The captains pressed the advantage.
Blades surged.
Draven moved fast—but not fast enough.
They were faster. Sharper. Relentless.
A sword sliced into his shoulder.
Another nicked his side.
A third opened a deep line across his thigh.
He bled.
But every time, his wounds sealed—regenerating in seconds, skin stitching together as fast as it tore.
Still—they weren't letting up.
A knight lunged in—a Nightway, Mana swirling at its blade. Draven barely turned, just enough to let the strike graze his ribs.
He countered instantly.
His dagger snapped out—one clean thrust through the knight's armor.
Not a kill, but close.
He didn't slow.
The second captain, twin blades flashing, darted in again. Draven caught one of them mid-strike—locked it—and drove his dagger for the visor.
A kill shot.
But—
CLANG—
The second blade deflected it just in time.
The captain was stronger than expected.
Draven reacted—fast.
He dropped low, spun with force—a sweeping kick.
The captain crossed both blades to block—
But the impact still sent him flying, armor ringing from the hit.
He flipped midair—landing in a crouch, graceful and ready.
Draven turned—
And the first captain was already there.
They clashed—steel on steel, a brutal flurry of swings.
A beat of pure aggression.
Speed vs force. Precision vs technique.
Then—the second captain was back.
He came in fast—blades swinging in a diagonal X.
Draven dodged—but not clean.
Steel bit into his side.
He hissed, jumping back. Blood ran down his already tattered shirt—but again, it quickly began to heal.
Before he could recover—
The first captain surged forward, mana flaring around him.
Too fast.
Draven raised his dagger, placed his palm behind it for support—
SLAM—
The impact was explosive.
Sparks flew as steel met steel.
Draven was launched—body hurled backward, over the ring of knights and into the forest.
Branches shattered as he flew.
Leaves and bark exploded around him as he tumbled through trees.
Then—
His eyes flicked toward a thick trunk.
Focus.
He threw a hand out—caught the bark—
His fingers dug in, stopping his flight with a sharp twist.
Momentum twisted through his spine.
He let his legs swing around—planted both feet on the tree's side.
And then—
BOOM.
He launched forward again, sprinting tree to tree, faster than most eyes could follow.
A blur in the woods.
Gone.
---
Down below, the knights didn't move.
Silence.
The forest was still.
No movement. No pursuit.
The knights stood in a loose ring, blades still raised, breath caught in their throats.
Then one stepped forward, whispering like it hurt to say:
> "He wasn't trying to win."
Another swallowed hard.
> "was he trying to escape... the whole time."
No one spoke after that.
Just the wind.
And the blood cooling on the forest floor
The captain exhaled slowly, lowering his sword.
> "He used our own attack to launch himself."
His voice was quiet. Measured.
Not disbelief—just observation.
> "Timed the angle. Took the hit. Redirected it. Used the force to break our perimeter… and escape."
He looked toward the forest canopy—where Draven had vanished like smoke between trees.
A pause.
> "He never meant to win this fight."
One of the knights spoke up—quietly, like it was hard to admit:
> "He could've kept going. He was healing faster than we could damage him…"
The captain didn't turn.
> "Exactly if he had.
A beat of silence.
Then he added, cold and flat.
Now, they were listening.
> "If he stayed and committed — we'd be burying bodies. He didn't because he chose not to. Not because we had him beat. He left… because he has something more important than us."
He looked down at the blood on the dirt. The marks where Draven had stood.
> "This was never a fight. It was a delay."
---
Draven – Sprinting Through the Forest
Branches blurred.
Leaves whipped past.
Blood soaked his side where the blade had torn him open — already just completed healing.
Draven didn't stop.
His boots struck branches and bark in rapid rhythm — each step a blur of speed and direction.
The Spirit Egg was still tucked tight, sealed inside his pocket
> "I don't have the time," he muttered, breath sharp between teeth.
His thoughts raced.
> " Were too many of them if I'd actually tried to kill every last one of them, that fight… would've taken too fucking long.
He leapt between two trees, flipped once midair,
His eyes moved scanning through the forest behind him as he landed gently and kept going.
> " Doesn't seem like they followed, The move was too sudden guess they didn't expect it caught them off guard. Might take 'em a minute to even process."
> " Is this how Mana works though the wounds are all healed. But I can still feel it, The places I was cut i feel a sting No it's some kind of burning hotness".
That isn't it more as if they put Pepper on they're Blades."
> " yeah something like that ".
His ribs ached where mana-enhanced steel had smashed into him. Even with regeneration, it was a bruising kind of pain.
He welcomed it.
It kept him focused.
Ahead, the trees began to thin—light shifting, terrain changing.
Draven's eyes narrowed.
> "Gotta get back. Fast."
He didn't know how long the Black Wind would stay behind.
But he knew this—
They weren't done hunting.
Not yet.
But he'd be damned if they caught him today.