Relentless pursuit

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the winding roads leading out of Mesarith City. The once-bustling streets had quieted down, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Mesarith, one of the most prosperous cities in the region, was well-connected by heavily guarded highways. These roads, meant to protect travelers, were now the very thing blocking Damien's escape.

"Shhh! Quiet, everyone..." Devrok's voice was low but commanding.

Immediately, the group fell into an eerie silence. Every breath felt heavier, every rustle of fabric seemed deafening. The air around them grew suffocating with tension. It was a miracle they had managed to slip out of the city unnoticed, but their luck ran thin as soon as they hit the main road.

A patrol unit was stationed ahead, stopping every traveler for inspection.

Damien narrowed his eyes, observing the situation from the shadows. Three heavily armed men stood before a caravan, their dark armor reflecting the torchlight. The leader, a burly man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, sneered as he kicked one of the large wooden crates.

"What's in the boxes?" His voice carried a sharp edge of authority.

The merchants trembled under his gaze. An old man, hunched with age, stepped forward, his wrinkled hands gripping the hem of his robe.

"S-Sir, this box contains the meat of Apocalypse Beasts..."

The guard's expression darkened. A sinister smirk played on his lips.

"Where is the formation suppressing the scent?" He tapped the crate with his boot, then glanced back at his men. "You do realize how dangerous it is to transport beast meat without proper containment, don't you?"

The old man gulped, his face paling. He had heard rumors about the guards' corruption but had never thought he would experience it firsthand.

Among the merchants, a young man—likely the old man's son—stood rigid, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burned with barely contained fury.

The guard chuckled, noticing his defiant stance. "Oh? You've got something to say, boy?"

The young man's anger finally erupted. He took a step forward, his voice filled with righteous fury.

"This is extortion! We followed all the rules!"

The old man's eyes widened in horror. "No! Stop—"

Crack!

The guard's hand moved like a viper, gripping the young man's throat in an iron grasp. In one swift motion, he twisted. A sickening snap echoed in the cold night air.

A gurgled breath. Then silence.

The lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"Noooooo!" The old man let out a heart-wrenching cry and fell to his knees beside his son's corpse.

Damien watched, his expression unreadable.

He had seen it countless times before—power abused, lives taken with impunity. He sighed, the weight of reality pressing down on him once more.

"The weak have no hope of resisting."

This was a truth he had learned long ago. In a world where law bent to the will of the strong, survival was dictated by power alone.

Just then, Devrok's voice rang through the silence, low but filled with steely determination.

"Attack. Now. Don't let them react."

The guards around him hesitated. Fear flickered in their eyes, but there was no other option.

"Kill! Kill!" The battle cry tore through the still night.

Neigh!

Horses charged forward, their hooves pounding against the ground like rolling thunder. Devrok led the assault, his blade reflecting the moonlight as he raised it high.

Damien and Niomi remained at the back, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any unforeseen threats.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

The guards barely had time to draw their weapons before the first strike landed. A sharp neigh split the air as a warhorse reared, its powerful hooves crashing down on a guard's chest with a bone-shattering crunch.

Blades slashed through the darkness, cutting through flesh and armor alike.

The scarred guard, still standing over the old man's trembling form, barely had time to turn before a silver flash carved a deep line across his throat. He staggered back, clutching at the gaping wound, his mouth opening in a silent scream before he collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

Within moments, the patrol was annihilated. Their corpses littered the road, crimson soaking into the dirt.

Damien's group didn't stop to admire their work.

Without looking back, they vanished into the night.

The scent of blood lingered in the air, thick and intoxicating. It wouldn't be long before it attracted the creatures lurking in the wastelands.

Devrok's voice rang out again. "Stay alert!"

A chill ran down Damien's spine. Something felt... wrong.

They weren't out of danger yet.

Elsewhere...

A few miles behind, a group of riders thundered down the road, kicking up clouds of dust as they moved with purpose.

At the front of the group, the Crown Prince of the Blue Hammer Kingdom pulled his horse to an abrupt stop. His sharp gaze scanned the scene before him—mangled corpses, blood-soaked earth, and the lingering traces of battle.

He dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the damp ground as he walked toward one of the bodies. A quick glance told him all he needed to know.

He scowled.

"They were here..."

His men looked at him, awaiting orders.

"Damn it..." His grip tightened around his reins. He turned toward his soldiers, eyes burning with fury. "Quickly! Chase them down!"

At his command, the riders surged forward, their silhouettes fading into the dark horizon.

The hunt had begun.

..

Time passed in agonizing silence.

Damien's group rode hard through the night, their breaths heavy, their bodies tense.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the towering walls of Valrinth City came into view.

Their sanctuary.

A collective sigh of relief passed through the group.

But even as the city's gates stood open before them, Damien couldn't shake the unease settling deep in his gut.

Just then Damien heard sound of activity followed by loud voices.

"Open the gate.."

"The princes are back..."