The desperate situation caused the archer to completely lose his composure. With the ice mage incapacitated and screaming in pain, the archer frantically turned to the shadow warrior, seeking some kind of support or intervention. "AREN'T YOU GOING TO HELP US?" The desperation in his voice was palpable, but the only response he received was the oppressive silence of the night, the lack of reaction from the shadow warrior only accentuating the isolation of his situation.

Overcome by panic, he attempted to retreat, his actions driven by the primitive instinct of survival. "I knew this wasn't a good idea!" he exclaimed, his voice lost among the whispers of the forest as he tried to flee from the imminent defeat.

Drake, however, was determined to prevent the aggressors from escaping and avoiding the consequences of their actions. With swift speed, he caught up to the fleeing archer, delivering a punch so strong that it propelled him into a tree. The impact against the tree was brutal, the sound of the archer's arm breaking echoing with a sharp scream that cut through the night.

As the archer fell to the ground, consumed by pain and fear, Drake slowly approached, his stern expression frightening the archer. He conjured a water prison, an orb of water emerged, trapping the archer inside without any chance of escape.

In the moment when tense silence took over the forest, the shadow warrior emerged, a figure whose presence brought a silent threat.

The battle that ensued was of unprecedented intensity, each movement charged with a deadly purpose. The shadow warrior launched attacks that sought a quick end to the confrontation. However, he found an opponent whose determination had been forged in equally dark challenges.

Drake, reenergized by the fairy's magic, faced each attack with precise responses. His agility, enhanced by the magical touch, made him a formidable opponent, dodging and counter-attacking with precision that belied the weight of his previous injuries.

In this clash, there was no room for words or taunts. The only language was that of steel and magic, a sharp conversation where each strike, each dodge, told a story of survival and resistance. Drake's eyes, once twinkling with humor even in the face of danger, now shone with the fire of pure determination. He fought not just for himself, but also for the small fairy, whose life depended on the outcome of this fight.

The battle was far from reaching its end, and Drake was aware that he needed to conclude the confrontation before his forces completely abandoned him. His body only accumulated numerous wounds, but the flame of his determination burned with an indomitable brightness. He was willing to fight until victory was secured, or until darkness enveloped him entirely.

As the first rays of the sun touched the horizon, announcing the arrival of a new day, the battle reached its climax. Drake's unwavering resilience had sustained him until that moment, but the weight of his injuries began to weigh, draining his vital energy. With each confrontation with the shadow warrior, he felt his vigor fading, his movements losing the precision and agility of before.

The shadow warrior, in turn, seemed tireless, his ethereal form dodging and attacking with ghostly efficacy. With each attack Drake attempted, his adversary easily evaded, while his own blades found flesh, inflicting cuts that accumulated pain and despair.

The revitalizing effect of the fairy's magical dust, which had previously brought Drake a new wave of strength, now seemed to fade, its magic unable to sustain the intensity of the prolonged battle.

With his energy waning, Drake felt exhaustion invade every muscle, his blurred vision struggling to focus on the adversary who seemed increasingly like an unattainable shadow.

Realizing Drake's growing vulnerability, the shadow warrior intensified the attack, each movement loaded with the promise of a fatal outcome. Drake, although weakened, desperately tried to raise his water blade, but now his efforts seemed futile, unable to even scratch his enemy.

At this critical moment, with defeat seeming imminent, Drake found himself before the true essence of battle. Even on the verge of collapse, he knew that every breath, every gesture, still counted in the fight.

The battle stretched until the inevitable moment arrived. Drake, after a heroic resistance, succumbed to exhaustion and injuries. His knees buckled under the weight of his body, and he fell, unable to stand or wield his water blade.

The shadow, anticipating its victory, promptly advanced to deliver the final blow. Rising above Drake, the black blade in his hands was the promise of an end.

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But fate still held a twist. As the first rays of the rising sun wove their way through the leaves of the trees, a beam of light bathed the battlefield. The shadow, hit by the golden light, emitted a sharp scream, its form beginning to dissolve like smoke in the wind.

Drake, exhausted beyond measure, watched his adversary's retreat with eyes that could barely stay open. The sunlight, his unexpected savior, brought not only salvation but also the reminder that, after the longest of nights, dawn will always come.

Despite the pain that ravaged every inch of his being, Drake clung to a thread of determination that refused to be extinguished. With an effort, he rose, defying both the pain and the physical limitations imposed by wounds and fractures. Each step towards the fairy's cage was a testament to his resilience, an act of pure will in the face of almost unbearable suffering.

The blurred vision from the blows suffered and the blood that ran down his face only intensified the feeling of fighting not just against the shadows of battle, but against the very abyss of despair. His body, marked and exhausted, seemed moved by something beyond mere physical strength.

Reaching the cage, Drake faced the lock that imprisoned the fairy. Without mana, without any remaining magic to assist him, he resorted to brute force. Blow after blow, he attacked the lock, each impact sending waves of pain through his arm, until, finally, with one last desperate effort, the lock gave way. The blood flowing from his hands was a small price to pay for the fairy's freedom, who immediately flew to the safety of the trees, a sight that brought Drake a sense of duty fulfilled.

Exhausted to the limit of his endurance, Drake managed to drag himself to the nearest tree. Leaning against it, he fell to his knees, the weight of his body and his struggle finally claiming their toll. Each breath was a reminder of the battles fought, both physical and internal, and each heartbeat echoed the pain and determination that had sustained him.

There, under the first lights of dawn, Drake allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. The silence of the forest around was a stark contrast to the chaos of the battle that had ended. Although victory had been achieved, the cost was evident in his wounded body and exhausted soul.

The light of dawn was still reaching the camp when a luminous presence made its way to the tent where Julie and Elara rested, immersed in deep sleep. The small fairy, whose wings fluttered with urgency, was not fleeing for her safety but on a desperate mission to find help.

She entered Julie and Elara's tent without hesitation. Approaching the two young women, the fairy whispered with a sweet voice, trying to wake them.

Julie was the first to open her eyes, rubbing them lightly, unsure if what she saw was real or just fragments of a dream. "Is that a fairy? Is this real?" she murmured, her voice muffled by sleep, as she tried to focus on the luminous figure dancing before her eyes.

Elara, awakened by Julie's murmur, also rose, blinking in surprise at the sight of the fairy. "But what…?" She stopped as she tried to comprehend the unexpected scene.

It was then that the fairy, realizing she had the attention of the two, began to speak with urgency: "I need your help. A young redhead mage… he's very injured, needs help," the fairy's voice was laden with pain, each word bringing concern.

Elara's expression quickly transformed, surprise giving way to deep concern with a touch of panic. "Drake?" She asked, recognizing the description.

Julie, overcoming her initial disbelief, nodded, moved by the same urgency. "Let's go, there's not a moment to lose," she said, already standing up.

Julie and Elara, driven by a mix of concern and determination, ran to Koji's tent. The atmosphere charged with tension only increased as they approached, the urgency of the situation pulsing with every step. "Koji! Wake up, quick!" Elara spared no effort, shaking Koji with an intensity that reflected the desperation in her voice.

Koji, pulled from sleep, mumbled something incomprehensible, a complaint muffled by drowsiness. "Drake… did you see him leaving?" Elara pressed, her anxious gaze conveying the gravity of what was at stake.

"No… What happened?" Koji's confusion quickly gave way to concern as he tried to grasp the emergency unfolding before him.

It was then that the fairy intervened with a tone that brooked no delay. "We don't have time for this, please, follow me!"

Koji, finally noticing the luminous and unusual presence before him, couldn't hide his surprise. "Is that… a fairy?" He questioned, astonishment evident in his voice.

"Let's go, Drake needs us…" Elara insisted, her voice laden with an urgency that left no room for further questions.

Arriving at the location indicated by the fairy, the group was met with a scene that struck their hearts with a mix of relief and despair. Drake was there, fallen.

Elara, her heart pounding with concern, immediately ran to Drake's side, her mind focused on providing first aid. Koji and Julie, in turn, took on the responsibility of watching the perimeter, alert for any sign of danger that might still lurk.

The sight of Drake in that state deeply afflicted Elara, but she knew the moment demanded action, not tears. Without hesitation, she began to apply her healing knowledge, each gesture marked by urgency and the fervent desire to see Drake recover. "Warm Embrace," she murmured, her words a whisper of hope.

Conjuring gentle flames around Drake, she used the heat to cauterize the open wounds, a method that, although painful, was necessary to stop the bleeding and prevent infections.

Elara's tears, unable to be contained, streamed down her face as she worked, each drop reflecting the whirlwind of emotions consuming her. The magic, a force Drake had taught her to shape and understand, was now the key to saving him. "See, Drake… you taught me how to use magic… wake up to see… PLEASE!"

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