Extra's POV: My Obsessive Villainous Fiancee Is The Game's Final Boss-Chapter 132: To The South!

Ren ducked under Thorn's sword, pivoted, and aimed a light jab at his friend's ribs. Thorn deflected it with ease, retaliating with a kick at Ren's knee.

Ren stepped forward, closing the distance and rendering the move awkward, his sword flying at Thorn's throat. Thorn knocked the sword upward, hopping back on one leg with a grin.

"Sloppy. If this was the younger Ren, he would've punished that mistake." He said, raising his blade again. "Are you getting tired, old man?"

"Old?" Ren scoffed, parrying Thorn's jab. "You were wheezing before we even started."

They exchanged a few more blows, the sharp clinks of metal upon metal ringing in the yard.

Sweat dripped down their faces, but their grins didn't waver for one second. Between jabs and footwork, they traded light-hearted insults. A group of squires paused their drills nearby to watch them, whispering in awe.

Then, without warning, Ren froze mid-swing. His sword lowered, eyes wide.

"Ren?" Thorn lowered his own blade. "What is it?"

Ren's voice came low and tense. "The coin. The one I sent to the border. It just died."

The familiar light he'd been focusing on in his mind had disappeared as if it hadn't been there in the first place.

Thorn stepped forward. "What? Are you sure?"

Today was the day he'd estimated that the coin would arrive at the border. He had been planning on teleporting there that night, but now, his beacon was gone.

Ren didn't answer. He turned and bolted across the training yard, sprinting into the corridors of the castle. Thorn cursed, tossing his practice blade aside and giving chase.

The sound of their pounding footsteps echoed through the halls. Guards turned their heads, startled, and servants stepped aside quickly. As they rounded a corner near the southern wing, Ren skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with Lord Abram and Felix.

"Ren." Felix said urgently, brows furrowed. "Good. Come with us. The border portal was just activated."

Ren's breath caught in his throat. That portal was only meant to be used in an emergency. An escape route in case the wall fell.

Fuck!

The four of them rushed to the grounds just outside the castle. Smoke drifted lazily through the air as Sir Robert shouted orders to soldiers milling around, the ground scorched where the portal had previously been.

Some of the soldiers were physically fine, others were missing limbs, and the rest had really life threatening injuries and were on the brink of death. Noise filled the place, some soldiers crying and others calling for help as the too few healers moved through what remained of their border army.

One of the Rank 4 Knights that Ren recognized from the border staggered forward, blood soaking through the bandages hastily wrapped around where his left arm used to be. He fell to one knee in front of Lord Abram.

"My Lord." The Knight rasped. "The outpost... it's gone. They came fast. Wyverns, dragons... Druids... too many. Knight Commander Arlen held them off. I think… I think he gave his life to buy us time."

Lord Abram's face remained unreadable, but everyone could see the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed. "Who led them? Who led the barbarians?"

"All I saw was their chief riding on a dragon." The Knight answered, voice hollow. "And another. Scarred. Moved like a demon."

Lord Abram inhaled deeply, then exhaled. With a grim look on his face, he turned to his sons, Ren and Felix.

"It seems my fears were correct. War has come to our doorstep. The barbarians have breached the border. We must prepare ourselves."

Lord Abram's words rolled through the silence between them. Even the wind seemed to still. Then, slowly, the realization spread like fire through the ranks.

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The border outpost still burned around them.

Black flames crawled over shattered stone and scorched earth. Bodies, some whole, most not, lay where they had fallen, armor melted or bones charred beyond recognition. The smoke twisted into the sky like mourning spirits.

Bellamy stood in the carnage, eyes sweeping across what had once been a proud defensive line. Now, it was just another graveyard.

Around him, out of the way of the flames, Druids tended to the wounded wyverns while warriors pulled out the remains of their comrades.

Kael approached from the side, blood crusting the scars on his face.

"We've secured the perimeter." He reported. "The Druids are containing the remaining fire, however, the fire is not normal. The work is slow going. The real news is that we've lost too many aerial units. Over a third, by my count."

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Bellamy exhaled slowly. More deaths. Necessary deaths. "One man did this." He muttered. "One Knight."

Kael nodded grimly. "Their commander. Arlen. A monster with a sword."

"And yet, Abram Ross' sword is a greater threat."

Bellamy's hand moved to the pouch at his hip. Berry powder. Even with all their preparations, the cost of that battle had been too high.

"Our supply's not bottomless." Kael said, eyes drifting to Bellamy's pouch. "We pushed hard, raising up new Druids to make it this far."

Bellamy's gaze hardened. "Then we move faster."

Kael tilted his head. "You want to press now?"

"Yes." Bellamy said. "Before Ross can fortify. Before he can do more than cry for help. We hit them while they still mourn."

"Ross." Kael's lips thinned. "He's the only one left who can stand in our way."

"And we'll kill him." Bellamy said. "And everything falls apart for them. Albion will be ours before they can breathe."

A horn sounded from the edge of the ruined outpost. The first of the ground forces had crossed through the breach in the wall. Unlike the aerial forces, they were still untouched. It was time for another speech to keep their blood hot.

Bellamy strode forward, climbed a collapsed section of stone, and raised his axe.

"Warriors of the Tribes!" He roared, voice carrying over the ruined outpost. "This is the moment we have prepared for. No more hiding. No more waiting. Today, we strike at the heart of our enemy. Today, we claim justice!"

He turned, pointing southward.

"We don't stop for nothing. Not for the stupid villagers that cower in their villages. Not for the meager food they have in their storehouses."

"We march till we get to Ross Castle. We burn the banners. We shatter their gates. We kill the curse that fled us and the lord who protects it!"

The roar of approval shook the air.

Kael raised his own blade. "For the Tribe! For vengeance! For Ilyan!"