Brutus, who had been trembling like a frightened child the whole time, finally snapped. His body jerked as if his mind suddenly screamed at him to run.
He turned sharply and bolted toward the escape tunnel, Essence flaring around him in panic.
But Knight was faster.
One shadowy blur and he was gone from my sight. In the next instant, he appeared directly behind Brutus.
His tail lashed out with a sickening hiss, piercing clean through Brutus’s forehead. The point burst out from the front of his skull, quivering like a spear.
Brutus’s body stiffened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out just a choked gasp. Then Knight gave the smallest twist of his tail.
Brutus’s head exploded in a spray of bone and blood. His body crumpled lifeless to the ground.
On the other side, Ragnar stepped through the settling dust and landed beside Horun, who lay sprawled and broken on the cracked earth.
The tiger’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His white coat was torn to shreds, blood soaking through the once-pristine fabric. He coughed, red bloodspilling from his mouth, and his golden eyes burned with rage even in the face of death.
"You... bastards..." he growled, voice guttural and broken. His claws scraped weakly at the ground as he tried to push himself up, but his body betrayed him.
The strength of a grandmaster was gone, crushed under Ragnar’s earlier blow. All that remained was a wounded beast refusing to bow.
Ragnar didn’t even flinch. He stood over him like a mountain, calm and merciless. His club lowered slowly, and started glowing in silver runes.
"It was a boring fight," Ragnar said, his voice flat and heavy with disdain. "I expected more from the so-called tiger of the Ferans."
Horun let out a ragged snarl, blood dribbling down his chin. For a moment, I thought he might roar one last time, but it broke into a cough. His body convulsed once before slumping back to the ground, defiant eyes still locked on Ragnar.
Ragnar lifted the club and, without hesitation, drove it down.
A sickening crack split the air as Ragnar’s glowing club pierced straight through Horun’s chest. The tiger’s roar died in his throat, replaced by silence. The earth beneath him split apart from the force, leaving a shallow crater. His golden eyes stayed wide open, frozen in rage even in death.
And just like that, the proud tiger was gone.
I shifted my perception, tracking Roland as he bolted.
He had already rushed through the flame wall, leaving his comrades to die, and was now darting through the fort like a cornered rat.
His body trembled, his steps uneven, and by the time he slammed into his room, sweat poured down his face. He shut the door behind him like a frightened child.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Cowards always revealed themselves the fastest. I kept my perception locked on him, making sure he didn’t slip away, and then stepped out from my hiding place within the Devouring Flames. My body rose into the air as I flew straight toward Ragnar and Knight.
I landed beside them, my boots crunching over broken bones and debris. The graveyard was in ruins and the once solemn field now looked like the aftermath of a storm.
"Ragnar," I said, shaking my head, "you caused too much destruction."
He only scoffed, resting his bone club lazily on his shoulder. "I had to. There was no fun in fighting them otherwise. Why are we wasting time here? As I said before, let’s just go to war."
Knight stood nearby, his long tail swaying idly. His red eyes gleamed as he muttered, "No need for direct war. I can sneak in and abduct their Emperor. End the fight before it even starts."
I let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You two..." I began, but held my words.
Because at that very moment, Silver suddenly moved.
The figure clad in wooden armor that had sat silently on the castle wall all this time suddenly rose, wings spreading wide. He shot toward us in a rush, the heavy beat of his wings shaking the broken air. And right behind him, Lyrate followed.
Silver landed hard beside us, his wings flapping furiously as if to shake off his anger. His wooden armor creaked and shifted, hiding his true form beneath its dark plating.
"Ragnar," Silver growled, his voice muffled under the armor, "that was not the deal we made."
Ragnar slowly turned to face him, folding his arms across his chest, club resting against his shoulder. "What deal?"
Silver’s wings snapped once, sharp and loud. "We were all supposed to kill some of them. That was the plan."
"I don’t recall any such deal," Ragnar said flatly.
Silver’s voice rose with frustration. "What? Are you trying to take all the fun for yourself? Next time, I won’t agree to anything with you."
Ragnar shrugged. "As I said, I don’t recall any such deal."
Before the argument could heat further, Lyrate stepped forward. Her steps were calm, her presence cutting through the tension like a blade. She eyed Ragnar without blinking and said, "It’s fine, Silver. You can’t expect much from uncultured beings."
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He stepped forward, his heavy frame casting a shadow over the ground. "Culture? What is that supposed to be? I don’t need it. My club is enough."
I sighed heavily before things could escalate further.
"Enough. Silver, Lyrate, you’ll get your chance to fight as well. It’s not like they won’t be coming back. And if they don’t..." I glanced toward the flame wall, the path my staff had carved glowing faintly. "Then we’ll go to them. We will go to war."
My words settled the tension, if only slightly. Silver folded his wings back with a huff. Lyrate kept her gaze cool and unreadable. Ragnar just grunted and rested his club back on his shoulder, clearly still eager for more blood.
I turned, staring at my staff that still held the tunnel open through the Devouring Flames, its faint runes shimmering with my will.
"I’ll follow Roland," I said at last. "He’s too frightened to keep his mouth shut, and I need to know what he plans. All of you stay here. Anyone who comes..." My voice dropped, sharp and final. "...kill them."
One by one, they gave their nods of agreement. Without wasting another breath, I spread my will, lifted into the air, and shot straight toward the tunnel, ready to check in on dear Roland.