Eryndor had been sent on a single, clear mission.
Retrieve the maiden mage.
Ariana Silver had been abducted by the Witch of the Fall, Agnes Monvois, and the last confirmed sighting came from a frightened adventurer who claimed to have seen strange figures moving through the Forest of Fawl.
That was where Eryndor was headed.
Alone.
The journey took hours.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the forest, the sky had darkened, and the trees ahead formed a towering wall of twisted branches and thick shadows. The Forest of Fawl was known for its danger even on peaceful days.
Tonight, it felt far worse.
Eryndor paused at the forest edge, scanning the terrain carefully.
The wind barely moved.
The silence was unnatural.
He crouched slightly and touched the ground, examining faint disturbances in the dirt. Broken branches. Deep claw marks in the soil.
Tracks.
But not ordinary ones.
The prints were warped, unnatural—animals, perhaps, but twisted by something darker.
"Witchcraft," he murmured quietly.
Rising slowly, Eryndor stepped into the forest.
Immediately, the atmosphere changed.
The deeper he walked, the thicker the shadows became. The towering trees blocked most of the moonlight, leaving only scattered beams of pale silver light cutting through the darkness.
Strange sounds echoed through the woods.
Low growls.
Scratching claws.
Branches snapping somewhere beyond his sight.
Every instinct told him he was not alone.
Eryndor's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his weapon.
He walked carefully, every step controlled, his senses stretched to their limits.
Then—
A sudden rustle.
From the left.
Another from behind.
Before he could react further, the forest erupted with movement.
Mutated animals burst from the darkness.
A wolf with twisted limbs lunged first, its eyes glowing with corrupted energy. Behind it came another creature, and another—bodies warped, fur patchy, bones protruding unnaturally.
Agnes's work.
They attacked from every direction.
But Eryndor did not panic.
His blade flashed.
The first creature barely made contact before its head separated cleanly from its body.
Another leapt toward him.
He pivoted smoothly, slashing upward in a swift arc that split the beast open midair.
More came.
Eryndor moved like flowing water, cutting, dodging, and striking with flawless precision. His weapon carved through corrupted flesh with brutal efficiency.
One.
Three.
Five.
Eight.
Ten.
Within moments, the forest floor was littered with the corpses of the mutated beasts.
The silence returned.
Eryndor stood still, breathing steadily as he looked at the bodies around him.
He crouched beside one of them and studied its twisted form.
Black veins pulsed beneath its skin.
Its eyes were clouded with unnatural darkness.
"This is definitely witchcraft," he muttered.
There was no doubt left in his mind.
Agnes Monvois was nearby.
Rising slowly, he tightened his grip on his weapon.
Then he continued deeper into the Forest of Fawl.
The search lasted for hours.
Eryndor moved quietly through the forest, eliminating any mutated animals that crossed his path. Some attacked recklessly, while others watched from the shadows before fleeing.
Every encounter confirmed his suspicions.
The entire forest had been contaminated by Agnes's magic.
But he was not just fighting.
He was investigating.
Each corpse he examined.
Each magical residue he studied.
Each broken branch or scorched patch of ground.
All of it formed a pattern.
Agnes had not chosen this place randomly.
She had established something here.
A temporary lair.
And Eryndor was getting closer.
Eventually, he reached a part of the forest where the corruption was strongest.
The trees were darker here, their bark blackened and cracked as though something poisonous had seeped into their roots. The ground was littered with the bones of animals that had not survived the mutation.
Eryndor slowed his pace.
His instincts sharpened.
Then he saw it.
A clearing ahead.
Dark magic pulsed faintly from its center.
Eryndor stepped behind a tree and carefully observed the area.
And there she was.
Agnes Monvois.
The Witch of the Fall stood calmly in the clearing.
And beside her—
Ariana Silver.
But Ariana was not standing.
She was suspended in the air, held in place by swirling strands of dark magic.
Agnes's hands glowed with eerie energy as she slowly drained the young mage's power.
Ariana's face was pale.
Her expression twisted in agony.
Each second, more of her magic was being siphoned away.
Eryndor's eyes narrowed.
He studied the clearing carefully.
No obvious traps.
But the forest was crawling with corrupted creatures.
Agnes had prepared this battlefield carefully.
A dangerous thought crossed his mind.
He could disobey the higher officials' orders.
Kill Agnes right here.
End the threat permanently.
His grip tightened.
If he could eliminate the Witch and rescue Ariana in the process...
That would be the perfect outcome.
Eryndor exhaled slowly.
Decision made.
He stepped forward from the shadows.
Agnes immediately sensed him.
Her head turned slightly, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Ah," she said softly.
"I was wondering when you would arrive."
But before Eryndor could reach her—
The forest exploded with movement.
Agnes lifted one hand lazily.
Instantly, wave after wave of mutated animals charged into the clearing.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
The creatures rushed forward like a tidal wave of claws and teeth.
Eryndor didn't slow down.
He moved like a storm.
His blade flashed again and again, each strike perfectly placed.
Creatures fell before they could even touch him.
Bodies collapsed in piles.
Blood sprayed across the ground as the warrior carved a path through the monstrous horde.
One hundred.
Two hundred.
More.
Even Agnes watched with quiet interest as Eryndor cut through the creatures without hesitation.
But she had prepared something far stronger.
As Eryndor neared the center of the clearing—
Two figures suddenly appeared.
The last remaining Dark Lords.
They materialized beside him in an instant.
Before Eryndor could react, one struck him with immense force.
The blow hurled him across the battlefield.
He crashed violently against the ground.
Dirt and debris exploded into the air.
Eryndor gritted his teeth and forced himself back to his feet.
He could feel the difference immediately.
These were not ordinary enemies.
Defeating the Dark Lords would take time.
But he had no choice.
He lunged forward.
Steel and dark magic collided as the three warriors clashed in a deadly dance of attacks.
Blades flashed.
Explosions of power erupted with each impact.
Meanwhile—
Agnes continued draining Ariana's magic.
Her aura grew darker.
Stronger.
More monstrous with every passing second.
Then she raised her hand.
The stolen energy gathered above her palm like a miniature sun of corrupted magic.
And she unleashed it.
The blast struck Eryndor directly.
The impact sent him flying across the clearing.
He hit the ground hard.
Blood ran down his face.
His body trembled from the sheer force of the attack.
But even then—
His hand never released his weapon.
He forced himself to stand.
Agnes watched with amusement.
"How persistent," she said softly.
Then she raised her hand again.
The forest trembled.
Five hundred mutated animals emerged from the shadows.
They surrounded Eryndor instantly.
Now he faced an army.
And the two Dark Lords still stood beside Agnes.
Yet even then—
Eryndor did not retreat.
He attacked.
His blade moved with deadly precision as he tore through the creatures, dodging claws, deflecting strikes, and cutting down monsters one after another.
Agnes watched with fascination.
Even Ariana, barely conscious, could see it.
Eryndor fought like a man who refused to die.
Then—
With a sudden burst of speed—
Eryndor leapt.
He landed behind the two Dark Lords and slashed at both simultaneously.
The Dark Lords turned instantly, blocking and counterattacking.
The three warriors clashed in a brutal exchange of strikes.
But the battle was beginning to overwhelm even them.
Agnes decided to intervene.
She lifted her hand.
A storm of magical arrows rained from the sky.
Each projectile burned with stolen magic.
They struck Eryndor again and again.
His armor shattered.
Blood spilled across the battlefield.
Still—
He refused to fall.
Every wound only strengthened his resolve.
He fought harder.
Faster.
More fiercely.
Because he knew the truth.
This could be the end.
Memories flashed through his mind.
The people he had sworn to protect.
The battles he had survived.
The promises he had made.
This might be his last stand.
But if it was—
He would make it count.
With a final surge of strength, Eryndor pushed forward.
His blade struck once.
Then again.
And again.
Finally—
Both Dark Lords fell.
Their bodies collapsed onto the battlefield.
Silence followed.
Eryndor stood alone amid the ruins of hundreds of slain creatures.
Smoke and dust drifted through the clearing.
Slowly, he raised his head.
And met Agnes's gaze.
She smiled calmly.
Almost playfully.
Then—
Without warning—
She tossed Ariana toward him.
Eryndor reacted instantly.
He caught her just before she hit the ground.
Her body was weak.
Her breathing shallow.
Holding her carefully, Eryndor looked back at Agnes.
Suspicion filled his eyes.
Something was wrong.
He didn't understand her motives.
And the way she smiled…
Made the situation even more dangerous.