The sudden Fireball attack ripped through the night's calm. A thunderous boom and a wave of heat exploded behind them, declaring their stealth a complete failure. Corbin felt adrenaline surge instantly, his body instinctively obeying the command to survive, sprinting forward with Knight Owen and the others. The woods under the night sky felt like a monstrous beast baring its fangs; trees, bushes, uneven ground—everything could become an obstacle to their escape. His ears filled with the rush of wind, the heavy breathing of his companions, and the growing clamor of their pursuers closing in behind them.
The desperate flight in the moonlight lasted only a few minutes, yet felt like centuries. Ahead, several Goblins let out strange shrieks, waving their crude weapons, seemingly emerging from the earth to block their path and attempt an encirclement. Running in the lead, Knight Owen's face grim, did not falter. From a distance, Corbin saw a dazzling white Combat Aura light up on Knight Owen instantly, a force vast and pure.
Knight Owen charged into the group of Goblins like a released arrow, an unstoppable force. His longsword swept out with sharp, Combat Aura-infused light, accompanied by the grating clash of metal and the crisp snap of bone. Schlick! Schlick! He saw two Goblins decapitated by Owen's sword, green blood spraying under the moonlight.
Beside him, a Goblin shrieked, swinging a bone club towards Knight Owen's back. Just as the club was about to fall, Rhodes, agile as a ghost, moved up from the side and behind it. He gave a low shout, his round shield striking the Goblin's arm with precise force—Thwack!—deflecting its attack.
Immediately after, Matthew's tall figure arrived with the sound of rushing wind. He roared, his two-handed greatsword following close behind with a cleaving whoosh. Crunch! The blow felled that Goblin.
Knight Owen, Rhodes, and Matthew completed their actions almost simultaneously. Without a moment's pause, the three vaulted over a fallen log ahead, continuing their charge forward, clearing a path for their companions behind them. Rhodes and Matthew quickly followed Owen over the obstacle. Lyra, a small figure, followed closely behind Matthew, her body light, clearing the log and sticking right behind him.
Corbin followed at the very rear of the group, feeling the oppressive presence of the pursuers closing in behind him. More Goblins shrieked, circling around from the sides and behind; their focus was on the group ahead, and they had not yet turned to intercept Corbin. A fierce glint flashed in Corbin's eyes.
Using the momentum of his run, he drove his right knee hard into the back of a Goblin lunging towards him, producing a dull impact that made the Goblin grunt and its body stiffen. Without pausing, Corbin followed through with an upward slash of his longsword. The cold blade passed almost directly against the Goblin's ugly neck—a warm,腥味的 liquid sprayed out. He saw the green blood splatter under the moonlight, hearing the Goblin's brief death cry.
Breaking through the immediate obstacle, Corbin quickly closed in on the group ahead. He saw Knight Owen stop, turning to face them, his eyes showing a mix of urgency and readiness to cover their arrival. Matthew, Rhodes, and Lyra also gathered around Knight Owen, their breathing growing heavy. Corbin could feel his companions' fatigue building, the tension never dissipating, even in flight.
Just then, Corbin's gaze swept past Knight Owen's shoulder towards the direction of the pursuit. He saw the black-cloaked figure who had cast the Fireball stop in the distance, standing on a relatively open rise, their dark cloak flapping in the night wind.
Corbin's extraordinary Perception captured the scorching, alien energy fluctuation emanating from them. This fluctuation was the same as Elder Lysander's and Lyra's, only far more violent and malicious. Under the "mapping" of this energy, even through the darkness and distance, some visual details were exceptionally clear. On the cloaked figure's exposed wrist, an ancient-looking metal ring gleamed faintly under the moonlight, and Corbin sensed a hint of chilling heat from it.
Behind the black-cloaked figure were the smugglers, who had also increased their pace, pursuing relentlessly.
Meanwhile, in the study of Elder Lysander's house in the back mountains...
Elder Lysander was hunched over his desk, writing furiously. His quill suddenly paused. He looked up, tilting his head to listen, a grave expression on his face. A distant boom, like muffled thunder, followed immediately by a surging tide of magical fluctuation, made his eyes narrow sharply. That fluctuation carried an ominous aura, far surpassing what an ordinary Mage could unleash.
"Impossible!" Elder Lysander shot up, knocking over the ink bottle in front of him. Ignoring the mess on his desk, he rushed out of the study into the yard.
He could clearly sense that horrifying magical fluctuation coming from the direction of the back mountain camp, accompanied by a faint but familiar aura of Owen's Combat Aura, and… a trace of Lyra's magical fluctuation that should not have been there!
Elder Lysander's face filled with urgency and worry. The situation was dire. He gave a low shout, and a dazzling magical light flared on his body. He shot towards the back mountain camp like a meteor.
Time was short; even a moment's respite felt like a luxury. Before Corbin, Matthew stumbled, his steps growing heavier. An arrow was clearly embedded in his arm, the fletching still slightly trembling, blood seeping out and staining his sleeve red. Rhodes and Lyra were also breathing heavily, their gasps loud in Corbin's ears. They had been running too long; their stamina and magic were rapidly depleting.
Just then, Corbin keenly sensed a threat closing in from the left. The smugglers, leveraging their equipment advantage, had found a gap in the woods and were forming an encirclement. They drew their bows, arrows glinting coldly in the moonlight.
Within their ranks, Corbin sensed the presence of the other hooded figure. They emanated a biting chill, completely different from the scorching energy sensed earlier. Corbin recalled sensing a beautifully patterned dagger during his observation at the camp; that chill seemed to emanate from the dagger's direction. This thought flashed through his mind.
And directly ahead, the hooded figure with the ring appeared. They raised a hand, and a low, hoarse incantation sounded:
"Spirit of the Living Flame! Arise and strike! Pyralia Solara! Be a bolt of fire, burning bright!"
Danger! Corbin's Perception shrieked a warning. A ball of scorching flame abruptly condensed at their fingertips, rapidly expanding into a dazzling Fireball!
Tearing through the night sky! The Fireball, whistling through the wind, landed precisely behind the bush they had been hiding in. With a loud boom, accompanied by dazzling firelight and flying earth, the blast wave, mixed with the smell of burning plants, rushed towards them, hot and searing. Corbin could feel the blast wave… and the residual, strange and powerful energy aftershock in the air.
The sudden attack sent everyone's adrenaline surging; there was no time to think, only to run for their lives.
Even in their desperate escape, a part of Corbin's mind was still working furiously. This energy… it is the same as Elder Lysander's and Lyra's! Just much more violent, malicious! This is how that power is used!
Corbin saw Matthew's large frame displaying astonishing burst of speed; his facial muscles were tense, each step pounding heavily on the ground, sending dirt flying. Rhodes was agile as a leopard, weaving between trees, his eyes sharp and focused, his steps swift. Corbin's longsword was now an obstacle to his running; he kept the blade pointed backward, using the sword to cleverly deflect branches and avoid getting entangled.
Corbin's hearing picked up the rapid scratching sounds of Goblin claws on the dirt behind them, and the heavy breathing of the smugglers in the distance, mixed with the smell of tobacco and sweat.
Lyra, meanwhile, remained astonishingly calm during the escape. She followed closely behind Corbin, her form impossibly light, as if she had no weight underfoot. She seemed to be silently reciting something, ready to cast another spell at any moment.
And Knight Owen, while adjusting his direction, kept his peripheral vision trained on the rear, ensuring every companion was in sight. His lips were pressed tight, his gaze steady, and his calm voice whispered in the wind:
"Maintain formation, head towards the horses! They have numbers, we can't engage!"
The firelight behind them grew closer. Goblins emitted piercing shrieks, and the smugglers cursed as they quickened their pursuit. Further in the distance, other bandits in the camp also began to stir, shouts of killing gradually rising. The two hooded figures were like omnipresent ghosts; their magical attacks, carrying the scorching heat or biting cold of alien energy in various forms, landed behind them from time to time. Sometimes it was a twisting, whipping tongue of fire, bringing suffocating heat; sometimes sharp ice spikes erupting from the ground, bringing bone-chilling cold; sometimes howling Fireballs, carrying terrifying explosive power, blasting holes in the night woods. The hot blast waves and shattered branches constantly threatened their lives. This was a pure fight for survival.
Their only hope was to quickly shake off their pursuers, reach their horses, and then race back to Windbreath Town at top speed to raise the alarm!