The line was collapsing. Human shouts were being drowned by the guttural roars of the cultists as their ranks pushed forward like a black tide, devouring what little ground was left. Luca didn't stop to think—he ran, sabers flashing, each step hammering into the mud.
A cultist lunged from the right, blade raised. Luca's saber caught the strike, twisted, and drove through the man's neck in one smooth motion before he tore free and kept running.
Shit, shit, shit—her majesty has no powers. She's in the camp. If they've broken through…
Another came from the left, a spiked mace whistling for his head. Luca ducked under the swing, cut low across the man's thigh, and kicked him aside.
If I'm even a second too slow… His heart was hammering in his skull now, faster with every stride. The camp's edge was ahead, shrouded in smoke.
He broke through—and the world turned into a nightmare.
