Soliloquy

Inside the earthen dome Art had created, the group remained silent. They took deep breaths, alert to the barrage of attacks exploding outside. Each impact made the structure tremble and sent dust rising through the cramped interior.

“Don't lose sight of me... On three!” whispered the young Striker, his voice steady but quickened by adrenaline. “One... Two... Three!”

The barrier collapsed into fragments of earth. Sylvaine, the Shielder with long red hair, was the first to rise. With a swift movement, she raised her red shield above her head, absorbing the immediate impact of a volley of mana-infused arrows.

The thunder of attacks echoed against the metal, each explosion forcing her back a step. Her dark red armor with silver details covered her entire body, making her seem one with the shield. Magic of every element struck her—water, air, fire, and earth—all trying desperately to break through her defense. An arrow ricocheted off her helmet, and she gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold her ground.

Diana, the golden-eyed Archer with lilac hair, threw three small light grenades forward. The flash swallowed part of the battlefield, opening a path through the enemies.

Art spun on his heel and, in a single motion, unleashed a wave of wind around him. The opponents were thrown backward. Without wasting a second, he charged forward, creating and hurling blades of water at those who tried to surround them.

Diana followed behind, taking aim at the archers hidden among the trees. Arrow after arrow struck true, forcing the enemies to retreat. Sylvaine, at the rear of the formation, held the line, continuing to block the heaviest attacks with her shield.

A fireball twice her size came hurtling toward her. With a burst of strength, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and felt the scorching heat engulf her body before the impact struck. The collision forced her backward, her knees nearly buckling.

“They won't stop following us! They're going to catch us!” the Shielder gasped.

“Go! We're close to the sewers!” Art was performing the roles of Striker and Support at the same time. Although he couldn't create shields, he relied on the strength of his magic to block attacks.

After several minutes of intense running, the attacks gradually ceased, and the group believed they had lost their enemies in the dense forest. Panting, Sylvaine glanced over her shoulder and sighed in relief.

“Looks like we left them behind.”

“Don't let your guard down! This feels way too easy!” Art turned, keeping a close watch on their surroundings.

“I can't see anything else between the tre—!”

Before she could finish the sentence, an arrow tore through the air and struck the protective plate on the Archer's shoulder, knocking her off balance. The young woman fell with a dull thud among the foliage, but before her head could strike the trunk of a tree, a barrier of water rose to cushion the impact.

Art rushed toward her, worried, his heart pounding.

“Diana!”

“Is she okay?” the Shielder asked, her expression tense.

The Archer frowned and, with a soft groan, sat up.

“I'm fine! That arrow came from far away... They're still at a distance.” She accepted help getting back to her feet.

Sylvaine's gaze sharpened as she searched for any sign of the enemy. She clenched her jaw and gripped her shield tightly, then faced her companions.

“Go! I'll stay behind and slow them down.”

Diana's eyes widened. After a brief pause, she stepped forward.

“No one gets left behind.”

“We don't have time!” Art caught his friend by surprise. He truly startled her, a warning of what he was about to say. He pointed, showing them the hooded enemies approaching and closing off their path once again. His voice carried a spark of resolve: “Sylvaine is right.”

The young Striker had thought of a similar plan. However, if he told them every detail, his companions would disagree.

“I have an idea that might save us. Sylvaine, tell me you can use an enchantment...”

“I can... Air! But it drains my energy really fast.”

“We don't have a choice!” Art declared. He started running again to get into position, his companions following in single file.

“But what's the plan?” the Shielder asked.

“We're going to imitate the Cannon that launched us here... Diana jumps onto your shield, and you launch her. With the enchantment, it'll be easy...”

“A human launcher. Is that really going to work?…”

“Diana! Trust me!”

“Fine... Whatever!” Sylvaine said. She slowed her pace to create some distance. “Ventus Velox!” she recited.

The current of air around her lifted dry leaves and dust as the magic took shape. An aura of wind enveloped her body and doubled her speed. It pulsed like an invisible vortex, sending her hair whipping through the air.

Her boots barely touched the ground, a thin layer of air preventing contact. Each of her movements became a fleeting blur. She felt the power vibrating through her veins.

Sylvaine didn't hesitate: she shot toward Diana, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

“Go, Diana! I'll cover you!” Art slid to the side and raised an earthen barrier to hold back the attacks that had begun reaching them.

“AAAAHHGR!”

Sylvaine roared as she propelled herself forward. She met Diana in midair and launched her over the forest, toward the kingdom's sewers. She dropped to her knees, trying to catch her breath, and said:

“Now it's your turn!”

“No! It's yours!”

“What?” She blinked, confused.

“You're going first. I have a plan! Run toward me and jump, quick!”

The Shielder gritted her teeth, hesitated for an instant, then nodded.

“We'll be waiting for you in that filth!” she joked, accelerating again.

She kept up her pace, rapidly closing the distance. With one final burst, she bent her legs and jumped with all her strength; Art encased his arm in solid rock and propelled her with a powerful whirlwind of air. The Shielder disappeared among the trees of the dense forest.

“Argh!…”

He dropped to one knee, feeling his mana drain away like sand slipping through his fingers.

“Damn it...” He saw the enemies only a few meters away. Escaping without a fight was no longer an option. “At least they're sa—”

He stopped as a sudden stab of pain pierced his head, as though something invisible had sunk sharp claws into his skull. His knees weakened as a cutting shock radiated from the back of his neck to his forehead. Even breathing became difficult.

The young Mage brought a hand to his head, his fingers tensing against his skin as he tried to contain the overwhelming sensation. His breathing grew uneven, broken by a throbbing heat pulsing inside his mind, like living embers spreading across his temples. A distant hiss snaked through his ears, growing until it became a muffled roar.

For an instant, the world around him receded. The forest, the enemies so close, the ground beneath his feet, even the sound of his own breathing—everything distorted into an agonizing haze. A sharper jolt made him gasp, as though an electric current had surged through his nerves, and then came a voice. Low and sinuous, sliding through his thoughts like a cold shadow.

I need you! Unite them! the strange female voice echoed once again.

“My head...! What the hell, why now?!…”

Art leaned against a tree, trying to shake off the dizziness. The sound of footsteps intensified. When he raised his eyes, the encirclement was already complete.

A dozen hooded figures surrounded him, carrying the unconscious Oliver and Kenno.

“What do you want?” the young Mage asked. He studied the different colors of their hoods.

Some wore moss-green cloaks that blended into the darkness of the forest. Three of them, dressed in dark blue, stood with a firm posture that set them apart from the others. At the center of the group stood a single figure dressed in black, the one who emanated the most intimidating presence. The hooded figures didn't answer. They remained motionless, like voiceless shadows, surrounding him in oppressive silence. The only sound was the faint rustling of their garments in the cold forest breeze.

The way they held Oliver and Kenno said everything: their unconscious bodies were handled without the slightest care, nothing more than sacks of flesh to them. Arms hung limp, heads lolled to the sides, and one of the hooded figures tightened his grip on Kenno's hair, lifting his fallen head only to let it drop again.

“If you're not going to answer... I'll make you talk!” Art threatened, clenching his fists as sparks danced across his hands. He pulled the dagger from the metal band fastened around his waist, and in an instant, ravenous flames engulfed his arms. Heat rippled through the air, illuminating the shadowed faces of the hooded figures around him.

The enemies responded to the threat without saying a word. In one synchronized motion, they drew their weapons: equipment enhanced with advanced technology. Some wands glowed with magical circuitry designed to amplify their wielders' power; swords absorbed mana from the environment, ready to devour spells; reinforced gloves channeled the user's mana and strengthened the element being used. They wielded power that went beyond the traditional.

Art clenched his jaw. The numbers were unfair, but he wouldn't back down. With a step forward, he began the battle.

The first attack came too fast to follow. A whip of water snaked toward him, icy droplets striking his face. He twisted his body to soften the blow and, still in motion, gathered the water suspended around him. The liquid twisted, stretched, and a spear took shape in his hands. The projectile crossed the distance with a short whistle and buried itself in one of the enemies' shoulders.

The distance between them vanished. The fight became a tangle of footsteps, blades, and sparks. Art drove his hand into the ground, and spikes of rock erupted beneath the enemies' feet, breaking their formations and drawing short cries from them. Flames unfurled from his dagger and swept through the space ahead, forcing them to scatter.

The technological weapons began adapting to his rhythm. Strikes that had once created openings now met resistance; spells that should have pushed them back were absorbed or deflected. Art's breathing shortened. His movements lost precision.

A sword wrapped in flames passed close to his face and scorched his skin. He staggered, feeling the strength drain from his body.

A well-placed kick to his side sent him crashing to the ground. He tried to rise, but before he could react, the pressure of defeat closed in around him. The hooded figure with the wounded shoulder raised his sword, ready to deliver the final blow.

Something tore through the air above them.

Arrows cut through the darkness, piercing the ground around the enemies and drawing their attention away.

Amid the confusion, a silhouette descended from the highest branches with the precision of a predator. Kaela, the Leader of the Archer Squad and the one leading the mission, landed like a bolt of lightning, swinging her curved dagger in a swift strike that immediately disarmed one of the attackers.

Without hesitation, she slid backward and fired another arrow at close range, burying it in her opponent's leg.

“What are you waiting for? Retreat!” ordered a hoarse voice.

The next instant, a new enemy appeared in the distance. He wore a dark purple hood. He raised a hand as he walked away. The others immediately ceased their attacks and retreated.

Art panted as he watched the enemies disappear into the shadows of the forest. On the ground, the group's Swordsman and Support remained unconscious.

Art turned toward Kaela, his expression hard.

“Where the hell were you?!”

The Archer Leader swept her surroundings with a precise gaze. Then, once she was certain there were no more enemies, she lowered her bow. She took a deep breath before answering:

“I was stopped...” Her voice came out hoarse and unsteady. “They threatened me.”

Art frowned, waiting for further explanation. Kaela closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather the strength to continue. Her short black hair fluttered in the wind.

“My family was used against me.” Her fingers tightened around the bow. “They broke into my home and threatened my daughters, my husband... If I went on the mission, they would die.”

Art remained silent for a moment, trying to process what he had just heard.

“Then why did you come?” he asked, without taking his eyes off her.

“I sent a team I trust to rescue them. When they confirmed they were safe, I rushed here.” She sighed and met Art's gaze firmly.

To the young Striker, it was obvious that the Archer Leader was shaken. Expected behavior for a mother whose family had been threatened. He simply couldn't tell how much of it was true.

“I know I failed,” she continued. “If you want to turn me in to the Captain, I won't stop you.”

Art clenched his fists, looking away.

“I don't have time for this.” His voice came out harsher than he intended.

“Are the others okay?” she asked, expecting the worst.

“Take care of these two for now.” He pointed toward Oliver and Kenno. “I'm going after the ‘others.’ They're still near the sewers.”

“‘Near the sewers?’”

“It's a long story...”

“We'll talk later... Go! I have reinforcements on the way. I'll join you soon,” she ordered, her expression awkward.

Art took a deep breath, still feeling the weight of the battle in his body. But he knew he couldn't stop now.

With the young Mage already far away, the Archer Leader tried to bring her companions back to consciousness in the most “delicate” way she knew: firm slaps across the face.

Slap! Slap!

“Wake up, soldiers! Or would you rather be carried back to the base like sacks of potatoes?” she barked, rolling her eyes as she looked toward three warriors who had just landed nearby.

Oliver, his long blond hair disheveled, opened his eyes and blinked several times, still caught somewhere between sleep and reality. His head spun as though he'd had one drink too many.

“I see you're awake, Your Highness!” Kaela said, crossing her arms, ready to throw him right back into action.

When he saw the leader and the soldiers around him, his vision blurred once again.

“Urgh...” A weak groan escaped him before he fell backward and passed out again.

The Archer Leader sighed and smacked a hand against her forehead.