Act III /Blood and Fire

The battle had consumed Emberhold. Fire spread through parts of the village, casting an orange glow over the chaos. The clash of steel rang out, drowning out the shouts and screams of the wounded. Alexander, his spear slick with blood, had no time to think—only to fight.

Darius was fast. Too fast.

He weaved between Alexander's strikes with terrifying efficiency, his blade slicing shallow wounds into Alexander's arms and shoulders.

"You fight well," Darius admitted, parrying another thrust. "But you're outmatched."

Alexander didn't respond. He lunged, forcing Darius to step back.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tyrell struggling against two of the Baron's elite warriors. One of them smashed him to the ground, raising an axe for the killing blow.

Alexander reacted instantly.

He turned, gripping his spear in one motion, and hurled it across the battlefield.

The weapon whistled through the air—then pierced through the elite warrior's throat, sending him crumpling backward.

Tyrell, stunned but alive, rolled to his feet and cut down the second attacker.

But that single moment of distraction had cost Alexander.

A flash of silver—Darius's blade buried itself into Alexander's side.

Pain tore through him as Darius twisted the blade before pulling it free.

Alexander staggered but did not fall.

Darius smirked. "That should've dropped you."

Alexander wiped the blood from his mouth, his vision flickering. His body was screaming for him to stop. But stopping meant death.

Darius charged forward for the final blow.

And that was when Elias appeared.

His sword slammed against Darius's just in time, forcing the Baron's right-hand man backward.

Darius barely had time to recover before Elias was on him—a relentless flurry of attacks.

"Stay down, Alexander," Elias muttered as he fought.

Alexander ignored him.

He forced himself to stand, gripping a fallen sword. His body screamed in protest, but he wasn't done yet.

Tyrell rushed to his side. "We have to finish this. Together."

Alexander nodded, his grip tightening.

Darius, for the first time, looked worried.

The Battle's Turning Point

Meanwhile, the outer walls of Emberhold had turned into a war zone.

Gareth, leading the defense, smashed through enemy ranks with his warhammer, his armor soaked in blood. "Hold the line!" he roared.

Marcus and his fighters engaged in brutal close-quarters combat near the burning eastern side, using every street and barricade to their advantage.

The Baron's men had expected an easy victory. Instead, they found themselves trapped in a maze of fire and resistance.

The Baron himself, watching from atop his warhorse beyond the battlefield, scowled.

"We should have crushed them by now," he muttered.

One of his officers hesitated. "They're fighting harder than expected, my lord."

The Baron's eyes narrowed.

Alexander Maxwell had turned a band of desperate survivors into an army.

And now, the Baron was losing.

The Death of Darius

Back in the center of Emberhold, the duel had reached its climax.

Darius was bleeding, but so were Alexander and Elias.

Tyrell darted in from the side, his sword slashing against Darius's armor.

Darius twisted to block—and Alexander seized his chance.

With a roar, he drove his sword straight through Darius's chest.

The Baron's second-in-command staggered, his sword slipping from his grip.

"You…" he gasped, blood spilling from his lips.

Alexander yanked the blade free.

Darius collapsed and did not rise.

For the first time since the battle had begun, silence fell over the village.

The Baron's men saw their leader fall.

And their will broke.

The Baron's Retreat

A horn sounded from the enemy ranks.

The Baron, watching from afar, knew what was coming.

The retreat began.

The Baron's forces, once so certain of victory, now fled into the night.

Emberhold had survived.

Alexander, still gripping his bloodied sword, watched them go. His vision blurred. His knees buckled.

Tyrell caught him before he collapsed. "Stay with us."

Alexander, barely conscious, managed a weak smirk. "Told you… we'd hold."

Then, darkness claimed him.