The sun had long disappeared, swallowed by the suffocating darkness of night. The forest was silent, cold, and merciless.


    Lucian lay hidden, his breath shallow, and his pulse erratic.


    The enemy soldiers moved like shadows, creeping forward, unaware that death waited for them beneath their feet.


    Then—


    SNAP!


    A cry of pain tore through the silence.


    Lucian’s heart pounded. It worked.


    He sprang from his hiding spot, sprinting toward the noise—


    But the moment he arrived, his stomach twisted.


    The traps… had only slowed them down.


    Some soldiers bore small cuts, while others were already cutting through the snares with ease.


    Then—


    A voice, cold and razor-sharp, cut through the night.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "If there are traps, it means someone is here. Search the area!"


    Lucian froze.


    That voice… was different.


    It didn’t belong to some mindless soldier barking orders. It was controlled. Precise.


    Lucian peered through the darkness—and then he saw him.


    A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood in the torchlight, his armor black as the void, the insignia of the Velkan Empire carved into his breastplate. His eyes—sharp, calculating—glowed like burning embers.


    General Vadim "The Ravenous" Kholov.


    A brutal tactician. A master of psychological warfare. A man known for turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse before his blade even touched flesh.


    Vadim smirked, his scarred lips twisting into something almost amused.


    "Cowards lay traps when they can’t fight like men." His voice was calm, almost lazy, but the menace in it made the soldiers stiffen.


    Lucian’s gut twisted. He knew that name.


    Vadim Kholov didn’t just kill his enemies.


    He broke them first.


    Lucian turned and ran.


    His boots crushed dead leaves, twigs snapping beneath him. He barely saw the tree root before—


    THWACK!


    Lucian crashed face-first into the cold, unforgiving ground.


    Pain exploded through his ribs as he tumbled straight into one of his traps.


    A sharp branch pierced through his shoulder.


    He screamed, blood dripping onto the dirt.


    The enemy soldiers turned, their eyes narrowing.


    Vadim tilted his head.


    "There you are."


    Two men stalked toward him, their swords glinting in the moonlight.


    Lucian gritted his teeth, trying to move, but the pain was unbearable.


    The two soldiers grabbed him, yanking him out of the trap and shoving him to his knees.


    Vadim strode forward, towering over him.


    He crouched, gripping Lucian’s chin with cold, metal fingers.


    His gauntlet.


    A jagged, clawed thing—made from the melted-down blades of the enemies he had slaughtered.


    Lucian shuddered.