The forest's heavy silence was broken only by the squad's measured footfalls and the occasional rustle of leaves. Despite the recent ambush, Michael's focus never wavered. His Verdant Sensory ability pulsed outward, scanning for anything out of place.
Velara trudged alongside him, the remnants of her fiery grin still lingering. "That was fun," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "But next time, maybe don't hold back on the part where I get to blow things up sooner."
Michael gave her a sidelong glance, his lips twitching in a barely restrained smirk. "If we did that, what would we have left to fight? Ashes don't put up much of a struggle."
"Exactly!" she said, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "Ashes don't stab you in the back."
"Let's not give her any ideas," Torval grumbled, hefting his shield. "I like my back unstabbed, thanks."
Gregor chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "With her around, I think we're all just collateral damage waiting to happen."
"Hey!" Velara snapped, though her fiery glare lacked any real venom. "I only aim at the bad guys."
"Mostly," Seren murmured from her perch above, her bow ready as she scanned the treetops.
"Enough chatter," Michael interjected, his tone steady but firm. "The caravan won't wait, and we're down on mana. Stick to the plan. Velara, save the fireworks for when we need them."
"Fine, fine," she said, though the mischievous glint in her eyes promised otherwise.
Kara moved closer to Michael, her soft voice cutting through the banter. "Everyone's still worn from the fight. If we push too hard without rest, we'll be at a disadvantage."
Michael nodded. "We don't have much choice. The supplies that caravan carries could turn the tide for the enemy. If we let it slip by, we'll have bigger problems than exhaustion."
The squad's march eventually led them to a vantage point overlooking a narrow pass. Below, the caravan snaked its way through the terrain, heavily guarded by soldiers on foot and horseback.
Michael crouched behind a fallen log, his squad gathering around him. "Here's the situation," he began, his voice low. "They're expecting resistance, but they don't know we're here. That's our advantage. Gregor, we'll need you to funnel them into a choke point. Seren, pick off the stragglers. Torval, you're on defense. Kara, focus on keeping everyone alive. Velara…"
"Burn it all?" she asked, her grin reappearing.
Michael sighed. "Controlled burns. No incinerating the supplies."
Velara pouted. "You're no fun."
"Discipline," Michael replied, his tone stern but not unkind. "We win this because we work together. Everyone clear?"
A chorus of affirmatives followed, and Michael's confidence in his team solidified
The caravan's progress was slow, deliberate. The soldiers guarding it were spread out in a loose formation, no doubt anticipating trouble. It was Michael's job to make sure the trouble they anticipated was nothing compared to what he had in store.
Michael adjusted the strap on his Verdant Blade. The sword hummed with the faintest vibration, as if anticipating the coming fight. His squad crouched in position behind the cover of the forest's thick undergrowth. The quiet tension of the moment was suffocating. Every breath felt heavy, the weight of leadership pressing down on him.
Gregor's broad shoulders were hunched low, his hands hovering over the earth as he prepared to manipulate the terrain. His voice rumbled like the ground beneath them. "They'll make it through the pass, but we can't let them gain any ground beyond that."
Seren, perched on a higher branch, adjusted the grip on her bow. "The horses are my first target. They'll cause chaos if they get spooked."
Torval, ever stoic, flexed his fingers around the hilt of his sword. "Just give me a clear shot at the enemy. I'll hold the line."
Michael nodded, his eyes scanning the caravan's approach. His mind worked through the strategy once again, honing in on every detail. "We wait until they reach the bottleneck in the pass. Once they're there, we strike."
Velara was already bouncing on her heels, her hands twitching with barely-contained energy. "And what exactly do you want me to do, oh master strategist? Shall I torch the place? Set the woods on fire?" She flashed him a mischievous grin.
"No," Michael replied with a hint of amusement, though his voice was serious. "Set fire to the supply carts. The soldiers will try to protect them, and we'll have a perfect opening."
Velara's eyes lit up, and she gave an exaggerated salute. "Understood, captain. Controlled fire it is. No ash left behind… this time."
Kara moved closer, her expression calm, though her eyes were sharp with focus. "We'll need to be quick. The longer we delay, the more reinforcements they can summon."
Michael's gaze hardened as he looked at each member of his squad. "We strike fast, and we strike hard. No hesitation."
The moment the caravan passed through the narrow bottleneck, the signal was given.
Michael's hand shot out, and without a word, Gregor slammed his hands into the earth. A low rumble followed, and spikes of rock erupted from the ground, forcing the enemy soldiers to scramble. Their formation fractured instantly, panic spreading like wildfire.
Seren loosed her first arrow, the projectile slicing through the air with deadly precision. It struck a soldier's horse, sending the beast into a wild panic. The horse bucked and kicked, trampling several of its handlers. Seren's second shot took down another soldier, sending him crashing into a pile of rocks.
At the same time, Torval charged forward, his shield raised to block incoming arrows. He took a few blows, but his stance was unyielding. His sword lashed out with brutal precision, cutting down one of the soldiers who tried to engage him. "Come on, you want a piece of this?" Torval roared, his presence a wall of steel and fury.
Meanwhile, Kara moved in sync with the chaos, her hands glowing with water magic. A pressurized jet of water shot from her hands, slamming into an incoming soldier and sending them hurtling backward. As another soldier rushed toward her, she summoned a shield of water, deflecting a spear that would have pierced her chest.
Velara, on the other hand, had no intention of holding back. Her eyes blazed with fiery intensity as she summoned a torrent of flames, curling her hands into tight fists as fire erupted from her palms. With a roar, she unleashed a fireball the size of a cart toward one of the supply carts. The explosion was deafening, and the blaze consumed everything in its path. The soldiers nearest to the cart screamed in terror, trying to shield themselves from the flames. But Velara was relentless, sending a second, smaller blast into the midst of the soldiers, forcing them to scatter.
Michael's focus never wavered. He moved with precision, the Verdant Blade shifting effortlessly between forms as he cut through enemies with fluid grace. One moment it was a whip that disarmed an opponent, the next it was a spear that pierced through armor and bone. He never hesitated, his every movement dictated by the need to protect his squad and complete the mission.
The soldiers guarding the caravan fought back with surprising resilience, but they were disorganized, panicked. Michael's squad had them on the back foot from the very beginning.
"Velara!" Michael shouted, his voice cutting through the battle. "The carts—don't let them escape with supplies!"
Velara didn't need further instruction. She turned her attention to the remaining carts, her fire magic igniting with unrestrained fury. A massive fireball shot toward the last cart, turning it into a blazing inferno. The smoke billowed into the sky, thick and black. The remaining soldiers scrambled, trying to douse the flames, but the damage was done. The supplies were lost.
The battle raged on, but the tide had turned in Michael's favor. His squad's coordination was flawless, each member fulfilling their role with deadly efficiency. The remaining soldiers, now fully aware of the overwhelming odds stacked against them, began to falter.
One by one, they fell. By the time the last soldier surrendered, his hands raised in defeat, the forest was littered with the bodies of the fallen. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh stinging their nostrils.
Michael surveyed the aftermath, his breath steady despite the chaos. "Is everyone good?"
"Barely," Torval panted, wiping blood from his brow. "But we're still standing."
Kara checked her water pouch, ensuring it was still full. "I'm good. A few bruises, but nothing serious."
Gregor cracked his knuckles, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Couldn't have gone better."
Seren gave a sharp nod from her vantage point, scanning the area. "Nothing we couldn't handle."
Velara, still buzzing with energy, gave Michael a wicked grin. "Didn't I tell you I was a walking disaster? That was fun. Could've used more explosions, though."
Michael gave her a dry look. "We can't burn everything, Velara."
"Can't? Or you won't?" She winked, clearly enjoying herself.
Michael ignored her playful banter and turned back to the caravan. The mission was a success, but they couldn't afford to linger. They still had to make sure nothing—no one—was left behind to report back.
"Pack it up," Michael said. "We're moving out. The battle's won, but the war's still waiting for us."