Belisarius wasn't finished yet.
Ebren had taken a few steps forward, his back turned, catching his breath after the swing but his instincts hadn't gone silent. There was a knot in his throat, a weight on his shoulders. A voice inside whispered: "Turn around."
He tilted his head slightly and there he saw it: Belisarius, looming like a shadow wrenched from the dark, his devilish grin spreading slow and cruel across his face. His massive arms were raised high, palms clasped together like a sledgehammer ready to fall.
"Now."
Belisarius gathered all his strength in his hulking muscles and brought those giant hands crashing down onto Ebren's back like a warhammer from the gods.
The sound echoed like a stone crashing into a mountain's heart.
The stone floor beneath Ebren's knees cracked.
His body buckled instantly, folding to the ground. A sharp, sickening crack rang out — a bone had broken.
Ebren's face contorted in pain. His breath hitched. His fingers trembled. He lay there, body crushed under the force, but his mind was still present. Still burning.
His eyes were fixed to the floor. A low growl escaped through clenched teeth.
Belisarius leaned over him, his fingers casually gliding across Ebren's back as if admiring his own work. His voice was a cruel whisper of pride:
"You don't take down giants with party tricks, little jester."
Meanwhile, Aurelius and Attila had been silently observing the chaos. A smug smirk curled further across Aurelius's lips as he spoke with mockery laced in every syllable:
"While we're here exchanging pleasantries... your dear Ebren is being toyed with by Belisarius. Not that you've noticed."
Attila's face flushed crimson. His jaw clenched, fists tightening wordlessly at his sides. His eyes darted toward Ebren, ready to spring into action but then, in the blink of an eye, Aurelius appeared directly in front of him.
His eyes shimmered with cunning, his mouth twisted into a condescending grin. Attila stared deep into his gaze, his voice cutting through the space like frost.
"No... I am done with you."
Suddenly, Attila threw a punch but it missed, grazing just inches past Aurelius's cheek.
Aurelius tilted his head back slightly, that smug smile blossoming , the grin of a man convinced he'd won. But then he noticed something strange: Attila had vanished.
A chill brushed the nape of his neck. A shadow swept across his vision. He looked up and the only thing he saw was Attila, plummeting like a thunderbolt from the sky.
Attila was airborne, heel aimed squarely for Aurelius's head. The blow struck with brutal precision despite Aurelius's crossed-arm defense , the force drove him to both knees.
The marble floor cracked under the impact's echo, but Attila wasn't finished.
Landing softly, fluid as a predator, he spun and unleashed another strike — the top of his foot connecting sharply.
Aurelius, still kneeling, was torn from the ground like a broken statue, hurled across the throne hall.
He slammed against the stone wall with a thunderous crack, shoulders crumpling under the force. Silence fell across the chamber, heavy and stunned.
Attila's eyes turned once more to Ebren blazing with resolve, sparking with fury.
He took a single step, ready to rush to his friend's side but before his foot touched the ground, a sharp thunk rang out from below.
A heavy spear embedded itself right before him, tip buried deep in the marble. But it wasn't just any weapon, it was Caesar's scepter.
Until now, Caesar had sat motionless on his throne, watching like an audience before a stage. Now, finally, he had stepped onto the scene. His voice was glacial as it filled the chamber.
"That's enough, You're not going anywhere, Attila."
His voice was deep, calm, and full of menace. Then, in a single swift motion, he shed the ornate cloak he wore. Beneath it was black armor, seeming to absorb light as if woven from shadows themselves. He threw the cloak toward Attila. As the cloak fell heavily to the ground, Attila realized Caesar was not seated on the throne. Suddenly… he was behind him!
The moment Attila sensed footsteps approaching close behind him, he instinctively bent forward with agility, dropping one knee to the ground. At the same time, he swung his leg upward and delivered a reverse kick to Caesar's jaw. Caesar staggered backward from the impact. Attila gritted his teeth and murmured coldly.
"I don't have time to deal with you right now."
Without blinking, Attila lunged for his sword, which was embedded in the marble pillar right beside the throne. The instant his fingers grasped the hilt, he was thrown back like lightning and redirected his steps toward where Belisarius stood. The echo of his footsteps on the stone floor was the sound of determination and fury.
Meanwhile, Belisarius stood over Ebren like an executioner, preparing for a third lethal blow. While Attila was dealing with Caesar and Aurelius, Belisarius had landed another blow on Ebren. His broad, muscular arms raised like a war hammer, his eyes devoid of mercy, filled only with the desire to deliver the final strike…
But those hands… before they could reach Ebren's body… A sword sliced through the air like lightning, passing straight through Belisarius's clasped hands. A scream rang out.
"AAAAAGH!"
The sword didn't just pierce his hands; it pinned them to the stone wall behind him. The massive warrior trembled in pain. The sword had been thrown by Attila. He had realized he wouldn't reach in time, but his instincts and aim had saved Ebren from death. For a moment… he felt relief. His eyes shifted to Ebren, but then—
A burning, freezing, piercing pain struck his back. Attila's eyes briefly glazed over. His breath hitched in his chest. When he turned around, he saw Caesar standing tall in the middle of the hall. There was no pity on his face, only a haughty pride mixed with satisfaction. His fingers spread wide. A spear…
The silver-engraved spear, hurled by Caesar's own hands, had struck deep into Attila's back. It had pierced through his armor and sunk into his flesh. The echoes howling between the palace columns carried the weight of Caesar's fury. As the spear embedded in Attila's back still trembled, Caesar stormed forward. His face was shadowed, veins bulging, and his eyes burned with a frenzied flame. He slashed the air with his hand and roared:
"Did you dare ignore me, Attila?
His voice shook the chamber, reverberating off the stone walls like thunder. And he continued like a mad god unchained.