From a distance, Deidara watched from among the trees, a barely perceptible gesture of satisfaction flickering in her eyes. She knew the separation had worked exactly as planned. The soldiers, focused on the evacuation, suspected nothing of the danger lurking in the shadows.
The crack of breaking branches and a warm gust of wind swept through the forest—the signal.
Deidara whispered to the members of the cult.
"Now."
Figures wrapped in shadow emerged from the trees, moving with silent precision toward Elizabeth's column. There were no roars, no alarms—only a chill that crept along the soldiers' spines.
Elizabeth sensed the danger too late.
A flash of dark mana illuminated the edge of the road, and before Lusian could react, the attackers closed the circle. Deidara appeared among them, her daggers gleaming as if they absorbed the very light around them.
"Elizabeth!" Emily shouted, rushing forward—but the coordination of the attack overwhelmed her.
Lusian felt the crushing weight of distance. Umber and Thunder surged forward, but the terrain and the density of the ambush made it impossible to reach her in time without endangering the soldiers.
His heart tightened.
He knew the princess was the target, and every second mattered.
The cult unleashed a demonic containment seal around Elizabeth. The magic was subtle and complex; it did not strike her down immediately, but it immobilized her, isolating her from any attempt at rescue. One of the cultists stepped forward in silence and guided the princess toward a concealed carriage.
"No…" Lusian whispered, a surge of fury igniting within him.
Umber lunged forward, and Thunder released its charge, but the ambush had never been meant to stop him—only to delay him.
The princess vanished into the fog and trees, taken by forces that even Lusian's precision could not immediately break.
The main column of soldiers stood frozen in confusion. The heroes tried to regroup, but every attempt collided with invisible barriers, shadows that seemed to anticipate their movements. The cult's strategic withdrawal was flawless: not a single soldier critically wounded.
But the princess was gone.
Lusian reached the edge of the clearing, breathing hard, his eyes locked on the place where Elizabeth had been taken.
In that moment, he understood.
He had failed.
For the first time since their journey had begun, a strange feeling pierced through him. It was not fear of the enemy—but the silent terror of what he might lose if he arrived too late.
"Damn them… they have no idea what they've just provoked," he whispered.
And for the first time, he did not speak as a strategist—
but as someone standing on the edge of breaking.
The Sacrifice
Far away, the City of Peace was beginning to glow beneath the first light of dawn.
Deidara and the cult had teleported Elizabeth there, where the demonic ritual awaited.
Lusian felt a knot tighten in his stomach, but he forced himself to breathe slowly. The map of the game was etched deep in his memory. Somewhere nearby lay the closest cult stronghold.
A plan began to form in his mind.
Calculated.Precise.Relentless.
The sun continued to rise, but the morning light brought no comfort.
The real game was about to begin.
Standing beside Kara, Deidara smiled for the first time—truly satisfied.
The first move had been made.
And the fate of Elizabeth…
and everyone else…
was beginning to change.