The Pencari, who had charged to face off its prey, saw a splash of blood before realizing someone had stabbed him. A guttural breath departed his mouth as his entire being shut down. The others behind him held wild eyes as their accomplice laid limp on the glimmering longsword. A seven-foot man decked in white, solid metal armor glowered at the dying enemy, his intense draconian stare never leaving them. Returning the weapon to him, the blade drank in the crimson liquid as the lifeless form collapsed to the floor, flickering off the excessive droplets onto the earthy surface.

With a massive shield in one hand, adorned in the Crann Bethadh, the knight rose with a strong posture. Standing solidly at the ready, he spoke. “Raygnar? You ok?”

“I’m alright, Dad!”

Acknowledging it, the knight pointed the blade at the rest of the Pencari that stood there. Their masks hid their facial expressions, but their slow backward movements made their hesitation apparent. The knight seized their fear and capitalized on it. Like a lion pouncing on their kill, his sword came across in a powerful arc.

In a distinct state of fear, one of the Pencari invoked the many shadows surrounding them, their movements controlled like marionettes. As it was a crude ability of sorcery, the dark enchantment seemed to move haphazardly and unpredictably. As he was expecting such, the knight endeavored to avoid the sudden pounce from the puppets. The magical concoction tried to grapple him; the two simultaneous attacks that could easily disorient anyone unprepared.

However, the knight seized momentum and pushed the puppets aside using his shield. Springing over the motionless corpse, he propelled himself towards the rest of the opponents. In a wild fit of panic, a mystical projectile materialized out of the Pencari’s hands to knock him back. The knight responded with a swift slash, deflecting it like a ball back to them. It erupted in a burst of energy as it collided with the ground, stunning them for a split second.

The knight had ample time to reach them; landing on one with heavy force. Under his weight, he could hear the ribs cracking from under him. A shrill cry came out of their lips as they quivered uncontrollably from the immense pain. The last one dropped to his knees in shock, never witnessing an adversary move so swiftly before. Unhesitatingly, the knight swiftly struck down the injured Pencari, ending his life. As his balance faltered and he fell on his backside, the last member stumbled back from the power in his attack.

Noticing the only one, the knight aimed the bloodied longsword at his neck. With an icy gaze, the knight addressed the remaining Pencari. Relay this to your commander: The Draconic Elves are done playing nice now you got the commander’s son involved. If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to finish you. Do you understand?The enemy shook in fear, unable to contain himself as he crawled backward, away from the knight. His form trembled at the thought of death. Taking advantage of the warning, the Pencari fled with loud blubbering.

The knight sheathed his sword, feeling his body ease as the enemies were no more. He returned to his son’s side, observing his son peering into his cart. Once the danger vanished, the knight observed their surroundings. In his thoughts, he pondered if it was an abandoned human building. As he neared his son, he hovered on the brink of speaking when he comprehended his son’s fixation on something... or maybe even engaging with. Their eyes met, and he saw the elderly woman and group of children wearing the same expression of disbelief.

Mrs. Stark assessed the man who emerged from the glowing light, protecting them like a fairytale. If the aged skin, massive height, and steely eyes the knight carried were absent, he would be indistinguishable from Raygnar. The knight whispered to Raygnar, “I want an explanation when we get out of here.”

“That was eminent from your staring, Dad.” He responded, giving Mrs. Stark a soft smile as an indirect introduction. Raygnar took the reins and waited for his Dad to join him. Once on, the horse obeyed its driver’s directions and trotted out of the stables. Mrs. Stark scooted close to Raygnar and spoke, “Dear, we need to get to the gorge!”

“The gorge?”

“That’s where most of the people would’ve run to. We had a secret exit in case there was an attack like this, and that exit leads to the gorge. I implore we go there, please.”

Raygnar casted a quick glance back to his dad, who sat cross-legged; Given the limited information, the knight was aware he had to make a decision. For his son was ever indecisive about such hard matters. With direct eye contact on Mrs. Stark, he interjected, “Ma’am, how far away is this place? Do you believe they’ll be okay until we arrive?”

“If they follow the instructions given, I am sure they should be safe for a while,” Mrs. Stark induced, trying to ignore the blaring crackles of buildings ablaze at the distance. The knight gazed at the torrid landscape and narrowed his eyes. “Raygnar, do you have your magics left?”

“I do…why?”

The knight directed his attention to the noises; hearing the cries of battle and carnage, the conjuration of dark sorcery that threatened to engulf the remaining structures not yet victim of the flames.. “How strong are humans, son?”

“Strong?” Raygnar repeated as his cart got closer to the cavern passageways. “I am only aware of a few men who possess that strength...I’m unsure about the others.”

“It’s settled,” the knight got up and leaped off the cart. “I am staying here to see to the ones left behind fighting. Raygnar, go to this gorge and I will meet you there.”

“But how? We don’t know where it is.” Raygnar pointed at himself and his father. “I think it’s best you come with us!”

Holding out a piece of paper, Mrs. Stark offered it to the knight. Her nervousness was evident in her fumbling hands, avoiding his gaze. “Here. I kept this for the children in case something happened, but…I will be with them.” She felt the knight tenderly grab it, sensing her nervousness. “it’s directions on where the exit is and how to get out. You might need a torch because it is not lit.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” the knight nodded to her; aware of her uneasiness. He then whacked the cart, “go Raygnar!” He then ran off toward the battle ahead, leaving the cart to enter the dark cavern path ahead. Raygnar got his horse to go from a trot to a canter further from the combat, heeding Mrs. Stark’s instructions on the gorge. Despite his uncertainty, he had one thing in mind as his father departed.

Father became a leader for a reason… I need to trust him in this.

----------------------------------------

The deprecated church walls fell down from the slam of an individual. Just in time, Huon managed to roll away from the collapsing stone. As he got himself up, his body screamed to rest but he knew he needed to give his community as much time as possible. He accepted the dance with his demise. Brandishing his battleaxe with newfound ferocity, he charged forward again with a scream of rage, but the unmasked Pencari remained unphased.

The opponent raised his deadly weapon, his platinum blonde hair flowing in the wind as he too engaged in combat. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying from the contact. Their strength was equal, and neither would back down. They broke apart and circled each other, looking for an opening.

The elf struck first, his sword lashing out like a viper. Huon narrowly avoided the attack, although he was aware of the sharpness of the weapon grazing his cheek. He retaliated with a swing of his axe, aiming for the skull. The elf ducked and slashed at his midsection, causing him to leap back just before it was too late.

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They battled for what seemed like an eternity, neither achieving dominance. The air was thick with tension, and the sweat on Huon’s brow told of his impending fatigue. Baring his teeth, he gripped his axe tight and lunged forward once more, throwing all of his weight behind the blow. The Pencari expected it, dodging and countering with a jab of his own. The tip of the blade pierced Huon’s shoulder, eliciting a cry of anguish from his lips. He stumbled backwards, hissing as the crimson fluid flowed from his wound.

“Give up,” the unmasked Pencari spoke in a monotone.

Huon shook his head. “No.” He steadied himself, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "I won’t let you hurt those under my care. Not again,” He raised his axe once more. “You damned monstrosities have made us suffer for too long. Unmasked or not, I will enjoy slicing you down to nothin’.”

The Pencari sighed. “Pity that your kind cannot comprehend reason.”

Moving at a velocity that left Huon bewildered, the Pencari brandished his sword and charged ahead. Huon had just a brief moment to raise his axe in defense as he flew back and landed on the shambled benches. Groaning, he fought his aching body to get back into the fight. He glanced upwards to find the enemy staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Huon’s gaze widened as a piercing sensation struck his gut. He looked down to see the sword sticking into his stomach, blood trickling from the wound.

He coughed, crimson staining his lips. “You... piece of shit...” he choked out.

The Pencari stared grimly. “Such resolve from an irritant race such as yours. Perhaps you can provide some use to Glythea.”

Huon struggled against the weight of his enemy, his body falling limp every second. The Pencari reached for his head with his free hand. Huon squirmed and pushed with all his might, but it was no use. He experienced the sensation of his head being gripped, compelled to gaze into the empty eye sockets of his attacker, perceiving only darkness.

“What will it be, human? Bend or Break?”

Huon locked eyes with the Pencari. “Fuck you.”

The Pencari scoffed. “Very well,”

The suffering intensified as the blade twisted inside of him. With swear flowing down his face, Huon screamed in agony. His body threatening to give way, on the verge of blacking out. His mind battled with its dwindling strength. He thought of his people. Of the fear they experienced, how far they had come together, how they stood strong and united as one against all odds. Memories built on unwavering mutual help.

I have... no regrets...

Huon struggled to make out what was happening as the pain overwhelmed his senses. His vision blurred, and he saw only blurs of color and movement. A war cry rang out and the weight holding him down disappeared. He gasped for air, his lungs burning with every breath. His heart skipped a beat as a new intruder had joined in the fray. He witnessed the two exchanging blows, with each impact echoing throughout the sacred space.

The knight blocked an attack with his shield and used the opportunity to counter with a powerful swing of his sword. The Pencari leapt back just in an instant and put some distance between them.

“I assume you’re the leader responsible for all this?” The knight demanded.

The Pencari raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?” He shot back.

The Draconic Elf narrowed his piercing gaze. “My name matters not. Now I will only ask you once more, are you the leader responsible for all this?” He stood confidently, his stance showing no signs of weakness.

The Pencari Leader hesitated, unsure of how to interpret the new arrival. But after a moment he declared, “Do you intend to stop me? To save these pathetic creatures who dare call themselves people? A weak, insignificant race that holds little value save for their servitude toward my people. Your people were wise to stay out of it, but now I assume you have lost your senses to defend parasites?”

The knight growled, gripping his sword tightly and charged forward with a battle cry. The Pencari braced himself and prepared for the impact, but to his surprise, the Draconic Elf veered off course at the last second. He rolled past the Pencari and turned around just in time to catch his opponent off guard with a vicious slash of his sword. The blade caught the Pencari across the chest, causing him to stumble backwards and clutch his wound.

The knight stared grimly at the sword, the blood was soot in color. A consequence for the dappling in black magic “Your blood is tainted, unlike the ones I faced beforehand...”

The Pencari hissed and lunged forward, his fiery stare burning with rage. Their weapons clashed, making sparks fly as steel collided. They traded blows, neither one giving any ground. Both seemed evenly matched, both wielding incredible skill and speed. The Pencari found himself overwhelmed by the sheer strength of his enemy. He was quickly losing ground and being forced back towards the church wall.

The Pencari gritted his teeth. “Enough!” He shouted as he jumped high into the air, somersaulted, and landed behind the Draconic Elf. He twirled around, bringing his sword down in a sweeping arc. The knight barely had time to turn around before bringing up his shield, deflecting the blow. The Pencari went on the offensive, attacking furiously with lightning-fast strikes.

Huon exerted himself to observe the unfolding situation. The enemy and the new fighter engaged in a fierce battle. They were evenly matched, employing identical tactics of strikes and blocks, refusing to yield any ground. Huon observed with amazement as his opponent relentlessly struck his opponent, causing it to be pushed back with each blow. He winced in pain as the battle raged on, but remained attentive. The fight was becoming more intense, and both combatants were slowly reaching their limit.

Exhausted yet determined, the Pencari’s eyes still blazed. But with each strike, the Draconic Elf became more aggressive, showing no signs of fatigue. He swung his sword with a flurry of slashes, pushing the Pencari further back until he had nowhere left to run.

The Pencari retreated deeper into the church, slashing at any debris that came near him. “Dracon, I commend you, but you waste my time.” Sensing a need for a tactical retreat, his body formed into a black mist, flying away from the battle scene. The knight ran forward, trying to catch him, but it was a futile attempt, and he knew it. “Damned elves,” he growled as he became aware of Huon, who was panting on the ground.

Huon coughed violently, blood spewing from his mouth. His vision blurred and his eyes were growing heavy. When he looked up to see a blurry figure standing above him. In his attempt to concentrate, he could not distinguish any particular details. Upon perceiving something pressing against his wound, he became aware that the stranger had removed their gauntlet, revealing pale white skin and scales. “Can you hear me?” The knight asked. Upon observing the wound, the knight realized that the man had limited time before succumbing to it. He was cognizant of the solution: he had some of his wife’s healing salves on him.

Huon groaned in pain as he struggled to sit up. He tried to focus on the figure, but everything seemed fuzzy. His eyes widened as the stranger’s face became clear. “R-Raygnar? W-What the shit?”

“Ah, you are acquainted with my son, then?” He asked while revealing a small jar with a green balm, “so this will be put into excellent use.” Moving it up swiftly with the pale hand, he rubbed it on the wound, making sure it reached every single inch of the gash.

Huon winced in pain as the lotion burned, unable to resist it as the knight continued administering treatment. “Y-You’re not--? B-But how? When? I...” He blinked, barely comprehending what had been told to him.

“Try not to talk too much boy, reserve your breathing.” He closed the lid to the healing salve and puts it away. “There, you should be alright for now until we can look at that thing. Now, are you able to stand?” The knight helped Huon to his feet, keeping a grip on him in case the human needed help. “There is much to discuss, but right now, we need to focus on getting you out of here.”

“Who... the hell are you?” Huon asked, feeling his consciousness fading. Noticing this as well, the knight throws Huon up onto his shoulder, carrying him with ease. “Since you appear to be familiar with my son, I’ll tell you. I am Trevor, and I would ask for your name, but now’s not the time. You are not fit to fight and require treatment.” He sprinted out of the church with no problems, Huon’s mere weight almost next to nothing for him. Before losing consciousness, the warrior realized the noises were dying down, and he wondered if everyone else was ok, and also a curse of his pride being shattered from the rescue.

Damned lizards, he thought as he slipped away, his body going into a stasis.

Hearing the breathing slowing down, Trevor’s concerns were reaching its height. While the salve will give him relief, it cannot replace the blood loss he had been through. As he ran through the ruined streets, he noticed a barrage of black mist making a hasty retreat to the cave his son went through a long while ago. With a frown, he wondered if he should follow. Maybe I should. I cannot trust my son to defend himself, unfortunately.

Despite the many battles around him, the worry for his adult son and the dying man on his shoulder overtook his initial plan. Intent on a tactical retreat, he chased the black mist, unfazed by the maniacal laughter at the distance.