One Sengolio soldier sprinted through the chaos, armor clattering as he stumbled into the shade of a tree.
There, seated calmly on a flat rock, was Knight Anderson. His cloak rested lazily on his shoulders, his broad sword beside him. In his hands, a porcelain cup of tea stead gently, as though the battle around them was nothing more than distant noise.
"Knight Anderson!" the soldier gasped, nearly dropping to his knees. "Their strong warriors have made his move. We request your aid!"
Anderson raised an eyebrow, sipping slowly before setting the cup down. He let out a long yawn, stretching as if waking from a nap. "Really now? Couldn’t you all handle them yourselves? I’m still tired from that miserable journey."
The soldier swallowed, forcing down his frustration. He had seen this before, Anderson’s indifference, his mockery of duty. Still, he spoke carefully.
"Sir, the enemy has monsters among them. Strong ones. And their leader... he’s no ordinary fighter. He’s a Knight, and a dangerous one. We cannot defeat them without you."
Anderson waved a hand dismissively, reclining against the trunk of the tree. "You’ve got other Knights in your ranks. Plenty of them. Why bother ?"
The soldier clenched his teeth, but kept his voice steady. "Sir, General Lafuente gave strict orders, you are to assist if we fall into crisis. Please, do not disobey."
The words had barely left his mouth when the world shifted.
A crushing aura burst from Anderson, pressing down like an invisible mountain. The soldier staggered, lungs straining for breath, knees almost buckling. His vision swam as icy fear shot through him.
Anderson’s eyes, once half-lidded with boredom, now glead sharp and cold. "Are you threatening ?" he asked softly, the weight in his voice far heavier than his tone.
The soldier’s heart pounded, every instinct screaming to kneel, to beg. Sweat rolled down his temple. "N-no, sir... I... I only ant..."
Then, as quickly as it ca, the pressure vanished. Anderson leaned back, a smirk curling his lips, eyes glinting with amusent.
"Relax. I’m just having a bit of fun." He stood, brushing off his cloak, and rolled his shoulders. "Alright then... I suppose I could stretch my legs. Show where this troubleso ’leader’ is."
The soldier was still trembling, breath ragged, but forced himself upright. ’What’s with this madman...?’ he thought bitterly. Yet he had no choice. With a stiff nod, he turned, leading the Knight toward the heart of the battlefield, toward where Lumberling was carving through Sengolio lines.
...
On the battlefield, Lumberling moved like a storm. His spear cut down another armored foe, essence spilling into him as he pivoted for the next strike. The ground shook with chaos, shouts, steel, and the cries of the dying all blending into one heavy roar.
Then... his instincts scread.
Lumberling snapped his head to the side.
A shadow lood.
A massive broadsword was already descending for his neck.
Clang!
Sparks erupted as his spear shaft caught the blade inches from his throat. The force jolted down his arms, rattling his bones. His eyes widened. ’How...? How did this man get so close without sensing him?’
He had only felt the attacker’s presence at the very last heartbeat.
The man before him grinned, casual as if they were chatting over a drink. His blond hair caught the firelight, his eyes sharp and mocking.
"You blocked that, mate? Hah... looks like you’re sharper than the rest," Anderson said, voice lazy yet edged with amusent.
Lumberling didn’t waste words. His spear flared, mana surging as he activated Spearheart Thrust. The world slowed in his eyes. Every gap in Anderson’s stance glowed like a target.
His weapon moved with unnatural speed, one thrust splitting into many, aid at throat, chest, stomach, eyes, and legs.
Anderson’s grin faded. His broad sword blurred, steel eting steel as he twisted and dodged with frightening precision. Blades whirled to intercept, his body weaving through the flurry. But even for him, it was too much.
Shhk!
The spear tip slipped past, grazing his cheek. Blood welled and ran down his face.
Anderson froze, his hand rising slowly to touch the wound. Blood stained his fingers. His casual, half-bored look was gone, replaced with narrowed eyes and a thin smile.
"Well now..." he muttered, voice low. "It’s been a while since anyone’s drawn my blood."
Lumberling’s grip tightened on his spear. His breathing steadied, his eyes locked.
Anderson chuckled darkly, rolling his shoulders as his aura shifted from playful to dangerous, the air tightening like a bowstring between them.
"You’re a Knight One?" he blurted out as he felt the weight of Lumberling’s presence. His smirk faltered into a frown, deep lines etching his brow. This guy was him? Impossible.
Lumberling narrowed his eyes, spear steady at his side. But he wasn’t going to be the one to flinch.
"And you’re a Knight One too," He replied evenly.
For a mont, neither moved. Their gazes locked, two predators asuring the other. Then steel t steel again.
Anderson swung his massive broadsword in a wide arc, faster than a blade that size should ever move. The force of it cracked the earth, sparks flying as it slamd against Lumberling’s spear shaft.
The shock jarred through Lumberling’s arms. ’He’s faster than ... stronger too.’
Anderson ca on like a storm breaking loose. His broadsword carved wide arcs, each swing whistling through the air with the weight of a falling tree. Yet there was no waste in his movents, every strike snapped into place, blade twisting just enough to redirect, footwork flowing in tight circles. He wasn’t swinging blindly. He was dissecting.
Clang!
The broadsword slamd against Lumberling’s spear shaft, sparks leaping as the force jolted down his arms. He staggered half a step, teeth clenching, and whipped the spear back into guard just as the next blow ca.
Clang, clang, clang!
Steel rang in rapid succession. Lumberling twisted his wrists, parrying one cut high, snapping his spear butt low to deflect another. His feet slid through churned mud.
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