The walls of Spawnhold, once filled with shouting orders and scattered panic, had fallen into an unnatural silence.
All eyes were on the battlefield.
Thousands of soldiers, siege weapons, and enemies pushed back… by one man.
The wind carried the sound of metal clashing and bones breaking. But up here, it felt like the world had stopped.
Young Commander Aki, who once sneered at the idea of trusting a farmer, leaned forward, gripping the edge of the battlement.
His lips parted. A whisper slipped out.
"He's… pushing them back."
No one answered at first. Most couldn't.
General Marvik, ever proud, ever composed, was slack-jawed.
"That's… not normal. How is there someone like that?" he said, voice low. "What is he? He's insane…"
Beside him, Elder Simon watched with calm eyes, as if he had been expecting this all along.
"No," Simon said. "He's not insane. He's the storm they weren't ready for."
