Armand quickly but quietly shook their other two companions awake. While Darryl looked disoriented, Flint immediately snapped awake and grabbed his sword. Soon enough, they could feel the presence of strangers approaching the room, their footsteps inaudible. Ordinary people without mastery over mana and sword aura would not be able to detect them.
While the three of them had not gotten many chances to fight together, they seamlessly took on positions. Armand silently cast a holy barrier over Darryl, who strategically retreated to the furthest corner from the door. Flint swiftly positioned himself near the door, hand on hilt, while Seraphine lazily unfolded her fan, not bothering to move from her sitting position on Armand's bedside.
The door very slowly creaked open.
The first ambusher did not even have the chance to step inside the room when Seraphine's wind arrow pierced his chest. Eyes wide in shock, his expression showed that he did not fully comprehend what was happening.
"What the...?"
Bright red blood spread across the chest, ran down his body, and pooled beneath him. He instinctively tried to press the wound with his hand to stop the bleeding, but it was in vain. Gasping for air, he dropped to his knees and crumpled to the ground.
The figure behind him froze for a second before immediately drawing his sword, alerting the others.
"They're awa - urgh!"
Before he finished speaking, Flint's swift attack towards his neck sent him to the other side. Immediately, the room descended into chaos as the ambushers charged into the room, with Armand and Flint casually parrying their assault.
Amongst the clashing of metal, Seraphine half-heartedly deflected any attack coming her way. She focused her attention towards the two people standing at the back, one of whom seemed to be a mage possessing an unusual but familiar mana. Unlike the muscular, gigantic swordsman beside her, the final figure holding a long staff was quite petite. At the end of her staff was an ash-grey stone.
Recognising her mana, Seraphine widened her eyes in surprise. "You... it can't be, Freya?"
The figure looked equally surprised. However, that surprise quickly turned into amusement tinged with wariness as she registered Seraphine's presence. Chuckling, she raised her hand as she gave an order.
"Everyone, stop."
With that single sentence from her, the rest of the attackers who were not dead or fatally injured immediately stopped their attack and retreated, forming a barrier around the petite figure. Armand and Flint also stepped back, their breath steady in comparison to the battered attackers.
Unexpectedly, the mage lifted her hood. Underneath the dark crimson robe, she revealed a pair of striking, dark eyes on a young woman's face with shoulder-length hair. A colourful butterfly pin adorned her blonde hair, looking almost out of place.
"Well, well, look who we have here. When I heard that some insects had made a mess of that cave, I thought the Archon finally managed to get his hands on semi-competent people... who'd have thought I'd meet you here." Her voice was strangely high-pitched and cheerful, almost childlike.
Flint glanced at Seraphine. "Acquaintance of yours?"
"...not quite. More like...dead adversary coming back to life..?"
The mage, Freya, laughed. "You're still so funny, Seraphine. How can a dead person come back to life? Do I look dead to you?"
"...you definitely looked pretty dead to me. As for your first question, that's what I want to know."
While Seraphine responded leisurely, she braced herself. If this person in front of her were really Freya, then the next attack would be of a different calibre. She also sensed that the swordsman beside her was not ordinary. They might not be able to avoid involving Darryl and the other inn's occupants. Perhaps sensing Seraphine's increased vigilance, Armand and Flint became more guarded.
Freya seemed to be studying the situation as well. Noticing Darryl in the corner, she smirked. The swordsman beside her seemed to understand what she wanted without any exchange. Seraphine inhaled sharply.
"Armand!"
Even without her saying it, Armand was already on the move, jumping between Darryl and the incoming swordsman.
"Ugh!" Armand grunted. For the first time in a long time, he felt pressure coming down from the swordsman's blow, that man's flaming, blood red sword aura matching his golden hue. Strengthening his core, he subtly stepped back while redirecting his sword, just enough to break the pressure. The swordsman surged forward, but, meeting less resistance than he expected, lost his balance slightly. Armand seized that almost imperceptible gap and struck upward.
Instead of the swordsman's neck, his sword met a mana shield, forcing him to fall back.
Freya's voice, directed at the swordsman, was cold. Her staff pointed at him, the grey stone glowing menacingly. "Igor, get a grip."
The swordsman did not reply. Instead, his sword aura grew brighter, the blood red flame overlapping with ominous grey shadow. Seeing this, Flint also stepped in front of Darryl, his own bright red aura enveloping his sword.
Freya sighed. "Not bad companions you have there, Sera. Igor...fall back for now." Obediently, the giant swordsman stepped back, although he never put down his aura-covered sword.
"Don't call me Sera, corpse."
Freya pouted. "That's so mean. It's been ages, don't you miss this big sister?"
Seraphine's expression was flat. "Even before you died, I never considered you a big sister...considering our age difference, maybe a grandma?"
Freya pursed her lips as her smile stiffened. "How rude. Don't you know that commenting on women's age is very offensive? Kids these days..." She tilted her head in thought.
"Hm...this has become a bit complicated. I was so annoyed to hear that our hard work in the cave had been undone that I thought I'd just kill all of you. But who knew that I'd meet you, the great traitor, in here."