Ariana Silver stepped forward, her expression composed despite the devastation surrounding them. The battlefield was still thick with the scent of smoke and blood, and the shattered remains of the Village of Harvest stretched in every direction.
She raised her voice so every soldier could hear.
"Listen carefully," Ariana said, her tone calm but grave. "The infection does not spread through bites or consumption."
The soldiers turned their full attention toward her.
"It spreads when someone is killed by an infected individual. If a person falls that way, the curse transfers immediately. Anyone standing nearby becomes the next target."
A murmur rippled through the exhausted ranks.
Several soldiers instinctively stepped farther apart, their eyes scanning the battlefield nervously.
Art Ryder tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.
"So if an infected soldier kills one of us," he said slowly, "the curse passes again."
Ariana nodded.
"Yes. That is why we cannot allow the infected to overwhelm us. One mistake could create another chain of victims."
Kirk Avado exhaled sharply.
"Then we end it quickly," he said firmly. "No hesitation."
The soldiers nodded, absorbing the gravity of the warning.
The weight of the situation settled heavily on their shoulders.
Nearby, Art Ryder and Kirk Avado moved along the perimeter of the battlefield, scanning every corner and broken structure. Their eyes remained sharp, alert for any infected who might have slipped past the lines.
Art spoke quietly as he walked.
"Check every body."
Kirk nodded grimly.
"No chances."
Around them, the surviving soldiers began moving carefully through the ruins, ensuring no infected remained outside the containment zone.
Eryndor stood several steps away from the others, silent.
His eyes were fixed on the broken streets of the village.
Burned homes.
Collapsed market stalls.
Abandoned tools scattered across the ground.
Once, the Village of Harvest had been one of the busiest settlements in the region. Now it looked like a graveyard.
His mind was already calculating.
The Witch had orchestrated everything.
The plague.
The corrupted villagers.
The minions.
This was not random destruction.
It was deliberate.
Even with the barrier, the threat remained.
Because the real danger was not the infection.
It was the dark magic still lingering inside the village.
Eryndor's eyes narrowed slightly.
"The shadows remain," he murmured under his breath.
And shadows always meant opportunity for someone like the Witch.
Around the village perimeter, the mages of Perona began their final incantations.
Their staffs glowed with rising magical energy as ancient runes formed in the air around them. The sound of chanting grew louder, their voices overlapping in a powerful rhythm.
Arcane symbols spiraled across the ground like living fire.
The air itself vibrated.
Then—
Light erupted.
A towering barrier of magical energy surged upward around the entire village.
It shimmered like a massive wall of glass made of pure light.
The glowing dome stretched across the horizon, sealing every road, every entrance, every alley.
The Village of Harvest was now completely sealed.
Ariana lowered her staff slowly.
"It's done."
Art stepped closer to the barrier, examining it.
The glowing surface hummed with power.
"Nothing gets through that," he said.
Kirk crossed his arms.
"Good."
The infected were trapped inside.
For now.
The containment bought them time.
But everyone knew the truth.
The threat was not eliminated.
Only delayed.
The decision came quickly.
The Village of Harvest was officially abandoned.
No one would enter again.
Not until the curse could be destroyed.
Soldiers began withdrawing from the perimeter as the final magical anchors of the barrier locked into place.
Orders spread through both kingdoms.
Lucindor and Perona began mobilizing forces across nearby settlements. Patrols were sent to neighboring villages to watch for any signs of infection spreading beyond the quarantine zone.
If the plague escaped…
The entire region could fall.
A short distance away, Eryndor sat quietly on a piece of fallen stone.
The battlefield had gone silent now.
The chaos was over.
But his mind was far from calm.
The Witch had revealed only a fraction of her power.
And defeating her would not be easy.
He considered every possible advantage.
One name entered his thoughts.
Sol.
The boy's power was immense.
With Sol's strength, the mission could end faster.
Safer.
But then another thought followed.
The corruption.
Sol's power came from the corrupted orb.
And every time he used it…
He risked losing himself.
Eryndor clenched his fist slightly.
"No," he muttered.
"Too dangerous."
Every choice carried consequences.
And he could not afford the wrong one.
Hours later, Art Ryder and the surviving soldiers returned to their home city.
They were exhausted.
Their armor was scratched and stained.
But they were alive.
And that alone was enough to spark celebration.
Crowds gathered along the city streets as the soldiers entered through the gates.
Cheers erupted.
People applauded.
Families rushed forward to embrace loved ones who had returned from the quarantine zone.
Sol, Eryndor, and the rest of the team were welcomed with relief and admiration.
"Heroes!" someone shouted.
"Thank the heavens you returned!"
But behind the celebration, the soldiers knew the truth.
The battle had not been a victory.
It had only been survival.
Soon after their return, the higher officials approached Eryndor.
Their expressions were serious.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
One official stepped forward.
"The Witch remains at large," he said firmly.
The room fell silent.
"We need you to hunt her down, Eryndor."
Eryndor didn't hesitate.
He simply nodded.
"I understand."
Art Ryder stood nearby, but the strain of the previous battle was clear on his face. His injuries had not fully healed.
He shook his head slightly.
"I'm not in shape for another mission," he admitted.
Sol leaned against a nearby pillar.
The faint darkness in his eyes made the officials uneasy.
His corruption was still unpredictable.
Sending him on a mission like this could end in disaster.
That left only one choice.
Eryndor.
Alone.
As the sun began to set over the city, the sky turned deep orange.
Eryndor stood on a balcony overlooking the streets below.
The celebration still echoed faintly in the distance.
But his thoughts were already elsewhere.
The next battle would not be easy.
And he would face it alone.
Then—
Chaos erupted in the City of Perona.
Near the mage towers, the usually lively streets suddenly fell silent.
The air grew cold.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
From the shadows, a figure moved silently through the city.
Agnes Monvois.
The Witch of the Fall.
Her centuries of experience allowed her to bypass the city's magical defenses with frightening ease. Guards failed to notice her presence.
Protective spells simply parted before her.
She moved like a ghost through the streets.
Then she struck.
Ariana Silver barely sensed the danger before it happened.
A surge of dark magic erupted from the shadows.
It struck her directly.
Her body was thrown backward as the force of the attack overwhelmed her defenses.
Her staff clattered across the stone floor.
And Ariana collapsed.
Unconscious.
City mages reacted instantly.
"Attack!" one of them shouted.
Spells flew toward Agnes.
But she moved like a shadow.
Every attack missed.
Every spell struck empty air.
Her eyes gleamed with cold amusement.
To her, this wasn't a battle.
It was a demonstration.
Centuries of experience distilled into one flawless assault.
Within seconds, she vanished into the darkness once again.
Taking Ariana with her.
Inside the Perona command hall, King Fred received the report.
His face went pale.
"This… this is Agnes Monvois," he said, his voice shaking.
The room fell silent.
"She has kidnapped Ariana Silver."
Panic spread among the officials.
King Fred immediately grabbed the communicator.
His fingers trembled as he activated it.
"King Henry!"
His voice echoed through the chamber.
"We need backup—now!"
He took a sharp breath.
"She's here in Perona… and she's unstoppable!"
Across the lands, the gears of war began turning once more.
The City of Perona had been shaken to its core.
The stakes had risen higher than ever.
Agnes Monvois had made her move.
And the real chase had finally begun.
Inside Lucindor's council chamber, tension filled the air.
Officials studied the incoming reports with grim expressions.
When the news of Ariana's kidnapping arrived, the room erupted into urgent discussion.
Plans were abandoned instantly.
The mission had changed.
One official turned toward Eryndor.
"Eryndor."
His voice was firm.
"This is no longer a mission to hunt the Witch."
He paused.
"Your new objective is to rescue the maiden mage."
The room fell silent.
Eryndor's jaw tightened.
But his answer came without hesitation.
"Understood."
He turned toward the exit.
"I'll leave immediately."
The officials exchanged uneasy glances.
They could have sent an army.
Elite soldiers from both Lucindor and Perona.
But that would only alert the Witch.
This mission required something else.
Precision.
Stealth.
One warrior.
The head official spoke again.
"You must go alone."
Eryndor stopped.
"This is strictly a rescue mission," the official continued. "Do not engage the Witch directly. Your only objective is to retrieve Ariana and return safely."
He looked Eryndor directly in the eyes.
"We cannot afford to lose another warrior of your caliber."
Eryndor nodded slowly.
He understood perfectly.
The mission.
The risk.
And the consequences.
The Witch had made her move.
Now it was his turn.