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Chapter 14 - The Gathering Storm at the Ridge

The wind howled across the desolate expanse of the southern ridge, carrying the scent of impending carnage. On one side stood Malakor’s formidable iron legion, thousands of seasoned mercenaries and traitorous soldiers forming an unyielding wall of spikes and shields.

On the other side stood the defenders of the capital—a unified front of brave commoners, loyal palace guards, and elite resistance fighters.

At the very front of the line stood Julian, clad in light leather armor, his shoulder mark glowing brilliantly against the gathering gray clouds. Beside him towered the beast, letting out a low, menacing growl that made the enemy warhorses skittish and uneasy.

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Malakor rode forward on a massive black warhorse, sneering as he looked down at the boy.

"You should have stayed hiding in the gutters where you belonged, little rat!" Malakor roared, raising his blade. "Charge! Slaughter them all!"

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