Ember perched near the flames, wings half-folded, eyes glimmering gold in the light. Serathis sat beside her, methodically sharpening his greatsword, each scrape ringing steady and calm.
Karl crouched near the edge of the firelight, tracing the lines of a broken map with his finger. He watched the treeline for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "It's been an hour since the barrier fell," he said quietly. "Still no movement from Veythar or the wild beasts."
Ember chirped low, her gaze fixed on the dark treeline. Serathis raised his gaze, calm but alert, his voice even. "He's waiting for sky to turn dark."
Karl's eyes narrowed. "Then we'll respond first."
Karl stood, cloak rippling in the sun light. "Ember. Serathis. Time for a storm raid—same strategy, strike fast and hard, then disappear before the enemy could react, but this time your target is their base.
Ember's feathers rippled in response, her body tensing with readiness. Serathis rose in one smooth motion, greatsword resting across his shoulder.
"Understood," he said.
Karl nodded. "Their base lies among tall trees, so no need to directly attack them. launch your strikes from above the trees, be swift and don't stay for long. You just have to bring chaos there and raise tension.
In seconds, they moved—Ember leapt skyward, wings slicing through the twilight. Serathis vaulted onto her back as they disappeared into the fading horizon.
Karl stood at the edge of the clearing, the firelight flickering against his face as he watched them ascend. The world seemed to still for a heartbeat. Then time stretched—seconds into minutes—as the rising sun burned gold across the forest canopy.
A distant gust stirred the treetops. Then another.
Above the clouds, Ember was a streak of light and fury. Arrows and bursts of magic flashed from below, chasing her silhouette through the haze. Serathis lifted his greatsword, its edge catching the sun as he signaled their descent.
They dove.
Wind screamed. Ember's wings flared wide, and a storm of razor-edged wind blades tore through the treeline below.
Leaves and bark exploded outward, the forest shuddering beneath the strike. Smoke curled upward, mingled with the scent of scorched sap and earth.
When the winds calmed, the devastation lay clear—a wide scar cut through the forest canopy. Trees stood splintered and torn, their trunks gashed as though struck by invisible claws.
A faint haze of dust and ash drifted where the sunlight broke through the torn branches.
Moments later, Ember descended from the clouds, her landing shaking the ground. Serathis dropped from her back, his armor streaked with soot and blood, his expression grim.
"The forest was too dense," Serathis said grimly. "Our strikes couldn't pierce their ranks. We failed to harm their troops."
Karl placed a hand on Ember's feathers, channeling a gentle glow of healing light. Small burns vanished beneath his touch. Then he turned to Serathis and did the same.
"Good work," Karl said softly. "You both did more than enough. Rest now."
Ember lowered her head in quiet acknowledgment. Serathis gave a small nod before moving to sit near the fire once more.
Karl looked out toward the dark line of the horizon where the enemy once stood. The night wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of smoke and fading battlefields.
Somewhere deep in the forest, a roar echoed—sharp, sudden, and alive beneath the glowing sun. Karl's eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon as he exhaled slowly.
"The storm's not over," he muttered. "It's only waiting to rise again."
Two hours later, the forest had grown darker, shadows stretching long across the moss-covered floor. The air smelled of damp earth and splintered wood,
"Ember. Serathis. It's time for second Storm raid to their camp," Karl commanded, his voice calm but edged with steel. "Same order: strike fast, strike hard and quickly leave.
Ember's feathers bristled with anticipation, her golden eyes gleaming with resolve. Serathis rose, sliding his greatsword across his shoulder, the silver gleaming faintly in the dying sunlight.
Without another word, they launched into the air, leaping into the twilight sky together.
The forest canopy closed around them like a living wall of green. The smell of moss and damp earth filled the air, shadows deepening with the fading light. Ember's wings cut through the tangled branches with grace and speed, Serathis clinging tightly, senses honed and alert.
Suddenly—an arrow whistled past, sharp and deadly.
"Above!" Serathis shouted, twisting his greatsword in a protective arc. Golden energy flared outward, as Warden's Oath ignited.
Arrows struck the shimmering aura and ricocheted harmlessly, sparks scattering across the leaves.
Ember let out a piercing cry, pivoting sharply. She surged forward in a dive, releasing her signature skill, Wrath of the Storm.
A cyclone of wind and slicing air erupted from her, tearing through the dense forest. Trees splintered, leaves rained down, and a wide clearing formed where the canopy had once been impenetrable.
Below, Veythar's soldiers scrambled in panic. Spears shattered, shields flew from trembling hands, and confusion tore through the ranks.
Every line was disrupted; the forest itself became a weapon in Ember's control, forcing the enemy into exposed positions.
Serathis moved with lethal precision, every swing of his rune-etched blade cleaving through the nearest soldiers. Each strike forced Veythar's Bronze I and II fighters backward, opening space for Ember to maneuver above.
Harrek and Borgas charged forward trying to reach Serathis—but his Unyielding Presence radiated across the newly formed clearing, instilling dread in weaker troops while amplifying Ember's swiftness and control above.
Ambush seems perfect Yet Serathis sensed something was wrong. The usual roar of leadership, the commanding presence of Veythar at the front, was absent. Bronze III and II fighters reacted, yes— but there was no sign of their lord.
Serathis narrowed his eyes, scanning the open space with a sharp focus that only a veteran warrior could manage.
"Strange," he muttered. "He should be here.
Above, Ember let out a sharp screech, slicing the wind across the remaining lines and with that they vanished into the treetops, shadows blending with the darkening forest, leaving behind only the sound of wind and the broken, quiet chaos of the clearing.
When the wind finally died, the clearing lay bare. The dense forest had been carved open by storm and steel. Veythar's army stood broken and unsure. Some tried to line up again.
Others simply stared at the empty space where friends had fallen.
Karl watched the horizon from the Sanctuary edge. The twilight deepened, shadows long across the land. His mind raced, anticipating the enemy's next move.
Sylus and Veyra has just emerged from the treeline. Their faces were tense, confusion clouding their eyes. As a sharp gust cut through the silence.
Ember returned first, her wings streaked with soot, eyes glowing gold even in the fading light. Serathis followed soon after, landing heavily beside her, his silver armor scarred but unbroken.
"Veythar isn't there," Sylus reported, breath short. "We didn't see him after the first raid. There are about thirty people around the base—sixteen trained fighters, the rest look like workers or unarmed support."
Karl's expression hardened. He placed a hand over Ember's wing, feeling the warmth of her pulse beneath his palm.
"He's gone," Karl murmured. "He might have returned to his world…he is going to bring in more reinforcements, if my guess is correct."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Karl's tone shifted—calm, sharp, decisive.
"Then we strike before he comes back."
He turned to his people, considering their numbers carefully. They had eighteen fighters ready, not counting himself, Liora, and Lysa, their beast tamer.
Advantage lay in their favor—but advantage alone was never enough. "We can't waste time. Prepare immediately," he murmured, "we strike as if every step is life or death and immediately before Lord Veythar returns."
The command spread through the Sanctuary like fire catching dry leaves.
Non-combatants climbed into the trees, vanishing among the branches to act as lookouts and defender of sanctuary in their absence. Scouts like Sylus and Veyra slipped back into the shadows, keeping eyes on enemy movement.
The rest sharpened blades checked armor and ran through battle drills under Dreal's strict command.