The black flames spread across the ruined forest like a living plague.

The ground hissed and cracked beneath their heat while the surrounding trees continued collapsing into blackened ash. Even the air itself felt wrong to breathe. The dead mana saturating the area pressed heavily against the lungs of everyone present, suffocating weaker dark elves to the point that some had already dropped to one knee.

Yet amidst that hellish landscape, Zale walked forward calmly.

The pale glow of Serathil illuminated the darkness around him, the sacred weapon moving fluidly beside him like a silver serpent gliding through water. Its segmented blade shifted softly with each movement, scales interlocking and separating with quiet metallic hymns.

The moment Jabran’s eyes landed upon the weapon, the flames around him surged violently.

"Hm," Zale mused lightly, noticing the reaction. "So you do recognize holy weapons."

Jabran remained silent beneath the shadow of his hood, though the atmosphere around him grew heavier.

The surrounding dark elves instinctively stepped backward.

Even Xeveris felt his instincts screaming at him to retreat.

These were not opponents they could interfere with anymore.

Xeveris and the other Dark Elves behind him could feel the bloodlust in the air, it was just as thick as the dead mana. Xeveris couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that, first, it was the dark forces, now the Merfolk King who was here on the word of a Dragon. It was as if the history was repeating itself.

"So the Dragon sends the King of Nelius Ocean himself." Jabran finally spoke.

Zale smiled faintly.

"Not exactly. My Master simply told me there would be vermin here that needed cleaning."

The black flames exploded outward and the ground beneath Jabran’s feet shattered apart as pillars of hellfire surged toward Zale like starving beasts

Several dark elves shouted in alarm, but Zale did not retreat, instead, Serathil moved.

The holy blade uncoiled instantly, its silver scales separating before the weapon lashed through the flames with frightening elegance.

A sharp ringing echoed through the battlefield and the black fire split apart, not extinguished but sliced through cleanly.

The surrounding flames recoiled violently as sacred light erupted through the forest, illuminating the scorched battlefield in silver-blue brilliance.

Jabran’s eyes narrowed beneath his hood.

That attack should have swallowed the King whole.

Instead, Zale stood untouched amidst the collapsing flames.

"My turn?" Zale offered politely.

Then he moved.

The dark elves only saw a flash of silver.

Serathil extended through the air like a striking serpent while Zale himself appeared directly before Jabran, his robes flowing sharply behind him.

Jabran reacted instantly.

Black flames erupted from his arm as he blocked the incoming strike barehanded.

BOOM.

The collision shook the forest.

Hellfire and Aura exploded against each other violently enough to send shockwaves ripping through the surrounding trees.

Several nearby dark elves were thrown backward from the pressure alone.

For the first time since arriving, Zale’s smile faded slightly and Jabran finally realized something unsettling.

The King of Nelius Ocean was not merely protecting the dark elves.

He had arrived fully intending to kill him.

"Lord Xeveris," Zale spoke without turning, his voice calm against the scorching heat of the hell’s flames, "It would be safer if you went ahead, I’ll take care of this one and the reinforcements will also be here soon so, don’t worry and go get your people."

Xeveris stared at the King’s back for a moment.

Even amidst such chaos, Zale Turquoise stood with an almost frightening composure. The pale glow of Serathil coiled around his arm like a living stream of moonlight, its segmented blade shifting fluidly with every subtle movement of his wrist. In contrast to the overwhelming dead mana suffocating the forest, Zale’s presence felt cool and impossibly steady.

Ermid and Yttriva exchanged glances before giving Xeveris silent nods.

There was no point remaining here any longer.

This was no longer a battlefield they could interfere in.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Xeveris finally said.

A quiet chuckle escaped Zale.

"Go on," Zale said, "They failed once, they’ll fail again."

As if provoked by those very words, the dead mana around Jabran surged violently.

The black flames spread outward in a massive wave, devouring the ground and trees alike as several spears of hellfire shot directly toward the retreating dark elves.

But Serathil moved before anyone else could react.

The holy blade uncoiled from around Zale’s arm with the sharp sound of scales sliding against one another before it lashed across the battlefield like a silver serpent. A fierce wave of aura burst through the forest in a dazzling arc and cleaved apart the incoming flames before they could even reach the others.

The impact shook the surroundings violently.

Several trees cracked apart while the earth itself split beneath the overwhelming clash between Serathil’s force and the dead mana.

"Move!" Xeveris barked immediately.

The dark elves wasted no further time. Carrying the injured along with them, they quickly retreated deeper into the forest while the younger elves repeatedly glanced back with anxious expressions.

Even from a distance, they could still feel the terrifying pressure rising behind them, and the moment the dark elves fully withdrew, the battle truly began.

A deafening explosion erupted throughout the forest as Jabran’s black flames collided head-on against Serathil’s radiant blade. The resulting shockwave spread through the woodland with enough force to uproot nearby trees entirely.

Yttriva stumbled slightly before catching herself against a rock.

The air itself felt unstable.

Every clash that followed sounded less like weapons colliding and more like thunder splitting the heavens apart.

Black flames devoured everything in their path while silver-white arcs of aura repeatedly tore through the darkness.

Ermid swallowed hard as he glanced back.

The ruined forest behind them flickered between black and silver light repeatedly, as though two disasters had crashed into one another.

"Monsters..." he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, farther ahead within the eastern woodland, the Pure Mana Elves were being escorted away under the protection of the Elven Knights.

The once tranquil forest had long descended into chaos.

Several sections of woodland burned with unnatural black flames while corpses littered the forest floor in grotesque piles. Some belonged to corrupted dark elves while others were of the knights who had failed to protect the evacuation routes.

"Keep moving!"

"Protect the rear flank!"

"Don’t stop running!"

The knights continuously barked orders while escorting the frightened civilians deeper into safer territory.

At the very rear of the formation stood Rhylen, or rather, he remained there like the final wall refusing to collapse.

His silver armor was stained with blood and ash while several visible injuries marred his body. One deep cut stretched across his shoulder while another had pierced through the side of his abdomen earlier during the fighting. The wounds refused to heal, the flesh around them slowly decomposing under the influence of the dead mana, yet the Captain of the Elven Knights still stood tall.

The massive longsword in his grasp dripped black blood as several corpses of corrupted dark elves lay scattered around him.

The battlefield surrounding him looked less like a forest and more like a slaughter ground.

Rhylen exhaled slowly.

His sharp eyes scanned the dark woodland ahead while the surviving knights gradually retreated behind him with the Pure Mana Elves.

Something was wrong. He had expected the Dark Elves to come attacking them, but the black blood of these Elves was a sign that these weren’t just the Dark Elves. Black blood signified demons and those whose blood had turned black belonged to the dark forces.

Rhylen had only arrived at this horrifying realization after cutting down dozens of them himself. The more he fought, the more unnatural the enemy became. Their movements lacked fear, their eyes carried madness, and even fatal wounds failed to slow some of them down. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

There was another plan unfolding here.

Something far larger than a mere ambush.

And if he failed to stop it or report it soon enough, then the entire eastern region could descend into catastrophe.

Rhylen lowered his sword slightly as he looked around the ruined battlefield one final time. The forest floor was littered with corpses while black flames continued devouring the trees in the distance. The surviving knights had already escorted most of the Pure Mana Elves farther away and there no longer seemed to be any enemies remaining nearby.

At least, that was what it appeared to be.

The sudden stillness unsettled him far more than the battle itself.

Rhylen turned, intending to regroup with the others and report what he had discovered, but the moment he took a step, a violent chill crawled down his spine.

Years of battlefield instinct moved his body before his mind could even process the danger.

He twisted sideways abruptly and something sharp sliced through the air beside his neck with enough force to send several strands of his midnight black hair drifting downward.

Rhylen’s eyes narrowed instantly.

The sound came a fraction too late.

CLANG.

His longsword shot upward on pure instinct, intercepting the black katana that descended toward him from the darkness. Sparks exploded violently between the colliding blades while the sheer force behind the strike cracked the earth beneath his boots.

Rhylen staggered back a single step before stabilizing himself.

A figure stood several feet away from him amidst the drifting black mist.

Tall and dressed entirely in dark clothing, the stranger almost blended into the shadows themselves. The lower half of his face remained concealed beneath black fabric while strands of dark hair shifted faintly around his gleaming silver eyes. In his hand rested a long black katana whose blade reflected almost no light.

But what unsettled Rhylen more than the weapon was the dead mana.

Black mist slowly spread across the forest around them like living smoke, swallowing visibility little by little until the surrounding woodland became distorted and unclear.

Rhylen immediately raised his guard again, every sense in his body sharpened.

The man before him carried none of the madness the corrupted dark elves possessed. His posture was calm, controlled, almost relaxed.

Like someone entirely confident in killing whatever stood before him.

The stranger tilted his head slightly as though studying Rhylen with curiosity.

"So you’re the Captain of the Elven Knights," he spoke softly. His voice carried no hostility.

That somehow made it worse as Rhylen did not lower his blade.

"And you," he replied coldly, "must be the rat hiding behind all this filth."

A faint chuckle escaped the man, the shadows around his feet rippled unnaturally.

Without warning, the figure vanished.

Rhylen’s pupils contracted. He immediately swung his sword behind him with enough force to cleave apart the air itself, but the blade passed cleanly through a dark silhouette that dissolved into smoke the moment it was struck.

An illusion. No, not exactly.

Before Rhylen could fully understand it, another presence emerged at his flank.

Steel screamed.

The black katana scraped across Rhylen’s armor and sparks erupted violently as he forced the strike away before instantly counterattacking. His longsword tore through the mist again, splitting apart another false image.

The real attacker had already moved.

Rhylen clicked his tongue in irritation as he leapt backward across the ruined ground, his sharp eyes scanning the shifting darkness around him.

A swordsman.

An assassin.

And an extremely troublesome one at that.

The black mist continued coiling through the forest while several silhouettes slowly emerged between the trees around him. Some stood upside down along the branches while others remained motionless upon the ground, all of them carrying the same katana and the same crimson eyes.

Rhylen could immediately tell they were not real.

But the issue was that he could not distinguish the real body fast enough.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed through the mist again.

Then the stranger’s voice followed quietly from somewhere within the darkness.

"You rely too much on direct combat."

Rhylen’s grip around his sword tightened.

The voice shifted again.

This time directly behind him.

"A knight’s habits are easy to read."

Rhylen spun instantly and slashed with overwhelming force.

The massive blade tore apart three shadowy figures at once alongside the trees behind them, sending splintered wood flying throughout the forest.

But once again, no blood. Only black mist.