Chapter 105 – Fire and Blood
The silence broke with a single motion.
Kael lifted his arm, and the gates of the Hollow groaned behind him. The eyes of every soldier, every watcher, every soul rested on him. Then—
He dropped his hand.
The Hollow erupted.
From the towers, fire arrows streaked through the morning air, trailing embers before crashing into the enemy ranks. Oil jars tumbled from the parapets, shattering with violent bursts of flame. Spears rained down like hail, skewering the front lines as panicked horses reared and screamed.
The first wave of soldiers staggered in chaos, shields clattering uselessly against the downpour of death. Screams tore the silence apart.
Kael stepped forward, his voice a roar over the clash of steel. Shadows exploded outward from him, surging across the battlefield like a living tide. Spears of darkness impaled soldiers, tearing through armor as if it were cloth. With a sweep of his hand, he ripped fissures in the ground, swallowing men whole.
The enemy faltered. Entire lines broke under his assault. The clearing that had been so still minutes ago was now a hellscape of fire, ash, and blood.
Umbra darted into the fray at his side, snapping necks, tearing through flesh with primal fury. Together, they were a storm no shield could withstand.
Kael's magic grew darker with every heartbeat. Chaos boiled in his veins, raw and unstoppable. Men burned, men broke, men begged for mercy that never came. His helm's horns gleamed through the smoke, the symbol of a monster they could not kill.
The Hollow's fighters surged from behind him, emboldened by his presence. Their blades flashed. Their voices cried out in defiance. The first wave of the enemy—the strongest they had ever faced—was torn apart.
But still, the drums began again.
Still, the enemy pushed forward.
Kael clenched his fists, shadows hissing around him like a living fire. He lifted his arm once more, his signal clear.
The second wave.
From the gates thundered the ogre brothers, Rogan with his massive halberd raised high, Varik with blades glinting in both hands. Their roars shook the battlefield, their magic crackling with their very souls. Druaka was beside them, her warcry cutting through the smoke as she cleaved down into the enemy ranks with savage strength.
The Hollow's warriors followed, crashing into the already broken enemy lines. Kael felt pride flare in his chest. The Hollow was holding. They could win this.
But the enemy was vast. More soldiers poured forward, desperate, commanded by generals who would not yield. Kael fought with everything he had, cutting swathes through their lines, his power splitting their formations. And then—
He saw her.
Druaka.
She fought like a whirlwind, her axe drenched in blood, her roar carrying above the din. But she was too far forward, too deep in the enemy's mass. Kael's gut clenched as he surged toward her, shadows tearing down anyone in his path.
Then the spear struck.
It came from the side, hurled by a captain clad in black steel. The weapon tore through Druaka's side, piercing beneath her ribs. The force lifted her from her feet, her cry echoing above the battlefield.
Time slowed.
Kael's eyes widened behind his helm.
Her body twisted, blood spraying across the trampled earth. She staggered, her axe slipping from her grip, her strength faltering for the first time.
"Druaka!" Kael's voice ripped through the chaos.
She turned her head once, her eyes finding his even as the color drained from her face. A faint smile flickered, defiant even in pain.
And then she fell.
Her massive frame hit the bloody ground with a sickening thud, dust and blood rising around her.
Kael froze. The battlefield blurred around him—screams, fire, steel, all swallowed by the sight of her lifeless body crumpled in the dirt.
The chaos magic within him trembled, ready to explode.
The Hollow's future, his heart, his fury—everything collapsed into that single moment, watching Druaka bleed into the earth as the enemy closed in.