The series of attacks kept going, steel clashing against blood in a storm of sparks and fury.
Arthur and Eamon struck together, their movements frantic yet precise, each step perfectly timed with the other. For the first time, Winston's grin faltered. They were actually pushing him back.
Arthur darted low, his daggers flashing. Winston swung his blood-forged sword in a wide arc, the crimson blade whistling through the air with lethal intent. But Arthur bent down at the last instant, sliding along the dirt to avoid the strike, his dagger lifting to block just enough to deflect the blow.
Eamon saw the opening. He roared and hurled his Vixterium sword straight at Winston's chest.
The crimson-eyed monster caught it with one hand, laughing. "You fool, you threw away your only weapon—"
But before he could finish, Eamon rushed forward like a thunderbolt. His boots tore the dirt as he sprinted and slammed his foot into Winston's abdomen with crushing force.
The impact sent Winston stumbling back, his grip on the blade faltering. He crashed into the ground, rolling across the earth as his head struck a rock. A crack split the back of his skull, blood spilling into his black hair.
Arthur gasped, eyes wide. "Eamon! That worked!"
Eamon's sword clattered against the ground, sliding away from Winston's reach. Without hesitation, Eamon snatched it up, spinning to face their enemy once more. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his brow, but his eyes burned with determination.
Winston groaned, pressing a hand to the wound at the back of his head. The blood sizzled and hissed as it began to mend itself before their eyes. His skull cracked back into place, flesh stitching together in an instant.
Eamon gritted his teeth. "Damn it… he heals too quickly."
Winston slowly rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his clothes. His crimson eyes narrowed, rage flickering behind the arrogant smirk. "That actually hurt. You'll pay for making me bleed."
Arthur and Eamon stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons drawn, their chests rising and falling in unison. They knew then—together, they had a chance.
But Winston wasn't finished.
His lips twisted into a cruel grin as he extended his arm. His voice dripped with dark power. "Noctis Arrow Storm!"
The air trembled as countless red magic circles ignited around him, glowing with sinister light. From each circle, arrows made of coagulated blood materialized, their tips razor-sharp. The air grew thick with killing intent.
"Dodge!" Arthur cried.
The arrows shot forward in a storm of death.
Eamon swung his sword, deflecting the incoming barrage with desperate speed. Sparks of crimson light scattered as blade met arrow. Arthur twirled his daggers in both hands, slashing and parrying as best as he could.
But there were too many.
Arrows whistled through the air, embedding into the ground around them, slicing through trees, tearing leaves into ribbons. Arthur hissed in pain as one grazed his arm, leaving a crimson line of blood. Another cut across his thigh, forcing him to stagger.
Eamon grunted as two arrows scraped across his side, slicing through his clothes. Pain burned his ribs, but he kept moving, swinging, blocking, deflecting.
The barrage didn't end. More arrows poured from the spinning circles.
Arthur dove behind a tree, chest heaving. He pressed his back against the trunk, hoping for cover, but Winston merely raised a hand. With a cruel laugh, he directed the glowing circles, hovering them around Arthur's shelter.
Arthur's eyes widened. He was surrounded.
The arrows drew back, ready to fire all at once. His grip tightened on his daggers, but his breath shook. There was no way he could block them all.
And then—
A blazing stream of fire erupted across the battlefield, roaring like a living serpent. The flames engulfed the blood arrows in midair, reducing them to ash before they could strike Arthur.
Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief. "What—?"
He turned his head. The flames had come from Eamon.
Eamon stood in the open, sword clutched tightly in one hand. From his other hand, fire still licked at his fingertips, embers glowing against his bloodied skin. He was panting heavily, one arm raised, his eyes narrowed with focus and fury.
"Arthur!" he shouted, his voice strained. "Move now!"
Arthur didn't hesitate. He rolled from behind the tree, rushing back toward Eamon.
But the effort had cost Eamon. His concentration wavered for just a heartbeat—and in that heartbeat, one arrow slipped past his defenses.
It shot forward, piercing deep into his left shoulder.
"Ahhh!" Eamon screamed, falling to one knee as blood burst from the wound. His sword clattered beside him, his fingers trembling.
The glowing circles fizzled and vanished. Winston lowered his hand, the spell complete. His smirk widened as he saw Eamon on the ground.
Arthur sprinted toward his friend, panic in his eyes. "Eamon!"
But Winston appeared in his path like a shadow. His foot lashed out, catching Arthur in the side. The impact was brutal, sending him crashing back-first into a tree.
Arthur coughed, clutching his ribs.
Winston sneered. "Where do you think you're going?"
Before Arthur could rise, Winston was upon him. He slammed his fist into Arthur's stomach, again and again, each blow crushing the air from his lungs. Arthur gasped and choked, blood spilling from his mouth.
Another fist smashed into his jaw, another into his chest. Then Winston pulled back and drove a final, monstrous punch straight into Arthur's sternum.
The force sent Arthur crashing into the tree's trunk, his body embedding into the wood. Bark split and cracked, half of his torso forced into the stem as if the tree itself swallowed him.
Arthur groaned, barely conscious.
"How do you like that, huh, mixed-blood?" Winston jeered, his laughter ringing cruelly through the night.
Eamon's vision blurred, pain screaming in his shoulder. But as he saw Arthur trapped and broken against the tree, something inside him snapped.
He staggered to his feet, his sword trembling in his good hand. "You bastard!"
Rage consumed him. He sprinted forward, ignoring the blood dripping from his shoulder, ignoring the pain in his chest. His fist coiled back as he closed the distance, ready to crush Winston's smug face.
He roared and threw his punch—
But Winston was ready.
The monster caught Eamon's fist in his palm, the grin on his face wicked and mocking.
With a quick twist, he wrenched Eamon's arm until a sickening crack filled the air. Pain exploded through Eamon's body as his left arm snapped, bone tearing under the pressure.
Eamon screamed, agony ripping from his throat.
Winston chuckled darkly. "Pathetic."
And then, with a savage kick, he sent Eamon's body flying. The boy hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt before coming to a stop, bloodied and broken.