Ruby and Leeani dashed through the undergrowth, their breathing shallow as they sought refuge behind a large, moss-covered tree. 

The rough bark pressed into their backs as they peeked around its trunk, just enough to see the chaos unfolding in the clearing.

Not far off.

Nert and Jiighual fought against a tide of bandits that surged forward like waves. 

Jiighual, shield raised, bashed into the nearest bandit with such force that a crack resounded as bones shattered, sending his foe sprawling to the ground. 

Each swing of his shield was brutal, calculated—

Yet the swarm closed in tighter.

Pressing on him with relentless aggression.

Beside him, Nert's movements were swift, unrestrained. 

He twisted and yanked limbs at impossible angles, breaking arms and legs as if they were nothing more than brittle twigs. 

A sharp crack followed each strike—

But his expression remained cold.

Almost detached, even as sweat dripped down his face.

Yet even he was beginning to tire, his movements slowing as the bandits multiplied, circling and pressing on him from all sides.

Further off, Leeani's eyes caught sight of Qarek and Kazaks entangled in a thick, knotted net. 

Bandits tugged and pulled at them, using knives and swords to jab through the gaps in the netting. 

The two struggled, twisting and shifting to avoid the blades, but a few strikes nicked their skin—

Blood seeping through small slashes as they struggled. 

Kazaks grunted with each dodge, shifting his body just enough to avoid a fatal wound. 

While Qarek's face tightened in frustration as he tried to break free.

Only for another group of bandits to yank the net further, dragging them across the dirt— 

Separating them from the others.

"They're cutting us off..." Leeani muttered under her breath, her eyes darting between the struggling members of the Renaissance Band. 

Her grip tightened around her crossbow, knuckles white, as she took in the desperation painted across each friend's face.

She turned to Ruby, a resolute glint in her eyes. 

"I have to help them," she whispered urgently, her hand already reaching for an arrow.

But Ruby's hand shot out, catching Leeani by the arm, pulling her back. 

Her gaze was wide with worry, her voice barely above a whisper as she murmured.

"Aina... Haerak... they're in trouble too..."

Leeani hesitated, her breath catching as she glanced back toward where the young girl and her father were hiding. 

Her heart twisted with uncertainty.

She was torn between her instinct to help her comrades and the thought of leaving Ruby alone to protect the defenseless father and daughter. 

Her eyes darted from Ruby's grip to the battlefield, where Jiighual's shield rose and fell, where Nert's strength wavered, and where Qarek and Kazaks struggled to evade the knife points pressing into them.

For a moment, the chaos seemed to close in on her—

The cries of her friends, the snarls and taunts of the bandits. 

The gleam of blades catching the sunlight as they arced toward the people she cared for.

Leeani's gaze turned sharp with determination as she took a steadying breath, her fingers brushing against the fletching of her arrows as she steadied herself. 

"I'll go find Aina and Haerak."

Her eyes swept over the battlefield as she added.

"I don't see Yzavynne, Master, or Captain out here... The trees are probably blocking them, but they're not close enough to reach us quickly. We'll have to manage for now." 

She looked to Ruby, her expression fierce yet controlled, and for a moment—

They shared a quiet understanding.

Ruby's brow furrowed. 

She asked.

"And what's your plan?"

Her voice a mix of worry and anticipation, as if ready to spring into action the second Leeani gave the signal.

Leeani swallowed, her mind racing as she pieced together a way through the chaos. 

"First," she began, her voice low and intense. 

"I need you to stay just ahead of me as we go. Run straight, but not too fast—I'll stay right behind you and take out anyone who comes from the sides. I need a clear line of sight, and if we're close, I can guard us both without worrying about losing you."

Ruby gave a small, steady nod, her lips pressed together in a thin line of determination.

"Once we find Haerak, Aina, and Yzavynne," Leeani continued.

"We regroup. Yzavynne's probably holding her ground, but she'll need us to help cover Haerak and Aina. They're vulnerable. And once we're together... we push to the shoreline. Andhur's alone out there, holding off their someone. We can't leave him on his own."

Ruby glanced over her shoulder, her face pale but determined. 

"So, I'll lead you there... then what?"

Leeani tightened her grip on her bow, eyes flashing with a hint of excitement. 

"I'll cover you both on the way there, shooting down anyone trying to flank us. The second we see Yzavynne, we'll fall in with her, and I'll start taking down anyone who's a threat to Aina and Haerak. We'll keep a tight formation—no one wanders off. No risks."

Ruby's mouth opened, questions at the tip of her tongue, but she closed it, nodding. 

The two women locked eyes once more—

A silent pact passing between them.

They moved quickly, ducking low through the trees as they began weaving through the battlefield. 

Ruby darted in front, her footsteps soft as she kept her eyes scanning the surroundings, while Leeani followed, arrow nocked, eyes cold and vigilant. 

Her fingers tightened on her bowstring as the sounds of battle grew louder—the clash of weapons, the guttural cries of the injured, and the distant roar of Thorne's men pushing ever forward.

In the chaos, they finally spotted Yzavynne—her whip blade flashing through the air, carving a path around Haerak and Aina, who stood sheltered under her fierce protection. 

Yzavynne's gaze flicked to Leeani and Ruby as they approached, and she motioned them to close in.

"Stay close!" Yzavynne barked over the noise, her voice low but commanding. 

Her arm arced out to keep her whip blade circling in a defensive barrier. 

"No one goes anywhere alone. We're moving together, covering each other."

Ruby and Leeani exchanged glances, each understanding the gravity of their position. 

But as they closed ranks, Yzavynne's eyes shifted, a thought dawning on her.

"Andhur," she murmured, her gaze hardening as she turned to the shoreline in the distance, just visible beyond the trees. 

"He's out there alone, holding that mysterious man."

Leeani clenched her jaw. 

"They're keeping us from pushing in further. But if that man overpower him..."

A determination sparked in Yzavynne's eyes, her mouth set in a thin, determined line. 

"We need to get to him. Now." 

She looked to each of them, her gaze unwavering. 

"We move fast, stick together, and stay sharp, just like what Captain said earlier."

Haerak reached for Aina's hand, his grip protective and firm as he gave her a reassuring nod. 

He murmured gently.

"Stay with me."

With Leeani's plan and Yzavynne's lead, they began pushing through the trees in tight formation. 

Leeani stayed vigilant at the rear, firing precise arrows to take down bandits lurking too close.

While Yzavynne led the way, her whip blade snapping and flashing, cutting a path as they moved steadily toward Andhur's last known location on the shore.

△▼△▼△▼△

Nert and Jiighual, their breaths heavy as they fought amidst a seemingly endless wave of bandits. 

They moved in tandem, backs nearly touching, as they braced against the fierce assault coming at them from all directions.

Nert swung his fists with controlled precision, each strike landing with bone-crushing force. 

But despite his skill— 

His strength was starting to wane. 

His muscles burned, and his movements began to feel sluggish as the poison worked its way through his system. 

He grunted as he twisted the arm of a bandit and snapped it, hearing the sharp crack, yet he was already surrounded by two more waiting to pounce.

"I'm... growing tired... faster... and faster..." he muttered under his breath, feeling the strain more with each passing second. 

"Is this the poison?"

Jiighual smashed his shield into a bandit's face, shoving the man back with enough force to knock him into two others. 

He spared only a quick glance at Nert, his own breathing labored.

"Perhaps." 

He holds off a group that attempted to rush him from the left.

"But worrying about the poison won't keep us alive. Focus!" 

He raised his shield once more, catching a sword strike, then retaliated with a brutal shove, sending the attacker sprawling to the ground.

Nert tightened his fists, forcing himself to push through the haze clouding his vision. 

His strikes were fierce, though slightly slower now, each hit taking a little longer as his limbs felt like lead. 

He saw a bandit lunging for his side and managed to dodge just in time, slamming his elbow down onto the man's spine and sending him to the ground with a gasp of pain. 

But another attacker was already there, swinging a knife at him.

Jiighual, spotting the movement, brought his shield around, deflecting the blade just inches from Nert's arm. 

With a fierce snarl, he raised his shield high and brought it crashing down onto the bandit's skull, a dull, sickening crunch echoing around them.

But— 

The moment of relief was short-lived. 

A group of three bandits surged forward, each wielding long knives and clubs, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. 

Jiighual tried to intercept them, raising his shield, but his arms trembled from the exertion, and he only managed to block two of the incoming strikes. 

The third slipped past his defense, slicing along his forearm.

Jiighual hissed in pain but didn't falter. He swung his shield outward, knocking the three back, his expression darkening as he felt warm blood trickling down his arm.

He growled, his voice low with frustration.

"These bastards... they're not giving up... they just keep... coming... and coming..."

"They're relentless... but so are we," Nert shot back, forcing himself to stand straighter despite the fatigue settling into his bones. 

He clenched his fists again and lunged forward, catching a bandit by the neck and slamming him against a tree with a force that rattled leaves down around them. 

But even as he took down one, he noticed two more closing in from the sides, moving with a coordinated aggression that made his stomach churn.

"Jiighual, behind you!" Nert shouted, seeing another bandit slipping past Jiighual's defenses.

Jiighual spun, slamming his shield back just in time, but his movements were noticeably slower now— 

The poison and exhaustion wearing them down. 

He grimaced, knocking the bandit off balance, then stomped down hard, feeling the crunch of bone underfoot. Despite the advantage of his massive shield, it was getting harder to fend off the onslaught.

"I... can't keep this up forever," Jiighual admitted, his breath coming in gasps. 

"We need a way out."

"Agreed," Nert replied, gritting his teeth as he swung his arm out in a wide arc, striking a bandit across the jaw and sending him tumbling to the ground. 

But for every bandit they knocked down, two more seemed to take their place, crowding them, 

Their faces twisted in snarling grins—

Eager to finally wear the two warriors down.

As if in response, another wave of bandits surged forward, emboldened by the signs of fatigue they saw in Nert and Jiighual. 

One of them lunged at Nert, aiming for his chest, and Nert barely managed to deflect the attack, stumbling slightly as he did.

"Too slow!" one of the bandits taunted, his grin widening as he noticed Nert's faltering steps. 

He lunged again, knife flashing.

In a sudden burst of defiance, Nert stepped to the side, dodging the attack and retaliating with a powerful knee to the man's gut, sending him crumpling to the ground with a wheeze. 

But the poison's effects lingered, and his vision blurred for a second, making the next attack harder to dodge.

A club swung out and struck Nert on his side, sending a flare of pain through his ribs.

He stumbled, catching himself with a grunt.

Jiighual, seeing Nert's vulnerability, threw himself forward, his shield raised. 

He bashed it into the bandit who'd struck Nert, sending the man staggering back. 

But Jiighual's movements were heavy now, and the exertion showed on his face.

"We're getting backed into a corner."

Nert replied.

"Then let's... make this corner... a graveyard... "

△▼△▼△▼△

The scene shifted from their fierce standoff to the clearing where Kazaks and Qarek, entangled in thick nets, were struggling against a different assault. 

Kazaks gritted his teeth, twisting his body to avoid the sharpened blade of a knife that jabbed too close for comfort. 

He could see Qarek struggling just a few feet away, hands bound by the net's tangled cords, his war axe frustratingly out of reach.

The bandits encircled them, taunting with sneers and jeers, and dragging them slowly, inch by inch, toward the shadows of the dense forest.

They pulled hard on the ropes, jerking Kazaks and Qarek roughly as though—

They were nothing more than prey to be cornered and butchered. 

Each time Kazaks or Qarek tried to twist away, a fresh wave of jeers erupted, some of the bandits using sticks or the blunt ends of their weapons to shove them back into the nets.

"Shit... these nets..."

A bandit leaned close to Kazaks, his face twisted in a sick grin. 

"Not so tough now, eh? All that heavy iron and nowhere to swing it."

Kazaks snarled, his gaze sharp and unwavering. 

"Keep talking while you still have your teeth." 

With a powerful, sudden movement, he twisted, using his shoulder to slam into the nearest bandit, even as the net held him tight.

The bandit stumbled back, and Kazaks couldn't help but smirk, defiant even in his entrapment.

But their struggle wasn't without consequence. 

A gleam of a blade caught Kazaks' eye, and he jerked back just in time, feeling the tip graze his forearm. 

Blood welled up, warm and sharp, as the bandit gave a cruel laugh.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Just stay put!"

"We'll enjoy torturing both of you later!"

"Where are the three beauties from your band?"

Meanwhile, Qarek was trying to untangle his fingers enough to reach for his war axe, which hung just inches out of his grasp, caught in the mess of ropes around him. 

The bandits seemed to take pleasure in his struggle, poking their blades dangerously close to his face as they jerked him back whenever he got close.

One of the bandits sneered down at Qarek. 

"Poor guy, can't reach his precious little axe. Don't worry, we'll put it to good use soon enough."

Qarek glared, his voice a low growl. 

"Try it and see how well it serves you without fingers."

Despite their entrapment, both Kazaks and Qarek kept defying the bandits, their spirits unbroken. 

But with every failed attempt to free themselves, the bandits grew bolder, drawing their knives with sick amusement, eager to press closer. 

Each heartbeat a countdown as Kazaks and Qarek fought, knowing any hesitation could lead to a final—

Brutal end.

As the two are being dragged further into the thick underbrush, a low whistle cut through the air—an arrow slicing toward them, narrowly missing Kazaks' shoulder. 

Another whistled by, then another, more accurate with every shot. 

The bandits grinned with cruel satisfaction as Kazaks and Qarek braced against the attacks they could barely dodge.

Suddenly—

A shadow shot across the field, closing the distance with frightening speed. 

Gargeal, with his huge greatsword drawn, charged toward the chaos, his presence an unyielding force amid the swarm. 

His speed was incredible, each sprinting step faster than the last, while he deflected arrows with swift.

Calculated sweeps of his blade. 

The bandits began to shout in alarm, seeing him approach like a thunderstorm bearing down upon them.

Gargeal leaped high, soaring above the heads of the bandits, his massive frame darkening the ground beneath him. 

His eyes blazed with grim focus as he raised his greatsword over his head, gripping the hilt with white-knuckled strength. 

His descent was swift and brutal.

He crashed down amidst the crowd, and the impact reverberated through the ground as he drove his greatsword down with a thunderous swing. 

The nearest bandit didn't even have time to scream before the blade sliced through him, splitting flesh and bone with a sickening crunch. 

Blood sprayed across the clearing—

And heads were severed in one brutal arc, scattering like broken dolls across the dirt.

The bandits closest to him froze, their faces twisted in horror, but Gargeal gave them no time to react. 

He ripped his sword free. 

The blade stained dark with fresh blood, and swung it into the next unlucky soul. 

His movements were relentless, as though each strike was fueled by a wrath he could barely contain. 

A quick pivot, a low swing, and a sickening thud later—

Two more bodies fell in twisted heaps.

One bandit, shaking with fear, raised his dagger, attempting a desperate attack from the side. 

But Gargeal didn't even glance at him—he turned sharply, bringing his blade around with a quick, brutal motion. 

The bandit's head flew clean off his shoulders, his body crumpling with a dull thud as blood pooled around him.

Kazaks and Qarek watched from within the net, stunned as their rescuer cut through the ranks of bandits with deadly precision. 

Kazaks gave a small, approving nod, his face twisted into a smirk. 

"Finally." 

He muttered under his breath.

"A bit of backup."

Meanwhile, Gargeal pushed forward, his blade moving in brutal, calculated arcs. 

"Mhmp!"

The sheer weight of it crushed any armor or bones that dared to stand in its path. 

He stepped over bodies, each movement fluid and practiced—

As though this massacre was just another routine.

A few bandits, desperate, charged him with their weapons raised. 

Gargeal met them head-on, swinging his sword low and cleaving through their legs. 

They toppled like felled trees, howling in pain, clutching their bleeding stumps before his blade found them again—

Putting an end to their screams.

An archer tried to take him out from a distance, nocking an arrow and taking careful aim. 

But Gargeal, ever alert, caught sight of him in his peripheral vision. 

Without hesitation, he adjusted his grip and hurled his sword with deadly accuracy. 

The massive blade spun through the air, embedding itself deep into the archer's chest, pinning him to a tree with a gurgling scream.

With a grim smile, Gargeal strode forward and yanked his sword free, leaving the corpse to slump to the ground. 

He turned, scanning the field littered with bodies, his gaze settling on the tangled net trapping Kazaks and Qarek.

"It'll be alright."

With a swift motion, he slashed through the ropes, freeing them from their binds. 

"Because I'm here."

Kazaks stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders with a dark chuckle as he grabbed his warhammer from the ground. 

Qarek retrieved his war axe, his eyes flashing with a newfound, dangerous light.

"Well, Master," Kazaks grinned, hefting his warhammer and glaring at the bandits who remained.

 "You just made things interesting."

The three of them stood side by side, facing the few surviving bandits who now quaked with fear. 

Blood-soaked, relentless—

They were an unstoppable force. 

And as they charged, the final sounds of screams and shattering bones filled the air—

 As every last enemy met a brutal end beneath their merciless assault.

△▼△▼△▼△

Zach, breathing steadily in a clearing.

His gaze remained fixed on Thorne, who circled him like a predator savoring its prey. 

The battle between them was different—

Tense and quiet. 

As if both understood the weight of their encounter.

Thorne's sneering face twisted into a grin as he dragged the tip of his broadsword across the ground. 

"Your friends can't hold out forever, Captain," he sneered, eyes gleaming with malice. 

"One by one, they'll fall, they'll die. And by the time I'm done with you, there'll be nothing left of your precious little band."

Zach clenched his jaw, his eyes sharp and unwavering. 

This was more than a fight—

It was a confrontation between opposing wills.

Each man determined to break the other. 

He readied his weapon, his stance calm and controlled, while Thorne's feral grin widened.

Thorne grinned wickedly as he slammed his broadsword into the ground, sending a spray of dirt into Zach's eyes. 

The gritty cloud filled Zach's vision, momentarily blinding him—

And Thorne didn't waste a second. 

Lunging forward, he used the momentary advantage to throw a brutal punch, catching Zach hard in the jaw.

But Zach, though disoriented, was already moving with the blow, rolling backward to soften the impact. 

As he blinked the dirt from his eyes, his vision clearing, he saw Thorne approaching again, his broadsword held low in a deceptive stance.

"Not bad, Captain." Thorne sneered, circling with calculated steps. 

"But you're predictable." 

He jabbed the blade forward, feinting left only to spin right, his elbow swinging in close to hit Zach in the ribs.

Zach winced but absorbed the strike, quickly realizing Thorne's style—

Dirty, unpredictable, always with a hint of misdirection. 

Calculating his next move, Zach caught his breath, shifting his stance. 

This time, as Thorne closed in with a series of slashes, Zach sidestepped, forcing Thorne's momentum to work against him.

Frustrated, Thorne snarled and lunged forward, pulling a handful of sand from his pocket and flinging it at Zach's face. 

But Zach was already a step ahead. 

Anticipating another distraction, he ducked low, letting the sand fly harmlessly over his head. 

Then, in a fluid motion, he drove his knee upward, catching Thorne square in the stomach.

Thorne staggered, coughing but quickly recovered, his eyes flashing with fury. 

He stumbled back a step, eyeing Zach with a twisted grin as he fished a small dagger from his boot. 

"You think you're smart?" he taunted, hurling the dagger at Zach's leg.

Zach dodged, but the blade grazed his calf, drawing a thin line of blood. 

He hissed but maintained his focus, blocking out the pain. 

"Argh!"

Thorne charged again, gripping his broadsword in both hands as he swung downward in a brutal arc. 

Zach anticipated the blow, side-stepping and using Thorne's momentum against him to deliver a sharp elbow to Thorne's back.

Enraged, Thorne spun around and ripped off a piece of his cloak, tossing it over Zach's face in a makeshift blindfold. 

As Zach swatted the fabric away, Thorne aimed a brutal punch at his stomach, but Zach caught his wrist, twisting sharply. 

Thorne's face contorted in pain, but he retaliated by stomping down hard on Zach's foot, forcing him to let go.

For a split second, they locked eyes. 

Thorne's face twisted with contempt, while Zach's gaze remained calm but deadly, calculating his next move.

"You're... really starting to piss me off." Thorne spat, reaching for a pouch tied to his belt. 

Before Zach could react, Thorne pulled out a handful of metal shards and flung them forward. 

The small, razor-edged pieces glinted in the fading light as they shot toward Zach, meant to disorient and maim.

Zach raised his arm to shield his face, the shards slicing his forearm but missing his eyes. 

Ignoring the stinging pain, he advanced, his steps measured—

As if each movement was already planned. 

Thorne's grin faltered as Zach's calm persistence broke through his defenses.

Thorne attempted to swing his broadsword, but Zach parried with swift precision, his counterattack leaving Thorne stumbling backward. 

Thorne spat and, in a last-ditch effort, threw himself at Zach in a full-body tackle, trying to throw him off balance. 

But Zach anticipated the reckless move and, twisting at the last moment, used Thorne's momentum against him, sending him crashing hard to the ground.

As Thorne struggled to his feet, bloodied and panting, he shot Zach a venomous look, still clutching his sword. 

But Zach, now with the upper hand, didn't give him a moment to recover. 

He lunged forward with a swift, brutal strike, knocking the weapon from Thorne's hand.

Thorne's eyes widened as he stumbled back, trapped against a tree, his weapon out of reach. 

Zach advanced, his face calm but unyielding—

Each step closing the distance between them.

Thorne's bravado faded, replaced by a flicker of fear as he realized—

He was no longer in control.

He glanced at the surrounding chaos, then back to Zach, understanding that no dirty trick could save him now.

Zach's voice was calm but edged with a dangerous finality. 

"Your tactics? Predictable. And if you're going to fight like a coward, you should expect to lose like one."

Thorne glared, his voice trembling as he attempted a weak sneer. 

"You think you're any better than me, Captain?"

But Zach remained silent—

His unwavering gaze the only answer Thorne would get.

═════ ◆ TO BE CONTINUED ◆ ═════

◆ ◆ ◆ Author's Notes ◆ ◆ ◆

Boogsh!