Chapter 316: No Escape

It landed heavily on the other side, the ground cracking beneath its weight, and immediately continued the chase.

Darion looked ahead.

’Almost.’

Caef glanced backward. His eyes widened. Darion was getting closer. Much closer.

"No!" He kicked the horse harder.

The stallion suddenly veered toward a building.

Caef barely had time to react. "What are you—"

CRASH!

The horse jumped straight through a window.

Glass exploded everywhere, a shower of shimmering shards that glittered in the torchlight. Dross screamed as they disappeared inside. Caef struggled to control the horse as it raced through the building.

Furniture shattered beneath its hooves. Tables flipped. Chairs splintered. People screamed and scattered out of the way, diving aside as the massive stallion thundered through their homes.

Then—

BOOM!

Darion’s undead wolf crashed through the wall.

Stone exploded outward. Dust filled the air. The wall that had once been solid was now a gaping hole, rubble scattered across the street. Darion didn’t even flinch. He kept his eyes forward.

"Keep going!"

The wolf continued. The chase had become completely insane. They raced through the building, smashing through whatever stood in their way. Walls crumbled. Furniture exploded. The structure groaned and shook with every impact. Then the horse burst through the opposite wall.

BOOM!

Caef and Dross emerged back into the street, the horse’s hooves clattering against the cobblestones. The wolf followed seconds later, another wall exploding outward as it forced its way through.

The gap was smaller now. Much smaller.

Seren raised her bow.

She had been waiting for the right moment. Now she had it.

She drew. Aimed. Released.

THWIP!

The arrow flew through the air. It struck the horse’s flank. The stallion screamed. "AH!" It stumbled. But somehow, it kept running.

Caef gritted his teeth. "Don’t stop!"

Dross clung desperately to him. "The gate!"

Caef looked ahead. The outer gate wasn’t far now. If they reached it... they could escape.

Seren drew another arrow. Darion glanced back at her. She already knew what he needed.

"One more."

Seren’s eyes narrowed. She drew the string back.

She released.

THWIP!

The arrow flew straight toward the horse. This time...

THUD!

It struck the horse’s leg.

The stallion screamed. Its leg buckled. Its momentum carried it forward for a few more strides, then it fell.

BOOM!

Dross and Caef were thrown from the saddle. They slammed into the dirt, their bodies tumbling across the ground. They rolled. And rolled. And finally stopped.

For a moment, neither man moved.

Darion jumped off the undead wolf. He didn’t wait. He charged.

Dross struggled to push himself up. His hands trembled. He looked over his shoulder. Darion was already there.

"No—"

Darion grabbed him. Then punched him.

BAM!

Dross’s head snapped sideways. Another punch. BAM! Blood sprayed from his mouth. A third. BAM! Dross collapsed against the ground.

Darion stood over him, breathing heavily. The Chief of Vrethka’s face was already swollen and covered in blood. Darion stared down at him. Then he looked toward Caef.

Caef was frozen. He knew exactly what was coming next.

Darion turned toward the undead that had followed him. "Bind them."

The undead immediately moved. Several knights grabbed Dross. Others seized Caef. Their hands were forced behind their backs and tied tightly. The two men were dragged to their knees.

Dross groaned. Caef struggled. It didn’t matter. There was no escaping the undead.

Darion looked toward Ghet Ulg and Edric Vorne. "Take them to the tallest building." He paused. "Now."

Ghet Ulg and Edric Vorne moved forward. They grabbed Dross and Caef as if they weighed nothing. Dross was thrown over Ghet Ulg’s shoulder. Caef was carried by Edric Vorne.

Darion turned and started walking. Seren followed beside him. The undead followed behind them.

And strangely... the remaining fighters of Vrethka mostly just watched, the few that saw. Nobody attacked. Nobody tried to save their Chief. Not that they could. They were swarmed with undeads. Moreover, they had seen enough. They knew what Darion had done to their army. And now they watched as their leader was carried away.

They reached a tall stone tower near the center of Vrethka.

It rose above the surrounding buildings, giving a clear view of the settlement. Ghet Ulg entered first. Dross remained slung over his shoulder. Darion followed. Seren came behind him. The undead carried Caef as well.

They climbed. Higher. And higher. Until they reached the top.

Ghet Ulg dropped Dross onto the stone floor. Dross struggled to breathe. He looked around. Then his eyes landed on Darion.

Darion stepped forward. He drew his sword. The golden light immediately appeared along the blade.

Dross’s eyes widened.

"Please..." His voice trembled. "Please—"

Darion didn’t answer.

Below them, the fighters of Vrethka watched. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. They simply watched.

Darion raised his sword. Dross stared at the glowing blade.

"Please—"

Darion swung.

SLASH!

Dross’s head separated from his body.

It flew through the air. Spinning. Blood trailing behind it. For one brief moment, everything seemed frozen.

Then the head struck the ground far below.

THUD.

It rolled across the street. Once. Twice. Then slowed. And finally...

Stopped.

The Chief of Vrethka was dead.

Dross’s head rolled across the stone street.

It bounced once. Twice. Then finally came to a stop in the dirt, its face frozen in an expression of terror, its eyes still wide open. Blood pooled around it, dark and thick, soaking into the cracks between the cobblestones.

For a moment, everything was silent.

The battle that had been raging only seconds ago seemed to disappear beneath the sudden stillness. The clash of steel, the screams of dying men, the monstrous roars of undead creatures, all of it faded into a heavy, suffocating quiet. It was as if the world itself had stopped breathing.

The warriors of Vrethka stared at the head lying on the ground. Some of them didn’t even understand what they were looking at. Their minds couldn’t process it.

Their chief, the man who had led them for years, the man who had commanded them in battle after battle, the man who had promised them victory, was lying in the dirt like a discarded piece of meat.