Vivian did not move when the three figures stepped out from the trees.
For a moment, the clearing held its breath.
The faint grey light of early dawn filtered weakly through the branches above, leaving long shadows between the trunks. The figures walked through those shadows slowly, deliberately, their shapes shifting between darkness and pale light as they approached.
Vivian's eyes followed every step.
"Lucas," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the fatigue she could feel creeping through her limbs. "Keep watching the forest. The one who threw the spear hasn't shown himself yet."
Lucas gave a short nod.
He did not look toward the enemies in front of them. Instead, he shifted half a step beside the old man and angled his body toward the trees behind them, sword lowered but ready, his gaze sweeping the dark spaces between branches and rocks.
The old man glanced at him nervously, clearly expecting the young warrior to turn toward the approaching threat.
Lucas didn't.
He trusted Vivian.
Ahead of them, the three figures continued forward.
They did not rush.
They did not speak.
Yet something about the way they moved felt… wrong.
Not clumsy like ordinary bandits.
Not cautious like hunters stalking prey.
Their steps carried a strange, quiet confidence.
Vivian felt it too.
Even through the dull ache in her body and the lingering sickness tightening her chest, she could sense the aura surrounding them.
Heavy.
Predatory.
She adjusted her stance slightly, shifting the weight of her sword in her hand.
One of the shadows lifted an arm.
A dull glow bloomed in its palm.
Fire.
The flames gathered quickly, swirling tighter and brighter as the figure drew its arm back.
Vivian's expression hardened.
"Wind Style," she said calmly, her voice cutting cleanly through the morning air.
"Thirteenth Form — Zephyr's Breath."
Her sword moved in a smooth, practiced arc.
As the blade traced a circle before her, the air itself answered.
Wind surged outward from the motion, spiraling rapidly around her body. The current thickened as it spun, forming a thin, translucent ring that hummed softly with compressed pressure.
The fire shot forward.
The attack struck the spinning wind shield a heartbeat later.
Flames splintered against the current, scattering into glowing fragments that vanished into the rushing air before they could reach her.
The moment the attack died, the wind faded.
Vivian lifted her gaze.
Two of the figures had already closed the distance.
Fast.
Faster than ordinary fighters.
They lunged forward from opposite angles, their movements sharp and precise.
Vivian's blade snapped outward.
A violent burst of wind exploded from the swing, striking both attackers in the chest like an invisible hammer. The force drove them backward across the clearing, boots digging through dirt and scattered leaves as they skidded several steps away.
But they did not fall.
They did not hesitate.
One of them straightened slowly.
Fire gathered again in its hand.
The light flickered across its face as the flames grew brighter.
And for the first time, Vivian saw it clearly.
Not a man.
Fur covered the creature's jaw and cheeks, thick and coarse, framing a long muzzle lined with sharp teeth. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow beneath the shadow of its brow.
A wolf.
Or something that had once been human and was not anymore.
The creature thrust its arm forward.
Fire roared toward her.
Vivian stepped into the attack.
Her sword flashed upward, cutting through the flames with a sharp arc that split the fire apart before it could reach her.
Behind her, Lucas remained perfectly still.
His focus never wavered from the forest behind them.
The old man stared between them in stunned disbelief, watching the effortless coordination between the two warriors. Lucas never questioned Vivian's command, and Vivian never once checked whether Lucas was doing his job.
They already knew.
Vivian spoke without turning.
"Old man," she said evenly, her eyes still locked on the wolf-like figures. "Do you have enemies I should know about?"
The old man blinked in confusion. "Enemies? No—no, nothing like that."
"You've never seen these people before?"
"I swear I haven't."
That answered enough.
Vivian's grip on her sword tightened slightly.
So they weren't here for the escort.
Which meant exactly what she had begun to suspect.
Her voice cut quietly through the clearing.
"Lucas."
"Yeah."
"They're ours."
Lucas didn't respond, but his stance shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on his sword.
Vivian inhaled slowly.
Wind stirred faintly around her feet.
The air twisted, gathering beside her.
Then it split.
A second Vivian stepped out from the current, identical in every detail — same posture, same sword, same calm expression.
The clone turned immediately toward the old man.
"Stay close," it said.
The old man barely had time to react before the wind surged again.
The clone grabbed his shoulder.
Air exploded outward in a sharp spiral, scattering leaves and dust across the clearing.
In the next instant—
They were gone.
Only the fading whisper of wind remained where they had stood.
The clearing grew quiet again.
Two wolf-like figures watched from the edge of the trees.
And now, standing alone before them—
Were Vivian…
…and Lucas.
Vivian's gaze remained fixed on the two figures ahead, but her mind was no longer fully on them. Something felt off. Three had stepped out of the forest, yet only two stood before her now. The thought settled in quietly, and her pupils tightened as she exhaled and turned.
"Lucas."
She didn't raise her voice.
The ground beneath her split open.
A hand burst out from the soil and clamped around her leg with a force that made her body jolt. Vivian twisted immediately, trying to pull herself free, but the grip tightened, dragging at her balance. The texture wasn't human—rough, clawed, unyielding.
Lucas moved without hesitation.
His blade came down once, then again, then again, each strike precise and controlled. The arm trembled under the repeated cuts before finally loosening its hold. In the next instant, it slipped back into the earth, vanishing as if it had never been there.
Vivian stepped back, freeing her leg, her eyes sharpening.
She barely had a moment.
The other two wolves were already on her.
They came in from both sides with sudden speed, their movements sharp and coordinated. Vivian exhaled once and shifted her stance, her body responding before her thoughts could catch up.
"Wind Style — Fifth Form: Gale Fist."
Her fist drove forward, and the air compressed before bursting outward with violent force. The impact struck both attackers mid-motion, sending them crashing back across the clearing, dirt and leaves scattering in their wake.
They hit the ground hard.
And still began to rise.
Vivian remained where she stood, her breathing steady but heavier now. The strain she had been holding back pressed deeper into her chest, dull but persistent. Her grip tightened around her sword as her eyes stayed on them.
"They're on my level… maybe a little lower," she muttered under her breath.
Her jaw set.
"But like this… they'll outlast me."
Behind them, the ground shifted again.
The third figure emerged from beneath the earth, rising fully this time. In his hand rested a spear—the same one Lucas had deflected earlier. He stepped forward calmly, joining the other two as they regrouped without a word.
Vivian watched them, her stance adjusting slightly.
"Lucas."
He turned instantly, moving from the rear to her side without hesitation. His presence settled beside her, steady and focused, the two of them now facing forward together.
The clearing felt smaller.
Quieter.
And for the first time since the attack began—
There were no blind spots left between them.
One of the wolves stepped forward slightly, a knife flipping idly in his hand. He tossed it into the air, catching it again with careless precision, as if the fight in front of him wasn't worth his full attention.
"Hey, lady…" he said, voice low but clear, "if we're not mistaken about who you are…"
Vivian took a step forward.
Her eyes didn't leave him.
The wolf's grip tightened slightly on the knife as a faint grin crept onto his face.
"Aren't you the one who used to lead Aegis…?"
Vivian's eyes lifted.
Not in surprise.
In recognition.
---
The Kingdom of Dragons — Gate 17.
A lone figure approached the gates, dragging something behind him. The body scraped against the ground with each step, leaving faint streaks across the dirt. His pace was slow, uneven, the weight of exhaustion clear in every movement.
His clothes were stained dark with blood.
Some of it his.
Most of it not.
"Who are you?" one of the gate guardians called out sharply. "Identify yourself."
Another guard leaned forward, squinting through the dim light.
"…Lower your guard," he said after a moment. "He's one of us."
One of the guardians dropped down from the wall, landing a short distance ahead of the figure.
As the man stepped closer, his face came into view.
Shawn.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
"I'm Shawn," he said, voice steady despite the state he was in. "Three-Star. Rank 117."
He didn't stop walking.
"I was sent on a mission to inspect Blackridge. There were… unusual activities reported."
From above, another guard leaned over the edge of the gate.
"HEY—where are the others?" he shouted. "There were eighteen Four-Star heroes assigned with you!"
Shawn stopped.
Just for a moment.
His gaze dropped slightly toward the ground, then lifted again, unchanged.
"They're all dead."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Both guardians froze where they stood, the words taking a second too long to settle.
The guard in front of him looked down at the body Shawn was dragging.
"…Then who is that?"
Shawn's grip tightened slightly on the collar.
"He's the one responsible."
---
Inside the gates, the report was delivered quickly.
Firen[1] listened without interrupting.
Five-Star. Rank 1.
His expression didn't change much as the guard spoke, recounting what had happened at the gate, but there was a faint shift in his eyes by the end.
"A Three-Star…" he murmured.
"Survived."
His gaze lowered slightly, thoughtful now.
"And brought down the one who wiped out an entire squad of Four-Stars."
The room felt quieter after that.
Firen said nothing more.
But the weight of what that meant—
Settled heavily in the air.
Firen's brow tightened as he turned back to the guardian. "So this Three-Star hero killed the man who took down the others?"
The guardian hesitated before answering. "We are not entirely sure of the details. He was unconscious not long after he returned."
A faint look of disappointment crossed Firen's face. He had wanted more than that — more about Blackridge, more about what had happened to the squad that never came back. But all he had now was fragments, and a Three-Star hero who somehow returned alone.
Back at Vivian and Lucas, the air had already changed.
Vivian's eyes widened slightly, the shock hitting her before she could hide it. The words had landed deeper than the fight itself, because now the meaning behind these attackers was beginning to show.
Then one of the wolves spoke again.
"Well… your Aegis squad," he said, the knife still turning lazily in his hand, "or let me say… every member from the previous Aegis has been killed…"
[1] He has spiky golden hair that points upward and bright blue eyes that show confidence and determination. His body is lean but muscular, especially his arms, making him look powerful and ready for battle. He wears a simple black sleeveless outfit along with a red scarf around his neck and a red belt at his waist, which makes him stand out more