Youth lay unconscious on the forest floor, his body bruised and battered, his weapon discarded beside him. The once-unyielding rebel now lay still as multiple Ketergian Knights—Grade 1s and Grade 2s—wrapped thick, glowing chains around him. Their faces were resolute, though none dared meet the gaze of the towering figure nearby.
Descorda, the Unrivaled Heavenly Blade, watched the scene unfold with a calm yet commanding presence. His armor gleamed in the faint light filtering through the trees, and his massive blade rested easily in his grasp. His arrival had brought an abrupt and decisive end to the chaos.
Flient stormed toward him, his steps heavy with anger. "I didn't need your help, you know," he spat, glaring up at Descorda. "I would've killed him on the spot if you hadn't interfered in my fight!"
Descorda's eyes remained fixed on Youth. "Really? From what I sensed, this boy's next attack would've killed you instantly. If it weren't for me, Flient, you'd be dead."
Flient's face twisted with rage. "You dare look down on me?!" he snarled, his hand gripping the hilt of his weapon.
Before the tension could escalate further, Hermona stepped between them. Her sharp tone cut through the air like ice. "Enough. Let's head back to the city. Our job here is done. We've neutralized the target, and now we're taking him with us."
Flient let out a frustrated growl but said no more.
Moments later, Ainos arrived, carrying Sequana's unconscious form over his shoulder. Behind him were his squad mates, Rediquess and Azlouis, who approached with hurried steps.
"Captain!" Azlouis called, panting as he reached Ainos.
Ainos turned, his expression stern. "Where are the others I ordered you to capture?"
Rediquess hesitated, his gaze dropping. "We're sorry, sir, but they had too much help."
"Help?" Ainos's voice grew colder. "There were only four of them, including an unconscious man and three pipsqueaks."
Azlouis shifted uncomfortably. "They had reinforcements, sir. Seems like there are more rebels in this area. They even had more magic users than we expected."
Ainos exhaled sharply, his displeasure clear. "I see. Well, let's head back."
The knights regrouped with the Noble Royal Knights and the captured Youth. Together, they boarded a sleek, winged ship that waited nearby. As the engines roared to life, the vessel lifted into the sky, its destination clear: the gleaming city of Ketergia.
From a distance, hidden within the dense forest canopy, Rooks and Fort watched the ship ascend.
"Damn," Rooks muttered, his fists clenched at his sides. "They got him."
Fort, standing beside him, frowned deeply. "What do we do now?"
Rooks sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know. For now, we head back. We'll figure something out."
The two Knights turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the battlefield behind.
Farther into the forest, Vriede, Clarence, Sfilt, and the wounded Schneizal huddled together. The tension in the air was palpable as the female warbeast, Luidwaar, approached. Her black hair framed her sharp features, and her piercing eyes swept over the group.
Vriede stepped forward, gratitude in her expression. "Thank you, Luidwaar. If it weren't for you, we'd all be dead."
Luidwaar crossed her arms. "You're lucky we were nearby and spotted you in time." Her gaze darkened. "But they got Youth…"
Vriede's ears flattened slightly. "I know. We need to get him back."
Luidwaar's tone turned dismissive. "That's not my problem. Anyway, who are these people you're with?"
"They're friends I made along the way," Vriede replied firmly. "They're on our side."
Luidwaar's eyes lingered on Schneizal. "Even that elf? You sure he's not one of them? He's wearing knight's armor."
Vriede bristled. "He's not one of them. Youth also wears knight's armor, but neither of them has the Ketergian headband."
"Touche," Luidwaar muttered, her skepticism softening.
From the treetops, Berdeis, the sylph who had aided them earlier, descended gracefully. "Well, well…" he said with a smirk.
Vriede's face lit up. "Berdeis! I missed you so much, buddy!" She reached out and patted his head.
Berdeis scowled, brushing her hand away. "Agh, stop that! Where's your eyepatch friend?"
Vriede's expression turned somber. "They took him. We need to get him back, Luidwaar!"
Luidwaar's response was immediate. "Rejected. If they captured him, he's in Keteria. We can't risk setting foot there. Not with our numbers and strength. We'd be wiped out in an instant."
"But Luidwaar—"
"Enough, Vriede!" Luidwaar snapped. Her tone was sharp, final. "It's too risky. Sit down and follow orders. Do you understand?"
Vriede clenched her fists, her anger simmering beneath the surface. But she said nothing.
Youth groaned as consciousness returned to him. His armor was gone, replaced by his simple black clothing. The cold stone beneath him was harsh, and the air around him buzzed with tension. Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding himself surrounded by knights. Their gazes were harsh, scrutinizing him as though he were some captured beast.
In front of him, a grand throne loomed, its intricately carved design a testament to the wealth and power of the kingdom. Sitting upon it was a man whose mere presence exuded authority. His head rested casually on one hand, his expression unreadable. He was clad in gleaming white armor adorned with intricate blue patterns that ran along its surface like flowing rivers. The armor's pristine design reflected the regal aura of its wearer, leaving no doubt as to his identity. This was the ruler of Ketergia: Bastion.
Youth's crimson eye flickered beneath his eyepatch as he stared up at the man who governed the kingdom that had shaped, and scarred, his life.