other slid low, sweeping the soldier's legs. The defender fell backward, his head cracked against a rock. He didn't get up again.
Brandon cut down the first man who rushed him, steel slicing into collarbone, hot blood splashing his cheek. He didn't stop moving. Four more men came at him and he pivoted, parrying one strike, then slamming the pommel of his sword into another's throat. The man wheezed and collapsed, choking.
Another defender screamed as an axe tore through his shoulder. His shield fell, leaving a hole in the formation. The attackers poured through it like water.
One soldier fought back with furious desperation, stabbing wildly. He landed two kills before someone caught his wrist, twisted, and sank a dagger into his kidney. He sagged forward, breath leaving him in a trembling sigh.
Kevin wasn't part of the formation—he was fighting by Celize's wagon, drawing attackers who tried to push through to her. Two men rushed him from opposite sides. He dodged left, the first blade slicing the air beside his cheek, then ducked as the second swung high. The black rabbit erupted from his shadow—just a blur, a streak of darkness—slashing the attacker's hamstring before vanishing again. The man collapsed, screaming, giving Kevin the opening to drive his dagger straight into the other man's throat.
The system's voice whispered.
"Congratulations. You obtained ten Soul Fragments."
But Kevin didn't pay attention to that, he needed to protect Lady Celize.
Back near the fire, three soldiers were struggling to hold a tight cluster. One managed to shove his spear upward, skewering an attacker through the chin and out the mouth. But before he could pull it free, another attacker hacked his leg out from under him. The spear fell, and the attacker who'd been skewered gurgled as he slid off the shaft, still alive for a moment before collapsing.
A defender beside Brandon raised his shield to block an overhead strike, but another attacker flanked him and plunged a sword into the gap at his elbow. He screamed and dropped the shield, only for the first attacker to bring his blade down again, separating his shoulder from his body.
The ground was turning muddy from blood, bodies, and kicked-up dirt.
Brandon's men kept fighting and they fought as hard as they can. One soldier lost half his ear to a glancing slash, yet he still managed to trip an attacker and stab him in the chest before finally collapsing from exhaustion and blood loss. Another impaled an enemy with his spear but didn't notice the blade coming for his spine until it was already inside him.
They fell one by one, every death carving another piece out of Brandon's heart. But the attackers paid dearly for every inch they gained. Fourteen of them lay dead, staining the ground, while Brandon had two remaining.
Brandon saw Celize behind Kevin, her face pale, her hands shaking. And he saw Kevin fighting like a man possessed, blades flashing.
Brandon made his decision.
"KEVIN!" he roared, voice cracking through the chaos.
Kevin didn't look, he was too busy ducking under a wild swing. The blade grazed his hair.
"KEVIN, RUN! TAKE THE LADY AND RUN!"
Kevin froze for half a heartbeat.
That hesitation nearly cost him—his attacker lunged again, grazing Kevin's shoulder.
He gritted his teeth.
He knew what Brandon was asking.
He knew what it meant.
It crashed into him all at once—the exact same moment burned into his memory when he was a boy, when his father shoved him away, during the first Portal appear at Earth. The first soulborne raid.
Run, Kevin!
Don't look back!
His father didn't survive.
His mother didn't either.
And now Brandon was doing the same.
Kevin clenched his jaw, heart hammering painfully. For a moment, he wanted to stay—wanted to fight beside them, even if it meant dying. Wanted to spit in fate's face for trying to force him into the same helpless role again.
But Brandon's voice came again, ragged, desperate.
"GO!"
The attacker rushed at him.
Kevin moved first.
He stepped in, grabbed the man by the collar, and drove his dagger straight into the attacker's heart. The man fell without a sound.
Kevin didn't watch him fall.
He turned, scooped Celize into his arms, and ran—
leaving Brandon and the last two soldiers standing alone against the dark.
One of the remaining soldier bashed an enemy in the knee and struck again, crushing the skull. Another blocked three strikes before a fourth got through and sliced across his stomach, spilling him open. He fell to his knees and tried to hold himself together, but it was too late.
By the time the attackers pulled back to regroup, only Brandon remained standing among his original dozen—aside from two half-conscious soldiers who were clutching gaping wounds.
And yet the attackers looked terrible too—six men left, breathing hard, blood dripping from arms and clothes.
The campfire flickered, reflecting in puddles of scarlet.
Brandon wiped his blade across his torn sleeve. Each breath burned. His arms felt heavy. His legs trembled. But his stance did not break.
The attackers parted.
Their leader stepped forward.
A man Brandon knew.
Brandon's stomach dropped.
"…You?" he whispered.
The leader smiled faintly. "Nothing personal. Gold buys loyalty, teacher."
Brandon gritted his teeth. "So you've sold your honor?"
"I sold nothing but my service to the highest bidder."
The remaining attackers circled Brandon, tightening around him like a noose.
Brandon charged first. The attacker's leader rushed towards him.
He blocked the leader's slash, sparks flying, then lunged—forcing the man back two steps. For a moment the old captain fought like a whirlwind, his blade carving arcs of precise steel. He managed to cut one attacker across the cheek, then gut another who stepped too close.
But six against one was too much.
An attacker slashed Brandon's thigh. Another struck his ribs. He staggered, coughing blood, but refused to kneel.
"For Celize…" he breathed.
The leader feinted left.
Brandon parried.
Then pain bloomed in Brandon's back.
A blade pushed through, all the way to his heart.
Brandon froze.
The world softened around him. His sword slipped from his fingers.
As he fell, he managed a faint smile.
Bought them time… good.
His body hit the ground.
The leader flicked his blade clean without a hint of emotion.
"Follow them," he ordered, jerking his chin toward the direction Kevin had taken Celize.
The remaining attackers vanished into the dark, leaving the camp behind—leaving Brandon's corpse cooling on the earth.