"Fire!"
Braxen roared, eyes wild with fury. The sky shrieked as ballista bolts tore through the air, whistling toward the enemy like banshees of iron and death.
But then—movement.
From the flanks of the Stormdrake legion, figures burst forth.
Knights.
Clad in dull gold armor that shimmered not with ornament but with the weight of mastery. Each bore a long spear that hummed with power.
With a unified motion, they swung.
And the impossible happened.
The bolts shattered mid-air, torn to splinters by the sheer force and precision of the spear swings.
Braxen flinched. "No…"
At first, he tried to dismiss it—a single Spear Expert, perhaps. Every great army had one.
But then—more beams. Dozens.
Spears thrust, not at enemies, but at the sky itself—projecting spearlight, razor beams of energy that lanced through the air, shredding the remaining projectiles.
Over fifty.
His breath hitched.
