The Final Battle

The battle for Carridan's fortress raged in full force, the night sky illuminated by the glow of burning torches and the clash of steel ringing through the air like a war drum. My forces had broken through the gates, carving through Carridan's last defenders like a storm of blades and blood.

Goblins swarmed over fallen bodies, their shrill war cries blending with the grunts of wounded soldiers. The Iron Fang mercenaries fought with brutal efficiency, their disciplined strikes cutting down disorganized enemies who had already lost their will to fight. From the walls, human archers loosed arrows into the chaos, thinning enemy ranks with lethal precision.

Yet amidst the carnage, my focus was on one man.

Carridan stood at the heart of the battlefield, his blackened armor gleaming beneath the firelight. His greatsword rested easily in his hands, its wicked edge already stained with blood—both his enemies' and his own. Around him, his personal guard held their ground, forming a final wall of defense around their master.

I met his gaze across the battlefield.

He did not look afraid.

"You should have stayed behind your walls, outworlder," Carridan called out, his voice carrying over the battlefield.

I spun my spear, tightening my grip. "And you should have chosen a different enemy."

His smirk was slow, measured. "We'll see."

Then, he moved.

He came at me like a charging beast, his greatsword cleaving through the air with devastating force. I barely had time to dodge, rolling beneath the blow as the steel shattered the stone where I had stood seconds before.

Carridan was fast.

Too fast for a man his size.

I countered, lashing out with my spear, aiming for the gap in his armor near his ribs. He twisted, deflecting the strike with a brutal backhand that sent me staggering. The sheer power behind his blows was inhuman—if he landed a clean hit, it wouldn't just wound me, it would end me.

I adjusted my stance, shifting my weight. I couldn't overpower him. I had to be faster, smarter, more precise.

Carridan lunged again, his greatsword a blur of destruction. I sidestepped one blow, ducked under another, then finally saw my opening.

I struck.

My spear's tip found his side, piercing through his armor just enough to draw blood.

Carridan grunted but didn't falter. Instead, he slammed his shoulder into me, knocking me back with brute force.

I barely rolled away in time to avoid his next strike, the tip of his greatsword grazing my armor, sending sparks flying.

This fight wasn't going to last long.

One of us would fall soon.

The battlefield swirled around us, but it felt distant. I was vaguely aware of Gorak leading the goblins through the fortress, Draven's mercenaries cutting through the last of Carridan's soldiers, Vaelin barking orders to keep our flanks secure.

None of that mattered right now.

It was him and me.

Carridan charged again.

This time, I didn't dodge.

I stepped forward, inside his guard, letting his greatsword slice past my shoulder—pain flared as steel bit into flesh, but I ignored it.

With everything I had, I drove my spear straight into his chest.

Carridan staggered, eyes widening.

Blood poured from his mouth as he gripped the shaft of my weapon, trying to pull it free.

I twisted the spear.

He collapsed to his knees.

For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.

"You… should have run," I murmured.

Then, with one final thrust, I drove my spear through his heart.

Carridan fell.

The battle did not end immediately. His soldiers fought on, but as word spread that their leader was dead, their will to fight shattered. Some threw down their weapons, others tried to flee.

The goblins showed no mercy. The mercenaries cut them down without hesitation.

Within minutes, it was over.

The fortress was mine.

I yanked my spear free from Carridan's lifeless body and turned toward my warriors. They stood among the ruins, their breaths heavy, their armor splattered with blood.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Gorak raised his axe high and let out a roar of victory that shook the very walls of the fortress.

The goblins howled in triumph, their voices echoing through the stone halls.

The mercenaries raised their weapons, cheering for their newly won stronghold.

Draven smirked, wiping his blade clean. "Well, that was satisfying."

Vaelin rolled his shoulders, his expression calm but pleased. "The war is won."

The system chimed in my mind.

[Carridan Defeated: +1,500 Gold Earned]

[Fortress Captured: +Control of the Region Secured]

[New Title Unlocked: Warlord of the Wilds]

I exhaled slowly. The weight of everything settled over me at once. This wasn't just a battle won—it was a shift in power.

Carridan had ruled these lands through fear, control, and sheer military strength. Now, that strength was mine.

I turned, staring at the fortress that now belonged to me. Its broken banners fluttered in the wind, its torches casting light over the bodies of the fallen.

"What now, Outworlder?" Draven asked.

I looked at him, at Gorak, at Vaelin, at the Shadeborn lurking in the shadows.

Now, I had to decide what kind of ruler I would be.

Would I hold these lands? Expand further? Or would I prepare for the enemies that would come next?

Because there would be more.

There were always more.

For now, I let the victory sink in. I let the roar of my warriors fill the fortress. I let them celebrate what they had won.