The gates of Solmere had never held a crowd like this.
Word traveled fast in a growing city.
Imperial soldiers.
Confiscations.
Threats.
And now—an army outside the walls.
Merchants abandoned stalls. Workers climbed scaffolding for a better view. Mothers pulled children close. Guild members stood shoulder to shoulder with craftsmen.
Brannic and Merriweather pushed through the gathering.
Grathok's massive frame loomed beside them, jaw clenched.
They saw him.
Jax.
Standing alone before one hundred Imperial soldiers.
Sunlight poured down on Solmere as it always did. Just warm air and a blue sky that felt insultingly calm compared to the tension below.
He stood between the Empire and the town.
Alone.
"There's something you should know about me," Jax said, voice carrying effortlessly across the field.
"I'm never alone."
The air changed.
Mana pulsed outward from him in a visible wave.
The ground beneath his boots darkened.
And then the shadows rose.
They did not crawl.
They did not seep.
They erupted.
Crystal-armored Shadow Knights burst from the earth. Fang emerged first, serpentine body coiling and uncoiling in lethal grace. Gryph unfurled massive wings of blackened feathers. Ice Wizards formed in ranks behind them. Heavy infantry shadows locked shields.
And then—
The sky roared.
Dante.
Now SS-Rank.
Wings spanning wider than the town gates, scales black as midnight glass, eyes burning with ancient fire.
He did not attack.
He circled.
Once.
Twice.
A predator claiming territory.
The Imperial lines faltered.
Their hundred-man formation no longer looked impressive.
It looked surrounded.
General Cassian Viremont's face drained of color.
"He commands a dragon…" someone whispered.
Jax lifted his head slightly.
His voice amplified again—not shouting, not straining—just heard everywhere.
"You have one chance to leave."
The shadows did not move.
"Any step toward Solmere," he continued calmly, "will be your last."
The soldiers hesitated.
Viremont's mind raced.
At the shop, the shadows had only defended.
They had not attacked.
Perhaps this was a bluff.
An intimidation tactic.
They were the Empire.
The Empire did not retreat from provincial towns.
The Empire did not kneel to demi-humans and merchants.
He smiled.
"Destroy this fool," Viremont barked.
"Destroy this town."
"Advance!"
The cavalry surged first.
Hooves thundered.
Infantry followed in disciplined lines.
Battle mages began channeling.
Jax smiled.
"Okay boys," he said quietly.
"No survivors."
He stepped back.
The shadows stepped forward.
Dante folded his wings and dove.
His first pass incinerated the backline mages in a column of dragonfire so intense the air itself seemed to scream. The support corps vanished in seconds.
Fang struck next—poison tearing through armored ranks. Gryph descended like a falling guillotine, talons rending cavalry from saddles.
Shadow Knights crashed into infantry formations.
And then Jax moved.
Requiem was in his hands before anyone saw him draw.
Two precise shots.
Two mounted captains fell.
Holster.
Peacemaker came free from the ground in one smooth motion.
He entered the battlefield.
Not charging wildly.
Walking.
Each swing of Peacemaker removed limbs, split shields, crushed armor like parchment.
He remembered the red mark on Merriweather's face.
The look in Brannic's eyes.
The helplessness.
His rage did not make him sloppy.
It made him efficient.
He hurled Peacemaker in a spinning arc.
The massive blade scythed through a dozen soldiers, carving a path of destruction before boomeranging back into his waiting hand.
Requiem flashed again.
Headshots.
Precise.
Measured.
Controlled.
Within minutes—
It was over.
The field was silent except for crackling embers and the heavy breathing of surviving horses.
Ninety-two Imperial soldiers lay dead.
General Viremont lay in pieces at Jax's feet. Both of his arms had been severed and he was missing an entire leg at the waist.
His mind was racing. How is this man so powerful. Who is he?
His eyes were fixed on the man towering above his broken body. The last thing he heard as the man's boot came down on his face was the send off, "Rest in pieces."
The shadows stood motionless.
Eight soldiers remained untouched.
They had not advanced.
They had not attacked.
They had frozen in place when the charge began.
Jax turned toward them.
The shadows shifted.
Encircling.
The eight men dropped their weapons immediately.
"Go," Jax said.
His voice was no longer amplified.
It didn't need to be.
"Tell the Empire this."
He stepped forward, trench coat settling around him.
"Solmere is no longer under Imperial protection."
A pause.
"We follow new rules now."
Dante descended behind him, wings spreading wide enough to blot out the sun.
Jax's eyes burned.
"We are the United Kingdoms."
The eight soldiers ran.
They did not look back.
Behind Jax, the citizens of Solmere stood in stunned silence.
They had watched one man summon an army.
They had watched a dragon circle like a god of war.
They had watched the Empire fall in minutes.
Grathok slowly removed his hat.
Brannic exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
Merriweather stared at Jax as if seeing him for the first time.
Not just a partner.
Not just a merchant.
Something else.
Something larger.
The shadows dissolved back into the earth.
Dante rose once more into the sky and vanished into nothing.
Jax stood alone again.
His system chimed softly in his vision.
Of all the notifications flooding through his interface—
One stood out.
NEGOTIATION SKILL LEVELED UP
Jax blinked once.
Then he laughed quietly to himself.
Because sometimes—
The most effective negotiation…
Is overwhelming leverage.
And Solmere had just gained a nation.