He gripped his dual maces tightly, the leather creaking with every flex of his fingers.
They were closing in.
Frost giants. Angry. Bloodthirsty. Their kin lay motionless at the lone traveler’s feet, blue blood staining the now-blunted ends of his weapons.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath as they stepped closer. The summer air around him dropped in temperature, each breath now visible.
He had never seen frost giants before. These new lands held far too many surprises.
If, by some miracle, he survived this, frost giants were going straight to the top of his list of things to avoid.
His arms were growing heavy. The three he had already killed had taken far more out of him than he expected. Back home, in the land of dragons, survival was simple. Avoid dragons. They ate everything else.
“Rip him limb from limb,” one of the giants growled, its voice low and rumbling.
“Oh great… they’re intelligent,” the traveler muttered.
They closed in another step, weapons ready.
As a battle dancer, he needed space. Movement. Flow. And by the way they spread out, these giants knew it.
“Let’s do this then!” he shouted, charging the closest one.
A horn sounded.
Everything froze.
The traveler blinked, the frost giants hesitating just as he did. Then, like a storm breaking, a group of heavily armed warriors surged into the clearing.
The traveler braced himself for new enemies.
But they ran past him.
Steel met flesh. The frost giants fell one by one under coordinated strikes. All but one.
The last giant roared and charged the traveler, knocking aside anyone in its path.
The traveler steadied himself.
A blur of red cut in front of him.
The giant’s weapon slammed down… and bounced off a massive red shield.
A man stood there. Black and red armor. Sword in one hand. Shield in the other.
The frost giant staggered back, recognition flashing in its eyes.
“Red King,” it growled.
The giant attacked again. The blow crashed into the shield. A second strike came from the side, but the King caught it on his blade.
With both hands occupied, the Red King stepped forward and drove his forehead into the giant with brutal force. Both staggered back, dazed.
The giant recovered first and charged.
The King moved to block, but the impact knocked his weapon from his hand.
The giant raised its club high.
A killing blow.
Then… stillness.
Silence tore through the forest.
The giant froze mid-swing.
A short sword jutted from its gut.
The traveler blinked, piecing it together. The Red King had drawn a blade from behind his shield and hurled it with perfect precision.
Blue blood spilled across the forest floor.
The giant dropped to its knees.
With its final breath, it cursed the King… and his men… before collapsing to join its kin.
“Marcus! Report!” the Red King called.
“All accounted for, Your Majesty!” came the reply.
The traveler knelt beside the fallen giant, still catching up to what had just happened.
“Are you alright, stranger?” the Red King asked, offering a hand.
“I am. Thanks to you… and your comrades,” the traveler replied, cautious.
“You held your own,” the King said, glancing at the three giants already dead.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
“I am not.”
The Red King knelt, gripping the hilt of his sword and pulling it free from the giant.
“Well…” he said, rising to his feet,
“Welcome to Dagger Deep.”