General Valen had forgotten what defeat looked like.
Not because he had never lost.
Because he had not lost in decades.
An overwhelming army.
A frightened enemy.
One final demand.
Then surrender.
That was how wars were won.
That was how empires expanded.
That was how lesser nations learned their place.
This...
This was something else.
The battlefield no longer belonged to the Empire.
It belonged to one man.
Jax Darquebane.
Valen searched through the smoke.
Where was he?
Only moments earlier, the young merchant had stood calmly watching the battle unfold while his shadows dismantled an army.
Now...
He had vanished.
A knot tightened in Valen's stomach.
A sharp detonation echoed through the canyon.
Not a bowstring.
Not a spell.
Something different.
A battle mage nearly fifty yards away jerked violently before collapsing backwards.
Half his helm simply... disappeared.
Another thunderous crack.
A captain fell.
Another.
Another.
Valen finally found him.
Jax walked through the battlefield as though taking an evening stroll.
Twin pistols rested comfortably in his hands, intricate runes glowing brighter each time they fired.
One report.
One death.
One step.
Another report.
Another corpse.
No panic.
No wasted motion.
Only rhythm.
Imperial soldiers charged from every direction.
Jax welcomed them.
He pivoted gracefully, one heel gliding across the stone as the first pistol barked.
An officer fell before drawing his blade.
The motion continued naturally into a slow spin.
The second pistol fired twice.
Two battle mages collapsed before their spells could form.
His coat swept around him like a dancer's cloak.
Every graceful turn placed another Imperial soldier directly before one of the glowing barrels.
Death followed the choreography.
It wasn't combat.
It was performance.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Terrifying.
"Surround him!" Valen roared.
Nearly a hundred soldiers answered.
Veterans.
Shield bearers.
Chaos-blessed warriors.
They closed from every direction.
For one heartbeat...
Valen believed numbers would prevail.
Jax smiled.
His boots touched empty air.
One invisible step.
Another.
Another.
He climbed the wind itself before dropping directly into the center of the formation.
His pistols roared.
Magic burst from the twin pistols like condensed fireballs released through impossibly narrow channels.
Every shot detonated with brutal precision.
One shot.
One kill.
Another turn.
Another corpse.
Another elegant step.
Another life ended.
Entire formations disappeared around him.
No missed shots.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Only flawless execution.
Above them, Dante continued circling.
The great Flame Dragon never attacked.
He didn't need to.
Every slow pass of those enormous wings cast another shadow across the canyon.
Ash drifted lazily from his jaws.
Soldiers abandoned open ground.
Some hid beneath rocky overhangs.
Others pressed themselves against the canyon walls.
Every pair of eyes glanced skyward.
Waiting.
Wondering if the dragon would choose them next.
Fear alone had broken what remained of the Imperial formation.
Elsewhere, the black-armored commander continued his relentless advance.
Valen had watched Warden for what felt like hours.
The shadow never slowed.
Never tired.
Never breathed.
The Imperial champion who had pursued him now lay dead where the duel had finally ended.
The realization struck Valen harder than any sword.
You could not exhaust something that was already dead.
"My General!"
Valen turned.
One of his oldest lieutenants staggered toward him.
Only a shallow cut marked the man's forearm.
Nothing more.
Yet his legs no longer obeyed him.
"My General..."
He reached toward Valen.
"...help..."
His fingers stopped moving.
His body stiffened.
Then collapsed face-first onto the stone.
Dead.
Valen looked across the battlefield.
How many others had suffered the same fate?
A scratch.
Nothing more.
The serpent wasn't killing men.
It was touching them.
And that was enough.
His army continued to shrink.
Not because every soldier lacked courage.
Valen noticed something unsettling.
Those throwing down their weapons...
Were being ignored.
The shadows flowed around them.
Left them alive.
Only those who continued fighting...
Especially the officers.
Especially the soldiers still shouting Imperial battle cries...
Were being hunted without mercy.
Why?
He couldn't understand it.
His thoughts drifted back.
No sign of Jax Darquebane.
No organized resistance.
Crescent City preparing to surrender.
The reports.
They had all been true.
Just...
Not for him.
They had been written so he would believe exactly what Jax wanted him to believe.
The battle had begun long before his army entered the canyon.
The thunder of the magical pistols finally ceased.
Silence.
Valen looked up.
Jax calmly holstered the twin pistols.
Hope flickered.
Perhaps...
Perhaps the worst had passed.
Then the merchant reached over his shoulder.
He drew a weapon so impossibly large that Valen almost laughed.
A massive double-bladed sword.
Far too large for any man.
Finally...
Something familiar.
A sword.
Something he understood.
Jax swung once.
The air screamed.
Five charging soldiers vanished beneath a single sweeping arc.
The force of the strike alone hurled another dozen backward across the canyon floor.
Valen's hope disappeared.
He understood nothing.
"We can still negotiate!" Valen shouted.
"I have the Queen's favor!"
Jax stopped.
For one impossible heartbeat...
Valen believed he had reached him.
"She listens to me!"
"I can speak to her!"
"I can end this!"
Jax's expression softened.
Almost sympathetically.
"Oh..."
Relief flooded through Valen.
"...she'll hear from you."
Valen nodded desperately.
"Yes..."
Jax rested Peacemaker across one shoulder.
"Just not the way you expected."
Valen charged.
He was still one of the Empire's Twelve.
Still a General.
Still a warrior.
His sword flashed toward Jax.
The merchant stepped aside as effortlessly as though avoiding a falling leaf.
Peacemaker moved.
One clean arc.
Valen landed several feet away.
He frowned.
He wasn't hurt.
He looked down.
His sword arm slipped quietly from his shoulder. His sword was cleaning cut in half.
It struck the stone with a dull clang.
Pain arrived a heartbeat later.
A second swing.
His legs vanished beneath him.
He collapsed. Still upright.
The world tilted.
Agony crashed over him.
Still...
Jax did not rush.
He walked forward with the same calm certainty he had shown since the battle began.
No anger.
No hatred.
Only judgment.
"You threatened every man, woman, and child under my protection."
Valen struggled to breathe.
"It... was... politics..."
Jax nodded once.
"That's what I thought."
Peacemaker rose again.
Another precise strike.
The arm that had signed slave warrants fell beside the first.
Valen could barely see.
The battlefield blurred around him.
The dragon still circled overhead.
The shadows still advanced with perfect discipline.
The merchant...
The merchant had defeated an army.
Not through strength alone.
Through preparation.
Patience.
Strategy.
The reports.
The spies.
The canyon.
Every step...
Every decision...
Had belonged to Jax before the first Imperial soldier had ever drawn a weapon.
He had not lost today.
He had lost days ago.
Jax looked down at him.
"When you try to take more than you're capable of..."
"...you owe the difference."
Valen could no longer answer.
"I'm the Debt Collector."
Peacemaker caught the afternoon sun.
For the first time since entering Crescent Moon Canyon...
General Valen understood what his debt truly was.
Not gold.
Not territory.
Not power.
His life.
"And the bill..."
The blade rose.
"...is due."