"Who dares!?" Reaver roared, his voice echoing across the courtyard like a war drum. His clawed hand pressed against his scorched flank, molten trails dripping from the rent armor. The surrounding demons turned toward the newcomers, their snarls rising in chorus, while the exhausted guards seized the brief lull to fall back behind the barricades, gasping for air after the relentless fighting.
Bryanard pushed himself up from the rubble with a pained grunt, snatching his warhammer and leaping back toward the defensive line. His breathing was heavy, armor dented and cracked from Reaver's grip. Calvinel hurried over, placing a steadying hand on the old knight's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Bryanard shook his head, raising a trembling hand to stop him. "No… but I'll recover. Just need to catch my breath."
Calvinel nodded, stepping forward beside him. The guard commander moved up as well, his chainsaw sword resting on his shoulder, eyes fixed on the four figures that had appeared to help them.
"We dare, clearly. Why do you even ask? It's redundant," Annabel said flatly, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Wha—what she said!" Clara added hastily, pointing across the courtyard toward the sorceress. "We dared!"
Reaver's gaze lingered on them for a heartbeat before its lips peeled back in a snarl. Its claw pointed toward Clara and Xain. "Kill them!" it bellowed, before charging at Annabel and Edluar himself, the ground quaking beneath its steps.
The lesser demons surged forward in a wave, dozens of them howling as they descended on Xain and Clara.
"Alright, Clara," Xain said, fists rising as adrenaline hammered in his chest. "Now would be a great time to prove how strong you are!"
"O-okay!" she stammered, forcing her nerves down. Her fiery bow rippled like liquid light, reshaping itself into a whip that burst into life with a snap. She lashed it forward—once, twice, three times—the air erupting into torrents of flame. The first strike engulfed a cluster of imps, reducing them to ash in seconds. The next two sweeps burned through another wave, the ground left glowing where the fire licked past. Nearly a third of their attackers fell before they even reached her.
But the rest pressed on, shrieking, weapons raised. As the first leapt at her, the whip dissolved and reformed into a staff, its length blazing like molten iron. Xain ducked aside as a sword sliced toward his neck, countering with a sharp kick that sent the imp sprawling back into Clara's reach. She swung her staff in a smooth arc, the impact igniting the creature midair before it even hit the ground.
A club came down toward her shoulder—she intercepted it with her staff, the weapon's heat melting the metal on contact. She pivoted and drove the other end through the attacker's chest, reducing it to a burst of flame and ash.
"Wow—okay, you are strong," Xain said, exhaling sharply as he deflected a blow with his forearm. "The fire doesn't exactly bring back pleasant memories, but I'm glad you've got it."
"Thanks? I think?" Clara replied, ducking as a sharaykthun lunged. She brought her staff up and spun it, cleaving through the serpentlike demon in one motion, its body collapsing into a molten heap.
Xain stepped in to intercept a drakorath's slash, his angelic armor ringing as it negated the strike completely. Clara took the opening—her staff flared and struck across the drakorath's face, the head vanishing in a burst of fire.
"Yeah," Xain said, catching his breath as he glanced over his shoulder. "I'll keep anything from hitting you from behind. You just focus on burning them down."
"Okay!" Clara answered, determination cutting through her fear. She planted her feet, staff blazing brighter as the next wave of demons came screaming toward them.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the battlefield, the fight was far more one-sided. As Reaver lunged toward them, Annabel swept her hand through the air, unleashing a frigid mist that rolled forward in a low, creeping wave. Everything it touched froze solid—the fractured cobblestones, the twisted railings, and finally, Reaver's massive lower legs. The ice crawled upward in seconds, locking the towering drakorath in place mid-charge. The drakorath's eyes widened just as Annabel snapped her fingers, releasing a sharp boom of thunder that rippled through the frost. The sound fractured the ice in an instant, detonating through Reaver's limbs with a piercing, echoing crack. The frozen legs exploded apart, sending shards scattering through the air like glass. The massive demon crashed onto the road, its roar shaking the walls as its claws tore deep furrows in the stone, molten blood hissing against the ice that still clung to it.
Calvinel blinked, his breath misting in the cold air. "Boy oh boy… we're at completely different levels with our ice affinities, aren't we?" he muttered, equal parts impressed and disheartened. Beside him, the guard commander let out a sharp exhale, his voice tinged with awe. "She did that with a gesture. If we had someone like her in the city guard, this invasion would've ended before it started." Bryanard, still leaning against his warhammer, gave a quiet grunt. "Looks like I underestimated her—even after the tournament," he admitted, his tone weary but honest.
Reaver glared up at Annabel, steam hissing from its maw where molten heat met lingering frost. The ground trembled under its weight as it tried to rise, snarling through the pain. "I'll kill you, filthy sorceress! Fight properly!" it bellowed. Annabel tilted her head slightly, her expression calm, almost disinterested. "Why would I fight properly against you?" she said evenly. She raised her hand once more, and in the blink of an eye, a blinding flash erupted from her fingertips. The bolt struck Reaver's head, and in an instant, it was gone—obliterated in a burst of crackling lightning and scattering frost. The drakorath's body slumped forward, lifeless, the glow fading from its molten wounds as thunder rolled across the silent street. The battle for the guard barracks was over.