Ethan wanted Lord Fallenwinter alive.
He believed Zael Fallenwinter was a capable leader who, if handled well, could become one of the pillars supporting Goldenveil's future.
If that proved impossible, however, Ethan would not hesitate to kill him.
The young lord let out a low growl, his grip on the sword firm as he climbed onto a small platform where the five mages who would participate in the initial phase of the battle were already positioned.
His blue eyes were cold as steel, and his fingers tightened around the hilt of the God-Slayer.
A sharp hiss echoed as the blade slid free of its sheath, revealing the gleaming metal bit by bit.
Ethan's eyes flashed gold, his lips parting. "Shields!" he roared.
The soldiers did not hesitate, raising their shields to form an almost instantaneous wall of metal, the coordinated thud echoing across the field like a single clap of thunder.
