Chapter 27 - Hero’s Stand
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As Liam rode into Thalrune, the town a shattered sprawl full of wreckage under a dark dawn, smoke tore at his throat. Blackened roofs spat embers, and cracked walls loomed over streets choked with broken crates and ash. Survivors staggered through the haze, some pulling children and others holding wounds, their cries cutting through the crackle of fire.
His horse snorted, hooves grinding up debris as Lysandra charged ahead. Erynn's staff hung limp, her radiance darkened by the chaos; Selene's tail swung, claws shining. Maltheris' forces had mixed themselves with the survivors.
"Spread out." Lysandra shouted, reining her horse tight. "They're here; scouts missed them. "Push for the pass!" Her blade sprang free, steel catching the light, and she charged toward the town's center, severing a raider from a fleeing man.
Selene snarled, spurring her mount after her. "Time to rip 'em apart—move!" Her voice was raw, diving where a woman screamed, pinned by rubble.
Erynn glanced at Liam, her face tense. "Stay close hero, call out if you need help, okay?" She forced a thin smile, then bolted, staff in hand as she shielded a kid.
Liam's fists clenched the reins, his horse prancing beneath him. "Sure," he muttered, teeth gritted.
The girls were fighting, and he wasn't allowed to help cause he was some ace up their sleeves and couldn't afford to draw attention. His sword pulsed at his hip—he was the Hero, not a damn lookout. Orders or not, he wasn't sitting still.
He nudged his horse to the town's fringe, a crumbled wall his perch. Below, Thalrune thrashed—fires hissed, a man dragged a sobbing girl from a burning stall, a woman clawed at debris for a buried arm. His eyes tracked the girls. They were a storm; he was the Hero—time to act.
A rustle jerked his head left—three cloaked figures, creeping from a gutted tavern. Enemy soldiers —not fleeing, stalking him, ignoring a man limping nearby, blood streaking his leg. "Hell no," he breathed, sliding off his horse, hand on his sword. They charged at him, swinging their axes very violently.
Liam dodged, diving right as the first axe sliced the air—too close, wind brushing his face. His heart slammed, adrenaline roaring, reflexes sharp from Lysandra's drills. The second raider swung, a wild chop—he twisted left, ash puffing under his foot, dodging as the blade grazed his cloak.
"Assholes!" he barked, ducking a third swing—the squat one's axe nicking his cheek, a shallow cut stinging hot. He rolled, scrambling up, breath ragged, he continued dodging, weaving, staying alive. They pressed him harder, their axes flashing as it caught the little light in the grey dawn—Liam dancing back, boots slipping, the man's groan spurring him on.
The system flared—Task: Eliminate Raiders (2). Reward: Stat Boost.
His grin split, fierce—finally, his fight. He drew his sword, steel ringing free, and lunged at the squat one—blade slashing leather, then flesh, blood spraying as the guy screamed, collapsing. One down—messy, but his.
The lanky raider roared, axe arcing—Liam sidestepped, and thrust—steel piercing chest, a wet gurgle as the guy dropped, dead. Two down—blood slicked his blade, his hands—Hero's mark, not a bystander's.
The third froze, axe shaking—then bolted, sprinting past the limping man toward the pass.
"Not today!" Liam growled, chasing him—legs pumping, ash kicking up. He tackled the guy, crashing hard—raider thrashing, Liam pinned him, sword at his throat. "Stay down!" he snarled, yanking a rope from the guy's belt, binding his wrists tight.
The raider's eyes bulged and then he bit down, hard. Foam bubbled from his mouth and his bodily began to jerk. He went limp, dead by his own hand, before Liam could react.
"Damn," he panted, staggering back, sword dripping—three down, one way or another.
The system pinged—
Task Complete: Raiders Eliminated (2).
Level Up: 5.
Rewards: Physical +1 (7), Stamina +1 (9).
Liam wiped blood from his cheek, grinning through the sting—Level 5, stats climbing, all steel and grit. He'd fought—killed—for Thalrune's people, not just himself.
Hooves thundered—Lysandra burst through the smoke, her blade red, with sweat streaking down her face.
"Hero—what happened?" Her voice was sharp, eyes flicking to the bodies, his bloody sword, the cut on his face, then the man hobbling free nearby.
"They Jumped me," he said, standing tall, wiping his blade on his cloak. "I tried capturing this guy," he said pointing to the limp figure in front of him, "but then he killed himself."
Selene rode up, claws bloody. "Well, damn—Hero's got steel! Smelled the blood—nice cuts." Her tail flicked, respect in her crimson eyes.
Erynn galloped in, her arm scorched, breathless. "You're cut—was that you?" Her gaze hit the dead raiders, then Liam—shock melting to a grin. "You saved him and took them down!"
"Yeah," Liam said, sheathing his sword, the weight solid—earned. His pulse thrummed—first kills, real stakes—Hero shit.
Lysandra dismounted, boots crunching ash, her silver eyes fierce but warm. "Pass is clear, Maltheris forces ran." She nodded at the bodies.
Selene slid off her horse, stretching with a grin. "That fire's hot—next time, we hunt together. Claws and steel, huh?" Her claws glinted, a tease with a nod.
Erynn hopped down, wincing at her arm. "You're incredible—sword, blood, all of it! Saved him—wow." Her smile glowed, eyes flicking to a kid hugging the man—then back to him, bright.
Liam exhaled, the rush settling—Thalrune wasn't whole, still scarred, Maltheris' taunt lingering. His kills were small—grunts, not the sorcerer—but fuck, they mattered—survivors lived because of him. "Next time," he said, rough, "I'm in deep—not the edge."
Lysandra's lips twitched, a firm nod. "Next time—you're ready. Trained, not wild." Her hand clapped his shoulder—solid, a teammate's grip.
Selene's tail brushed his leg as she passed. "Grow those fangs, Hero—then we'll talk."
Erynn tugged his cloak, soft. "Camp's that way—we're beat." She limped ahead, the girls leading toward a clear patch past the wreckage, survivors trailing slow.
Liam followed, boots crunching ash, Thalrune's cries fading behind. The system hummed—Level 5, Physical 7, Stamina 9—blood on his steel, a cut on his face, fire in his gut. Maltheris hit and ran—border games, king's hunch—and Liam was here, fighting, not watching. The Hero, bloodied and standing, and they'd damn well know it.