The sword struck with unyielding force against his back armor. Even the hardened earth couldn''t withstand the full strength of the blow. Milram was shoved forward. A crack split the stone surface of his armor. The blade had pierced through his defenses.


    A long, burning cut formed on his back, but the damage was less than it could have been. All thanks to his earth reinforcement.


    However, a fleeting sense of unease gripped him. A trace of weakness crawled into his limbs, like an invisible weight suddenly pressing down on him. His muscles felt heavier, the pain pulsed lightly after. It wasn’t enough to hinder him seriously, but just enough to throw him off balance.


    Grinding his teeth, Milram reinforced the earth layer further. His armor growing thicker and heavier, as though he sought to push the inexplicable sensation away. The earth particles tightened around his body like a second skin, protecting him from further attacks.


    Before Vrael could make another strike, Fellas suddenly stood at Milram''s side. His spear thrust forward. The tip slicing Vrael''s cheek and leaving a bloody trail. But Vrael did not retreat. He moved toward Fellas immediately, with the grace of a predator stalking its prey.


    Fellas, now visibly unsettled, began to retreat. But Vrael''s broadsword gave him no room to escape. A quick slash, and another cut appeared on Fellas'' arm. Blood dripped onto the ground. A feeling of losing control began to stir within Fellas.


    "Dammit," Fellas cursed quietly, as the weakness continued to rise within him. His muscles felt sluggish, as though he had already been fighting for hours. A heavy pounding began in his head. Despite having landed a hit with his spear, that should have increased his speed further.


    Milram spun around, the sword gripped tightly in his hands. With a thunderous crash, his blade struck the ground. The impact sent a shockwave through the street, making the ground beneath them tremble. It threw Vrael brutally against the nearby wall of a house.


    Stones shattered as Vrael hit the wall. Fellas saw his chance. A vortex of air formed around his spear. The rumbling hum in the air signaling the immense power he was gathering. With all his strength, he hurled the spear. The weapon shot forward like a lightning bolt. Vrael, still dazed, could barely react. The spear thudded deep into his stomach with a dull impact.


    Vrael vanished. A mist swirled around the spot where he had stood, and as the fog cleared. He was standing just a few steps away, with a deep cut along his side. Blood slowly dripped onto the ground. Fellas’ face brightened when he saw the hit. The pain in Vrael’s eyes gave him a brief spark of hope.


    Milram seized the moment. With a loud battle cry, he charged at the wounded opponent, sword raised high. He brought the blade down on Vrael''s body. A brutal strike that seemed to split him in half. But once again, Vrael’s form faded, dissolving into nothing.


    "What the..." Milram froze, as he suddenly saw Vrael standing next to the grinning Fellas. Fear flickered in Fellas’ eyes as he recognized the danger. But it was too late. A grinding sound sliced through the air. With a sickening crack, his left arm fell to the ground.


    "Argh!" A bone-shaking scream tore from Fellas’ throat. The excruciating pain distorted his face. Tears welled in his eyes while he fought to keep control of his body. Blood sprayed onto the ground, and the world around him began to sway.


    Instinctively, he sprang toward Milram, his legs trembling under the strain. But he stumbled. His body suddenly felt heavy, and a paralyzing weakness spread through his limbs. His gaze grew hazy, the colors of the world began to fade as he sank exhausted to his knees.


    Fellas’ gaze shifted to Vrael''s wound. A strange flicker surrounded the cut. Then it dawned on him. This sword... it drained life force. The energy that had been taken from him flowed directly back into Vrael. Suddenly, he understood why his hand had turned pale at the start. If Vrael doesn''t harm anyone, he loses strength.


    Fellas opened his mouth to shout a warning. But before a sound could escape his lips, the fatal blow struck. A broadsword sank effortlessly into the back of his skull. The blade pierced through his open mouth, teeth splintered, blood sprayed onto the ground. But Fellas felt none of it. His body collapsed, lifeless.


    Vrael drew another broadsword, but this one did not glow. It looked... normal. No special aura, no distinctive patterns.


    "See, Aria?" he said calmly, never taking his eyes off his new opponent. "That''s why you need multiple swords."


    Aria stood a few steps away, her eyes wide in disbelief. She could barely comprehend what she had just witnessed. The old man... he had single-handedly destroyed two admirals. How was that even possible?


    But as she looked closer, she noticed something behind the cold facade. Exhaustion crept into his eyes, his movements slowed. He must have expended immense amounts of natural energy to keep going for so long.


    Milram was in a similar state. His breath came heavy, the tension in his muscles slowly fading. The strength of both fighters seemed to be waning, and the outcome of this battle was far from decided.


    Vrael''s free hand slowly moved toward a third broadsword. It was pitch-black, starkly contrasting with the bronze-colored runes that spiraled around the shaft.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Vrael prepared himself. "I need to finish this quickly."


    "I don''t care anymore. I''m out. You won," Milram called out, raising his hands to signal his retreat.


    Vrael didn’t want to risk another conflict and simply nodded. Their goal was to escape; there was no need to fight to the last drop of blood.


    "Come on, Aria, let’s go."


    Milram slung the body of his comrade over his shoulder and turned without further words to leave. The broadsword detached from his grasp as if by ghostly hands, clattering to the ground.


    With a satisfied smile, Vrael sheathed his sword once more. "Let''s go," he called out to his still-wondering pupil. "Questions about the fight will have to wait. We’ve made too much noise. Soon, more people will arrive."


    They quickly approached the gate. Two guards stood there, their bodies tense, ready for whatever might come.


    "Stop!" one of the guards shouted, waving his halberd threateningly.


    But instead of reacting, Vrael quickened his pace. The determination in his eyes made the poor soldiers flinch.


    Aria could hardly believe that despite his injuries, Vrael was capable of such speed. The panicked guard quickly pulled a whistle from his pocket. Vrael struck the ground with a forceful step. A small stone was sent flying, and he caught it with a skilled motion. In the next moment, he hurled the stone with all his might. It struck the guard, knocking the whistle from his hand.


    The man''s eyes widened in fear, but Vrael gave him no time to react. A powerful punch sent him into darkness. The second guard attempted to flee, but he too failed. Another strike, and he was also sent into an uncomfortable slumber.


    Behind them, torches flared up in the distance. At least a hundred lights burned, like angry eyes following them.


    "The last obstacle is a steel gate," Aria murmured nervously.


    "We need to reach the battlements to open it," Aria reminded him hastily.


    With a determined look, Vrael turned around and drew the third broadsword. It was pitch-black, darker than the night itself, and seemed to merge with the darkness.


    Blood dripped from his right arm, running down the blade. The red droplets formed blood-red runes on the surface of the sword. The glowing red against the black background gave the weapon an eerie, captivating appearance.


    He struck. The door was easily sliced through. "Move, quickly!" he commanded urgently, sheathing his sword and running ahead. Soon, the dark forest came into view. Suddenly, an arrow lodged itself in the ground beside them. More followed, like a deadly salvo.


    Vrael drew his regular broadsword and saw another arrow racing toward Aria''s back. At the last moment, he sliced the arrow in mid-air with a precise strike.


    "Hold them off!" bellowed an authoritative voice from behind. The sound of hooves signaled reinforcements approaching. Just as they reached the forest, Vrael whispered, "Straight ahead."


    They ran and ran until the sun began to rise slowly on the horizon. Then, Aria finally collapsed, her stamina completely drained.


    "You sure seem confident we lost them all," Vrael teased, trying to lighten the mood.


    Aria, however, was so exhausted that she couldn''t even respond.


    "Well, looks good. You might want to get your umbrella ready," he added with a crooked grin.


    Slowly, she propped herself up into a sitting position as the sky indeed darkened rapidly.


    "I don''t have one," she murmured, exhaustion clearly evident in her voice.


    "Bad luck, huh? Oh, I don''t have one either," Vrael replied, and a mischievous gleam flashed in his eyes.


    "Is this really the right time for jokes?" Aria asked, eyeing him skeptically.


    "You''re right. Let''s toast to our successful escape," Vrael replied seriously, and actually pulled a bottle of wine from his backpack. She rolled her eyes.


    With a wide grin, he then pulled out a tarp from his gear. "Always remember what''s important out here. Warmth, water, defeanse and shelter are clearly top priorities," he lectured her, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.


    He stretched the tarp low over the ground between two trees, securing it with some rope.


    "Why are you setting it up so low?" Aria asked, confused.


    "Think about what happens when the wind comes from the side."


    "We''ll get wet, because the rain is coming from the side too?"


    "Exactly! The result of rain and wind is hypothermia," Vrael explained, his tone serious. "If it were already dark, I''d say snow. That would be better for us. But we''ll likely get sleet. Well, tough luck. It couldn’t get much worse."


    A sense of gratitude rose within Aria. In the midst of danger, he still managed to teach her something. Maybe that’s exactly what they needed right now: a clear head and a plan.


    "Do you think we lost them?" Aria asked, looking anxiously around the darkening forest.


    "I think they''ve pulled back. Soon, three hunters will likely track us down. The rain will give us some time. But it''s quite possible they''ll still find us," Vrael replied, thoughtfully scanning the dense tree canopy around them.


    "Would you win against them?"


    "Fifty-fifty. In a direct fight, I win. But if the assassination is well executed..." he left the sentence unfinished, and Aria felt an unsettling sensation spread in her stomach.


    "Would you have won against Admiral Milram?"


    "My word. You''re suddenly quite talkative," he replied, a brief, amused glance flickering across his face. "We’d probably both be dead. He from my sword, and I from exhaustion, blood loss, and lack of strength. But back to my question: Do you want to learn how to fight with the broadsword?"


    "Yes, I''m ready to learn from you," she replied respectfully. A sense of determination filled her. In that moment, she knew she would give everything to not just survive, but to fight and win.


    "A toast to your will," Vrael said, taking a deep drink from the bottle. "Ah, that hits the spot. But we''re not going to Lenos. I’ve just changed my mind."


    "Why''s that?" Aria asked, looking at him confused.


    "Well, our secret escape wasn''t exactly secret. Your father is probably very angry," he replied with a slightly amused undertone. "And there''s something that seems odd. Why go to such great lengths just for you? I would have expected more indifference."


    "I see. So where are we going then?"


    "As you might know, we''re currently on the outskirts of the Fagorn Forest. To the north lies the Manos Mountains, which are also part of this forest. We''re heading northwest. In about 300 kilometers, we should reach a huge trading city called Tanaroth. It''s the last major human trading city in the north. There are other beings who live further north, and they, of course, have large settlements as well."


    "300 kilometers? That will take us months! Isn''t that a bit much?"


    "No, it''s the safest option for us. If we take this route, we’ll leave the kingdom of Tanerien after about 100 kilometers. As you know, your father is one of the three high counts. They’re only subordinate to the King of Tanerien. On this journey, I’ll train you. I’m fairly familiar with the paths. So we have a good chance of survival."


    "Can I finally know who you are?" she asked, looking at him intensely.