A King Without a Crown

The battlefield reeked of blood and burning flesh.

Eldermere's wooden barricades, once hastily built in desperation, now stood stained with gore, their stakes slick with the blood of both men and monsters. The ground was a mangled mess of corpses—Vallis's soldiers, Rift-spawned horrors, and villagers who had fought to defend their homes.

But the battle was not over.

Not yet.

Aric stood at the center of the chaos, his sword dripping with black ichor. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his body screaming for rest.

But there was no time to rest.

Because Lord Vallis was still alive.

And the Rift was still watching.

----

Beyond the ruined barricades, a cluster of Vallis's soldiers still stood. Their banners were torn, their formation broken, but they had not fled.

Because their lord had not given the order to retreat.

Vallis sat atop his warhorse, his polished armor now smeared with dirt and blood. His expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the fury that burned in his eyes.

"You could have bowed," Vallis said, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "You could have spared your people this destruction."

Aric lifted his blade. "You think this was destruction?" His voice was hoarse. Cold.

The Rift had done far worse.

Vallis sneered. "Then let me show you what true destruction looks like."

He raised his sword.

And his knights charged.

----

The world collapsed into chaos.

Steel clashed against steel. Screams tore through the air. The last of Eldermere's defenders braced themselves, meeting the final charge of Vallis's forces with everything they had left.

Aric moved like a shadow through the carnage.

His blade found gaps in armor, cutting through chainmail and flesh with unnatural precision. He was exhausted, his body aching, but something deep in his soul carried him forward.

A memory.

A feeling.

He had fought battles like this before.

He had won wars like this before.

And he would not fall here.

Lira fought beside him, her daggers flashing in the firelight as she slashed at a knight's throat. Kael moved through the battle with graceful brutality, his daggers leaving behind nothing but dead men.

But Vallis—Vallis was cutting his way toward Aric.

His knights fell beside him, but he did not stop.

His eyes locked onto Aric.

And then he charged.

----

Vallis's blade came down like a hammer.

Aric barely caught the strike, steel screaming against steel. The force of it sent a shockwave through his arms, but he held firm.

Vallis snarled, shoving forward. "You're no king," he spat. "You're just a bastard playing with power you don't understand!"

Aric's feet slid against the blood-slicked ground. His muscles burned.

But he held.

And then—

He pushed back.

The strength that had once ruled an empire surged through his limbs. His next strike forced Vallis back, their swords crashing together again and again.

Vallis was strong. But Aric was faster.

And he was angry.

His blade found an opening—a crack in Vallis's defenses.

And he took it.

Steel bit through chainmail, sinking into flesh.

Vallis staggered, his breath hitching. His sword slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground.

He fell to his knees.

Blood poured from the wound, soaking into the earth.

He looked up at Aric, his expression caught between rage and disbelief.

"You…" he rasped. "You're not even supposed to exist."

Aric stared down at him.

He should have felt triumph.

But all he felt was the weight of what came next.

The war wasn't over.

This was just the beginning.

----

A low hum filled the air.

The ground beneath them shuddered.

The Rift, silent until now, reacted.

The air split like torn fabric, shadows spilling into the battlefield. The villagers, the soldiers, all turned as something moved within the mist.

A voice—not from a single throat, but from a thousand echoes overlapping.

"The Emperor has returned."

Aric's heart pounded.

Vallis's face twisted in horror. "What—what have you done?"

Aric didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

The Rift had been watching. Waiting.

And now, it was awake.

----

The battle was over.

Eldermere still stood.

The Rift had not claimed them—yet.

But as Aric turned to face his people, he saw it in their eyes.

Not just fear.

Not just awe.

But expectation.

Kael sighed, wiping blood from his blade. "Well. Looks like you're a warlord now."

Lira folded her arms. "More like a king."

Aric stared at the ruined battlefield.

He had no crown. No royal bloodline.

But he had won.

And that was enough.

For now.