Draven didn't retreat.
He didn't evade every attack.
He simply moved.
A slight tilt of his head.
A single step.
A shift of his shoulder.
Mana bolts screamed past him one after another, detonating against steel platforms and armored barricades behind him.
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
Sparks and shattered metal rained across the military dock.
Then—
one of the larger beams arrived.
A concentrated military-grade mana blast fired from an elevated rifle platform.
The attack crossed the distance almost instantly.
Draven raised one arm.
CRAAACK!!
The beam struck his black-gloved palm directly.
The platform beneath his feet groaned.
Steel buckled slightly.
A shockwave rippled outward.
Yet—
Draven didn't move an inch.
The mana shattered against his arm like glass striking a mountain.
Fragments of blue light scattered through the air.
For a brief moment—
small streams of mana flowed across the surface of the black glove.
Then disappeared.
Absorbed.
Several soldiers saw it happen.
Their expressions changed immediately.
"...What?"
One rifleman stared in disbelief.
"...It didn't penetrate?"
A combat mage's eyes widened.
"That's military-grade compressed mana!"
Draven lowered his arm slowly.
Not a scratch.
Not even a mark remained on the black glove.
Beneath the hood—
the crimson glow deepened slightly.
The absorbed mana vanished into the endless folding spiral hidden within his body.
Then—
he finally moved.
One step forward.
BOOM.
The steel beneath his foot cracked.
A second step.
BOOM.
The distance between him and the imperial formation vanished rapidly.
Panic flashed across several soldiers' faces.
"STOP HIM!"
"FORMATION THREE!"
"INTERCEPT!"
Dozens of mana circles ignited simultaneously.
Defensive barriers rose across the platform.
Layer upon layer of reinforced shields stacked together.
Combat mages poured mana into them desperately.
The lead mage shouted—
"HOLD THE LINE!"
Dozens of defensive barriers layered themselves across the platform.
Mana surged violently through the formation.
Then—
a massive crimson-orange magic circle unfolded behind the lead mage.
Flames erupted.
Roaring.
Expanding.
The spell grew larger and larger until it resembled a miniature sun suspended above the battlefield.
"INCINERATE HIM!"
The fireball launched.
BOOOOOOM!!
A sea of flames swallowed the area where Draven had been standing.
Heat exploded outward across the military platform.
Steel glowed red.
Nearby soldiers shielded their faces instinctively.
The impact shook the entire dock.
For a brief moment—
the imperial soldiers felt relief.
Then—
the flames cleared.
And Draven wasn't there.
Silence.
The lead mage's eyes widened.
"...What?"
Then—
THUNK.
A strange sound echoed from above.
Several soldiers looked upward instinctively.
An officer stationed atop one of the elevated rifle-cannon platforms froze.
A blue mana arrow protruded cleanly through his chest.
For a second—
he simply stared downward.
Confused.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Then his body collapsed from the platform.
CRASH.
The corpse struck the steel deck below.
Heads snapped upward.
And finally—
they saw him.
Draven stood atop the elevated cannon platform.
Motionless.
The corpse of the artillery officer hung limply from one hand before he casually released it.
The body tumbled over the edge.
Far more shocking—
was what rested in Draven's other hand.
A simple wooden bow.
Plain.
Old.
Almost ordinary.
Yet blue mana flowed across its surface like living rivers.
The soldiers stared.
Confused.
Terrified.
Nobody had even seen him move.
One moment he had been surrounded below.
The next—
he stood hundreds of meters away atop the artillery platform.
Then—
Draven drew the string.
Mana gathered instantly.
Blue light condensed between the bow's limbs.
A single arrow formed.
Not summoned from a quiver.
Created directly from mana itself.
The surrounding air distorted.
The pressure alone caused nearby soldiers atop neighboring platforms to instinctively step backward.
One officer shouted—
"TAKE COVER!"
Too late.
TWANG.
The arrow vanished.
Not flew.
Vanished.
A fraction of a second later—
BOOOOOM!!
An entire rifle-cannon platform exploded apart.
Steel support beams shattered.
Soldiers were launched screaming into open air.
Chunks of reinforced metal rained across the military district.
The shockwave rattled nearby warships.
Silence followed.
Then panic.
"SNIPER!"
"HE'S ON THE EAST PLATFORM!"
"KILL HIM!"
Dozens of rifle cannons immediately rotated toward Draven's position.
Searchlights converged.
Mana signatures locked on.
The entire district focused on him.
Draven calmly drew the bow again.
Another blue arrow formed.
His crimson eyes glowed beneath the hood.
Cold.
Focused.
The rage inside him had transformed into something far more dangerous.
Clarity.
TWANG.
A second arrow disappeared.
BOOOOOOM!!
Another artillery platform ceased to exist.
The explosion lit the night sky.
Far away—
Syrian watched with disbelief.
"...A bow?"
One of the Crossfall members muttered,
"That thing's no ordinary bow."
Another explosion illuminated the skyline.
A third platform collapsed.
The masked woman stared silently.
Then quietly said—
"No."
Her gaze remained fixed on the distant figure standing alone amidst warships and explosions.
"...That's an artifact."
Meanwhile—
below—
Aldric burst through another formation of soldiers like a natural disaster.
His Dawn Sword carved an arc through the battlefield.
CRAAAAASH!!
Barriers shattered.
Soldiers flew.
A combat mage vanished through a wall.
Aldric glanced upward, a grin spreading across his face.
An armored figure descended from above like a falling meteor.
Heavy plate armor.
Silver-blue mana roared across every engraved rune.
A massive greatsword carved downward through the air with enough force to split an entire platform apart.
The pressure alone crushed nearby steel railings.
Below—
Aldric looked up.
And grinned.
"Oh."
A burst of red light ignited across the runes carved into Dawn.
The sword immediately began glowing brighter and brighter.
Symbols spread across the blade.
One after another.
Like burning cracks opening through molten metal.
Flames erupted.
Not ordinary fire.
Red-gold flames.
Violent.
Hungry.
The surrounding air distorted from the heat.
Then—
Aldric swung.
BOOOOOOOOM!!!
The two blades collided.
The impact detonated across the military district.
A shockwave exploded outward like a hurricane.
Nearby soldiers were thrown from their feet instantly.
Steel flooring shattered.
Support beams cracked.
Several mana barriers collapsed from the pressure alone.
For a brief second—
both fighters remained locked together.
The armored warrior's boots dug trenches into the platform beneath him.
Aldric's coat whipped violently behind him.
Flames and silver mana collided between the crossed weapons.
Then—
the platform beneath them finally gave way.
CRAAAAAAASH!!
Thousands of tons of reinforced steel exploded downward.
Both figures vanished through the collapsing structure.
The surrounding soldiers barely had time to react.
A second later—
another explosion erupted below.
Then another.
And another.
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
Entire sections of the military dock shook violently.
Somewhere beneath the collapsing levels—
the sound of swords clashing continued.
Every collision sent shockwaves tearing through nearby structures.
High above—
Draven calmly stood atop the artillery platform.
His bow remained drawn.
Blue mana gathered endlessly around it.
Yet—
his crimson eyes shifted briefly toward the collapsing battlefield below.
Watching.
Evaluating.
The armored warrior wasn't ordinary.
Not at all.
A Fourth-Star.
Maybe a Fifth-Star.
An imperial elite.
Someone specifically assigned to guard the Holy Empire delegation.
Far below—
Aldric burst upward through collapsing steel.
CRASH!!
Chunks of metal scattered through the air.
The armored warrior followed immediately behind him.
Greatsword descending once again.
Silver mana exploded around the blade.
"DIE!"
Aldric laughed.
Actually laughed.
"THERE you are!"
Dawn blazed brighter.
The runes along its surface ignited completely.
Flames erupted outward in a massive arc.
SHIIIIIIIING!!
The two weapons met again.
A ring of fire and silver mana exploded across the sky.
Nearby soldiers watched with pale faces.
Neither side looked human anymore.
Each collision felt like two monsters smashing mountains together.
Meanwhile—
the imperial command towers had descended into complete chaos.
"Eastern artillery platform destroyed!"
"Three cannon positions lost!"
"Sniper still active!"
"Contain that archer!"
Officers shouted desperately.
Mages scrambled between formations.
Rifle cannons rotated continuously through the smoke.
Yet nobody could get a clear lock.
Because every time they thought they had Draven—
he was somewhere else.
TWANG.
A blue arrow vanished.
BOOOOOOOOM!!
Another observation tower disappeared.
Fire and debris rained across the district.
Panic spread further.
Far away—
Syrian watched the battlefield unfold with widening eyes.
The military district—
one of the most heavily defended locations in Blackwater—
was being torn apart by two people.
Just two.
Beside her—
even the Crossfall members had fallen silent.
The masked woman stared toward the warships.
Then quietly muttered,
"...No wonder they sent the ship away."
One of the hidden figures swallowed.
"...You think they planned this?"
The masked woman watched another artillery platform explode in the distance.
Then—
she laughed softly beneath her mask.
"Planned?"
A brief pause.
"No."
Her gaze settled on Draven's distant silhouette.
"I think they came here expecting something much worse."
Above the battlefield—
warships appeared in the sky.
Searchlights swept desperately through smoke and fire as they maneuvered into attack positions.
And standing atop the burning artillery platform—
Draven slowly drew another arrow.
The crimson glow beneath his hood deepened.
His gaze remained fixed on the largest warship in the sky.
The one bearing the Holy Empire's crest.
For the first time since arriving—
his target was finally in sight.
And somewhere aboard that vessel—
were the people he had come to find.