The earth beneath Kaelor's mighty hooves shattered, great fissures cracking outward like lightning bolts across the crater floor. The ground imploded beneath the colossal force of his leap as the ancient king of minotaurs hurled himself skyward, twenty-five meters into the air, his massive frame blotting out the sky.
With a roar that shook the heavens, he came crashing down, intent on reducing Asher to a smear of blood and shattered bone.
Asher looked up calmly, his golden eyes gleaming beneath the cascade of his white hair. With a single step, fluid and precise, he sidestepped the monstrous impact.
Kaelor hit the ground like a meteor, the sheer force pulverizing rock and earth alike. The shockwave exploded outward, tearing up boulders, flattening the ground, and slamming into Asher with hurricane force. Yet all it drew from him was a narrowed gaze and a slight squint, his frame unmoved, unbroken.
Before the dust could even settle, Kaelor was upon him. Hardened claws, thick as spears and sharp as blades, slashed through the air, aiming to rip the defiant human apart.
But Asher's knees bent like coiled springs, he dropped low, his body flowing beneath the fatal arc of claws.
His eyes, bright gold and burning with focus, locked onto Kaelor's exposed chin. With a twist of his hips and a surge of power that rippled through his massive frame, Asher launched an uppercut, his fist colliding with the minotaur's jaw like a battering ram.
Kaelor's massive, four-meter-tall form lifted off the ground, tossed into the air by the force of the blow, before slamming down several meters away, carving a trench through the crater floor as he skidded to a halt.
Kaelor's face twisted in fury and pain, his nostrils flaring as he dragged himself upright. His posture lowered, his muscles bunched like drawn steel, and then, he charged.
Like a living avalanche, Kaelor surged forward, his claws flashing in a blur. Each strike he missed gouged great furrows in the earth, rending the ground in his fury. Every blow was destruction incarnate, yet Asher danced among the storm, his body shifting, weaving, deflecting with effortless precision.
Then, with the grace of a predator, Asher planted his left foot firm into the crater floor, the ground cracking beneath his heel. He pivoted, his fist rocketing forward in a blur.
His punch tore through Kaelor's frenzied assault, struck the king square in the chest, and sent the ancient minotaur hurtling across the crater. The great beast smashed into the stone near the mouth of the cavern, the rock shuddering and splitting beneath the force of his impact.
Dust and debris filled the air, the silence broken only by the sound of Kaelor's labored breath as he rose once more, eyes burning with newfound respect and fury for the human who stood against him.
"I respect your strength," Asher said, his deep voice carrying across the crater, steady despite the battle's fury. He glanced down at the white gashes carved across his skin, marks left by Kaelor's claws.
Slowly, the wounds sealed, the torn edges of his tunic fluttering in the breeze, revealing the hardened muscle beneath.
Each step he took brought him closer to the minotaur king. He walked through the sea of towering minotaurs, every one of them nearly as tall as he in his King State, their eyes burning with rage and defiance.
Some, like Kaelor's guards, loomed even larger, their muscles like boulders, their horns gleaming like polished steel.
A single command from their king, and over twenty thousand warriors would descend upon him like a tidal wave of death. Asher knew it. And despite his immense strength, he understood the truth: he could not stand alone against such a force without unleashing the full terror of his inner world.
With it, all would fall. That was the terrible power of an Awoken One. Not even the most feared of Exalted Ranked Knights, those champions of war, could hope to slay ten thousand in one battle and remain standing. Their stamina would break. Wounds would pile up. The body, no matter how mighty, had limits.
This was why numbers still mattered. Not even an Awoken One could stand alone against fifty thousand elite soldiers and walk away whole. But Asher did not want to reduce this army to corpses. He needed them alive.
With a burst of strength, he leapt, crossing the distance in a blink and landing before Kaelor, the ground trembling beneath his feet.
"Bend the knee, Kaelor," Asher's voice boomed, firm yet carrying a promise. "And I shall make you my great general. Together, we'll reignite the primal hunger for battle that your kind has long yearned for. I do not aim to be a mere king, I will be a king among kings."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
And then Kaelor snarled, his fury rekindled. With a guttural roar, he surged upward, trying to impale Asher on his remaining horn.
But Asher's hand shot out, seizing it mid-charge. The sheer force of Kaelor's lunge sent Asher skidding back several steps, his boots carving deep grooves in the earth.
"Kill him!" Kaelor bellowed, voice shaking the heavens.
But before his warriors could act, before a single foot moved, Asher raised his fist.
Boulders the size of houses manifested in the air above them, summoned by his will alone. They hovered, trembling with the power of the death blow he prepared.
The air thickened, charged with the weight of his mana. The merciful glint in his eyes hardened, his gaze turning lethal, golden irises blazing like twin suns ready to set the world aflame.
Kaelor froze. He felt it, the force gathered in that single clenched fist. If it fell, it would be his doom. A blow meant to end him.
And in that instant, as the line between life and death narrowed to a thread, Kaelor dropped to his knees. His massive frame shook as his head bowed.
"Lower your fist," he growled, breath ragged. "I surrender."
Asher exhaled slowly, lowering his hand as the boulders dissolved into nothingness. Around him, the minotaurs seethed with wrath. He could feel it, though their king had yielded, their hearts burned.
If he tried to command them by strength alone, their loyalty would be hollow. They would wait, and one day, they would betray him.
That was why he needed the ring.
Kaelor reached to his neck, unclasping a skull that had hung as a trophy of conquest. He offered it with heavy hands. In response, Asher drew forth a golden ring, ancient, radiant, etched with crimson runes that seemed to pulse with life.
Kaelor clenched his massive claw into his palm, letting blood drip onto the ring. The moment the dark red drops touched its surface, the runes ignited, flaring so bright they outshone the dawn.
A crimson crescent wave split the sky above them, vast and brilliant, its glow so immense it could be seen from every corner of Eden.
The bond was sealed, an army of twenty thousand had been gained.
[Would host like to upgrade these twenty six thousand savage Minotaurs into Golden Axe Corps, First Division; Wild Horns?]