Night had fallen, cloaking the world in a veil of deep blue and silver. Crickets chirped softly beneath the tree canopy, their rhythm steady and oblivious to the storm brewing in the shadows.
Aamon stood at the edge of the Ravener's Gorge, his expression calm but eyes sharp, scanning the darkness ahead. The moonlight trickled through the cracks in the cliff face, glinting off the jagged rocks and sparse vegetation.
The elf girl—her name was Elira—stood beside him. Her wounds were fully healed thanks to Yue's spirit-infused treatment and the stabilizing energies of Aamon's Territory. She had insisted on guiding them to the exact spot where Princess Estelle had been ambushed.
Aamon had agreed, though unease lingered in his chest like a coiled serpent.
"We're close," Elira whispered, pointing toward a narrow crevice in the rock wall. "That leads to a hidden trail into the gorge's interior… that's where they took her."
Aamon nodded, signaling to Alexia and Yue behind him. The four of them moved silently through the rocks, their footfalls muted by skill and intent.
But the moment they crossed the threshold of the crevice—
Boom!
An explosion of motion erupted around them. Dozens of figures leapt down from the cliff ledges above, cloaked in bone masks and wielding jagged blades and hooked spears.
"AMBUSH!" Aamon barked, his body already in motion.
Steel clashed with bone as Alexia met the first attacker mid-air, slashing through his armor with her crimson daggers. Yue raised her hands and called upon the wind—sending a spiral of blades slicing through another wave of enemies.
Aamon ducked under a spear thrust, his knee driving into a masked warrior's gut. He spun and shattered another's ribcage with a palm strike, the force blasting the man off his feet.
They were surrounded—but they were winning.
Then, something shifted.
Half a dozen of the ambushers pulled out black-glass vials from their belts and swallowed glowing crimson pills.
Their bodies convulsed, then bulged grotesquely—muscles swelling, veins darkening, and eyes burning red like molten iron. Their speed doubled, and their strength surged like a dam breaking.
Aamon's pupils narrowed.
"Energy pills," he muttered. "Suicidal bastards."
These weren't just mercenaries—they were zealots willing to burn their life force to kill him.
"Focus on defense," Aamon shouted to the others. "Don't let them land a clean hit!"
But the enemy wasn't aiming for Alexia or Yue.
They charged straight for Aamon, aiming to cripple him even if it cost their lives.
Three of them struck in a flurry—one from the front, two from either side.
Aamon barely parried the first blow with his gauntleted arm, but the second attacker's punch cracked his ribs, and the third's kick sent him skidding backward.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Before he could steady himself, one of them darted forward—spear aimed directly at his heart.
"AAAMON!" Alexia screamed, trying to intercept—but she was still locked in a clash with two others.
The spear came flying, death in its wake.
Then—
Elira jumped in the way.
She had no armor, no skills, no cultivation. Just instinct.
The spear impaled her chest clean through, lifting her off the ground. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, blood pooling at her lips as her small frame shuddered.
"No—!" Aamon's voice tore through the battlefield.
Rage surged through him like a tidal wave. In that instant, the world slowed.
Time seemed to bend around him as he activated every ounce of power his body held. His foot slammed into the earth, propelling him forward.
He tore through the three pill-enhanced attackers like a storm given flesh.
One's neck snapped under a vicious elbow.
Another had his chest caved in by a glowing fist, bones shattering like brittle glass.
The third raised his weapon, only to have it cleaved in half by a blade of spirit-wind conjured by Yue.
The last attacker, seeing the carnage, tried to retreat—only for Alexia to catch him from behind and drive a dagger into the base of his skull.
The battle ended in seconds.
Silence followed.
Aamon dropped to his knees beside Elira, gently cradling her bleeding form.
She coughed weakly, her eyes unfocused.
"You… you're safe," she whispered.
"Why would you do that?" Aamon asked, his voice low and hoarse.
Elira smiled faintly, blood trickling down her chin. "She's… everything to us. The princess… she carries the hope of our people."
She reached up with trembling fingers, brushing the side of Aamon's face.
"Please… save her. Bring her home…"
Aamon caught her hand and squeezed it gently.
"I will. I swear it. I'll bring Estelle back… even if I have to burn this world down."
At those words, Elira's breath hitched.
She gave a small, peaceful smile.
Then… her hand fell limp.
Her eyes closed.
And she was gone.
A heavy silence settled over the battlefield once more.
Alexia knelt beside Aamon, her face solemn. Yue lowered her head in silent respect, the wind around her still.
Aamon gently laid Elira down and closed her eyes.
"She had no strength," he said quietly. "No cultivation. Nothing. And still, she jumped in the way."
Alexia nodded. "She had something stronger than strength. Loyalty."
Aamon stood up slowly, his fists clenched.
"She died believing in us. That can't be for nothing."
He turned toward the dark path that led deeper into Ravener's Gorge—toward the hidden caves where Estelle was held.
The mission was no longer just a task.
Now… it was a promise.