Arven's teeth ground together as he steadied Happy and Joy in his arms. His fury boiled over, snapping the restraint he had left.
"Skele, Mist!"
The hound growled, jaw opening wide. Black vapor bled from its bones, coiling low at first, then sweeping outward like a tide. Within heartbeats, the battlefield drowned in suffocating gloom.
Morgan's vision wavered. Shapes bent, colors warped—darkness crawled into his eyes and lungs, dragging the world into a blur. His red gaze darted sharply, teeth bared.
"Tch—tricks again?"
He raised his axe, its edge crackling faintly, lightning dancing along the steel.
He swung once, raw force splitting the mist in a ragged line—just in time for a blade to meet his.
Clang!
Darius—the Storm of Elloria.
The knight's sword crashed against the axe, the impact flaring with sparks that lit the dark fog like fleeting stars.
They collided again—metal on metal, strike after strike, each blow ringing loud as thunder. Morgan's axe carried brute weight, every swing enough to tear the air apart. Darius answered with precision, his blade a streak of silver-blue, arcs of light flaring as if he wielded a shard of the storm itself.
The mist churned around them, amplifying the chaos. Shadows bent, making every clash look larger than life. For a moment it seemed like two titans had stepped onto the field—dark fog and lightning tearing at each other with each strike.
Crash! Sparks flew as Morgan drove forward, shoving Darius back a step. The knight's boots scraped across the mud, but his blade didn't falter. He surged in again, shoulders squared, his voice steady through the storm.
"You won't lay another hand on them."
Morgan only laughed, loud and unrestrained, like thunder rolling across the valley. His eyes gleamed, hungry for the fight.
"Then die, tattered knight. The storm is over."
Above them, the sky churned—clouds twisting, thunder muttering low, as if the heavens themselves flinched at their rage. The air thickened, every breath tasting of steel and rain. The storm answered, rain pouring harder as the two clashed once more—each strike flashing, each impact echoing like the sky itself was shattering.
The battlefield split into two storms.
Arven and his companions kept their distance, unable to see which way the fight tilted, afraid of being swallowed by the storm. Away from the center, he crouched low beside Happy and Joy. Both were breathing raggedly, their feathers soaked in rain and mud.
"Easy now," Arven muttered, steadying their shoulders as they coughed. His gaze never left the clash ahead, scanning for a gap. Skele's mist curled protectively around them, veiling the trio from stray eyes.
"Stay with me. We move when the chance comes."
Happy, wincing through the pain, let out a crooked laugh. "Ow… he's like a big mad pig."
Joy shook her head, her lips tight. "We would've been done for, if you didn't catch us..."
"Rest now," Arven said, eyes fixed on the blurred flashes within the mist. Each clash of axe and blade sent shudders through the air. "It's not over yet. You'll stand again when it's safe—but for now, let me handle it."
Just beyond them, half-hidden in the veil of darkness, Lila stood with her daggers in hand. Her knuckles whitened around the hilts. Each time sparks flared in the mist, her eyes flicked that way, her body coiled tight as if ready to spring.
Her heartbeat raced. She could end this faster if she joined in—she wanted to.
But Arven's voice lingered in her mind.
"Wait for my signal."
So she bit down on her impulse, forcing herself to stay still. Her breath came fast, her eyes locked on Arven through the fog.
Just say the word… just give the sign, and I'll move.
Behind them, the storm inside the mist raged on, every clash of blade and axe echoing like thunder.
The storm raged on.
Morgan's axe slammed against Darius's blade, each impact cracking the air, sending tremors through the earth. Shards of rock and splinters of wood burst out with every clash, scattering through the mist like shrapnel.
Arven hunched low, both arms locked tight around Happy and Joy, shielding their small frames with his own. His teeth clenched as another shockwave rattled through the ground, pelting his back with stone fragments.
Skele prowled at his side, the mist thickening in answer to Arven's will. But every breath he took felt heavier, every pulse of mana through his veins searing hotter. The faint glow of his rune marks throbbed across his skin, lines of fire beneath the flesh—mana burn chewing away at his strength.
Still, he didn't let go.
"Stay down," Arven murmured through ragged breath, pulling the harpy twins tighter against him as another shower of debris rained past. His arms trembled, not from fear but from the strain of forcing mana to obey, pushing past what his body could handle.
Happy tilted his head up, his vision blurred, and saw it. The sweat clinging to Arven's jaw. The grim line of his mouth. The faint red creeping into the whites of his eyes.
"Big… big brother?" Happy whispered, voice shaking.
Joy's fingers dug into Arven's sleeve. Her throat tightened. "Why? Why go this far for us?"
Arven let out a short, strained laugh. "Because…" His breath hitched, heat crawling up his throat. "…kids like you shouldn't be lying broken in the dirt while some bastard swings an axe around."
Another blast roared through the mist, shaking the ground beneath them. Arven grit his teeth, bracing his body as a wave of rocks pelted his back. He refused to move, refused to loosen his grip, even as the sharp edges cut into him.
Happy's wide eyes shimmered with something heavier than fear.
Joy bit her lip until it bled, staring up at the man shielding them.
Neither of them spoke. They didn't have to.
Because in that moment, with Morgan and Darius's storm tearing the world apart just steps away, they saw it—Arven's body standing between them and ruin, his will burning even as his mana devoured him from the inside.
A sacrifice no one had asked for, but one he gave freely.
The twins stared up at him, wide-eyed.
For the first time, no one was demanding from them. No chains. No voices calling them weak or broken.
He was just… shielding them.
Happy's vision blurred. Memories flickered—empty nights in the mountains, the cold biting deeper than hunger. No parents, no nest, no guiding wings. Just him and his sister, huddled together, waiting for dawn.
Joy's chest tightened. She remembered beasts in the shadows, the fear of every rustling leaf. And then Morgan—the bandit lord who promised shelter, promised safety. But all he'd given was a gilded cage.
Escape to Elloria had been their only breath of peace.
And now—this man. This strange, reckless man who burned himself just to keep them from breaking.
"Why?" Happy whispered, throat raw. "Why go this far for us…?"
Arven laughed hoarsely, voice cracking as another pulse of mana tore through him.
"Because I've felt that same emptiness. That same loneliness. And I won't let you carry it alone."
The twins froze.
Joy's fingers curled into his sleeve. A hot tear slipped down her cheek.
He doesn't see us as beasts. He sees us…
Happy's chest ached, sharp and unfamiliar. Something he'd never dared to feel before.
Family. Could this be… family?
Around them, the battle raged—Morgan's roar, Darius's steel, the mist and lightning. But the noise dulled, fading into the distance.
For the first time in their lives, the twins weren't afraid.
They were being held. Protected. Cherished.
And silently, through trembling lips and beating hearts, they made a vow.
To never forget this warmth.
To repay it, no matter the cost.
To follow Arven—not as beasts, not as birds in a cage—but as kin.
— Their nest. Their belonging. Their family.
Arven's arms tightened around them, shielding them from another spray of stone. His breath came ragged, chest burning from mana strain. Still, he refused to let go.
At that moment, something stirred.
A faint chime echoed in his mind.
[Will you form a bond with the Harpy Twins, Happy and Joy?]
[They see you as their family, their nest. A place they belong.]