Jax had predicted almost every step.
They would arrive in overwhelming numbers.
They would see him standing alone.
They would panic.
Then they would do exactly what frightened people with too much power always did.
They would try to control the battlefield.
The anti-summoning ritual had been the obvious move. The Empire had built its entire counterstrategy around the belief that Jax Darquebane's greatest strength was his shadow army. Block the shadows, block the man. Cut him off from his summoned monsters, and suddenly he was just one warrior standing before an empire.
That was what they thought.
That was what Jax needed them to think.
Dark clouds still churned overhead, swallowing the sun. The spell had created an unnatural twilight over the plain, muting the colors of the field and casting every soldier in shades of gray.
The only real light came from the ten portals now blazing across the battlefield.
Each one burned like a captured sunrise.
Gold.
Blue.
Violet.
White.
Crimson.
Their glow spilled across armor, weapons, faces, and banners. The Empire's soldiers stared at them in disbelief as armies continued pouring through.
It had been perfect.
The fake boulders.
The concealed gates.
The illusion magic.
The staged obituary.
The silence around his movements.
Jax had let the Empire believe they were marching toward an execution.
Instead, they had walked into a declaration.
The United Kingdoms stood behind him.
Not as scattered tribes.
Not as desperate rebels.
Not as divided races clinging to their own survival.
Together.
Elves.
Rabbitkin.
Fairies.
Wolfkin.
Catfolk.
Dwarves.
Minotaurs.
Demonfolk.
Merchants.
Adventurers.
Farmers in borrowed armor.
Soldiers from cities that had once distrusted each other.
Friends.
Allies.
Family.
The Vixens stood closest.
Llandra, radiant and composed, Starpiercer glowing in her hand.
Nyxian, wings unfurled, crimson eyes burning with wicked confidence.
Bunny, hammer resting across her shoulder, blue hair dancing in the wind.
Zee, Sanctaris gripped tightly, holy light still shimmering around her from the spell she had just shattered.
Pixelle and Lexi hovered nearby, small but fierce.
Behind them waited Jax's shadows.
Nearly one thousand strong.
Dante's wings loomed above the field, the Flame Dragon's body now larger and more terrifying than it had been in life.
Rootzilla towered like an ancient nightmare of wood, vines, and fury.
Charlotte's many legs shifted against the ground.
Fang coiled low, massive and silent.
Gryph screeched once into the open air.
The named shadows were only the beginning.
Jax stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
His army did not follow.
The shadows waited.
The Vixens waited.
The United Kingdoms waited.
Jax walked alone until he reached the center of the killing field.
Halfway between two worlds.
Behind him stood the future.
Before him stood the past.
He lifted Peacemaker slightly and let the massive double-bladed sword rest against his shoulder.
Then he activated his voice amplification.
When he spoke, he did not shout.
He did not need to.
His voice reached every soldier as if he stood only a foot away.
"The United Kingdoms have neither sought out nor wanted conflict with the Empire."
The battlefield grew still.
Even the Empire's front ranks hesitated.
Jax's eyes moved across them.
Not just the generals.
Not just the royal guards.
The soldiers.
The men and women holding spears, shields, bows, and swords because someone had told them they had no other choice.
"In truth, we would have preferred trade. Peace. Roads shared between nations. Markets open to every race. Prosperity for every family represented on this field today."
His voice hardened.
"But your leaders would not allow that."
A murmur passed through the Imperial ranks.
Jax continued.
"You have been taught a version of history built on lies. You were told the Empire was founded to protect humanity from savage beastkin nations. You were told a summoned hero created your kingdom to dominate the lesser races."
He paused.
"That is not the truth."
Far behind the Imperial lines, the King stiffened.
The Queen's eyes narrowed.
Jax raised Peacemaker and pointed it toward the army.
"The summoned hero of old, Adam Lightbringer, did not crave slavery. He did not build his legacy on chains. He fought because he had to, but he wanted peace between nations."
Jax lowered the blade.
"And so do I."
The words rolled across the field.
Some Empire soldiers shifted uncomfortably.
Some looked to their officers.
Some looked at the armies behind Jax and saw not monsters, but people standing together.
Jax took another step forward.
"But peace cannot exist under a narcissistic parasite of a king and a manipulative queen corrupted by the very Chaos God they pretend to oppose."
The reaction was immediate.
The King's face twisted with rage.
The Queen went terrifyingly still.
Jax dragged Peacemaker through the dirt.
The blade carved a long, deep line across the battlefield.
Dust curled around the wound in the earth.
"For those who do not cross this line to attack us, you will be spared."
The statement froze the field.
"For those who do not fire arrows, launch spells, or raise weapons against the United Kingdoms, you will not be harmed."
He looked from one side of the Imperial army to the other.
"Our war is not with the people of the Empire."
His gaze sharpened.
"It is with your leadership."
The royal guards tightened formation.
Jax saw them.
The Queen's chosen.
The King's butchers.
The ones tied to the slave guild.
The ones who had enforced the worst orders without hesitation.
His expression darkened.
"Or at least… that is true for most of you."
A chill moved through the front ranks.
Jax rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck once like a man preparing for work.
"You can stand and die defending a tyrant who will spend your lives like copper coins, or you can stand still and live long enough to see what comes after him."
His voice lowered.
"This is not a warning."
A pause.
"It is a promise."
He tapped Peacemaker against the line in the dirt.
"The choice is yours."
For a few seconds, no one moved.
Then the King's amplified voice exploded across the field.
"You insolent corpse!"
Unlike Jax's system-born amplification, the King's voice boomed unnaturally, harsh and distorted like thunder through a cracked horn.
The King had been escorted outside the royal caravan, surrounded by his elite guard and standing beside the Queen. Though he was only in his forties, he looked decades older. Frail beneath expensive armor. Overweight. Pale. His face red with humiliation.
"You will not leave this battlefield alive!"
The King pointed toward Jax with a shaking hand.
"We will erase the United Kingdoms from history! You will become nothing but a footnote! A failed rebellion crushed under the heel of the true Empire!"
Jax said nothing.
He let him talk.
The King's voice became uglier.
"Those we spare, if we spare any, will serve us in chains. Your cities will be stripped. Your wealth seized. Your families broken. Your women, your men, your children—all property of the Empire!"
The Imperial soldiers shifted again.
This time, not with pride.
With discomfort.
The King did not notice.
Or did not care.
"You are nothing! All of you! Beastkin filth! Demon-blooded degenerates! Traitors to mankind! We will wash this field clean with your blood!"
His madness spilled out freely now.
"And any soldier of mine who refuses to fight will join them as traitors! Your lands will be seized! Your families punished! Your names erased! Stand back, and you doom every person who shares your blood!"
That struck harder than any rallying cry.
The soldiers of the Empire trembled.
Not from courage.
From fear.
Many did not want this war.
Many did not want to charge the monsters standing behind Jax.
But they remembered the hangings.
The cullings.
The arrests.
The families dragged away over whispered accusations.
The King had always made good on his cruelty.
He screamed one final command.
"Attack now! Either die by his hands and spare your families, or stand back and watch your families sold to those loyal to their king!"
Still, there was hesitation.
Not a glorious surge.
Not a unified roar.
Only the Queen's guard and the Chaos-bound officers moved with certainty.
Some units began forward.
Others faltered.
Some looked at the line in the dust like it had become the edge of the world.
Jax stood alone in the center of the battlefield.
The armies behind him waited.
The army before him fractured.
He stared past the soldiers.
Past the generals.
At the King.
Then he amplified his voice one final time.
"Okay, King."
Jax reached back with Peacemaker, drawing the great blade behind him as if preparing to hurl it across the battlefield.
The charging soldiers saw the movement and braced.
The generals shouted orders.
The King's eyes widened.
Jax smiled.
"This is when you die."
Then, under his breath, too softly for anyone but himself to hear, he whispered—
"Exchange."