The commander narrowed his eyes. "You’re using magic?"
Krivex didn’t answer. Instead, he raised his bow again, the faint hum of wind echoing with each drawn arrow.
Three arrows flew.
The commander smirked, twisting his body aside. "Too slow!" he said as the arrows zipped past harmlessly.
But then...
Whish.
The wind howled again.
The arrows that had missed suddenly curved midair, bending around him like guided blades. His smirk vanished, eyes widening as the first pierced his shoulder, then another two struck his back.
He staggered forward, disbelief written on his face.
’How...? I clearly avoided them...’
The commander’s knees buckled, but he still managed to raise his bow.
He released another arrow, and Krivex answered with one of his own. Both projectiles sliced through the air, eting in the middle with a sharp crack before veering off.
Krivex leaped onto a fallen cart for higher ground, his cloak whipping around him. The commander dashed sideways, rolling across the dirt, and fired upward in retaliation.
Then, Krivex’s hand flickered with faint green light once again. Two arrows flew at once, slicing through the smoke.
The commander twisted his body, barely dodging. He hissed, until the arrows curved in midair, bending unnaturally as if guided by an unseen hand.
"What...?"
They struck him once again, one in the side and one grazing his cheek. Blood splattered across the dirt. Still, he didn’t fall. Gritting his teeth, he fired back, refusing to give in.
Krivex ducked behind a corpse, then reappeared from the other side, his movent swift as wind itself. Another volley of arrows followed, this ti, the commander kept his eyes locked on them, tracking every motion.
But that was the mistake.
A faint spark flared behind him. His pupils widened just before a fireball exploded at his back, flas engulfing the ground and throwing him forward.
Krivex didn’t stop. He released another rain of arrows, one after another, each one finding its mark. The commander fell to his knees, his armor burned and pierced.
Krivex approached slowly, steps calm and steady.
The commander coughed blood but forced a smirk. "It was the wind... wasn’t it? You’re a mage... a dual mage of wind and fire." He let out a dry laugh, voice trembling. "A monster that’s also a mage... now that’s sothing I didn’t expect."
Krivex stopped beside him, eyes cold and unreadable. "You don’t need to know."
He raised his hand and struck the commander across the neck’s side with the hilt of his short sword, knocking him unconscious in one swift motion.
.....
Aren tightened his grip on the spear, breath shallow from the pain in his left shoulder. A ragged red line showed where the enemy’s spear had pierced him. Dirt and blood streaked his face, but his eyes were steady.
Across from him, the commander stood tall on his horse, only a few bruises and dents marring his armor. He looked down at Aren with a confident smile. He was a Mid-Knight One Stage, a lot stronger compared to the newly promoted captain.
Aren drew in a slow breath and let his mana flow. Little sparks crawled across his skin, then gathered, bright and restless. Lightning crackled along his arm and coiled around his spear like living energy.
The commander’s eyebrows rose. He glanced at the electricity dancing on Aren’s weapon, then back at the man who held it. Surprise warped his earlier smile.
"You’re a mage?" he called out, disbelief lacing his voice. He planted his feet, spear ready. "That won’t change a thing. I’ll tear you apart."
Aren didn’t answer. His grip tightened on the spear, knuckles pale against the shaft. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he didn’t flinch. Lightning humd around him, soft at first, like a storm breathing in.
Then he moved.
A flash.
A burst of thunder.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he vanished, leaving only a streak of blue-white light in his wake. The commander’s eyes darted around, heart hamring as sparks scattered through the smoke.
A flicker to his left.
Another to his right.
Then...
Clang!
He swung his spear, eting only empty air.
Aren’s form blurred again, reappearing behind him for a heartbeat before vanishing. Every movent was unpredictable, his figure flashing in and out of sight like a storm given form.
The technique wasn’t perfect, but it carried his Lord’s mark, the sa devastating rhythm Lumberling once showed him.
"You’ll have to be faster than that," Aren muttered, his voice echoing from every direction.
The commander turned wildly, parrying again, sparks flying as tal t tal. But with each deflection, new cuts opened across his armor, small but relentless. Lightning wrapped around Aren’s spear each ti he struck, burning trails into the air and shocking the commander’s limbs.
"Stay still, you cursed thing!" the commander roared, thrusting forward.
Aren’s body twisted aside, his movent blindingly fast. Then, in one motion, he jumped high, electricity spiraling around him like a storm ready to burst.
From above, the commander looked up and saw only a blinding light descending.
Aren roared, driving his broken spear down with all his strength.
BOOM!
The ground split. A shockwave blasted outward, dust and debris scattering across the battlefield.
When the smoke cleared, Aren stood panting, lightning fading from his limbs. Blood dripped from his side, his shoulder trembling from the force he’d unleashed. And his spear had snapped in half.
Across from him, the commander was still standing, but barely. His armor was torn open at the chest, a deep wound just shy of piercing through. He coughed, blood spilling down his chin, but a small, prideful smile ford.
"You’re still green to fight ... monster," he said, voice raspy yet full of defiance.
Aren’s head tilted slightly, his breathing rough. But before he could speak...
A voice whispered right behind the commander’s ear, cold and mocking.
"Then what about ?"
Before the man could even turn, twin daggers flashed. Slash! The blades tore downward, cutting through tal and flesh alike. Blood sprayed as the commander staggered forward, barely holding onto his spear.
"You... you coward..." he spat, voice trembling in pain and disbelief.
Skitz only grinned, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. "Coward? You can’t expect an assassin to announce himself before striking." He twirled his daggers, then snapped his fingers.
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