The dust and bushes made it difficult for them to see where Larsen was. They waited in tense silence, eyes narrowed, breaths shallow.
"Surround them. Don't go near," came Kael's sharp command, calm but cold.
Selene didn't listen. She rushed in.
Kael didn't stop her. She was his rival, not his subordinate.
She started weaving through the tangled undergrowth. That's when it happened.
A sudden snap of metal slicing through the air. A chain lined with jagged, glinting spikes exploded from the shadows, rushing straight toward her chest like a serpent striking from the dark.
Fiona gasped. Bran instinctively reached for his weapon. Kael tensed but couldn't move, his eyes tracking the chain. It all happened in an instant.
But just as it was about to pierce her
Clang!
The chain dropped.
Motionless.
Dead weight on the dirt.
Larsen was already standing there.
He had impaled the Belenorian from behind, his dagger buried deep in the man's chest. With a cold, effortless motion, he kicked the body forward, wrenching the blade free as the enemy stumbled and crumpled.
Without a word, Larsen slipped the dagger back into its sheath and began brushing the dust off his clothes, calmly and methodically, as if nothing had happened.
He didn't even glance at them. He was practically ignoring everyone.
Then he looked up
"What?"
Everyone was watching him. Bran and Fiona were smiling. They were relieved, almost laughing.
But Kael and Selene weren't. Their faces were tight with the weight of responsibility. They knew how close things had come to disaster. One wrong move, and the entire situation could've spiraled.
The instructors above were only half-watching now, divided between the ambush and the chaos that had just unfolded.
If anything had gone differently, even slightly, it could've drawn full attention and turned into a deadly distraction.
****
Up in the trees, the instructors had already tapped into their second form, sending mana from their cores through their bodies.
Ravnar and Mason were hiding a little to the sides, forming a rough V shape. Ethan was in the middle, a bit more out in the open. He leaned slightly toward Ravnar, as there was a narrow path below him.
The instructors were fully focused on the sound. They could now tell exactly where it was coming from.
But it wasn't coming from the direction they had guessed. They looked at each other, gave a small nod, and quietly changed their positions.
The sound grew louder. Leaves rustled. Birds flew off in panic. The branches swayed as something moved quickly through the undergrowth.
Then, through the trees, they could see Valerick. He was giving signals, practically shouting.
Behind him, a group of people was chasing him. They held broken spears and rusted swords. All of them wore the same torn, brown robes.
Their hair was messy, and most of them were barefoot. One might have felt sorry for them if not for their faces.
Their faces were twisted with anger. There was pure hate in their eyes. Their cheeks were sunken from hunger, and they shouted like wild animals.
The instructors waited and waited. They were waiting for them to step into the V of their formation. Ethan was waiting for a signal from Mason who was nearer to Valerick, so that he could unleash his piercing stones at the enemy.
He was ready to fire. The sharp stones around him floated in mid-air, trembling with energy. The plan was to neutralize them and trap them from both sides.
...but Valerick and the belenorians chasing him didn't seem to be making any progress. It looked like they had slowed down.
Then came a sound: a donkey braying. Loud, strange, and creepy, very creepy. "Heeee-haaww. Heee-haaww."
They looked down and saw the donkey standing there. Just a donkey in the middle of nowhere, out of nowhere. They were confused and surprised. Nobody noticed it earlier
When they looked up again, Valerick and the Belenorians were already there. No, not just there. They were right on top of them.
Panic hit.
Ethan unleashed Piercing Stones without holding back. The sharp projectiles shot through the air, fast and wild. Ravnar and Mason didn't wait. They started throwing hands. Ravnar's punch hit the Belenorian like an explosion.
One man flew back several feet and crashed into the ones behind him, knocking them all down. They hit the ground hard, groaning, as dust rose around them.
And anyone who touched Mason was shocked, literally. The electricity burst on contact.
That was the power of the Elemental magic—just the Second Form.
The sharp stones passed through them like knives through butter. Behind, the other two instructors had overpowered them. They were getting butchered, fast and effortlessly.
It all happened in fear and confusion.
Even Valerick, running ahead at a distance, was struck by one of the stones. He cried out,
"What are you doing?!"
Nobody listened.
He shouted again, but to no effect. It was like they had gone into a trance due to fear.
"Ravnar!, Ethan!, Mason!", he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Stop this madness, now!"
Hearing their names snapped them out of it.
The remaining Belenorians had gathered in the middle, holding onto each other tightly. Their eyes were filled with fear. They were staring at the instructors with those fearful eyes. They clung to their children, shaking. They looked half-mad—silent, scratching at their thin and malnourished bodies in anxiety.
There were fewer than ten of them left. Most were women and children.
The men and the young fighters lay dead around them.
"What have you done?" Valerick shouted, storming up to Ethan and getting right in his face, eyes burning with anger, like he was about to tear him apart.
"Look at them!" he yelled, pointing at the Belenorians. "Did they look like such a big threat that you had to go all out? We weren't here to kill them!"
"They were suddenly right on top of us," Ethan said quietly, his voice shaking. "I didn't think they'd be this weak."
He looked down. Guilt and fear covered his face.
"I… I'm sorry. But they killed the girl"
Valerick stepped back slightly, still breathing hard.
Even he hadn't expected the Belenorians to be this weak.
Just as they were having this conversation, the Belenorian women began crying loudly. Their voices were shaky, speaking words no one understood. Maybe it was a different language. Maybe it was just grief.
They clutched their dead, rocking back and forth. Their eyes were red, dry from crying too much. No more tears came, but the pain was still there.
The instructors stepped aside, finally realising what had happened.
The cries grew louder and louder.
Birds flew off in large flocks from all directions, wings flapping wildly.
It felt like the forest itself had been shaken. Something deep inside it had just woken up.