The night was alive with chaos. Torches sputtered in the wind, shadows twisting against canvas and steel. Screams and the clash of swords filled the air, but around one patch of churned earth, the battle stilled. Men on both sides instinctively drew back, forming a wide circle. All eyes were fixed on the three figures in the centre.
Ser Kain stood like a war-god, blood-soaked and unbowed. His massive frame loomed beneath the firelight, every line of his armour scarred and dented, but his movements carried no sign of fatigue. The crimson glare in his eyes promised only death. Around him lay the broken remains of soldiers he had cleaved apart like kindling.
Across from him, Marquis Brandford planted his boots into the mud, broad shoulders squared, his greatsword braced in steady hands. He looked like a fortress in human form—immovable, enduring, his breath steady despite the blood trickling from a gash on his cheek.
And circling to the side, Aleric's lean figure shifted with restless energy, blade glinting as it weaved in small circles. He did not match the sheer presence of the other two, but his eyes were sharp, his body coiled like a drawn bowstring.
The silence broke.
"You think two of you will make a difference?" Ser Kain's voice rumbled like distant thunder. He dragged his sword across the ground, sparks hissing. "I've felled knights ten at a time tonight."
Brandford smirked grimly. "Then tonight, you'll learn the taste of humility."
Aleric tilted his head, voice cool. "Or perhaps the taste of my sword."
With a roar, Ser Kain lunged. The earth seemed to shake as his blade came down in a brutal arc. Brandford met it head-on, his greatsword shuddering from the impact. The clash rang like a bell struck with a hammer, the sound ringing across the battlefield, sparks cascading in the torchlight.
"Gods!" one soldier gasped from the circle. "He stopped that?"
Brandford's teeth clenched. His arms trembled under the weight. "Boy!" he barked. "Now!"
Aleric darted forward, blade flashing low toward Kain's exposed flank. But Kain twisted with impossible speed for a man his size. His gauntlet snapped out, catching Aleric's blade and shoving it aside. Aleric stumbled, forced to retreat in a roll.
Kain laughed, the sound guttural and savage. "Too slow, whelp."
"Too arrogant," Aleric shot back, springing to his feet.
Kain unleashed a flurry of blows, each swing wide enough to cut three men in half, yet fast, terrifyingly fast. Brandford braced himself, steel singing as he met the strikes, sparks spraying with every clash. Each hit drove him back, his boots tearing trenches in the mud.
"Hold, damn you, hold!" shouted a soldier from the Crown Prince's side.
Aleric slipped in and out like a shadow, darting to strike when Kain overextended, his blade hissing toward the knight's knee, his ribs, his neck. Each time Kain turned with uncanny reflexes, parrying with his sword or shoulder-checking with brutal force.
"Two jackals snapping at a lion," Kain snarled, forcing Brandford back another step. "You'll break your swords before I break."
"You're no lion," Brandford growled, catching another downward strike with both hands. "You're a rabid hound that needs putting down."
The blades locked, the two giants straining in a contest of strength. The ground beneath them groaned under the pressure. Aleric seized the moment, darting in with a thrust aimed at Kain's thigh.
But the knight's knee shot up like lightning, smashing into Aleric's ribs. The boy stumbled back with a choked cry, pain flaring in his side.
"Aleric!" Jaren's voice rang out from beyond the ring, his sword clashing against enemies trying to break in. "Stand up!"
"I'm fine," Aleric gasped, clutching his side. His eyes burned with focus. "Keep him busy, Marquis!"
Brandford growled, sweat streaming down his temple. "Easier said than done!"
Kain shoved off, breaking the blade-lock with a powerful twist. His next strike came so fast it blurred in the firelight, aimed straight for Brandford's neck. The Marquis barely ducked, the edge carving a streak through his pauldron instead.
"Gods, he's too fast," muttered a knight in the crowd, awe mingling with fear.
"Faster than he has any right to be," Aleric muttered under his breath.
The rhythm shifted again. Brandford feinted low, drawing Kain's sword downward, just for an instant. "Now!" he barked.
Aleric darted in, blade gleaming. He slipped past Kain's guard with perfect timing, his sword sweeping across the knight's chest.
A shriek of metal. The sound of a sword biting flesh.
Blood splattered across the mud as Aleric's strike tore through armour, cutting across Kain's chest. The knight staggered a step, his massive body jerking from the force.
The circle erupted in shouts. "They drew blood! They drew blood!"
Brandford exhaled sharply, bringing his blade back to guard. Aleric crouched low, ready to move again, his chest heaving.
But Ser Kain straightened, a crimson smear running down his breastplate. His breath hissed through clenched teeth. Slowly, his head turned toward Aleric, eyes blazing with fury.
"Good," he growled, voice deep and terrible. He raised his sword again, the firelight gleaming off its bloodstained edge. "At last… you've made this interesting."
The beast had been wounded, but the wound was not deep enough.
For a heartbeat, it seemed as if Ser Kain would fall. His massive chest heaved, blood seeping through the split in his breastplate, staining the steel black in the torchlight. The crowd of soldiers held their breath, daring to hope.
Then he roared.
It was no human sound, but the guttural bellow of a beast, raw fury made flesh. With terrifying speed, Kain surged forward, his blade whistling through the air. The force of his swing sent Brandford staggering backwards, boots sliding through mud.
"Gods above, he's faster!" someone gasped.
"Stay sharp, boy!" Brandford barked at Aleric, raising his sword just in time to deflect another strike. The impact numbed his arms, nearly tearing the blade from his grip.
Kain pressed his advantage, every swing now reckless, monstrous, but impossibly powerful. His sword smashed into Brandford's greatsword again and again, sparks raining, the clang deafening.
"Die! Die, both of you!" Kain thundered, eyes wide, teeth bared. He swung low at Aleric, who barely managed to leap aside, the blade carving a deep gouge into the earth where he'd stood.
The crowd drew back, the ring widening instinctively as dirt and blood sprayed outward.
Aleric's chest burned, lungs struggling to keep pace with the flurry of movement. "Marquis—he's gone mad!"
"Mad or not, we stand!" Brandford growled, deflecting another strike. His shoulders shook under the pressure, but he refused to yield ground.
Outside the ring, the wider battle raged. Kain's 5,000 raiders had smashed into the Crown Prince's camp, expecting terror and chaos. Instead, they found barricades bristling with spears and men ready for them. Flaming pitch poured over their advance, and arrows rained from concealed positions. Trapped between obstacles and disciplined lines, the raiders began to fall in droves.
"Curses! They tricked us!" cried one of Kain's men as he was run through by a spear.
"Pull back! Pull—" another screamed before an arrow pierced his throat.
But there was no pulling back. They were caught in a grinder, every step met with steel or fire. What was meant to be a raid turned into a slaughter.
Back in the circle, Aleric darted in, blade flashing toward Kain's side. The knight twisted impossibly fast, his gauntleted fist slamming into Aleric's chest. The boy flew backwards, skidding through mud, breath knocked from his lungs.
"Aleric!" Jaren cried, hacking down an enemy soldier who tried to reach his brother. He surged forward, interposing himself protectively between Aleric and Kain. "Stand, brother!"
Aleric coughed, tasting blood, forcing himself upright. "I'm… fine," he rasped, clutching his ribs. His eyes blazed with renewed fury.
Kain grinned, teeth red with his own blood. "Good. Get up, little lord. Get up so I can break you again."
Brandford lunged, slashing across Kain's arm. The knight barely flinched, retaliating with a savage overhead strike that nearly caved Brandford's helm in. Sparks flew as steel met steel, the Marquis straining against the weight.
"You hold well, old man," Kain snarled, voice ragged with exertion. "But how long before your arms give out?"
Brandford's teeth gritted. "Long enough for the boy to finish you."
"I'll tear his spine out first!"
With that, Kain whirled, blade cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Aleric ducked beneath it, feeling the wind of death brush his hair, and countered with a quick thrust at Kain's thigh. The blade bit, but shallow—just enough to anger the beast further.
The soldiers watching erupted into shouts. Some of the Crown Prince's men cheered desperately: "He bleeds again!" Others, from the Duke's side, shouted in defiance: "Stand strong, Ser Kain! Cut them down!"
But outside the ring, their cries grew thinner. The raiders were being crushed. The disciplined ranks of the Crown Prince's soldiers advanced methodically, cutting them down yard by yard. Fires lit the night sky, illuminating the horror.
Aleric darted back to Brandford's side, sweat and blood mixing on his brow. "Marquis—we can't keep this pace. He'll wear us down."
Brandford spat into the mud, raising his sword again. "Then we find his opening and end him. No more half-measures."
Kain raised his blade high, chest heaving, eyes burning with the wild joy of slaughter. "Yes… end me if you can!" he roared, charging once more.
The circle trembled with the force of his steps. The duel's storm had not yet broken.
The battlefield roared, yet all sound seemed to dim where the three men clashed.
Kain, chest heaving, blood pouring from the slash Aleric had carved into him, fought like a beast, wounded but unbroken. His sword swung with the power of a landslide, forcing even Brandford to grit his teeth and dig his boots into the churned mud to hold his ground. Sparks spat from every clash, each impact louder than cannon fire.
"You'll need more than scratches to kill me!" Kain thundered, spit and blood flying from his mouth.
"You're already dying, dog," Brandford spat back, locking blades and twisting hard, trying to force Kain off balance.
Kain shoved forward with monstrous strength, breaking the lock and hurling Brandford two steps back. Aleric darted in, swift as a striking falcon, his blade flashing low for Kain's leg. But the knight's reflexes were uncanny—he kicked out, boot smashing against Aleric's chest, knocking him onto his back.
The young lord gasped, the air punched out of him. Kain raised his blade high, eyes wild. "I'll cleave you in two!"
"Not while I draw breath!" Brandford bellowed, slamming into Kain's side, his sword intercepting the killing strike. The two titans clashed again, sword shrieking against sword.
Aleric rolled aside, coughing, forcing himself to his feet. His vision swam, ribs aching from the kick, but he raised his sword once more.
"Boy," Brandford growled through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving Kain, "we end this—together!"
Aleric nodded, tightening his grip.
Kain broke free with a savage roar, spinning and striking with a horizontal sweep that forced both men to leap back. His chest heaved, blood staining his mail, yet his eyes still burned with mad defiance.
"You think two mongrels can bring down a wolf?" he spat. "Come then! I'll die standing, but I'll drag you both to the grave with me!"
With a beastly roar, Kain charged. His blade descended toward Brandford's skull like judgment itself. The Marquis braced, catching the blow with a scream of effort, his legs buckling under the impact.
Now.
Aleric dashed forward, slipping past the locked blades. His sword thrust upward in a blur of silver, plunging into Kain's exposed chest—deep this time, piercing through mail and flesh.
Kain's roar turned to a choking gurgle, but he did not fall. His massive hand shot out, clamping onto Aleric's shoulder like an iron vice. "I'll… take you with me!" he snarled, blood bubbling from his lips.
"Not today," Brandford snarled. With one last surge of strength, he swung his blade in a vicious diagonal cut across Kain's neck like a knife cutting through butter.
Blood sprayed in an arc as Kain's head lolled grotesquely, half-severed. The giant staggered, releasing Aleric, his sword falling from nerveless fingers. For a moment, he stood, as though sheer will alone kept him upright. Then, with a final growl that faded into a wet cough, Ser Kain collapsed to his knees—and toppled forward, lifeless, into the mud.
The ring of soldiers erupted—some cheering, others gasping in disbelief. The greatest knight of the kingdom lay slain, felled not by one man, but by two fighting side by side.
Aleric panted, his chest heaving, staring down at the fallen colossus. His arm ached, blood trickled from a cut on his temple, and every muscle screamed. Yet he stood.
Brandford rested his blade on his shoulder, sweat dripping from his brow. He gave Aleric a fierce, approving look. "Well struck, boy. Together, we cut down a legend."
Aleric's gaze lingered on Kain's corpse. "Legends still bleed."
The Marquis smirked grimly. "Aye. And tonight, one more has fallen."
Around them, the last of the raiders were being cut down, their assault broken. The night raid had failed. And with the death of Ser Kain, a shadow lifted from the battlefield—though both Aleric and Brandford knew this war was nearing its end.