Reza reached the riders and took a few seconds to assess the enemy. Fortunately, it became evident that none of them possessed any magical abilities. Although not entirely unexpected, the lone rider was revealed as having pact with a wraith, confirming his origin from Arkhen. Regrettably, the young rider’s aura was weak; Reza had almost overlooked it in its weakened state.

  Auras were a reflection of an individual’s magic and power. The more powerful the person, the stronger and more potent their aura would be. Aura had various applications, but its primary function was to indicate an individual’s strength, serving as either a warning or an invitation. Reza’s ability to perceive auras was rare, but among pact holders or mages, it was common and one of the reasons for his advancement. Understanding one’s enemy was crucial for an officer and a major combatant.

  Mages or pact wielders could manipulate their auras to exert a powerful influence on others. A common citizen would be unable to resist the overwhelming aura and would be forced to fall to their knees. Even powerful magic users would be compelled to their knees by an Archon’s flared aura.

  Aura’s could also be concealed, allowing users to walk the streets without attracting attention or revealing their magical abilities. This skill required extensive practice and was one of the first skills taught to pact wielders. However, Reza and others like him possessed a unique ability to bypass people’s attempts to hide their auras. He could still sense the faint echo of their aura and perceive the color of their magical power. While he couldn’t determine the individual’s strength, he could discern that they possessed some level of magic.

  Archons, with their overwhelming power gap, could still conceal their auras, but few could achieve this level of perfection.

  Knowing all this, Reza had to end the fight swiftly. The young rider was dangerously weak, and the crimson color of his aura precariously flickered in and out of existence.

  In seconds, Reza sprinted the last hundred yards and noticed the riders focused solely on their target, oblivious to him. The early dawn light seemed insufficient to catch their attention, as if they couldn’t perceive a single man in the dim light.

  Without warning, Reza unleashed his power and materialized on the back of one of their horses. His dagger swiftly found its mark, piercing the rider’s neck and causing him to fall silently, his vocal cords severed. Reza searched for his wraith and, upon finding her, he activated his power once more. He appeared above the next rider, delivering a swift strike to the base of his dagger blade before swiftly switching to the next rider.

  Within seconds, half of the eight riders lay dead, and the remaining ones scattered in fear, likely sensing the presence of a formidable force within their ranks.

  By this time, the rest had realized they weren’t alone and abandoned the pursuit, keeping a cautious eye out for him. Reza paused, feeling his power waning slightly, despite still having ample strength to continue the fight. Regrettably, having been awake for over a day and compelled to move at his maximum speed to catch them before they killed the lone soldier, he had depleted a larger portion of his power than he would have preferred for a confrontation.

  He held both blades at his sides and prepared for the impending rush. Two assailants approached him, but he flared and materialized to the right, hurling his dagger, striking one of his opponents just below the ribs. The man fell silently from his horse, a bowstring snapping, and instinctively, Reza flared, perceiving an arrow pierce through his wraith’s ethereal form, harmlessly dissipating.

  Falling to the ground as another arrow shot past him, the hard paving stone forced the air out of his lungs, leaving him momentarily vulnerable. Allowing himself a brief moment to catch his breath and quickly regain his composure, Reza unleashed his power, jumping into the air. Horns blared in the distance, confirming that reinforcements were on their way, but it would still take time for them to reach the battlefield.

  With a lull in the fighting around him, as there were no soldiers alive within a few feet of him, Reza took a moment to orient himself and search for the lone soldier. It didn’t take long before he spotted the last three soldiers surrounding the young man, with his horse nowhere to be seen. The soldier appeared to be in a state of exhaustion, his aura constantly fluctuating. The signs of weariness were even more evident as he attempted to defend himself with a shakily held black sword, the blade dropping dangerously low, his eyes barely able to stay open. Standing right in front of him was a crimson wraith, protectively guarding the young man.

  Elana, Reza’s wraith, swiftly joined the other wraiths, and Reza flared, taking her place and cutting at the closest soldier, joining the young man in the fight.

  “Stay close, and we might just survive this,” Reza said, glancing at the teenager. He realized the young man nodded and kept his hands tightly clasped around the sword. The crimson glow of the wraith caught Reza’s attention. “What powers do you possess? And can you assist us?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve just made my pact, and I can barely keep this blade up,” The exhausted soldier looked on the verge of tears, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “My cousin was supposed to teach me.”

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  “Give me the sword,” Reza commanded, and the young man handed it over. The sword was undoubtedly the finest weapon he had ever encountered. The black sword felt perfectly balanced in his hand, as if it were an extension of his arm. In his grasp, Reza sensed the potential to slice through anything it touched. Beyond that, within seconds of holding the blade, Reza felt the power emanating from it; something profound and aware of him lay deep within the weapon. There was no time to comprehend the sensations emanating from the blade nor to attempt to understand how to harness such power. “Stay behind me.”

  Reza, prepared to end the fight with the young man hiding beside a small stone column at the road’s edge, he was caught off guard and forced to flare to escape their attack. One of the soldiers seemed to comprehend the fight better than the others and strategically stayed close to Elana.

  Damnit. Reza was compelled to use his sword to block the man’s blade, and they continued to fight for a few moments. The enemy soldier kept up with Reza’s disappearing attacks, countering each one effectively. Fortunately, the man’s sword skills proved insufficient in the end. Reza effortlessly used the black blade to slice through the man’s sword arm with ease, as if nothing could stop its path. The enemy soldier roared in pain, clutching the stub of his lost limb before a well-placed kick to the chest brought him to the ground.

  Reza flared and launched an attack on the remaining two soldiers. They had initially attempted to exploit Reza’s distraction with the other soldier to eliminate the exhausted young man. Recognizing that the fight was essentially over, Reza swiftly used the black blade to effortlessly cut through one of the two soldiers before switching to Elana once again.

  Turning his wrist at the last moment, Reza slammed the flat of his sword into the soldier’s ribs, shattering them. The soldier collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Reza swiftly kicked the blade out of the man’s grasp and held the black sword close to his neck, ready to strike if the soldier attempted anything reckless. By this point, Reza could hear more riders approaching, fortunately, from the direction of the city.

  “It would be best if you simply lay there, please,” Reza maintained his focus on the downed soldier, anticipating any foolish moves he might make, and the soldier did not disappoint.

  “Die, heathen,” the soldier spat blood at Reza’s boot, attempting to draw a dagger.

  Stepping closer, Reza kicked into the man’s broken ribs, leaning in for a closer look. “Now, why couldn’t you follow my instructions? Before I end your life, I need you to answer a single question: Who sent you here?”

  “Dernadan will send you to the Abyss,” he choked out a shuddering breath before he could utter another word. Reza held the sword at the man’s throat, its weight barely noticeable. With another pained breath, the man managed to speak once more. “He will burn this city.”

  Dernadan? Reza had never heard of him. Could he be the general or leader of the enemy force that was about to attack the city? Or perhaps he was some ruler declaring war against them? Each possibility was a significant leap in guessing Dernadan’s identity and his purpose in killing Marcellus. Unfortunately, Reza knew nothing about Dernadan. He would report the name to his superiors and the ten families, hoping that one of them would recognize him. If not, they would still have this soldier to interrogate for more answers.

  But with Dernadan’s name finally revealed, Reza was satisfied for the moment.

  “Be a dear and just lie there,” Reza growled, punching the man in the nose, causing it to crack under his knuckles before the man went still, unconscious.

  Reza checked over the unconscious soldier and was pleased to see that he would likely survive the wounds he had inflicted, unlike the others who had ridden with him. Examining the scene around him, it was evident that the seven other soldiers had succumbed to their injuries. Regrettably, Reza had not been focused on capturing more prisoners during the brief fight. His safety and the safety of the young soldier had been his top priorities. Despite this, Reza was still satisfied with his accomplishments this morning; saving the young man and one prisoner was a positive outcome.

  Having tied the prisoner’s hands with a bit of rope, Reza turned his attention to the rapidly approaching horses and the young man, though they were still a few minutes away. The soldier was exhausted and could barely maintain consciousness, his head held low, and he leaned against a small stone column at the edge of the main road leading to the city.

  Reza, the first question that came to mind, was, “Who are you? And why were these men chasing you?”

  The boy looked up at Reza, his exhaustion more evident, his eyes barely able to stay open. “Lukas Sulli,” he replied.

  Reza’s eyes widened, but Lukas remained oblivious, continuing to answer Reza’s question. “My cousin Marcellus…was an Archon and General of the Thirteenth,” he said, pausing briefly before resuming. “He saved me and instructed me to ride to the city.”

  Reza felt a surge of admiration for Lukas, but he knew better than to disrespect the deceased. If Lukas’s story were true, it was indeed a remarkable feat by the young man. It had been more than a day since he had been forced to leave his cousin’s side. This boy had been riding in the dark, pursued by those men for an entire duration.

  Damn, impressive. Reza had more than a few more questions about what happened to the young man’s cousin, but there would be time for that later. He honestly was surprised he got that much out of him. Lukas had to be running on pure remnants of adrenaline; his aura was barely identifiable, though it felt stronger than it was when Reza first noticed it.

  He’d have to get him to the city as soon as possible. The Sulli family was probably at their wit’s end with the events of the last day and would likely be very happy for some good news in these dark times.

  In a matter of moments, Reza gathered a couple of horses, knowing Lukas wouldn’t want to return to the city on foot. Lukas’s horse was severely injured and couldn’t be ridden until it was healed and cared for. It deserved every bit of attention it could receive for its role in rescuing the lad.

  Reza took one of the enemy’s horses for himself and helped Lukas into the saddle of the other. He waited until twenty soldiers approached them before jumping into the saddle himself.

  “This one’s still alive,” he called to the city guard officer, who came closer and pointed to the unconscious man lying next to the road. “I’m taking him to the city.”

  Without another word, Reza turned his horse and moved to Lukas’s side. The young man’s head was held low, and it seemed as though he was asleep before he lifted it to look at Reza.

  “Let’s get going. I’m sure there are many people who will be delighted to see you alive,” Reza said, grabbing the reins. With a light squeeze of his legs, he urged the horses towards the city.