As Tridra and Ophelia approached the front gates, two bandits wielding large scimitars stepped forward, their eyes narrowing as they took in the sight of the pair. Tridra straightened her posture, adopting the brash demeanor of the bandit she now appeared to be. She shoved Ophelia forward roughly, making her stumble.
"Move it!" Tridra barked, her tone sharp and commanding.
Ophelia nearly fell, but before she could regain her footing, Tridra moved up behind her, keeping the act convincing. One of the bandits, the one on the right, grinned and tilted his head. "Fresh meat?"
"No," Tridra replied, her voice cold and dismissive. "A noble some of my men caught down below. She'll fetch a good ransom."
The bandits exchanged glances, their eyes drifting to Ophelia as she struggled to her feet. Tridra grabbed the back of her cloak and yanked her upright, forcing her to stand. The bandit on the left smirked before both of them knocked on the massive wooden doors behind them simultaneously, delivering seven precise strikes. A heavy creak followed as the gates began to open inward.
"Move faster," Tridra snapped, giving Ophelia another shove.
As Ophelia stumbled forward again, Tridra caught sight of the two bandits chuckling quietly to themselves. The one on the left reached out toward Ophelia, his hand aiming for her rear. Tridra's hand shot out, slapping his away with enough force to make him pause.
"Keep your hands to yourself unless you want to deal with me," Tridra growled, her tone sharp and biting.
The bandit hesitated but only for a moment, stepping back slightly with a sly smirk. As Tridra pushed Ophelia forward through the gates, he called after them, "I wouldn't mind."
Tridra grimaced but kept moving, her focus on the path ahead as the heavy doors groaned shut behind them, sealing them inside the bandit base.
The two passed through the bustling marketplace, where dozens of bandits—men and women alike—turned to eye Ophelia hungrily. Tridra kept her expression hard as her eyes flicked over the stalls, each one crammed with stolen goods. Jewelry, weapons, exotic silks, and even strange magical artifacts lay scattered across the tables. Further down, a butcher hacked at a carcass while another bandit peddled bottles of strange, glowing liquids.
Some of the bandits approached, their smirks wide and their voices lewd. "Can we play with her a bit?" one asked, his hand reaching out.
"Back off," Tridra barked, waving them away with a sharp gesture. She didn't slow, forcing Ophelia to keep pace as they moved deeper into the market.
As they walked, Tridra's attention was caught by a group of seven hooded figures weaving through the crowd. Their dark cloaks were plain, but the way they moved set them apart—purposeful and silent. One by one, they glanced at Tridra, their eyes locking briefly with hers.
The faint clank of armor beneath their cloaks was barely audible over the noise of the market. Obviously, these were the Holy Knights.
They spread out, each heading in a different direction. Tridra kept her pace steady but didn't miss the subtle movements of one knight. As they passed by a barrel, a faint golden glow flickered from their hand. They placed something on the barrel's back and turned it toward the wall, ensuring their holy power was hidden from view.
Tridra tightened her grip on Ophelia's cloak, her mind racing. She pressed forward, guiding Ophelia out of the market and toward their next destination. Behind her, the sounds of the bandits' laughter and jeers faded, replaced by the tense awareness of the mission at hand.
As Tridra and Ophelia neared the edge of the market, the looming shapes of larger buildings reserved for the higher-ranking bandits came into view. Just as Tridra was about to press forward, a faint golden glint caught her eye. Unlike the markings left by the Holy Knights, this one seemed different—subtler, almost deliberate.
"Here," Tridra muttered under her breath, steering Ophelia into a dark alleyway. They moved quickly, their footsteps muffled against the stone.
In the shadowed corridor, Captain Edwin awaited them, his hood drawn low. He pulled it back, revealing his sharp, battle-worn face. "Everything is prepared," he said quietly, his voice calm but firm.
Ophelia stepped closer, her silver eyes locking onto his. "Did you find out what the Bandit Leader is up to?"
Edwin nodded. "From what we've sensed, he's still holed up in his quarters. The beast Tridra discovered is also deep within the ruins embedded in the mountain. It shouldn't pose a threat for now."
Ophelia nodded in understanding and turned to Tridra. Without a word, Tridra removed the bindings around Ophelia's wrists, her eyes darting over her shoulder to ensure they weren't being watched. Once satisfied, she tossed the ropes aside and refocused on Edwin.
The three exchanged a silent agreement before Tridra and Ophelia dashed out of the alleyway, emerging into a wider space just before the wall separating the fortress from the biting chill outside. A few bandits milling about on the outskirts of the market noticed them, their shouts ringing out.
"Hey! Who are—"
Their words were cut off as Captain Edwin and the rest of the Holy Knights appeared, regrouping swiftly. In perfect unison, the Holy Knights glanced down at their right index fingers. They pressed them to their thumbs, creating a spark of radiant light, and then snapped.
BOOOOOOOM!
The fortress erupted in chaos as over thirty explosions of holy light ignited across the compound. The blasts tore through buildings, sending debris flying and vaporizing bandits where they stood. Screams of terror were drowned by the deafening roar of destruction.
Tridra and Ophelia paused only briefly, glancing back at the golden inferno. Tridra's transformation unwound, her true form emerging as she turned to face the remaining bandits who had tried to pursue them. With a wicked grin, she raised both middle fingers in mockery just as the explosions consumed them in a fiery burst.
The group ran toward the wall's edge, the heat of the destruction warming their backs despite the frigid air. As they reached the wall's end, they slowed, catching their breath while the fortress burned behind them. Smoke billowed into the sky, and the faint cries of the few bandits who had barely survived began to fade, each one silenced by the passing moments.
When the smoke cleared, the fortress was nothing but scorched ruins. Tridra, Ophelia, and the Holy Knights turned back toward the center of the devastation and with weapons in hand, they advanced back towards the now broken fortress center.
Ophelia followed several paces behind, her expression icy, her eyes colder than the snow drifting in through the cracks in the fortress walls. The silence that settled over the ruins felt as final as the judgment they had delivered.
The group entered the smoldering remains of the bandit town, their boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground. Burned wood and shattered stone painted a bleak landscape. Among the wreckage, a few of the stronger bandits emerged, battered and bloodied but radiating raw fury. Without hesitation, they let out primal screams and charged.
Ophelia stepped back, her cold gaze fixed on the chaos before her. Moving carefully, she slipped around the battle, her steps soft as she made her way toward the rear of the fortress. There, she discovered a massive, gaping hole in the structure, its jagged edges revealing an entrance carved into the mountain beyond. While the Holy Knights and Tridra held the bandits' attention, Ophelia had another purpose.
Entering the actual ruins.
Back at the battle, Captain Edwin took point, his shield raised as a bandit swung a heavy club. The impact rang out as wood met steel, but Edwin absorbed the force with a solid stance, then countered with a horizontal slash. The bandit stepped back, clutching a fresh gash across his torso.
Alexandra was quick to join, her longsword gleaming even in the dull light. She ducked under a wild swing from another bandit, pivoting on her back foot to deliver a precise upward slice that cut through leather armor. As the bandit staggered, she spun again, the edge of her blade glinting as it found his side.
Tridra darted into the fray, her twin daggers flashing. She slipped low, evading a clumsy strike from a bandit's axe, and drove one dagger into his thigh. As he screamed, she twisted the blade, yanked it free, and slammed the pommel of the other into his jaw, sending him sprawling.
To the left, the Holy Knight wielding twin shortswords moved with unmatched speed. He parried a thrust, the sharp clang echoing, then drove both swords forward in quick succession, slicing across his opponent's chest. A bandit lunged from behind, but he pivoted smoothly, blades crossing in a swift X that left her attacker clutching his throat.
The Knight with a mace and shield faced two bandits. He raised his shield to block a downward strike, the blow glancing off with a dull thud. With a roar, he swung his mace in a brutal arc, crushing the ribs of one bandit. The second came at him with a dagger, but the Knight shifted, slamming his shield into the bandit's face and sending him reeling before finishing him with a crushing overhead strike.
The lance-wielding Knight stood tall, stabbing through gaps in the bandits' defenses. When one charged recklessly, he sidestepped, twisting his lance to trip the attacker. In one fluid motion, he reversed his grip and drove the weapon down, pinning the bandit to the ground.
The Knight with the battle axe advanced, his weapon cleaving through both air and opposition. A bandit swung a broken sword, but the Knight ducked under the attack and countered with a devastating upward strike, the axe splitting the bandit's weapon—and his resolve. Another opponent hesitated, but the Knight pressed forward, delivering a heavy kick to his chest before finishing him with a downward chop.
Amid the chaos, the last Knight wielding a longsword faced a bandit hurling crude magic. Flames erupted toward him, but he sidestepped, his blade glowing faintly. With a steady hand, he slashed downward, the holy energy of his weapon cutting through the magical flames. He closed the distance quickly, delivering a precise thrust to the bandit's chest, ending the threat.
Tridra, meanwhile, danced through the fight. She vaulted over a broken cart, landing in front of two bandits. One slashed at her wildly, but she caught his wrist, twisting it until he dropped his weapon. The second lunged, but Tridra spun, kicking him in the knee to unbalance him before plunging a dagger into his shoulder.
Captain Edwin raised his shield, calling out, "Stay in formation!" as he stepped forward.
A bandit threw a crude knife, but Edwin deflected it with his shield, charging the attacker and slamming him into a wall. He then stepped back, his sword carving through the bandit's defenses and life with one swing.
Within minutes, the bandits lay defeated, their rage no match for the combined strength of the group. The Holy Knights regrouped, bloodied but victorious, their weapons glinting as they turned their eyes toward the towering ruins ahead where their Mistress had gone. However, as Tridra wiped her daggers clean on her cloak, everybody felt something chilling. They all turned their eyes slightly to the left, watching a man in a dark cloak approach them.
It was the Bandit Leader. One could call him one of the Bandit Kings—the Ruler of the Steel Faction.
Eizum Bular.
The man stepped forward, his presence so heavy it felt as though gravity had doubled around the Holy Knights and Tridra. His blood-red eyes glowed faintly, cutting through the dim light like embers, and his long black hair shimmered as though laced with threads of metal, falling just past his shoulders.
He reached for the hilt of the sword at his side, a jagged and crooked weapon that seemed almost broken. With a smooth motion, he unsheathed it, the steel catching the light with an eerie, dark gleam. As he raised the weapon, a shift occurred—the twisted blade straightened with a metallic groan, elongating into a sleek and flawless longsword. Its surface was polished to perfection, gleaming like liquid silver.
His armor, a patchwork of dented plates and mismatched segments, began to ripple. The jagged edges seemed to dissolve into his skin before rebounding outward, reshaping and expanding into a sleek metallic suit that clung tightly to his form. The armor's surface shimmered as it molded to his body, extending down his arms into clawed gauntlets that gripped his sword. The armor hugged his slim but muscular torso, ending just below his chin in a sharp, high collar, while his legs were encased in polished metal boots that clicked against the ground with each movement.
The transformation continued as the tattered black cloak draped over his shoulders morphed. The fabric brightened, turning into pure silver that caught the faint light of the fire-lit ruins which were slowly being extinguished by the cold, rippling like water in the icy wind. An icy mist swirled around it, giving the cloak an almost otherworldly aura.
As he opened his mouth, a mist of icy wind wafted through his teeth, molded by his tongue, forming into the words slowly filling the atmosphere.
"For mere Holy Knights to come challenge me…" he muttered grimly. "I must've seemed weak to the Empire."