One step. Two steps. Ten steps.

Slow and composed, Aaron walked deliberately toward the hordes of knights, each of his measured steps resonating with deep fear in the hearts of most knights, their armored forms trembling slightly under the weight of his unyielding presence.

"Don't cower before the enemy. Use the crescent formation," the commander ordered firmly, his voice brimming with unshakeable confidence that bolstered the waning morale of the knights, igniting a spark of resolve in their eyes.

The knights followed the order of the general with perfect coordination, their movements honed from years of rigorous training.

The front ranks split down the middle, parting like a relentless tide to either side of the dusty battlefield.

Each wing curved outward in a sweeping arc, riding along the flanks before gradually bending back inward to form a wide, encompassing crescent that shimmered under the harsh sunlight.

At its heart, the formation left an open space, an illusion of vulnerability meant to lure the enemy deeper into the trap.

But as soon as the target advanced, the wings would fold inward with deadly precision, closing the curve and trapping him at the center, surrounded by sharpened steel and unyielding determination.

The formation was carried out swiftly, leaving Aaron flanked on all sides with no apparent escape route, the knights' shields locking together like an unbreakable wall.

With Aaron trapped, the general wore a confident look on his face, misinterpreting Aaron's stillness while his knights executed their plan as a sign of weakness, his lips curling into a smug sneer.

Aaron stared at the knights with their confident and oppressive visages, a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement at their misguided assurance.

With his knights in place, the commander signaled them to carry out the next phase of the formation, his hand slicing through the air in a sharp gesture.

With clear understanding of the command given, the knights formed a perfect ring around Aaron.

They moved rhythmically in unison, taking each step at the same deliberate pace as they closed in on him from all sides, the ground rumbling faintly under their synchronized boots.

The knights at the core front of the formation held long spears poised and ready, their tips glinting menacingly as they continued to tighten the formation, while Aaron remained standing still, unfazed by the encroaching threat.

"Quite the disciplined soldiers you have. But sadly, discipline doesn't win battles in the face of absolute might," Aaron commented casually, his voice carrying over the tension-filled air, finally ready to act with a spark of excitement in his gaze.

"We will see about that," the general snorted derisively, giving the next command with a sharp wave of his arm.

The spearmen, following the next phase of the command, stabbed their spears toward Aaron from all directions, confident in his inability to escape the converging points of lethal metal.

Aaron, quickly proving them wrong, leaped lightly into the air before the spears could reach him, his body twisting with effortless grace.

He landed precisely on the heads of the spears converging together like a seasoned warrior, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he balanced there momentarily, the wood creaking under his weight.

"Spearmen, withdraw your spears and retreat. Swordsmen, take the front and strike him!" The general commanded urgently, following up with the next move in his tactical playbook, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The knights obeyed without hesitation, retreating their spears in a hurried pull, the shafts scraping against one another.

But Aaron didn't plan to play defense throughout the battle, his mind shifting to offense with predatory intent.

Switching to taking the initiative, Aaron ran quickly along the tops of the spears that were being withdrawn, his feet light and sure on the unstable surfaces.

Reaching one of the knights at the end, he stepped firmly on the knight's helmeted head, using it as a springboard to leap higher into the air, the metal denting slightly under the force.

Aaron swung his sword downward afterward, slicing cleanly through a nearby knight while disrupting the tight formation, sending ripples of confusion through the ranks.

The knights closest to Aaron grabbed the opportunity amid the brief disarray.

Those in front of Aaron, wielding heavy swords, swung their blades at him with powerful arcs, while the spearmen behind him thrust forward for a decisive stab, their weapons whistling through the smoke-tinged air.

Aaron easily deflected the swords of the knights in front of him with a swift parry, the clash of metal echoing sharply, while remaining acutely aware of the spear stabs coming from behind.

Just a few inches from the spear piercing him, Aaron ducked low with fluid agility, allowing the sharpened tip to pass harmlessly over his head, stirring his hair in its wake.

With a low grunt of effort, he rose sharply, cutting the spear in half on his ascent with a precise swing of his sword, the severed pieces clattering to the ground.

Drawing a wide arc with his sword, he cut down the spearmen behind him in one sweeping motion, sparing them only a quick, dismissive glance before shifting his sights to the other knights attacking with their swords, their faces twisted in determination.

One of the spearmen dodged Aaron's attack narrowly, receiving just a shallow scratch across his arm, the cut burning faintly.

With his spear broken and useless, he threw it aside in frustration, reaching for the hilt of his sword at his side.

The knight unsheathed his sword with a metallic ring, ready to reengage in the fray, his breath heavy and ragged.

But without any clue to the other knights beside him, he suddenly fell to the ground, life absent from his wide-open eyes, his body collapsing in a heap.

His body remained perfectly fine aside from the slight cut, with no other injury visible on his armored form.

But his soul had been burned away to nothing by Aaron's insidious flames that had seeped into the spearman's body from the wound, consuming him from within like an unseen inferno.

In the heat of the battle, the other knights paid no heed to their fallen brother, the clamor of combat drowning out any notice.

All their concentration was pinned on bringing Aaron down rather than mourning a fallen comrade, their weapons raised high.

Aaron sidestepped gracefully, dodging another stab with ease, and with a powerful swing of his sword, he cut down the attacking knight, blood spraying in a brief arc.

Black Sphere, in perfect sync with Aaron's thoughts, morphed seamlessly from a sword into a long spear, its form elongating with a subtle hum.

Gripping the spear tightly in both hands, Aaron stabbed several knights in rapid succession, skewering them like steaks on a spit, their bodies convulsing briefly.

Withdrawing the spear from the bodies of the knights he had impaled, Aaron thrust it into the ground with force, using it as a pole to lift himself high above the fray, soaring over the heads of the remaining knights.

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