"Hell flames!" Aaron commanded sharply, stretching his hand outward in a commanding gesture.

From his palm, flames of hell erupted forth in a roaring torrent, burning every knight within a hundred-meter radius around him to crisp, the heat warping the air into shimmering waves.

The air was filled with the acrid smell of burnt flesh, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the crackle of dying embers.

Corpses of knights burnt to ash and dust by the hell flames lay scattered on the ground, their armor melted into twisted remnants.

Aaron landed gracefully on the charred ground, his visage and presence striking profound fear in the heart of every surviving knight, their faces pale beneath their visors.

"Don't you dare cower in front of the enemy. Kill him with all you've got!" The general screamed desperately, trying to boost the already diminishing morale, his voice cracking under the strain.

Despite the words of the general, the remaining knights alive still showed visible fear toward Aaron, their hands trembling on their weapons.

But yet, their sense of duty outweighed their fear as they pressed on even more determinedly, charging forward with gritted teeth.

"I must say, their willpower is very strong," Aaron praised genuinely, a note of respect in his tone amid the destruction.

Standing amongst the ashes like the bringer of death himself, Aaron swept his gaze around the encircled knights, his posture relaxed yet commanding.

"Out of mercy, I will spare any knights that surrender and withdraw from the battle. But if you wish to still fight against me, then be ready for death," Aaron said evenly, offering an olive branch to the knights, his voice carrying across the battlefield like a final warning.

Some of the knights stared at each other uncertainly, whispers passing between them as they weighed taking Aaron's offer or not, doubt flickering in their eyes.

"I will be the first to cut down anyone that surrenders," the commander warned harshly, trying his best to keep his soldiers in check, his sword drawn threateningly.

"You are beginning to be annoying," Aaron stated flatly, staring at the general with growing irritation over the man who only issued commands from afar.

Controlling space with effortless command, Aaron altered the coordinates of the general, pulling him forward through the air toward him in a disorienting rush.

"Let's have a spar," Aaron smiled at the general, holding Black Sphere firmly, his eyes alight with challenge.

The general had a shocked and grave look on his face, his composure shattering.

His face was drained of color, standing so close to Aaron that he could feel the residual heat from the flames.

Out of reflex, he pulled his sword from its scabbard and made for a desperate stab at Aaron's chest, his hand shaking.

His attack was easily parried by Aaron, the clash sending his sword flying away from his hands in a spinning arc.

"What are you all doing?!! Cover for me!!" The general yelled in panic, taking hurried steps back as he tried to run away from Aaron's reach, his boots slipping on the ash-covered ground.

"Stop being a fucking coward and face me like you said!" Aaron yelled at the general, frustration boiling over as he threw Black Sphere toward him.

Black Sphere morphed once more into a javelin spear, flying smoothly through the air with deadly accuracy.

The general felt overwhelming fear, seeing the spear rushing toward him, terror overtaking his features.

"Hikkk," the general made a funny, choked sound, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for the arriving death as Black Sphere caught up to him in a blur.

Clang!

"Oh?"

The spear was parried away with a resounding clash, drawing an impressed and surprised look on Aaron's face, his eyebrows arching.

Standing between the general and the deflected Black Sphere was a man in expensive, battle-worn armor, with golden flowing hair and piercing pale blue eyes that burned with resolve.

The armor of the man was covered in dust and ashes, and rubble from collapsed walls, the grime clinging to its once-polished surface.

His face was also smeared with the same dirt, streaks of soot marking his determined expression.

"General Maxwell. Thank goodness you arrived just in time," the general said in an excited voice, glad that he got to live, his relief palpable as he exhaled shakily.

General Maxwell stared at the general with disgust for only a second, his lip curling briefly, before focusing back on Aaron with intense focus.

The general had gained his role through nepotism, placed as a leader for only his tactical brilliance with no real fighting ability attached to it, a fact that grated on true warriors like Maxwell.

With General Maxwell present, the general retreated quickly to the rear, scurrying away like a shadow.

After taking the risk and putting his life in danger, General Maxwell had helped those unaware and stuck within the castle to escape, guiding them through smoke and debris.

"You bastard! Do you know how many lives were lost to that attack of yours?!" General Maxwell yelled furiously, enraged by Aaron's action of attacking the castle, his voice thundering with righteous anger.

General Maxwell drew out his swords—two twin blades, one a longer blade than the other, each humming with latent power.

One of the blades crackled with lightning that danced around like a hungry beast, sparks arcing wildly across its edge.

While the other, which was shorter, was enveloped in pitch darkness, signifying the element of shadow, tendrils of black mist coiling around it ominously.

"What's the status?" Desirus, who was still at the rear, asked the general that had arrived there as well, his tone impatient.

"General Maxwell is at the forefront challenging the enemy. You need not worry, my lord," the general informed, a proud look on his face as if he was the one being praised, puffing out his chest.

"About time he showed up," Desirus nodded his head approvingly, a satisfied smile spreading on his face, confident in their victory with Maxwell around.

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