Elenore had absolute focus on the area where the Shadowlander had tumbled down the mountainous path to the Dragon Palace. Sumner’s men were hardened warriors, fiercely loyal, well-equipped, and prepared for what was to come—prepared enough to stake their lives. That dedication to a leader did not come easy.

And these factors working in tandem were the only reason they did not break against the Shadowlander immediately.

The moment the titanic creature of darkness landed on the streets, those stationed nearby leapt at it decisively even in their fear. Their blades—some enchanted, some simple steel—wobbled and shook when they met with the Shadowlander’s flesh as though they struck stone instead of meat. The weapons and enchantments did some damage, but the utter non-effect plainly demonstrated Orion’s superior stature to normal men.

The creature, stunned from the fall, came alive as it was attacked. It rose to its feet and swiped its too-long arms at the attackers. It was a motion no more complex than pushing away an annoying pet, yet powerful enough that all five knights took to the air, clashing into their comrades or meeting the stone walls of Dirracha. Despite the show of insurmountable prowess, those behind advanced—there was no moral gray in this battle, only honor and duty. And Sumner’s men rose to their task, shouting in defiance and slamming their boots upon the earth.

Elenore relayed its position to the duke but could do nothing more beyond that. She sighed a breath of relief when she noticed Galamon suspended higher up on the mountain cliff, if only because she knew his death would crush Argrave. Some of his bones were broken, yet he stubbornly clung to the mountain. Further up, within the Dragon Palace, she watched Argrave’s actions.

“Come on. Let’s go, Mary Poppins—use your magic boots to take me down,” Argrave demanded of Anneliese, clearly worried for his friend and the situation down below. “Anyone who has healing spells—work on getting Orion back to fighting shape,” he pointed beyond.

Orion crouched there. With his fight done, he barely managed to keep his eyes open. “I wear this pain as an honor, brother. Leave me. Go,” he said weakly, some blood in his mouth.

Argrave shook his head in disbelief at the prince’s words and looked to Vasilisa. “You used S-rank magic. I can’t expect you to do more than that. So, please stay here,” he told her.

The blonde woman knelt beside Orion. “I’ll keep your brother alive. Do whatever the hell you did back then with Margrave Ivan.”

“Read my mind,” Argrave nodded, then turned to Anneliese. “Let’s go,” he said, offering his hand.

Elenore watched as the two of them took a running start and leapt off the mountainous stretch of the Royal Road, her heart leaping just as they fell. Soon enough, Anneliese half-carried Argrave as the two of them relied on her enchanted boots that projected wind. Even as they fell daintily through the sky, the Shadowlander’s influence crept through the streets of Dirracha as hundreds of soldiers pressed against it. Though Sumner had managed to disperse most citizens, in the distant reaches of the city people panicked and fled for the tightly shut gates to the wall.

As more and more poured into the fight with the Shadowlander, the foul monster demonstrated it was no easy quarry. The tide of steel arms raged against it unabated, and it did not fall back—no, it was forced back. Though every swipe of its clawed hand tore through steel and flesh, and though it cleaved them in twain whenever it used its unnatural magic… Sumner’s troops proved their commitment to the kingdom of Vasquer was not rooted in mere opportunism or base greed. They fully intended to die for their cause. And many did. Dozens. Hundreds. Elenore could not even count.

Argrave and Anneliese alighted atop a distant building, staring down at this fight. Argrave took a deep breath, then cast a spell. A bow of blood took shape in his hand. Elenore had heard of this attack several times, but had never before seen it—[Bloodfeud Bow], it was called. Up ahead, all of the mages of Sumner’s force, the majority of his archers, and Sumner himself waited for the creature to come within striking distance.

Even despite their commitment, numbers were thinning faster than they could be replaced. Argrave was not blind to this—panicked, he tried to step into a better position so as to force it into the kill zone.

Just then… Elenore felt a disturbance. It was so similar in make to that of the aura the Shadowlander emitted it nearly escaped her notice. Atop a building, almost opposite Argrave, a shadow manifested. Someone crawled out of it. It was someone Elenore remembered all too well—Traugott. His eyes scanned the scene. Then, he held his hand out. She could see his body light up with mobilized power, and then a great ripple of mana split the air.

It all happened so quickly Elenore could not help but scream, “No!”

Traugott’s spell completed. A great mass of ice erupted outwards like an unending deluge from a burst dam. As it took shape, a gargantuan claw raised above the scene. It craned, cracking and splintering mightily as all on the battlefield stared in awe at this baffling arrival. Then, it descended.

When it slammed against the Shadowlander, Elenore briefly lost herself to confusion for a moment. The beast crumpled from the surprise attack. Just as suddenly as it had formed, the claw of ice pulled back, dragging an unbalanced Shadowlander straight into the city square. It rolled, tumbling, and then the ice shattered. It fell amidst thousands of ice crystals, completely exposed.

Panicked and befuddled, Elenore barely remembered to shout, “Attack! Send the order!”

But her order did not need to reach Sumner—he was competent enough to know when his opportunity had come. He gave the signal—a single blown horn. And with that, unrivalled destruction rained upon the Shadowlander. Ice, fire, frost, earth, lightning, and even simple crossbow bolts ripped across the wide-open square. The Shadowlander did not have time to react, let alone resist.

Even as it was being barraged, Argrave held his [Bloodfeud Bow] ready, waiting for an opportunity. Opposite him, Traugott cast another spell. Another mana ripple split the air, signifying another high-rank spell soon came. Elenore’s heart dropped again as she feared he would change targets. A gigantic hammer of wind took shape in the air, craning backwards. The Shadowlander could not escape the barrage of spells, yet still the hammer came down, pounding it into the ground to cement its fate. Its legs failed, and it collapsed. Argrave seized on the opportunity, releasing his blood magic.

The bolt of blood struck the Shadowlander firmly on the chest, digging in a few inches before dispersing. Even that attack was not enough to pierce it fully, and so the barrage continued for a while longer. Anneliese cast B-rank spell after B-rank spell, her A-rank ascendency [Life Cycle] enriching her magic supply with the constant discharge of magic nearby.

After what must’ve been a minute, the relentless barrage slowly faded away as the last of the power was expended. The Shadowlander reached one arm out, making all watching step away in despair. Then, thin curtains of light pushed past the grasping darkness, falling onto its hand. More light poured in, illuminating the city and warding away the foul darkness as its hand fell to the earth, still and dead. Everyone cheered in jubilation, but Argrave swayed, fell to one knee, and looked across from him with caution.

Traugott and Argrave locked gazes.

#####

Georgina and Rovostar stared at a teetering detached tower barely clinging on to the Dragon Palace, their men just behind. The battle between Orion and that foul, shadowy creature had raged through here, very nearly casting this tower to the city below. Georgina sized it up.

The path ahead was thin—very thin. It had once been a railed bridge, but that had crumbled away leaving a path no wider than one person. The tower itself was tilted at a harsh, perhaps forty-five-degree angle, barely persisting on a thin pillar of enchanted stone. There was no break from the wind, and it raged against the tower and the walls both, creating a treacherous path only the mad would walk.

“At the very least, it’s unguarded,” Georgina said optimistically, looking at the treacherous and wind-blown bridge.

“I don’t like it,” the duke said. “You go across. It looks unstable. Too much weight, it might finish what those two monsters started.”

Georgina looked at Rovostar, trying to disguise the contempt in her eyes. Even until this moment, the common-born duke did not trust her commitment to King Felipe III. Perhaps it was because she had never shared her reasons for support. That distrust only gave her more reason to hide those reasons.

“Fine,” she said brusquely. “Not like you’d be useful, anyway.”

The bald, scarred freak laughed, then angled his head sideways towards the collapsed bridge. “Just walk, beautiful.”

Georgina headed for the bridge without hesitation. She’d learned long ago to display no weakness in front of anyone. The path was thin, and every step that she took she feared it might crumble beneath her feet. Consequently, the few times it did crumble away, she was quickly able to correct herself. And before she even realized it, she stood at the door to the tower. It was angled as severely as the tower.

She tested the door, then chuckled beneath her breath when she realized it was still locked even tilted as dangerously as it was. She braced one foot against the wall, then retrieved her lockpicking kit. One small fortune of the mayhem meant any enchantments on the lock had shattered. She stuck a ridged stick and thin hook inside the keyhole. In not five seconds, the lock clicked. Georgina adjusted to get out of its way and pulled the door open.

On the opposite side of the door, Georgina first saw the cityscape. Most of the floor had fallen away, leaving few places for anyone to get a foothold. Her heart sunk as she realized this meant Felipe’s survival was unlikely. Still, her eyes wandered, then lit up as she noticed someone trying to stay out of sight.

“You?” King Felipe said. He had been shackled to the wall by the window by his legs, and even now sat on the angled windowsill. “Hah. And to think I doubted your loyalty. You’ve served me much better than my own kin.”

By this point, most of the king’s hairs had gone gray. Georgina hadn’t seen him in a long while, but this still stunned her. He had been graying before… but this? He was an A-rank mage, slow to age. It made little sense before that he should have grays, but now it was simply baffling. Perhaps there were other causes. Looking at him, Georgina judged the rumors were true—his hands were gone.

“Where’s Levin?” she asked.

“He was kept on the second floor. I don’t know, or care, of his fate. Given what’s happening, we should leave quickly,” he said, adjusting.

Georgina nodded. Slowly, she crept along the wall. C-rank wind magic was sufficient to break the shackles around Felipe’s legs. Then, as chains dangled precariously, she helped him across. The tilt of the tower was treacherous, but not so much so the king couldn’t walk. His simple stumps where his hands had been proved little help to walking, and Georgina dedicated most of her time to keeping the king steady.

Slowly yet surely, they made it to the door of the tower. They climbed out of the entrance, then Georgina advanced to the thin stone pathway. Behind, Felipe clambered up while she supported his arms. She advanced across the path first, turning her head back and eyeing Rovostar with a smug sense of superiority.

The duke raised his head up and widened his eyes. Georgina took the signal and turned her head just in time to see someone jump out of the tower’s window. The assailant howled, slamming into Felipe as fast as gravity would allow. As Felipe tried to grapple with this new foe to support himself, Georgina very quickly realized she would need to release the king or fall with them. And the choice was easy.

Georgina let go of the king, and the other two fell off the side. She realized only as they did that the attacker was Levin. Despite the suicidal fall they experienced, he jammed his fingers into the king’s eyes as they fell. One screamed in pain and the other in rage as gravity claimed both of them. And in time, the wind drowned out the both of their screams, and there was nothing more of them.

“No…” Georgina said in quiet disbelief. Instead of sorrow, rage bubbled up. She fell to the ground, pounding her fist against the stone pathway, sending bricks crumbling away to the city below. “No. No, no, no! After all this?!”