The moment the cloaked figures emerged from the trees, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The tension was so thick it was palpable, the air charged with a sense of imminent danger. Luke's heart pounded in his chest as he surveyed the group surrounding them. Each figure was shrouded in darkness, their faces obscured by the deep hoods of their cloaks. There was no telling how many they were, but their presence alone made it clear: they were heavily outnumbered.
Luke took a deep breath, tightening his grip on his sword. His gaze locked onto the leader, the man who had taunted them before, his voice dripping with arrogance. He stood at the front of the group, arms crossed, a sly smile tugging at his lips. His confidence was unnerving, as though he had already won.
