"A group of cultists has slain Alistair Cedric. They are the same ones who sealed the city's gates, preventing anyone from entering or leaving, even though the Goblin King has already been killed. The mage tower has fallen under enemy control. Captain Marcus, Guildmaster John of the Adventurers' Guild, and Bishop Peter of the Church are now attempting to assault the tower and reclaim the city. All who can fight must hurry to aid them before Aldor is destroyed."
The announcement echoed almost at the same moment they landed on the ground.
"Cough, cough."
Amy coughed violently, partly because of the dust stirred up by their rough landing, partly because of the minor injuries she sustained from the fall itself, compounded by the devastating attack from the enemy earlier.
At that moment, when the strange Fire Balls flew toward them, each individual tried to defend themselves, but Guildmaster John and Bishop Peter also cast their magic to protect the entire group.
From the mouth of the fish John was riding, a torrent of water surged forth, enveloping everyone. At the same time, Bishop Peter quickly raised a barrier of light to shield them all.
Thanks to the strong and timely protection of the two, fortunately no one was killed outright. Even so, each member of the group was shaken and suffered injuries to varying degrees.
Most notably, the griffins they rode bore the brunt of the impact. This caused them to descend uncontrollably, almost like free-falling. As a result, Amy and the others had to endure two consecutive rounds of damage.
Quickly pulling herself up and checking her condition, she sighed in relief; nothing serious.
It seemed her bones and internal organs were intact. Though her body ached, it was something easily remedied with a bit of healing potion.
But unlike Amy, the griffin she had ridden was not so fortunate. One of its wings was broken, and both of its forelegs were completely shattered.
This condition was also due to Amy's timely control of her own spiritual energy, allowing her to cast a protective magic for both herself and the griffin during the rough landing.
Without that magic, the griffin might have died instantly, and she herself could have been far more gravely injured.
'Was the sudden disruption in my control of spiritual energy earlier caused by that enemy's attack?'
Amy silently pondered the reason her magic had been less effective, both when defending against the assault and when trying to land safely.
While still speculating, Amy retrieved a vial of magic potion from her spatial ring.
She took a small sip, then poured the rest into the griffin's mouth and onto its wounds.
Amy: "You did well. Now rest."
She spoke softly while patting its soft feathers.
"Kleeek…"
The griffin let out a weak cry in response, as if it understood her words.
Afterward, Amy stood up quickly and scanned the surroundings, searching for the others.
The terrifying attack earlier had not only nearly wiped them out, but also scattered the group, leaving them to land in different places.
This could become a serious problem if any of them were suddenly surrounded or ambushed by the enemy.
And since Amy was a mage not particularly skilled in close combat, being approached without frontline support could be very dangerous.
Fortunately, she soon spotted Leon, her teammate, not far away.
Thanks to his strong and sturdy body, he had suffered no injuries from the fall. However, the griffin he had ridden was not so lucky; its neck had broken, and it had died beyond saving.
Amy: "Leon, over here."
Hearing her call, Leon turned his head, his face filled with relief upon seeing that she was safe and seemingly unharmed.
Suddenly, the relief on his face turned grave. He quickly shouted, his voice urgent:
"Behind you!"
Because of the seamless coordination built from countless battles together, Amy did not hesitate or question him; she reacted instantly.
She crouched low, spun around, and swung her staff toward the rear.
At once, a wall of fire flared up, blocking any danger from approaching.
Though hastily conjured and not particularly thick or destructive, it was still better than having no defense at all.
Then, as she turned, Amy saw a blade slicing through the flames without resistance.
The weapon cut across the space where her neck had been moments earlier. Had she not ducked in time, her head would have already fallen to the ground.
The assassin, failing in his first strike, did not retreat or falter. He swung the other blade in his hand downward from above, aiming to cleave through the fire wall and strike Amy crouching below.
The two attacks flowed together seamlessly, too fast for Amy to react or counter.
All she could see was the descending blade and a pair of cold golden eyes glinting through the fading firelight. Never before had Amy felt death so close at hand.
But then, the attacker suddenly shifted the angle of his strike mid-swing with a deft motion. Immediately after, Amy understood the reason for that change in direction. It was certainly not because the attacker had suddenly felt any mercy.
A massive axe with a long haft had been hurled by Leon, whistling through the air at terrifying speed.
The assassin redirected his blade to intercept it with precision.
Even so, the sheer weight and force of the axe drove him back a considerable distance before he managed to fully absorb and neutralize its momentum.
Leon: "Are you alright?"
He had rushed forward just in time to shield Amy, his voice filled with concern.
Amy: "Thank you. I'm fine now."
Straightening herself and fixing her gaze on the assassin, Amy finally saw his appearance clearly.
He was strikingly handsome and masculine, with long black hair tied neatly back and a pair of radiant golden eyes.
Amy: "I don't recall making any enemies that would warrant being treated like this. So you must be one of those who attacked and seized control of the city, am I right?"
"Correct. I am Nyxar. A pleasure to meet you, lady."
He introduced himself with surprising politeness.
Leon: "Shouldn't you refrain from introducing yourself until after you've tried to take someone's head?"
He growled, pulling a spare axe from his spatial ring.
Though not as fine as the one he had thrown earlier, it was still far better than facing the opponent barehanded.
Nyxar: "But in the end, the head hasn't been taken yet. So making introductions now hardly seems too late."
He replied cheerfully, advancing toward them with both blades gripped firmly in his hands.