As the battle raged on around them, Revol charged toward Mevlos, dodging spells with fluid precision.

Mevlos launched the orb, which streaked toward Revol like a falling star. Revol raised his hand, and a wave of golden energy surged forward, colliding with the orb in a brilliant explosion of light.

Before the dust settled, Revol was upon Mevlos.

He delivered a series of precise strikes with his enchanted blade, forcing the mage to retreat.

“You’re out of your mind, Mevlos. It should not be hard to know that as a level two mage yourself, you cannot fight against a level three mage like myself. Revol said,

“Surrender now, and I’ll spare you the humiliation.”

Mevlos gritted his teeth, his back pressed against the wall of a residential building.

“Never.”

In a last-ditch effort, Mevlos unleashed a flurry of spells, but Revol countered each one effortlessly.

With a swift motion, he stopped him from casting spells, and a golden magic blade manifested from his hand and placed on the neck of the man.

“It’s over,” Revol said.

Mevlos glared at him but finally lowered his hands.

Two guardians moved in to restrain Mevlos, dragging him away as Revol turned his attention back to the battlefield.

Meanwhile, a smaller team of guardians had tracked Afrias Negate to a storage facility on Level Four.

The Nightshield leader had set up barriers and traps, but the guardians with their high-level magic understanding disarmed them pretty easily.

Afrias stood in the center of the room, his staff glowing with a sinister red light.

“You think you can corner me?” He spat as the guardians closed in.

The lieutenant stepped forward.

“Afrias Negate, you’re under arrest. Surrender now, and we’ll take you in peacefully.”

Afrias laughed, his voice echoing through the chamber.

“Peacefully? Do you think I’ve come this far to be taken down by a bunch of second-rate enforcers?”

With a roar, he unleashed a torrent of fire, forcing the guardians to scatter. But the lieutenant was prepared. He activated a rune, creating a shield that absorbed the flames, then charged forward with his blade drawn.

The two clashed in a fierce duel, their movements a blur of steel and magic.

Afrias fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, but the lieutenant’s discipline and skill proved superior.

Most of the time, Guardians of Blue Hope did not act until they needed to act or were given direct orders.

In the end, Afrias made one final attempt to escape, but a well-placed strike from the lieutenant’s blade ended the fight. The Nightshield leader collapsed,

The battle was over. The guardians had secured the area, and ordinary blue hope guards started treating the wounded and clearing the debris.

Revol stood,

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His expression was grim as he addressed his team. “Good work, everyone.”

As the ordinary blue hope guardians dispersed to continue their patrols,

Revol couldn’t shake the feeling that the chaos on Level Four was a harbinger of worse things to come.

-

Not much time later, the chaos ensued.

A scuffle broke out in a crowded market square, seemingly out of nowhere. Amid the lively chatter of merchants hawking their wares, a short, wiry man in a tattered jacket slipped through the crowd, his eyes fixed on a broad-shouldered man standing near a fruit vendor.

The broad man was laughing with his companions, unaware of the danger creeping up behind him.

In a flash, the wiry man pulled a knife from beneath his jacket and plunged it into the broad man’s side. The victim staggered forward, gasping as blood began to soak his shirt.

“Bren!” shouted one of his companions, rushing to catch him as he fell.

The crowd froze for a split second, the air thick with shock. Then, chaos erupted.

Civilians screamed and scattered, overturning carts and baskets in their panic. The knife-wielding man didn’t wait for a response; he turned to flee, but Bren’s companions were faster.

“You bastard!” one of them roared, lunging at the attacker.

The wiry man slashed wildly with his blade, catching one of his pursuers on the arm, but the others tackled him to the ground.

A brutal struggle ensued as fists and curses flew, drawing more attention from nearby onlookers.

Within moments, members of rival non-magical organizations who had long been at odds with Bren’s group saw an opportunity to escalate the conflict.

A burly man in a patched vest shouted, “They’re getting what they deserve! Let’s finish this!”

More fighters poured into the fray, turning what had begun as a personal vendetta into an all-out brawl.

As the violence spread, the civilians who hadn’t already fled scrambled for safety.

A young mother clutching her child darted into a nearby path to level six, her face pale with fear.

An elderly vendor tried to gather his goods, only to have his stall overturned by a pair of men grappling each other.

“Guards! Someone get the guards!” a voice screamed over the din.

But the guards were already on their way, having been alerted to the disturbance.

The first squad of guards burst onto the scene, their armor glinting in the light of the market’s hanging lanterns.

Their captain, a stern woman with a scar across her cheek, surveyed the chaos with a grim expression.

“Disperse immediately!” She bellowed.

“This is your only warning!”

Her command fell on deaf ears.

The fighters, consumed by their rage, paid no attention to the guards’ presence.

The captain signaled her squad. “Move in! Separate them!”

The guards waded into the melee, their batons raised. They struck with measured force, aiming to incapacitate without causing undue harm, but the sheer number of combatants made their task nearly impossible.

One of the guards managed to pull the wiry attacker to his feet, pinning his arms behind his back. “You’re coming with me,” the guard growled.

But before they could move, a woman from the attacker’s group rushed forward with a wooden club, striking the guard across the back.

The guard crumpled to the ground, and the attacker broke free, vanishing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Bren’s companions had regrouped, dragging their wounded leader to the side of the market.

“Stay with us, Bren!” pressing a cloth against his wound to stem the bleeding.

The fight raged on around them, with neither side showing any sign of retreat.

More guards arrived, this time armed with shields and stun rods. Among them was Revol,

His imposing presence immediately drew attention.

“Enough!” Revol’s voice boomed, enhanced by magic.

The fighters hesitated, some lowering their weapons as they turned to look at him.

Revol’s eyes swept over the chaos—the bloodied faces, the shattered stalls, the cowering civilians. His expression hardened.

“This stops now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Revol raised his hand, and a golden barrier erupted around the market square, trapping the fighters inside. The shimmering wall pulsed with energy, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.

“You’ve caused enough damage,” Revol said, addressing the combatants.

“Surrender peacefully, or face the consequences.”

A few of the fighters dropped their weapons, their faces pale with fear. Others, emboldened by their numbers, charged at Revol and his guards.

Revol met them head-on, his movements precise and efficient.

He disarmed one man with a swift strike, then used a burst of magic to knock another off his feet.

The guards followed his lead, subduing the remaining fighters with a combination of skill and force.