> Draven stared, eyes sharp, gripping his dagger tightly.
"Not happening, dude. That would be handing you my life, and I don't do that."
The air dropped. Silence tightened.
Ivan's eye twitched. His fingers curled. His aura flared violently, red mana crackling around him, thick with killing intent.
Draven spoke again, cold and flat.
"It's about time you shut the fuck up."
And that's when everything exploded into motion.
In a single, fluid blur, Aldric and Lyriana moved. Their eyes flared crimson, mana erupting off their bodies like smoke from fire.
CRACK.
Twin surges of blood magic detonated in the corridor.
Wings tore from their backs with a thunderous snap—black, vast, and jagged. The stone beneath their feet fractured from the force.
In the same instant, blood coiled along their arms, twisting into deadly forms—Aldric's weapon, a brutal poleaxe of pure blood-forged steel; Lyriana's, a sleek, razor-sharp crimson spear, burning with fury.
Their wings swept wide, magic crackling through the air.
They didn't wait for Ivan to speak.
They launched forward instantly.
Two blurs of blood tore through the corridor.
Wings snapped down—BOOM—launching them like missiles.
Aldric moved like a battering ram, his poleaxe spinning with deadly force.
Lyriana shot beside him, spear leveled like a crimson lightning bolt.
Ivan barely shifted.
His aura erupted—red mana flaring out around him like a shockwave.
But they were already on him.
CLANG — CRACK — the clash hit like thunder.
Aldric's poleaxe slammed down on Ivan's barrier. Sparks exploded. Stone shattered.
Lyriana twisted mid-air, her spear lancing from the side, piercing in fast and sharp.
Draven, sharp gaze watching, moved—disappearing from his spot.
Ivan raised one arm. A mana shield flared—Lyriana's spear scraped off with a screech of raw magic. But the blow staggered him, just slightly.
Ivan's cold eyes narrowed.
His blood-forged blade pulsed in his hand—sharp and alive.
He muttered low, almost to himself, voice disgusted.
"Tch… vermin, the lot of you."
Then he moved.
Fast. Effortless. Deadly.
He swung the blade in a wide arc, the air screaming as red mana tore through it—a deadly wave meant to cleave everything in its path.
But CLANG!—Aldric was there, poleaxe braced with both hands.
Steel slammed into blood-forged steel. Sparks flew. The impact shook the corridor.
Right beside him, Lyriana's spear met the edge from the opposite side, deflecting the worst of the force.
Their wings flared, stabilizing them midair as the magic burst against their guard.
The floor cracked beneath their feet.
But they held.
Aldric growled, his red eyes burning.
"You're not cutting through us that easy."
Lyriana didn't speak. Her gaze said everything—cold fury.
Ivan's red mana pulsed again—thick, fast, angry.
SHNK. SHNK. SHNK.
Three crimson blades formed mid-air, glowing with his blood magic, hovering beside him.
He raised one hand and moved his fingers slightly.
The blood blades launched forward—howling through the air toward Aldric and Lyriana like javelins of death.
Aldric lunged forward, straight toward the incoming blood swords.
With a tight grip on his weapon, he swung to meet them head-on.
CLANG! CLANG!
Sparks flew as his poleaxe struck the blades, which shattered into tiny particles of mana.
But he didn't block all of them.
One pierced into his chest.
He snapped out his hand, grabbed the blade, and his grip tightened as the blade cracked—then shattered.
The wound on his chest instantly began regenerating.
Lyriana, behind him, was already in motion.
Her spear surged with mana.
She swung sharply, tossing the spear—it shot forward like a rocket, tearing through the air, piercing straight for Ivan.
Ivan's eyes were cold. He didn't flinch.
With a slight move of his head, the spear flew past—missing him by an inch.
Soft steps on concrete.
Draven was already behind him.
Dagger in his mouth, he leapt up—his hand snapped out to grab the blood spear.