Chiron's death

The battlefield was alive with chaos. The deafening roar of clashing armies echoed in the distance, but within the eye of this storm stood two titans: Hector, the Prince of Troy, and Chiron, his former teacher and mentor. Their duel had captured the attention of all around them. Even the most battle-hardened warriors hesitated to approach, the sheer force of their strikes creating ripples in the air and quakes in the earth.

Chiron, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, shifted his weight. His lance trembled slightly in his grasp, a testament to both his age and the ferocity of Hector's attacks. Across from him, Hector stood tall, his golden aura shimmering like sunlight caught in motion. His breaths came heavy but steady, his grip on his sword unyielding.

"You've grown strong, Hector," Chiron said, his voice steady despite the exertion. "Stronger than I had imagined. But strength alone does not make a warrior."