Damien's incineration unfolded before the entire mercenary band, flames reducing their young commander to drifting ash despite dozens of would-be protectors. The mercenaries recoiled as one, terror freezing their battle cries - here stood death incarnate, a living siege engine clad in scholar's robes.
Marcus's roar shook the battlefield. Amelia's glacial blade carved through his guard as the clan leader abandoned defense, sixth-level battle energy erupting in crimson torrents. "Your life ends today!" The oath tore from blood-flecked lips as he lunged at Kael with piston-driven punch, air screaming around his fist.
Kael's Starstep carried him sideways in blurred afterimage. Marcus's strike cratered the earth where he'd stood, upturned soil raining down like shrapnel. The mage's calm fractured momentarily - that impact would've pulped bones to marrow slurry.
"Wretched insect!" Marcus whirled, murderous intent radiating like furnace heat. Before he could strike again, winter descended.
Amelia's blade became winter incarnate. "Falcon Strike." Her thrust birthed a crystalline raptor, twenty icy talons extending from the sword tip. The construct shrieked through Marcus's guard, frost blooming across his armor. Sixth-level against sixth-level, the clash detonated shockwaves that flattened nearby tents.
Kael seized the opening. Starstep carried him behind Amelia's assault, staff already tracing containment runes. Twin threats forced Marcus into desperate parries, his earlier rage cooling into tactical dread - these youths moved like veteran killers, their coordination flawless.
The remaining mercenators edged backward, weapons lowering. None dared intervene in this dance of titans. Damien's charred shadow still haunted their retinas, a smoking testament to magic's merciless calculus.
"Advanced battle art?!" Marcus's scalp prickled - this ice-eyed girl couldn't be twenty, yet wielded techniques masters spent decades perfecting. His counter came instinctive, decades of battlefield survival overriding shock. "Serpent's Bite!" Crimson energy coiled like a viper's strike, fanged jaws snapping at Amelia's crystalline falcon.
Predator clashed with predator. The falcon's talons shredded serpentine energy, frost and fire exploding in prismatic shards. Amelia danced through falling debris using Starstep's liquid grace, while Marcus took the brunt standing. A metallic tang flooded his mouth as internal injuries bloomed.
The White Bear leader staggered, pride warring with survival instinct. How dare these whelps corner him! His glare promised slow evisceration, but Amelia's renewed assault forced defensive stances. "Hold the mercenaries!" Her order sliced through combat din as fresh waves of enemies crashed toward Kael.
The mage nodded, staff already weaving. "Fiery Prison." Crimson magic coalesced at his staff's tip, then erupted across twenty charging warriors. Flames licked upward in perfect cylindrical containment, roasting flesh smells mingling with terrified screams. Trapped men strained against invisible bonds, eyes rolling white like panicked stallions.
Finn moved through the paralyzed ranks like harvest scythe. Each thrust of his crimson-gauntleted fists collapsed windpipes, shattered ribs. Between Kael's area denial and Finn's precision kills, the mercenary tide broke against them like waves against cliffside.
Marcus's snarl carried across the slaughter. "You'll all die screaming for this!" The threat rang hollow as Amelia's glacial blade notched his armor again, frost creeping through the rent. Survival, not vengeance, became his new mantra - but escape routes vanished under Kael's strategic flame walls and Amelia's unrelenting pressure.
Finn blurred into motion, crimson greatsword leaving afterimages as he tore through Kael's latest Fiery Prison victims. Twenty mercenaries collapsed simultaneously, throats pierced by flame-wreathed blade projections before their paralyzed screams could form.
The mage's battlefield control proved absolute. Each crimson containment circle birthed slaughterhouse efficiency - men transformed into statues awaiting Finn's executioner blade.
Survivors charged with desperate fury. "Kill the spellcaster!" roared a grizzled veteran, leading thirty warriors in suicidal rush. Finn intercepted them like breaker against tide, greatsword shearing through three attackers mid-leap.
Kael's staff traced defensive sigils even as Starstep carried him backward. "Fiery Prison." Another containment ring immobilized frontrunners, their trapped forms becoming human shields against following waves. Flames roared upward as Earthflame Staff conjured rotating barrier - part pyric shield, part intimidation display.
"Regroup! Flanking formation!" The veteran's order came too late. Finn's blade carved through their attempted pincer movement, crimson energy bisecting a two-handed axe mid-swing. Kael's retreat became strategic repositioning, luring clusters into fresh containment traps.
Mercenaries learned terror anew. Charge met immolation. Flanking met dismemberment. Each step toward the mage invited fiery entombment, each retreat earned Finn's cleaving pursuit. The duo moved as symbiotic force - Kael's crimson webs ensnaring prey for Finn's crimson reaping.
Yet numbers told. Thirty became twenty, then twelve, then five. The veterans' initial fury cooled into grim acceptance - no tactic could breach this deadly symbiosis. Their final charge carried no battle cries, only resigned silence before inevitable conflagration.
Finn's blade carved through another cluster of immobilized mercenaries, crimson energy leaving cauterized wounds where heads should be. "Where's our backup?!" he growled, sweat stinging his eyes. Even fifth-level stamina had limits against endless waves.
Chaos erupted beyond the flaming tents. "Blue Rose ambush!" The panicked cry spread like wildfire through White Bear ranks. Samuel's battle roar cut through the din as fifty azure-clad warriors flooded the camp. "Lay down arms and live!" The veteran commander's promise carried weight - dozens of mercenaries dropped swords with clatter.
Marcus's howl of rage drowned even explosions. Amelia's glacial edge bit deep into his shoulder as he deliberately tanked the injury, using the momentum to rocket toward Kael. Sixth-level battle energy condensed around his fist like bloodstained comet.
The mage stood motionless, lips moving in silent incantation. Marcus's killing strike connected with empty air as space itself warped - Kael reappeared twenty paces away, staff glowing faintly from expended magic.
"Seventh-tier spell?!" Marcus's blood ran cold. The miscalculation crystallized instantly - no fifth-level should command spatial magic. Survival instinct overrode vengeance. Battle-hardened legs propelled him backward in retreat, every step churning earth to mud under enhanced speed.
Amelia's winter blade barred his path. Kael's staff flared anew, containment runes taking shape. Escape vectors collapsed like folding paper - left flank swarmed by Blue Rose veterans, right blocked by Finn's crimson greatsword. The White Bear leader stood encircled, realization dawning: predators had become prey.
But escape proved impossible. Amelia's glacial aura thickened the air as Kael's containment magic solidified. The hunters closed their trap with lethal precision.