Leonard advanced toward the holdfast, indifferent to the blood pooling on the stone. The air was thick with the scent of burning metal and ozone, remnants of Amelia’s magical bombardments. She had done well in clearing the path, but he had expected to encounter more resistance, even accounting for her success. A few hundred men were far from what Pollus had at his disposal.

  He knew the man was inside, barricaded behind layers of defenses, waiting like a cornered beast. The Count would never surrender. He would have to be dragged out or, more likely, killed in a final stand dramatic enough to satisfy the old general.

  The moment they stepped within sight of the holdfast’s doors, the sky ignited.

  A cascade of raw magic poured down from the towers, saturating the air with lethal force. Brilliant arcs of flame, bolts of crackling lightning, and spheres of arcane destruction rained down on the rebels with terrifying speed. Walls of force solidified to crush intruders, and scorching winds turned the stone pathways into molten slag. It was evident that while the traps were intended to thin out the advancing army, this was where the remnants would be annihilated. Or at least, that’s what any reasonable commander would think.

  Count Pollus didn’t possess the raw power necessary to resist the Revolution, but it would be unwise to consider him average—or reasonable. Anyone who spent decades commanding the Death Fort would be highly skilled in unconventional warfare.

  Always another trick. I doubt he thinks this is enough, but that doesn’t mean Pollus isn’t counting on it weakening us.

  Leonard was there to deny them. He raised both hands, calling upon the Light.

  A radiant barrier erupted around his forces, golden and absolute. The spells struck the shield with earth-shattering force, sending ripples across its surface. Some bursts of energy managed to slip around the edges before he could fully set it up, but the empowered soldiers withstood them easily, sufficiently strengthened by Leonard’s magic. The city behind them, however, would not have been as fortunate. Without the barrier, an entire neighborhood of Hassel would have been leveled.

  He truly doesn’t care anymore. If the city burns down, he’ll have deprived us of a major fortress. It’s a win-win for him.

  Minutes dragged on, stretching into eternity. The barrier held, but he needed to reinforce it two more times. He could have cast a more powerful shield spell, but that would have caused nearly as much damage to the surroundings as the barrage.

  This was still more than any previous enemy ambush had achieved. It was evident that Pollus had retained the best and brightest by his side in case he needed to defend the city.

  Leonard’s men stood behind him, waiting and trusting him to lead them through this storm of death. They wouldn’t be swayed by this little light show, not with how much power he had given them.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the bombardment ceased. Silence enveloped the battlefield, broken only by the smoldering armory square left before him. The enemy appeared to have exhausted their reserves— or perhaps they believed they had weakened him enough.

  Leonard did not lower his guard, and his caution was rewarded.

  A shadow slid through his senses, a sickening, familiar wrongness that made his skin crawl. It was a corruption that had no place in the world—an absence rather than a presence. He turned his head slightly, keeping his stance casual, but his entire body was tense.

  Again and again. He really enjoys using powers beyond his understanding, doesn’t he? I don’t even dislike the Count that much, but this is becoming something I can’t ignore. He must be purged, and any stash he has left must go with him.

  Void assassins. Cloaked in darkness deeper than darkness, their bodies blurred the air as they moved, their forms wrapped in artifacts that defied nature. Their weapons, forged in the blood of the abyss, shimmered with an anti-light that consumed existence itself. They had come for him at what they believed was his weakest moment, thinking the shield had drained him.

  He felt no pity for them. The most he could do for them now would be to eradicate their corrupted souls before they could spread that taint.

  Before they could get close enough to strike, Leonard moved. He didn't hesitate or offer any words of warning or mercy. They were filth, tainted beyond redemption, and he would not endure their existence for another moment.

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  Dyeus howled.

  The holy sword blazed with righteous fury as he swung it, slicing through the unnatural darkness that concealed his enemies. The first assassin barely had time to realize his fate before Dyeus severed him from reality, reducing his body to nothingness. The others reacted instantly, vanishing into the folds of their shrouds, but it made no difference.

  Leonard could see them. The Light illuminated them in ways they could not comprehend.

  He lunged, eyes glowing golden and teeth bared. Another assassin attempted to stab him from behind with a void blade aimed at his spine, but Leonard twisted mid-step, swinging Dyeus with centrifugal force. The blade encountered resistance for only a moment before slicing through the assassin’s weapon, his arm, and finally, his very existence. He was unmade, erased from the world.

  The remaining assassins hesitated. They had anticipated an exhausted target but instead encountered a monster. What little humanity was left within them that had yet to be fully absorbed by the Void probably screamed that they stood before an impossible target. A predator of a higher food chain.

  Leonard didn’t allow them to retreat. He didn’t believe this was just another distraction—another way for Pollus to test his abilities and adjust his final surprise. But he didn’t care. Anything touched by the Void had to be erased.

  With a surge of divine speed, he closed the distance. A downward slash cleaved through one assassin before he could blink. Another attempted to dodge, but Leonard seized him by the throat, squeezing hard enough to crack bones before driving Dyeus through his chest, cleansing his tainted soul from existence.

  The last of them attempted to flee, vanishing into a wisp of void energy thanks to his cloak. Leonard raised his hand, summoning a spear of Light, and hurled it with unerring precision. The assassin scarcely had time to scream before he was obliterated.

  The soldiers before were armed with void weapons, but they were still recognizably human. These assassins were too tainted. Pollus must have started the process as soon as word of the Revolution reached him.

  The battlefield was still once more.

  Leonard exhaled slowly, allowing his senses to stretch outward. No more Void taint. No more slithering filth. Good.

  He turned back to his soldiers. They had watched in stunned silence, only vaguely aware of the battle beyond the flashes of gold and the cries of the damned. When he met their eyes, there was no fear—only reverence.

  “Forward,” he ordered, uncompromising. Again, he raised a barrier, knowing better than to expect the surprises to be done.

  Dyeus still burned in his grip, eager and insatiable. Leonard understood that feeling. Pollus had revealed his hand, showing his willingness to use the Void in his desperation. There would be no mercy now.

  It is almost nostalgic, in a way. Back then, things were simpler. I just had to destroy anything in my way. I suppose I must thank Pollus. The Void must have been a tempting weapon for him to wield against me, but it also gives me the perfect justification to erase any trace of the old regime.

  They surged ahead, pushing deeper into the citadel, but once again, their charge was interrupted. A new bombardment of magic rained down, forcing them into defensive formations. Fire, ice, and raw kinetic force struck with precision, designed to maximize destruction. It was somewhat weaker than before, but Leonard did not let his guard slip. He knew better than to fall for the ruse.

  Raising his hand, he strengthened the golden barrier that protected his soldiers and the city beyond. The shield flared, absorbing the impact, but he could already sense the weight of something greater forming ahead.

  Here are the mages Amelia didn’t find. At least this way, we won’t have to waste time chasing them around the city. It would have been frustrating if they had mingled with the civilians.

  The arrogance of the old regime never ceased to aid him.

  Then, a massive and focused spell coalesced, and he had to actually focus on defending his men.

  The citadel's mages had gathered their remaining strength. Leonard could hear them chanting in unison, their voices merging into a singular force of will. The magic they wove was no ordinary spell; it was ancient and designed to devastate entire armies—part of the great tradition of Hetnia’s mages. Leonard narrowed his eyes as the incantation reached its crescendo.

  [King’s Justice.]

  A blinding silver beam erupted from the citadel’s core, a massive lance of raw destruction that cleaved the battlefield in two. It struck Leonard’s barrier with an earth-shaking force. For the first time in a long while, Leonard took a step back.

  It wasn’t fear or even strain—only surprise. He had not expected them to still hold such power. Their reserves should have been nearly depleted, yet here they were, summoning the last remnants of their strength in one final act of defiance.

  So far, any resistance had been dealt with ease, and even the single loss the Revolution had suffered had more to do with cleverness than raw might. The strategic assessment of Hassel’s forces made no mention of this level of magical coordination, and Leonard would know, as he had spent a long time here fighting for his life against the Void. If the locals had been capable of casting Champion tier magic this easily, they would have scoured the region for the Void’s taint without needing to summon a Hero.

  That can only mean two things: either Pollus has somehow managed to rediscover Hetnia’s ancient tradition and has gotten all his loyal mages to spend every waking moment practicing, or someone else is assisting them.

  Leonard had a healthy respect for his enemy, but this was too much. For the few Master mages left behind to be capable of this… No, it was much more likely that the Champion mage that had fled was the actual cause behind it.

  Meanwhile, the barrier cracked, groaning under the pressure of the spell. Still, it held—even against this.

  Then, above the roar of power, a voice from within the citadel cried out. “What now, Weiss? Do you beg us to surrender once again?”

  Leonard laughed. A deep, full-throated roar that carried over the battlefield.

  “No,” he called back, effortlessly reaching every man. “But it is only polite to recognize the dead their due.”

  The magic did not waver. They would not be swayed by words alone.

  Leonard’s laughter faded, and his expression hardened. He lifted Dyeus high, the sacred blade shimmering with barely contained radiance.

  “Then let me show you your reward.”

  He thrust the sword forward, and the world ignited.

  [Smite.]

  A beam of light erupted from the blade, a counterforce of divine power so pure that reality itself seemed to tremble. The battlefield was engulfed in brilliance. For a moment, there was no sound—only endless, all-consuming light.