The crackling embers of a fading fire glimmered in the courtyard of the Paladin Base, where the silence of the day was broken only by the faint echo of a skirmish that had taken place moments earlier between Brea and Hundra—an encounter too brief and isolated to call a true battle.
Inside the grand tent, Brea stumbled back, panting heavily, her arm twitching slightly as the bracelet continued to hum with latent power. The three sigils orbited slowly around her wrist—blue, red, and yellow—each one glowing with a strange intensity.
Hundra, towering and grim like a statue hewn from dark stone, stood motionless at the edge of the room. His heavy boots creaked against the wooden floor as he slowly leaned down to pick up a sword from a collapsed weapon rack—one of the few things disturbed during the brief skirmish with Brea.
The weapon's blade caught the faint light, casting a sharp reflection of Brea's face—her wide, terrified eyes clashing with the flicker of rebellious defiance that refused to be extinguished. Hundra studied her through the steel's shimmer, his expression carved from ice, his lips curling into the faintest, mocking smirk. When he finally spoke, his voice rolled out deep and slow, carrying a quiet thunder, threaded with dark amusement and cruel certainty.
"I shall end your life now, girl. You've meddled far too long."
He marched forward, slow and deliberate.
Brea, breathing erratically, glanced down at the bracelet. The sigils had subtle differences. The blue one shimmered like water, the red one pulsed like fire, and the yellow one crackled with a faint electric buzz. She closed her eyes, listening for anything—a whisper, a guidance.
Then it came: a voice, not her own, low and ancient.
"Quas."
Her eyes snapped open. A jolt of lightning surged from her wrist, arcing through the air toward Hundra. But the Paladin Captain twisted aside effortlessly, his experience allowing him to dodge with ease.
"Predictable," he sneered.
Brea grit her teeth, then observed the bracelet again. The blue sigil now gleamed.
"Wex," the bracelet whispered.
A gush of water blasted from her palm. It slammed into Hundra, soaking him entirely and knocking him a few paces back. But he barely staggered.
Hundra wiped water from his face. "You still don't know how to use that... thing."
He roared, charging forward, blade raised high.
Brea turned and sprinted, skidding around a marble column. The red sigil now pulsed brightly. She didn't hesitate.
"Exort!"
A stream of fire erupted from her palm and engulfed Hundra. Flames danced over his body, forcing him to roll on the ground, screaming and cursing.
Brea took a deep breath, watching as the sigils vanished one by one, fading into nothingness.
"Quas... lightning. Wex... water. Exort... fire. After each use, they vanish and take time to return," she murmured.
Hundra staggered upright, smoke rising from his body. His fury boiled.
"Enough myumbling!"
He dashed forward again, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Brea dropped low, the blade cutting the air above her head. She fired a water blast upward, sending Hundra skidding back once more.
"Now that you're wet..."
She didn't finish her sentence. Her hand surged forward.
"Quas!"
A bolt of lightning shot from her wrist and struck Hundra directly. His body convulsed violently, limbs twitching, eyes wide. Smoke billowed from his body as he fell, unconscious and seared.
Brea stood over him, wide-eyed and trembling. "I... I did that..."
Her knees buckled. She dropped to the floor, gasping.
"It consumes my strength."
She looked toward the exit, then back at Hundra.
"I should burn this place to the ground," she muttered, dragging herself up on shaking legs.
But then—
""HALT!"
Three Paladin guards burst into the tent, their boots thudding against the wooden floor. Their eyes went wide at the sight of Hundra's scorched and motionless body sprawled across the ground.
"Captain Hundra is down!"
Brea raised her trembling arms. Her voice, though wavering, held a razor-sharp edge. "Yes, he is. And if any of you try something foolish—you'll be next."
The guards hesitated, stunned by the sight and the unexpected ferocity in Brea's tone. But one of them, younger and filled with blind loyalty, let out a furious cry and charged, sword drawn.
"You'll pay for this, woman!"
Brea's limbs screamed in protest as she summoned the last of her strength. Just before the guard reached her, she thrust her arm forward and released a desperate blast of flame. It detonated in front of him like a small sun, sending him flying backward with a scream as he crashed into the canvas wall.
"Who's next?!" Brea shouted, firelight flickering in her wide, exhausted eyes.
The remaining two Paladins froze. They looked at each other, the bravado in their faces fading. Without a word, they turned and fled the tent, shouting for reinforcements as they disappeared into the distance.
Brea's legs gave out. She collapsed, gasping for breath, her strength entirely drained.
"I... I can't... do this anymore..." she whispered, the edges of her vision darkening like ink in water.
The world swayed, tilting as if it too were about to fall.
Ash and blood mixed in the dirt as Luna Ashkins clashed with the few remaining Gresian mobs. Arthur found himself face-to-face with Killi, a tall warrior with a shield bearing the emblem of the Lunas.
"KILLI!" Arthur roared. "Your tyranny ends today! The people of Gursh will be free!"
Killi smirked. "Brave words, Arthur. But words don't win wars."
Arthur loosed an arrow. Killi blocked it easily with his shield, marching forward. More arrows followed, but he parried each with mechanical precision.
When close enough, Killi swung. Arthur ducked, using his bow like a staff to deflect and strike back.
They danced a deadly ballet. Arthur's agility and Killi's brute strength clashed again and again. Arrows zipped from inches away. Killi deflected them, his sword lashing in wide arcs. Arthur rolled beneath a slash, spinning and kicking off Killi's shield to flip backward.
Killi stabbed. Arthur caught it between his bow and bracer, twisted, and punched Killi in the face. Killi reeled back but countered with a backhanded blow that sent Arthur sprawling.
They both stood, breathing hard.
Arthur spat blood. "You'll pay for what you did to John."
Killi laughed coldly. "John was a fool. Dreaming of peace? In a world ruled by chaos? My sister, Killa, sees clearly. She will unite all Ashkins and cleanse Fiejin of the Nasyonalistas."
Arthur sneered. "You can't even hold Gresia. Fiejin? You're delusional."
Killi's face darkened. "Take that back."
Then—
"ZEHAHAHAHA!"
A monstrous laugh echoed across the battlefield. Ted "Knox" Brundy emerged, Killa's limp body thrown over his shoulder. He dropped her like trash.
"KILLA!" Killi shrieked. "What have you done?!"
Ted chuckled. "You must be Killi. Brother of this weakling."
Blinded by rage and grief at the sight of his sister's crumpled form, Killi let out a primal roar and charged forward like a bull unleashed, his sword raised high, his shield forgotten.
But before he could close the distance, Ted merely raised a hand with casual indifference. With a flick of his fingers, a gravitational force emanated from his body—his power, Attract. Mid-sprint, Killi's body jerked violently to the side, his momentum stolen in an instant.
Invisible energy gripped him and lifted him bodily into the air, his feet dangling as he clawed at his throat, which was now firmly clenched in Ted's unrelenting grip. Killi's eyes bulged in shock and fury, but he was utterly helpless, caught like an insect in a jar by the overwhelming force of a Warlord.
Arthur paled. "You... you're Ted Brundy. One of the Warlords."
Ted turned, eyes gleaming. "Ah, Arthur of the Helos. Shame about John. You're worth quite a bounty too."
Arthur tried to flee, but Ted's arm shot out, pulling him with his power and snatching him by the throat. It seems unseen force forced him to be yanked towards to Ted.
"Let... go...!" Arthur choked.
Ted turned back to Killi, who had passed out. With a smirk, he slammed Arthur into the earth. Blood splattered.
"ZEHAHAHA! Power... it never gets old."
From the side, Reu appeared.
He froze. Killa, wounded but now conscious, crawled toward her brother. Ted snatched Killi's sword and without warning, drove it through her back.
Killa screamed once.
Reu's voice cracked. "OLD MAN! WHY?!"
Ted growled. "Shut up, boy. You live only because we shared an ale. Next time, no mercy."
Reu was rooted, paralyzed by sheer terror.
Ted lifted the three bodies effortlessly. As he walked away, he paused.
"Be strong, boy. The next time we meet, I'll be collecting your chief's head."
Reu lunged, but Ted repels him and slammed him into rubble.
Darkness consumed Reu.
At the north passage, Toby stood alone against a line of advancing Paladins. Among them, Runy Figets stepped forward, tall and elegant, his eyes sharp.
"Step aside, boy," Runy said. "This is no place for you."
Toby clenched his fists. "I won't let you interfere with Gursh mobs."
Runy sighed. "We aim to restore order. Now move."
Toby stood his ground.
"Paladins! Do not interfere. This child is mine."
He removed his cape, revealing a slim but imposing physique.
"I hate violence, but consider this your lesson."
Toby braced himself. "Then bring it."