The news of an approaching enemy army sent a wave of nervous energy through Kael's camp. But instead of giving in to panic, Kael channeled the tension into methodical preparation. The first rule of a wise commander was never to wait for the enemy on his own ground.

  Kael gathered his lieutenants in the war room—a simple space where a roughly carved table served as their strategic map. Among them were Darius, the former mercenary turned right-hand man, Lysara, the sharp-eyed scout, and a few other rising figures among his men.

  "Our position isn’t defensible for a prolonged fight," Kael declared, tracing a line on the map. "If we wait here, we’ll be crushed by their numbers. We need to strike first, and strike hard."

  Darius nodded, a wolfish grin on his lips. "A surprise attack. We’ll have the advantage of initiative. But do we have enough men for this?"

  Lysara leaned over the map, pointing to a steep canyon a few kilometers west. "If we lure them here, we can use the terrain to our advantage. A well-placed ambush could throw them into total chaos."

  Kael considered her words, then turned to his men. "Then it's decided. We move out tonight. Darius, select our best fighters for the vanguard. Lysara, I want your scouts tracking every move they make. Not a single detail escapes us."

  Preparations were swift but meticulous. The men gathered their weapons, sharpened their blades, and smeared ash on their faces to blend into the shadows. Kael walked through the camp, assessing each of them. He saw a new kind of determination in their eyes. They were no longer just a band of survivors but a force united by a common goal.

  At dawn, the enemy army advanced through unfamiliar terrain, unaware of the trap awaiting them. Their commander, a man named Varian, led from the front, confident in his numerical superiority. He expected to crush a ragtag group of brigands.

  But as his forces entered the narrow canyon, an eerie silence settled over them. The birds had gone quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  Then, suddenly, the chaos erupted.

  Boulders tumbled down the cliffs, crashing onto the soldiers below. Arrows rained from the heights, sowing panic. Kael and his men emerged from the shadows, striking with ruthless precision.

  The enemy tried to regroup, but the canyon’s tight confines made organization impossible. Kael’s warriors struck with cold, calculated efficiency, each blow designed to maximize destruction.

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  Kael himself plunged into the heart of the melee, his blade whistling through the air. He parried a battle-axe, pivoted, and drove his sword into an enemy soldier’s throat. With a swift motion, he yanked his blade free as the man gurgled his last breath and collapsed.

  Darius led a brutal assault on the right flank, cutting down foes with relentless fury. His strikes were heavy and merciless, cleaving through armor and flesh alike. Beside him, Lysara weaved through the chaos, dodging blows with feline grace before sinking her daggers into the weak points of enemy armor.

  The screams of the dying echoed through the canyon, blending with the clash of steel. The enemy tried to retreat, but Kael’s forces tightened the noose. From the cliffs above, his archers loosed volley after volley, cutting down fleeing soldiers without mercy.

  Suddenly, a squad of elite warriors among Varian’s troops made a desperate push. Clad in heavy shields and longswords, they advanced with disciplined aggression. Kael saw the danger and immediately ordered a counteroffensive.

  Darius roared a command, leading a ferocious charge to intercept them. The collision was brutal. Steel clashed in a storm of sparks, shields absorbing blows with deafening force. One enemy soldier broke through the line, rushing straight for Kael. He dodged swiftly, but not before a blade grazed his arm.

  Gritting his teeth, he retaliated with deadly precision. His sword plunged into the enemy’s gut before being ripped free in a crimson spray. Kael’s warriors fought with renewed intensity, slowly overwhelming the elite soldiers in a merciless bloodbath.

  Realizing the battle was lost, Varian turned to flee—but Kael intercepted him.

  The two leaders locked eyes. Varian, clad in full armor, raised his sword with a defiant roar. He attacked with brute force, hoping to crush Kael under the weight of his blows. But Kael was faster. He dodged, studying Varian’s movements, searching for an opening.

  Varian charged again, his blade slicing through the air in a lethal arc. At the last second, Kael ducked, feeling the wind of the swing brush past his head. In a single, fluid motion, he struck back, slicing deep into Varian’s leg.

  The enemy commander staggered, shock flashing across his face. Kael gave him no time to recover. Pivoting swiftly, he delivered the final blow—his sword cleaving through Varian’s throat.

  A thick spray of blood erupted, staining the rocky ground. Varian’s body collapsed with a heavy thud, his lifeless eyes staring at the indifferent sky.

  Around them, the last of the enemy soldiers were slaughtered without mercy. The canyon floor was littered with corpses, a sea of mangled bodies pooling in crimson under the pale morning light.

  Kael raised his bloodied sword and let out a fierce battle cry. "Today, we have proven that we are more than just a rumor! We are a force that no one can ignore!"

  His men, drenched in blood, roared in unison, pounding their weapons against their shields in triumphant defiance.

  Darius gestured toward the captured soldiers, kneeling and trembling with fear. "What do we do with them?"

  Kael’s gaze swept over them coldly. "Some may be useful. The rest... you know what to do."

  Without another word, he turned away, leaving the battlefield behind—a land of butchered corpses and shattered steel. This victory was only the beginning. Bloodier wars awaited.