The air around the estate's forge, usually filled with the comforting, rhythmic clang of Kaelen's hammer and the scent of heated iron, had turned deathly cold. It wasn't a natural chill, but the heavy, suffocating pressure of hostile mana.
Carla and Elsa moved like rats through the dense undergrowth, their movements synchronized and silent as they circled the perimeter. They stayed low, the tall grass brushing against their leather armor as they sought a vantage point. When they finally peered through a gap in the ancient oaks, the sight that greeted them made Elsa's blood run cold.
Mages. There were nearly half a dozen of them, draped in high-collared, ceremonial robes of ivory and gold, the exact same uniform worn by the Denares armies mages that had marched upon the gates to demand Elora.
Three of these mages stood in a grim semi-circle. Their wands, long, ornate staves of polished weirwood, were leveled like executioner's blades at the heads of several kneeling elves. Behind them, the rest of the forge's workers were bound with magically made earth tentalces, their heads bowed in a desperate, terrifying silence.
"They're powerful," Elsa whispered, her voice barely a tremor in the wind. Her silver eyes darted between the mages, calculating the mana density. "Those three... they are at least at the rank of a White Mage."
Carla shook her head, her gaze fixed on the mages' stances. "We Humans doesn't use the elven scale, Elsa. Only the knight ranks remain the same across the border. Human mages have their own system of naming. They are called SAINT CLASS MAGES"
Elsa gave a sharp, dismissive shrug, her hand tightening on the hilt of her dagger. "Whatever they call themselves, they are pointing death at our kin. That is all I need to know."
The heavy, iron-bound doors of the forge suddenly creaked open, the sound echoing like a death knell. A man stepped out, his presence so oppressive it felt as if the gravity in the clearing had doubled. He was tall, his robes a charcoal grey that seemed to absorb the light around him. In his left hand, he dragged a gagged and battered Liam.
Around Liam's neck sat a heavy, iron slave collar. Its surface was etched with cruel, pulsing runes that hummed with a low, dissonant frequency.
Watchingthis, Eon felt a white-hot spark of fury ignite in his chest. His High Elf blood began to boil. He began to rise, his muscles coiling like a spring, but Elsa's suddenly snapped out of her place, and grabbed him with surprising strength.
"What, why did you come out? I told you to stay hidden."
"Wait," she hissed, her silver eyes wide with genuine fear. "That man... he is at least a Shadow Mage. In the human kingdoms, Shadow Mages are the no to be messed with. We cannot involve ourselves blindly. If we are caught as well, it's over. There will be no one left to save them."
Eon forced his breath out through his teeth, trying to suppress the primal urge to kill. He tried to calm his racing heart, centering his mana. But then, the forge doors opened a second time.
Another mage, just as imposing and radiating that same chilling aura, stepped into the light. He wasn't dragging his prisoner; he was holding Verra by her hair, her head yanked back to expose the jagged, cruel edges of the slave collar locked around her throat. She wasn't fighting back, she looked broken, her eyes dull with the realization of her new reality.
The sight of Verra, one of the elves Eon had promised to protect, being treated like an animal shattered his last thread of restraint. The logic of the Shadow Mage, the warnings of Elsa, the tactical disadvantage, it all vanished.
Before Elsa or Carla could even register his movement, Eon was gone. He lunged forward with the explosive speed of his High Elf body, leaving the two women grasping at the empty air where he had stood.
As he closed the distance, his hands moved in a blur. He reached into his storage, pulling out a high-grade Strength Potion and downing it in a single, burning gulp. He felt his veins pulse with artificial power, his perception of time slowing down. Simultaneously, he produced a vial of Fear Potion, a concentrated brew of pure, psychological trauma.
With a roar of defiance, he hurled the vial at the mage holding Verra. The glass shattered against the man's chest, releasing a thick, roiling cloud of blood-red gas that instantly enveloped him.
The mage let out a strangled, primal scream, dropping Verra as the potion forced his mind to relive his most terrifying nightmares.
The sound of shattering glass and the sudden appearance of the "High Elf" sent the other mages into a frenzy. They snapped into battle stances, their wands rising in a practiced arc to channel their mana.
"Break."
Eon didn't use a long, rhythmic chant. He used his Matter Manipulationmagic, focusing his will on the molecular structure of the ivory and wood in their hands. A series of deafening cracks filled the air as the three wands snapped perfectly in half, the magical focuses falling uselessly into the dirt.
The mages froze, staring at their broken tools in shock. But these were veterans. Even without wands, they began to weave mana with their bare hands. The Shadow Mage holding Liam remained motionless, his cold eyes tracking Eon's movements. He was observing, analyzing Eon's speed and his strange, wordless magic, refusing to waste energy on a premature attack.
"Die, brat!" one of the mages snarled.
Two blades of pressurized, swirling water and a massive, roaring fireball tore through the air toward Eon. The water blades were so sharp they hummed, capable of slicing through stone. Eon twisted his body mid-stride, bending low to the ground. The water blades whistled inches above his back, but the fireball was too wide to fully dodge. Its heat licked at him, the outer edge of the flame catching the fabric of his hood and searing the upper wool away.
He didn't stop to put out the embers. He slammed his palms into the dirt, his mana diving deep into the earth.
"Earth Bullet!"
The ground beneath the mages buckled. Dozens of jagged, clay-like projectiles shot upward, accelerating with the force of a landslide. They were a volley of earthen shards aimed at the mages' chests.
But as the bullets reached the men, they didn't draw blood. They hit a shimmering, translucent wall that rippled like the surface of a pond. An invisible barrier of highly compressed air stood between Eon and his targets, grinding his earth bullets into dust upon impact.
'A structured air shield', Eon realized, his mind racing. 'Unlike my raw manipulation, this is a refined, proper spell. They're obviously more advanced than the guards I fought before.'
He prepared to lunge again, his hand reaching for another potion, but the atmosphere suddenly went frigid. The Shadow Mage, satisfied with his observations, finally moved.
He didn't run; he simply took a single step forward, and as his foot touched the ground, the very shadows of the trees stretched toward Eon like grasping fingers. The entire momentum of the fight, the frantic energy Eon had built, was swallowed by the mage's oppressive presence. The hunt had truly begun, and Eon realized that for the first time since his rebirth, he was facing someone who truly understood the weight of magic.
Author note: What is Eon is going to do now? If you want to read ahead of others buy my patreon tiers.
🚀 20-Chapter Head-Start on the public release! https://www.patreon.com/posts/instant-access-144074236?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link
🎨 Access to Exclusive Character Art, lore, and much more.
Discord Link: [https://discord.gg/2D7YUsma5s]