The cold wind whispered through the ruins of ancient stone, carrying with it the scent of blood and mud. In the midst of that battlefield, Dimas stood swaying, his body covered in wounds and his breath coming in labored gasps. Before him stood the Elite Knight—clad in shining silver armor, a shadow of death that he would never reach, no matter how hard he tried.
"Is that all? Your mouth is far too big for someone who has no strength!" sneered the Elite Knight, his gaze dripping with contempt.
Dimas said nothing, his teeth clenched in fury. He gripped his sword tighter and surged forward.
The clash of blades rang out. Dimas attempted to strike with his short sword, but his movements were too predictable. With the grace of a seasoned warrior, the Elite Knight spun, easily dodging the blow, and retaliated with an onslaught as fierce as a storm. Each strike made Dimas's arms tremble, forcing him to block with growing difficulty, his strength draining with every passing moment.
The Knight swung his sword from the side—a simple movement, yet filled with brute strength. Dimas raised his sword to block, but the impact rattled his bones, almost causing him to lose his grip. Before he could catch his breath, a second strike came down from above, and Dimas was forced to leap backward, his feet stumbling over a small stone in the dirt.
"Keep dancing, little thief," the Knight mocked, his voice like thunder rolling in the distance.
Dimas tried to retaliate, aiming for the gaps in his enemy's armor. But his movements were too slow, too easy to predict. The Knight merely tilted his body slightly, letting Dimas's thrust sail through empty air, before striking Dimas's ribs with the flat of his sword. Dimas was flung aside, leaving a trail in the muddy ground.
Gasping for air, Dimas struggled to rise. But his opponent gave him no time. The Knight attacked again, his steps resolute, his sword gleaming under the dim light of the setting sun. A horizontal slash struck Dimas's shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Followed by a brutal kick to his stomach, sending pain crashing through his body.
Every movement Dimas made seemed like a shadow of despair; he tried to dodge, but the Elite Knight's blade was always faster. Dimas lifted his sword to defend, but each defense felt futile against the strength of his opponent. The sword slipped from his hand after a heavy blow to his wrist. His fingers went numb.
In an instant, the Knight kicked him again, this time to the jaw, sending Dimas tumbling backward. Blood poured from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the mud that stained his face.
The Knight stood over him, like a mountain of darkness about to collapse.
Laughing with a hoarse voice full of derision, the Knight spoke, "You yap too much like a street dog? No, even a street dog would be more honorable than you!"
Dimas, lying in the mud, could only groan. His vision blurred, but in the corner of his eye, he saw Anggi—helpless and unmoving. His heart screamed in defiance, unwilling to surrender.
As the Elite Knight took a step closer, his sword raised to end Dimas's life, Dimas's trembling hand reached for a fistful of mud. With every ounce of strength he had left, he hurled it at his opponent's face.
The mud splashed across the Knight's face, blinding him for a moment. The Knight growled, recoiling in rage, fury building in his voice. "How dare you use such a cheap trick, you little brat! I'll kill you!" he roared, his voice thundering like a storm cracking the sky.
Fury consumed him. With heavy steps, the Knight raised his sword high, swearing to cleave Dimas in half without mercy, to avenge the insult he'd suffered.
*****
On the other side of the battlefield, choked with dust and the cries of the wind, Indra fought like a wolf surrounded, never willing to yield. Two Elite Knights, clad in dark silver armor with the emblem of a raven on their chests, attacked from opposing sides—a deadly dance, coordinated with terrifying precision.
One knight lunged quickly toward his chest, while the other swung his sword from the side, aiming for Indra's neck. But Indra, with razor-sharp instincts, dropped to the ground, rolling through the muck, narrowly escaping death by a hair's breadth.
Leaping back to his feet with agility, Indra launched a counterattack. His sword moved like a silver serpent, thrusting toward one of the knights. His foe parried, but the pressure from Indra's strike was unyielding. The clang of steel on steel filled the air, sparks flying with every clash.
The two Elite Knights did not relent; they set a rhythm to their attacks, alternating between slashes and thrusts, intending to obliterate an ordinary opponent. But Indra was no ordinary foe. Every step was calculated, each movement a part of an ancient battle dance passed down through generations. The short-haired warrior displayed skills far beyond the level of his two former seniors.
One of the knights tried to stab from behind, but Indra spun with lightning speed, deflecting the attack with his arm guard, then retaliated with a hard kick to his foe's chest, sending him tumbling back several steps.
Seeing an opening, the second knight attacked with a horizontal slash, but Indra ducked beneath the deadly swing, then, with a spinning move, slashed at the knight's leg, tearing through his armor and drawing fresh blood. The knight screamed and fell to his knees.
With burning courage, Indra pressed forward. He struck the pommel of his sword into the helmet of the first knight, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling. In the blink of an eye, the two Elite Knights knelt before him, drained of strength, while Indra stood tall, his chest heaving, his sword dripping with blood and mud.
But the victory was short-lived.
From the darkness of the night, a fearsome figure stepped forward—Corporal Obrigis, the Senior of the Elite Knights, the Crusher of Hope. His dark violet armor cloaked his muscular form, and in his hands, he gripped a Greatsword, a massive blade almost the size of a man.
Obrigis struck without warning. His first blow forced Indra to leap aside, but even that movement could not entirely escape the wave of power that followed. The ground where his sword struck cracked open, leaving a gaping wound in the earth.
Indra tried to retaliate, thrusting his sword toward Obrigis's side, but it was like striking a wall. Obrigis blocked easily, then retaliated with a heavy swing that forced Indra to defend with both hands, his knees buckling under the weight of the strike.
In the next exchange, Indra relied on his speed to outmaneuver Obrigis's brute force. He spun, striking weak points, but every time he attacked, Obrigis retaliated with a blow that nearly shattered his sword. Each impact rattled Indra's bones, slowly breaking down his defenses.
Finally, a heavy blow struck Indra's sword, sending it flying from his grasp. He collapsed, his body sinking partially into the mud, blood streaming from his temple.
Obrigis approached, his face cold and merciless. He raised his Greatsword high, ready to end Indra's life with a single, brutal stroke.
But at that very moment, a loud shout pierced the air.
"Obrigis! Kelvin! Hold your swords!"
It was Captain Guffy's voice, loud as a battle trumpet. The cry caused the entire battlefield to fall silent for a moment, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Obrigis, his eyes blazing with fury, paused, holding his sword in the air, glaring at the source of the command, his body still trembling with unspent rage.
At the same time, Kelvin, who had been about to finish off Dimas, also halted his sword mid-air.
Heavy footsteps approached as Guffy made his way toward Indra's prone form. His face, filled with disappointment, grew darker with each step. He looked down at Indra, lying weakly with half-closed eyes, his body battered, and his breath coming in shallow gasps. A state that could not be undone, for Indra had gone too far beyond hope.
Guffy lowered his gaze, his voice low but filled with frustration. "You truly are an ungrateful brat. I regret ever bringing you into my unit."
With a sudden movement, Guffy raised his foot and kicked Indra's stomach with such force that his body was thrown backward, rolling through the wet earth. A tremendous pain seized Indra's body, but he could do nothing. He could only lie in silence, enduring the suffering.
Guffy continued, his voice thick with disappointment. "Honestly, you were one of the brightest recruits this year. I was impressed. I planned to continue shaping you, giving you tough missions, before promoting you to Corporal Two. But look at you now—so quick to bite the hand that fed you. Unbelievable!" Guffy stared at him for a moment, as though assessing him with a look of pure hatred. "You were nothing more than a failed project!"
With burning rage, Guffy lifted his sword, ready to end the life before him, to erase something he deemed a failure with his own hands. The blade gleamed sharply, prepared to cleave Indra's neck in a single swing.
But then, suddenly, amidst the stillness of the shattered battlefield, the sound of a flying arrow filled the air, echoing among the trees and ruins. The arrow came with deadly speed, but Guffy, with an almost imperceptible motion, sidestepped it with ease, only turning his body slightly, letting the arrow fly past him.
Yet what happened next could not be avoided.
The arrow landed in the mud near Guffy's foot, and a small bottle attached to it shattered. The liquid inside bubbled up, exploded with a thunderous roar, and emitted a blinding white light, as though descending from Rubiel itself, dazzling everyone in the field.
"Damn! What is that?" Guffy yelled.
"Shit! My eyes!"
"So bright!"
Everyone there was trapped in blindness. All eyes, including Guffy's, were instantly shut by the dazzling light. Their vision was lost in an instant, and the world became empty in the blink of an eye.
At that moment, the sound of hooves grew closer, entering the ears of all present. It was Shella and Erik, riding swiftly on horseback, racing with astonishing speed through the chaos of the battlefield, closing in on Dimas and Indra.
"Erik, I'm afraid this horse is going to rebel again!" Shella cried in panic, her hands trembling as she gripped the reins.
"As long as you hold it tightly, you'll be fine! Do as I taught you earlier!" Erik replied, expertly riding ahead of Shella, as though leading the way for the other horse to follow.
The arrow explosion had been the plan they devised when they saw the battle unfold before them. In a short time, they had combined Erik's archery skills with Shella's glowing potion, creating an effective diversion. Luckily, they managed to shut their eyes before the explosion occurred, minimizing the effect of the blinding light.
"Indra!!" Erik shouted as he rode closer.
Weak and helpless, Indra could only stretch out his hand, hoping to hold on. Erik, with skilled movements, pulled the dying body of Indra to safety, saving a life on the brink of being lost.
Meanwhile, Shella, her face full of panic and concern, quickly dismounted and rushed to Dimas. Dimas, bloodied and on the verge of unconsciousness, was guided by Shella toward Anggi, lying helpless on the ground. Dimas was on the verge of losing his strength, but he forced himself to carry Anggi. Fortunately, he collapsed onto the earth just as the arrow exploded, or else he too would have been temporarily blinded like the Elite Knights. Carefully, Shella helped them both mount her horse, starting their desperate escape in a fleeting moment of time.
Not far from them, Kelvin—one of the Elite Knights still standing despite the temporary blindness—approached slowly. His eyes were shut, and the blindness forced him to rely on his hearing to guide his steps. Every sound on the battlefield became his guide. As he walked toward Shella, he was met with her sudden cry.
"Kyaaa! Stay away! Shooo!" She screamed as she grabbed a random potion from her leather pouch.
Kelvin, unable to clearly see Shella's movements, quickly threw a foul-smelling bottle at him. The bottle shattered on Kelvin's nose, releasing a stench that overwhelmed the knight. Kelvin coughed violently, his face contorting in confusion and frustration. He screamed, like a madman, trying to find his opponent, but his steps grew erratic.
Realizing the chaos unfolding, Obrigis, who was behind them, approached with heavy steps. Though he relied on his hearing to detect his foe, he could accurately guess Shella's position. Sharpening his other senses and his instincts, he hurled his Greatsword toward Shella, hoping the massive blade would find its mark.
But the strike missed, the massive sword veering off to the side and crashing into the earth with a booming sound, leaving a deep crack in the muddy ground.
With Shella and Erik carrying Dimas and Indra, and Anggi still unconscious, they sped away quickly. Their horses left footprints in the muddy earth as they fled from the Elite Knights still standing where they had once been.