A Commander's Life-Debt
When the dust kicked up by the relentless arrow onslaught finally settled, the once teeming and vibrant canyon presented a scene of macabre destruction, torn from the darkest nightmares of Hades itself. Of the mass that had stood there moments before, only Jake and the conscript by his side remained; they were the sole survivors.
Amid the sprawl of fallen bodies, the two of them stuck out like a glitch in a matrix. Most chillingly, they were untouched — not a scratch, not a tear in their ragged clothing, and no blood marred their forms. It was as if the volley of arrows had consciously veered away from them, guided by some ethereal force.
However, the true story — if observed — lay in the shell-shocked expression on the face of the drunkard, who teetered to Jake's right. What this soused warrior had witnessed just moments ago was so jarring that it would forever redefine his perception of raw power.