As the months passed, Beatrice found herself gradually overcoming the weight of her father's passing. She made a silent promise to herself and her kingdom: to do her utmost to protect Iron Hall and its people.
With Orvell's unwavering support and the camaraderie of their quartet, Beatrice regained her resolve. She emerged from her solitude with newfound determination, ready to take on the responsibilities of her role as queen.
In the halls of Iron Hall, Beatrice addressed her people with strength and compassion, assuring them of her commitment to their well-being and the prosperity of their kingdom. The support of her companions and the love she shared with Orvell buoyed her spirits, guiding her through the challenges that lay ahead.
Together, the quartet stood firm, their bond strengthened by adversity and the shared desire to protect what they held dear. Beatrice's transformation into a resolute and capable ruler inspired hope and confidence among her subjects, marking the beginning of a new era for Iron Hall under her reign.
As they celebrated Beatrice's ascent to the throne of Iron Hall, the castle buzzed with revelry and joy. The grand halls echoed with music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses as nobles and commoners alike joined in the festivities.
Beatrice, adorned in regal attire, greeted her guests with grace and warmth. Orvell stood proudly by her side, his gaze filled with admiration for his beloved. The quartet mingled with the crowd, sharing in the jubilation of their friend's coronation.
Amidst the merriment, Beatrice delivered a heartfelt speech, expressing her gratitude and outlining her vision for Iron Hall—a kingdom united in strength and prosperity. Her words resonated with the crowd, instilling confidence and hope in the future.
As the night unfolded, dancers twirled across the ballroom floor, musicians played lively tunes, and tables overflowed with sumptuous feasts. The atmosphere was electric with excitement and anticipation, a testament to the unity and resilience of Iron Hall under its new ruler.
Throughout the festivities, Beatrice's eyes often met Orvell's, their unspoken connection a testament to their enduring bond. As they danced beneath the twinkling lights, surrounded by friends and well-wishers, Beatrice felt a profound sense of purpose and determination to honor her father's legacy and lead with compassion and strength.
As the celebration continued, Orvell sought a quiet moment with Beatrice amidst the garden of her favorite flowers, the vibrant tulips swaying gently in the evening breeze. With a nervous yet determined expression, Orvell took Beatrice's hand and led her to a secluded spot illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns.
"Beatrice," Orvell began, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I've been waiting for the perfect moment, and tonight feels right. With the help of our friends, we've created something special."
Beatrice's eyes widened in surprise as Orvell knelt before her, his gaze unwavering. "You've brought so much light into my life," he continued, his tone earnest. "I want to spend every moment with you, facing whatever challenges come our way."
He reached into his pocket, revealing a delicate ring adorned with a sparkling gemstone. "Beatrice, will you marry me?" Orvell asked, his heart racing with anticipation.
Tears glistened in Beatrice's eyes as she looked down at Orvell, overcome with emotion. "Orvell, yes," she replied, her voice filled with joy and love. "A thousand times yes."
The garden seemed to echo their happiness as Minerva conjured a spectacular display of lights overhead, painting the sky with a dazzling array of colors. The quartet, gathered nearby, erupted into cheers and applause, celebrating the union of two hearts entwined in a journey of courage and devotion.
In that moment beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of friendship, Beatrice and Orvell embraced, their hearts filled with hope and the promise of a future filled with love and adventure.
Amidst the jubilant cheers and applause of the gathered people of Iron Hall, Beatrice and Orvell stood together, their hands clasped in a shared moment of joy and unity. The courtyard of the castle was filled with lanterns casting a warm glow, and the air was filled with excitement and celebration.
"Long live the King and Queen!" shouted the crowd, raising their goblets and toasting to the newly engaged couple.
Beatrice's heart swelled with gratitude as she looked out at the sea of faces, the people she was now entrusted to lead. Orvell stood beside her, his expression one of quiet pride and determination.
"To Iron Hall!" Orvell proclaimed, raising his own goblet high. "May our kingdom flourish under the reign of our beloved Queen Beatrice!"
Before the cheerful gathering, a figure cloaked in shadows emerged from the outskirts of the courtyard. The air seemed to chill as his hooded figure approached, his voice low and ominous.
"You think you're fit to rule, Orvell?" the mysterious man sneered, his words cutting through the festive atmosphere.
Orvell's expression hardened, his gaze narrowing at the stranger's disrespectful tone. "Who are you?" he demanded, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.
The man's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "Just a concerned citizen," he replied cryptically. "But mark my words, you won't last long as king."
The tension in the courtyard was palpable as the onlookers glanced nervously at one another. Beatrice stepped forward, her voice firm yet composed. "You're not welcome here," she asserted, her tone carrying the weight of her newfound authority.
Before the assembled crowd, the mysterious figure stepped forward, pulling back his hood to reveal his identity. Gasps rippled through the audience as they recognized Duke Enmity, his scarred visage twisted into a malevolent grin.
"Duke…" Orvell's voice was a mixture of surprise and disdain.
Duke Enmity's eyes gleamed with malice as he addressed the gathering. "You think you're fit to rule, Orvell?" His words were laced with venom, aimed directly at the newly engaged couple.
Beatrice's expression hardened, her gaze unwavering. "What do you want, Duke Enmity?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the tension.
The rogue adventurer chuckled darkly. "Just paying my respects to the future king and queen," he replied mockingly. "Though I doubt you'll last long on the throne."
Orvell's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, but he refrained from drawing it. "Leave now," he warned, his voice low and commanding.
Duke then drew his sword from his back and began his rampage, killing those around him. Orvell then jumps into Dukes face with his shield but Duke was able to withstand Orvells shield attack. Orvells armor, and sword revealed itself from the magic that Orvell possessed.
Orvell and Beatrice quickly called out to the people in the halls, urging them to evacuate to safety. The urgency in their voices conveyed the seriousness of the situation, and the crowd began to disperse, albeit with confusion and concern writ large on their faces.
Meanwhile, Orvell and Duke locked eyes, their swords at the ready. The air crackled with tension as they circled each other, the clashing of steel echoing in the vast hall. Orvell's gaze was resolute, his focus unwavering as he prepared to confront the rogue adventurer who now threatened the peace of Iron Hall.
"Beatrice, Minerva, Bjarni—get everyone out of here," Orvell commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We'll handle this."
Beatrice nodded, her expression a mix of determination and worry. She motioned for Minerva and Bjarni to assist her in guiding the remaining onlookers toward the exits. The quartet's swift coordination helped to swiftly clear the hall, leaving only Orvell and Duke facing each other in the tense silence.
As the last of the bystanders hurried out, Orvell and Duke squared off, the weight of their conflict bearing down upon them. The hall seemed to shrink around them, narrowing to the space between their blades. Orvell took a deep breath, steadying himself for the clash that was about to unfold.
Orvell and Duke continued their intense duel, their movements precise and calculated. Each strike was met with a swift parry or counter, the clash of their swords reverberating through the hall. Sparks flew with each collision, illuminating the determined expressions etched on their faces.
The onlookers had been safely evacuated, leaving the combatants to engage in their fierce battle in the echoing expanse of the now-deserted hall. Orvell's skillful swordsmanship was matched by Duke's cunning and aggression, creating a tense stalemate between the two adversaries.
Beatrice, Minerva, and Bjarni watched from a safe distance, their concern palpable. They knew the stakes of this confrontation and the gravity of the conflict unfolding before them. Despite the chaos, their trust in Orvell's abilities remain unwavering.
Time seemed to stretch as the duel raged on, neither combatant yielding an inch. Orvell's resolve remained steadfast, his movements fluid and controlled. Duke, fueled by his own motives, pressed the attack with relentless ferocity, determined to achieve his goals at any cost.
The clash between Orvell and Duke was not merely a physical confrontation; it was a clash of wills, each driven by their own convictions and history. As they circled each other, the tension thickened, the outcome uncertain in the heat of the moment.
The quartet remained poised, ready to intervene if necessary, but for now, they could only watch as the battle of blades played out in the heart of Iron Hall. The fate of their kingdom hung in the balance, the echoes of conflict resonating through the grand halls of power.
In a synchronized display of teamwork, the quartet closed in around Duke, their movements coordinated and precise. Orvell took the lead, his swordsmanship skillfully deflecting Duke's aggressive strikes. Meanwhile, Beatrice wielded her greatsword with powerful sweeps, aiming to create openings for her allies. Minerva stayed back, weaving intricate spells to harry Duke's defenses, while Bjarni utilized his raw strength to pin Duke down.
Duke, clearly outnumbered, fought with wild ferocity, his attacks aimed at exploiting any opening in their defenses. The quartet, however, worked seamlessly together, their movements flowing in unison as they sought to subdue their adversary without causing lasting harm.
Orvell's sword clashed against Duke's blade, the sound of metal ringing through the hall. Beatrice's greatsword swung with precision, forcing Duke to constantly shift his focus between the quartet's combined assault. Minerva's spells crackled and burst around them, creating a chaotic backdrop of magical energy, while Bjarni's relentless attacks kept Duke on the defensive.
As the battle wore on, Duke's attacks grew more desperate, his movements becoming increasingly erratic. Despite their efforts, the quartet struggled to gain a decisive advantage, each member drawing on their unique skills to maintain the upper hand.
"We need to end this," Beatrice called out, her voice strained but determined.
Orvell nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on Duke. "Let's bring this to a close," he replied, his voice steady.
Minerva unleashed a flurry of magical bolts, aiming to distract Duke and create an opening. "Keep the pressure on!" she urged, her concentration unyielding.
Bjarni, his fists pounding against Duke's defenses, grunted in response. "No more games," he growled, his eyes fixed on their adversary.
The quartet pressed forward, their resolve unshaken despite the intensity of the battle. With their combined efforts, they sought to bring an end to the confrontation with Duke, hoping to restore peace to Iron Hall once and for all.
Duke's swordsmanship prowess was formidable, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Each swing seemed calculated to exploit even the slightest opening in the quartet's defenses, his attacks unrelenting and precise.
Orvell, Beatrice, Minerva, and Bjarni found themselves on the defensive, their weapons and spells struggling to counter Duke's relentless assault. His strikes were swift and efficient, the steel of his blade seeming to slip effortlessly through any attempt to block or parry.
Orvell grunted as Duke's blade narrowly missed his shoulder, the force of the strike sending him staggering back. Beatrice swung her greatsword in a wide arc, but Duke anticipated her move, his blade intercepting hers with uncanny accuracy. Minerva conjured a protective barrier, but Duke's strikes were so swift that they bypassed her magical defenses.
Bjarni, known for his physical resilience, braced himself against Duke's onslaught, but even his extraordinary strength struggled against the precision of Duke's attacks. Each clash of steel echoed through the hall, the quartet's movements growing more strained as they attempted to counter Duke's deadly swordsmanship.
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"We need to change our approach," Orvell called out, his voice urgent as he parried another of Duke's strikes.
Beatrice nodded grimly, her eyes narrowing as she adjusted her stance. "We can't keep playing defense," she replied, her grip tightening on her greatsword.
Minerva's brow furrowed in concentration, her mind racing for a strategy. "I'll try to disrupt his focus," she suggested, her fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air.
Bjarni grunted in agreement, his fists clenched. "Let's show him what we're made of," he growled, his gaze locked on Duke.
As Duke pressed forward with renewed intensity, the quartet adjusted their tactics, aiming to regain the initiative in the battle. With their combined skills and determination, they sought to turn the tide against their formidable opponent, determined to emerge victorious from the confrontation.
Duke's sword skills were unlike anything the quartet had faced before. His longsword seemed to phase through defenses, catching them off guard with each strike. Orvell barely managed to deflect a blow aimed at his chest, the force of the attack sending him staggering backward.
Beatrice swung her greatsword with all her might, but Duke's blade passed through her guard as if it were mere air. She gritted her teeth, frustration etched on her face as she struggled to counter his unpredictable attacks.
Minerva summoned arcane barriers, attempting to intercept Duke's strikes, but the phasing ability of his sword made her defensive spells ineffective. Bjarni attempted to grapple with Duke, but the rogue adventurer's agility allowed him to evade the dwarf's attempts.
"We need to find a weakness!" Orvell shouted over the clash of steel.
Beatrice nodded, her mind racing for a strategy. "He's exploiting our blocks. We need to outmaneuver him."
Minerva's eyes flashed with determination as she analyzed Duke's movements. "His attacks are precise, but they leave openings. We just need to find them."
Bjarni roared in frustration, his fists clenched as he prepared to charge once more.
As Duke pressed his advantage, the quartet fought back with renewed determination. Orvell sought to anticipate Duke's strikes, looking for patterns in his attacks. Beatrice adjusted her tactics, focusing on dodging and countering instead of direct blocks. Minerva concentrated her spells, aiming to disrupt Duke's concentration and exploit his openings. Bjarni used his raw strength to keep Duke on the defensive, aiming to wear him down with each exchange.
The battle raged on, the quartet's resolve unbroken despite the relentless assault. Each member of the group pushed themselves to their limits, seeking to overcome Duke's formidable skills and turn the tide of the fight in their favor.
Duke's relentless assault began to take its toll on the quartet. Orvell staggered back from a particularly forceful strike, his arm showing signs of strain from parrying Duke's blade. Beatrice gritted her teeth, feeling the impact of Duke's attacks resonate through her arms with each clash of steel. Minerva focused on maintaining her spells amidst the chaos, her concentration tested by Duke's rapid movements. Bjarni's muscles strained as he grappled with Duke, his efforts to restrain the agile rogue growing more difficult with each passing moment.
Despite their best efforts, Duke's precision and speed kept them on the defensive. The quartet exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them as they regrouped amid the swirling melee.
"We need a different approach," Orvell called out, his voice strained but resolute.
Beatrice nodded, a determined gleam in her eyes. "Let's focus on coordinated strikes. We can't let him dictate the pace."
Minerva adjusted her tactics, conjuring elemental barriers to disrupt Duke's attacks. "I'll create openings. Strike when you see them!"
Bjarni grunted in agreement, his bear-like strength lending weight to their efforts. "We'll overwhelm him with our combined might."
With a shared resolve, the quartet adjusted their strategy. Orvell engaged Duke head-on, drawing his attention with precise strikes aimed at testing Duke's defenses. Beatrice circled around, waiting for an opportunity to flank and strike from an unexpected angle. Minerva unleashed a barrage of spells, her arcane prowess keeping Duke off balance and preventing him from focusing solely on one opponent. Bjarni positioned himself strategically, ready to capitalize on any openings created by his companions.
As the quartet pressed their coordinated assault, Duke found himself facing a more unified front. Their teamwork began to pay off, forcing Duke to defend against multiple angles of attack. Despite the grueling battle, the quartet's determination remained unwavering, each member drawing strength from their camaraderie and shared purpose.
The fight continued, the clash of steel echoing through the hall as the quartet sought to turn the tide against their formidable adversary.
Duke's words cut through the intensity of battle like a chilling wind. Pausing momentarily in the midst of combat, he fixed each member of the quartet with a steely gaze, his voice laced with mocking confidence.
"You think you can challenge me? A band of misfits, posing as heroes," Duke taunted, his smirk betraying a hint of disdain. "Your little victories have made you arrogant, but true strength is something you'll never possess."
Orvell narrowed his eyes, refusing to let Duke's words unsettle him. "We've faced worse than you," he retorted, his voice edged with determination. "Your arrogance blinds you."
Beatrice's grip tightened around her sword, her expression unyielding. "We fight for more than ourselves," she declared, her tone unwavering despite Duke's attempt to sow doubt.
Minerva focused her gaze, channeling her magic with renewed resolve. "Your words won't break us," she replied calmly, her composure unwavering amidst Duke's taunts.
Bjarni's expression hardened, his resolve bolstered by the quartet's shared determination. "We're not backing down," he growled, meeting Duke's gaze with unwavering defiance.
Duke's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. "We'll see how long that bravado lasts," he quipped, launching into a renewed onslaught of strikes with renewed vigor.
Refusing to succumb to doubt, the quartet pressed on, their determination to overcome Duke's arrogance fueling their every move.
Duke's relentless assault took its toll, downing three of the quartet with swift and calculated strikes. As Beatrice, Minerva, and Orvell lay momentarily incapacitated, Bjarni stood alone against Duke's overpowering presence.
Their clash persisted for a grueling hour, the clash of steel echoing through the hall. Bjarni fought with unparalleled ferocity, his bear-like strength matched only by his unwavering determination. But despite his resilience, Duke's superior skill and cunning began to wear down the stalwart dwarf.
With a final, decisive strike, Duke disarmed Bjarni, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. Gasping for breath, Bjarni staggered back, his gaze locked with Duke's unwavering stare. The battle had taken its toll, and the dwarf knew he was outmatched.
Duke's triumphant smirk widened as he closed in on his weary adversary. "You fought well," he remarked, his tone laced with condescending praise. "But your time has come to an end."
Bjarni straightened, refusing to yield even in the face of defeat. "I'll never submit to you," he growled defiantly, his eyes blazing with unyielding resolve.
Duke's sword swept through the air, swift and deadly, as he delivered the final blow. Bjarni's valiant struggle came to an end, and he collapsed to the ground, his spirit unbroken even in defeat.
As the echoes of battle faded, Duke surveyed the fallen quartet with a cold satisfaction. "Know your place," he declared, his gaze lingering on his vanquished opponents before he turned and vanished into the shadows.
The hall fell silent, the quartet left battered but unbroken, their resolve undiminished in the face of adversity. As they gathered their strength and tended to their wounds, a newfound determination burned within them—to rise again and face Duke once more.
With the death of Bjarni the trio became enraged, especially Orvell who began to swing his sword with rage at Duke.
Orvell's fury blazed like a consuming fire as he unleashed a torrent of strikes against Duke, his sword flashing with relentless determination. Each swing carried the weight of Bjarni's sacrifice, fueling Orvell's rage with an unyielding resolve.
Beatrice and Minerva, their grief transformed into steely resolve, joined the fray alongside Orvell. Together, they coordinated their attacks with precision, seeking to overwhelm Duke with their combined strength and determination.
Duke, ever the seasoned adversary, parried their blows with calculated grace, his expression remaining eerily composed amid the chaos. His taunts and jibes fell on deaf ears as the trio pressed forward, their hearts filled with a singular purpose—to avenge their fallen comrade.
The clash of steel echoed through the hall, a symphony of defiance against Duke's tyranny. Orvell's strikes grew more ferocious with each passing moment, driven by an unrelenting thirst for justice. Beatrice's greatsword cleaved through the air with unwavering precision, while Minerva's arcane prowess weaved a tapestry of spells that crackled and surged around them.
Yet, despite their concerted efforts, Duke remained a formidable opponent, his swordsmanship unmatched and his resolve unshaken. With a sudden burst of energy, Duke retaliated, forcing the trio back with a calculated display of skill and power.
As the battle raged on, the trio's emotions surged—a whirlwind of grief, anger, and determination propelling them forward. Bjarni's sacrifice fueled their every strike, a reminder of the cost of their quest for justice.
Through sheer tenacity, the trio continued to press Duke, refusing to yield even in the face of overwhelming odds. Each clash of their blades was a testament to their unbreakable spirit, their bond forged in the crucible of battle.
The fight seemed to stretch on endlessly, the trio's exhaustion matched only by their unwavering resolve.
Duke then was able to down Orvell to where he was badly hurt. Which caused Beatrice and Minerva double teamed Duke but Duke was too strong for the both of them.
Despite their valiant efforts, Duke's prowess was too much for Beatrice and Minerva to handle alone. The air crackled with arcane energy as Minerva unleashed a barrage of spells, while Beatrice's greatsword cleaved through the air with unmatched strength. However, Duke's agility and precision allowed him to evade their attacks with uncanny grace.
With Orvell badly injured and unable to continue, Beatrice and Minerva regrouped, their determination unwavering despite the odds stacked against them. They exchanged a glance filled with unspoken resolve, a silent agreement to stand their ground against the relentless onslaught.
Duke, sensing victory within his grasp, pressed his advantage. His attacks were a symphony of precision, his blade moving with lethal efficiency. Beatrice and Minerva defended themselves with grit and determination, their movements synchronized as they sought to exploit any opening.
As the battle intensified, Beatrice and Minerva drew upon their bond, their trust in each other guiding their every move. With a shared glance, they coordinated their attacks, their combined strength momentarily catching Duke off guard.
However, Duke quickly regained his composure, countering their assault with a series of calculated strikes. The trio's struggle echoed through the hall, the clash of steel punctuated by bursts of arcane energy and the resolute determination of their voices.
Despite their best efforts, the trio found themselves on the defensive, each blow from Duke carrying the weight of his formidable skill. Yet, even in the face of defeat, Beatrice and Minerva refused to yield, their resolve unbroken as they fought with everything they had.
As the battle reached its crescendo, a surge of determination surged within Beatrice and Minerva. They drew upon their inner strength, their bond as comrades shining through the chaos. Together, they launched a final, desperate assault, hoping to turn the tide against Duke's relentless assault.
Beatrice then cast her Rime skill that allowed her to engulf her armor in frost, and her sword covered in ice. Whereas Minerva tapped into her dark magic but even then Duke was able to withstand their attacks as he was still better skilled than they were.
As Beatrice's armor shimmered with frost and her sword became encased in ice, Minerva tapped into the depths of her dark magic, unleashing arcane energies with intense focus. The air crackled with elemental power as they renewed their assault on Duke, their attacks carrying the weight of their determination.
Duke, undeterred by the onslaught, parried each strike with practiced precision. His blade danced through the air, a testament to his formidable skill and experience. Despite the trio's coordinated efforts, Duke's agility and mastery of combat allowed him to evade their attacks with remarkable ease.
Beatrice and Minerva fought with unwavering resolve, their eyes locked on their adversary. They exchanged glances filled with determination, their shared bond strengthening their resolve. Yet, with each clash, Duke's superiority became more apparent, his defense impenetrable against their combined assault.
As the battle raged on, Beatrice and Minerva dug deep, drawing upon every ounce of their strength and skill. Their attacks grew more ferocious, fueled by their desire to overcome Duke's overwhelming prowess. However, Duke's calculated maneuvers and tactical prowess continued to thwart their every move.
Despite the grim odds, Beatrice and Minerva refused to relent. They fought with the fervor of those who refused to yield, their hearts united in the face of adversity. With each strike, they pushed themselves to their limits, their determination unwavering even as Duke remained firmly in control of the duel.
As Duke's blade swept through the air, Beatrice and Minerva found themselves momentarily overwhelmed by his relentless assault. With a swift and calculated strike, Duke's sword struck true, sending them tumbling into the surrounding debris and rubble.
The impact left Beatrice and Minerva unconscious, their bodies sprawled among the ruins of the hall. Orvell, still recovering from the brutal confrontation, slowly rose to his feet, his expression a mask of restrained fury. He tightened his grip on his sword, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Duke.
With a deep breath, Orvell steadied himself, his resolve hardening. He glared at Duke with unyielding determination, his eyes filled with a burning intensity that matched the fury in his heart.
Duke surveyed the scene with a triumphant smirk, his gaze lingering on the fallen quartet. "Is this the best Iron Hall has to offer?" he jeered, his voice echoing through the hall.
Orvell's jaw tightened as he squared off against Duke once more, his gaze unwavering. Without a word, he charged forward, his sword poised for vengeance.
Duke readied himself, his expression shifting from arrogance to wary anticipation. The clash of steel echoed through the hall as the battle between Orvell and Duke resumed, each blow resonating with the weight of their shared history and unresolved conflict.
As the battle reached its zenith, Duke's skillful maneuvers gained the upper hand. With a swift and precise strike, he landed a fatal blow on Orvell, who staggered and fell to the ground, his strength failing him. The impact reverberated through the hall, the weight of the moment palpable in the stunned silence that followed.
Beatrice and Minerva, still regaining their senses, looked on in horror as Orvell collapsed. Beatrice's eyes widened in shock, her heart clenching with anguish. Minerva's expression hardened with determination, her mind racing for a way to turn the tide.
Duke stood over Orvell, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Your best was never enough," he taunted, his voice laced with disdain.
Orvell, struggling to maintain consciousness, met Duke's gaze with unwavering defiance. Despite his injuries, a flicker of resolve burned in his eyes.
Beatrice scrambled to Orvell's side, her hands trembling as she tried to staunch the flow of blood. "Orvell, stay with us," she pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.
Minerva, her dark magic surging with newfound intensity, rose to confront Duke once more. "You'll pay for this," she vowed, her tone laced with determination.
Duke regarded them with cold indifference, his gaze flitting between the quartet. "It's time you learned your place," he sneered, his arrogance unyielding.
The quartet, battered but undeterred, prepared to make their final stand against Duke, their resolve unbroken even in the face of overwhelming odds.