Rain poured heavily, drenching the ground without pause and creating puddles along the path traversed by the rescue troops. The night was pitch black, illuminated only occasionally by lightning striking from the sky, casting sharp shadows among the forest trees. The cold air pierced to the bone, and the sound of rain pounding on leaves mingled with the heavy footsteps of the soldiers.
Aris Cean stood in the middle of the line, his sharp eyes trying to pierce through the darkness and the relentless downpour. Though his body was soaked to the skin, he didn't care. His determination to save Lysandra was stronger than the biting cold or the creeping fatigue. Around him, heavily armed soldiers treaded carefully, maintaining a safe distance from one another to avoid breaking formation amidst the dark and slippery terrain.
"Report!" a voice called from the front of the line. A man dressed in dark clothing with a hood over his head approached the troop leader, his face barely visible under the shadow of the rain.
"We're getting closer," he reported in a calm yet firm tone. "The location where they're holding Miss Lysandra is confirmed to be an old fortress in the eastern valley. However, their guards are numerous, and they have patrols even in this downpour."
Lord Sylas, who led the troops, nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. He turned to his soldiers and gave a low command for everyone to remain vigilant. Aris, hearing the report, felt his heart pounding faster. He clenched his fists, trying to calm the mix of anger, anxiety, and fear for Lysandra's safety.
"We must proceed cautiously," Lord Sylas said coldly. "Do not let them notice our presence before the time is right. Aris, stay at the rear and follow orders. This is no place for reckless actions."
Aris nodded, though his heart rebelled. He fully understood the importance of the mission, but the urge to run straight to the fortress was hard to suppress. In his mind, he kept picturing Lysandra, possibly frightened or injured in the hands of her captors. The guilt of failing to protect her from the start gnawed at him.
The troops pressed on, braving the rain and the darkness of the night. The old fortress, their destination, began to emerge faintly in the distance, standing like a towering, ominous shadow in the valley. The tension grew, and Aris felt that every step brought them closer to an unseen danger.
But something they hadn't anticipated occurred. Midway through their journey, the troops split into two smaller groups to infiltrate the fortress from different directions. As they divided, shadowy figures lurking in the darkness began to move. In an instant, both groups found themselves surrounded by enemies from all sides. Warning shouts rang out, barely audible over the relentless rain.
"It's a trap!" one soldier yelled, raising his sword high to block the first incoming attack.
Aris, in the second group, felt his heart race. He unsheathed his sword, his eyes scanning for an opening to fight or escape. But the enemies were numerous, their figures blending with the darkness, turning the battle chaotic and unpredictable.
In the midst of the skirmish, Aris remembered something. The glint of rain and the rush of water around him sparked an idea. He glanced at his sword, and memories of training with his parents suddenly flooded his mind.
"Aris, listen carefully," his father's firm voice echoed during a training session. His father, a legendary swordsman, stood before a young Aris. In his hands, a sword gleamed, enveloped by a swirling layer of water. "This is the sword-laminating technique. By concentrating on the flow of energy and utilizing the water element around you, you can create a weapon far sharper and deadlier."
Young Aris watched in awe, trying to mimic his father. He lifted his sword, attempting to focus on the droplets of water around him. But his efforts failed. The water merely dripped uncontrollably from the blade's edge.
His father chuckled softly. "Don't rush. Feel the water around you. Understand its current, then let it become a part of your weapon."
On another occasion, his mother took the lead in his training. At a small pond near their home, his mother, an arch-priestess with mastery over the water element, sat by the pond's edge, gazing at Aris gently.
"Water is not just for combat, Aris," she said. "It holds the power to heal and restore. If you're injured, focus on the flow of water coursing through your body. Imagine it washing away the pain and replacing it with new strength."
Aris looked at his mother with hope, dipping his hands into the water to feel its cold embrace. With her guidance, he learned to use water to accelerate the healing of minor wounds.
Back in the present, Aris closed his eyes for a moment, recalling those lessons. Amid the intensifying rain, he began to focus his mind. Water flowed all around him, and he felt the energy his parents had once taught him to harness.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his sword. Water began to coat the blade, spinning rapidly until it resembled a fine, deadly buzz saw. The enemies around him appeared startled, but Aris gave them no time to react. With a swift slash, he incapacitated his foes, proving himself the heir to his parents' formidable legacy.
Aris led the second group with extraordinary skill. His blazing spirit uplifted the morale of his comrades despite the pouring rain. He advanced without hesitation, his eyes sharp and focused, cutting down every enemy in his path. The water-layered technique made his strikes swift and lethal. In the midst of the battlefield, his father's words resonated in his mind, "Never hesitate. Hesitation is the end of life." With unwavering resolve, Aris pushed forward, guiding his group toward victory against seemingly impossible odds.
However, the battle intensified when seven enemies encircled him simultaneously. They attacked from all directions, forcing Aris to dodge, block, parry, and counterattack in rapid succession. His movements were fluid, as if dancing in the rain with his sword. Though he sustained some injuries, the rainwater, synchronized with his recovery technique, quickly healed him. These were the strongest foes Aris had ever faced apart from his father, but his calm demeanor and expertise carried him through. With one final attack, harnessing the vortex of water on his blade, Aris defeated them one by one.
After ensuring his enemies were no longer a threat, Aris took a deep breath. He gazed toward the old fortress looming in the valley. Without further delay, he decided to move alone toward the castle, his resolve firm to save Lysandra. His steps quickened despite his exhaustion, until he finally reached the massive gates of the fortress, standing before the large wooden doors that loomed ominously under the heavy rain.