Chapter 355: Time To Finish The War
Lucan’s final scream tore through the battlefield as he charged, his sword blazing with the remnants of his magic. His legs pushed him forward, even though they trembled under the weight of exhaustion. His heart pounded in his chest, louder than the clashing of steel and the cries of soldiers.
(One last strike...)
The world seemed to blur around him as he focused solely on Lyan. He could barely feel the burning heat of his enchanted sword, barely notice the weight of his armor. All he could see was Lyan, calm and poised, the massive glaive shimmering in the pale moonlight, waiting for him.
And then, in an instant, it was over.
Lyan moved. His glaive, with a single, graceful arc, sliced through the air faster than Lucan could process. Lucan’s body, still in mid-stride, didn’t even have a chance to react as the gleaming blade cleaved through him.
The world seemed to slow down for a moment. Lucan’s vision blurred as his sword fell from his hands, the flames extinguishing before the blade even hit the ground. He felt weightless, as though his body had lost all connection to the earth. His vision tilted, and before he realized what had happened, his head was no longer attached to his body.
The sound of his head hitting the dirt echoed louder than the clamor of battle, and for a moment, the battlefield stilled as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Lucan’s body slumped to the ground, his once proud stance now nothing more than a crumpled heap of armor. Blood soaked the dirt, glistening under the moon’s soft glow.
The fight that had raged within him—the desperation, the pride, the need to prove himself—all disappeared in that single moment. His head rolled a few feet away, eyes still wide in shock, as if they hadn’t fully comprehended the reality of defeat.
Lyan stood there, his glaive lowered, watching Lucan’s headless body collapse to the ground. There was no malice in his eyes, no gloating in his stance. He didn’t relish this victory. He had merely done what needed to be done.
"He fought well," Lyan murmured under his breath, his voice almost respectful, as if he were offering a tribute to the fallen. He wiped his glaive clean of the blood and sheathed it behind him. The battlefield had grown eerily quiet, the soldiers around them seeming frozen in place, too stunned to react.