Orion exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. The battlefield around him was a storm of chaos and steel, the fallen bodies of unconscious knights forming a circle of defeated foes. His movements were precise, each strike aimed to incapacitate rather than kill. He was no butcher—dead knights would only draw more pursuit. Instead, he moved like a specter, slipping between his enemies with effortless agility, disarming them before they could react, shattering their formations with devastating precision.
The remaining knights hesitated, their ranks thinning as Orion dispatched their comrades one by one. Their fear was palpable. Their leader lay crumpled on the ground, his jaw slack and eyes rolled back from Orion's earlier blow. The rest struggled to maintain their composure, torn between their duty and the growing realization that they were hopelessly outmatched.