At his command, the bandits who hadn't been snared by Leonotis's vines, or who had managed to struggle free, stirred. There were roughly five of them, and to Leonotis's dismay, a faint aura of elemental energy shimmered around them. Not as strong as their leader, but enough to make them more than just ordinary thugs.
Low, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, let out a roar. "Don't you dare touch them!" She met the charge head-on, a whirlwind of fists and fury. Two of the bandits, one clutching a small orb of swirling wind, the other with hands that sparked with static electricity, tried to flank her. Low simply spun, catching the wind mage in a bone-jarring clothesline that sent him sprawling, then redirected the spark mage's clumsy electrical blast back at him with a slap of her palm, shocking him into a stunned stupor.
Meanwhile, Jacqueline, holding the now-rescued girl close, still had to defend herself. The remaining three bandits, one with crude fire magic, another able to harden his skin like stone, and a third who could manipulate small earth tremors, focused on her, seeing an easier target. Jacqueline set the girl down gently behind a large, fallen log, whispering, "Stay here, little one. It's almost over."
Her staff swept out, summoning a small but powerful geyser of water that blasted the fire mage's torch from his hand, extinguishing his crude spell. As the stone-skinned bandit lumbered towards her, she lashed out with a whip of pure water, binding his legs momentarily, giving her time to summon a thick, muddy barrier from the softened earth, forcing him to slow and stumble. The earth tremor mage found his footing constantly shifting, his own magic a double-edged sword against Jacqueline's superior control.
Leonotis, however, had eyes only for the bandit leader. The man was fast, impossibly so for his size. He darted forward, his rock spear a blur. Leonotis instinctively raised his Root-sword, blocking the thrust. The impact sent a jarring shockwave up his arm. The Root-sword, despite its wooden appearance, held firm against the stone, but Leonotis was pushed back a step.
"Greenhorn," the leader sneered, pressing his attack. Another thrust, this one aimed at Leonotis's gut. Leonotis twisted, parrying with a sweeping block, but the leader was already spinning, bringing the flat of the spear around in a brutal arc. Leonotis barely got his Root-sword up in time, deflecting the blow that would have caved in his ribs.
This wasn't like fighting the enslaved plant monsters or the poisoned creatures of the last village. This was a man, angry and powerful, wielding magic with brutal efficiency. Leonotis was a gardener, a protector of life. This man was a weapon.
Leonotis needed space. He plunged the tip of his Root-sword into the ground, channeling his energy. From beneath the bandit leader's feet, a thick, thorny vine erupted. The leader merely scoffed, stomping his foot. The vine, instead of ensnaring him, shattered into pebbles with a crackling sound, the rock magic instantly neutralizing Leonotis's plant manipulation.
"Cute," the leader taunted, advancing. "But you'll need more than pretty flowers to stop me." He thrust the rock spear forward again, this time aiming for Leonotis's sword arm.
Leonotis sidestepped, letting the spear pierce the ground where he had stood. With a grunt, he pulled his sword free, its gnarled wood humming. He brought it down in a powerful arc, aiming for the leader's arm, but the bandit was too quick. He rotated his arm, and the rock spear reshaped itself, becoming a shield of solid stone just in time. The Root-sword slammed into it, sending vibrations up Leonotis's arm, but the shield held.
Leonotis was beginning to understand. This man wasn't just powerful; he was versatile. He didn't just conjure rock, he controlled its very form, shifting it at will.
"You're slow, boy," the leader growled, pressing his advantage. The rock shield dissolved, and he attacked with a flurry of jabs and slashes, each one threatening to crush bone. Leonotis was forced to focus purely on defense, blocking with his Root-sword, the sounds of stone meeting wood echoing like gunshots.
He needed an opening. He needed to be creative.
He finally caught a break. As the leader drew back for a particularly heavy strike, Leonotis stamped his own foot. A small tremor, too subtle for the bandit leader's raw power to easily disrupt, rippled through the ground. The bandit's footing shifted for a fraction of a second, just enough.
Leonotis didn't hesitate. He thrust his Root-sword forward, not at the man, but at the earth just beyond his feet. A gnarled root, thicker and tougher than any vine, burst from the ground, wrapping around the leader's ankle. It held!
"What in the…!" The leader cursed, trying to stomp the root, but it was too dense, too fast. He tried to shatter it with his rock magic, but Leonotis was pouring every ounce of his remaining energy into making it resilient.
With the leader's movement restricted, Leonotis pressed his own attack. He couldn't match the bandit's raw strength, but he could use his environment. He swept his Root-sword in a wide arc, a silent command to the earth. Two more roots, like living whips, sprang from the ground, one coiling around the leader's other leg, the other snaking up his arm, trying to disarm him.
The bandit roared in frustration. His rock spear transformed into a heavy stone hammer, which he brought down with incredible force, smashing the root off his arm. But the delay was enough. Leonotis was already moving.
He charged, not with a strike, but with a complex series of hand signs, channeling a more intricate spell. As the bandit leader struggled with the remaining roots, Leonotis slammed the pommel of his Root-sword into the ground one last time.
The earth beneath the bandit leader's feet didn't just grow vines. It shifted. It liquefied, turning into a vortex of roots and vines. The leader sank quickly, his rock magic useless against the overwhelming pull of the green vegetation. He tried to form platforms, to solidify the ground, but Leonotis had surrounded him completely in plants, making it impossible.
"No!" the leader roared, thrashing. But he was sinking deeper, the vines and roots reaching his chest, then his shoulders. His powerful rock magic could break through solid stone, but it couldn't fight a vine prison Leonotis commanded into being.
Finally, with a frustrated, gurgling roar, the bandit leader was gagged, a mouth full of vines so he couldn't say a single spell, his eyes blazing with impotent fury.
With their leader defeated, the remaining bandits lost all will to fight. Low, having knocked out three with brute force and sent the other two fleeing, stood panting, a satisfied snarl on her face. Jacqueline had managed to bind the remaining few with water whips, their limited magic no match for her control. Zombiel, his flames having reduced most of their supplies to ash, stood calmly, his red eyes surveying the damage.
The remaining free bandits, seeing their formidable leader defeated and their comrades bound, broke and ran into the darkness, their desperate cries echoing into the night.
Silence slowly returned to the ravaged camp. The fires crackled, the dust settled, and the frantic heartbeat of battle faded. Leonotis stood over the stuck bandit leader, breathless, his body shaking with exertion and adrenaline, but his gaze resolute.
Jacqueline walked over, the small girl still clinging to her, her face buried in Jacqueline's shoulder. She looked at Leonotis, a genuine, warm smile finally gracing her lips. "You did it, Leonotis."
The little girl, feeling the sudden calm, looked up. Seeing the bound bandits and the vanquished leader, she let out a fresh wave of sobs, but this time they were different. They were sobs of pure, overwhelming relief. She buried her face deeper into Jacqueline's shoulder, safe at last.