The Valorian scouts circled like predators, their fiery blades glinting in the molten light. The group was pressed against a jagged cliff face, the molten rivers cutting off their escape routes.
"Outnumbered. Typical," Oran muttered, his threads coiling tightly around his hands.
"Stay close," Kael said, his tone calm but firm. His fingers hovered near his side, his posture loose, as though he were barely paying attention.
Elara shifted her grip on her dagger, her heart pounding. She glanced at Lyra, who was already notching an arrow, her golden trajectory lines shimmering faintly in the thick air.
The first scout charged, their blade glowing with molten energy. Kael didn't flinch. Instead, he snapped his fingers—a sharp, precise sound that echoed above the roar of the molten rivers.
In an instant, Kael disappeared, reappearing behind the scout with a calm precision that was almost unnerving. The scout stumbled, disoriented, and Lyra's arrow struck true, sending them to the ground.
"Nice," Oran said, his voice tight with tension.
Another scout lunged forward, and Kael snapped his fingers again, vanishing and swapping places with a fallen chunk of debris. The scout's blade struck the stone, throwing them off balance.
Kael appeared beside them, his expression impassive. He didn't attack—he simply raised his hand and snapped again. This time, nothing happened.
The scout froze, their confusion evident.
"What—"
Before they could react, Oran's threads wrapped around their legs, yanking them to the ground.
"Show-off," Oran muttered, but his grin betrayed his admiration.
The snapping sound became a rhythm in the battle, sharp and deliberate. Kael moved like a phantom, his positional swaps creating chaos among the scouts. His unpredictability kept them off balance, each snap of his fingers making them flinch, unsure if they were about to be displaced—or simply outmaneuvered.
"He's playing with them," Elara muttered under her breath, her awe growing with each movement Kael made.
"He's controlling the fight," Lyra corrected, her arrows curving mid-flight to strike targets before they could recover. "Confusion is a weapon. Pay attention."
Elara nodded, her grip tightening on her dagger. She watched Kael closely, trying to understand the flow of his movements, the way he used his ability to manipulate not just the battlefield but his enemies' minds.
Just as the tide began to turn in their favor, a new figure emerged from the shadows. This one was taller, broader, and clad in obsidian armor etched with glowing runes. Their blade pulsed with a deep red energy, and their presence seemed to suck the air out of the battlefield.
"A Valorian Blademaster," Lyra said, her tone dark. "We've got a problem."
The Blademaster raised their weapon, the glow intensifying. "Outlanders," they said, their voice a deep, resonant growl. "You have defiled sacred ground. You will fall."
Kael stepped forward, his expression unchanging. His fingers flexed, and the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The Blademaster charged with a roar, their blade slashing toward Kael in an arc of molten energy.
Kael snapped his fingers.
In a flash, he swapped positions with a nearby scout's fallen body, the Blademaster's strike missing by inches. Kael reappeared a few paces away, standing casually with one hand at his side.
"Missed," Kael said, his voice calm. He snapped again, and this time, nothing happened.
The Blademaster hesitated, their eyes narrowing.
"That's right," Kael murmured. "Wonder what happens next."
Kael's snapping became a deliberate rhythm, each sound punctuating the battle like a drumbeat. Sometimes he swapped positions, appearing in places that left the enemy disoriented. Other times, he snapped and stayed where he was, using the sound to force the Blademaster into defensive moves that left openings for his allies.
Lyra seized every moment Kael created, her arrows raining down with unerring precision. Oran's threads coiled around the Blademaster's legs, slowing their movements just enough for Elara to move in close.
"Elara, now!" Lyra shouted.
Elara darted forward, her ability flaring as she reached out toward the Blademaster's armor. The prismatic energy coursing through it faltered, the glow dimming as her disruption took hold.
The Blademaster staggered, their grip on their blade faltering.
Kael appeared beside them in an instant, his blade drawn. He didn't strike. Instead, he snapped his fingers one last time.
The sound echoed like a final note, and the Blademaster froze.
Lyra's arrow struck their exposed core, the energy erupting in a blinding flash.
The battlefield fell silent, the remaining scouts retreating into the shadows. The group stood amidst the carnage, their breaths heavy but steady.
"That was…incredible," Elara said, looking at Kael with wide eyes.
Kael glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "It was necessary."
Oran clapped him on the back, grinning despite his exhaustion. "Necessary? That was genius. The snaps? Brilliant. I'm stealing that."
Kael smirked faintly. "You can try."
Lyra slung her bow across her back, her sharp gaze scanning the horizon. "This was just the beginning. Valoria won't let us through without more bloodshed."
"Then we'll give them a reason to fear us," Kael said quietly, his fingers flexing at his side.
Elara felt a flicker of hope amidst the tension. With allies like these, maybe survival wasn't just possible—it was inevitable.