A hundred archers stood along the edge of the large open column with stairs spiraling to the bottom of the tower. Their bowstrings coursed with tension as the fibers quivered beneath their might. The few cannons they had were angled downward with their iron maws aimed at the golems stampeding along the steps.

  Jones stared at Liam, nervously gulping at the sight before them. His heart was pounding in his chest, watching as the enemy forces crossed the second and third floors. There were only three floors left until they reached theirs. About eighty to a hundred meters of vertical height.

  “It is not time yet,” Brian declared. “Hold for my signal.”

  “Yes, sir,” Liam responded with a curt nod.

  Brian focused on the stone creatures flailing their limbs forward. Right now, his men were salvaging whatever could be of use from their fallen foes. Broken magic cores, mana crystals, and spare blades. All the necessary equipment for them to stall as long as possible. Just so that their comrades above could prevail.

  A slight shiver escaped his fingertips. Brian glanced down at his trembling hand before tightly curling it into a fist. They had limited munitions. Limited aura. There was no room for error. Every shot they took had to count. Not taking down one or two or even five foes at a time, but dozens.

  Once they had crossed seventy meters, Brian held out a fist pointed upright in the air.

  “Steady!” Liam shouted.

  His voice echoed in the ears of those around him in the vast stone chamber. The sound of a hundred bows getting pulled back reverberated through the chamber. Arrows were nocked in place and cannons aimed at key points of the spiraling stairwell.

  Sixty meters passed, and with that, Brian swung his arm down.

  “Fire!” Liam roared, unleashing a volley of projectiles that thundered against the cold stone tiles. A series of eruptions followed, with the line firing one after another. Ten cannonballs hurled through the air, ripping the limbs off the stone creatures and tearing holes through the winding staircase. Smoke rose, blocking their vision, but the men were already prepared.

  Jones took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Archer’s loose!”

  His words released a thick swarm of aura-clad arrows that soared down into the bodies of golems. All shots punched clean holes through their inanimate frames. Shoulders and torsos ruptured with wooden shafts, shattering after puncturing several foes. The aura-clad arrows weakened with each hit. Some lodged uselessly in the rock while sparks flew where iron tips struck the reinforced surfaces.

  The sound echoed up the stairwell in sharp and ringing clangs. Dust was forcefully blown downward. Wind contractors joined hands, conjuring vortexes of powerful gusts. Soon, a sharp snap followed, with flames racing along the current. And in an instant, a blazing inferno roared towards the ground level like a mighty breath of a dragon.

  Yet, even with hundreds of golems dead, the advance continued.

  “Again!” Brian ordered with a powerful voice that drowned out the thundering cannons.

  The archers adjusted their bows, aiming not for mass or joints, but for the greatest effect. There wasn’t a point in killing the golems. They just needed to buy time. And this time, arrows punched into narrow gaps of layered stone. Between elbows, knees, and whatever line of vulnerable parts that would take down the most amount of foes and send their flailing bodies back to the godforsaken earth it came from.

  One golem’s chest staggered back as an arm crumbled into dust. Its claws grinding against the stone. The crimson eyes locked onto the Everheart soldiers, and a grueling shriek escaped its jagged jaw. But then came another arrow, breaking its other forearm in a spray of fragments before the creature fell from where it climbed.

  In a matter of minutes, the staircase became a funnel of death.

  Arrows rained down in relentless waves as cannons fired in unison. Projectiles ricocheted off walls, buried themselves in cracked masonry, or tore bodies that climbed over each other. In the confined space, sound was amplified with every movement—the twang of bowstrings, the roar of cannons, and the shrieking of golems dragged across the stone walls of the column.

  Yet, even with the stone bodies piling together, forming a mountain of debris at the base of the tower. None of the men cheered. They readied their weapons once more, nocking arrows while steadying their breaths. Eyes fixed downward at the swirls of dust because in the tower’s darkness, something below was already beginning to rise.

  Max stood there with his eyes fixed on the lone knight approaching from the stairwell. A scoff escaped his lips. He gestured to the other Lionheart knights to gather around him. The Lionheart knights took the lead, passing Tucker and the other men of the Everheart ranks.

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  “Leave this to us,” he said. “We’ll deal with these bastards as you guys move on ahead.”

  Hemlock snickered. “You fuckers really are all the same. Do you truly think you can get past us that easily?”

  The Empire’s champion raised his arm and cut down. A squadron of enemy knights emerged from the floor above, answering his call. They all wore the same darkened silver armor as Hemlock, green veins pulsing along the surface. Yet seeing the arrogant attitude of the enemies before him, Max couldn’t help but chuckle.

  His expression hardened, and the sharp glare in his eyes landed on the men. All the Lionheart knights stood in defiance of the overwhelming aura that pressed against their bodies. Max gathered a golden aura into his greatsword once more. Its lumenite surface radiated a dazzling light. Every trace of darkness in the chamber vanished.

  But what happened next caught Hemlock by surprise. With one hand, the captain of the Lionheart knights thrust his blade proudly into the air. Just above the man’s head, the golden light surged upwards at an angle as an ethereal greatsword manifested from Max’s body. It roared with thunderous momentum as it struck the eight-meter-tall ceiling above their heads.

  The tower shook. Stones fell from above with a heavy thud, slamming into the enemy forces that were just below the gaping hole that had been created. Tucker stared at Max, their eyes meeting as the knight glanced over his shoulder and delivered a firm nod filled with resolve. Even after the strike had been completed, the golden greatsword made of aura remained. Creating a makeshift bridge for them to cross onto the next floor.

  “Go on without us,” Max said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  Tucker gritted his teeth and nodded. “Best of luck.”

  The men stepped onto the ethereal greatsword, with Tucker leading the advance force. Ray wore a pained expression, seeing the group of Lionheart knights prepare to face off against the Empire’s knights, but there was nothing for him to do.

  “Godspeed,” Ray said.

  With the men climbing up the spine of the ethereal greatsword, Hemlock glared at the order of knights before him. His hand reached for the javelin strapped to his belt. Aura gathered in his palms in a tight, blinding spiral. Without wasting a second, he pulled his arm back and took a step forward, hurling the projectile as it tore through the air like a comet.

  Violet light was compressed into a single point, screaming forward with enough force to shatter the aura bridge in half. The ground leading to the Everheart party split with cracks rupturing outwards as the shot barreled toward Tucker and his men.

  But then something moved.

  From the line of Lionheart knights, another aura surged. It ignited in a different color, heavier in presence, and launched with an intent that sought to demolish whatever came in its path. A dense bolt of power spun over as it crossed the distance in a heartbeat. Before Hemlock could even comprehend what had happened, the two forces met in midair.

  The collision detonated with a concussive crack as if the sky itself had been struck. Light erupted outward from the center with a violent bloom of clashing energy. Shockwaves rippled like cracks of lightning until the original projectile buckled. Its shape wrapped as the opposing aura carved into it, shattering the javelin’s frame in a demonstration of force.

  Fragments of raw aura fell onto the battlefield like broken glass, and from it, Max grinned. He locked eyes with Hemlock as the Lionheart knight by his side slowly brought the outstretched hand that had thrown the projectile.

  And seeing this, Hemlock understood the message that was conveyed.

  You won’t reach them that easily.

  Max took a step forward with the Lionheart knights proudly following. Their rectangular helms and azure cloaks bearing the insignia of their home swayed with each step. Plate armor shifted as one, with black iron plates sliding with a low rasp. The ground trembled beneath the weight of their aura. There were still sixty meters between the two opposing armies. But once the Lionheart knights passed the fifty-meter mark, their auras surged forth like a tide.

  Their bodies roared with energy, and in the blink of an eye, fifty meters were crossed. Streaks of gold met violet as both formations crossed blades. The impact thundered throughout the terrain. Metal slammed into metal as the two forces collided head-on. The force of trained bodies and reinforced armor crashed together like opposing tides, with neither side yielding.

  The Empire’s knights were driven back a step, their boots scraping furrows into the stone and rubble as the momentum from the Lionheart knights bit deeper. Blades were deflected and brought back in tight arcs without a single wasted movement. There was no chaos, only violence with structure.

  While the Empire’s knights fought alone, the Everheart knights fought in tight pairs and trios, covering one another without a word. Swords punched into joints and slid beneath pauldrons. Few of them used shields, but the Lionheart knights had already locked onto their prey. One of them hooked onto the shield and ripped it aside to create an opening that was exploited instantly.

  The Empire’s knight fell, and another stepped into his place right before the body fell. He returned a strike at the Lionheart knight as the blade scraped the side of the man’s rectangular helm. Yet all the foe saw was a blazing golden light emitting from the rectangular slit of the helm.

  There was no retreat.

  A shiver coursed through the enemy knight. Before he could move a muscle, a flash of gold sliced through the air, severing his head in one decisive strike. Neither side gave ground, and the clash became a brutal brawl of strength, with men placing their lives on the line.

  Every strike had meaning. Sparks burst with each blow, flashing between helms as visors were lowered and eyes met at arm’s length. Yet in the middle of this organized chaos stood two figures: the captain of the Lionheart knights, Max Maystone, and the Empire’s champion, Hemlock Godwin.

  Two six-star aura users carrying different burdens. One with the hopes of his brothers to protect a future that was slipping through their hands, and another who dreamed of nothing more than to climb onto a mountain of corpses to see the summit of aura users.

  Their blades clashed as Max swung his greatsword down from the heavens, with Hemlock skillfully deflecting the blow to the side with sparks igniting along the edge. Above them, their ethereal knights of gold and violet clashed. Shockwaves surged outward in tides with each strike. The men who were nearby were blown aside, shielding their bodies from the sheer force emitted by the two.

  “Do you really think they’ll be able to win?” Hemlock sneered.

  Max glared at him and smirked. “Think? I know they’ll win.”

  Hemlock’s gaze sharpened as he burst out into laughter with a sinister grin. He pointed his sword at Max. “You’re greatly mistaken if you think that worthless trash has the capabilities to win.”

  Max’s expression hardened at those words. “We’ll see about that.”