Episode 11.5: Under the Sign of the Siege

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We slept little. Or maybe we just pretended to sleep, because in reality, we all stayed alert through the night, one eye on our backpacks and the other on the shadows cast by the Lysae lanterns embedded in the rock. The cave smelled of stale dampness, old metal… and restrained tension.

—Wake up. We move in fifteen minutes —Darkel announced at dawn, his voice firm and his gaze hard.

Ylwen handed me a small folded piece of paper while she prepared her gear. I read it sideways: "Giber told me something doesn't add up with the maps. I'll explain later."I glanced at her, barely nodded, and we continued with the routine as if nothing had happened. I knew if Ylwen suspected something, it was for an important reason.

The march south wasn't easy. The terrain was steep and wet, and more than once we nearly tumbled down the hillside. We were divided into three units: two from Falhmer and ours, mixed to "build trust," according to Darkel. But to me, it was obvious: they wanted to keep a closer eye on us.

As we descended a steep slope, Darlon, walking beside me, muttered:

—I don't like this. They sent us straight to the escape point, where they surely have their best men… or a trap.

—I know —I said without looking at him—. But if we retreat now, we confirm every suspicion. And if we go forward, at least we can see with our own eyes what the hell they're hiding.

—What if they kill us as soon as we cross the river?

—Then at least we take some of them with us.

The conversation ended there.

Two hours later, we reached a wooded area near the Gorgol border. An old stone temple, already in ruins, marked the meeting point. Roots had swallowed the columns, and the carvings were covered in moss. But it still held a strange feeling of solemnity… and danger.

The deeper we ventured, the more sinister everything became. The trees emitted a peculiar scent, and my gut feeling grew with each step. My footsteps thundered like giant stomps—not because they were loud, but because nothing else was heard: only the whisper of the wind and the crackling of dry leaves.

—Are we not there yet? I thought we weren't that far —I asked, frowning.

—Why that face? We're taking a small detour. Did you see the condition of the path we were supposed to take, or not? —Darkel replied, glancing at me sideways.

Tension in the group thickened. Maro and Darlon were clearly nervous, even more so with the constant presence of the Falhmer clan group. Ylwen, meanwhile, didn't leave my side an inch, as if ready to give her life to protect me.

—Ylwen, if you stick so close and look at them like that, they'll keep suspecting us. It'll be harder to stay calm. Remember, we have signs to communicate anything we need —I said, giving her a small smile.

—Okay… it's just that I don't want to leave you alone —she answered, with a genuinely worried expression.

—Don't worry. The only one allowed to kill me is you —I whispered, with a crooked smile and raised eyebrows.

That seemed to calm her down, and she moved a few steps away. I, for my part, decided to approach Darkel to ask some questions about what was happening. But as I tried to get closer, a sentinel from the treetop shouted, spotting the enemies. It seemed we had arrived.

—Hey! We're getting too close. If we keep going like this, they'll spot us. We have to wait for the attack team —I said, grabbing his shoulder to stop him.

He stopped, looked at my hand, and knocked it away roughly.

—Don't ever do that again… —he said, with a sinister look.

At that moment, I gave two signals: one to regroup, and another to prepare to escape… and if necessary, to kill.

Turning to look at Darkel, I shot him a glance and asked Giber if he had a rescue team ready in case Darkel turned against us. He didn't answer, but his look made it clear we were surrounded by allies… just in case they did something stupid.

—Darkel, I understand we're about to enter hostile territory, but if you don't treat your allies with respect, don't expect anything positive afterward —I said, frowning at him.

—What are you talking about? Better prepare for the siege. We're about to advance against the ene—

—Darkel! Idiot! —I cut him off sharply, stepping forward—. I told you to wait for the allies. They'll make the entrance, not you. They'll move soon, so don't ruin it by acting without thinking.

At that moment, a huge rumble sounded, and when we realized, Darkel sent someone up a tree to check if the allies were already attacking the enemy base. He and I climbed up too and watched carefully… until we saw them.

—They're running towards us. Looks like they have an emergency exit near us —Darkel said, turning to me.

—That means we're in the best position —I replied before throwing myself to the ground.

—Prepare yourselves! There's an enemy emergency exit nearby, and their leader might come through it. We must capture that bastard alive! —I shouted, getting back on my feet.

—Everyone listen! Everyone here is important. I don't want anyone to die, and I want you to work as a team regardless of your clan. Remember, the battlefield is not a game! —Darkel shouted, rallying his allies.

—Get ready, someone's coming! —a gray-haired young man alerted.

Turning around, a pack of them had already emerged from the trees, and without wasting time, Darkel yelled:

—Attack!

At his cry, everyone charged. They were a group of forty. We were barely twenty-five. We were vastly outnumbered.

Luckily, I had already given the regroup signal, so my team stayed together and started the battle covering each other's backs. Giber, who wasn't aware of our strategy, stayed on the sidelines, attacking only when necessary. That was very smart of him.

Although they were more than us, Darkel had some very good people. There were two lightning-type attackers who were fast, and when they combined, they exploded, electrocuting everyone nearby. The nearby trunks crackled and fell burnt, while the enemies staggered, stunned by the shock.

I quickly formed three layers of Lysae Sout, feeling the energy cling to my skin like a pulsing electric impulse. I unsheathed my sword with a metallic whistle and launched into the attack alongside Darlon, who had trained this technique with me until his feet became almost as fast as the wind.

The ground cracked under every step, damp and full of roots. I approached two enemies. With a sudden spin, I swept the first one with a kick that kicked up dirt and dry leaves, knocking him down. His muffled scream was lost among the forest echoes. Without giving him time to react, I drove my sword into his leg; the impact felt like hitting a sack of tough meat.

Darlon appeared by my side, his eyes glowing with Lysae. He extended both hands, and a gust of cutting air whistled through the atmosphere, launching invisible blades that struck the second enemy. He screamed, writhed, and flew into a nearby tree with a heavy thud that echoed across the clearing.

Ylwen and Maro advanced determinedly. The air around them vibrated with concentrated energy. Although they hadn't fully mastered Lysae Sout, their advance was sure.

Maro clenched his fists, and an energy layer roared on his arms like a dull drum. He extended his fingers, attracting rock fragments from the ground that stuck like living armor. He jumped forward, leaving a small crater under his feet. With a direct blow, he crushed an enemy's shoulder; the sound of dislocated bone was sharp and clear. Then he threw his rocky arm in a powerful punch that sent the enemy flying among branches, leaving a trail of leaves falling like feathers.

Without stopping, Maro formed another stone arm. You could hear the rocks clumping with a faint squeak and snap, as if something ancient was awakening.

Ylwen, on her part, formed a Lysae layer that spread over her body like a second bluish skin. The air around her became wetter, denser. In a whisper, she extracted moisture from the environment, forming floating spheres of water. When thrown, they cut through the air like liquid projectiles, exploding against a group of enemies. The crash produced a watery roar and made them slip and stumble.

She took advantage of that moment. She condensed the water into a staff that hummed softly as it moved, adopting the elegant and fluid posture of the practitioners from the House of the Flowing River.

She spun among them like a living current. Her staff swept the ground with force, knocking one down. Then, she spun on her own axis, hooked the fallen one with one end of the weapon, and hurled him through the air. She jumped after him, wind roaring through her clothes, and descended with a precise, dry strike to the stomach, pinning him to the ground with the force of a waterfall.

Just when I thought everything was going well, several burly men emerged from the trees. Their defined muscles and posture showed they were much better trained. They charged straight at Darkel, who met them with a powerful icy punch. They began exchanging intense blows; Darkel threw high kicks that came down like powerful axes. Each hit was precise, freezing their legs, a reflection of the harsh training he had endured.

Then a sturdy man appeared, whose mere presence was intimidating. His colossal size filled the space, and he took a defensive stance, covering his center and face with both hands, reminding me of the Toffs clan practitioners' techniques.

Suddenly, he raised a foot and slammed it into the ground, causing a tremor that made my eardrums vibrate and an overwhelming roar. Then he lifted a giant boulder and, with a brutal strike, shattered it into fragments. Like throwing stones, he began hurling each fragment at Darkel, who dodged with surprising grace, moving with the fluidity and softness of a breeze caressing a calm lake.

Without losing rhythm, Darkel attacked. He opened both hands and formed four water balls the size of a human head, instantly freezing them, turning them into sharp points he threw like spears.

But the man didn't back down. He stomped again, opening a crater at his feet, in which he submerged, then closed it forcefully. These guys were real monsters.

I saw another enemy charging at Darkel from the side, and he seemed unaware. Without thinking, I launched myself into the attack, quickly wrapping myself in three layers of Lysae Sout. Using the wind to glide with agility, I approached the opponent swiftly. When he noticed me, he spun in the air and launched a blazing flame from his fist. Just as he planted a foot on the ground, he lunged at me with brutal force.

Seeing the flame, I reacted instantly: I brandished my sword and unleashed a cutting wind attack that split the fire in two, followed by an explosion that violently sent the flames skyward.

Without wasting time, I infused my sword with Lysae and began channeling wind through it, shaping a sharp, cutting blade, sharp enough to slice iron like butter.

He pulled out two sticks, ignited them, and attacked. When I threw the first slash, something strange happened… neither stick was cut. It was something I had never seen before with any hard material against which I had tested this technique.

But I kept slashing, and he blocked them with both sticks at an impressive speed. Each clash produced a sharp screech, and the crashes echoed through the trees like a warning of the battle's intensity.

The wet ground worked against both of us, making us lose balance and destabilize with each step. Then I implemented a technique I learned in the House of the Wind: using Lysae to create a layer of wind beneath my feet, I began to rise slightly, gaining stability and better terrain control to continue the attack.

Suddenly, a huge mass of water surged at us without warning, crashing with force. To my surprise, the water passed through me as if it wanted to avoid hurting me, but it dragged the enemy, extinguishing his flames and leaving him defenseless.

As the torrent passed me and crashed on the ground, the water froze instantly, trapping the enemy in an ice prison, immobile and powerless.

I didn't waste the opportunity: I plunged my sword through the ice and his body, as if stabbing the blade into a frozen pond.

When the last enemy fell, a dry laugh echoed among the trees. It wasn't a battle cry or a roar of rage. It was… amusement. As if all this had been a game.

—Well, well —a voice came from the treetops—. I thought the Falhmer would give you more trouble. But well… —a silhouette jumped down silently among the bodies of their own allies—. Now the fun begins.