The gates opened with a heavy groan.
Krooooo... Krooooo... Krooooo...
The chains rattled as guards lifted the massive iron barrier.
Krooooo... Tchaaaaak.
It stood open now.
Arden could see exactly how quickly the Drake Riders beyond that white snowfield could swarm through if this went wrong.
He led his team out, five against what should be five.
Students walking into formal combat against an ancient evil.
Behind them, soldiers watched from the walls.
Some looked bewildered at the recklessness.
Others watched with expectation—they'd heard about the Berserker hunt.
Arden made sure his expression showed nothing but confidence.
Even if inside, his mind was racing through every possible scenario.
Every way this could go catastrophically wrong.
Stay focused. One step at a time.
The snow crunched under their boots.
Cold.
Quiet.
The captured rangers lay between them and the enemy force.
Some tried to crawl toward the fortress.
Others were too wounded to move.
All of them watched as five students approached certain death.
The Flame-Crowned Overlord sat astride his massive drake.
Ten feet of iron and fire.
Ancient intelligence wrapped in monstrous flesh.
Around him, four other Ironhide Berserkers dismounted from their drakes.
Each one eight feet tall.
Each one carrying crude but effective weapons.
Battle-axes.
War hammers.
One had a spear nearly as long as it was tall.
Brick cracked his knuckles, grinning.
"Finally. A real fight."
"Stay focused," Elara said quietly.
"This isn't like the patrol we fought."
"I know. That's what makes it exciting."
Serra's frost magic was already manifesting unconsciously—small ice crystals forming in the air around her.
Rykard's three swords orbited slowly, perfectly controlled.
And Arden...
Arden activated his Shadow Devil core.
His white hair turned pitch black.
Ice-blue eyes became void-black.
Darkness clung to him like living smoke.
The transformation complete.
From the walls, soldiers murmured.
"What is that?"
"Some kind of Integration?"
"I've never seen anything like it..."
The Overlord watched them approach.
When they reached speaking distance, the massive creature spoke.
The words were ancient Berserker dialect—guttural, harsh.
But Arden understood them.
"You speak the old words, little shadow?"
Arden studied the creature carefully.
Something was wrong about it.
The eyes were too dim.
The posture too aggressive.
This isn't right.
"We face you," Arden said clearly.
"Release the prisoners. We'll fight according to ancient tradition."
The creature gestured toward the captured rangers.
Two smaller Berserkers moved forward, dragging the wounded toward the fortress gates.
"You have courage, children. Your flesh will be a fine feast."
That phrasing. Wrong. All wrong.
But Arden kept his expression neutral.
"Choose your opponent, beast."
The fake Overlord's ember-like eyes fixed on Arden.
"You. The shadow leader. You are mine."
It dismounted from its drake with a heavy thud.
"The rest may fight my warriors. But you..." It raised a massive halberd.
"You face me alone."
Arden stepped forward.
"Agreed."
Elara grabbed his arm briefly.
"Be careful."
"Always am."
"That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort."
She released him, and Arden walked forward to face the ten-foot monster.
The battlefield was small now—just two combatants in a circle of snow.
The others spread out to their respective duels.
But all eyes remained on Arden and the fake Overlord.
This was the focal point.
The creature raised its halberd high.
"Let us see if your power matches your arrogance, little shadow!"
Arden drew his steel sword.
The blade drank in the darkness around him, becoming nearly invisible.
They circled each other.
Arden looking for openings.
The fake Overlord moving with surprising grace for its size.
It's skilled. Whatever this thing is, it's been trained for combat.
Then the creature attacked.
The halberd came down in a devastating overhead strike.
Arden Shadow Stepped.
The blade buried itself in snow where he'd been standing.
He appeared at the creature's side.
Slashed at its exposed ribs.
Clang!
The sword sparked off iron hide.
Barely a scratch.
The fake Overlord backhanded him.
Arden raised his sword to block.
The impact sent him skidding backward through the snow.
Strong. Much stronger than the regular Berserkers.
"Is that all, little shadow?" it laughed.
"I expected more!"
Arden steadied himself.
Fine. Time to stop testing.
He poured mana into his blade.
Shadows wrapped around the steel, making it darker, sharper, more lethal.
"Your turn to be impressed," Arden said quietly.
He attacked.
Not probing strikes—calculated precision.
Shadow Step behind.
Slash at the knee joint.
Shadow Step to the side.
Cut at the elbow.
Shadow Step forward.
Thrust at the neck gap.
The fake Overlord tried to track him but couldn't.
Too fast.
Too unpredictable.
Blood began to flow.
Not much—the iron hide was still effective.
But Arden was finding the gaps.
The joints.
The vulnerable points.
This is taking too long. I need to end this.
The fake Overlord roared in frustration.
"STAND STILL!"
Its eyes began to glow orange.
Fire magic erupted.
Beams of heat that melted snow on contact.
Arden Shadow Stepped frantically.
Dodging.
Weaving.
One beam came too close—he felt his cloak singe.
Dangerous. But not as strong as it should be.
The real Overlord's fire magic would be a pain in the ass.
This is definitely a fake.
Around them, the other duels were intense.
Brick was laughing as he traded blows with the war hammer Berserker.
Each hit he took made him stronger.
Each hit he returned was devastating.
Serra had turned her section of the battlefield into a frozen wasteland.
The spear-wielder moved like it was trudging through mud.
Rykard's three swords created a sphere of death around the dual-axe Berserker.
Attack from above.
From the side.
From below.
The creature couldn't defend all angles.
Elara danced around the cleaver-wielder with perfect grace.
Too fast to hit.
Too precise to block.
Every exchange left her opponent bleeding from new wounds.
But Arden's focus remained on his own fight.
The fake Overlord was weakening.
Too many cuts.
Too much blood loss.
It dropped to one knee.
Arden approached carefully.
Something's wrong. It's giving up too easily.
"You... are stronger than expected, little shadow," it panted.
"I acknowledge... your victory."
No. This is wrong. It's not fighting like it's losing.
It's fighting like it's stalling.
Arden's instincts screamed warning.
"Everyone! DEFENSIVE POSITIONS!"
His team reacted immediately.
They'd learned to trust his instincts.
Brick backed away from his opponent.
Serra created an ice wall.
Rykard's swords formed a protective barrier.
Elara moved closer to Arden.
"What is it?"
"Trap. This whole thing is a—"
BOOM.
The entire situation dissolved into chaos.
A great noise came from the mountains.
The ground shook under ravages of ancient power.
Orange traceries of magical energy arced through the sky.
Their source somewhere deep within the peaks.
The souls of watching soldiers withered at the sight.
And with the magic came a voice.
Not speaking Common.
Not speaking the modern tongue.
Speaking something older.
Darker.
"INFERNUS VINDICTUS!"
A figure appeared on the ridge.
Smaller than the Berserkers—only seven feet tall.
But radiating power that made the fake Overlord look like a child.
Robed in what looked like scorched hide.
Carrying a staff crowned with flames that burned without fuel.
Its face was hidden behind a mask made of iron and bone.
But the eyes...
The eyes burned with genuine intelligence.
With ancient malice.
With hunger.
The Ember Sage.
Arden recognized it from his novel.
The Flame-Crowned Overlord's right hand.
His most powerful lieutenant.
A shaman who mastered fire magic that predated the kingdom itself.
And he just cast a spell.
A massive fireball formed above the Ember Sage's staff.
Growing.
Expanding.
Becoming a miniature sun.
"GET BACK!" Arden screamed.
The fireball launched.
Not at them.
At the fortress walls.
Arden reacted on instinct.
He threw his sword.
Shadow Stepped to it mid-flight.
Appeared in the projectile's path.
I can't stop it.
Too much power.
But I can redirect it.
He poured everything into his mana core.
Shadows erupted around him.
Dark energy forming a barrier.
The fireball hit.
The impact was incredible.
Arden's barrier diverted it—barely.
The fireball curved away from the wall.
Slammed into the snowfield between the fortress and the mountains.
The explosion was deafening.
Snow vaporized.
Rock melted.
A crater fifty feet wide appeared instantly.
Arden fell from the sky.
Landed hard in the snow.
His mana reserves completely depleted.
Shadow form flickering.
That... was too close.
The Ember Sage laughed.
A sound like crackling flames.
"Interesting! The little shadow has power!"
It raised its staff again.
"But can you stop THIS?"
More fireballs began forming.
Multiple ones.
And the fake Overlord was standing back up.
Its wounds already closing.
It was buying time. The whole duel was a distraction.
"ALL UNITS ENGAGE!" Commander Thorne's voice roared from the walls.
"DEFENSIVE FORMATION ALPHA!"
Crossbow bolts filled the air.
Striking the Berserkers.
The fake Overlord raised its halberd.
"NO MORE HONOR! KILL THEM ALL!"
The four other Berserkers stopped their individual duels.
Clustered together.
Forming a tight unit around their leader.
This is bad.
They're fighting as a coordinated group now.
And that shaman is preparing another attack.
Arden forced himself to stand.
His body protested—mana exhaustion hurt.
But he didn't have time for pain.
Elara was beside him instantly.
"Can you fight?"
"Have to."
The Berserkers charged as one.
Five on five became a chaotic melee.
No grand strategy—just survival.
Arden tried to slash at the fake Overlord's throat.
Had to dodge a war hammer from the side.
Had to block an axe from above.
They were protecting each other.
Covering weaknesses.
Fighting like veterans.
The Ember Sage is commanding them.
Coordinating their movements.
This is what the real Overlord's forces fight like.
Brick took a devastating hit from two Berserkers simultaneously.
But his Accumulated Destruction technique turned it into fuel.
His next strike shattered a Berserker's jaw.
Serra's ice magic created zones of frozen ground.
Making the enemy slip and stumble.
Rykard's three swords attacked from multiple angles.
Finding gaps in their coordinated defense.
Elara and Arden worked in tandem.
She created openings.
He exploited them.
But they were losing ground.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
Then the Ember Sage cast again.
"IGNIS CATARACTA!"
A waterfall of fire descended from the sky.
Aimed directly at the students.
Serra reacted instantly.
"GLACIAL FORTRESS!"
Ice erupted upward.
A dome of frozen protection.
The fire hit.
Steam exploded.
The ice held.
Barely.
Cracks appeared.
Spreading.
"I can't hold it!" Serra gasped.
"Too much power!"
The dome shattered.
Fire poured through.
Arden Shadow Stepped, grabbing Serra.
Moved her to safety.
The fire scorched where she'd been standing.
Brick roared and charged the Berserkers alone.
Drawing their attention.
Taking hits deliberately.
Absorbing damage.
Building power.
"GO! I'LL HOLD THEM!"
His body was covered in wounds.
But his eyes burned with determination.
Another fireball from the Ember Sage.
Smaller this time.
Faster.
Aimed at Brick's exposed back.
Rykard's swords intercepted.
Deflecting it.
The explosion sent him sprawling.
We're going to lose.
Not because we're weak.
Because we're outnumbered and outgunned.
That shaman alone is too much.
Combined with five Berserkers...
Then Arden saw it.
A pattern.
The Ember Sage was stationary.
Had to be—complex magic required stable footing.
And his position on the ridge...
Exposed.
"ELARA!" Arden called.
She understood immediately.
They'd fought together enough.
"Cover me!"
"Always!"
Arden activated what little mana he'd recovered.
Shadow form flickering back to life.
Not full power.
But enough.
He Shadow Stepped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Moving toward the ridge.
The Ember Sage noticed too late.
Arden appeared behind the shaman.
Blade already moving.
Slash!
The staff fell to the snow.
Cut cleanly through.
The flames atop it died.
The Ember Sage spun, eyes wide.
"Impossible! You shouldn't have mana left!"
"I'm full of surprises," Arden panted.
His blade found the shaman's throat.
Not deep—the creature wore enchanted robes.
But enough.
Blood flowed.
The Ember Sage stumbled backward.
Fell.
Rolled down the ridge.
Landed in the snow.
Motionless.
Without the shaman's coordination, the Berserkers faltered.
Their tight formation broke.
Brick capitalized immediately.
His accumulated damage released in one massive strike.
The fake Overlord's chest caved in.
It fell.
Dead.
Finally dead.
The remaining Berserkers tried to retreat.
But Serra's ice magic blocked their escape.
Rykard's swords found throats.
Elara's blades found hearts.
In less than thirty seconds, it was over.
Five Berserkers.
Dead.
One shaman.
Neutralized.
The battlefield fell silent.
Except for heavy breathing.
And the crackling of residual fires.
Arden's shadow form deactivated completely.
He collapsed to one knee.
We won.
Somehow, we actually won.
From the walls, cheers erupted.
"VICTORY!"
"THE STUDENTS DID IT!"
"THEY KILLED THE OVERLORD!"
But Arden knew better.
That wasn't the real Overlord.
Just a fake.
And a powerful lieutenant.
The real threat was still hidden.
Still watching.
Still planning.
Commander Thorne met them at the gates.
Medical teams rushed out to treat wounds.
Brick could barely stand.
Serra looked ready to collapse.
Rykard's mana reserves were depleted.
Elara had dozens of small cuts.
And Arden...
"You need medical attention," Davrin said.
It wasn't a suggestion.
"The Ember Sage—"
"Is being secured by rangers as we speak. Whatever it is, it's alive but unconscious."
"That wasn't the real Overlord, sir."
"I know. But you eliminated one of his key lieutenants. That's a significant victory."
As they walked back through the gates, Arden looked at the mountains.
The real one is out there.
And now he knows we can kill his commanders.
He'll adapt. Change strategy.
Fucking Berserkers