NOVEL NEXT Chapter 117: He Joins The Battle
Smoke of the burning quarter rolled through the narrow streets of Solaris' capital, curling black plumes that clawed at the night sky.
The bells of alarm had not stopped since midnight, a shrill dirge tolling doom for the kingdom.
The army of a hundred had cut through the gates like wolves in a sheepfold, leaving ruin and death behind. But though their blades had been sharp and their wills unyielding, the sheer tide of numbers pressed back.
From a force of three thousand defenders, the capital still roared with half its strength.
And Lan's soldiers, hardened as they were, bled. Many had fallen. What remained fought with teeth clenched and eyes burning red, as though they had abandoned the thought of survival in exchange for one wish: to leave a scar on Solaris that would never heal.
Bragg strode through the main avenue with blood on his knuckles, his tattoos streaked crimson.
A bruiser by build, thick-shouldered, hands like stone, he looked like one carved from the same granite that lined the city walls.
Every step shook dust free from the cobbles. His breaths were heavy, steam misting the cold night. Behind him trailed a wedge of Lan's soldiers, their armor dented, weapons dripping, their numbers thinned by a quarter.
They pressed forward, deeper into the capital.
The deeper they went, the stronger the resistance. Barricades. Spell wards. Lines of shieldmen locking the streets. The defenders fought not as peasants or conscripts but as trained soldiers, drilled and desperate.
But Bragg knew one truth: desperation did not harden bone.
They broke against him.
A squad of Solaris guards, mages among them, tried to hold a choke point near the marketplace. Spells flashed—arcs of flame, gusts of cutting wind.
Bragg's fists, wrapped in the faint shimmer of Qi, shattered through them. He smashed through wards like glass, the impact ringing louder than their incantations.
"Keep moving!" he barked.
But the further they pushed, the more resistance thickened—until at last, the enemy's commander showed himself.
From the steps of the broken hall that overlooked the square, a figure in plate armor stood tall, a cloak snapping in the heated wind. His helm was crested with the Solaris sigil.
He bore aswell bore a halberd as tall as a man, its edge alive with humming light.
"Hold the line!" the man roared, his voice a clarion call across the bloodied street. His troops rallied instantly, their backs straightening, their shields locking tighter.
"This city will not fall to brigands and traitors!"
Bragg's eyes narrowed. He knew the man from whispers. General Gav Arathorn, commander of the third division of Solaris' royal army. A man said to have crushed rebellions in the south, a Fifth Circle mage whose strength made even nobles bow.
Bragg's lips split in a cold smile. "Finally."
He charged at him.
Gav swung his halberd in a blazing arc, its edge glowing with magic. Bragg caught it with his forearm, Qi hardening his flesh like iron. Sparks flew as the blow rang against him, yet his stance did not break.
"You think your foolish prince stands a chance at success?" Gav sneered, forcing his halberd down.
Bragg's reply was a gravelled growl. "I'm not one to conversate with men about to die."
His other hand shot forward. A brutal jab. Gav barely twisted aside as the strike grazed his pauldron, denting the steel inward like clay. The shockwave rippled, throwing nearby soldiers off balance.
Gav snarled, eyes flashing with mana. He spun his halberd, flames erupting along its edge. The weapon screamed with power as he brought it down.
Bragg crossed his arms to block. Fire seared, the air exploding in heat. The ground cracked under their collision.
And Bragg stepped through it.
He shoved forward with the weight of a mountain, fists hammering against halberd shaft. Gav staggered, teeth gritted as the sheer physicality pressed against his magic.
Bragg struck again, this time a hook that slammed into Kael's ribs. The general coughed blood inside his helm, stumbling back as his soldiers faltered.
"General!" voices cried.
But Gav's fury burned hotter. Mana erupted from his core, his armor shining as enchantments flared awake. His body expanded, strength magnified by spellwork.
He leapt, halberd whirling in arcs of destructive brilliance.
Bragg did not move.
The weapon came down like a comet.
At the last instant, Bragg stepped into the blow. His fist, wrapped in Qi so dense it glowed red, shot forward like a cannonball.
Steel met flesh.
The halberd snapped in two, its shaft splintering under the raw strike. Bragg's fist carried through, smashing against Gav's chestplate.
The enchantments screamed, runes flaring as they tried to absorb the blow. But Qi was merciless. The plate caved, ribs cracked, blood spewed from Gav's mouth as he was hurled across the square, smashing through stone steps.
For a moment the battlefield froze.
Gav groaned, trying to rise. His soldiers rushed, fear and loyalty dragging them forward. But Bragg's voice cut through them, deep and final:
"Stay back. He's mine."
The soldiers halted, uncertain, trembling.
Gav dragged himself upright, broken halberd still clutched in hand. His eyes, bloodshot and burning with defiance, locked onto Bragg.
"You're… nothing but a thug. A dog for a false prince. You think victory lies in breaking bones? You'll never—"
Bragg's footfalls cut him off. Heavy. Final.
He stood before the general, his shadow looming over him. "You nobles talk too much," Bragg muttered. His fist drew back, every muscle tightening, tattoos glowing faintly as his Qi surged to its peak.
"This is war. And war respects one thing."
His punch fell like a hammer from the heavens.
Gav's helm shattered. His skull cracked against the stone beneath. The body went limp. The square fell silent.
Bragg stood over him, chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he muttered, almost too quiet for the others to hear:
"…Strength."
He turned to the troops, their faces pale, eyes wide. "Come," he growled. "Join your general."
---
The push deeper into the capital continued.
But the cost mounted. Solaris' soldiers, though shaken, were many. Magic rained from towers, arrows fell in storms. Lan's force of a hundred dwindled further with each block taken.
From three thousand, Solaris' defense had been cut in half—but even a thousand was a tide compared to the dwindling sparks that followed Lan's banner.
Every street was bought with blood. Every barricade, a grave. And yet, still, they pressed on.
Until the sky began to change.
The moonlight dimmed. Shadows grew long and unnatural, swallowing torchlight, drowning fire. A hush fell over friend and foe alike. Heads tilted upward.
The night itself darkened, as though ink bled across the stars. Clouds churned into a spiral, blotting the heavens. A wind cold as the grave swept down the avenues.
And in the distance, at the heart of the storm, a silhouette stood against the blackened sky.
A lone figure, hair wild, eyes like pale grey coals in the dark. His cloak snapped with the gale, and the weight of his presence pressed upon the city like a mountain.
Bragg stopped mid-stride. His fists, still slick with Gav's blood, trembled from excitement.
"So," he muttered, voice a rumble that carried to those near him. His gaze never left the distant silhouette.
"…He finally joins the battle."