"Do you dare ignore the one who sits on this throne? The man who brought empires to their knees? The Caesar who made continents tremble?! Did you think you stood before some commoner, huh?! First you try to save that jester, then you don't even turn your head until a spear is buried in your back!"
His voice sliced through the air like a blade.
"In your eyes, I may not exist but in mine, your entire existence is nothing! Just like your father's letter, only a threat on paper!"
Caesar kept closing the distance. He cracked his knuckles. And when their eyes finally met, he hissed with a hatred sharper than any word:
"Now rise... so the whole world may witness who is truly ignored—who truly owns the throne."
Attila said nothing. In reply, he simply drew a dagger from his belt. He pulled his arm back, took aim like a calm assassin, and hurled the blade.
Caesar dodged with lightning speed, darting to the side. The dagger buried itself deep into the wooden throne but the move bought Attila a few precious seconds. For a warrior, that was an eternity.
He reached for the staff lodged in his back and yanked it out in one motion. His eyes found Ebren's bleeding body on the ground. Attila bent down, pulled him under his arm. Ebren's head hung wearily, but he was still alive.
As Attila turned toward the great palace doors, two guards blocked his path. They had appeared as if breaking away from the chaos of war, weapons in hand, determined to stop his advance.
But Attila didn't slow.
He hurled the staff like a spear. The steel tip pierced the first guard's skull with a crack that echoed off the marble walls. The lifeless body dropped instantly.
The second guard, startled, tried to step back but Attila drew another dagger. With a flick of the wrist, the blade shot forward, striking the guard dead between the eyes. He too collapsed without a sound.
Attila kept running, blood staining the floor behind him. He neared the giant doors. Then, planting his feet firmly, he kicked with all his strength.
The door blasted open like it had been struck by a battering ram. Hinges snapped, the frame cracked. Two sentries behind the door were crushed between the wall and the flying wood.
Carrying Ebren under his arm, Attila stepped into the corridor. Behind him, the walls of the palace rang with Caesar's fury.
Standing tall before his throne, Caesar's eyes were locked onto the fleeing Attila. His chest heaved and then, like a raging beast, he roared.
"Don't run, Attila! Fight like a wolf, not like a stray dog! You're a coward! Turn around and face me!"
His voice sank deep into the marrow of the corridor. Behind him, Aurelius — who had collapsed to the ground but was slowly regaining consciousness — tried to sit up. He wiped the blood from his lips and blinked to clear his vision. "Caesar…" he muttered, trying to comprehend what had just happened. But Caesar had already made his decision. Like lightning, he turned to Aurelius and grabbed him by the collar. His muscular arms shook Aurelius's body as his eyes blazed like those of a mad war god.
"You've rested long enough! Go and catch him!"
And in that moment, Caesar hurled Aurelius toward the direction Attila had fled with incredible force. Aurelius found himself flying through the air. His body soared uncontrollably, eyes widening in astonishment. The stone walls of the palace zipped past him. His hair whipped wildly in the wind. "Shit…!" he shouted, still unable to fully process what was happening.
Aurelius crashed near the doorway. As he slowly lifted his head, he noticed Caesar's silver-inlaid spear embedded on the wall just a few steps away. His eyes narrowed, and a guttural growl escaped his lips. Clenching his teeth, he reached for the spear and yanked it from the wall in one swift motion.
At that moment, Attila was already sprinting at the far end of the corridor, carrying Ebren on his back. Aurelius didn't hesitate — he hurled the spear with all his strength. Attila, glancing back over his shoulder, saw the incoming spear. It was a race against time. He ducked swiftly, and the spear flew past, slamming into the iron door ahead, sparking as it scraped against the door.
Without slowing, Attila kept running. When he reached the outer door, he kicked it open with force. The thunderous sound echoed through the palace courtyard.
Attila had made it outside.
He kept running, putting every last ounce of strength into crossing the garden. Beyond the courtyard, his loyal soldiers were waiting anxiously. If everything had gone according to plan, this would have been a simple diplomatic mission… but now, even the sky seemed tense.
The garden was filled with Caesar's soldiers. Dozens of armored guards stood in silence, watching the running figure of Attila. No one understood what was happening. An envoy, bursting through shattered doors, carrying a wounded man on his back… It was surreal.
At that very moment, amidst the shattered remains of the broken gate, Aurelius appeared. His clothes were covered in dust, and his eyes blazed with fury.
"Catch them!!"
The order cracked like lightning. Instantly, dozens of soldiers sprang into action, charging madly after Attila — but it was already too late. He had nearly reached the exit.
At the far end of the courtyard stood four guards, but Attila didn't slow down. With one final push, he leapt with all his strength, soaring like an eagle over the four men and landing solidly on the stone path.
At that moment, his waiting allies came to help. They carefully took the wounded Ebren from Attila's back and mounted their horses. Attila swung himself onto his own steed. No command, no scream could stop them now. The sound of hooves thundered into the darkness, leaving the courtyard, and the chaos behind.
All that remained was Caesar's rising fury, the broken gate, and a hunt left in bitter failure.