Aamon struck first.
Black lightning erupted from his blade with a deafening crack, slicing through the air toward Morbelith like a living serpent of darkness. In her elegant Haldir's form, she leaped gracefully onto the nearby rooftop, the strike missing her by a hair's breadth. Without a moment's hesitation, she retaliated. Hellfire arrows infused with deadly poison erupted violently from the ground beneath Aamon and Gruk in a rapid, merciless barrage. The air filled with the acrid scent of sulfur and burning stone.
Aamon twisted his body aside at the last possible instant, the arrows whistling past him. Gruk, however, took the full brunt of the assault. Poison-laced flames seared deep into his flesh, drawing a guttural roar from his throat. Yet the wounds began to heal almost instantly, his demonic regeneration knitting the damaged tissue back together with grotesque speed. A feral grin split his face as he launched himself after her, muscles rippling with raw power. He chased Morbelith across the rooftops in a blur of motion. Blow after punishing blow rained down on him from her agile strikes, but he never faltered. Instead, he smiled wider, mocking her with every hit he absorbed as if her attacks were mere child's play.
Far below, the other guild members stared up in horror as the terrifying battle unfolded across the rooftops. Shocked whispers spread like wildfire through the streets Gruk and Aamon were demons openly attacking Haldir. Panic and confusion rippled through the crowd as they tried to make sense of the chaotic scene.
Morbelith's agility was truly frightening. She darted and weaved like a living shadow, constantly slipping just out of reach. Spotting her desperate attempt to escape, Aamon hurled his blade toward her with tremendous force. As the weapon spun through the air, time itself seemed to stretch and warp around it. The blade carved open a dark rift mid-flight. In the blink of an eye, Aamon teleported through the portal and materialized directly behind Morbelith.
He unleashed a brutal flying kick aimed squarely at her spine. She twisted at the last second and barely managed to block it with her arms, but the sheer impact still sent powerful shockwaves rippling through her body, rattling her bones and forcing a pained gasp from her lips. Before she could regain her balance or draw another breath, Gruk was already upon her. His massive fist slammed forward with terrifying speed, denying her even a single moment of respite.
Gruk and Aamon knew her too well. She was dangerous precisely because of how effortlessly she could escape and dodge. They refused to give her any opening.
The punch connected with clean, devastating force. Yet the instant Gruk's fist landed, Morbelith vanished into thin air, dissolving like mist in the wind.
Gruk snarled in frustration, his eyes scanning the surrounding rooftops and alleys. "She escaped?"
Aamon's lips curled into a cold, confident smile. "No. When I delivered that kick, I bound her with a Demonic Chain. She isn't going anywhere."
Morbelith cursed violently under her breath as she fled through the narrow streets Aamon, Gruk, and especially Miraleth. She pushed her body harder, willing her legs to carry her faster, but suddenly her limbs grew unnaturally heavy, as though invisible weights had been shackled to every joint. Confusion flashed across her features until her gaze dropped to the back of her hand. There, glowing with malevolent energy, was the demonic mark.
The Demonic Chain had taken hold.
She rounded a sharp corner and froze in place.
Standing directly in her path were Darius, Beatrice, Kufa, Raymond, and Elara. Their expressions ranged from wary to outright hostile, weapons and magic at the ready.
Morbelith's lips slowly curved into a dangerous, knowing smile.
High above the chaos, atop the hill where Miraleth's grand residence stood beside the King's Castle in the heart of the Ironclad Kingdom, Vael paid no attention whatsoever to the battle unfolding far below. The distant sounds of combat and the rising panic of the city barely registered in his mind.
He murmured quietly to himself, voice low and filled with quiet resolve, "Be it whatever… I'll have my revenge today."
As he took his first purposeful step forward, a massive rock came hurtling toward him from behind with lethal speed. Without even turning his head, Vael caught it effortlessly in one hand. The guards stationed at Miraleth's residence watched in stunned silence as he crushed the boulder into fine dust with a single, casual squeeze. The rock had been thrown by undead orcs, their foul, decaying energy still clinging to the powdered remains.
Vael's face twisted with irritation. Annoyed by the interruption, he activated one of his skills and hurled the shattered fragments back toward the undead horde with terrifying speed and precision. The debris streaked across the vast distance like deadly projectiles, tearing into the enemy ranks with explosive force.
A system notification flashed before his eyes:
[Quest Pending]
[Collect the Souls of the Slain Corpses]
He ignored it without a second thought, dismissing the glowing blue box with a flick of his mind.
When he turned his gaze fully toward Miraleth's residence, pure disgust etched itself across his features. The entire area including the King's Castle and the private quarters of every top official was enveloped by a powerful, shimmering protective shield. Layers of intricate magical barriers glowed faintly under the sunlight.
"So this is how they operate," Vael growled, his voice thick with contempt. "Hiding behind the people of Ironclad like cowards."
Deciding he had witnessed more than enough cowardice for one day, Vael raised his fist high. Dark energy surged violently around it, drawing in shadows from the surroundings. Black clouds rapidly formed overhead, swallowing the clear sky in moments. Ominous lightning crackled and danced within the churning mass, striking the ground in random, destructive bursts that shook the earth and filled the air with the sharp scent of ozone.
Everyone in the Ironclad Kingdom witnessed the terrifying phenomenon the roiling dark clouds and the immense, oppressive aura that pressed down on the city like an invisible weight. The heroes below, Aamon, Gruk, and even Morbelith in her Haldir form all felt the sudden, overwhelming shift in the atmosphere. None of them could pinpoint exactly where the suffocating presence originated from, but it sent chills racing down their spines.
Gruk and Aamon, however, spotted the source almost immediately.
"There," Gruk muttered, his sharp eyes locked onto the distant hilltop.
Suddenly, a system notification appeared directly in front of Vael's face, its text glowing with urgent red accents:
[Invalid Target]
[Error: Protected Zone Detected]
[Initiating Emergency Teleport]
[Destination: Outside the Main Gate Entrance]
Vael's eyes narrowed in pure fury as his body began to dematerialize against his will, pixels of dark energy pulling him apart.
"Not today," he snarled through gritted teeth, fighting the forced relocation with every ounce of his will.
The world blurred and twisted around him in a nauseating swirl of colors and shadows. In that final moment before he completely vanished, his killing intent surged uncontrollably toward the shielded castle like a physical wave, promising destruction and retribution.
To be continued.