"Through the forest?" Aria asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. The thought hadn''t even crossed her mind. The stories about the creatures there still echoed in her thoughts. But she quickly shook them off. "Won''t that... be complicated?"


    Vrael smiled calmly. "The forest may be a bit uncomfortable, that''s true. But it''s the best option. Besides, it''s not just for us. Our pursuers will hardly be thrilled about it either."


    Aria shot him a skeptical glance before giving a short nod. She didn''t have much faith in the forest''s safety, but compared to what she was being pursued by, the path through the trees seemed like a smaller risk.


    Before Aria could respond, Vrael continued. "Let me go ahead. I know these alleys like the back of my hand. I also have a little hideout. That''s where my emergency pack is."


    Aria followed him wordlessly, relieved that she no longer had to travel alone. As they twisted through the narrow, dark alleys, the smell of urine and refuse grew stronger.


    To her, it was a good sign. No one would find them easily here. They were far from the wealthy districts, where the streets were clean and well-lit.


    After a while, Vrael stopped and kicked firmly against an unremarkable wall. With a dull crack, it broke open.


    Behind the wall, a hidden compartment revealed not only a backpack but also three large broadswords. These were two-handed weapons, their massive blades securely stored in dark, matte leather sheaths. The sheaths were simple, durable, and functional, showing little embellishment except for a few worn scratches and dents, a clear sign of frequent use.


    The grips of the broadswords, however, were finely crafted. They were long enough to be held with both hands but light enough to be wielded one-handed. The crossguards curved slightly downward, while the pommels at the ends looked heavy yet elegant, as though they could easily serve as a blunt instrument in combat.


    Runes spiraled around the grips, etched into the dark metal, lending the swords a mystical aura. Upon closer inspection, Aria noticed one sword without any runes.


    "What do you need with three swords?" Aria asked, her brow furrowing slightly.


    Vrael gave a crooked grin. "A weapon is one of the most important things out there. And you’d better not rely on just one."


    "Who exactly are you?" Aria glanced at the swords leaning against the wall. Their blades were wide and perfectly forged. Definitely high-quality weapons. Nothing a mere soldier would own.


    The fine runes winding around the grips promised power and history. The price of even one of these broadswords would have easily surpassed a thousand gold coins.


    "You already know that," Vrael answered with a brief laugh.


    "How did you come to take orders from such bastards? Who were you before?"


    "So many questions," he complained. "We''re fleeing right now, and that''s all you can think about?"


    "I''m sorry," she apologized, feeling down.


    "Ask me again later, once we''re in the woods. But only when we rest."


    Aria nodded and followed him as they weaved through the narrow alleys. The smell of urine and refuse grew stronger the further they ventured into the shaded corners of the city. The houses stood close together, their walls made of crumbling bricks and rotting wood. Shutters hung askew, and the plaster was peeling off.


    The creaking of wood under their feet and the rustling of rats were the only sounds in the oppressive silence.


    After half an hour of wandering, they finally reached the city wall. It was tall and imposing, its gray surface covered with moss and lichens, signs of decades of decay. In the distance, the main gate of the city was visible, guarded by dark shadows that blended with the dimming light.


    "Almost there," Aria murmured, a hint of hope in her voice. "We''re almost out."


    "Well, well, where are you going, Vrael?" Two figures emerged from a narrow alley beside them, their silhouettes blending with the faint light of the city. It seemed they had been waiting for them. The first was large and broad-shouldered, wearing heavy leather armor that creaked with every movement. In his hand, he held a long spear, its tip gleaming dangerously.


    The second was even more imposing, surrounded by an air of authority. He wore heavy plate armor, making him appear almost immovable. On his head was a helmet with two distinct horns. In his hand, he wielded a greatsword, its blade straight and full of nicks. One side of the blade was entirely missing a tip, emphasizing the brutal force he could wield with this weapon.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Admiral Fellas and Admiral Milram, what are you doing here?" Aria recognized them immediately. They were two of the most powerful leaders in her father''s army and among the strongest individuals in this city.


    "Seems like your father wants to get rid of you now!" Vrael remarked flatly, his gaze flickering between the two men.


    "Right on the mark," Admiral Fellas replied, his voice deep and menacing as he playfully scraped the spear across the ground.


    The tension in the air was palpable. Aria felt her throat tighten. The protective shadows of the alley, where she had once felt safe, now seemed to turn against them.


    Aria stared at the two admirals with wide, frightened eyes. "But why?"


    "It''s nothing personal," Admiral Milram answered almost sympathetically, his gaze carrying a trace of regret. "It''s about your brother. As long as you live, he won''t find peace. He should be focusing on the succession, not on you."


    "Vrael," she spoke firmly, her heart pounding wildly. "This has nothing to do with you, go now."


    "Nice last words," Admiral Fellas sneered. His smile was thin and cold, as though he was savoring her misfortune. There were enough stories about his cruelty on the battlefield. The darkness around them seemed to deepen with his anticipation as he turned toward her.


    "Hey Aria, how about it? Want to learn how to handle broadsword from me?" His tone was unabashedly teasing, and a challenging glint flickered in his eyes.


    "Don''t you understand, you''re supposed to..." But he cut her off.


    "Watch me closely." He dropped his backpack with a dull thud that echoed through the quiet alley. Slowly, he took one of the broadswords in hand and drew it from its sheath. He fastened the others to his back. The blade, silver and flawless, reflected the faint light from the street lamps, seeming to glow even in the darkness.


    His fingers wrapped around the hilt, and for a brief moment, the space between them crackled with electric tension. Aria felt her breath catch as an unsettling sense of foreboding spread within her.


    Once he held the sword, his hands seemed to grow paler, as though the strength was draining from him. The silence around them grew thick, and the looming danger hung like a shadow over them.


    "I thought we''d never have to fight," Fellas'' voice cut through the stillness, dripping with aggressive anticipation. "Lucky for me, I get to rip someone apart."


    "Don''t underestimate him," Milram warned, his expression stern.


    Milram, heavily armored, stepped forward with determination, while Fellas flanked him. Earth particles swirled up, gathering around the massive sword Milram wielded. Dust formed a swirling storm as the blade grew in size, absurdly reaching 2.5 meters in length.


    Around Fellas'' feet, transparent vortices materialized, giving him a menacing aura. Vrael stood still, waiting, ready for whatever would come. His calm was unshakable. A solitary rock in the storm.


    Aria stood at a distance, watching. Her breath caught in her throat, and a cold shiver ran through her hands. The thought that Vrael might die tightened her chest. Memories of his wife, the only one who had ever been kind to her, flashed through her mind.


    In a fleeting instant, the monstrous sword crashed down onto the ground. The impact was immense; the earth trembled, and the stones shattered under the force. But Vrael narrowly avoided the blow with a swift spin, while a spear from Fellas hurtled toward him with terrifying speed. Vrael let the blade slide harmlessly off, as if the attack were nothing more than a feeble attempt.


    He launched a counterattack just as the massive sword came rushing at him again. Instinctively, he ducked, but the spear struck his leg. Fellas grinned triumphantly.


    Milram stomped hard on the ground, causing the fighter to stumble briefly. That was enough for the furious spear. Without resistance, it plunged into his chest.


    "Master!" Aria screamed, her voice frantic.


    Fellas grinned in satisfaction, but the smile froze on his face when he suddenly felt a presence beside him. Vrael stood there, his sword raised high to the sky, the blade gleaming in the pale light. A soft, deadly hum sliced through the still air. Fellas flinched. His eyes wide with panic, as the sharp blade rushed toward him.


    He reacted too late.


    The sword slashed his nose, a burning pain searing through him. All he could feel was the hot sensation of blood streaming down his face. His vision blurred in a red mist. Barely had he taken a breath before he felt the next strike. Vrael was relentless, giving him no moment to recover. His sword came crashing down directly on Fellas'' neck.


    But before the blow could reach its target, the blade was deflected. A  greatsword had effortlessly blocked the attack. Vrael was thrown back, his boots sliding across the rocky ground as he tried to regain his balance.


    “I told you, don’t underestimate him!” A deep voice cut through the tension.


    Fellas wiped the blood from his eyes, his face contorted with rage. “You’ll regret this,” he growled, his voice trembling with fury.


    Vrael raised an eyebrow, smirking. “With that pitifully wielded toothpick? Ridiculous.”


    “You bastard!” Fellas exploded with anger, lunging forward with a wild yell. But suddenly, a powerful arm held him back. The larger man had stopped him.


    “Calm down,” came the quiet but firm voice, one that brooked no argument.


    Vrael gritted his teeth and glared at the bigger man. He was the real threat. None of his provocations seemed to have even the slightest effect on him.


    “Don’t underestimate Blessing Bearers!” the man repeated, his tone as cold as ice.


    Fellas’ breathing slowly steadied. Suddenly a strange weakness crept into his limbs. It felt as if he had been fighting for hours, even though the battle had just begun.


    "Hey, I just noticed that..." he began, but fell silent abruptly as Vrael appeared before them like a shadow. His eyes widened as Vrael’s sword shot toward him. One strike, deadly precise, aimed directly at Fellas.


    However, Milram was quicker. Without hesitation, he positioned himself between them. But before he could block the strike, Vrael dissolved into mist. A cold breeze swept through the air. Milram instinctively sensed that the next blow would come from a different direction.


    This time, Vrael stood behind him. The blade already raised. Milram barely had time to react. In a desperate reflex, he froze the earth particles around his body and reinforced his armor. The earth creaked and solidified like stone, absorbing the impact.


    Boom.