The Pendragon Knights
"Then, how does that book work? It seems interesting," asked Gema with total calm.
Now that only one man remained near her, she seemed much more relaxed; even her voice sounded friendly.
That friendliness caught Sally by surprise, but she replied with a calm smile.
"In fact, it's a protection against thieves. Depending on the intention with which someone touches the book, a curse activates in proportion to their thoughts. If they do it with good intentions, they'll only feel a slight electric tingling; but if they touch it with greed while pretending to return it... the curse will force them to tell the truth. Luckily, that's one of the softer ones."
Her tone was serene, though the message itself was enough to make anyone uneasy.
"And what if they don't want to return it?" asked Gema with a slight, almost amused smile.
"I don't know, and I'd rather not find out anytime soon," admitted Sally, shaking her head. Deep down, she felt that if anyone crossed that line, the result could be fatal.
Perhaps she should stop leaving it lying around. At home, no one touched it—not even her children, who were immune to the curse but well-behaved. Not like a certain foolish wizard named Lockhart.
"And what will happen to him?" Sally asked then, a bit nervous.
Gema let out a small chuckle before answering.
"Not much. He'll suffer a little and then be expelled. He didn't put anyone in real danger, though he had the intention. Dorien will make sure he doesn't forget his mistake; he'll carve his sin into his flesh and send notice to all the knights to keep watch. Maybe he'll even spread his name among the mages, just to ruin his reputation."
Sally closed her eyes with a sigh.
If that was "not much," she preferred not to imagine what "a lot" meant to them.
The three stepped out through the main door, but suddenly Adrien stopped.
His gaze hardened, fixed on a dark alley across the street.
Gema lifted her eyes to the sky, mirroring his tense expression.
Sally was about to ask what was happening when Adrien raised a hand, signaling her to stay still.
"Use a defensive spell and stay behind," he said quietly, lowering his hand toward the hilt of his sword.
Gema did the same without saying a word.
"Without the armor, you can't let any spell hit you," warned Gema, her tone firm.
"I know," replied Adrien, his voice cold.
Then, a red flash burst from the alley and shot straight at him.
Adrien drew his sword in an instant; the blade traced a shining arc and split the spell in half.
The runes engraved along its edge began to glow, absorbing the magical energy until the light vanished.
That attack was only the beginning.
Dozens of spells of different colors erupted from the darkness.
Fireballs, water blasts, and lightning bolts crisscrossed the air, illuminating the street like a storm of raw mana.
Adrien and Gema moved with perfect precision, cutting through and deflecting every spell that came their way.
The explosions shook the surrounding walls; fragments of stone and wood rained down as the deflected spells struck nearby buildings.
Behind them, Sally conjured a magical shield that enveloped her completely.
Even so, her breathing trembled; the ground vibrated beneath her feet with every impact.
From the streets and rooftops, witches and wizards appeared one after another, attacking without pause.
Some descended from the sky on flying brooms, hurling spells in quick succession.
A witch raised her wand and shouted,
"Fiendfyre!"
From the tip burst a torrent of fire that took the form of a roaring dragon.
The creature's flaming wings spread wide, melting the air as it dived toward them.
Adrien frowned.
He stopped cutting spells and, in a movement so fast that Sally barely saw it, grabbed her by the waist and legs, lifting her into his arms like a princess.
Gema covered their rear, blocking an ice projectile while Adrien sprinted to the side.
With a powerful leap, he smashed through a window; the glass shattered into a thousand pieces as they fell inside, just as the fiery dragon collided with the façade, engulfing the entrance in crimson flames.
Sally covered her head as the roar of fire merged with the thunder of heavy footsteps.
Outside, the clatter of armor echoed—the other knights were arriving.
A wizard burst through the same window, wand raised.
He never got the chance to cast his spell.
Gema, who had stayed to guard the entrance, pierced his chest with a single strike.
Blood splattered across the floor, and as she turned her head, she narrowly dodged another beam that hissed past her, hitting a nearby cabinet beside Sally and melting it as if drenched in acid.
Bang.
The door was blown open.
Luther entered in full armor, shield raised and sword drawn.
"Put your armor on!" he shouted, advancing without hesitation.
He crashed through the wall, his steel-clad body unstoppable, and when he reached the window, he drove his shield into the ground.
"Protection!"
Golden runes flared across the metal, spreading a luminous barrier around the mansion.
Other knights appeared at different flanks, repeating the gesture.
Soon, a golden dome began to form, shielding the property from the magical bombardment outside.
In the sky, Mark flew sideways on his broom, tossing bottles that fell among the flames.
As they burst, they released silvery bubbles that absorbed the fire, extinguishing it in shimmering waves.
The spells kept striking, but now they bounced harmlessly off the golden shield.
Even so, several wizards tried to dive in from above, attacking the knights who stood firm, holding the line until the defense was complete.
The battle lit up the entire night.
Dorien dropped from the second floor in a burst of darkness.
His armor, completely black, gleamed with metallic reflections under the fiery sky.
He held a sword in each hand.
The moment he landed, a wizard flying nearby didn't even have time to scream—Dorien sliced him cleanly in two.
The lower half, still astride the broom, served as a foothold; he stepped on it with precision and launched himself toward another enemy in the air.
The second wizard froze in terror at the sight of a man leaping like that, tried to flee, but Dorien fell upon him in a deadly arc, cleaving both broom and body in a single strike.
"Get me up!" shouted Dorien as he fell with no support, searching for his companion with his eyes.
Mark, who was flying over the battlefield on his broom, quickly moved his staff and pointed it toward the ground. A circle of light formed just beneath Dorien, transforming into a magical platform that propelled him back into the sky. The moment he touched its surface, the knight shot upward with brutal speed, straight toward the cluster of wizards still floating among the smoke.
Both swords began to glow in unison. Each time one moved, a trail of blood hung suspended in the air. Dorien leapt from broom to broom, using the falling bodies as fleeting steps until the sky turned red with muffled screams.
Arthur, from the ground, approached the spot where Sally was standing. His gaze was stern but showed no urgency to enter the fight. Most of the knights held defensive positions around the mansion, maintaining the magical barrier while Dorien continued his relentless assault.
It was then that Adrien and Gema finally emerged from inside, both now wearing their armor.
Adrien's was the same as always: solid, without a helmet, but radiating power.
Gema's, on the other hand, was more ornate, covered in floral engravings and flowing with a rose-colored cape behind her. In one hand she held a short sword, and in the other… a great white steel bow, with a golden quiver of small arrows at her waist.
Adrien unsheathed a new sword—this time a colossal two-handed blade. The runes engraved across his armor lit up, bathing him in a golden radiance that made the very air tremble.
Meanwhile, Gema drew an arrow that began to grow as soon as she placed it on the bow. She pulled the string back with superhuman strength and aimed toward the sky.
When she released, the arrow multiplied in midair, splitting into hundreds of projectiles that fell like a brilliant rain upon the wizards still fighting above. The roar of the impact was deafening.
Dorien descended among the smoking remains, leaving a trail of destruction behind him.
"We're moving out!" shouted Adrien, raising his massive sword.
Luther, who was holding the main shield beside another knight, nodded firmly. Both adjusted their positions, and the golden wall opened right in the center, creating a gap for Adrien and Dorien to advance.
A rain of spells immediately fell upon them.
But the knights didn't even bother to dodge. The explosions engulfed their bodies without causing harm; the magical energy was absorbed by their armor, turning into a living glow that surrounded them like celestial fire.
Adrien launched forward with a leap so powerful that the ground cracked beneath his feet. The runes on his boots flared with light.
He landed among the enemies and struck the ground with both hands gripping his sword. The impact made the entire street quake. A wave of energy exploded around him; debris shot in every direction, and several wizards were thrown into the air.
Some managed to raise emergency shields; others weren't so lucky.
Dorien joined the slaughter. No longer having to fight in the air, his speed became overwhelming. He moved among the fire's remnants like a swift shadow, cutting through everything in his path.
Adrien was raw strength and explosive power; Dorien, agility and lethal precision.
The wizards tried to defend themselves with magical barriers, but their defenses were shattered with ease. In seconds, the ground turned into a field drenched in blood.
From the safety of her cover, Sally watched in shock. The violence was brutal yet precise; there was no chaos—only perfection in every movement.
From above, Gema fired another arrow. It split into a second rain that swept across the skies, leaving no flying wizard alive.
Arthur noticed Sally's expression and gave her a faint smile.
"Impressive, isn't it?" he said in a deep voice. "That's the bow of Sir Tristan. Adrien's sword comes from Sir Gawain. And Dorien's blades… they're the combined legacy of Sir Lancelot du Lac and Sir Galahad."
His eyes gleamed with respect.
"We all inherit the armor of our ancestors, but the weapons… those are different. Each was forged with enchantments even mages envy. And when combined with our armor, they become sets worthy of the legendary knights themselves. Without them, we're just warriors; with them, we embody their legends."
"But… how is that possible? Knights don't use magic," murmured Sally, surprised.
Arthur nodded slowly.
"They're special cases. It's said they were forged by Merlin himself… though others claim a goddess descended from the heavens and granted these weapons to the sacred knights to protect her believers."
A faint smile crossed his face as he watched the battlefield.
"The Pendragon Knights exist to guard those relics. In the wrong hands, even mages would be destroyed. And the broken sword of the hero… that was the most powerful of them all, capable of surpassing every legendary weapon combined. But when it shattered, it lost its power. That's why we swore to protect what remains. It's our duty—and our honor."
Despite his youth, Arthur spoke with the gravity of a veteran; his voice carried the weight of history itself.
Meanwhile, Sally lifted her gaze. The battlefield was a vision of hell. Hundreds of wizards and witches still fought desperately, yet none could stand against the two knights. The golden barrier finished sealing itself, and Gema approached calmly, watching the massacre her comrades unleashed with chilling precision.
"Retreat!" shouted a wizard, his voice breaking with panic as he saw the blood dripping down the blackened armor of Adrien and Dorien.
One by one, the spellcasters fled in all directions, abandoning the fight.
Adrien and Dorien didn't even bother to pursue them.
They walked together back toward the mansion, their armor covered in fire, smoke, and blood.
The golden shield opened just enough to let them pass… and closed behind them in absolute silence.
"I don't know if those accomplices came to rescue the old man… or just to silence him," said Adrien with a hard look as he cleaned his sword. "Either way, we have to move fast. We need to extract everything he knows before anyone else gets the chance."
Sally nodded, taking a deep breath. The tension in the air was still heavy; the scent of dust, smoke, and burned magic lingered everywhere.
From above, Mark descended, floating within the perimeter of the barrier, his staff resting on one shoulder and a satisfied smile on his face.
"What would you all do without me, huh? You'd probably be roasted by now," he said in a smug tone, waiting for praise that never came.
Adrien ignored him completely, Gema walked past without even glancing at him, and Dorien simply returned to his post on watch.
Mark let out a frustrated sigh, spun his staff in the air, and lifted off again, patrolling the area with a hint of irritation.
Several kilometers away, in a half-collapsed building, a man was watching the scene through a dusty window.
A magical telescope-like device trembled in his hands. His face was so pale he barely looked human.
"No… no, no… damn old man. Why didn't you just die? If they reach me… I'm finished," he muttered in a trembling voice.
It was Lucius Malfoy.
The true culprit behind the theft.
He had escaped from Azkaban with the stolen sword and, believing the old man would die there, had left him behind.
He thought the dementors would take care of the rest.
But now, seeing the chaos from afar, he realized his mistake.
"Idiot… I should've finished him myself," he growled, clenching his teeth. A cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he watched the knights walking away with steady, disciplined steps.
Then, through the smoke, he saw Sally.
She was walking beside Adrien and Gema—two of the most terrifying figures he had seen fight that day.
"That woman again… it can't be…" he whispered, his breathing turning erratic as he gripped the telescope with anger and hatred.
Rapidly, plans began to form in his mind.
"I have to warn them. Right now."
He turned sharply and vanished with a dry crack, leaving behind only a faint trace of scorched air.
For a few seconds, silence reclaimed the area.
At the destroyed entrance of the mansion, Dorien stood still, staring in the same direction Malfoy had fled.
A calm smile curved his lips, though his eyes remained empty—cold as steel.
The wind carried away the last glowing embers of the battle, and in that moment, it was clear that the hunt had only just begun.