A Battle With Death

Within moments, only one Zuran soldier remained standing.

Their leader, disarmed and bloodied, was half-kneeling on the ground. His right leg still had three arrows buried deep in the flesh, the wounds seeping crimson into the dirt. Yet, despite his battered state, he glared at Lara with pure, seething hatred.

"You will pay for this!" he spat, his voice hoarse with rage. "I will make sure you regret ever being born!"

Lara snorted. "Bold words for a man already half-dead." She took a step closer, her presence casting a shadow over him. "Tell Turik that he should never make the mistake of stepping onto Northem soil. If he does, he'll regret it far more than you do right now."

"How dare you talk to our General like that .... Ahhh!"

The man's words died in a strangled cry as Aramis stomped on the Zuran leader's wounded foot. A fresh wave of agony surged through him, his entire body seizing. For a split second, his vision blacked out.