The wind carries the acrid scent of smoke and blood, thick and suffocating. The ground beneath us trembles with the weight of a hundred battles fought at once.
"Ethan! Keep your focus!" King Damon's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade, calm and commanding. "You're barking orders like a madman."
Ethan huffs, eyes locked on the advancing rogues. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, now is not the time for leisure."
Damon chuckles, barely sparing Ethan a glance. "And yet, you're still flapping your mouth instead of shooting arrows."
Ethan scowls but turns back to his men. "Loose!"
A rain of arrows slices through the night, the whistle of their flight drowned by the agonized cries of the rogues they pierce.
Some drop instantly, bodies hitting the dirt in sickening thuds. Others stagger, blood pooling from wounds that won't keep them down for long.
"Again!" Ethan roars. The archers obey without hesitation.