The sky tore open in light.
A thunderous roar split the forest like a divine heartbeat. From the crest of a hill descended a creature wrapped in lightning—Thunder, the storm-forged steed, its mane crackling with electricity, its hooves striking the air as if driven by the storm itself. Upon its back rode a young man with a glacial gaze, a radiant spear in hand. At his side, a living shadow lunged forward—Umbra, the black wolf with crimson eyes—its fangs already buried in a mage's throat before the man could even scream.
The leader of the assassins felt cold dread crawl up his spine.
"No… it can't be…"
"The Douglas!" one of his men shouted.
His breathing grew heavy. Every muscle in his body tightened. This was the most delicate mission of his career: assassinate Prince Andrew—cleanly, quietly, without error, without drawing attention.
But the first setback had come even before the ambush began: a B-Delta Oryctes had slaughtered ten of his finest swordsmen in seconds. A bad omen.
And now this—
What descended from that hill was not reinforcement.
It was judgment.
"Damn it…" he spat through clenched teeth.
The Douglases didn't tip the balance.
They shattered it.
Every second lost meant more casualties, more ground slipping away, more risk that silence would turn into political chaos by dawn. The mission was collapsing.
But retreat was not an option.
Complete the mission. No matter the cost.
Thunder struck the ground in a burst of lightning that shook the earth. Three assassins lunged at the rider.
A flash.
A crack.
They fell, bodies convulsing under the electric shock.
Albert and Charles moved as one—perfect, precise. Steel sang through the air.
Three bodies hit the ground.
Lusian raised his sword. Its edge darkened, as though the shadows themselves bent to his will.
"Albert. Charles… capture them. I need them alive."
What followed was not a battle.
It was a silent, flawless execution.
Richard watched as his opponent faltered, stunned—and saw Albert approaching with calm certainty. The relationship between the Crown and the Douglases had always been… complicated. Many at court saw them as ruthless killers who operated in the dark.
But now?
Watching their precision, their efficiency—
Relief.
Unexpected, undeniable relief.
He also noticed something else: the assassin leader had activated a magical artifact. That became his priority.
Albert spoke calmly to Richard:
"Rest, boy. You've done well."
Richard, breathing hard, nodded. "Thank you, sir. But he's still dangerous."
Albert gave a slight nod. "If you have strength left, help me capture him. My lord has questions."
Richard stepped forward.
The assassin, realizing they intended to keep him alive, seized the moment. Wind mana wrapped around his body as he unleashed violent gusts toward Albert.
Albert met them head-on, his blade cloaked in fire.
Strike after strike—
Then—
The assassin's right arm was severed, the wound instantly cauterized.
Richard stared.
The difference in skill was… overwhelming.
Albert spoke, voice steady:
"My lord wants you alive. He never said you had to be whole."
With a swift motion, he cut off the assassin's remaining hand before another spell could form. Grabbing him by the throat, he dragged the broken man toward Lusian.
Elsewhere, Charles faced the enemy Magister.
The clash was brutal. Prolonged.
The attacker was exhausted—but still lethal.
In the end, Charles had no choice.
One clean strike—
The head fell.
Silence returned to the forest.
Bodies smoked. The scent of ozone lingered in the air.
Richard approached, still catching his breath.
"My Lord Douglas… you've saved us."
His tone carried tension—but also respect.
Lusian did not respond.
He dismounted Thunder and approached the captured leader.
"Umbra. Watch him."
The wolf growled softly and sat beside the prisoner, whose breathing came in ragged bursts.
"He's still alive," Albert noted.
"Good," Lusian replied coldly. "He'll stay that way until he tells me who sent him."
Only then did he turn to Prince Andrew.
The prince met his gaze—pride wounded, relief barely contained.
"Your Highness," Lusian said, voice firm, "you're safe. But if you wish to remain so, you'll need to be more careful."
Andrew clenched his fists, saying nothing, watching Lusian issue orders with quiet authority.
Lusian understood the stakes immediately.
The Crown needed to know.
The Empire was behind this.
He ordered his knights to capture as many assassins as possible—but the reality of the battlefield left little room for mercy. Many had to be killed to ensure survival.
In the end—
Only three were taken alive.
Smoke drifted between the trees. The scent of blood lingered.
Lusian stepped away from Thunder and fixed Andrew with a steady gaze.
"Explain. Exactly what happened here."
Andrew inhaled deeply, still riding the edge of adrenaline.
"We were ambushed… while fighting a mantis," he said, voice strained.
Lusian raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Who has the nerve to challenge the 'useless' prince like this?"
The tone was half mockery, half something sharper—concern hidden beneath steel.
Andrew lowered his gaze.
"I don't know… but we will."
Richard and Albert soon joined them.
"My lord," Albert reported, "they were all Imperial soldiers. We couldn't extract much—most died during interrogation."
Andrew rubbed his forehead, exhausted.
"Did you hear the names Alessia Ferrussi… or Leonardo?"
Richard shook his head.
"No, my lord. But something is off… none of the support squads responded."
The implication settled heavily.
This wasn't just an ambush.
It was orchestrated.
Then—
Movement in the distance.
Eight knights approached at a run, battered and bloodied. Their leader, Julián, halted abruptly upon seeing Lusian, hand on his sword.
The Douglas knights shifted instantly into position.
Thunder pawed the ground.
Umbra's eyes burned.
Andrew spoke sharply:
"Stand down. Why are you only arriving now?"
Julián stopped his men, though his gaze remained wary.
"We lost five, my lord," he said hoarsely. "We fought to survive. We wanted to answer your call—but we couldn't."
Andrew studied him for a moment.
"I understand. You brought back who you could."
Julián lowered his head.
Behind him, Lusian crossed his arms, observing.
"Five losses… from a unit of thirteen," he said coldly. "That wasn't a simple ambush."
Julián shook his head.
"No. They knew our route. Traps. Summoned beasts. And then… they retreated."
Andrew narrowed his eyes.
"Retreated?"
"Yes, my lord. As if they received a new order… or their objective changed."
Andrew's gaze shifted slowly to Lusian.
"That means they didn't just want me dead… they wanted me dead here. Without witnesses."
A brief silence.
Then Andrew exhaled.
"Fine… then I have no choice but to withdraw." He looked at Lusian. "I need you to escort me out of the forest. My men aren't enough."
Lusian didn't even hesitate.
"Forget it."
Andrew frowned, pressing:
"Please… do it for my sister. I can't risk another attack."
Lusian turned slightly, his tone flat, almost irritated.
"How troublesome."
But he didn't refuse again.
And Andrew followed.
Because whether he liked it or not—
His life now depended on him.
The sound of Thunder's hooves and Umbra's silent steps echoed through the trees, as the forest slowly, eerily, returned to calm.