The older knight said to us,
"Please tell us—how much can we buy the Sky Dogs for? How about 100 gold coins?"
Seeing things were calm again everyone kept their weapons back.
Seeing that the older knight spoke respectfully, Emma replied in the same tone,
"Sir, the price of one Sky Dog is 300 gold coins. And we can't really sell them—we're in desperate need."
The young knight, knowing his Young Master didn't have 300 gold coins, tried to make things aggressive. If things escalated, he wouldn't be blamed later—after all, it's the final results that matter. He would also have his revenge.
The young knight snarled, "Young Master, they refused to sell it. They increased the price so high that they make fun of you and called you a bandit."
The older knight couldn't say much; he wasn't exactly lying—he had just mixed things up so he could get out of trouble later if needed.
The Young Master finally ordered, "Bring me those… I don't care about the process."
Tension flickered like a storm about to break.
The younger knight's face curled into an evil smile, pride burning hotter than reason. "Enough talk," he spat, raising his sword. "They mock the Young Master—cut them down!"
Armor clattered as ten knights surged forward, steel flashing in the green shadows of the forest.
Brock shifted first; his spear slid from his back with a whisper of metal. His stance widened, boots digging into the soil. "Guess we're doing this," he muttered.
Emma cracked her neck and drew her twin short blades. "About time," she said, the faintest grin tugging at her lips.
Emilia sighed, elegant fingers tracing the hilt of her rapier.
I announced, "Let them handle it. Raven and Lucas don't move unless it's necessary. In the first place Emma is partially responsible for this....as for others because, whatever."
The knights roared and charged.
The first wave met Brock head-on. He thrust his spear; the steel tip shattered a knight's shield with a deafening crack. The man stumbled back. Brock spun the shaft and swept his legs out from under him.
Another knight lunged from the side. Brock parried—sparks danced where metal met metal—then rammed his shoulder forward, slamming the man into a tree trunk. Bark splintered. The knight's helmet dented inward with a sickening thud.
"Two down," Brock grunted.
Emma darted past him like a shadow. Her twin blades gleamed, quicksilver in motion. She ducked under a swing, slashing across an exposed thigh, then pivoted and drove her second blade between armor plates at the knight's side. Blood spattered the moss, hot and dark.
"You talk too much," she said to Brock, voice cool but eyes bright with thrill.
"Someone has to keep count," he shot back, spinning his spear to block a downward strike.
Two more knights tried to flank Emma, shields raised. She retreated, letting them commit to the attack. At the last second she twisted sideways; her heel kicked up dirt, her left blade catching one by the neck. The other she disarmed with a feint—her blade flicked his sword away—then she slammed her knee into his chest. He fell gasping.
Emilia stepped forward just as the fifth knight approached. She didn't rush.
The knight swung wide. Emilia slid a half-step to the left; the rapier glided along his sword, redirecting its arc. Before he could recover she lunged—tap—the rapier's point slipping into the narrow slit beneath his arm guard.
The knight froze, breath hitching. Emilia withdrew her blade and wiped it on his cloak as he fell.
A shout came from behind—two knights charging. Emilia spun, rapier flashing in the dappled light. One strike deflected the first knight's blow; another thrust stabbed the other's knee joint. The man screamed, collapsing. Emilia sidestepped, leaving him to Brock, who finished the job with a brutal downward stab of his spear.
"Six down," Brock called, twisting his spear free from a fallen knight.
Emma exhaled, crouched low. "You sure? I think I got four."
"Count again."
"Fine."
Their banter continued even as another knight charged from behind. Brock turned just in time, parrying the man's thrust. He twisted sharply, wrenched the weapon free, and smashed the butt of his spear into the knight's jaw. Bone cracked.
The last few knights hesitated, realizing the danger. They regrouped near the clearing, shields locked.
Emma sprinted straight toward them.
The knights braced, shields raised in unison. At the last instant Emma dropped to a slide, momentum carrying her beneath the lowest edge of the shield wall. Her blades slashed upward in twin arcs. Armor split. Blood sprayed.
She rolled to her feet behind them, whirling. Two of the formation fell, their backs opened wide. The rest turned—just in time for Brock's spear to crash into their exposed side.
The spear swept in a wide horizontal strike, knocking aside three men at once. The force threw them off balance. Emilia advanced like flowing silk, rapier thrusting with surgical precision—one, two, three—each strike landing at a vulnerable joint.
By the time the last knight dropped his sword and fell to his knees, gasping, the forest had gone quiet again.
Brock planted his spear into the ground, breathing heavily. "That makes ten."
From the other side of the clearing, the older knight—who hadn't joined the battle—stood frozen, face pale. The mage near the Young Master looked equally stunned, though he didn't appear afraid.
Brock turned toward them, expression calm but voice low. "You still want to negotiate?"
The older knight swallowed hard. "Y-you… killed them all."
"We were defending ourselves," Emilia said, tone polite but icy. "Your men drew first."
The Young Master stepped forward, fury flickering. "Kill them!" he shouted.
Emma sighed, sliding her blades back into their sheaths. "Here we go again. Who will kill us?"
The mage stepped forward. "I will." He raised his staff and shouted a spell: Dust Eruption.
A huge dust cloud exploded outward, blinding everyone. Eyes streamed and stung as particles filled the air.
Lucas, sensing the shift, called, "The Storm's Grace!" A great wind answered him, clearing some of the dust—but the mage, half-hidden in the haze, responded with Avalanche Edge. Soil denied gravity and began to flow toward us like a thick, choking wave.
The spells themselves weren't independently devastating, but the way the mage combined them and timed them made them deadly—proof he was S-rank. He grinned.
"Water Terror!" Lucas countered, throwing a massive reserve of water at the oncoming earth.
The mage only shook his head and struck the ground with a fist. "Quake Fist!" he roared. The earth heaved beneath him. Before anyone could react he followed with Terra Burst—a scatter of stones and compressed soil hurled straight at us.
Lucas erects, "Wind Barrier!" but his shield shivered and broke under the onslaught.
Emma, Emilia, Brock, Raven, and the others jumped, slid, rolled—anything to avoid the oncoming debris. The mage no longer wished to play. But the debris were fast and too many in number. Everyone of them was hit by some wounding them.
"Mountain's Wrath," he intoned, summoning a titanic slab of rock aimed to crush the battlefield.
Lucas paled; he could protect himself, but not everyone. Everyone thought the same and guarded themselves. They were battered, but they survived. But they were exhausted- not because of time but intensity.
I said coldly, "That was for trying to irritate me."
Emma looked apologetic. "Sorry, sir—my behavior was unbecoming of an escort."
I sighed, then addressed the mage. "One last chance to go back. I don't want to cause unnecessary damage."
The mage smirked and slammed the earth again. "Seismic Spear."
A gigantic spear of compressed earth began to form, then another—and dozens more. The ground rumbled as the spears coalesced.
I pushed forward the power I had. "Apocalypse."
A massive force erupted outward, shoving and shattering everything in its path. The compressed spears exploded like grenades, disintegrating under the blast and being hurled away by the shockwave. The mage, shocked, scrambled.
"Young Master, we must retreat!" he cried.
"You haven't even fought long," the Young Master protested.
"I have fought long enough to know there is no way to win," the mage said urgently.
I interrupted, voice flat. "There is no retreat now. Too late for that."
Another Apocalypse—the force swept through the clearing and threw the mage so far he vanished from view, even beyond Omniscient's range. He carried away trees and soil with him. The forest around his flight path had been stripped bare.
I looked at the Young Master; terror had finally taken hold. I moved to kill him—no loose ends.Suddenly a pendant at his throat flashed and he vanished.
I stood stunned for a moment, then cursed softly. "He teleported."
Apocalypse can affect intangible things too; it could have stopped teleportation. But I hesitated ,not expecting this. It was too late now—he was already gone, likely at his destination.
I looked at the terrified older knight and sighed. "Leave."
Now that we were exposed, there was no point in killing him. The knight fled immediately.