The blackened earth of the Aethelgard borderlands shattered as a thirty-foot behemoth of pure, writhing Chaos crashed into the dirt.
Before the beast could regenerate its severed limbs, a figure clad in gleaming, heavy plate armor slammed into its chest like a meteor.
It was Marcus Thorne.
He didn't bother dodging the acidic blood spraying from the creature's maw. He simply raised his massive broadsword, the blade igniting with a blinding, golden light, and drove it straight down through the monster's skull.
The shockwave from the impact leveled the surrounding dead trees for a hundred yards.
Marcus ripped the blade free and exhaled, a localized aura of golden mana burning the remaining Chaos corruption right off his armor.
Three years ago, he had been wearing a tailored suit, sipping overpriced scotch at his high school reunion, and managing a multi-million dollar hedge fund.
Now, he was a Vanguard Champion of the Fourth Continent.
