Witchcraft

Tension kept rising as Lance, Arnold, and Commander Rock stood locked in a deadly standoff, each waiting for the other to make a move.

Boom!

The explosion from the platform echoed through the forest like thunder. All three men turned their heads.

Arnold reacted slower than the other two. But both Lance and Commander Rock ignored the blast—any advantage in battle was too valuable to waste.

Commander Rock, using the cover of the noise, unsheathed his blade with a swift, silent motion—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lance, unfazed by the explosion or Rock’s blade, dashed toward Arnold, who was still staring at the burning remains of his hometown.

Arnold realized too late. He raised his guard, but it was already over.

Or so it seemed.

Lance's charge came to a halt as arrows whistled past Arnold—forcing Lance to veer to the side and dodge.

Arnold blinked in shock, only to realize a second later as he shouted.

"Thanks, Julie!"

Floating gently down from the sky, a woman with long blonde hair and eyes as dark as coal landed beside Arnold. She wore a flowing blue dress and a white bracelet around her neck. A quiver was strapped to her leg, and her bow was already nocked with another arrow.

"You always do this," Julie scolded, sighing. "If I hadn’t helped, you’d have been seriously injured. At least think before you act."

Lance, keeping his distance, examined the arrows. His eyes narrowed.

Poison.

Though he’d likely built resistance to Green Tiger venom, poison came in many forms—and even a small dose from the right source could kill.

He paused, taking no chances.

Lance closed his eyes. The world around him faded into darkness. In that void, he envisioned a bow—then raised his hand. As his fingers touched the imagined weapon, the shadows cracked and collapsed.

The bow materialized in the real world, summoned through a mysterious rift.

Arnold and Commander Rock were stunned.

One word rang out in both their minds:

Mage.

Julie didn’t waste time. She loaded her next arrow, ready to strike—but held her shot.

The bush to Lance’s left rustled violently.

A massive man burst forth, clad in full steel armor. Only his piercing green eyes were visible behind his helmet. In his hand was a warhammer that looked like it could shatter stone.

Andy.

Without hesitation, Andy charged Lance.

Lance, still weakened from summoning his bow, was breathless. His body screamed for sleep. He couldn’t dodge.

Andy’s hammer struck Lance dead-on, sending him flying backward.

Julie saw the opportunity. She loosed her arrow.

It hit.

Now bleeding from the stomach and shoulder, Lance was poisoned, wounded, and seemingly finished. His body went limp, motionless.

"Stop!" Arnold shouted.

Julie and Andy looked back at him.

"This is supposed to be my fight! What the hell am I supposed to do if you two kill him?!" Arnold barked.

Andy, ever the considerate one, said calmly, "Well, he isn’t completely dead. You can finish him off."

Still annoyed, Arnold approached Lance’s broken body. He drew his silver sword, gripping it with both hands. He raised it above his head, aiming for Lance’s neck.

He began the swing.

And then—his sword vanished.

Arnold froze. His hands felt lighter. He looked down in shock.

The blade was gone.

Unbeknownst to them, Commander Rock had positioned himself and two of his men in a nearby bush, ready to capture one of the trio to interrogate them about Henry and Rose’s deaths.

They had been waiting for Arnold’s strike to act.

But Rock’s plan crumbled in that instant.

The silver sword reappeared—in Lance’s hand.

Julie and Andy, standing a few meters back, realized too late.

"Andy!" Julie cried.

"Dodge!"

Arnold, still confused, muttered, "Huh?"

But it was too late.

He watched in horror as his left arm was severed at the elbow. Blood sprayed into the air. The pain hit him like a tidal wave.

Lance, grinning through bloodied lips, stood with one arm hanging useless—but the other holding the stolen sword.

The trio’s faces twisted into horror.

Commander Rock stared in disbelief, whispering, “Witchcraft...”

Arnold screamed in agony, collapsing to his knees and vomiting onto the forest floor.