Draven landed lightly beside the maid, boots barely making a sound on the rain-slick forest floor. His chest heaved, crimson eyes blazing, streaks of blood running down his arms.
The maid knelt beside him, holding the severed pieces of his arms.
> "Young Master…" she called softly, her voice trembling yet steady against the storm.
Draven turned his head just enough to meet her eyes, one corner of his gaze flicking toward her. Rain mixed with blood streaked across his face. His remaining stumps pulsed with raw, searing pain.
Gently, she pressed one of the severed arms against the wound, her hands steady despite the shaking. The dagger was still in his grip. Flesh met flesh, pressed to the exact spot where it had been cleaved. Slowly, muscle, sinew, and bone fused together in a sizzling pulse of mana.
Draven let out a low hiss, eyes never leaving hers, and without a word, stretched his other hand toward her. She pressed it to the matching wound, blood against the gap, and once again, flesh and bone knitted themselves back in place.
When both arms were whole again, he flexed his fingers experimentally, testing the connection. Blood still dripped, but the pain had dulled to a persistent thrum.
He finally raised his gaze, voice rough and ragged.
> "Where… are those two?"
Draven's crimson eyes never left the maid as she pressed his second arm into place, her voice barely above the roar of the storm, blood still streaked across his forearms.
The maid, standing close, was about to answer, her voice soft over the storm:
> "They're …"
Her words caught in her throat before the words could fully leave her lips. The forest ahead seemed to shiver with a pulse of energy—a flash of movement she recognized instantly.
Kaela.
The figure surged forward, mana crackling like wildfire along her blade. Each step was a storm unto itself, the air around her vibrating with raw power. Draven's eyes narrowed.
The maid froze for just a heartbeat, then instinct took over. She rose to her feet, axe in hand, muscles coiling as she met Kaela head-on. The clash was immediate, violent, and precise: steel rang against steel as the two collided in a deadly flash of motion.
Blood spattered instantly, arcs of mana sizzling along blades as their strikes tore through the storm-soaked air. Neither spoke. Neither flinched. Only the hiss of rain, the roar of wind, and the clash of steel filled the forest.
Draven felt his pulse spike, his body tensing, but he didn't move. He watched, every second counting, as the maid—the same one who had just mended his arms—stood firm against Kaela's relentless onslaught. Sparks and blood sprayed with every strike.
> "Damn it…" he muttered under his breath, the question of the others still burning in his chest, unanswered.
> "Bitch, she hasn't answered me yet."
Rain hammered the forest, drowning out everything but the clash of steel in the distance. Draven stood there, chest heaving, eyes locked on the fight a few meters away—Kaela and the maid tearing into each other like twin storms.
He ran a hand through his soaked hair, jaw tight, every nerve twitching with irritation.
> "Didn't even answer the damn question…"
His voice was low, more growl than words. "Didn't even ask why she's here, either. Perfect."
He spat into the mud, frustration burning hotter than the rain.
Then the air changed.
A sharp crack split the storm.
Draven's head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as gold-white light flickered through the shattered treeline. The wreckage that had swallowed Cedric a moment ago pulsed—branches scorched, earth blackened—and then, from within the ruin, came the steady rhythm of boots against soaked ground.
Cedric stepped out, lightning crawling across his armor like living veins. His eyes burned gold through the downpour, fury barely contained. Each breath seemed to vibrate with raw mana, every step making the forest tremble.
Draven's lip curled into a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
> "Oh, for fuck's sake…"
He tilted his head, blood mixing with rain on his cheek.
"Didn't I kick your shiny ass hard enough?"
Cedric's gaze locked on him, silent, the air between them thick with crackling power.
Draven flexed his newly healed arms, rolling his shoulders, dagger glinting under the stormlight.
> "Alright, let's go for round two? I was kinda pissed off that you almost cut off my head. Lucky that didn't happen, but now I'm going to make sure that wouldn't be the same for you—by cutting off your damn head."
Lightning exploded from Cedric's form, shattering what was left of the trees around him. Draven braced himself, boots sinking into the mud, crimson eyes gleaming through the rain.
For one heartbeat, the world held its breath—just the rain, the thunder, and two monsters staring each other down.
Then they moved.
Draven lunged first, dagger flashing in a crimson arc, aimed at Cedric's exposed side. Lightning erupted along Cedric's armor in response, deflecting the blow and sending a shockwave through the mud. Draven rolled to the side, boots splashing, and came up low, sweeping his leg in a vicious arc. Cedric jumped, landing behind a shattered tree, lightning snapping where he touched the soaked ground.
Each strike they exchanged lit the clearing with bursts of raw energy—dagger against blade, muscle against muscle, aura against aura. Draven moved like a predator, each motion precise but fueled by fury, while Cedric's strikes were calculated, each swing a crackling explosion of controlled power.
A roar of thunder masked the grunt of exertion as Draven slammed his dagger into the mud, spinning past Cedric to land a brutal strike, dagger aimed straight for his chest.
CLANG
The strike was deflected easily. He staggered off Draven's strike, golden eyes flaring with restrained fury, lightning lancing from his body to the nearest tree, splintering it in a shower of shards.
He swung.
Draven's teeth ground together, crimson eyes blazing through rain and blood. He swung to meet the swing with a strike of his own, just barely deflecting a blow that could have torn his ribs open. His arms trembled, blood flaring, burning, refusing to let him fall—but he could feel the edge of exhaustion gnawing at him.
---
A few meters away, the forest was a chaos of spinning steel and flashing mana. The maid and Kaela clashed with equal ferocity, axes and blades colliding with sparks that hissed in the rain. Every strike the maid made was brutal and precise, but Kaela moved like living wind—fluid, unpredictable, every attack meant to unbalance and overwhelm.