The girl's skin carried a vibrant bronze glow, the healthy tone of someone long kissed by the sun.
Her clothes were extremely simple, even a little worn, yet they did nothing to hide the strong and striking figure beneath. Through the thin fabric, the lines of her muscles were clearly visible, powerful yet graceful, as though carefully sculpted.
Just as Nepheli was about to say something to encourage her companions, a faint but sharp whistling sound suddenly reached her ears.
Before she could even react, the companion beside her shoved her violently aside.
A bowstring snapped with a harsh, trembling twang.
Swish swish swish.
Several razor-sharp crossbow bolts burst from the shadows to the right like a sudden storm.
Startled, the girl turned her head. In the next instant, the man who had pushed her aside was struck. Blood burst from his body in sprays, crimson blooming into the night air.
"Enemy attack!"
A tense shout rang out. The other two companions, also Tarnished, reacted immediately.
They raised their small wooden shields and stepped forward together, pressing shoulder to shoulder to form a defensive wall.
In the blink of an eye, a second volley of arrows rained down, slamming into the shields with a rapid clatter.
Amid the chaos, Nepheli still lost her balance and crashed heavily onto the cold ground.
The attack had come without warning, but the girl did not panic.
She slammed her palm against the ground and sprang back to her feet like a coiled spring.
Dropping into a low crouch, swift and poised like a hunting leopard, she darted behind the two defenders and grabbed the fallen companion, dragging him back.
"What's going on?"
Nepheli asked urgently, her eyes scanning the darkness around them while her mind raced for a way out.
"Look! That banner. It's the same noble army from before!"
One Tarnished shouted in alarm.
Privately, he felt lucky that the crossbows used in this small region were poorly made. Otherwise, they would already have been riddled with bolts.
Arrows continued to strike the shields and surrounding ground with sharp, crackling sounds.
Nepheli did not relax for even a moment.
She quickly pulled several arrows out of her injured companion and took out the Flask of Crimson Tears she carried, helping the fallen Tarnished drink a mouthful.
This was something the Golden Order had given to the Tarnished as a means of saving their lives.
Without these sacred flasks, the casualty rate among the Tarnished would have been far higher. Once empty, they could also be refilled for free at nearby churches.
"I didn't expect them to arrive this quickly," Nepheli thought, biting her lip.
For these nobles, reputation and prestige meant everything. If they ignored the killing of their own men, they would only be mocked by other lords.
At that moment, the rapid pounding of hooves echoed along the road.
Two powerful warhorses charged toward them.
Mounted atop them were two knights clad in heavy armor. One held a long lance, while the other swung a massive greatsword.
"Nepheli, go! Leave us!"
One of her companions shouted hoarsely as the danger closed in.
The knights began their charge, and in the distance five or six more riders could be seen rushing forward to join them.
In an instant, the enormous greatsword slammed down onto the shield.
With the force of the strike and the momentum of the charging horse combined, a deafening crash rang out.
The Tarnished holding the shield felt both arms go numb. The shield shattered in his hands, and his body was thrown backward like a kite with its string cut.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh.
More arrows cut through the air and came flying toward them.
These attackers clearly moved with coordination and discipline, completely unlike the Tarnished who were used to wandering alone and acting on their own impulses.
Close coordination within an army could greatly increase its overall combat strength.
The effect was far more than a simple one plus one.
Moreover, the Tarnished had only recently returned. Most of them were still no stronger than ordinary soldiers or knights.
When scattered wanderers like them encountered a trained army, death was almost inevitable.
Nepheli, however, was clearly among the more capable ones. The instant her companion was knocked flying, she reacted, rolling swiftly to the side.
Arrows thudded into the ground where she had stood a moment earlier.
Her hands had already seized the pair of axes lying nearby. As she turned, she swung one of them in a brutal arc.
The cold blade swept past the warhorse's hind legs.
A shrill scream erupted from the animal.
Horse and rider instantly lost balance and toppled sideways.
Nepheli dropped low, pressing close to the ground as the heavy armored body slammed down with a thunderous crash, dust erupting into the air.
Bang!
Before she could even catch her breath, another arrow tore through the air and struck her squarely in the shoulder.
Pain exploded through her body. Moments later, dizziness began creeping into her mind.
The arrow was poisoned.
At that moment, Nepheli felt her heart sink.
In this ragged group of Tarnished, she was the only one who had reached the level of a knight. Now she had no horse, no clear path of escape, and no idea how victory could possibly be achieved.
But surrender had never existed as an option in her mind.
Not even for a second.
"Death is the destiny of a warrior!"
The girl forced herself to her feet, gripping a battle axe in each hand. The calm expression she once wore had vanished, replaced by fierce, almost reckless resolve.
Just as she prepared to launch another charge toward the enemy line, the rapid thunder of hooves suddenly sounded behind her, drawing closer with each passing second.
More reinforcements?
She had guessed wrong.
The riders suddenly rushed past her.
In that fleeting instant, a flash of dazzling white crossed her vision, making her halt involuntarily.
The slightly slower knight wielding a lance had no time to react before a razor-sharp arc of sword light cut straight through his waist.
His severed body crashed down before her eyes, blood spraying across the ground.
"Only six left?"
Nolan urged his horse forward, sounding slightly disappointed.
For an ordinary minor lord, having twenty or thirty knights was already considered a sizable force. Sending this many out at once showed how seriously they took the matter.
Nolan tightened his grip on the reins and raised the greatsword in his hand.
The moment the riders ahead loosed their crossbow bolts, his blade swept through the air.
A violent gale burst outward from him, scattering every incoming bolt in all directions.
Stormcaller!