Taron had finally broken through Lucien's forces.
Now, he stood directly before Lucien and the heavyset man.
But that victory had come at a steep price.
Facing so many enemies had drained nearly all of his stamina. His body was covered in cuts and slashes, several of them still bleeding.
Taron's breathing was ragged. His chest rose and fell heavily, as though every breath had to be forced out of him.
Even so, he remained standing.
Both feet were planted firmly against the ground, forming a low stance. His hands were raised—ready to strike and ready to defend.
Before enemies far more dangerous than the rest, Taron did not retreat.
"Heh. In that condition, you can still stand?" the massive man mocked, lifting his heavy war hammer, its iron tip pointing straight at Taron.
Taron wiped the blood from his right cheek. A faint smile crossed his lips—barely there.
"I didn't come here to give speeches," he said quietly.
He lowered his stance even further, leaning his body forward.
"I came to take you down."
His gaze shifted to Lucien—cold and razor-sharp.
"And if you're still breathing after that…"
"You'll be taken into custody."
From a distance, Armand watched Taron.
Worry flickered across his face—but he forced it away almost immediately.
He knew Taron wasn't in good condition.
But he also knew the boy would never charge forward without calculation.
"Hold on, son," Armand murmured under his breath.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"I'll follow right behind you. Don't fall before I get there."
The tension between Taron, Lucien, and Gomah hung thick in the air, pressing down on anyone close enough to feel it.
Then—
the balance shattered.
Taron shot forward with what remained of his strength. His body stayed low, movements sharp and direct, aiming straight for Lucien.
Lucien did not step back.
Instead, he smiled faintly.
"Gomah," he said calmly.
"Do it."
That was all the command needed.
Gomah stepped forward.
The massive war hammer in his hand dragged across the ground, its iron head grinding against the road and carving a long scar through the dirt.
The scraping sound was slow and heavy, pressing against the ears of anyone who heard it—as if announcing that impact was inevitable.
Taron surged forward and threw a punch with every last ounce of strength he had left, its path straight and aimed directly at Gomah's face.
Gomah's eyes widened slightly. He immediately raised his war hammer to block.
Taron's fist slammed into the hammer's iron head.
A violent vibration shot up Taron's arm, forcing his jaw to clench as he endured the pain.
But Gomah didn't budge.
A mocking grin spread across his face.
"That's all the speed you've got, kid?"
Taron attacked again.
Punches and kicks poured out in rapid succession, sharp and relentless, targeting Gomah's vital points without hesitation.
Behind Gomah, Lucien remained perfectly calm. Not a hint of concern showed in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something far greater to unfold.
Gomah absorbed every strike with his massive hammer.
Each collision landed with a heavy thud, forcing Taron to keep moving without pause.
Taron's breathing grew ragged.
That was when Gomah moved.
The hammer swept in from the side and slammed into Taron's body. A dull, crushing pain exploded through him instantly.
Taron groaned.
Before he could recover, a second swing followed—striking him with full force.
Taron's body was launched through the air, blasting past the edge of the road and crashing into the trees at the forest's edge, before finally stopping with a brutal impact against a thick trunk.
Armand froze when he saw Taron's body hurled toward the forest.
Without hesitation, he finished off the last of Lucien's soldiers before him with a clean, decisive slash.
"Zerik," Armand said quickly.
"I'm leaving the rest to you. Protect Lyanna."
Zerik gave a firm nod and moved to the rear, taking over the position Armand had been holding to guard Lyanna.
Armand sheathed his sword.
Without looking back, he sprinted toward the forest, chasing the place where Taron had been thrown.
He followed the trail left by Taron's impact—broken branches, uprooted plants, and crushed undergrowth marking the violent path through the trees.
Deep within the forest, he found him.
Taron lay sprawled on the ground.
Fresh blood poured from his mouth and nose, soaking into the earth beneath him.
Taron tried to rise.
His knees trembled as he forced his body upright—but the effort was futile. He collapsed back onto the ground.
Fresh blood spilled from his nose.
Armand froze.
He saw Taron clutching his ribs tightly. Every breath made Taron's face contort in pain, as if the air itself were stabbing into his body from within.
Armand knew immediately.
His ribs were broken.
Elsewhere, Lucien looked toward the forest with a disappointed expression.
Before Taron's battered hands could even come close to him, the boy had already been thrown away.
Too quick to fall.
Not even enough to warrant Lucien stepping in himself.
Lucien clicked his tongue softly.
Armand stared at Taron with eyes filled with worry. He grabbed Taron's arm, trying to rouse him.
"Taron! Stay with me! I'll get you somewhere safe. Maybe Lyanna can heal you," he said, forcing himself to breathe steadily.
The moment Armand's hand touched him, Taron cried out in agony.
Armand recoiled in shock.
It wasn't just his ribs.
Nearly Taron's entire upper body had suffered severe trauma from the hammer's impact.
Without hesitation, Armand lowered his head for a brief moment.
"I'm sorry, Taron," he murmured softly before lifting the boy's weakened body into his arms.
The overwhelming pain was too much.
In an instant, Taron lost consciousness, going limp in Armand's embrace.
Without wasting another second, Armand ran back toward his guards, every step driven by urgency and burning worry.
Armand returned to Zerik and Lyanna's side, carefully lowering Taron to the ground.
"Lyanna, please—heal him as much as you can," Armand said, his eyes filled with hope.
Lyanna nodded.
Even though her magical reserves were running low and her own body was exhausted, she still tried. Armand, Zerik, and the remaining guards felt the same fatigue—but all their focus remained on Taron.
Within his fading consciousness, Taron drifted.
He didn't know whether he was falling, flying, or simply floating in emptiness. There was no direction. No ground beneath his feet.
Only disappointment pressed heavily against his chest.
He had failed.
He couldn't protect the people he cared about.
Faces surfaced one by one in his mind.
His grandfather. Piko. The villagers of Rindvale. Armand. Lyanna. And the others.
Then Taron realized something painfully clear.
Throughout his life…
he had always been the one being saved.
And now—even on the edge of death—he was once again a burden.
If he died, all he would leave behind would be trouble for others.
His hand clenched tightly.
Anger twisted across his face, yet his body refused to move. He couldn't do anything.
Somewhere at the edge of his fading awareness, he knew—
Lyanna was trying to heal him.
Even though she herself was already exhausted.
Taron's unconscious body shed tears, though he wasn't fully aware of it.
Within the void where his consciousness drifted, Taron felt something.
A faint red light.
Dim, yet piercing through the darkness, glowing from afar.
Though his eyes could not see it, his heart knew.
The light was drawing closer.
A sense of resignation washed over him.
Whatever happened next… he could no longer change it.
In the real world, Lyanna had nearly depleted all of her stamina. Sweat soaked her forehead, her breathing ragged, yet she continued to pour magical energy into Taron's body.
Frustration took hold of her.
Why couldn't she heal Taron's wounds faster?
Why was her magic so limited when it mattered most?
She stared at Taron's body, panic and fear flooding her chest.
And yet beneath it all, her resolve burned fiercely.
She would not let Taron lose to fate itself.
Nearby, Armand and his remaining guards knelt briefly, catching their breath and suppressing the pain from earlier impacts.
Lucien's forces were still standing.
Far more than they had anticipated.
Even after Taron had shattered most of their front line, the enemy's numbers seemed barely diminished at all.
Armand stared across the battlefield, his eyes tight with strain.
He could feel the same tension in his remaining guards—fatigue and fear were beginning to surface.
Armand lowered his head for a moment, closed his eyes, and prayed silently.
"Please… let Taron and Lyanna be alright…"
A bitter smile crossed his lips.
"Damn it… even at the edge of my own death, I'm still worrying about those two."
Across the battlefield, Lucien stepped forward with calm, predatory strides.
He approached the exhausted and weakened Armand, then grabbed his face roughly.
"What's wrong, brother? Is this all you've got?"
Nearby, beside Taron, Lyanna finally collapsed.
Her body went limp, her breathing shallow, her magical energy completely drained.
Her final words slipped out weakly, filled with regret.
"Father… Grandpa… Taron… forgive me… I…"
Lucien burst into laughter, his voice echoing across the battlefield.
"HAHAHA… Do you see, brother? All of this happened not because of your strength—but because of your greed!"
His eyes burned with hatred as he stared down at Armand.
"How does it feel to be crushed? Oppressing the weak feels good, doesn't it?"
Lucien's laughter rang through the forest, echoing between trees and valleys alike.
Then—
the ground shook violently from the direction of Armand's forces.
A massive tremor rippled through the earth, shaking tree roots and cracking the soil beneath their feet.
Lucien froze, his eyes widening.
"What… is happening?"
Trees swayed violently. Branches snapped. Leaves were torn into the air.
Birds scattered in panic, small animals fled toward Armand's side, sensing something catastrophic rising from that direction.
Armand's troops staggered back, feeling a terrifying and unfamiliar energy tearing through the air.
Everyone knew.
Something enormous—
and dangerous—
was awakening among them.
Lyanna lay unconscious, her body powerless. Armand was still far from Taron's position, struggling to hold back Lucien's remaining forces.
And in that isolation—
Taron slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze was empty, unfocused. His breathing grew heavy, his chest heaving violently.
Then a scream tore from his throat.
It was no longer a human sound.
It was deep.
Bestial.
Wild—like an ancient creature awakening from a long slumber.
His muscles tightened and swelled.
His bones stretched.
His body began to grow uncontrollably.
With every breath, the air around him trembled, the ground cracked, and tree roots were ripped free from beneath the earth.
The environment itself reacted.
The ground caved in beneath him, forming a rough crater. Dust and shattered stone lifted into the air before falling back down like rain. Nearby trees shook violently, their trunks cracking—some collapsing entirely under the pressure radiating from Taron's body.
Forest animals fled in terror. Birds scattered wildly, abandoning the treetops as instinct screamed of a danger beyond comprehension.
Armand's remaining soldiers stood frozen.
No one dared to move.
They understood now—the figure behind them was no longer human.
It was something far more dangerous.
Taron's roar thundered across the forest—deep, seismic, primal.
The sound tore through the trees and rolled across the valleys beyond. Even those near the forest's edge, far from the battlefield, felt the tremor beneath their feet and the crushing weight in their chests.
His body continued to change.
Black scales emerged across his skin—hard and gleaming like dark steel. His jaw extended, teeth sharpening into vicious fangs. Long whisker-like tendrils grew from the sides of his nose, swaying with each heavy breath.
His arms and legs expanded, muscles bulging, claws thickening as they dug into the earth and left deep gouges in the soil.
From his back, a long tail erupted, slamming into the ground and carving new fractures around him.
His eyes snapped fully open.
They burned crimson.
A wild gaze pierced through the forest darkness—one that recognized neither ally nor enemy.
Taron stood at the center of the destruction he had created.
Not as a human.
And not as a hero.
Was the creature that had awakened still Taron…
—or something even he could no longer control?