Titanbound: Echoes of Fate

The rhythmic thud of the axe cutting through the wood echoed in the quiet, rain-drenched forest. Darius Kael stood just outside the kingdom, his figure half-hidden by the dense canopy above, which did little to shield him from the relentless downpour. His black hair, matted with water, clung to his forehead, the white streak in his bangs more visible than ever. His blue-grey eyes were focused, sharp, as they always were when he worked—thoughtful, controlled.

Each swing of the axe was deliberate, calculated. The wood splintered and cracked with ease under his strength, yet Darius didn't allow himself to be rushed. His Titanbound Physique coursed through him, a living testament to power that could crush mountains. But in moments like these, when it was just him, the rain, and the sound of wood breaking beneath his strikes, he sought something more—control, mastery over the destructive force that lingered inside him, always threatening to break free.

The rain slicked his skin, soaking through his training clothes, but Darius barely noticed. His breath was steady, a rhythm matching the axe's swing. His gaze remained fixed on the pile of logs before him, each chop a small but necessary victory over the fear of what his magic could become if left unchecked.

He had always been this way, introspective. His past—his village, the people he had saved—haunted him in quieter moments. That power within him, the one that had shaken the ground and shattered rock, felt like both a gift and a curse. He needed to master it, to refine it until it was a tool that protected, rather than destroyed. That was why he kept pushing himself, even in the rain, even when the weight of the world seemed to bear down on him.

But for now, it was just the axe, the wood, and the rain. The steady rhythm of his work grounded him, and for a brief moment, he could forget the larger questions that lingered in his heart. Here, in the solitude of the storm, he was just Darius Kael—the boy who needed to find balance between power and restraint.

The soft sound of rain pattering against leaves was broken only by the rhythmic thud of the axe. Elara Veyne stood just beyond the clearing, her presence almost unnoticed at first as she watched Darius. She wasn't close enough to disturb him but was within sight, her golden blonde hair shimmering like strands of sunlight even under the gray clouds. She leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed loosely over her chest, the rain gliding off her like water off polished stone.

Her bright blue eyes were fixed on him, not with the intensity of someone scrutinizing, but with the quiet appreciation of someone who understood. She could see the struggle in his movements—the calculated swings, the careful precision—and she knew it wasn't just the wood he was trying to conquer. It was his own power, that raw potential within him that he feared would break free if not carefully contained.

Her magic, Soul Echoes, had always made her sensitive to others, their thoughts, emotions, and even their skills lingering just beneath the surface. She could feel the weight of Darius's inner turmoil, though he never spoke of it. It was in the way he moved, the way he never allowed himself to truly relax, even in moments like these. She understood that burden more than most, having her own battle with identity through the memories she absorbed. Yet, she never felt as lost as he did. Perhaps that was why she kept her distance for now, offering him space to breathe, to work through his feelings in solitude.

Her eyes shimmered faintly as she focused on him, momentarily tuning into the distant fragments of thoughts and memories that surrounded him, but she didn't let them overwhelm her. Elara's magic was a tool, not a crutch, and she kept it controlled, much like she did with her emotions. She preferred to be present for others in ways that didn't feel invasive, offering only what was needed in the moment.

With a quiet step forward, she closed the distance, her presence now undeniable. Her delicate features were softened by the rain, yet her eyes still burned with that inner strength that contrasted the grace of her movements. She wore the pendant around her neck—an old keepsake from her father—and the simple silver chain caught the light as it glinted in the overcast gloom.

"You know, you're wasting your energy," Elara said softly, her voice carrying over the sound of the rain. "There's plenty of wood to go around. Don't exhaust yourself on just one pile."

Her words weren't teasing, but there was a lightness to them, a familiarity between them that spoke of their growing bond. She tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful yet gentle. "You could use a break, Darius. It's not just the wood that needs to be chopped. Sometimes, it's the thoughts in your head that need a little clearing."

Darius didn't stop his work immediately, but the faintest pause in his next strike betrayed that he had heard her. She had a way of reaching him, without pushing, always understanding the right moment to speak.

Her blue eyes watched him, not with judgment, but with the quiet support that had become second nature between them.

Darius paused, his axe still raised mid-swing as he turned toward her. The soft rain misted his face, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was something about Elara that made everything feel a little less heavy, a little easier to bear. Her presence grounded him, like the rain softening the harsh edges of the world around them.

"You're right," he said, his voice low but warm, the weight of his thoughts lifting with the simple truth of her words. "I get a little... carried away sometimes."

The smile lingered as he dropped the axe to the ground, the rhythmic thud silenced by the sound of water dripping from the trees around them. His body still felt the power of his Titanbound Physique, but for once, he didn't feel the need to prove anything to anyone—not even to himself.

Elara's eyes softened as she stepped forward, her smile matching his own. Without another word, she turned and led the way through the dense trees, her movements light and fluid, like she had danced through the rain for years. Darius followed closely, the familiar comfort of her presence settling over him.

They walked in silence, the forest around them lush and vibrant despite the downpour. The path wound through towering trees, their trunks thick and sturdy, and after a few minutes of walking, they reached a small cabin nestled in the woods, almost hidden by the surrounding foliage. It was simple but welcoming, a place where Elara had often taken refuge when the weight of her magic or the world felt too much.

The scent of cedarwood and wet earth filled the air as they stepped inside. Elara quickly lit a small fire in the hearth, the crackling flames casting a warm glow across the rustic interior. Darius leaned against the wall, watching her with quiet appreciation, as she worked with practiced ease.

"Thank you," Darius said after a moment, his voice quieter now as he took a seat by the fire. "For... everything. I don't think I say that enough."

Elara glanced over her shoulder, her eyes catching his with that mix of warmth and understanding. "You don't have to," she replied, her tone as gentle as the rain falling outside. "You've got enough on your plate already. But I'm always here, Darius. You know that, right?"

Darius nodded, the weight of her words settling deep within him. There was something comforting in her presence, something that made him believe, even if just for a moment, that he wasn't alone in this struggle.

The fire crackled, the sound of rain against the roof like a soothing lullaby as they sat in companionable silence, knowing that no words were needed to understand the bond they shared.

Darius stood, his muscles tense as he crossed the room. The knock on the door had come unexpectedly, interrupting the quiet, peaceful moment he'd been sharing with Elara. He hesitated just before his hand reached for the doorknob, his sharp instincts kicking in.

Through the thin walls of the cabin, he could faintly hear two male voices, low and muffled, but enough for him to catch the tone. It was unfamiliar and tense, the kind of exchange that made his instincts flare. There was something in their voices—a sense of urgency, perhaps, or maybe suspicion—that made Darius pause.

He glanced over at Elara, who was sitting by the hearth, her gaze fixed on him, her expression unreadable but attentive. She must have sensed the shift in the air as well. Darius motioned toward the door subtly with his head, silently asking if she could feel anything amiss. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest shimmer in them hinting at the use of her magic to sense the people outside. She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, her lips pressing together in a line of concern.

Darius exhaled slowly and stood taller, his thoughts racing. Whoever these men were, they weren't here for a casual visit. He knew that much instinctively. He couldn't help but wonder if they had come for him—or if they were looking for someone else entirely.

He took a step closer to the door, just out of view of whoever might be standing on the other side. His fingers flexed at his sides, ready for anything. With a glance at Elara, he nodded to her silently, signaling that he was going to open the door. She watched him, her hand resting lightly on the pendant around her neck, an anchor to herself in the moment of uncertainty.

Darius reached for the doorknob again, his heart beating faster now, not from fear, but from the heightened alertness of the situation. The low voices outside grew clearer as he approached, and he caught snippets of their conversation:

"He's here, no doubt about it. We can't leave without him."

"We can't risk it. What if he's too dangerous?"

The hairs on the back of Darius's neck stood on end. The mention of "he" and "dangerous" was enough to set off every alarm in his head. Whoever they were, they were after him—or something he had no intention of giving up.

With a final glance at Elara, Darius made his decision. He opened the door, but only a crack, his body blocking the full view of the outside world as he peered out cautiously.

As Darius fully opened the door, the cool, damp air rushed in, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked earth. Standing before him were two knights, both dressed in heavy armor, their helmets slightly askew as if they had been rushing. They froze at the sight of him, their hands instinctively hovering near the hilts of their weapons, ready to draw, though their stances were tense and uncertain.

Both knights looked more shaken than prepared for a fight. Their eyes darted nervously over Darius's figure, noting the sheer presence of his build, the faint but unmistakable aura of power that clung to him like a storm waiting to break. One of them, a younger-looking knight with a dark brown beard, was the first to speak, his voice tight with apprehension.

"Darius Kael?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly despite his attempt to sound authoritative.

Darius said nothing at first, his blue-grey eyes cold and focused, scanning them for any sign of a threat. They weren't making any aggressive moves, but the way they stood—both a little too rigid, a little too cautious—spoke volumes. They were nervous. Scared, even.

Elara's presence behind him was steady, her eyes narrowing as she took in the knights' uneasy posture. She stepped closer to Darius, silently asking him to be careful, her instincts telling her that something wasn't right.

The second knight, an older man with graying hair and sharp features, cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "We—we didn't mean to intrude," he said quickly, his eyes flickering nervously between Darius and the cabin behind him. "We were told you were here, and we... we need your help."

Darius tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. He didn't move an inch, not trusting the situation yet. "Help?" he repeated, his voice steady but tinged with suspicion. "Who are you? And why would I help you?"

The young knight shifted uncomfortably, his fingers twitching near his sword. The older knight seemed to take a deep breath, perhaps trying to calm himself before speaking again.

"It's... the kingdom," the older knight said, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "There's been an attack. We've lost contact with the capital. The king's forces are missing, and we fear there may be more coming. We... we need someone strong. Someone who can protect us, protect the people. And you—your abilities..."

Darius's muscles tensed at the mention of his powers. He wasn't one to seek the spotlight, especially not for his Titanbound Physique. He was used to being an outcast because of the very thing that made him a target. But the urgency in their eyes made it clear that whatever was happening, it was serious. Too serious for them to be bluffing.

"I'm not a soldier," Darius said bluntly, his voice unwavering, "and I don't take orders from anyone."

The younger knight took a step forward, his hand still hovering near his weapon. "Please," he said, his voice pleading now. "We don't know who else to turn to. We just need your strength. We've heard stories of what you can do... You could save the kingdom, Darius."

Elara, who had been watching carefully, stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. "I think you've said enough." Her eyes locked onto the knights, her magical energy subtly radiating from her. She wasn't showing her full power, but the slight glow in her eyes was enough to make them pause. "If you want help, you need to be more honest with us. What's really going on?"

The knights exchanged a glance, their fear palpable, but they didn't immediately speak.

Darius stood there, unmoving, contemplating the words they'd shared. The kingdom was in danger—his instinct to protect kicked in. But was this truly what it appeared to be? Or was there something else at play here?

"I'll come," he said finally, his voice low, but firm. "But I won't be your pawn. Tell me everything you know, or I walk."

The older knight nodded quickly, relief flooding his face. He glanced at the younger knight, who still seemed uneasy but nodded as well.

"There's more," the older knight said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The attack... wasn't just from invaders. There's something else. Something... darker, moving through the kingdom. Something we can't control."

Darius's jaw clenched. This wasn't just an ordinary attack. There was something far more sinister at play.

With a glance at Elara, Darius turned back to the knights. "Lead the way."

The journey from the cabin to the kingdom's gates had been swift, the knights leading Darius and Elara through the dense forest paths that gradually gave way to the outskirts of the kingdom. The air had shifted, carrying with it a tension that Darius couldn't shake. Every step closer to the gates felt like they were heading into a storm, and it wasn't just the weather that made his instincts flare.

As they neared the gates, Darius could see the faint outline of the kingdom's fortifications, normally a symbol of safety and order. But now, the walls were scarred—damaged by something far stronger than the typical skirmishes the kingdom had faced. The knights quickened their pace, their eyes darting nervously to the walls as if expecting something to burst through at any moment.

Then, as they reached the gates, the distant sound of shouting carried on the wind, followed by the unmistakable thud of heavy footsteps. Elara's hand instinctively moved to the pendant around her neck, her fingers brushing the smooth surface as her blue eyes scanned the area, alert for any signs of danger.

Without warning, a monstrous figure charged from behind the gates, its heavy, thudding footsteps shaking the ground. An orc—huge and grotesque, with a twisted, brutal appearance—came barreling toward Darius, its eyes wide with fury and its tusks bared. The beast was armed with a crude, jagged axe, which it swung wildly as it closed the distance.

The knights froze in fear, stepping back instinctively. The young knight cursed under his breath, fumbling for his weapon, while the older knight raised his sword defensively, but it was clear they were no match for the orc's sheer size and ferocity.

Darius didn't hesitate. His body seemed to move before his mind could catch up. The moment the orc swung its massive axe in a deadly arc, Darius surged forward. His muscles rippled as the power of his Titanbound Physique flooded his body, a wave of strength that made him move with the speed of a predator.

With a single, precise strike, Darius swung his arm, his fist meeting the orc's massive axe with a force that sent shockwaves through the air. The impact caused a reverberating crack, and the orc's weapon was knocked from its hands, sending it flying through the air.

The orc staggered, momentarily stunned, its enraged roar turning into a guttural growl as it regained its footing. It lunged at Darius with surprising speed, claws extended, but Darius was already on the move. His feet barely touched the ground as he closed the distance, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick to the orc's chest. The force was enough to send the creature crashing back into the stone wall of the gate, leaving a deep dent where it hit.

Darius didn't stop to admire his work. His breathing was steady, but his senses were razor-sharp, scanning for any more threats. He stood between the fallen orc and the knights, his body still humming with energy.

"Is that the best you've got?" Darius muttered under his breath, his eyes never leaving the orc, which was struggling to rise. It wasn't dead, but it was certainly out of commission for now.

Elara stepped forward, her eyes glowing faintly as she surveyed the scene. "You've made a statement, Darius," she said, her voice calm but carrying a trace of amusement. "But we should expect more of these, I'm guessing."

The older knight, who had been standing frozen in awe, now took a hesitant step forward, his sword still raised. "Th-thank you," he stammered. "We... we didn't know what was happening. It's like they're... everywhere."

Darius's expression hardened. "Then we need to find out who's behind this and stop them, before more of these creatures show up."

The younger knight swallowed hard, looking past Darius at the orc still struggling to get back on its feet. "There are more inside the gates," he said, his voice trembling. "We couldn't hold them back. We... we need reinforcements."

Darius clenched his fists, feeling the power in his body ready to explode once again. "Then let's get inside. We'll make sure they don't get past us."

Elara stood beside him, a quiet strength in her gaze. "Together," she added, her tone unwavering.

Darius turned toward the gates, the path now clear of immediate threats. With the orc momentarily out of the fight, he took a step forward, ready to face whatever waited on the other side. The battle had just begun, and Darius was determined not to let his kingdom fall—not while he still had the strength to fight.

The chaos inside the kingdom gates was unlike anything Darius had ever seen. As he, Elara, and the knights pushed through the entrance, they were met with a scene of utter devastation—buildings burned, smoke rising from collapsed structures, and the sounds of battle echoing through the streets. Orcs, goblins, and other grotesque creatures swarmed the area, attacking anyone they came across. The kingdom's soldiers were fighting valiantly, but their efforts were clearly outmatched.

Darius's instincts kicked in, and he moved with lightning speed, pushing past the knights and charging into the fray. His Titanbound Physique allowed him to take down any enemy in his path with a single strike, sending orcs and goblins flying with bone-crushing punches or powerful kicks. Elara was right behind him, her agility and quick thinking allowing her to assist, using her Soul Echoes magic to absorb the combat skills she needed to adapt and defend.

But as they moved deeper into the kingdom, the intensity of the battle grew. Darius was focused, his sharp blue-grey eyes scanning the battlefield for any threats. However, his concentration faltered for a split second.

That was all it took.

Out of nowhere, something heavy slammed into Darius from the side—so forcefully that the impact sent him flying through the air, crashing into the side of a nearby building. The world spun around him, his vision blurring for a moment. He shook his head to clear the fog and quickly pushed himself to his feet, his body aching but resilient. His enhanced muscles screamed in protest from the collision, but his resolve was unwavering.

He didn't have time to think. As he stood, his eyes caught a massive, hulking figure—the creature that had struck him. An ogre, towering over him, its hide thick and mottled like ancient stone. It growled low, its broad, heavy fists raised to strike again.

But before Darius could react, a cry rang out from behind him. His heart skipped a beat as he turned, only to see Elara, who had been fighting alongside him, knocked off her feet by another of the ogre's strikes. Her body was thrown like a ragdoll, her form twisting midair before crashing to the ground with an audible thud. She didn't move.

"Damn it!" Darius shouted, his heart pounding in his chest.

The ogre that had struck him roared in triumph, clearly expecting him to be incapacitated. It raised its club, ready to strike again, but Darius wasn't about to let it have its way. His body surged with power, and he launched himself back into the fray, barreling toward the ogre with the force of a charging bull.

But his focus was divided. Elara had fallen, and the sight of her lying motionless on the ground ignited a fire in his chest. He didn't care about the fight anymore. He didn't care about anything except getting to her.

As the ogre swung its massive weapon, Darius evaded the blow with remarkable speed, moving just out of its reach. His body thrummed with energy as he pushed through the pain from the earlier strike, every muscle in his body aching to be unleashed. He focused on the ogre's weak points, knowing he couldn't afford to waste time.

But all that mattered now was Elara. His eyes flicked to where she lay, unmoving.

"Elara!" he shouted, his voice raw with urgency. His Titanbound Physique flared again, propelling him faster, harder, until he reached her.

He knelt beside her, his heart racing as he checked for any sign of life. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, but she was unconscious, the blow she'd taken clearly enough to knock her out cold.

"Stay with me," Darius murmured, his voice strained as he gently shook her, trying to rouse her.

His thoughts were a whirlwind. The kingdom was under siege, the knights were still struggling, and Elara—his only source of calm in this chaos—was lying there, vulnerable.

The ogre had recovered and was bearing down on him, its eyes narrowed in fury. But Darius didn't flinch. He stood, his body already in motion as he scooped Elara into his arms. He wasn't about to let her be a casualty of this battle.

With one final glance toward the ogre, Darius took off, his strength propelling him with inhuman speed, narrowly dodging the ogre's swings. He wasn't running from the fight, but he needed to get her to safety—just long enough to regroup.

The knights, still fighting valiantly, seemed to notice the shift in the battle, and Darius gave a single, urgent shout. "Cover me!"

His mind was focused solely on Elara now, on getting her to safety, on making sure she didn't slip away from him while the world around them descended into chaos. As he ran, his heart pounded in his chest—not from fear, but from a desperate need to protect her.

Darius reached a small, fortified area behind a series of stone walls, a temporary shelter where the kingdom's remaining soldiers were trying to regroup. His heart pounded furiously as he lowered Elara gently to the ground, the weight of her unconscious body weighing heavily on him. His hands shook as he cupped her face, desperately checking for any signs of a deeper injury.

Blood—Elara's blood—stained his hands, still warm and vivid against his skin. The crimson against his calloused palms made his stomach churn, a dark rage beginning to build inside him, an uncontrollable heat that radiated from his core.

She had been hurt because of him. He had failed to protect her when it mattered most, and now he was paying the price.

Elara's blood was everywhere, soaking through her clothes where the ogre had struck. Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive, still clinging to life, though barely. The fact that she was still breathing was the only thing that kept Darius from losing himself entirely to the fury swelling inside him.

His chest tightened as he watched her struggle for breath. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, louder than the sounds of battle raging outside. His vision darkened at the edges as the fury clouded his thoughts. The familiar power of his Titanbound Physique surged within him, raw and unchecked.

The need to destroy—to rip apart the things that had caused her pain—was overwhelming. He could hear the ogres' roars, the crash of destruction, but all he could focus on was Elara's blood on his hands, the helplessness he felt as she lay there, defenseless.

A guttural growl escaped his throat, a sound of pure rage. He looked around, eyes scanning for anything he could use, anything that might bring him closer to the one responsible. His muscles tensed with a primal instinct to protect, and without another thought, he stood up, his hands clenched into fists, ready to rip through the enemies who had dared to harm her.

"Stay with me, Elara," he whispered, his voice trembling as he touched her forehead gently. "I'll make them pay for this. I won't let this be the end."

But in that moment, he was pulled back by the sharp, clear voice of the older knight, who appeared suddenly, rushing to Darius's side.

"Darius!" the knight called out urgently, his face grim. "We need to go. We can't stay here. The creatures will overrun this position if we don't move!"

Darius barely registered the knight's words. His eyes were locked on Elara, her pale face, her blood staining his hands, the weight of what had happened crashing down on him.

"Not until she's safe," Darius growled, his voice hoarse, a dangerous edge to it.

The knight hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes as he glanced around, the sounds of orcs and ogres growing louder. "We need to fall back, Darius. We can't afford to lose you as well. We need you in the fight."

Darius turned on the knight with a fierce, unwavering glare. His rage was bubbling over, a raw power threatening to explode. "I won't leave her," he snapped, voice low and dangerous, like a storm waiting to break.

The older knight, seeing the fire in Darius's eyes, hesitated again but then nodded. "Then we fight here, together. But we can't waste time. There's more coming, and the kingdom needs its protector."

Elara's breathing was faint, but she was still alive. That was all that mattered right now. Darius couldn't afford to lose control—not yet. He needed to focus, to rein in the anger that was threatening to tear him apart.

With a last glance at Elara, he stood straighter, his muscles still burning with energy, the power of his Titanbound Physique coursing through him. His resolve hardened. His enemies wouldn't get away with this. He'd make sure of it.

He looked at the knight, the battle raging all around them. "Then let's finish this."

Darius stepped forward, his focus sharpening, his rage now channeled into a singular purpose: to protect the people of the kingdom, to defend the only person who mattered right now—Elara.

Darius's vision blurred with rage, his entire body thrumming with the overwhelming power of his Titanbound Physique. He grabbed a jagged piece of broken metal lying nearby—likely the remains of a shattered weapon or piece of armor—and gripped it tightly, the sharp edges cutting into his palm. He didn't care. Pain didn't matter. The only thing that mattered now was the surge of fury driving him forward.

He sprinted out of the temporary shelter like a bolt of lightning, his movements a blur as he closed the distance between himself and the horde of orcs swarming the streets. Their guttural growls and jeers were like fuel to the fire raging inside him. The memories of Elara lying helpless on the ground, her blood staining his hands, burned in his mind.

One of the orcs, a hulking brute armed with a crude spiked club, turned just in time to see Darius charging at him. The creature barely had time to react before Darius leaped into the air, the piece of metal in his hand gleaming in the dim, smoke-filled light.

With a roar of pure anger, Darius brought the makeshift weapon down with devastating force. The strike cleaved through the orc's club and embedded itself deep into its chest, the impact so powerful it sent the creature crashing into the ground, lifeless.

But Darius didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

Another orc lunged at him from the side, swinging a rusted axe aimed at his head. Darius twisted his body with inhuman speed, the blade grazing past him. He retaliated instantly, slamming his elbow into the orc's face, shattering its jaw with a sickening crunch. Before the creature could fall, he spun and kicked it with enough force to send it flying into a nearby wall, the stone crumbling from the impact.

More of the creatures began to converge on him, their confidence faltering as they saw the raw power he wielded. Darius moved like a storm, the piece of metal in his hand a blur as he tore through the orcs with precision and fury. Each strike was fueled by his rage, each movement efficient and deadly.

The battlefield around him seemed to slow as his Titanbound Physique pushed his body to its limits. He darted between the enemies, striking with a ferocity that left no room for retaliation. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, his strikes leaving trails of destruction in his wake.

In the chaos, he caught sight of the ogre that had struck Elara. It towered over the other creatures, its grotesque form illuminated by the glow of nearby fires. Its deep, rumbling growl was a taunt, daring him to come closer.

Darius's eyes locked onto it, his rage boiling over. The piece of metal in his hand dripped with orc blood as he began to march toward the ogre, his every step heavy with purpose.

"You," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll regret ever laying a hand on her."

The ogre roared, raising its massive club high, ready to strike. But Darius didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on the makeshift weapon, his muscles coiling as his Titanbound Physique flared to its peak.

With a powerful leap, he launched himself at the ogre, his roar echoing across the battlefield. The piece of metal in his hand gleamed as he swung it with all his strength, aiming to bring down the monster that had dared to harm Elara.

Darius hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, his vision swimming as the world around him blurred. The pain came in waves, an agonizing, searing heat that seemed to consume him. He gasped for air, his chest heaving as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His mind raced, but nothing made sense—one moment, he was charging the ogre, and the next, he was on the ground.

When he finally managed to glance down, the sight stole the breath from his lungs.

His legs were gone.

Blood pooled beneath him, soaking the dirt and stone in a dark, spreading stain. His lower half ended in jagged, mangled stumps just below his knees. The realization hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned, unable to process the full scope of his injuries.

Darius's hands trembled as he instinctively reached out, trying to pull himself backward, away from the battlefield, away from the carnage. The pain was unbearable, a fiery, raw agony that threatened to send him into unconsciousness. But he refused to let the darkness take him—not yet.

His sharp blue-grey eyes darted around wildly, searching for answers. What had hit him? How had he been so careless? His mind replayed the last few moments: the ogre raising its club, his leap toward it, and then—nothing. A blur, a flash of something, and then the pain.

The sound of heavy, guttural breathing snapped him back to the present. The ogre loomed over him, its massive form silhouetted against the flames of the burning kingdom. . .