Dust spiraled in the wind as the sun dipped behind the stone walls of the crumbling stronghold. The air reeked of blood, smoke, and something older—something darker.
Within the collapsing ruins of the hideout, a single masked warrior stood with a black blade in hand, gleaming with a crimson aura that shimmered like heat waves.
Kael's breathing was sharp and fast, sweat streaming down his temples, yet his grip on the sword remained steady. Across from him stood four figures—Verno, Jax, Marn, and Garro—each exuding an ominous presence that seemed to make the very walls tremble.
Kael had charged first.
Jax, the one-armed brute with a rusted ship hook in place of his forearm, had just smashed into a stone pillar and was rising from the dust when Kael struck. With a roar, Kael closed the gap, sword raised for a lethal slash—but before the blade could fall, wind howled around him.
BOOOOOM!
