Thornton

  "What the hell was that?" My heart is racing in my chest. Everyone seems to be in one piece, no one's injured, but I can't shake the feeling of being caught in a nightmare. Was that an explosion? Why are we still standing? Did that kill us? My mind spins, the adrenaline clouding my thoughts.

  Through the haze, I hear the bandit speak, his voice cutting through the confusion.

  "My name is Oz. Member of the Scor." His voice drips with arrogance. "If you're wondering what you just witnessed, that was me releasing about eighty percent of my mana. I figured you pests wouldn't leave, so I decided to make this fight a little more challenging for myself."

  "Bold son of a bitch," Aszhuak barks, his voice low and filled with anger, but there's a tremor in it. I can sense his hesitation.

  Without warning, Oz moves with blinding speed. He crosses the distance between them in a heartbeat, driving his knee into Aszhuak's gut. The sound of it—the sickening crunch of bone and flesh—makes me cringe. Aszhuak spits out blood with a faint grunt, crumpling slightly from the blow.

  "You speak when I am done, do you understand, boy?" Oz snarls, his voice like gravel. His eyes flash with menace. With a swift motion, he kicks Aszhuak into the side of the cabin wall, sending him crashing into it with a sickening thud.

  "Now, where was I?" He licks his lips, his grin widening as he turns his gaze back to us. "Ah, yes. Since you children will be dead soon, I'll entertain you for a bit. Once I find the mask, I'll resurrect the Scor clan and take over the land, starting with the Belfour Kingdom."

  My heart skips a beat. The Belfour Kingdom? The words hit harder than I expected. I glance over at Hue, whose expression has darkened. His jaw is clenched so tightly I fear his teeth will break. I don't need to ask; I already know this means something personal for him. The words echo in my mind, "My name is my name and Scor is my claim." This is the second Scor member we've encountered, and he seems just as dangerous, if not more.

  "You think I'll let you take control of my father's kingdom?" Hue barks, his voice laced with fury. His eyes are like fire, and I can almost feel the heat coming off him.

  Oz lets out a sinister chuckle. "Ahhh, I see. You're the king's son! And we have the little orphaned Liche boy here too, right?" His words are like daggers, twisting in the air. "I'll have fun killing the lot of you."

  With that, Oz charges at Hue, his sword drawn and gleaming in the rain-soaked air. Hue doesn't hesitate. He draws his own weapon and moves to defend himself, but before he can land a blow, Oz's speed is overwhelming. The clash of metal rings in my ears as Aszhuak rushes to Hue's side, his ball of light glowing brightly in his hand.

  But Oz doesn't give them a moment to breathe. He knocks both of them back with a powerful double kick, sending them sprawling. I grit my teeth, my hand tightening around my sword. I want to help, but I don't want to get in Emberes' way. He's been our leader for a reason.

  Hue, ever determined, throws a dagger with deadly precision. The blade grazes Oz's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

  "Good one, boy," Oz laughs darkly, wiping the blood away and licking it from his fingers. His eyes are glowing with malice as he prepares for the next attack.

  Aszhuak, unfazed, launches another ball of light at Oz. But this time, Oz is ready. He catches it mid-air and throws it with terrifying strength, sending it soaring through the treetops. The shards explode outward, splintering the air like the sun breaking through a storm.

  Aszhuak doesn't hesitate. He waves his arm and redirects the shards down toward Oz. In the split second of distraction, Hue lunges at Oz, swinging his sword in a wide arc. But Oz is faster, far too fast. He snatches Hue's sword from his hand and slashes it through the shards with an almost lazy motion. In the blink of an eye, Oz grabs the sword by the blade and smacks the hilt into Hue's face, sending him crashing backward.

  Blood drips from Hue's nose, and his left eye begins to swell, turning a dark shade of purple. I can feel the anger boiling within me, but I know I can't act rashly. The moment is slipping through my fingers.

  "You two aren't making this any fun," Oz sneers, his voice dripping with disdain.

  "How about this—come attack me now," he taunts, his hands behind his back as he waits for them to charge.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I can see the hesitation in Aszhuak and Hue. They're struggling to stay on their feet, battered and broken. They're giving everything they have, but it's still not enough.

  "Stop!" Emberes yells, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

  "I'll take over from here."

  "And just what do you think you'll do, boy?" Oz laughs, an air of amusement in his tone.

  Emberes cracks his neck, a look of cold determination settling over his face. He steps forward, his movements slow but purposeful. "I don't talk much," he says, "I'll show you."

  Before Oz can react, Emberes throws a punch at him, landing squarely in his gut. For a moment, Oz's confident smirk falters, a brief flicker of pain flashing in his eyes. Emberes steps back, his voice icy. "I suggest you use both of your hands to fight me."

  Oz's grin returns, more feral than before. He quickly draws his weapon, clearly relishing the challenge.

  "That's better than those two weaklings," he sneers.

  Emberes steps into the fight with a fluidity that I can't help but admire. He takes a swing at Oz, landing a powerful blow to his jaw that sends Oz skidding across the mud, but Oz doesn't stay down. He's too dangerous, too ruthless. Emberes doesn't give him time to recover. He charges again, his fists like blinding fire, but Oz is equally as fast, parrying and dodging with the speed of a predator.

  They fight like animals, each blow louder than the last. I can't look away. It's terrifying to watch, yet mesmerizing. Emberes ducks and weaves, dodging Oz's slashes, and then with a burst of heat, he conjures a fireball and throws it at Oz.

  Oz dodges, but as he does, he throws a conjured spear, its sharp point glinting in the air as it flies toward Emberes. But Emberes doesn't flinch. With a snap of his hands, he pulls them apart, creating a line of flame that burns through the spear before it can touch him.

  In that moment, I think—We have a chance. But Oz isn't finished. He lunges at Emberes, sliding through the mud and kicking him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Emberes stumbles but catches himself. The fight is far from over, but I can feel my resolve crumbling. What can we do? How can we stop him?

  The conjured spear strikes Emberes, slamming into his chest. Everything goes still. My heart stops in my chest, and panic sets in. Did we lose him? Did we just lose our only hope?

  I should've acted sooner. I should have helped. My breath comes in short gasps. I can't let him die. I can't let everyone die.

  "Did you think that weak-ass blow was going to pierce through my flame aura?" Emberes' voice cuts through my thoughts, laced with arrogance. He's standing tall, the spear melting away in his chest as if it were nothing more than paper. "You were better off trying to kill me with your actual weapon. For years, I've trained my aura to repel any type of magical weapon or spell. Surprised you didn't notice?"

  His eyes glow with the intensity of flames, and suddenly, I understand just how powerful he is. The front part of the spear is now a glowing ember. He stands over Oz, towering with an overwhelming presence.

  "Wha... What are you?" Oz stammers, his confidence slipping for the first time.

  "I'm the flame of the Canu," Emberes declares, his voice unwavering. His hand latches onto Oz's face, and without a second thought, he lifts him into the air, releasing a blast of searing heat from his palm. The air around us seems to warp as Oz's face burns, his screams echoing through the forest.

  Oz stumbles backward, his body smoking and singed. "NOOOOOOO! You will regret this!" he screams in agony. His face is badly burned, the once confident sneer replaced with a look of pure terror. He staggers to his feet, pushing everyone back with a surge of energy, and then—he vanishes.

  In an instant, the world is silent. The storm has dissipated, the rain no longer falling. Emberes stands alone, the only one still on his feet, his chest rising and falling as he regains his breath.

  "Sorry for worrying you, Thornton," Emberes says, a grin spreading across his face. "But that guy was a total dickhead. Had to humiliate him a little."

  I let out a shaky breath. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, but I'm just relieved we're alive.

  Hue, blood still dripping from his nose, tosses Emberes a medallion. It gleams in the sunlight that finally breaks through the canopy.

  "What's this?" Emberes asks, examining the emblem engraved into the medallion.

  "It's for you to come to the Belfour Kingdom and join the G-" Aszhuak begins, but Hue cuts him off.

  "Just bring it to the Belfour Kingdom. You'll know what to do from there," Hue says, his voice still heavy with emotion.

  Emberes rubs the medallion thoughtfully, its gold reflecting the faint light as if acknowledging his new responsibility.

  "Thank you. Now let's get back to the girls," Emberes says, his tone serious once again. "Oz could still be out here. Once we get to them, we'll report back to the Canu and the Kingdom to get this area secured and look for the mask."

  "Why don't we just look for it?" I ask, frustration bubbling in my chest.

  "It's not our job," Emberes responds, his voice hardening. He pauses, looking at each of us, his expression serious. "This mission has escalated far beyond what we were prepared for. If I weren't here, I'm sure the five of you would be dead by now." His words cut through the air like a blade, the gravity of the situation sinking in deeper. There's no arrogance in his voice, only the cold truth of the danger we're in.

  I feel the weight of his statement pressing on me. We're out of our depth, and he's the only reason we're still breathing.

  Hue nods, wiping blood from his face, his movements stiff with pain. "I agree," he says, his voice strained but resolute. "I'll talk to my father about letting us revisit this site with reinforcements. We need to prepare properly, or we'll never survive the next round with people like Oz." There's a fire in his voice, tempered with the clear understanding that we're in over our heads. We can't afford to be reckless anymore.

  I can feel the tension in the air, the burden of responsibility heavy on all of us. It's not just about the mask anymore—it's about survival.