The White Bear camp lay shrouded in darkness, its tents silent but for scattered snores. Kael motioned toward faint lamplight bleeding through a northwest pavilion's canvas walls - the commander's quarters still active past midnight.
Finn's breath fogged in the chill as they crept closer. Voices carried through frozen air:
"Father, our scouts found nothing." Damien's silhouette shifted against lamplit fabric, addressing a broad-shouldered figure. "We should expand the search."
Marcus Whiteclaw's knuckles rapped woodgrain. "Take three squads at dawn. Sweep Mistwood thoroughly." The guildmaster's graveled voice held lethal calm. "No mistakes."
The revelation hung unspoken - this was no mere lieutenant's tent. Amelia's blade hovered half-drawn as Damien continued: "That Blue Rose mage... fifth-level at most, yet younger than me."
Marcus stilled. His son's rare admission of inferiority warranted attention. "Samuel's daughter ensnared him, no doubt." The older man's chuckle held no mirth. "Five thousand for their camp. Eight for Samuel or the boy's head."
Damien's bow creaked leather. "Before they strengthen."
"Rest now." Marcus extinguished the lantern. "We hunt at first light."
Darkness swallowed the pavilion, leaving only frost-cracked grass where three shadows melted into night.
Damien nodded and turned to leave when a surge of overwhelming killing intent suddenly washed over him. As a fifth-level warrior, his honed instincts saved his life - muscles tensing as he twisted sideways in a violent evasion.
"Not bad. More alert than expected." The ambusher Finn clicked his tongue, having intended to strike while the man's guard was down. But years of wilderness survival had ingrained relentless vigilance in Damien.
"Who are you?" The silver-haired warrior snapped into combat stance, fifth-level battle energy flaring around him as he locked onto Finn. Before the confrontation could escalate, Kael materialized in the tent with frost in his gaze. The failed ambush mattered little - chaos served their purpose.
Recognition flashed across Damien's face. "Father! The mage from Blue Rose!"
Marcus's eyes narrowed at Kael before relaxing with a sneer. "So Blue Rose sends two fifth-raters to die? Pathetic." The veteran warrior's contempt froze mid-sentence as another presence clamped down on him - a crushing sixth-level aura that prickled his skin with danger.
Amelia emerged like winter incarnate, her slender blade sheathed in glacial battle energy. The air thickened with cold so biting it seemed to crystallize in lungs.
"Sixth-level?!" Marcus's composure shattered. His roar shook the tent as he channeled battle energy into his shout, "INTRUDERS!" The alarm would bring reinforcements within moments. Though shaken, the clan leader bared teeth in a savage grin. "Fools! You had the advantage of surprise but threw it away!"
Amelia answered with a blade surge. Her sword energy howled forward, tearing through air like an avalanche. Marcus blocked with crossed arms, sixth-level battle energy flaring crimson as their powers collided. Though outwardly confident, cold dread seeped into his bones - this ice-eyed girl's strength defied both age and reason.
Pinned by Amelia's relentless assault, Marcus could only watch as Kael and Finn closed their trap around Damien. The silver-haired warrior's eyes darted between his two opponents - against dual fifth-level adversaries, survival meant buying time.
"Flame Demon's Hand!" Kael's incantation crackled through the air before Damien could blink. A massive claw of swirling fire materialized overhead, its sudden appearance defying all magical convention. The inferno crashed downward, obliterating tents and scorching earth as Damien threw himself sideways in desperation.
The warrior's heart hammered against his ribs - one heartbeat slower and he'd have been reduced to ash. Before he could regain footing, Finn blurred into motion. Starstep carried the red-haired warrior through space like falling comet, palm blazing with crimson energy.
*THOOM*
Damien's defensive aura shattered under the impact. He skidded backward, boots carving trenches in the soil, coppery blood flooding his mouth. Kael's staff already glowed with fresh hellfire.
"Again?!" The words tore from Damien's raw throat as another flaming talon descended. He rolled violently, searing winds blistering his back as the spell detonated. Blood sprayed from his lips as concussive magic battered his organs.
The thunder of approaching boots answered as dozens of mercenaries swarmed the area, steel glinting in firelight. Damien sagged against a comrade's shoulder, laughing through bloodied teeth. "Kill them! The mage first!"
Fifteen warriors interposed themselves between Kael and his prey, blades humming with activated battle energy. The mage's lips curled in contempt as Starstep carried him through their formation, staff trailing embers. Damien's shout turned shrill: "Block him! Don't let-"
Too late. Kael's magic pulsed like a second heartbeat, death's shadow falling across the wounded warrior once more.
"Flame Demon's Hand!" Undeterred, Kael activated Starstep while unleashing another fiery claw. The spell engulfed the fifteen mercenaries mid-charge, their panicked shouts dissolving into ash before reaching full volume. Flames roared skyward, painting horrified faces orange as charred bones crumbled to the ground.
Magic's true horror revealed itself - not in single combat, but in how effortlessly it harvested lives by the dozen. The surviving mercenaries froze, weapons trembling in sweat-slick palms.
Damien's face twisted with manic desperation. "Fools! Let him through and we all die!" His shriek shattered the paralysis. Dozens surged forward in a steel tide, battle cries rising to mask their terror.
Kael's staff traced ancient sigils. "Fiery Prison." The ground erupted in crimson lattices, flames weaving a cage that froze forty warriors mid-charge. Muscles locked, eyes bulging, they stood trapped in a nightmare tableau.
"What devilry is this?!" Damien strained against invisible bonds, fresh blood trickling from split lip. His healing factor meant nothing here - the magic held him like a fly in amber.
No chant preceded the final judgment. Kael merely pointed. The third Flame Demon's Hand materialized directly above Damien, its hellish glow illuminating every pore of his terrified face.
Impact.
A column of fire consumed the heir where he stood. Mercenaries watched dumbly as their commander's silhouette blackened, crumbled, dispersed on the superheated wind. No relics remained - not a belt buckle, not a tooth.
The prison flames winked out. Forty men collapsed gasping, their weapons clattering forgotten. None rose to fight. They simply stared at Kael with primal terror, understanding at last: this was no battle. This was extermination.