The two behind Lyria shake their heads to the side while the half-vampire seemed to feel embarrassed for having been saved by the person who damaged her eye.
"Who is he?"
"He's the bastard who did this to my eye."
"I already like hi— I mean, what a bastard."
Sicra looks to the side, trying to play it off, while Lyria feels an urge to glare at the leader of this mission. She only doesn't do it because she has to maintain her old personality.
"This guy messed with the great leader's plans? I'm going to kill this heretic."
"You can try, but I don't think you'll manage it, and besides, we need to get out of here alive first."
"But Lady Sicra—"
They already knew what the leader was going to say, so both Galahard and Lyria weren't entirely pleased, but given the situation this was the best chance to escape. Sicra takes a step forward, approaching Enrico.
"All right, but like you said, it'll be temporary."
"Fine, then we'd better run."
Enrico quickly passes by them without looking back. The three look toward the place he had just come from and see that Rhaziel and the elves were still alive. Besides that, behind them, Malik's eldest son was arriving with other guards.
"Get them!"
"Don't let any of them escape!"
"Damn it, let's follow the heretic, Lady Sicra!"
The three started running while several lines of fire latched on behind them. This was certainly Enrico's magic in action. And it was holding up well, since the attacks made by the guards and Rhaziel couldn't get through.
"How is this holding out for so long against so many attacks?"
"It must be because he's stronger, but when that elf with birds around him launches an attack—"
Enrico, who was in front, saw some guards with swords running toward him. Pressing his legs, he used the stored momentum combined with the fire steps. The guards who were about to attack him split into several pieces, as if they had been cut by blades of fire.
"Arrows are useful for more things than just shooting."
As he passed by, the guards were left divided, each of his hands holding an arrow. They were made of ash, so even if the elves didn't die, they wouldn't be able to follow them. At least the weaker ones.
Galahard creates a barrier of light behind them when he notices several attacks coming from behind.
"Good work, Galahard."
"Well, the heretic seems to be doing pretty well too, so he's not that bad."
Sicra looks at Galahard's arrogant expression with a neutral face. A second ago he wanted to kill him, and now he was praising him as if he were a companion.
'As always, he's an idiot.'
Tightening her whip, she strikes forward. A loud crack is heard in the air when an explosion passes by Enrico and hits other elf guards who were ahead.
While the three attacked and defended, Lyria was getting tired. It was hard to keep up with the three since they were at a higher level than hers. The stone floor of the castle seemed to stretch beneath her feet, each step heavier than the last. The metallic sound of blades and the hiss of magic echoed through the corridors, mixing with the screams of wounded elves.
"Damn… they just keep coming…"
Feeling her legs tremble, she tried to speed up but felt more and more difficulty. Enrico noticed out of the corner of his eye. Without slowing down, he extended his hand backward.
"Hold my hand, I can carry you."
Before she could respond, the corridor ahead exploded in green light. Three elves appeared, leaping from the side columns, ancient symbols glowing on their foreheads.
"We are the Vanguard of Kairiath!"
"I am Aelthorn, circle six!"
"Vaeliris, tamer of winds!"
"And Cenwynn, blade of the moon! And you are as good as dead!"
They advanced in perfect synchronization, as if that attack had been trained a thousand times. Sicra decided to command them somehow.
"Galahard, get ready."
She says something to them, and Enrico hears it and immediately acts according to what they were about to do. Time seemed to break for an instant. Enrico planted his foot on the ground, and the lines of fire that had served as defense retracted, condensing around his arms and legs. Galahard raised both hands, the light not forming a barrier… but symbols. Sicra's whip cracked, not forward, but into the air—as if pulling something invisible.
Lyria's eyes widened when she saw the world slow down. Enrico's ash arrow was launched after… but hit first. It pierced the elf's chest as if the future had been rewritten. At the same instant, Galahard's symbol shone and doubled the impact, shattering the magical defense that hadn't even been activated yet.
'So this is Sicra's true magic.'
Vaelir tried to retreat, the wind bending around his body—but Sicra's whip caught his ankle. It wasn't an ordinary snare: the crack tore through space, and Vaelir was pulled forward in time, appearing exactly where Galahard's blade of light was already coming down, splitting him in two.
Cenwynn screamed, raising the lunar sword. The ground beneath his feet turned to ash, and Enrico's lines of fire exploded upward, forming vertical blades that cut him into dozens of fragments before the scream even ended.
"I have to say… we actually make a good team."
"Like I thought, you really aren't that bad, heretic."
"Idiot."
Lyria fell to her knees, surprised by the three's ability to work as a team. Without a doubt, she had a difficult path ahead to reach their level.
It was a shame there was no time to celebrate. The walls creaked as if they were alive, and an absurd pressure descended over everyone, crushing the air in their lungs. Even Enrico felt his knees give for a second.
"Enough."
The voice was calm. Tired. Irritated. From the middle of the dust, a tall figure emerged, hair long like ancient roots, eyes glowing with a green far too deep to be natural. His presence caused the magical symbols on the walls to fade out. Sicra felt a chill run down her spine.
"Malik…"