The Black Fang Mercenaries

Chapter 15: The Black Fang Mercenaries

The Black Fang's Decision

Before the battle, Leon stood before the Black Fang Mercenaries, a rogue company of warriors who sold their blades to the highest bidder.

Their leader, Garrik the Iron Fang, was a beast of a man—towering, scarred, and built like a war god. His spiked gauntlets were said to crush a man's skull with a single strike.

He sat lazily on a crude stone throne, flanked by his most trusted killers.

"So, the Forsaken wants an army." Garrik's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You must be mad if you think we'll fight the sect's dogs for free."

Leon didn't flinch.

"I don't need an army," he said. "I need wolves who aren't afraid to tear their masters apart."

A tense silence.

Then Garrik grinned.

"Hah! I like your madness, boy. But words won't buy our blades."

Leon reached into his cloak and tossed a crimson crystal onto the table.

The Blood Essence Crystal he took from the Warlord of the Forsaken.

Garrik's eyes flickered with interest. Around him, his men whispered—power like that could push a cultivator beyond their limits.

"And if that's not enough," Leon added, his voice low, "I'll offer you one more thing."

He stepped forward, his black flames flickering to life.

"I'll give you a chance to be on the winning side."

Garrik grinned, his eyes glinting with madness "You're going to have to show me how you'll be on the winning side". He motioned towards Leon "Come .... Fight me"

Garrik the Iron Fang, still stood, breathing heavily, his massive greatsword planted into the ground for support.

The once-proud mercenary captain wiped the blood from his cracked lips and chuckled. "You're a monster, Voss… but I respect that." His deep voice carried exhaustion but also something unexpected—admiration.

Leon narrowed his eyes, gripping Abyssal Fang tightly. "Are you surrendering, or should I finish this?"

Garrik spat to the side and let out a booming laugh. "Surrender? No, boy. I'd rather die fighting. But… I know when I've lost." He lifted his gaze, the wolfish gleam in his eyes unwavering. "The Empire's watching you now. And trust me, you don't want their attention."

Leon remained silent, his mind processing the implications.

—

The Emperor Takes Notice

Far away, in the heart of the empire, Emperor Kael Draven sat upon his throne, a golden chalice in his hand. His piercing eyes skimmed over the latest intelligence reports.

"Leon Voss…" he murmured. "A nobody turned warlord."

Beside him, Grand Marshal Varian, the man responsible for the empire's military affairs, folded his arms. "He crushed the Black Fang Mercenaries, seized their fortress, and now commands a growing faction of outcasts. Shall I send an Inquisitor to remove him?"

The Emperor smirked. "Not yet. A man who survives betrayal, rises from death, and gathers power so quickly… interests me." He took a slow sip from his chalice. "Let's see how far he's willing to climb."

—

A Dangerous Proposition

Back at the stronghold, Leon stood before Garrik, who was now bound but still grinning.

"You don't want to kill me," the mercenary said. "Not because I deserve to live, but because I know things. The underworld of this empire? I've been part of it for years. If you're smart, you'll use me."

Leon tilted his head. "Why would a man like you betray the empire?"

Garrik scoffed. "Betray? Ha. I've fought for them, killed for them, but when I became inconvenient, they branded me a traitor. So now, I fight for myself. Or, if you have the guts, I fight for you."

Leon studied the mercenary leader. His instincts screamed that Garrik was dangerous, but perhaps… a useful danger.

"Swear loyalty, and I'll let you live," Leon said coldly. "Betray me, and I'll personally carve out your heart."

Garrik studied him for a long moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

Garrik's grin widened. "You'll find I'm more useful alive than dead, boss."

That night, the Black Fang Mercenaries marched for Black Moon Fortress.