On the other side, Jim found himself rounded up by four soldiers. A grin spread across his face. "And I thought this was going to be a boring one."
He reinforced his legs with magic, granting him a burst of speed as he dashed toward the soldier directly in front of him. He feigned high with his right short sword, a mere flick of the wrist designed to deceive. The soldier fell for it, shifting his spear to block the anticipated strike from the left. But Jim was already moving right, the feint complete. In the same fluid motion, he swung his left short sword in a clean, precise arc. The blade opened the man's throat, and he dropped to the ground, blood spraying onto the dusty earth.
The other three soldiers closed in, but Jim was already a step ahead, his enhanced speed carrying him past their initial reach. With a grunt of effort, he hurled his right short sword, the magical chain whipping through the air behind it. The blade punched straight through a soldier's wooden shield with a sickening crunch. A sharp tug from Jim wrenched the shield from the man's grasp, leaving him exposed.
Jim, still wearing that infuriating smile, eyed the remaining three. One, armed with a polearm, let out a roar and charged. Jim sidestepped the reckless lunge with a graceful dash to the right, appearing behind the man in an instant. He reversed his grip and slammed the pommel of his sword into the back of the soldier's neck. The man crumpled, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Now only two remained.
The final soldiers, learning from their comrades' mistakes, charged together from opposite sides, pinning Jim between them. He tried to slip away, but found his path blocked by the storage house wall.
They attacked in unison: one bringing his longsword down in a two-handed overhead chop, the other aiming a low, sweeping slash at Jim's legs.
Jim crossed his blades, gritting his teeth as he caught both strikes simultaneously. Magic flared around his arms, and with a powerful shove, he sent the soldier on his right stumbling back onto the ground. But the one on his left held his ground, his blade locked with Jim's, buying just enough time for his partner to scramble up and deliver a brutal kick to Jim's side.
The air rushed from Jim's lungs as he was knocked down. He rolled with the impact, coming up immediately. In one fluid motion, he threw his left sword like a dart to distract them and rushed forward. He dropped into a slide through the dirt, his remaining blade slicing deep into the lead soldier's leg, severing tendons through the armor. As the man screamed and fell, Jim was already back on his feet. He spun to face the last soldier, who barely had time to raise his sword before Jim's final, merciless slash fell from above.
Breathing heavily, Jim finally allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. He looked across the yard to see Edward standing amidst a circle of fallen men. Only the Captain remained.
"You dog!" the Captain yelled, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear. Behind him, the Khan watched, a smug smile plastered on his face. "You think you're a match for me?"
"I can see the fear in your eyes," Edward replied, his voice dangerously calm and cold.
Enraged, the Captain charged. Edward didn't so much as flinch. He simply brought his sword up, and the blade glowed with a sudden, fierce light. With a sharp horizontal swing, a blade of pure energy, a shimmering crescent, shot forth. It struck the Captain square in the chest and hurled him backward several meters, his armor smoking.
"Magic. You bastard!" the Captain snarled, scrambling to his feet. He barely dodged as Edward unleashed a second arc of light, this one vertical. It screamed past him and tore a deep furrow in the ground, demonstrating a power that was clearly lethal, yet precisely controlled. Edward lowered his sword as the first rays of the rising sun broke over the courtyard.
"Last chance to surrender," Edward said, the dawn light catching the cold steel in his eyes.
The Captain, driven by pride and desperation, ignored the offer and charged once more. Edward shifted his grip, aligning the sword with his forearm and bracing his stance.
The Captain's attack was a wild, overhead chop born of panic. Edward met it with a solid block, the clang of steel echoing in the morning air. The reckless swing had left the Captain's chest wide open. Edward seized the opportunity, shoving the Captain's blade aside with brute force and in the same motion, driving his own sword forward with ruthless efficiency. The steel pierced clean through the man's upper torso and erupted from his back in a shower of crimson.
The Captain's eyes widened in shock, then went blank. It was over.