The fight began at dawn.
Alistair went sector by sector, moving through the thick of the Therasian formation with his Rune Sword drawn.
The Equalizer matched each cluster as he moved through them, adjusting its output to whatever stood in front of him at that exact moment.
Without Domain Mode, brute force across the full formation was off the table for Alistair.
Small groups became his primary focus, and he spent the first few minutes slipping between them.
He used whatever sharp control remained in his scan to carve out pockets of the army one by one.
The first cluster of soldiers broke in under a minute.
There were three soldiers who expected coordination from the men beside them, but they found none because Due was already working his threads.
Due's disruption hit the formation from somewhere outside Alistair's clear awareness.
Men froze mid-swing for no visible reason, and spaces opened up in the ranks where they shouldn't have been.
Some soldiers found themselves pulled by strange compulsions that fought against their own orders.
Even in his weakened state, Due had strength enough to throw off an entire group of a thousand.
The line wavered, then it finally broke from within.
Alistair sensed Due near him, just outside his clear range.
'He is using up everything he has left.'
It only took four minutes to clear the first sector.
These were trained soldiers, but none had faced anyone who could read their Aspect signatures faster than they could act on them.
Each clash was handled separately by the Equalizer.
Alistair's footwork carried him through the gaps that Due was creating, and his sword did the rest.
However, the atmosphere changed suddenly.
A silence fell over the section of the field around him like a heavy weight.
It wasn't a loud change, but it was overwhelming, like clouds swallowing light before you notice rain is coming.
Sargus stood at the edge of the clearing.
He was larger than Alistair expected him to be.
He was muscular and broad, carrying himself with the quiet confidence of long practice.
Alistair was honestly impressed by the man's presence.
Sargus didn't just look skilled; his posture suggested he had never needed caution to win a fight.
Rune Armor covered his torso and arms.
It was dark metal with no markings, worn down by years of use rather than display.
The way he held his Rune Weapon showed years of repetition, each groove on the grip carved by relentless use.
It rested in his hand like an old habit.
The soldiers around them had already started pulling back.
They knew what was about to happen, and they wanted no part of being caught between the two of them.
Alistair clicked his tongue in annoyance.
'He looks annoying.'
Sargus moved first.
Wherever Alistair waited to react, Sargus pushed forward instead.
He used sequences that overextended his reach, which could have backfired on a normal soldier.
But his speed and strength pulled him out of the danger each time.
Sargus was immediate.
Every strike arrived faster than the last, closing the distance before Alistair's breath could catch up.
Alistair couldn't afford to split his focus on the other soldiers anymore.
This wasn't like fighting the scattered troops from before.
This required his total presence.
Sargus struck with a sharp diagonal cut.
The force of the impact shook Alistair's arm even through the block he set.
Sargus closed the distance fast, leaving no pause between his moves.
Alistair drifted back, putting space between them.
Sargus closed in again.
He wasn't retreating out of weakness, as he is the type to observe the enemy first.
Alistair watched the rage in the man's movements, looking for what hid beneath it.
Each furious strike held a specific shape underneath.
What flared outward was just the front, and something else was behind it.
The fight spun on for twenty minutes without a break.
Around them, the soldiers held back instinctively, the distance between the army and the duel growing without any signal being given.
Eventually, Alistair stopped retreating.
His usual caution faded away, replaced by something more direct.
All the numbers had finally settled in his mind.
After twenty minutes of studying Sargus at war, nothing more needed to be seen.
He moved forward, his eyes locked on Sargus despite the mess between them.
He went straight ahead, not skirting the wreckage of the battlefield but stepping directly into it.
The Equalizer cleared paths without Alistair having to think about it.
The device did its work while his focus stayed sharp on the target.
One target filled his mind, and nothing else mattered.
It was Sargus's patterns that told the story of how he would die.
When he was under pressure, three specific moves cycled through his mind again and again.
Whenever he overextended, he slipped into one of two recoveries without thinking about the risk.
That opening was a single weak line in his Edgeform.
It hid behind a lot of wild motion meant to distract an opponent.
Sargus moved forward again, using the same sequence that had beaten everyone before him.
He fully committed to the attack, relying on his speed to save him.
For just an instant, the gap appeared.
Alistair's Rune Sword slipped into the opening and traced the path perfectly.
Sargus fell.
His blood spilled across the dry ground, creating a red pool where the morning light caught it.
He dropped where all the soldiers could see him.
A hush came over the field then.
It wasn't the kind of silence that happens after fighting.
It was the kind where everyone sees something impossible at once.
A commander of Therasia had fallen.
The one the soldiers trusted for every step of the way was now lying still.
The Sovereign Debt didn't activate.
Alistair sensed it immediately through his scan.
There wasn't a flicker of revival or any sign of power.
There was only silence where power once waited to pull someone back from the brink of death.
Caldren let him fall.
This reality hit the soldiers before their minds could even catch up.
They had spent years under Sargus, taking promotions and giving their loyalty freely.
Now all of that was tied to a body at their feet, and the Duke hadn't deemed him worth saving.
Hearing this silence, Alistair understood something plainly.
Sargus was expendable.
To the Duke he served, he had always been nothing more than a tool.
Alistair was taken away by the coldness of it, especially considering how loyal the soldiers seemed.
Over at the edge of the field, Valve froze.
Not a single movement came from him as he watched his comrade die.
Alistair still hadn't laid eyes on the figure directly.
But the scan detected a shift in Valve's signature.
It was a steady signature that was now laced with a raw, heavy weight.
The feeling was arriving before the mind could process it.
'Grief.'
Alistair left the body where it fell.
Across the field, Valve waited, separated by rows of soldiers and whatever emotion had just taken hold of him.
Around Sargus's still form, the troops began to pull away slowly.
A few locked eyes on Alistair with something wordless on their faces.
A handful of them stayed locked in motion, their muscle memory moving their limbs because their orders had long gone silent.
Three more commanders remained in the field.
The fifth suppressed reading was still in place, still hiding and waiting for its moment.
Following that, there was movement from deep within the formation.
Alistair detected three Aspects moving together.
It wasn't one person with one power.
It was one person with three, the readings layered and coordinated together.
It was the output of someone who had prepared for every version of this fight.
Ace stepped forward through the ranks of the soldiers.
Alistair's eyes narrowed as he looked at him across the field.
Three Aspects.
They weren't the strongest individual readings he had ever seen, but they were the most complete.
This man was the most prepared.
Alistair's Rune Sword was still in his hand, and Sargus's blood was still on the blade.
The morning light caught the red liquid as it dripped.
Alistair adjusted his grip and walked forward to meet the next one.