In the dense jungle, three men clad in black escorted a woman in an elegant white gown, moving swiftly through the underbrush. Despite their evident exhaustion, their pace did not falter. The woman they protected, though pale-faced and gasping for breath, gritted her teeth and pressed forward. This group consisted of Sir Lane, Princess Angelina, and two royal shadow guards.
"Your Highness, please rest for a moment!" Sir Lane spoke softly as he supported the princess's right arm. Although Lane had carried her through most of the arduous journey, two days and nights of relentless escape had pushed the sheltered princess far beyond her limits.
Princess Angelina merely wiped the sweat from her forehead and shook her head resolutely. She understood the peril they faced; every second counted with unknown pursuers hot on their trail. Leaning on Sir Lane's steady arm, she struggled to match the pace of the knight and the two shadow guards.
In such dire circumstances, propriety had long ceased to matter. Princess Angelina was no prude, and Lane's grip was respectful, with layers of fabric separating his hand from her skin.
Seeing the princess's determination, Lane couldn't help but admire her resilience. Even he, with his formidable physique and fighting energy aiding his body's recovery, was feeling the strain. The two shadow guards, though also using fighting energy to stave off fatigue, were nearing their limits. As lower-ranked knight squires, their fighting energy reserves were limited, and they had to save some strength for potential ambushes.
Much of their perseverance stemmed from Princess Angelina herself. If their fragile, noble-born princess could endure such hardship without complaint, how could they allow themselves to falter?
However, Angelina's endurance wasn't merely due to willpower. Few knew her secret: she was an apprentice magician, on the verge of advancing to a low-tier magic apprentice. Despite her frail appearance, she possessed considerable mental fortitude. Magic apprentices focused primarily on honing their mental strength, storing mana, and assisting their mentors in experiments. This mental discipline had helped her endure the harrowing escape alongside the trained warriors.
Yet even Angelina was reaching her limit, surviving now on sheer grit.
Elsewhere, Casar and Leyte led the Blood Crimson soldiers to the cave where Princess Angelina and her party had briefly rested. Leyte knelt, pinching a bit of ash from the extinguished fire. "They left less than a day ago."
Tracking through the dense forest was no easy task, and it had taken the Blood Crimson nearly an entire day to cover the ground Angelina's party had crossed overnight.
"We're close. Move out!" Casar ordered confidently.
The Blood Crimson soldiers advanced through the forest, dry branches snapping beneath their boots. The withered trees of late autumn stood stark and lifeless, save for a few evergreen species that stubbornly retained their vibrancy.
The wildlife of the Bering Mountains suffered terribly this season. Normally, they would be preparing for winter, but the arrival of these murderous intruders had thrown their world into chaos. The oppressive aura of both the Blood Crimson soldiers and Sir Lane's mid-tier knight squire presence had driven many magical beasts into hiding.
By dusk on the following day, the flickering light of a campfire cast faint shadows across the weary faces of Princess Angelina and her protectors. Lane spoke reassuringly, "Your Highness, we're only five days from the edge of the Bering Mountains. Once we're out, I can contact nearby allies to ensure your safety."
Princess Angelina nodded weakly, her face pale but determined. The grueling journey had taken its toll, leaving her looking fragile and vulnerable.
The two shadow guards also relaxed slightly. The looming specter of imminent danger had kept them on edge for days, but the promise of safety allowed them a momentary lapse in vigilance.
Suddenly, a blood-red dagger streaked through the twilight sky like a bolt of crimson lightning, aimed straight at one of the shadow guards.
"Clang!" Sir Lane reacted instantly, drawing his sword and deflecting the dagger mid-air. The weapon, thrown with deadly precision, was knocked off course, allowing the startled guard to narrowly dodge what would have been a fatal blow.
"Who's there?" Lane barked, scanning the surrounding trees with sharp, focused eyes.
This wasn't the tangled undergrowth of earlier days; the terrain here was more open. Lane's trained senses extended fifty meters in every direction, confident he would detect any movement. Yet, someone had approached undetected and launched an attack—an enemy far above Lane in skill.
A raspy voice echoed from the shadows, infused with a faint ripple of fighting energy that distorted its direction. "Well, you've run far enough."
The sound of footsteps crunched on fallen leaves as Blood Crimson soldiers emerged from the trees, clad in their signature crimson armor. Lane's expression darkened as he recognized them instantly.
Standing at the forefront was Leyte, arms crossed and smirking smugly as if watching cornered prey.
Lane stepped forward, sword drawn, shielding Princess Angelina behind him. Leyte exuded an aura so powerful it felt suffocating, reminiscent of the commanders of the elite shadow squads Lane had once served alongside.
"Ah, I thought I smelled something familiar—a shadow guard dog!" Leyte sneered as he removed his helmet, revealing sharp features and bloodshot eyes that gleamed with predatory malice.
The animosity between Blood Crimson and the Shadow Guards was infamous. While the bulk of Blood Crimson had been decimated by Garrel's forces, it was the shadow guards who had delivered surgical strikes against their leadership, assassinated key operatives, and disrupted their operations.
Leyte's crimson blade, a curved weapon designed for maximum lethality, appeared in his hand with a faint hum, vibrating as if eager for blood.
Lane tightened his grip on his sword, eyes locked on the blade. Behind that menacing curve, he could see the specter of death.