The maid twisted, ducking under a sweeping strike that would have cleaved her in two. She countered immediately, axes spinning, biting into Kaela's guard. Mana flared, sizzling along the edges of their weapons, and the rain hissed as it hit the charged metal.
The fight was deadly and relentless, but the maid's gaze flicked to the clearing where Draven struggled against Cedric. Her hands tightened on her axes.
Moment before___
---
Rain dripped from the thick canopy, splattering against the wet leaves and slick forest floor. The maid moved like a shadow, axes held steady in both arms, silent but lethal. Every step was measured, every breath controlled. She moved through the wreckage of trees where Draven had crushed the dismantled tree line, guiding her forward.
But the forest shifted ahead. A line of armored figures emerged, breaking the shadows like jagged teeth. At their forefront, Kaela moved with deliberate precision, sword in hand, eyes scanning, calculating. Behind her, the knights formed a wall—moving as one, blocking her way, anticipating her every path.
The maid's jaw tightened. She narrowed the space between herself and the enemy, axes rising in deadly arcs.
Steel rang against steel as the first of the knights lunged. She twisted, spinning both axes in a blur, steel meeting bone and armor cracking. Blood sprayed, and the knight collapsed.
But the rest didn't stop. Another came, and another. They lunged, she lunged. Mana flared with every strike. The forest filled with the smell of ozone and blood.
Kaela stepped forward, blade planted lightly on her shoulder, every motion economical, like a storm waiting to release. She didn't shout. She didn't need to. Her presence alone forced the maid into focus, every instinct on alert.
Axes collided with Kaela's blade in a series of sharp, brutal strikes. Sparks hissed through the rain. The maid fell into the rhythm of battle—push, parry, counter. She cut through the knights, forcing openings, but never once did she break Kaela's control. Each step was a calculated gamble; every advantage she gained, Kaela reclaimed with cold, flawless precision.
Each step was a calculated gamble; every opening she created, she closed with cold efficiency.
Kaela's eyes narrowed. Rain slid down the side of her face as she adjusted her stance — sword angled low, the faint hum of mana rippling along its edge.
The maid didn't wait. She lunged.
Axes swung, fast and heavy. Steel clashed, sparks scattered. Kaela deflected the first strike, side-stepped the second, and countered with a sharp upward slash that tore through the air where the maid's throat had been a heartbeat ago.
Mud splashed as the maid pivoted, boots skidding. She came back in hard — left axe hooking, right one swinging to break the guard. Kaela blocked both, arms steady, her sword flashing with pale blue light.
Their blades screamed against each other, rain sizzling where mana touched steel.
The maid pressed her lips, pushing forward with brute strength. Kaela held her ground, calm, controlled — her movements clean, no wasted motion.
A sharp twist — Kaela broke the lock, spun, and struck. The blade cut shallow across the maid's shoulder, searing with mana.
The maid's face remained cold, blood running down her arm as the wound instantly began sealing.
Kaela advanced, silent. Each strike was deliberate, mechanical. Slash. Step. Thrust. The rhythm of one who'd killed a thousand times before.
The maid's eyes stayed locked. She moved in again, low and fast, mud spraying under her boots. Her first axe struck high; Kaela blocked. The second came from below — she barely turned the blade in time.
Steel clanged. Sparks burst.
They pushed against each other, blades grinding, faces inches apart — breath, blood, and rain mixing in the air between them.
The maid snarled, twisting her wrist, forcing one axe free. She ducked low and drove it toward Kaela's ribs.
Kaela blocked — but too late. The edge caught her side, biting through armor.
The sound was wet, muffled by the storm.
Kaela staggered, eyes wide. The maid pulled the axe free, stepping back, both of them breathing steady.
Rain fell between them, thick and cold.
Kaela steadied herself, glancing over at her bleeding side.
> "You fight well. But that won't happen twice."
The maid didn't answer. She only raised her axes again.
They clashed one last time — a blur of motion, mud, and lightning.
Steel struck steel. Mana burst. The shockwave threw water and leaves into the air.
Then—a pulse. A flare of light through the trees. A strike of lightning, precise and wild.
Her gaze flicked toward the flare of lightning.
Draven.
She saw him.
In the heart of battle,
> "Young master."
In that heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt. The storm, the clashing steel, the hiss of mana—all faded to a narrow focus: him, struggling against Cedric, vulnerable.
Kaela noticed it too. Her eyes sharpened, tracking the maid's fleeting glance.
Steel didn't wait.
With a sudden, fluid motion, Kaela broke their lock and pivoted. Her blade arced in a lethal diagonal sweep, aimed not at the maid's arms or legs—but at the opening her momentary distraction had left.
The maid barely reacted. Mud spattered as she twisted, axes slashing upward in desperate parry. Sparks flew, rain hissed, and the shockwave of the clash rocked the forest floor.
She stared, eyes sharp, grip tightening on her axes as they both stared.
Steel ground against steel, the ringing of their blades echoing like distant thunder. The maid's boots slipped in the wet mud, forcing her backward, but her grip remained iron. Her axes spun, one biting into Kaela's guard, the other deflecting the next strike with a hiss of mana.
Kaela's eyes never left hers. Every motion precise, every attack an accusation:
The maid's chest tightened. Another glance toward Draven caught her off guard—a subtle movement of his hand, a flash of struggle—and she realized: he might not hold much longer.
Adrenaline surged. She forced herself to reset her focus. Kaela had seen the flicker of her distraction, and now the initiative had shifted. She needed to act, not react.
Axes raised, the maid's stance became a coiled spring. The next strike would decide the rhythm of the fight.
And then, Kaela lunged—not with brute force, but with the precision of a predator, blade slicing toward the small gap between the maid's defenses.
The rain fell harder, lightning flashed across the canopy, and for a moment, time slowed.
The maid met the strike head-on, eyes locking with Kaela's. Sparks exploded, metal screamed, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Young Master… just hold on a bit.
The thought was almost silence.