No sooner had they left the library than Vlad and the others spotted the source of the disturbance. In the distance, a series of massive explosions ripped through the city’s skyline.
Fire and energy flashed like fireworks, the ground trembling with every impact. Agamenon and Vlad exchanged a concerned glance. Those blasts originated from the section where the Imperial Prince’s party operated. Worry etched itself into their features, for each recognized two familiar energy signatures intermingled with the chaos.
"If the Imperial Prince had triggered some defensive formation," Agamenon muttered, "we’d expect runic arrays and Dino constructs to activate. But that’s obviously not what we’re seeing. Instead, it looks more like they’re under attack."
Vlad nodded. "Which can only mean another team might be targeting them," he said quietly, his expression darkening.
Agamenon pulled out a small, glowing life crystal, checking for any sign or distress signal. The crystal did not flicker, indicating that Janus had not yet requested help.
Agamenon hesitated to rush headlong into the prince’s territory without being summoned. If the prince and his team were fighting over some crucial treasure, intruders would only complicate matters. However, Vlad’s resolute voice cut through Agamenon’s uncertainty.
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission," Vlad said softly, then spoke more firmly so everyone could hear. "They may be fine now, but I doubt it’s a one-on-one confrontation. Valeria, Scipius, and Cato likely coordinate their movements, too. If any of them senses a battle, they’ll intervene—and they won’t be there to exchange pleasantries."
Zalasar gave a solemn nod, confirming Vlad’s assessment. It was all the prompting Agamenon needed. He pulled himself upright, forcibly calming any second thoughts, and turned to the group. "Then let’s go!" he commanded.
Without further hesitation, they sprinted toward the left side of the inner ring, weapons and spells ready. Their eyes burned with resolve and with killing intent.
Although Valeria, Scipius, and Cato came from powerful families, they would not hesitate to attack with killing might if they stood in their way. That might cause problems in the future, but none of them were really worried. Helping the Imperial Prince in a time of crisis would only deepen that bond—and the imperial family was, without question, the mightiest authority in Graecia.
As the entire team marched forward, Vlad glanced at the small yellow cat and the white werewolf, sending a meaningful glance. "Jormungandr, Ouroboros, move ahead. Dont hesitate. Go for the kill and secure the location."
The two exchanged a terse nod. Jormungandr leaped onto Ouroboros’ shoulder, and a moment later, the runes on the white werewolf’s flesh flared to life. With a burst of lightning speed, they vanished down the crumbling avenue, heading straight for the flashes of light and ominous booms echoing in the distance.
Meanwhile, in a shattered courtyard near a massive castle, a young woman crowned with brilliant blue hair and clad in ornate armor lowered her still-smoldering sword. Azure flames danced around the blade’s edge, dissipating slowly.
Four cultivators joined her, and each of them unleashed a power that could allow normal Sages to tremble. The ground around them was pockmarked with craters; swirling ashes and debris hung in the air like a veil of smoke.
Before Valeria stood three battered figures: an ogre with two heads, a stout dwarf sporting a dented shield and an ominous sword, and an elderly man dressed in tattered mage robes. All three bore cuts and bruises, a testament to the furious battle raging around them.
The ogre, in particular, looked severely injured, but waves of raw vitality still coursed through his colossal frame, keeping him upright despite the numerous wounds marring his body.
Valeria’s lips curved in a sneer as she lifted her gaze to meet theirs. "Hand over the parchment," she ordered, her tone dripping with imperious disdain, "and I might be generous enough to spare your lives. Refuse me, and I’ll end this here and now."
Though she spoke calmly, the malice roiling in her aura made her threat crystal clear. Her azure flames had already melted swaths of the ground, searing it to glass. It was evident that her power was high enough to kill them all.
Sugar, the two-headed ogre, clenched both sets of teeth. Each of his heads glared with unbridled hatred at Valeria. Next to him, the dwarf—Norman—and the elderly runemaster—Tyron—closed ranks to form a defensive formation around the ogre.
"We fought tooth and nail through the traps inside that old castle," Sugar growled, "and overcame a lethal formation to seize this parchment. Now you dare try to claim it for yourself, you ugly whore!"
"YOU DARE!" Valeria roared, her voice echoing through the courtyard. She was used to subordinates bowing to her whims and suitors showering her with praise. Yet here was an ogre calling her a "whore" and "ugly."
"I’ll have your head for that insolence, you disgusting animal." Her pride seethed with fury before taking a deep breath and turning to the dwarf and old man. "As for you two, do you have anything to say that might appease my rage?"
The dwarf let out a barking laugh, then wiped away a trickle of blood from his forehead. "We certainly don’t think you’re ugly, Lady Valeria. That might be going too far," he said.
Tyron nodded with a smile. "Yes. I’d never dream of insulting that perfectly groomed hair of yours. You’ve obviously spent a lot of time on it. But you know..." He paused dramatically, letting the tension build. "You’re definitely a whore."
"And a cheap one at that!" Norman chimed in.
Valeria’s face twisted, her cheeks coloring with rage. She had hoped to sow discord between them as she had done many times. Breaking friendships was something that brought her great pleasure, but her tricks clearly did not work in the trio. Hot anger blazed in her eyes, and the azure flames around her sword intensified, flaring high into the air.
"KILL THEM ALL!" she screamed. The four Sages lunged in response, unleashing surges of Force and Magic that tore through the smoky atmosphere. Cracks in the ground spread like spiderwebs with each new eruption of energy.