"Charge!!!!"
"For Dragonyx!!"
The war drums of the Dragonyx family thundered across the plains, their banners whipping violently in the storm winds as their armies clashed with the Stormfell family's forces. Steel screamed, bodies fell, and mana surged like rivers unleashed from broken dams. The sky was aflame with spells and lightning, the ground split with quakes of swords that could carve mountains.
Among the chaos, Kael fought at the front lines—not as a proud son, not as a cherished heir, but as a weapon. His father had always demanded he fight like a beast and kill without hesitation. His brother Darius, the "true heir," had always sneered, demanding Kael be his shield, his shadow, his expendable protector.
Kael had borne it for years. The ridicule. The lashes. The endless demand to bow his head while bleeding on the battlefield.
But that night was different.
