Ambush At Dusk

The road stretched endlessly beneath the caravan's wheels, the rhythmic clatter of hooves filling the crisp morning air. Elias sat at the edge of the carriage, eyes scanning the horizon. Beside him, Darius rode his black stallion, ever-watchful, his presence like a sentinel.

Months of relentless training had shaped Elias into a stronger fighter, but despite the progress, a gnawing feeling lingered. Strength alone wouldn't be enough—he needed to survive the journey to the Capital, a place where power-hungry clans waited to crush any sign of weakness. Every moment was a test, and Elias was beginning to understand that survival wasn't just about power—it was about knowing when to wield it.

The attack came just before dusk.

A chill wind rustled through the trees, and shadows flickered at the edges of the forest. Then, the hiss of projectiles shattered the silence. Darius reacted instantly, deflecting a dagger with a swift motion of his gauntlet. "Ambush!" he bellowed.

Figures in dark cloaks emerged, their blades gleaming in the dim light. Assassins.

Elias's heart raced. He leaped from the carriage, flames igniting at his fingertips. The fire burned hotter than before, a flicker of his growing power. He sidestepped a sword thrust, his body moving on instinct, and retaliated with a burst of fire that sent his attacker stumbling back.

Darius was already a storm, cutting through the enemies with the precision of a seasoned warrior. "Elias, stay close!" he ordered, voice steady, never betraying the urgency of the situation.

Elias's breath came in shallow gasps as he summoned the wind to propel himself backward, narrowly dodging another assassin's strike. His mana core hummed within him, it pulsed. Careful, he reminded himself. I can't afford to drain it too quickly.

A deadly blur of blades rushed toward him. Elias raised his hands, calling on water to form a protective wall. The assassin's twin blades collided with it, slowing the attack just enough for Elias to duck and twist away. He countered with a gust of wind, knocking the assassin off balance.

Another assailant emerged from the shadows, aiming for Elias's back. Before Elias could react, Darius intercepted with a brutal strike, cutting down the threat in one smooth motion. "You're pushing yourself too hard, boy!" Darius growled.

Elias's jaw clenched. I can't afford to hold back. His body surged with adrenaline, and he reached deep into his mana reserves. The world around him seemed to blur as he summoned a storm—a mixture of wind and water, swirling in a chaotic vortex. The wind howled, and the raindrops crackled with static, forming streaks of lightning that arced through the thickened air. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to send the nearest assassins stumbling back in confusion.

The remaining enemies hesitated. One of them gave a sharp whistle, and they retreated into the shadows with practiced precision. They vanished as quickly as they had come, leaving only the remnants of their assault behind.

Elias stood in the midst of the aftermath, chest heaving, his mana nearly depleted. Sweat stung his eyes, but his mind was sharp. Too close, he thought, wiping his brow. I need to be more efficient.

Darius surveyed the fallen assassins, his face impassive. "Skilled, but not elite."

Elias frowned, glancing at the abandoned weapons scattered across the ground. "Who do you think sent them?"

Darius's eyes narrowed as he nudged an assassin's discarded weapon with his boot. "No proof… but their style, their coordination—it reeks of the Varian Clan."

Elias's breath hitched. The Varian Clan? Though there was no open conflict between their clans, it was clear they had no intention of leaving him untouched. The realization hit like a cold wave.

"But we're not at war with them," Elias said, more to himself than to Darius.

"Doesn't mean they don't want you dead," Darius replied grimly. His gaze swept the forest around them. "This wasn't a public strike. It was meant to be quiet—efficient. Someone's trying to erase you without leaving a trace."

Elias's fists clenched, the weight of his responsibility sinking in. This was just the beginning. The path to the Capital was fraught with danger, and with each step, the stakes would only rise higher.

Darius mounted his horse, his expression unreadable. "We should move before they come back. Next time, we might not be so lucky."

Elias nodded, his resolve hardening. He climbed back into the carriage, taking one last look at the clearing where the battle had unfolded. The road to the Capital would be longer, more treacherous than he had ever imagined. But with every challenge, his power would grow. And he would meet whatever came next—head-on.