The clash of steel and the crackle of magic erupted all at once.
The knights surged forward, weapons gleaming under the flickering light of mana stones embedded in their hilts and armor. Blades clashed, sparks flying as steel met steel, and the acrid scent of blood mixed with the smoke already thick in the air. The rogues, cloaked figures with their own enchanted weapons, struck back with brutal efficiency, some wielding magic that sent bolts of fire and jagged ice slicing through the battlefield.
Florian barely had time to react before another explosion rocked the earth. The princesses screamed as dust and debris showered over them, their terrified sobs lost in the chaos. Cashew clung to Florian, his small frame trembling violently, fingers twisted in the fabric of his sleeve. "Y-Your Highness! I-I don’t want to die!"
Florian forced himself to stay upright, heart hammering as he wrapped an arm around Cashew’s shoulders. "You won’t. We’ll get through this, just—just stay close..."
"Protect the princesses! Protect the harem!" a knight bellowed, swinging his sword at an advancing rogue. His blade met flesh, cutting deep, but the rogue retaliated with a blast of fire from a mana stone in his gauntlet. The knight barely had time to scream before he was engulfed in flames.
"No! Gods, no!" Camilla wailed, clutching onto Scarlett, her sobs raw with terror. "I can’t—I can’t do this! We need to run! We need to hide!"
Scarlett, still shaking, tried to muster her usual defiance, but her voice cracked. "Damn it, let me go! I—" She flinched as a rogue’s spell sent a knight crashing into the dirt beside her, his blood splattering onto her gown. Her eyes widened in horror. "We’re all going to die."
"Stay behind me!" Bridget commanded, her usually composed face taut with barely concealed fear. "The knights will protect us. Just—just don’t separate!"
"We need to move!" a knight yelled, blocking a rogue’s incoming strike. "We’re too exposed here!"
Another knight stumbled back, blood pouring from a deep gash in his side. "They—they’re using too much magic! We need reinforcements!"
A knight’s guttural cry rang out as a rogue’s blade sank deep into his gut. Blood sprayed onto the dirt, his body crumpling before he could even scream.
Another knight retaliated, swinging a mana-infused greatsword that crackled with electricity, severing the rogue’s head from his shoulders. The body fell limp, the light in its embedded mana stone flickering out like a dying ember.
"Hold the formation!" Lancelot bellowed, his sword a blur as he parried a rogue’s strike and countered with a brutal slash to the chest. Unlike the others, he had no magic—only raw, honed strength and relentless precision. And yet, even without magic, he carved through his enemies with ruthless efficiency.
Lucius, standing near Florian, was eerily composed. His silver-rimmed glasses remained intact despite the dust and blood splattering across his otherwise pristine uniform.
He dodged an incoming rogue’s strike with almost inhuman grace, countering with a swift dagger to the throat. The rogue gurgled, clawing at his neck before collapsing at Lucius’s feet.
’Fuck.’
Florian’s breath hitched. Everything was happening too fast. Too much blood. Too many bodies falling. He knew this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. The princesses weren’t supposed to be here. The rogues weren’t supposed to be this reckless.
Yet, as he turned his gaze to the man at the center of it all, he knew exactly why everything had changed.
The man from his nightmare.
He stood at the edge of the battle, unbothered, almost amused. A mana stone embedded in the gauntlet on his hand pulsed ominously, and a cocky smirk curled at his lips. His dark cloak barely shifted as he sidestepped a rogue’s body that had been thrown aside by a knight’s strike.
Florian’s blood ran cold.
Lancelot was already moving toward him, sword gripped tight, eyes burning with determination. The rogue leader tilted his head, as if unimpressed, before raising his hand. The mana stone on his gauntlet flared—a deep, malevolent red.
Then, the air itself cracked apart.
A shockwave of pure force blasted outward, sending knights flying like ragdolls. Some crashed into trees, bones snapping on impact, while others were thrown into the dirt, weapons scattering from their hands. Even Florian felt the pressure of it, his knees nearly buckling.
Cashew screamed, burying his face into Florian’s chest. "Your Highness...they’re...they’re dead..."
"Don’t look, Cashew!" Florian gasped, gripping Cashew tighter. ’He’s too young to be exposed to any of this!’
Lancelot, however, barely staggered. He lunged, sword flashing. The rogue leader met his strike with a dagger that shimmered with dark energy. Their weapons collided, sending another pulse of force rippling through the battlefield.
"You’re persistent, Commander." the rogue leader mused, his voice almost lazy. "But you lack magic. How do you expect to win?"
Lancelot’s grip on his sword tightened. "By cutting you down before you can cast another spell."
The rogue leader laughed, twisting his dagger to lock Lancelot’s blade in place. "Bold. Let’s see if you can back that up."
Lancelot and the rogue leader clashed again, steel meeting steel in a violent storm of sparks and force. Every strike was met with a counter, every opening exploited in an instant. The battlefield around them remained a whirlwind of chaos, but Florian found himself focusing on just the two of them.
However, something was off.
The fight wasn’t just a battle of strength—it was shifting, moving. Every clash, every sidestep, every feint was bringing them closer and closer to where the princesses were huddled. The rogue leader’s eyes flicked toward them, subtle but unmistakable. He was planning something.
Florian’s stomach twisted. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the cries of battle. "Lucius," he hissed, urgency lacing his voice. "They’re getting too close to the princesses."
Lucius, wiping his dagger clean on a fallen rogue’s cloak, barely had time to respond before the rogue leader suddenly lunged at Lancelot with terrifying speed. Lancelot met the strike head-on, steel clashing against steel in a deafening shriek.
Their blades locked, muscles strained, and the sheer force of their struggle sent a ripple of energy pulsing through the battlefield.
And then it happened.
The rogue leader’s lips curled into a smirk—sharp, knowing, triumphant. A heartbeat later, he twisted his body, disengaging from Lancelot in one fluid motion. Before the knight could react, before he could even shift his stance, the rogue leader pivoted sharply and launched himself toward the princesses like a shadow slicing through the night.
"No—!" Florian’s voice was raw, desperate, but too late.
The princesses gasped, their shrieks of terror cutting through the air like shattered glass. Camilla scrambled backward, her hands clutching Scarlett’s arm in panic. Bridget reached for a dagger hidden beneath her gown, but hesitation flickered across her face—a second too long.
The rogue leader struck with precision. His gloved hand clamped around Athena’s wrist like an iron shackle. She barely had time to scream before he yanked her forward, his arm wrapping around her throat, a dagger pressing against her pale skin.
Athena let out a choked cry, her wide eyes brimming with sheer, unfiltered terror. Her breath hitched, her fingers clawing at his arm, struggling against his unyielding grip. "H-Help me, please!" she sobbed, voice cracking in despair.
Florian’s stomach dropped. "Oh no."
The battlefield froze. The clash of swords dulled, the war cries faltered. Even the wind seemed to still.
Every knight stopped, their weapons gripped tight, their focus wrenched away. And in that fatal moment of hesitation, the rogues struck. Shadows flickered, blades found their marks. Several knights collapsed, their cries lost in the sudden shift of battle.
The rogue leader chuckled—a slow, deliberate sound, thick with amusement and menace. He tightened his hold on Athena, the dagger glinting dangerously under the fractured light of the mana stones. "Everyone freeze, or this princess dies."
Athena whimpered, her whole body trembling, her hands desperately trying to pry his arm away. Tears welled in her eyes, cascading down her cheeks as she twisted, trying to escape, but his grip was unrelenting.
Florian felt horror crawl up his spine like a venomous serpent, his throat dry with disbelief. He barely managed to whisper, "They got Athena."
And just like that, the battle had changed.