Without a word, Khillea released her grip on Penthesilea, letting the Amazon queen crumple to the ground. Penthesilea gasped for breath, her body trembling from the aftershock of narrowly escaping death. But Khillea''s attention was no longer on her.

    It was on Paris.

    In a blur of motion, Khillea surged forward, her flaming sword leaving trails of light in its wake carving arcs of brilliance through the air as she advanced on her prey. Paris''s instincts screamed at him to flee, and he obeyed without hesitation, turning on his heel and sprinting away.

    "Stop her!" he barked over his shoulder, his voice tinged with desperation as he waved at the Trojans. The soldiers, loyal more to his title than the man himself, hesitated for only a fraction of a second before charging toward the oncoming storm.

    It was a futile effort.

    Khillea''s sword met the first soldier with an explosion of heat and light, cleaving through his shield as though it were made of parchment. The man barely had time to scream before he crumpled, his body consumed by the flames that danced along her blade. Another soldier lunged at her, his spear aimed for her heart, but she sidestepped effortlessly, bringing her sword down in a blazing arc that split him from shoulder to hip. The stench of burning flesh filled the air as Khillea continued her relentless advance.

    Paris ran, his lungs burning as he pushed his body to its limits. He could hear the screams of the Trojans men behind him, each one cut short by the ferocious warrior he had unleashed. Fear clawed at his chest, but he shoved it aside, focusing instead on survival.

    "Coward," Khillea snarled, her voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. "Is this you killed Patroclus? Running away and killing him from behind?"

    Paris gritted his teeth, her words stoking the embers of his pride. He hated her. Hated her for making him feel weak. Hated her for turning his carefully constructed image of divinity into a pathetic farce.@@@@

    "Stop her!" Paris spat again. "Delay her! Kill her if you can!"

    The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, but their loyalty bound them to obedience. They formed a line, shields raised, spears leveled, their resolve wavering only slightly as Khillea''s fiery silhouette appeared at the mouth of the alley.

    She didn''t hesitate.

    Khillea''s first swing shattered the nearest shield, the force of the impact sending its wielder crashing into the wall of Trojans waiting behind. Her second strike carved through two more soldiers in a single motion, their bodies reduced to ash before they hit the ground. The remaining men broke ranks, panic overtaking discipline as they scrambled to escape the inferno that was Khillea.

    Paris didn''t wait to see the outcome. He darted out. He needed an escape, a way to put distance between himself and the vengeful warrior.

    But eventually Paris reached a wall of greeks warriors, spartans glaring at him.

    "No... no, no, no..." he muttered, spinning around. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, a dark blade that seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy. He drew it, the weapon''s black magic swirling around him like a living thing. The place darkened, shadows stretching and writhing as though alive, responding to the blade''s malevolent aura.

    Khillea''s hand trembled, her knuckles white from the unrestrained grip on her sword. Anger radiated from her in waves as she lifted the blade high, her intent clear. This was no longer a duel but an execution—a reckoning.

    "No! Stop! No!! You can''t do this to me!" Paris wailed, his voice cracking as he raised his arms in a pitiful gesture of surrender. "I was chosen by the gods! THE GODS!!"

    But Khillea didn''t care. The weight of his pleas meant nothing to her. Her eyes, burning with a cold fury, remained fixed on him. Slowly, she lowered her sword, aiming for his heart. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

    Before the blow could land— BADOOOOM!

    A thunderous explosion rang out, and the clash of steel sent shockwaves through the air. The sheer force of it sent dust spiraling around them in a chaotic frenzy. Khillea''s blade had been stopped, deflected by another.

    Her gaze shot upward, locking onto the towering figure that had appeared before her.

    He stood there like a statue of war itself. Blond hair shimmered under the dim light, framing a face weathered by battle and responsibility. His muscular form, scarred yet regal, exuded an air of divine strength. Unlike the coward at her feet, this man''s presence was commanding, princely. His stern eyes held a glint of determination that seemed unshakable.

    Hector had arrived.

    "Brother! BROTHER! PLEASE SAVE ME!!" Paris''s wretched cries shifted instantly into elation, a desperate grin spreading across his face as he struggled to his feet. He clung to the faint hope that his older brother, the champion of Troy, would shield him from death.

    But Hector''s gaze wasn''t on Paris. It was fixed solely on Khillea.

    "Finally, we meet, Achilles... or should I call you by your true name?" Hector''s voice was deep, calm, yet edged with the weight of both expectation and regret.

    "Move," Khillea ordered coldly, her voice sharp as a blade. She had no interest in engaging him—not yet. Her target was Paris, and nothing would stand in her way.

    "I can''t." Hector''s tone was firm, unwavering.

    Her grip tightened on her weapon. "I will deal with you after I''ve killed Paris. Move." Her words came out even colder, laced with the promise of violence. She stepped forward, attempting to push past him, but Hector stood his ground, unyielding.

    "If you wish to take his life," Hector said evenly, his gaze hardening as he raised his sword, "you will have to go through me first."

    Khillea''s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding audibly. The fire in her chest burned hotter, her patience wearing thin. This was not a fight she wanted, not now. Yet, Hector''s calm defiance only stoked the flames of her wrath further.

    He regarded her with a tired, almost resigned smile. "Let us end this, Achilles."