Chương 9: Ruthless Flames of War & a Burning Resolve

Before their paths crossed, on the other side of the camp, Tiberius and Tranio fought shoulder-to-shoulder, a whirlwind of fur and steel against six desperate guards. With every dodge and strike, Galan's mindcast guided them with precise, silent control, each movement synchronized through his will. A crossbowman knelt beside a tent and took aim at Tiberius. But at that same moment, Flavia's spell reached its peak. She chanted her intent, her voice low and steady.

"Absolute Immolation." Heat rippled from her staff. A blast of pure, searing flame erupted, cutting through the outpost toward the archer. He turned at the sound, his face a mask of terror, but the inferno struck before he could fire. His scream stifled as the flames reached him before he could react, with Flavia holding her focus until the spell completed its course. Meanwhile, another crossbowman, who had also been aiming at Tiberius, flinched at the explosion and his comrade's choked-off scream.

That split-second of hesitation was all the opening Tiberius needed. The wolf-man charged, a blur of motion. The guard fired too late—Tiberius slipped aside as the bolt tore past, missing by a fur's breadth. With a roar, he swung his axe low. The guard collapsed as the strike landed, screaming as he fell back into the tent. From the edge of the camp, Marybelle stood frozen, her knees threatening to buckle as her grip on her staff weakened.

The incantation circle at her feet flickered and faded, her focus shattering completely as her stomach churned. For a moment, she nearly collapsed. But through her tear-blurred vision, a series of memories flickered to life, a desperate anchor in the storm of violence. She remembered the warm, fragrant steam of the pork soup she had cooked with Noctavia for Gaius, right on the day he first managed to light the fireplace with his bare hands.

She remembered the easy laughter they had all shared around the dining table, a small, found family. She remembered the long nights spent sitting with Gaius, comforting him through the night terrors that stole his sleep, their quiet whispers a shield against the darkness. No, she thought, her voice a trembling whisper in her own mind. I can't disappoint them… I have to do something… With a ragged breath, she straightened her spine.

She drove the nails of her thumbs into her middle fingers, the sharp, grounding sting of pain cutting through her panic. Her staff quivered in her grasp. The incantation circle at her feet wavered, then flared, reforming with a new, defiant intensity. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. She lifted her staff once more, her heart pounding with a rhythm of both fear and resolve as she poured every ounce of her concentration into the spell.

───────────── ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ───────────── Within the tent, Tiberius loomed at the entrance, his massive, battle-scarred frame silhouetted by the light of the twin moons. His breath was a low, guttural growl as he advanced. His lips peeled back, revealing fangs slick with saliva, and his eyes gleamed with a merciless, predatory intent.

"P-please!" the guard scrambled back, his good leg kicking uselessly at the carpet. He held up a hand, his voice a quivering wreck.

"I'll give you everything I have—I've saved up ten years' worth… I'll hand it all over! Just spare me… I have a family…" Tears streamed down the man's face, but Tiberius only let out a low, rumbling laugh that seemed to shake the very canvas of the tent. He leaned down, his massive, wolf-like face inches from the terrified guard's face.

"Nothing you offer will undo what your master did to me," he growled, his voice a serrated edge of pure hatred. His mind called back to the days where he had served the guards and the guests in any way they wished, a time of profound humiliation and quiet subservience.

"Save for the lives of those who were complicit in its orchestration." He straightened up, lifting his axe, the blood on its edge gleaming in the dim light.

"And yours is overdue."

"No! Please!" the guard shrieked, shielding his face with his crossbow. The axe fell with a heavy crack—and the tent fell silent. He yanked his axe free and stood over the silence, breathing hard as the tent fell still around him. ───────────── ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ⚔︎ ───────────── Back when Tiberius lunged for the archer, Tranio was left to face four swordsmen alone. Steel flashed as he weaved between their blades, a blur of deadly grace.

"Hey, Tranio, need some help?" Aelia's voice echoed in his mind. She was watching from the wall, finishing a snack.

"Sure, I could use some," he sent back, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

"Then get out of there!" she projected, her thought laced with a mischievous grin.

"I have a surprise for them!" Tranio's pupils narrowed into pinpricks. He drove his knife into one guard's arm, yanking the man forward to block the other guards from attacking. As they hesitated, he somersaulted over the guard's body and planted his feet onto the guard's back. With a single movement, he kicked the guard forward, pulled his knife free, and spun himself backwards into the air. His tail lashed out, snapping him into position before he landed in a controlled roll.

The wounded guard fell onto his comrades' arms, now perfectly grouped for Aelia's surprise. A moment later, a massive canister—heaved by the surprisingly strong dwarf—crashed into their midst. Gas hissed from the seal, engulfing them in a thick cloud.

"What is that?!" one of them choked. They collapsed almost at once, dropping their weapons as they went still. Then for a moment, the chaos paused.

"Whoa," Tranio muttered, wrinkling his nose.

"Didn't know you distilled your own sweat and made smoke bombs with it."

"I can fill your room with this stuff without you noticing, y'know? You want that?" Aelia shot back, planting her fists on her hips. Tranio held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Nah, I'm good. I've had enough doses of you to last a lifetime."

"Hmph!"