Another Knight swung a massive sword overhead. Miles rolled under it, the edge grazing his shoulder and tearing a deep gash. Blood ran down, soaking his sleeve, but he forced himself up. He was outnumbered. One Knight thrust with a spear, the tip grazing his chest, drawing blood. Another swung a hammer; the force sent him skidding across shattered stone tiles, shards cutting into his arms and legs. Another Knight slammed its broadsword down from above. Miles leapt into the air, spinning, striking another Knight in the chest with a brutal arc of his dagger. The collision of steel reverberated through his arms, sending pain up to his shoulders. Debris erupted again as armor and stone met in violent sparks. Suddenly, a blade pierced his abdomen.Miles screamed.Blood flooded his mouth as the Death Knight wrenched the sword free, blackened ichor spilling freely as Miles collapsed to one knee, vision blurring violently.Another Death Knight brought its mace down on his chest.The impact

Miles stood alone amid the ruin, chest rising slowly, power radiating from him in palpable waves. He flexed his fingers as fresh strength flowed into his body, his presence no longer merely human.The lich drifted backward.For the first time in centuries, fear seeped into his voice.“You… you grow stronger with every kill,” he whispered. “That ability—no mortal should possess it.”Miles lifted his gaze and his eyes met that the lichAs their gazes met the lich understood that the boy before him was no longer prey but was a catastrophe in the making.The suffocating aura of undeath that had filled the chamber moments ago now hung thin and uncertain, like smoke after a wildfire.At the far end of the vast throne hall, suspended above a cracked obsidian dais, the Lich King watched.He did not move.He did not blinkBut he was fazed.The faint emerald flames burning within his hollow eye sockets flickered—just slightly—as he surveyed the battlefield. His Death Knights. His elite vanguard