Padrin urged his horse onward, the distance between him and Neclord shrinking with each passing second. Neclord glanced back, his face pale with fear and desperation. His voice, trembling with a mix of fury and panic, broke the tense silence.
"Don't think you'll get me so easily!" Neclord shouted, his one good arm clutching the reins as he tried to maintain control.
Padrin didn't reply. He had no intention of wasting words. As he drew near, Padrin swung his sword with deadly precision. Neclord, barely holding onto his weapon, managed to parry the first few strikes, but his strength was waning. With only one arm to defend himself, it wasn't long before his sword was knocked from his grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground.
Neclord's horse, already wounded from the long chase, stumbled beneath him. It couldn't outrun Padrin's steed any longer. Sensing its weakness, Padrin drove his blade into the horse's side, ending its struggle. The beast collapsed with a cry, and Neclord tumbled to the ground, sprawling awkwardly in the dirt.
From a distance, Amukelo's voice cut through the chaos. "Good! Now hold him for a moment! I'll deal with these fools and settle things with him myself!"
Amukelo turned back to the enemies still surrounding him, no longer distracted by the chase. His strikes became more efficient, each one cutting through the guards who sought to overwhelm him.
But Padrin had no intention of waiting. He dismounted swiftly, his sword raised as he approached the fallen Neclord. Neclord, breathing heavily, tried to crawl backward, clawing at the ground in a desperate attempt to put distance between himself and the cold steel of Padrin's blade.
Padrin stood over him, his face impassive as he aimed his sword at Neclord's chest. "Sorry, Amukelo," he muttered under his breath, "but it's better for you if someone else takes this burden from you."
With that, Padrin raised his sword, ready to end Neclord's life. Neclord squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the blow.
But the strike never came.
A loud clang echoed through the clearing as Padrin's sword was stopped mid-air. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked up to see Jezar, the same swordsman Amukelo had fought earlier, standing before him. Jezar's blade held Padrin's in place, his dark eyes cold and steady.
"I guess you won't be taking his revenge either," Jezar said, his voice calm and mocking.
Before Padrin could react, the whistle of a blade cutting through the air warned him of another attack. He stepped back just in time to dodge a massive axe, its edge barely missing him by an inch. The wielder of the weapon, Ovun, grinned as he adjusted his stance, his towering form casting a shadow over Padrin.
"Whooh, we were lucky to get here on time," Ovun said, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Neclord, still on the ground, looked up at his saviors with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Ovun and Jezar stood guard over him now, their weapons ready, ensuring Padrin wouldn't have another chance to strike.
Padrin clenched his jaw, glancing between the two warriors and back at Amukelo, who was still locked in combat. He knew the odds weren't in their favor.
Meanwhile, Amukelo was surrounded, his sword cutting through the soldiers as they pressed in from all sides. His movements were sharp and precise, but something in the air shifted. The soldiers' eyes kept flicking behind him, and that gave him just enough of a warning.
Amukelo spun around, barely in time, as Peles lunged at him from the shadows. The blade sliced through the air, grazing Amukelo's shoulder as he dodged the worst of the strike. Blood seeped through his tunic, but Amukelo stood firm, his eyes narrowing in recognition.
"You again..." he growled, his voice filled with venomous hatred.
Peles didn't respond, only circling, his blade poised for another strike. Amukelo's grip tightened on his sword, the pain in his shoulder barely registering against the wave of fury rising within him. His anger boiled over, burning away the distraction of the wound.
Without waiting for Peles to strike again, Amukelo rushed forward with a roar, his sword cutting through the air with savage force. "Get out of my way!" he yelled, his voice thunderous as he charged at Peles, ready to finish the fight.
Amukelo and Peles clashed with a burst of sharp steel and fierce movement. Peles's twin daggers flashed in the dim light, darting in and out with precision, but his strikes were measured, controlled. He wasn't looking to kill—he was stalling. Amukelo, however, was too blinded by his rage to notice the subtlety in Peles's attack. His swings were wild, fueled by the burning fury that clouded his mind, each strike meant to cut through his foe and release the storm inside him.
Peles stepped back with each of Amukelo's heavy swings, deftly blocking and dodging, his eyes darting past Amukelo toward where Jezar and Ovun were finishing off Padrin. They had their own target to deal with first, and Peles was just the distraction. Amukelo was oblivious to all of this. He didn't care where Jezar or Ovun were, nor did he care what was happening with Neclord or Padrin. His mind was locked onto Peles, the only enemy in front of him.
Amukelo growled in frustration, his sword flashing dangerously as it missed Peles by a breath. But then, they both heard it—the distinct sound of hooves galloping towards them. Peles, momentarily distracted, glanced back toward the source of the noise. Amukelo, however, saw it clearly. It was Padrin, riding hard in their direction, his face set with urgency.
"We have to retreat! We're severely outnumbered!" Padrin yelled as he drew closer.
Amukelo hesitated, still locked in combat with Peles, his fury burning too fiercely to listen. His sword clashed against Peles's daggers, sparks flying with each hit. Padrin's words barely registered as Amukelo's gaze shifted from Peles to the soldiers surrounding them, then toward Jezar and Ovun near where Neclord lay. Slowly, the realization began to creep in. They were surrounded—heavily outnumbered.
But his anger, his all-consuming need for revenge, wouldn't let him back down. He turned back to Peles, who took the opportunity to press the attack, darting in with quick slashes. Amukelo parried each blow, his breath growing ragged, but his feet remained firmly planted.
"Amukelo!" Padrin's voice cut through the air, sharp and desperate. "If you don't escape now, you'll fail to get your revenge!"
The words hit like a punch, snapping Amukelo out of his rage. For a moment, he saw clearly—his revenge would mean nothing if he died here. He needed to survive. With a deep breath, he forced himself to calm.
He turned on his heel and began running in the direction Padrin was heading. Behind him, Peles cursed and broke into a sprint, determined not to let Amukelo escape. "I won'tlet you get away again!" he spat, his boots pounding the earth as he closed in on Amukelo.
But Amukelo had no intention of fleeing without a fight. When he had put some distance between himself and the soldiers, he made a sudden turn, swinging his sword in a wide arc toward Peles. The assassin barely had time to react, crossing his daggers in front of him just in time to block the blow. The impact sent a shudder through his arms, but before he could regain his footing, Amukelo drove his boot into Peles's stomach with a vicious kick, sending him stumbling back several steps.
Just then, Padrin arrived, galloping toward Amukelo. Without a word, he extended his hand. Amukelo grabbed it, and in one smooth motion, Padrin pulled him onto the back of the horse. They didn't stop. Padrin spurred his horse onward, the two of them racing away from the battlefield.
Peles, regaining his balance, growled in frustration. "You won't escape that easily!" He hurled a barrage of daggers toward the fleeing pair, but Amukelo twisted in his saddle, his sword flashing through the air as he deflected each one with precision. The daggers clattered harmlessly to the ground, none finding their mark.
Mages, sensing the escape, quickly cast spells, launching bolts of energy toward them. Amukelo, determined to protect their only means of escape, raised his sword once again. The blade caught each magical attack, dispersing the blasts in the air, making sure none of them reached the horse. The steed remained unscathed, galloping ahead with relentless speed.
Behind them, Jezar, Ovun, and Peles regrouped near the mages. Ovun snarled, his grip tightening on his massive axe as he glanced at the two mages. "Get off those horses. We're taking them," he barked, his tone brooking no argument.
The mages quickly dismounted, fear clear on their faces as Jezar, Ovun, and Peles mounted their steeds. Without hesitation, they kicked their horses into a gallop, chasing after Amukelo and Padrin, who had already gained some distance.