Chapter 27: Counter-Assault, Part Five.

"Under the light of twin moons, the shadow of hatred danced like mist, and in the echo of its laughter, the fate of entire kingdoms was sealed without anyone knowing." —Excerpt from Volume 1 of the Reborn Hero.

Aurora Vortex's Perspective.

In the vicinity of that uninhabited island, the sea roared like an enraged beast, its raging waters rising in titanic columns that threatened to pierce the sky. Hundreds of kilometers around the island, the ocean had turned into a battlefield. The waves, like small tsunamis, crashed against the shores, transforming them into inhospitable and deadly territory. The air, heavy with salt and energy, vibrated with every movement of the two figures clashing at speeds that defied human perception.

Aurora Vortex, sorceress by profession, and Rach, hunter by personal interest, were the architects of that chaos. Their bodies, moved by superhuman forces at near-light speeds, slid and collided in a lethal dance, their outlines barely perceptible within the flickering storm. Each strike, each evasion, triggered a new natural catastrophe. The wind gusts slashed like blades, threatening to uproot what little life still clung to the island.

A young woman with an exposed torso, her muscles sculpted like divine steel, ducked beneath the voracious edge of a katana imbued with Aura. The instant the blade carved through the space she had just occupied, it cleaved the sea in two, opening an abyss that seemed bottomless. It was an awe-inspiring sight, but there was no time to admire it.

Her body leaned, her leg surged forth like the wrath of a storm—faster than lightning, carrying the fury of a contained cataclysm. The sole of her boot slammed against the katana Rach had raised to block. The impact thundered, the unleashed force lifting tons of water behind the dark-furred rabbit, yet he barely moved a few millimeters, his sharp gaze fixed on Aurora.

The sorceress's lips curled into a fleeting smile. Her hand traced a seal in the air, and a sphere of concentrated wind began to spin in her palm. Four blades whirled within its bright core, packed with prana so dense that its mere presence warped the air. The sound that should have been deafening was swallowed by the tempest as she launched the spell at Rach. The distance—nearly nonexistent—ensured he took the full hit.

The impact unleashed a cataclysm: a growing dome of wind materialized, tearing everything within apart with countless, blinding, unavoidable cuts.

The dome expanded to a radius of one kilometer, a voracious storm of blades that spared nothing in its path. Even the water itself was eradicated, leaving a temporary void in the sea. Aurora, with incredible reflexes, escaped in time. However, Rach reappeared—as if the destruction had been nothing more than a mere caress.

The hunter sheathed one of his katanas and attacked with the other. She had to arch her torso at an unnatural angle to evade the slash and, using the momentum, spun to avoid a kick aimed at her stomach. With reckless speed, her fist flew toward the Folkmmurd's face. Once again, the second katana sought to intercept her, but Aurora wasn't one to fall for the same trap twice.

Her fist, burning like a blacksmith's forge, distorted the atmosphere with its heat. The air evaporated in a searing sigh, and with it, a whitish flame emerged, forcing Rach to retreat. Part of his fur, singed, proved that even he wasn't invulnerable to such potent flames.

From the sea, threads of water rose with a will of their own, ensnaring the hunter's legs. This was the opportunity Aurora needed. In the blink of an eye, she was mere centimeters from her opponent, her fist aimed at his troublesome face. Rach's katana moved with instinctive reflexes, managing to wound her arm, but it was a fraction too late.

The punch landed with the force of an enraged deity, sending him hurtling hundreds of kilometers into the ocean.

Had it not been for the surgical precision of the impact, the contained energy in her strike would have been capable of annihilating an entire continent. However, for someone of Rach's caliber, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. In a fraction of a second, he returned, ready to continue the fight. His smile was sharp, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty frenzy.

The battle, far from over, had only just begun.

Thus, the titanic columns of water rose once more. Hundreds of thousands of attacks were unleashed, each dodged or blocked with inhuman precision, all exchanged in a mere instant. When Rach and Aurora finally separated, the latter spat a thin thread of blood into the sea. She wiped her lip with the back of her hand and carefully observed Rach.

Several superficial cuts adorned her arms, torso, and face. Rach was no better off—patches of first-degree burns covered him, and dried blood stained one of his cheeks, a testament to a punch that had grazed his flesh.

With the second of respite granted, both returned to their battle stances. With silent consent, they resumed the charge. Fists and katanas clashed again and again, leaving behind unprecedented devastation. Had they not been at sea, the destruction would have been unimaginable.

Aurora deflected another of Rach's slashes toward the heavens and watched as the very clouds split apart, miles of sky torn asunder. It was not an unfamiliar sight—this had already happened multiple times throughout their confrontation. Even the weather, like a terrified witness, seemed to tremble on the brink of mutation.

She knew she had yet to give her all, keeping her most lethal techniques hidden, just like Rach, who channeled his Aura only into his katanas and not his body. This battle was not a fight to the death but rather a wordless conversation—a destructive dance where every strike was a sharpened argument. Thousands of attacks were exchanged once again in an instant, and the battle continued without interruption.

Meanwhile, on the island, the 23 remaining occupants remained indifferent, ignoring the successive tremors caused by Aurora and Rach's collisions.

"So this is the power of Carmele's protégé. There's no doubt she's at the level required for such an interesting expedition," commented Pyviss Ondemur, the Guild Master of adventurers, whose organization spanned multiple branches across the world. Around him, the hired adventurers—an elite Adamantite-class group—gathered in silence.

"Shouldn't we stop them, Master?" asked Lyria Pyrelis, concern coloring her voice as she observed the tempest of destruction.

Pyviss, perched on the shoulder of Corvus Whitewing, a Folkmmurd of avian descent, smiled with an expression that, combined with his small stature and lineage, made him seem as harmless as he was lethal.

"Don't worry about them. You should focus on yourself. The mission ahead of you will be of incomparable danger," he replied, his smile still present on his pale pink face.

Behind him, an incandescent light devoured the sky.

A miniature sun rose among the clouds, reducing them to ashes in the blink of an eye. The heat it emanated was overwhelming, so intense that the sea itself began to transmute from liquid to gas, and the island was engulfed in flames, as if nature itself was burning in condemnation. The sphere of plasma existed in reality for only a fraction of a second, but its mark was indelible. When it dissipated, the deafening sound of tons of metal crashing reverberated through the air, which groaned and became unbreathable.

Vaelora Firebane, making sure that the fool Ordyr didn't interfere, shook her head and sighed.

"It's obvious whose disciple she is," she murmured as her hand rose solemnly. From her palm to her elbow, multiple golden circles manifested, vibrating with ancient power, runes and arcane engravings illuminating in the dimness.

With a flick of her wrist, the devastation was undone. The destruction reversed, and the island regained its original splendor, as if the chaos had never existed. The magical circles faded, and with the momentary distraction, Ordyr also vanished, leaving only the echo of his laughter lingering in the air.

Vaelora resisted the urge to facepalm and curse her old friend, but a sharp glance was enough to make Zyren Emberfang abandon the idea of doing the same.

"Don't even think about it," she warned.

The recipient of her words merely smiled, raised a hand in a gesture of peace, and leaned once more on his sword, almost as tall as he was. Deep down, he regretted not leaving when Ordyr did.

Arthur Pendragon let out a calm smile. "It seems we'll be able to begin soon."

"As I said, worry about yourself," Pyviss Ondemur repeated, his words directed at all the young adventurers gathered, who were still in shock from the titanic attack unleashed without warning.

In that clearing of death—forged by the rift in reality contained by Arthur's magic—resounding footsteps echoed with clarity. The ground itself sank beneath their mere presence, crushed by the overwhelming weight of their existence.

It was Titania Crustmerd, the Guardian of Eternal Winter.

Her imposing figure stood tall, clad in armor larger than herself—an amalgamation of plates and leather that evoked the era when gods walked among mortals. Over her armor rested a blue dress, open at the legs and adorned with intricate engraved patterns. A white fur mantle draped over her shoulders, cascading down her back like the banner of ancient kings. Her helmet, complete with a visor and ornate details, concealed her face, granting her an air of untouchable majesty.

Straps and belts laden with multiple accessories adorned her attire, while armored gloves and boots safeguarded her limbs. In her hand rested a colossal sword, its mere presence seemingly distorting gravity around it. It weighed at least fifty thousand tons—an armament worthy of a titan. Her bearing was as formidable as the eternal winter she represented from the frozen lands of Iskandra.

"I report that I have completed my preparations. I am ready."

Her voice was the sound of ice fracturing in the tundra, a frozen whisper resonating with the gravity of an immutable prophecy. Titania Crustmerd, the Guardian of Eternal Winter, inclined her head slightly toward the most powerful existence of her era, her posture unwavering, her eyes like frozen lakes reflecting raw power.

Arthur Pendragon observed her with a subtle smile. The sight before him bordered on the absurd—a young woman, 1.74 meters in height, clad in colossal armor, with plates as massive as the walls of an ancient fortress.

"I see that you are."

The examination was brief but sufficient. Without another word, Titania stepped toward the rift in reality, her sword—a colossus of metal capable of crushing mountains—sinking into the ground with a muffled impact, dampened by the magic preventing it from collapsing under its own weight. Her gaze remained fixed on the rift, ready to face whatever lay beyond. To protect her homeland, Iskandra, she was willing to do anything.

And then, it arrived.

A seismic blow shook the clearing. It was the roar of the world itself, a tremor that reverberated through the bones of those present. Titania paid it no mind. Her eyes remained locked onto the rift, her mind beyond fear, her will unshaken—she would never be subdued. Not even when two colossal pillars of water surged toward the heavens, a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying to any who might have witnessed it, given the sheer magnitude of those torrents.

Titania sighed. A breath that turned the air into crystal, a frozen vapor sculpting intricate frost filigrees upon the void. Her hands gripped the hilt of her sword with a hold firm enough to grasp fate itself.

Seconds earlier, back at sea…

A titanic figure, nearly three meters tall, moved—crossing kilometers in an instant—and landed forcefully upon the ocean, not far from where two figures continued their battle. Waves rose hundreds of meters high, fierce currents formed, and a booming laugh echoed through the air.

"Nothing like warming up the muscles before a good fight," he said, his voice rumbling like thunder.

This individual was none other than Ordyr Blackthorne, known as the God of Combat, who, thanks to his Aura, stood effortlessly upon the salty waters.

Aurora and Rach felt his arrival, but they had no time to react. Two massive hands seized their faces, and with a casual motion, he hurled them. They were launched like meteors toward the ocean depths, the pressure crushing their surroundings upon impact. The sea howled in agony, fractures spread across the seabed, while colossal water columns ascended into the stratosphere, threatening to rend the very sky apart.

Ordyr, moving faster than light itself, smiled. His white teeth gleamed under the sun's radiance. With an unsettling calm, he awaited the return of the two young warriors.

Aurora felt the impact course through her spine like a lightning bolt of pain. Real pain, more intense than anything Rach had ever inflicted upon her. It was a warning.

She could not win.

She knew it the instant her startled mind processed what had happened. She was not in the same league. Ordyr had reached the threshold of 16 stars—the third awakening—a barrier that separated mere warriors from true monsters.

The first awakening occurred upon surpassing the milestone of 7 stars—a feat not all could achieve. For most, their journey ended there, stagnating at the peak of their mediocrity, incapable of transcending their mortal limits. Comparing a 7-star warrior to one with 8 was absurd; exceptions were rare and distant. The first awakening was the moment one overcame their own boundaries, and each subsequent awakening elevated one's power to unimaginable heights.

For her, matching Rach had never been a real problem. He had not yet crossed the boundary of the third awakening. But Ordyr... He was an unfathomable abyss.

The thought lasted only a fraction of a second. It didn't matter.

She emerged from the water in an explosion of steam, her body aligned with her purpose. Her neck cracked with a few movements, releasing the tension. Her eyes sharpened. Her determination did not waver. No matter what, she would fight—because that was the path of sorcery.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Rach, who gave her a solemn nod. And just like that, a truce had been sealed, an alliance had formed. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," or so some said.

Aurora's hand rose, her index and middle fingers intertwining in a seal.

"Hear the roar of the heavens, where thunder sings its eternal hymn," she began to recite, her voice resonating with a magical cadence.

Meanwhile, Rach infused his body with Aura and launched a direct attack, his katana consuming all existing light.

"Let absolute will descend, and let its judgment be etched into my flesh," Aurora continued, her voice growing in power. The air around her began to vibrate, charged with electric energy.

"Let my veins be rivers of storms, let my skin become the shell of a titan, let my bones withstand the echo of its fury."

"Speed of the tempest, strength of thunder, vision of lightning..." [Requiem of the Gods!]

With the final invocation, purple lightning completely enveloped her. Her veins pulsed with energy, her hair shone a brilliant amethyst, writhing as if alive, and her eyes, glowing with violet radiance, began to spin like two vortices of absolute destruction.

She moved.

Time seemed to freeze. Not a single flash remained in her wake. Five, maybe seven times faster than light? It was impossible to tell. Her senses were incapable of fully capturing that speed. In less than an instant, the sole of her boot was mere centimeters from striking Ordyr's face—if not for his colossal forearm intercepting the blow like an impenetrable wall.

The seas trembled, and the clouds were torn apart. Had it not been for the magic that Vaelora Firebane had raised after Ordyr's departure, the island itself would have been reduced to rubble. Even so, earthquakes could have spread across the continent had Aurora not contained her power.

The God of Combat, who firmly held Rach's katana in his other hand, opened his eyes with a faint expression of surprise. That strike—he felt it. A destructive energy spread from the sole of the Sorceress's boot, crawling across his body, threatening to disintegrate him, to reduce him to forgotten ashes in some forsaken corner of the cosmos. But the sheer physical superiority of Ordyr Blackthorne prevailed. He withstood the assault, though a faint tingling crept through his muscles—an echo of something seeking to devour him from within.

All of this happened before even light itself could react. Ordyr had barely gathered his thoughts when Aurora appeared at the height of his skull, as if time and space were mere playthings in her hands. She had not teleported—he knew that. She was simply so fast that an ordinary mind could not follow her movements.

A devastating kick aimed for his temple, but Ordyr blocked it, catching her foot in his titanic hand. His grip was absolute, strong enough to disintegrate common matter—but Aurora was no common matter. She was more resilient.

With a single, brutal motion, he hurled her into the skies, giving himself the necessary time to analyze the technique the sorceress had deployed. Again, that corrosive energy coursed through his being, trying to take hold, to rip his very existence from the fabric of reality. He successfully repelled it, yet the discomfort remained—a repulsive tingling that should not be there.

His brow furrowed. That technique did not simply seek to destroy—it sought to eradicate vital force, to extinguish it absolutely. And if it could not do so instantly, it would cling to its target like a parasite until its purpose was fulfilled, draining life little by little.

It was, without a doubt, a lethal technique, worthy of a true sorcerer.

If Aurora had been fighting someone of her level or barely superior, that technique would have been an absolute victory unless a means to counter it was found. And Ordyr knew it.

He reevaluated his impression of Carmele's protégé—already high to begin with. Comparing similar ages, that girl had already surpassed his younger self in every way.

And that... was something worthy of attention.

Aurora, with an estimated 12 stars, was able to match Rach, who had 15—a feat that was already incredible in itself. But brushing against the realm of 16 stars was absolute madness. This girl was a peerless genius, one born only once every millennium. That was Ordyr Blackthorne's new evaluation of Aurora Vortex. Without a doubt, Carmele had hit the jackpot by taking her as a disciple.

Meanwhile, lost in these thoughts, Ordyr never neglected his battle against Rach. A mere instant later, Rach too was sent hurtling into the distance by a titanic strike.

In the skies, a fleeting purple flash shone for just a second before the celestial dome was swallowed in a darkness riddled with stars. The air, as if it had never existed, was eradicated.

Aurora crashed against a hard surface. A crater hundreds of kilometers wide formed around her, strange dust rising in a clumsy, lazy dance, as if floating in a place where gravity itself was on the verge of collapse. Gigantic fissures spread beyond the freshly created crater, and as she attempted to move, she realized she was embedded deep within an unknown material.

Strangely enough, she swore she had moved half a centimeter despite being completely still.

And why was she buried so deep in the first place? That in itself was odd, given that she had been flung skyward by a powerful grip on her ankle.

With a processing speed bordering on the divine, Aurora understood her location in the blink of an eye. She burrowed her way out, excavating kilometers of that strange material with shocking ease. And then, as she emerged, she was overwhelmed by the spectacle before her.

From her position, she could see her home planet suspended in the vast cosmic expanse. The sight was majestic—the continents outlined with astonishing precision, even the feared Dark Continent, that domain cloaked in spatial distortion magic. A place whose nature defied all logic, its size an enigma: was it as vast as the entire planet, or as immense as the sun itself? That was still unknown.

She took a moment to absorb the grandeur of her home. The absence of air posed no problem; a simple wind spell would suffice to fix that, though she had no intention of staying long enough to bother. Her gaze lifted toward the other moon of her world, and after calculating her position, she determined she had landed on Proditia, the elder sister of the Twin Moons.

Without further delay, her body was engulfed in overwhelming purple lightning, and she vanished as if she had never been there, storing the image in her mind to recall at another time.

Perhaps she should return here someday? It was a good place to clear one's thoughts, or even train without distractions. Bringing her apprentice here would be interesting—if this view had amazed her, she couldn't begin to imagine the look on Brián's face if he ever saw such a sight.

With a faint smile, she descended back toward the battlefield in just 0.14 seconds.

And so, the elder sister of the Twin Moons gained a new adornment to boast, one that would become evident to many once night fell that day.

She reappeared at sea level, her presence sending ripples across the water. Without hesitation, she launched a punch toward Ordyr's torso. He blocked it effortlessly.

From an indeterminate direction, Rach emerged with a downward slash, his katana vibrating with a devastating aura. His blade descended toward the God of Combat's neck, but the edge was halted before it could even graze his flesh—suppressed by Ordyr's own Aura.

Rach clicked his tongue and withdrew his weapon before the blade suffered irreparable damage. Both of them retreated.

Before them, Ordyr Blackthorne stood smiling—immovable, like a mountain.

"If you have something that will let us land a hit, now's the time to use it," Rach said, his gaze sharp and filled with determination.

Aurora nodded. "I have something, but it'll only give us one strike. Just one."

Rach grinned. "Then we'd better put everything into that single attack."

Unknown to Ordyr—or rather, dismissed as part of Aurora's unique technique—thousands of microscopic particles danced in the air around the God of Combat. Particles indistinguishable to the naked eye that, in an instant, converged—imprisoning Ordyr within a chrysalis of purple crystal, its opalescent glow rivaling the light of the stars.

The structure was harder than adamantite, colder than the interstellar void. But for Ordyr, it was merely a fleeting inconvenience.

With a grunt of amusement, he flexed his muscles, and the chrysalis shattered into a rain of shards that sliced through the air like daggers. However, that brief moment of immobility was enough.

Aurora and Rach moved as one, synchronized like predators closing in on their prey.

Rach channeled all his Aura into his two katanas, their blades gleaming with a dark radiance.

Aurora, in turn, invoked her Trait at maximum potency. Her right arm became enveloped in amethyst crystals that grew like dragon's claws, expanding monstrously in size.

The combined strike was cataclysmic.

Aurora's crystallized fist collided with Ordyr's chest at the same time Rach's katanas traced a lethal arc toward his abdomen. The resulting shockwave vaporized tons of water, creating a spherical vacuum in the ocean that lasted only a blink before the sea rushed to fill it with a deafening roar. For the first time in this battle, Ordyr Blackthorne was forced to step back. A shallow cut, from which a thin thread of blood seeped, appeared on his abdomen. On his chest, Aurora's purple crystals embedded themselves like stalactites, sinking into his flesh and claiming another tribute of his crimson essence.

The price was steep: Aurora's crystallized arm exploded into a thousand fragments, and Rach's katanas shattered, reduced to metallic sparks that fizzled out in the salty air. Rach, however, did not blink, nor did he show the slightest concern. His weapons had already begun to regenerate, the metal mending itself with an ethereal glow.

[Laughter.]

A chorus of savage laughter erupted from Ordyr. It was not mockery, but pure delight, like a lion roaring at the discovery of worthy prey. "Good, good! That combined attack—I actually felt it!" he bellowed, his voice making the air vibrate like a war drum. "Otherwise, this wouldn't be any fun!" Before his words had fully resonated, he vanished. Only his grin remained in the air, a ghostly imprint of white teeth and lips twisted in ecstasy.

"What a damn monster!" was all the Sorceress had time to think before she was forced to raise her arms to block a punch the size of her skull.

The sound was that of a mountain splitting apart. Every bone in her body groaned in protest as she was sent hurtling like a comet, tracing an arc of fire and steam across the horizon.

Rach fared no better. He received a brutal kick that he managed to block, but even so, his body was launched away with a silent cry of pain. Yet neither of them took more than half a millisecond to return to the fight.

The dance of power resumed. Purple flashes and dark shadows orbited around the nearly three-meter-tall colossus, seeking to wound him, but their efforts were in vain. Every strike, every slash, every spell faded against the impregnable wall that was Ordyr Blackthorne.

Tired of dodging and blocking, Ordyr went on the offensive. In an impossible-to-follow movement, he caught both of his opponents by the ankles and, with overwhelming force, smashed them together. A sickening crack tore through the air, followed by a violent spatter of blood.

The resulting shockwave was devastating. A wild gale lifted the ocean waves, transforming them into a tsunami capable of wiping out entire cities. But its apocalyptic fury dissipated before reaching the coast, shattered by the very bodies of Aurora and Rach, who were hurled like living weapons against the colossal wall of water.

The impact sent a torrent of droplets in all directions, unleashing an artificial downpour. Despite the punishment they had endured, both of them stood up, staggering, only to hurl themselves back into the fight.

Aurora, aware of the insatiable mana consumption of her Technique, knew she could not maintain it indefinitely. She estimated 27 minutes before exhaustion set in… and that was if she avoided casting other spells. But refusing to use magic was foolish—if she wanted a chance against Ordyr, she had to burn through every last drop of her prana.

Rach, fully aware of the disparity in skill, gripped his katanas tightly, the blades now inexplicably restored—a unique trait of his weapons. He gazed seriously at the God of Combat, who seemed to be treating the battle with exasperating calm. To him, this was nothing more than a warm-up.

Without a need for words, Hunter and Sorceress launched their attack once more, moving with absolute precision, fitting together like two parts of a lethal mechanism. Each covered the other's weaknesses, for in their brief engagement, they had already deciphered one another's fighting styles.

Purple flashes and dark shadows streaked across the battlefield, contrasting against Ordyr's dull gray skin. The dance of absolute power resumed.

Hundreds of thousands of blows were exchanged within minutes.

Hundreds of thousands of attacks were blocked or dodged with inhuman precision.

Ordyr Blackthorne displayed unparalleled mastery, without the need for elaborate techniques. His sheer brutality and absolute control were enough to maintain his dominance.

Aurora and Rach proved their worth, facing him without yielding an inch, matching each other's intensity blow for blow.

And yet, neither the Sorceress nor the Hunter revealed their best cards. Because this was not a battle to the death.

The devastation would have been absolute, if not for someone—possessing a mind sharp enough—having implanted protective barriers around the battlefield, confining the damage within a sealed domain.

"Well, you big idiot, you've had your fun." The voice, incorporeal as a whisper from another world, reverberated through the area. Then, a staff-blade materialized in the midst of the battle, suspended above the ocean's surface, as if time itself hesitated to let it fall.

Aurora's eyes widened, recognizing the magic instantly. Her instincts roared, demanding she flee… but logic prevailed when she tied that power to a familiar face. And moments later, the figure emerged.

The Monarch of the Draconids stepped through a portal of golden runes, clad in her signature armor and robes, both gilded. She stood at 2.34 meters, her presence filling the space like a colossus. Another staff-blade manifested in her hand, identical to the first, vibrating with an energy that made the very essence of time tremble. With implacable elegance, the Monarch of the Draconids positioned herself beside Ordyr, pressing the tip of her staff against the chest of the God of Combat.

"Don't you agree, dear Ordyr?" she asked, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness as her staff pushed against his chest. The so-called God of Combat felt a chill slither down his spine, an instinct for survival stirring within him.

"Or would you rather force me to use magic?" Vaelora Firebane said, smiling with innocent gentleness.

Ordyr laughed, but it was a tense laugh. "Come now, come now, Vaelora. There's nothing better than getting the blood boiling before facing our enemies."

The Monarch of the Draconids sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Explaining things to this idiot was like yelling at a wall; her words went in one ear and out the other.

She turned her gaze toward Carmele's protégée and Rach. What she saw made her frown: open wounds, dried blood, bruises scattered across every inch of their skin. Their bodies were a map of instant scars, a testament to the torment they had endured. Fists had chiseled their flesh, and likely fractured bones served as a fragile framework for their battered forms.

Anger burned in her core. How could Ordyr have pushed them to this state when they were on the verge of an incursion of unimaginable magnitude? She swallowed the shout forming in her chest and instead let out a sigh. There would be time for reprimands later. Now, something more urgent required attention.

"It's time to return. The incursion is approaching, and we must be ready."

Without another word, she turned on her heels and began walking, heading toward the rendezvous point with the rest of the assault team. No matter the distance that separated them; in the blink of an eye, she would be there.

But then, she stopped.

"Oh, and by the way…"

Her gaze lifted to the skies.

"Don't think you'll go unpunished for leaving yet another ornament on Proditia."

She kept walking, ignoring the shiver that, this time, ran down Ordyr's spine.