The dagger should have gone through.
Instead—
**Clang.**
A translucent wall of mana flared into existence between them, warping the air as Draven's blade scraped across it in a shrill scream of resistance. Sparks and distorted ripples spread across the barrier like cracks in glass; the blade skidded uselessly along its surface.
Draven's eyes widened fractionally.
"…A mana barrier?" he muttered, disbelief cutting through his focus.
He dragged his dagger along it again, leaving only shallow ripples.
*Tch. Since when?* His gaze flicked sharply to Kaela. *I know damn well you're not a mage.*
His crimson eyes narrowed, mind racing. *That wasn't hers.*
*Only mages can—*
Kaela stared at the barrier too—but only for a heartbeat.
She didn't question it. Didn't hesitate. Her instincts screamed louder than curiosity.
*If I don't treat this now… I'm dead.*
She stumbled back half a step, one hand clamped to her neck, blood slipping between her fingers. Her other hand dove into her pouch, movements rushed but practiced.
Empty.
Her fingers froze.
"…What?" she breathed.
She searched again—faster, rougher. Nothing.
Her eyes widened just slightly.
Before she could process it—
Draven's voice cut through the chaos, close, sharp, mocking.
"Looks like you finally caught up."
She snapped her gaze back to him.
He was smiling. Not wide. Not manic. Sharp.
He slammed his fist into the barrier.
**BOOM.**
The mana wall rippled violently, cracks of strain racing across its surface.
"Don't bother thinking too hard about it," Draven continued, teeth bared in a grin that held no humor. "Those healing potions you idiots found?"
He hit it again.
**BOOM.**
His eyes flicked briefly—meaningfully—to where Elliana was fighting Cedric.
"…There was only one left."
Kaela's blood ran cold.
**BOOM.**
Another punch—harder.
"And my mom already drank it."
Kaela's breath hitched.
Draven leaned in close, eyes burning through the barrier straight into her.
"So there's nothing left for you."
His fist slammed into the mana barrier again, sending a violent ripple across its surface. Kaela was forced back another step as the pressure pressed against her chest.
"And if bleeding out doesn't finish the job in time…" he growled, voice dropping low, lethal, "…just wait."
**BOOM.**
Another strike. The barrier flickered, lines of strain spiderwebbing across it.
"I'll finish it myself."
Kaela staggered back, hitting a broken tree trunk as the barrier shivered. Her vision blurred at the edges. Blood loss was catching up—fast.
Draven pulled his arm back, muscles coiling.
*I need to end this quickly,* he thought, jaw tightening.
*This barrier isn't hers. Which means—*
His gaze flicked briefly past her, toward the battlefield beyond.
*There's another one.*
A mage. And he's not weak.
*And if that mage intervenes directly—*
*Tch.*
Draven struck the barrier again, compressing his knuckles with intent.
**CRACK.**
The barrier screamed under the blow.
*I don't have time.*
Kaela pressed a trembling hand to her neck, blood soaking her fingers, vision already beginning to blur. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself upright.
Draven leaned in close, voice dropping low—meant only for her.
"Better pray this thing holds," he whispered.
"Because I don't plan on giving you time to bleed out."
The barrier flickered again.
Draven's fists **never paused**. Punch after punch slammed into the shimmering shield, each blow reverberating like a cannon shot. Sparks flew, the air shivering under the relentless assault. His muscles burned. His knuckles were raw and red, compressing with every strike, every ounce of power focused on a single goal.
Then—he glanced.
Movement at the edge of his vision: armored forms emerging from the trees. Knights, holy light glinting off their blades, stepping into the clearing, surrounding them.
"Damnit," he muttered under his breath, jaw tightening, crimson eyes flicking.
His gaze locked on **Elira**. Saintess. Staff glowing. Walking forward with purpose. Her eyes were steady, unwavering; her aura a burning, pure light that made the air shimmer.
"Commander," she called, voice ringing clear, "it looks like this demon has put you in a dangerous spot. Your life hangs by a thread—but do not worry. As a Saintess and Savant of Light, I will not let the Commander of the Empire fall to the likes of a demon."
She stretched her staff forward, light spilling from its tip, flowing toward Kaela.
Draven's eyebrows shot up. *What the hell is she yapping about now?* he thought, confused. But then his eyes followed the glow streaming from her staff—and **locked on Kaela**.
Her neck was glowing. Holy light poured over the wound, spreading like liquid fire, knitting torn flesh, sealing veins.
Draven's eyes widened. *Crap… that bitch is going to heal her… I can't let that happen.*
Without hesitation, he swung again. **Fist after fist**, sparks twisting with each strike, smashing into the barrier around Kaela. The holy light crackled in response, and a **faint crack** appeared along the barrier's surface.
Not waiting. Not thinking. **Relentless.**
Another punch. The crack widened. Sparks scattered like fireflies in the darkness.
Another. **Bigger. Faster.**
Draven gritted his teeth, muscles screaming. Sweat ran down his face, mingling with blood from scratches along his jaw. Tendrils coiled around his arms, compressing into lethal fists.
The crack on the barrier **spread rapidly**, spiderwebbing across the glowing shield. Each strike chipped away at the protective wall like a hammer against steel.
Draven's mind was single-focused: **if Kaela heals, everything collapses. I can't—won't—let that happen.**
He pulled back, readying another swing, and the forest trembled from the force of his blows, light clashing in violent harmony.
The barrier **shivered**, threatened by collapse—but Draven **didn't stop**. Not for a single heartbeat.
Draven's fist coiled, fingers wrapping tightly, ready to deliver the strike that would **shatter the barrier completely**. The cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Then—out of nowhere—blades **slashed toward him** from both sides. Instinct snapped his body into motion.
He twisted mid-air, shadows wrapping his legs to pivot as sparks erupted where steel barely missed him. Dirt and leaves flew from the impact. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing.
"Damn it… you two bastards," he muttered, voice low and harsh, teeth flashing as he assessed.
His eyes darted.
Two figures moved in perfect tandem.
The **first captain** came from the left, armored and precise, blade humming with controlled force.
From the right, the **second captain**, faster and more aggressive, eyes locked on him, striking with a deadly rhythm that forced him to retreat.
Draven's hands clenched around the dagger, shadows flaring instinctively as he **dodged, rolled, and twisted**. Every movement calculated. Every breath measured.
*Shit… they're coordinating.*