Lucas and his team glided through the shadows of Moth City's houses, their movements as silent as specters drifting through the night. Each step was deliberate, their boots barely whispering against the cobblestone streets. The air was thick with tension, the faint scent of rust and sweat mingling with the cool dampness of the evening. When stealth failed and confrontation became inevitable, it was time for blood to spill.
"Pfft… pfft… pfft…"
The razor-sharp edge of a sword sliced through a knight's throat, a crimson arc spraying into the darkness. Crossbow bolts, fired with lethal precision, punched through eye sockets and necks, dropping enemies before they could cry out. Freya and Ayesha, whose weapons favored brute force over finesse, held back, knowing that a single clash against armor would ring out like a bell in the quiet night, alerting every knight in the city.
"Huff… huff…"
Lucas and his team panted heavily, their breaths fogging in the chilly air. This was their third encounter with a patrol, each group ranging from seven to ten knights. The knights were skilled, their reactions honed by training, but they were no match for the War Wolves's ruthless efficiency. Each clash was over in moments, the bodies left crumpled in the shadows as the team pressed forward.
"Who's there?" A sharp shout shattered the silence as a patrol of over a dozen knights rounded a corner, their torches casting flickering light across the group. Their armor glinted ominously, and their hands were already reaching for their swords.
"Kill them. Push through!" Lucas's voice was a cold snarl as he flicked the blood from his sword. He charged forward, his eyes locking onto the loudest knight, the one barking orders. With a fluid thrust, his blade pierced the knight's chest, the sword's armor-breaking edge sliding through steel and flesh with horrifying ease. The knight's scream died in his throat as he collapsed.
Lucas's feet shifted, his body twisting with practiced grace. He yanked the blade free, letting the momentum carry it into a horizontal slash that severed another knight's throat in a spray of gore. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood, and the clatter of armor hitting the ground echoed in the narrow alley.
"Protect the young master!" Mina's cat tail flicked as she darted through the chaos, her movements a blur of feline agility. She weaved between the knights, her military knife flashing in the torchlight. Before one could react, her blade had already slit his throat, and she was gone, moving to the next. With a swift kick to another knight's waist, she sent him staggering, then launched into a backflip to dodge a slashing longsword. Her knife flew from her hand, embedding itself in a knight's face with a sickening thud. Landing lightly, she darted forward, retrieving her weapon from the corpse before it hit the ground and rushing to Lucas's side.
Freya, silent as ever, fought with a predator's focus. Her orange eyes narrowed, her wolf tail bristling as she swung her massive greatsword in wide, devastating arcs. She targeted necks, knowing a single clean blow could end a fight instantly. Even when a knight managed to parry, her second strike came faster, cleaving through armor and bone with relentless force. In the chaos, knights fell before they could comprehend the whirlwind of death bearing down on them.
"Ha!" Ayesha roared, her voice booming like thunder. She swung her two-meter-long Overlord Spear with terrifying strength, the weapon a blur of destruction. Anything it touched was maimed; anyone it struck was dead.
BANG! BANG! A knight captain raised his longsword to block, but Ayesha's spear smashed it in two, the force driving the weapon into his chest. His armor caved inward with a sickening crunch, blood spraying from his mouth as his eyes rolled back. He crumpled, lifeless, to the ground.
"Move!" Lucas shouted, shaking the blood from his sword. He strode forward, his team falling into step behind him. The element of surprise was gone—there was no point in hiding now. They broke into a sprint, their boots pounding the streets as they cut down any knight foolish enough to stand in their way.
"Swish! Swish! Swish!"
From the rooftops, steel-tipped arrows rained down, fired from the War Wolves's compound bows. The projectiles tore through armor like paper, each one claiming a life with surgical precision. The ranged support was a game-changer, far faster and more efficient than close-quarters combat. With the archers covering their advance and the team fighting at full strength, their pace quickened, the prison holding Elisa now tantalizingly close.
Meanwhile, inside the grim, stone-walled building where Elisa and the other elves were held, the air was heavy with despair and betrayal.
"Ugh, who could've imagined Bonnie was that kind of person? She fooled us all," One elf muttered, her voice thick with bitterness.
"I knew something was off from the start, but I never thought she'd knock me out with a club," Another growled, rubbing the back of her head.
"I was asleep when they stuffed me into a sack," A third elf said, her voice trembling with outrage.
"That wretched Bonnie even dared to deceive Miss Elisa. It's infuriating!" Another spat, her fists clenched.
Elisa managed a wry smile, listening to the chorus of grievances. The elves' stories varied, but the pattern was clear. While she and four others had been forcibly dragged here, the rest had been lured by Bonnie's cunning lies and tricks. The betrayal stung, but Elisa's focus was elsewhere. Her sharp ears twitched, catching faint sounds from beyond the walls.
"Wait… what's that noise?" She murmured, standing abruptly. She raised a hand, silencing the chattering elves. Straining to listen, she picked up distant shouts and the unmistakable clash of steel. Her emerald eyes widened with hope. "Battle cries!" She exclaimed. "Someone's out there—someone's come to rescue us!"
"Really?" The elves surged to their feet, their faces alight with desperate hope. They crowded around the door, peering through the narrow crack, but the darkness outside revealed nothing.
"Are our kin here to save us?" One whispered.
"Please, let them succeed. Oh, Goddess of Life, protect our people," Another prayed, her voice trembling.
The elves murmured prayers and hopes, their voices soft and fervent, not unlike human girls clinging to faith in moments of desperation. Their pleas for divine intervention felt hollow to Elisa, but she let them believe, her own heart pounding with anticipation.
"Is this the place?" A familiar voice cut through the night, stopping Elisa's breath. Her emerald eyes widened, staring at the door in disbelief. That voice—unmistakably Lord Lucas, the city lord of Sedona. Her mind reeled. Him? Here?
"My lord, this is it," Number Five's voice answered, breathless but certain.
"Cut the chains. Get them out," Lucas ordered, his voice sharp as he dispatched another knight with a flash of his sword. "Hurry—we're running out of time."
"Yes, sir!"
Clang! Clang! Number Five's sword hacked at the iron chains binding the door. It took seven fierce strikes to sever the links, the blade sparking with each blow. With a shove, he pushed the door open, revealing Elisa standing frozen, her expression a mix of shock and gratitude.
"Miss Elisa, the city lord has come for you," Number Five said, his tone urgent but steady. He thrust a wooden case into her hands. "This is a longbow. Move!" Without waiting, he turned back to the fight, his sword flashing as he rejoined the fray.
Elisa caught the case, her hands trembling as she glanced at the chaos outside. There, amidst the clashing steel and falling bodies, were Mina, Freya, and Ayesha, fighting with ferocious precision. And at the center was Lucas, no longer the refined, scholarly lord she knew but a warrior forged in blood and iron. The sight overwhelmed her. She'd never dared to dream that he, of all people, would risk everything to save her.
"What are you standing there for? Planning to spend the night here?" Lucas's voice snapped her out of her daze, his tone laced with exasperation as he shot her a glance, rolling his eyes. "Move it—we're retreating!"
"Yes, lord!" Elisa replied, her voice firm despite the whirlwind of emotions in her chest. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, setting the case down and opening it. Inside was a sleek, heavy compound bow, its craftsmanship unlike anything she'd seen. A quiver of steel-tipped arrows accompanied it, which she strapped to her waist. Turning to the other elves, she shouted, "Everyone, get ready! A great man has come to save us. Follow them, and we'll escape Moth City together!"
"Yes!" The elves rallied behind her, their fear giving way to determination as they moved toward Lucas's group.
"Swish! Swish!" Elisa drew the bow, loosing an arrow with practiced ease. The projectile streaked through the air, and she gasped, her breath catching as it punched clean through a knight's armor. Her heart raced as she stared at the bow in her hands, its power astonishing. What kind of weapon was this? The knights' steel plates, designed to deflect even the sharpest blades, were like parchment before these arrows.
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