The battle was going decently well, Lael and his party were holding out, but the fact was that no one died yet. The instant Lael was close to striking down an enemy, another would take his place intercepting his blow. The same situation was playing out for Eve and Chris. With twenty-four enemies, around twenty-one of them were engaged in close combat. The remaining three held bows, nocked at the ready looking for an opening.
It was obvious that his father's party was much stronger individually compared to the slave traders, however their number advantage was too great. Eventually, they would be tired out at this pace!
Lael, on one side of the carriage, found himself facing eight adversaries, while Chris battled against six. Albert watched with a steady gaze as his father's sword danced with deadly precision, parrying blows and launching counterattacks with practiced skill.
The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the surroundings in a melody of brutal violence. It was at this moment, one man finally managed to slip between Lael's defense as he quickly leapt onto the wagon.
It was the man who earlier made vulgar comments towards Alise. With a scruffy beard and sunken in eyes, his expression was nothing less than vile.
"Alise!" Lael's voice rang out with desperation as he tried to break away from his opponents, only to find him hemmed in by the relentless aggression of his adversaries.
'Curses!' His wife and son were behind him!
Albert locked eyes with the man as he inched closer and closer smirking in glee.
"Little boys shouldn't be holding onto sharp toys like that." He cackled while licking his sword.
He felt his mother pull him towards her holding him tightly.
The lecherous man's smile grew wider.
"Mom, don't worry. I'll protect you." Albert softly whispered towards his mother.
"Wait–!"
Before Alise could protest or stop him, Albert broke free from her embrace, stepping forward to stand face to face with the looming slave trader.
"Pretending to be brave now are we?" the man sneered, towering over Albert with his weapon poised for attack.
'He's much taller than me and has a weapon with far greater reach,' Albert thought quickly, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. 'The only good thing is that he nullified that advantage by standing so close to me. With my current strength, I would need to thrust my entire body weight into an attack that could incapacitate him or kill him instantly.'
"Frozen in fear now…hahaha!"
The man didn't even consider the possibility of a kid fighting back; in his eyes, someone Albert's age had never even touched a weapon before, much less killed someone. He had seen countless young kids attempt to take up arms in desperation, with none of them amounting to anything. It was no different this time or so he thought.
With a swift and decisive moment, Albert lunged forward, his small frame a blur of motion as he thrust the dagger towards the man's exposed throat with all the force he could muster.
The slave trader's eyes widened in shock as the blade found its mark, sinking deep into his flesh with a sickening crunch. A gurgled gasp escaped his lips as blood gushed from the wound, staining the wooden carriage crimson.
Albert stood there, panting heavily, his hands slick with blood as he withdrew the dagger, his expression unchanging throughout the entire sequence of events.
The man crumpled to the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky with a shocked expression now permanently plastering his face.
Alise stared at her son in disbelief as he turned around to face her, his sky blue eyes piercing her own. For a split second she had doubts that it was truly her son in that small body. Otherwise, how else would they be able to kill without even a moment of hesitation?
Meanwhile…
Chris had taken down three men on his side while Eve and Cleo combined had finished off five of the enemies on their side. Although Lael couldn't see what had happened in the carriage behind him, it was now silent. Cleo must've taken care of it. He made a mental note to treat her to a meal sometime.
As the battle began to wind down, Roland, who had been observing from a distance, scoffed in disdain. Twenty-four men, and they couldn't even neutralize four adventurers. It was a pitiful display, but one that Roland had expected.
He had originally hired a surplus of men to assist him gather up slaves on the Araxian continent before preparing to depart on his ship in Berxley. Most of his men were cheap labor, former criminals that made up the bulk of his capturing force.
However, this surplus of men came with its own drawbacks. The more men he hired, the more he had to divide his profits and pay for their upkeep. Was it really worth going after two potential slaves from the Shawling party? If the cost was losing several of his own men, certainly not. It even appeared that eventually, the remnants of his force would be defeated.
So why did Roland make the decision to attack? The answer was quite simple really. To thin out his own worthless hires while acquiring more goods to sell.
His plan was devious and cunning. As a tier five mage, he never needed to worry about the possibility of losing in the first place. He had purposefully suppressed his own abilities to incite his men to take action into their own hands.
Now, as he watched the battle unfold with a sinister gleam in his eyes, Roland decided it was time to make his move.
"It's about time I participated in the battle as well," he muttered to himself, a wicked smile playing on his lips.
Just then, Cleo's voice cut through the chaos, her bowstring taut as she readied another arrow. "Lael, we've taken care of the front side of the carriages! We're moving in to assist!"
"Explode."
The chilling command cut through the chaos, freezing the air as a small ball of light materialized between Lael and his family. In that split second, Albert's instincts kicked in as he dove towards his mother, shielding her with his small body. He didn't need to understand the intricacies of magic to know that whatever was coming was dangerous.
Seconds ticked by like eternity as Albert braced for impact. The ball of light erupted into a searing explosion, its heat blasting through the air, charring the wooden carriage and scorching the dry grass. Albert felt the intense heat on his back, searing pain shooting through his body as he collapsed into his mother's embrace.
'Magic! Their leader was a mage!' The realization hit Albert like a ton of bricks. This explained the lack of technological development in this world. With people capable of wielding firepower of that level, it was no wonder mages were the most dominant force.
"Honey! A-Albert is injured!" Alise's voice trembled with fear and concern as she held her wounded child close. Albert had protected her selflessly, taking the brunt of the blast to shield her from harm.
Meanwhile, Roland began to walk closer and closer to the Shawling party, his demeanor calm and composed. The members of the party turned their attention to him, their gazes filled with a mixture of anger and apprehension.
Lael, though injured from the blast, stood tall, his cold glare fixed on the approaching mage. The explosion had left him staggering, but through sheer will, remained standing.
"No need to glare at me like that, Mr. Shawling," Roland spoke, his voice carrying a nonchalant tone that belied the danger he presented. "Hand over the kid, and we'll be on our way."
His words hung in the air; the underlying threat clear. It was as if Roland didn't consider anyone present a threat to himself, his confidence stemming from the overbearing destructiveness of his magic.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I will simply cast another spell with greater magnitude again. Your party has killed several of our men. Asking for a single boy in return is quite generous, don't you think?"
Lael gritted his teeth in fury as he looked back at his wife and son. Alise had tears in her eyes while Albert simply laid there with burn marks all over his back.
"Lael, you can't…!" Alise's voice cracked with emotion as she pleaded with her husband. "You can't give them our son! I will never be able to live with myself knowing he had to sacrifice himself for me! You can't!"
Turning his gaze towards his party members, Lael saw the same anguish reflected in their eyes. They shook their heads slowly, their expressions firm with resolve. They weren't willing to surrender without a fight.
"I will only be this generous once. Hand over the boy." Roland's tone grew colder.
If Lael handed over his son, he would be the most pathetic excuse of a father ever, sacrificing his own flesh and blood to save his party. But if he didn't, he risked the lives of everyone here–his wife, their unborn child, and his loyal companions.
In that moment of unbearable pressure, Lael felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He couldn't make the choice. How could he choose between his family and his duty as a leader? How could he live with the consequences of either decision?
At this moment, Albert let out a hoarse cough as he struggled to stand up.
"Albert! Don't move, you're severely injured right now!"
He had heard everything. In the present moment, Albert knew his father would never choose to give him up. He was just that kind of man.
His mother's silhouette appeared hazy through his blurred vision as he rubbed the blood from his eyes, trying to focus. Using the side of the carriage as a shaky support, Albert slowly pulled himself up, his body trembling with the effort.
"I'll go with you." He said softly, his voice hoarse.
Alise's gasp of horror filled the air as she reached out towards her son, her heart breaking at his words.
"No, Albert, take back what you said! We'll protect you!"
"Mom, if everyone can be safe after I leave, wouldn't that be great?"
"What are you saying right now! Sit down right now Albert Shawling!"
Roland's smirk widened as he watched the scuffle between the mother and son.
"At least someone here realizes the situation they're in."
His mother's cries of protest fell on deaf ears as Albert took a shaky step forward ignoring the pain coursing through his body. He didn't want to lose the opportunity to protect his loved ones ever again. If simply surrendering himself could allow his family to survive, so be it.
As Albert dragged himself past his father, their eyes met for a brief moment. He could see how torn he was between being forced to choose between abandoning his only son or the well-being of the rest of his party. Although he wanted to go back to comfort his parents, he feared that he might lose the will to leave them despite the short amount of time they've been together. They were his first real family after all.
Lael raised his hand preparing to stop his only son until he met his eyes. They were firm, decisive unlike his own. At that moment, everyone's shouts and cries passed through him as if he was submerged under water. That one action seemed to take the soul out of him as he lowered his hand again. The amount of feelings he felt looking at his son's small back couldn't be conveyed through words.
He balled his fingers into a fist.
'I'll come back for you Albert; I promise.'