Richard assessed his enemies in an instant—and a chill ran down his spine.
Before them stood a terrifying formation. At its center, the leader: a Magister-Delta warrior of Earth affinity, his mere presence making the ground tremble. At his side, a fire-attuned Magister, two Lord-Gamma warriors wielding wind with lethal precision, and a Lord-Beta cloaked in shadow. Behind them, six Lord-class swordsmen and four Lord-Beta mages formed a ruthless rear guard, ready to strike without hesitation.
Against such force, Richard's position was grim.
Beside him stood Edward, a Lord-Delta with mastery over ice, two Lord-Gamma warriors, three Lord-Alpha fighters, and three Lord-Beta mages specializing in water and wind. And at the center of it all—Prince Andrew: Legionario-Delta. Physically fragile, but possessing extraordinarily pure mana.
The numbers did not favor the royal side. Richard knew it. Every second mattered. Every move had to be calculated with absolute precision if they were to survive.
At last, a figure stepped out from the mist. Darkness seemed to cling to him, devouring the light around his body.
"No need for names," said the leader, his earth mana vibrating through the ground. "Hand over the prince, and the rest of you live."
Richard clenched his jaw.
"You'll have to walk over all of us to get him, bastard."
The man smiled—calm, cruel.
"That can be arranged."
The tension snapped.
Andrew's guards formed a protective circle—shields forward, mages behind, weapons ready. Richard activated a small communication artifact; it flashed blue—the emergency signal to royal squads.
The air thickened with the scent of iron, sweat, and compressed mana.
"Attack!" the enemy leader commanded.
The Magister-Delta surged forward with devastating speed. Steel collided with steel in explosive force. The mages' barrier held for mere seconds before cracking under earth-infused blows.
The defensive line staggered.
Richard intercepted the enemy leader; their blades clashed with a shockwave that splintered nearby trees. On the right flank, Edward froze the ground, slowing the wind-wielding Lord-Gamma fighters.
But the attackers were prepared.
They knew the prince's guard formation.
They knew exactly where to strike.
Dark magic flooded the battlefield, dulling reflexes and clouding minds. Two swordsmen struck simultaneously, aiming to fracture the formation. Andrew's group began to buckle.
Amid the chaos, Andrew struggled to breathe. Each lightning discharge demanded more from his body—but he refused to stop.
In just two brutal minutes, the ground was carved with craters and soaked in blood. Five of Andrew's Lord-class warriors fell. Three attackers lay dead or dying in return.
Then—
The barrier shattered.
It burst into fragments of blue light.
Two of Andrew's mages, trembling from exhaustion, unleashed a final combined spell of pressurized water, slamming enemies into trees. Seizing the moment, Andrew drew on the moisture in the air and roared—
A bolt of lightning tore through the battlefield, incinerating another foe.
Edward dropped to his knees, gasping, on the brink of collapse.
The enemy leader raised his hand, halting the assault. He, too, was calculating.
He stepped forward calmly, approaching Richard.
"Surrender," he said, almost gently. "No one is coming. Everything has been arranged so the prince dies today. Step aside, Bourlance… and I'll spare your life."
Richard met his gaze, fury burning through exhaustion.
"If I abandon my lord, I cease to be a knight. What value would my name have then?"
The man studied him—half mockery, half twisted respect.
"Then I'll grant you a quick death."
Richard moved first, intercepting him before he could reach the prince. Edward, with what little strength remained, engaged the second Magister.
Between clashes, Richard shouted to Andrew:
"Your affinity gives you an edge—use it!"
No further explanation was needed.
Andrew understood.
His Delta affinity consumed less mana than most. That margin—that small advantage—could mean the difference between life… and death.
The enemy leader, also Delta-affinity Earth, moved like an unstoppable force, reinforcing his body until it became nearly impervious.
Without another word, he raised his hand.
"Finish them."
Flames collided with walls of ice. Blades of wind sliced through trees like paper. Richard summoned a rotating wall of water to deflect a rain of enchanted swords. Edward launched spears of ice at point-blank range, holding back three enemies—but his breathing faltered.
"Damn it… they knew we'd come this way," Richard muttered, realizing the trap. The attackers were splitting them apart, dismantling their formation piece by piece.
The battle turned desperate.
Each knight now faced two opponents.
The mages reinforced a combined elemental barrier—but the enemy leader cracked it with a single strike. Richard felt it immediately:
If that barrier fell… the prince would die.
For two hellish minutes, the forest burned with flashes of fire and lightning. Five more of Andrew's knights fell. Three attackers were cut down.
Then it happened.
One of the enemy mages broke through.
The formation collapsed.
In that instant, Andrew's remaining mages poured their last reserves into a final water spell, blasting enemies back.
Andrew raised his hand.
"Lightning of Judgment!"
A bolt crashed down from the sky, amplified by the soaked earth, obliterating a Lord-class enemy. The ground trembled under the impact.
But it wasn't enough.
Andrew saw it clearly now—
Edward on his knees, a spear of fire driven through his chest.
Richard barely standing.
And the enemy leader… advancing.
Step by step.
Unstoppable.
This could be the end.
The assassin raised his sword, ready to deliver the final blow—
And in that suspended instant, where even the forest seemed to hold its breath… everything hung on the edge of a single heartbeat.