As the battle fully erupted, soldiers crashed into soldiers, steel ringing against steel while blood soaked into the torn earth. Stronger warriors sought each other out, A ranks clashing with A ranks as flashes of mana and elemental forces lit the field. Nildrer Deepheart, fought alongside another A3, holding back three A4s at once through sheer brutality. Ryan and the others were forced to intercept the remaining high-ranked enemies, but even then the imbalance was clear.
Count Errenor's forces were stretched thin. They were fighting on two fronts, north and south, and no matter how well they positioned themselves, the enemy still had more A ranks to throw into the fray.
Ryan ducked behind a thick tree, breathing heavily as he tried to think. He and Edgarth had already burned through a good portion of their domains, and that wasn't the worst part. The enemy had learned from their previous encounters. Their movements were tighter, their formations prepared, and the usual tricks no longer worked as cleanly as before.
While his mind raced, a presence suddenly appeared at his side.
A dagger flashed toward his throat, but before it could reach him, thick branches burst from the ground and wrapped around the attacker's arm and chest. The man froze mid-strike.
To Ryan's surprise, the assassin smiled.
The figure dissolved into white fog, and another presence formed behind him. Ryan tried to turn, but a sharp chill locked his feet to the ground. The attacker lunged, moving with lethal precision.
Just as the dagger came within an inch of Ryan's neck, lightning tore through the air.
The bolt struck the attacker squarely in the back, electricity crawling over his body as smoke rose from his armor. Before he could even fall, Marco dropped from above and drove his sword straight through the man's back, pinning him to the ground.
At that time, the other A2 attacker raised both hands, and a storm of freezing wind surged toward them, swallowing the battlefield in white mist. The attack never reached them. A roaring tornado descended from the sky, tearing the storm apart and scattering the cold air in all directions.
Briva landed beside Ryan, wings folding as she sent a small arc of lightning into the ground. The ice binding his feet shattered instantly.
"Thank you," Ryan said, steadying himself.
Briva glanced at him, a faint smile on her lips. "If I remember correctly, you use real illusions to control nature, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Let me show you how a real druid controls it."
The battlefield responded to her presence.
Roots and branches surged beneath the soil, bursting upward to bind enemies. Wind twisted into violent spirals, lifting soldiers from their feet, while lightning fell from the sky in blinding arcs. Briva stood at the center of it all, calm and focused, as if the storm itself obeyed her will.
Across from her, the A2 elementalist gritted her teeth and began preparing counterattacks, mana flaring as she braced herself against the force of nature that stood against her.
…
Only a few minutes had passed since the clash intensified when Briva heard a thunderous sound tear through the air. Something struck the golden roof Arthur had formed above the battlefield, and the light-born platform cracked apart, shattering into countless fragments that dissolved before they reached the ground.
The enemy leader slammed into the earth moments later.
The impact was brutal. Dust and debris exploded outward, the shockwave throwing soldiers aside as the ground buckled under the force. For a brief moment, the battlefield disappeared beneath the cloud of dirt and broken stone.
When the dust finally settled, the figure of the man emerged. He was on one knee, sweat running down his face as he struggled to breathe. His spear was gone, his domain shattered. He lifted his head, his gaze drifting upward to the sky where Arthur still hovered, with four golden wings spread behind him.
His jaw tightened.
"Retreat," he shouted, his voice hoarse but carrying across the field.
The order spread instantly. Enemy soldiers broke formation and fled toward the forest behind them, disappearing between the trees in chaotic waves. Within minutes, the battlefield was silent again, save for the wounded and the crackle of fading magic.
Nildrer Deepheart did not give the order to pursue. His army had been falling back for days before this battle, and exhaustion weighed heavily on them. They needed rest more than victory. At his signal, the soldiers regrouped and began moving back toward their camp in slow, weary lines while carrying the injured.
Nildrer remained behind, standing with Briva, Marco, Ryan, Edgarth, and two other A3s as they watched the retreating enemy vanish.
Arthur descended from the sky at an unhurried pace. As his feet touched the ground, his wings and golden aura faded away. He had not chased the enemy, knowing that drawing out his final sword would release mana too dangerous for the allied soldiers below.
Briva rushed toward him, a bright smile cutting through the exhaustion on her face.
Nildrer stepped forward and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you. Your timely appearance saved many lives today."
Arthur inclined his head in return. His expression remained calm, but there was a firmness in his eyes. "You need to retreat further north,"
Isabelle Tatsu, one of the A3s, stared at Arthur in disbelief. "Why?" she asked, unable to hide her shock. "With you at our side, we can finally defeat them."
Arthur's gaze remained steady. "I'm going to follow them and destroy them," he replied. "For that, I'll need to use my full power, and I can't guarantee your safety if you stay."
Isabelle opened her mouth again. "But…"
Before she could finish, a surge of mana rolled out from Arthur's body. The pressure hit like a sudden weight on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs and making her stagger back a step.
"That's an order," Arthur said, his voice calm, but absolute.
Isabelle froze, anger and frustration flashing across her face, yet she said nothing more.
Nildrer, on the other hand, remained composed. He nodded once, his tone firm. "We will do as you say."
Arthur turned to Briva. "You go with them. I need someone to keep an eye on Marco."
Briva gave a short nod. "Okay."
As the group began to move away, Arthur turned in the opposite direction, toward the forest where the enemy forces had retreated. Four golden wings unfolded from his back, and he rose into the sky, quickly becoming a distant figure of light.
Within minutes, he caught sight of the fleeing army, still withdrawing in scattered formations. This was only one battlefield, and time was already slipping away. He needed to act, but not yet.
Arthur climbed higher, far above the clouds, until even the keenest senses below would be unable to detect him. There, alone in the open sky, he drew back his wings and aura and waited.
An hour passed.
Then the air around him began to vibrate, faint at first, like the hum of a distant bell. Golden light gathered in his hand, slowly shaping itself into a sword. As the weapon formed, power poured into it, dense and overwhelming, and Arthur felt his presence shift once more.
Six wings unfolded from his back, completing the radiant set as the sword solidified in his grasp, its light cutting cleanly through the sky.
…
Nildrer ordered the army to retreat again. The soldiers were tired, but none of them complained. They turned north and continued marching, their pace slow and heavy.
About an hour later, the ground began to shake.
At first it was faint, but it quickly grew stronger. A powerful wind swept in from the south, thick and heavy with mana. Everyone felt it, even those without strong sensing abilities.
The soldiers looked back almost at the same time. Fear spread through the ranks, and their steps naturally became faster, as if instinct alone was pushing them away from that presence.
Nildrer narrowed his eyes as he stared south.
"It has begun," he said quietly. "An S-rank fighting at full power."
…
Selina sat alone at a bar, one elbow resting on the scarred wood as she drank the most expensive liquor the place carried. The glass cost more than most sailors earned in a month, yet the drink still disappointed her. Too sharp. Too thin. Nothing here ever lived up to its price.
The past few months had dragged by without challenge or purpose. No hunts. No battles. No reason to leave port. Boredom clung to her heavier than armor.
Boots scraped against the floor behind her. Several men stopped close enough that she could smell salt, sweat, and cheap rum. Their shadows stretched across the bar.
A large man stepped forward. He had thick arms, a wide chest, and a grin that looked practiced rather than friendly.
"Are you Selina Red Rose?" he asked.
She didn't turn. She raised the glass and took another slow drink. "What if I am?"
He laughed under his breath. "Word is you've gone soft. Too much sitting around, doing nothing. Thought it might be time for you to step aside."
Selina turned her chair in one smooth motion and leaned back against the bar, her eyes finally meeting his.
"And I suppose you're here to take my place," she said.
The man puffed out his chest. "Gordon Callahan. A3 warrior." He said the title like it should impress her. "I'll be the next King of the Sea. I'm doing you a favor, grandma. Time to retire."
Her mouth tightened, the corners pulling downward, but before she could answer, a sharp voice cut through the room behind the pirates.
"Hey. You're in my way."
One of the pirates turned toward the sound. A younger figure stood there, calm and unmoving.
"What do you want, kid?" the pirate snapped. "This isn't—"
The word died in his throat.
Something slammed into his stomach with a dull thud. He collapsed instantly, clutching his chest as he hit the floor, gasping and choking for air.
The rest of the pirates spun around and drew weapons, spreading out into rough fighting stances.
Gordon turned as well. His grin vanished when he saw his man on the ground. Rage flashed across his face.
"What did you do?" he shouted. "Kill him!"
None of them moved.
Every pirate stood frozen in place, eyes wide, muscles locked.
Gordon's anger shifted into confusion. He scanned their stiff forms, then the room around them.
"What is this?" he demanded. "Mind control?"
The pirates strained against their bodies, but none of them could move. Muscles trembled. Jaws clenched. Their feet stayed locked to the floor as if nailed in place.
From the shadow cast by one of them, a woman stepped out.
"It's called shadow lock," she said.
The man beside her walked straight toward Gordon.
Gordon bared his teeth and swung. The punch carried enough force to shatter stone walls, but the man caught it with one hand. With the other, he seized Gordon by the neck and lifted him off the ground.
Gordon clawed at the grip, striking with his free hand. Every blow landed. None of them mattered.
Still, he didn't panic. He was an A3.
Red energy flared around his body, violent and unstable, pressing outward as he gathered power. Just as he reached the point of Blood Rage, his body stiffened. His thoughts stalled. A dull numbness spread through his head.
"Mind control…" he muttered.
The man released him.
Gordon hit the floor hard and dropped to his knees. His eyes went empty, unfocused.
"You've grown stronger," Selina said.
Before Leo could respond, Gordon lurched upright. Dark energy poured out of him like a storm tearing free from a cage.
Leo moved to react, but Selina's voice cut him off.
"Allow me."
Thorn-covered branches erupted from the floor and coiled around Gordon and his crew. The vines tightened, piercing flesh as the thorns sank in deep. Their bodies shriveled slowly, skin tightening and cracking until they resembled dried corpses. Above them, roses bloomed, thick petals the color of fresh blood.
Selina turned to Leo and Elna. "You were looking for me?"
Leo glanced at the lifeless body on the floor, then back at her. "We need your help."
A slow smile spread across her face. "Tell me."