“Fire!” Tucker released a furious battle cry and swung his sword forward as the iron maws of the cannons erupted at the enemy forces.

  In one unified moment, the cannons all thundered at once, releasing a volley of projectiles into the stone golems. Smoke spewed from the barrels with each iron round, tearing the limbs off the inanimate objects in one fell swoop. Fragments of stone infused with mana fell. Mages who couldn’t escape bled, and the start of the Everheartians’ advance began.

  “Stick together, we’ll punch a hole straight through the center!” Tucker ordered, his men forming a tight-knit wall of interlocking rectangular shields.

  The steel wall bore the insignia not of the Order, not of the Knight organizations, but of their home. The Everheart Kingdom, with four silver stars surrounding a crown. Metal spears that once pointed skyward descended, aimed directly at the Empire’s forces as the men from the Iron Coffins marched onward.

  The cannons manned by their crew stayed on the Iron Coffins, providing ranged support as volleys hammered against the Empire’s ranks. Yet no matter how many shells erupted against the golems’ stone bodies, the foes continued to rush toward the Everheartian lines like an unstoppable tidal wave of carnage.

  Max and the other knights stood behind the wall of shields, fixing their gazes on the crimson glows emitting from the creature’s eyes. Each of them was exactly the same as the ones they encountered in Stafford, the very same ones that sought to tear the walls.

  Tucker glared at the sea of earth rushing towards them. He gritted his teeth and held out one arm while channeling his spirit essence. “Hold the line!”

  “Form ranks and hold!” Max echoed.

  The orders rang through their lines one after another with men steadying themselves as they planted the large rectangular shields into the tiles of the marble floor. They planted their steel boots firmly on the ground, spears pointed at the waves of debris clawing toward them with gazes sharp with determination.

  Together, they screamed and repeated the order.

  Tucker drew his other hand back, pulling on the thread of wind connecting to his ethereal bow. In an instant, he channeled a projectile with layers of hundreds of thin needles held together by his aura. A soft thrum escaped. The arrow arced through the air. The emerald aura dissipated as the thin projectiles broke free and rained down on the golems.

  The wind attack blanketed the area before the Everheart forces. Shards of stone plastered the floor. Each thin needle punched clean holes through the golems. Craters formed beneath the enemy forces, yet the onslaught continued with crumbling hands latching on top of the fallen bodies, rushing toward them in wide, powerful strides.

  Arrow after arrow, Tucker released hell with the other archers that emerged from the depths of the Iron Coffins. Flashes of aura streaked the sky, leaving bright trails of color that pierced through the structured magic spells descending upon the men. Mana shattered into faint traces like azure leaves falling from tall trees.

  Tucker’s gaze fell on Max, who understood the full extent of the situation. The Lionheart knight took a step forward, greatsword in hand. His breath steadied as the men forming the shield wall parted. Even without words, Max knew what was needed. He gripped the hilt of his weapon, a golden aura flaring as the muscles in his arms tensed with a power befitting his rank.

  There was no point in having their men die against the wall of stone. They needed to preserve the overall fighting potential of their force and regroup with those on the lower levels. The blazing aura enveloped his weapon, roaring like a beast that was waiting to be unleashed.

  The men watched as Max stood at the forefront. Spells screamed toward him, only for Tucker to snipe each one down. The mana and essence unraveled into fading spirals before they could land. The sound of raging flames whisked away by the calm winds of essence instilled confidence in the men, knowing that their commander had protected them.

  Yet Max didn’t drop his guard.

  He raised his greatsword, holding it with both hands as the leather of his runic gauntlets stretched over his knuckles. A deep exhale escaped his lips with the strength of his muscles roaring with life. In the blink of an eye, he released a powerful slash unlike anything the men had ever seen.

  A wave of golden light tore across the marble floor. Wherever it passed, the ground answered with jagged spikes erupting in its wake, rippling outward in a sweeping crescent and impaling any foe that dared to draw near. The further the slash traveled, the larger the spikes grew, swelling with each inch of conquered ground.

  Hundreds of golems were split cleanly at the waist, golden spikes punching through their cores as the aura wave devoured the battlefield.

  Before the attack could reach the mages, they thrust their staffs forward, barely conjuring a translucent array of barriers. Light-blue shields rose like proud fortress walls, taking the blunt force of the attack. Cracks spider-webbed across their centers. The impact drove the mages back a single step, then several meters more as they stumbled, fighting to keep their footing and staves upright.

  Tucker’s eyes widened. That single attack had pushed the wave of golems back, through the smoke rolling across the shattered marble. Broken golems fell like fallen statues, their cores dimming as azure light faded from the air.

  The enemy line wavered with mages scrambling and lines of artificial soldiers fracturing. No one on the Emerald Tower’s side had taken command. Their confidence was cracked wide open, and Tucker felt it.

  He leaped to the center, sword in hand. His gaze swept across the battlefield. This was their chance, and without wasting a second, he roared at the top of his lungs.

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  “Now!” he ordered, swinging his sword forward. “Charge forward!”

  His voice echoed among the ranks, and the men responded in kind. Boots hammered against the polished stone with voices rising into a raw, unrestrained battle cry. Men in the second line leveled their spears. Shields rose. Swords were ripped from their sheaths, and hesitation was trampled beneath the Everheart soldiers’ pounding feet.

  Moments ago they were bracing for impact, but not anymore. With the Captain of the Lionheart breaking their formation and the Commander of Ashe rising against the black tide, the men felt it in their hearts. A frantic beat like the drums of war.

  Arrows streaked over their heads. Wind howled as Tucker’s aura ran through their ranks and united their cause. Any spells that rained down on them were taken out by the knights, hurling javelins straight through the core of the spells. While Tucker focused on deflecting the strays and tearing through the gaps in the enemy’s counterfire.

  Every step forward fed the charge.

  Every shout roaring for victory in their hearts.

  And seeing this, the mages staggered. Lines of golems were rushing toward the Everheart forces. In numbers of mixed groups where ranks failed to form.

  “W-what are you doing?! Advance, goddammit!” one mage cried out.

  “No! We need to keep the lines, form the ranks!” another countered.

  The mages scrambled to organize their forces, but voices of command drowned each other out.

  They helplessly watched as aura-clad shields crashed against their forces like thunder. Spears punching clean holes through the center of their lines. Swords carving out pounds of stone that could have easily been flesh.

  Fear gripped them.

  The ground shook beneath the weight of the advance as the men pressed in with Tucker and Max leading the charge. All the soldiers marched, refusing to give the enemy a moment to breathe.

  Spells that should have torn through their ranks were dissipating off their shields. What started as a fierce resistance from the defenders died. Instead, chaos took hold. Every step the enemy retreated, the men pursued. Where their lines faltered, the veterans struck harder, tearing into stone and flesh of whoever they could get their hands on.

  This wasn’t the same group of soldiers backed into a corner in the bastion. One driven by the fear of dying. It was a force that had resolved itself to give their lives for something greater. A belief forged in the flames of their burning home and proven in blood.

  They were done waiting for someone to save them.

  Now they would be the ones to save their home.

  They drove forward step by step while pushing the enemy back beneath the roar of their charge. Golems were cut down one after another until their once proud sea of earth became nothing more than a puddle of dust beneath their metal boots.

  Finally, Tucker could see it. The dozens of mages hiding in the back. The mages who had sold their souls to the devil, all for experimentation rights to advance their research. Their green robes with golden accents fluttered in the wake of death.

  A hint of disgust bit into Tucker’s mind. He watched as one of them turned around to run, but before he could get far, Max hurled a javelin through the air like the crack of lightning. From where the metal rod impaled, the flesh of the mage exploded outward from the sheer force, dyeing the surrounding men in crimson.

  Screams broke out from the Empire’s ranks. They had made good progress, but needed to push further. Tucker gripped the hilt of his blade and stared at Max, who noticed his gaze.

  The knight gave a firm nod, and seeing this, there wasn’t a need for words.

  Tucker charged forth with the wind snapping at his heels. He channeled mana into the soles of his boots, using Swift Stride to navigate the torn battlefield. The spirit essence from his heart surged out, forming a thin thread in the palm of his hand.

  Wind gathered around him like a barrier. His attacks had grown stronger since forming his spirit band, and as he clenched his hand, a spear of wind manifested.

  Shouts erupted from behind, but the rising howl drowned them out. Aura flared along his black iron armor. The runes shimmered in response as the emerald currents wrapped his arms. All around Tucker, the golems turned. Their massive stone heads pivoted in unison with glowing cores burning brighter as they rushed to meet the threat.

  Even if they were creatures born without spirits, they knew how much of a threat Tucker posed. The golems raised their slab-thick arms. Runes glowed on their carved bodies as they prepared to absorb the impact. But it wasn’t enough.

  The spear of wind shot forth from Tucker’s outstretched hand, slamming into the first golem and ripping its upper torso clean off. Yet as the first one fell, it continued. Stone crumbled as one golem after another flew back into its ranks.

  With that one attack, dozens of golems had fallen, but Tucker didn’t stop there. He vaulted over the remains and twisted midair as threads of essence lifted countless shards of stone around him like blades. His figure landed in their midst with all the lifeless eyes focusing on him.

  The golems rushed forth, their limbs flailing in erratic patterns, but after a few steps, the ground detonated. A circular shockwave of wind surged outward. Golems fought back to keep their balance. But that brief moment was enough. All the stone shards rained down around Tucker, piercing through their bodies in an instant.

  His eyes scanned the surroundings, locking onto the mages who flinched as their gazes met. A lance of ice ripped through the air, straight at Tucker, but he simply shrouded his hand in aura and extended it. Wind swirled within his palm, shattering the projectile into bits of snow as frost and ice covered his gauntlets. Before any damage could be done, he crushed the mana and dispersed the flow into the surroundings.

  All of them gasped.

  “Forget it! Just take out their commander!” the mage ordered, his voice strained from all the shouting.

  More golems closed in.

  Tucker scoffed. “You think it’ll be that easy?”

  Tucker slid beneath a stone fist that came down where his head had been. Aura wrapped around his blade as he carved upward. The golem’s core split in two. A shriek of fractured stone reached his ears as he advanced.

  Tucker glanced over his shoulder, watching as the constructs were cut down. Most of the golems had turned their attention to him now. Just as he had planned. Tucker gritted his teeth, pushing harder toward the mages. Their screams and frantic voices were forcing all the golems to rush at him, making them easy targets for his men.

  Aura flared from his soul, and spirit essence rose from his heart. Each strike he landed was precise. Sword marks carved into stone. Wind lances pierce through joints. Every move was calculated for the best effect. Golems that rushed at him in large groups had their legs shattered by sweeping currents of air that ripped the balance from enemies twice his size.

  Tucker wasn’t just advancing. He was breaking their lines from the inside out.

  Behind him, the men roared as they pushed forward, flanking the golems that rushed to their commander without a care in the world. The opening Tucker had torn open with nothing but speed and fury had shifted the momentum completely in their favor.

  All the mages clenched their jaws. There was nothing they could do, and in that single heartbeat. Mana converged into a single mana circle behind them with the characters Ictu engraved in the center. Tucker’s eyes sharpened.

  “You bastards think you can run?” Tucker said.

  His hand shot to the crimson thread of silver coins attached to his hip. Mana coursed through the string. Flickers of energy glowed from the coins, and before the spell could activate, it shattered. Traces of mana descended onto the mages; their eyes wide in shock.

  Yet, before any other emotion could take hold. A shiver ran down their spines. Their gazes landed on Tucker, and then on the men behind him. Fear coursed through their eyes as the sound of stone crumbling, boots thudding, and metal banging filled the area.

  And it was at that moment that their fates were sealed.