Chapter 121 - 120: Looters in the Storm

Chapter 121: Chapter 120: Looters in the Storm Ravenshade Outskirts - Late afternoon Dust and hoofbeats rolled in as a dozen mounted figures crested the ridge, the captains. hobgoblin warriors and kobold berserkers in mismatched armor atop sturdy boars, and a few on horseback, their elite squad finally arriving. Lumberling stepped forward to meet them, his cloak flaring behind him in the breeze. "Alright, listen up," he called out, voice clear and commanding. "You have one job today: grab anything valuable. Prioritize Knight Skill Manuals, then gold, heirlooms, ledgers, anything that looks worth hauling." A few soldiers let out excited whoops. "But," he added, holding up a finger, "always keep yourselves safe. Don’t wander off. Stick together. Let our elf friends handle the fighting. Consider this your front-row seat to a magic show." There were a few exchanged glances, anticipation in their eyes. Lumberling continued, "Once the battle starts, the neighboring territory’s bound to notice. If the Empire’s Knights catch sight of the mages, they’ll respond fast. So move quick, grab what you can, and pull back early. Got it?" "Hehe... already assuming the Earl’s dead, are we?" Skitz grinned, flicking his dagger between fingers. "Bit hasty, don’t you think? The man might have a few strong Knights hiding up his silk sleeves." "If he did, he’d have sent them to burn our village down months ago," Lumberling replied coolly. "Even if he has them now... they won’t stand a chance." Skitz raised a brow. "You’re that confident in our odds?" "Yes," Lumberling said. His gaze drifted toward the elves. He still remembered Vaenyra’s aura, cold, commanding, barely restrained. It wasn’t just strength; it was pedigree, purpose. Something in her presence unsettled him, even now. And there was something else. A question he’d been holding back, burning at the edge of his thoughts, but he swallowed it, keeping it buried for now. "Look at him," Gobo2 piped up, cutting into Lumberling’s thoughts. "Boss is already backing his harem. Don’t question them, Skitz." "I support them too," Gobo1 added proudly. "I believe in beauty-based combat potential." Lumberling glanced at the two goblins and let out a soft chuckle. "They’re not people I can afford to touch. Just from their grace and bearing alone, I’d wager they’re nobles, high-ranking ones with serious rank in their empire. They’ve tolerated us because of Sylra, but let’s not assume that makes us equals." "My Lord, don’t tell me... are you chickening out?" Aren said with a lopsided grin. "I thought you had high standards." Lumberling smiled faintly, brushing off the jab with a shrug. "Enough of that. Focus on the mission," he said, voice light but final, shutting the door before they pushed the joke any further. The group chuckled, but quickly began readying their packs and gear. ... Earl Cedric’s Estate Smoke curled from the distance - thin at first, like a trail of incense, then thickened into roiling clouds above the Earl’s estate. From the hilltop, Lumberling crouched beside Skitz and Aren, their eyes locked on the unfolding chaos in the valley below. The estate, once a pristine symbol of excess and cruelty, now groaned under a storm of raw magic. Walls cracked. Windows burst. The earth itself buckled as the assault intensified. Blinding bursts of flame erupted from unseen hands, each one blooming midair before crashing down like judgment. Whips of silver wind spiraled through the ranks of guards, flinging armored men like broken dolls. Then came the thunder: bolts of violet energy streaked across the battlefield, leaping from elf to elf with impossible precision, leaving only scorched corpses in their wake. ) "What in the abyss..." Aren muttered, gripping his spear tighter. "They’re... mages," Lumberling said, his voice low and tight with awe. He had crushed knights before. Killed them with skill or sheer brute force. But this? This was on another scale. From their perch, they watched men die by the hundred. A swirling gale sliced through a squad of armored soldiers like parchment. Fireballs exploded along the courtyard walls, turning stone to slag and men to ash. Arcs of violet light danced like lightning, precise, unforgiving, and beautiful. Lumberling swallowed. Hard. "Each one of their spells... it’s as strong as Jason’s final strike." "And they’re just warming up," Skitz added, eyes narrowing. ..... Within the panicked compound, soldiers fled in all directions. Knights screamed orders, some forming defensive lines, most failing to keep formation. The eastern gate was gone, blasted into molten fragments. The barracks burned, the stables gone up in smoke. A lone trumpet call blared, shrill and desperate. "WHERE IS HENRY?!" a voice shrieked. At the mansion’s central hall, Earl Cedric, robed in finery, eyes wide with disbelief, stormed into the vault chamber with trembling hands. Behind him, a dozen men struggled to drag chests of coin, silks, and family heirlooms. Cedric turned, seething. "You say mages?! How did they get here? We’re far from the damn border!" Henry, a grizzled Knight Two Stage, burst into the chamber, face pale. "My Lord, we must flee! They’re not ordinary battlemages. These are war-trained elves. High-casters." But before they could make it to the secret passage, the air shimmered. Three figures stepped through the smoke. Vaenyra stood at the center, blue hair lashing in the wind, her emerald eyes lit by fury. On her left, Aurelya raised her staff, its crystal glowing like a miniature sun. To her right, Thessalia’s eyes burned cold blue, wind swirling around her bare feet. Earl Cedric stepped back instinctively, dropping a small chest. "No... wait, wait! We can negotiate!" But the elves said nothing. Thessalia raised a single hand. With a flick of her wrist, a lance of wind blew past Henry, splitting the air with a shriek. He managed to deflect it, barely, his armor scorched by the friction. ... Meanwhile, Aren and the other captains moved fast, slipping past fallen knights and looting what they could: silver goblets, ceremonial armor, coin purses, trinkets. Horses were claimed. Weapons gathered. The battlefield was chaos, but beneath it, discipline. "Grab fast, move fast," Aren called. "We’ve got ten minutes before those hurricanes get bored and blow this whole place off the map!" ... Three silhouettes floated down from the scorched sky, graceful as feathers. They landed between Cedric and the main gate, blocking his escape. Vaenyra stood at the front, eyes glowing faintly with residual arcane energy. Aurelya and Thessalia flanked her like silver-haired sentinels. Their expressions were unreadable. Earl Cedric froze, heart racing. "You... You dare attack me in my own territory?! I am a noble of the empire!" Vaenyra’s lips curled, amused. "Then consider this... noble correction." Henry stepped forward, armor clanking, a greatsword drawn. The weight of a Knight Two’s aura pulsed outward like a storm front, making nearby soldiers stagger. "Fall back, my lord. I’ll handle this." He narrowed his eyes at Vaenyra. "You may be a mage, but once I close the gap..." But Vaenyra raised her hand, not to cast, but to halt her companions. "Aurelya. Thessalia. Don’t interfere," she said calmly, stepping forward. From their vantage point, Lumberling’s eyes widened. "Wait... she’s going in alone?" Skitz leaned forward. "You sure she’s not just being dramatic?" Then the fight began. Henry charged, his sword igniting with battle aura and mana. He roared, bringing the blade down with the strength of a seasoned knight. Vaenyra met the blow with a blade of her own. No arcane flares. No grand spells. Just steel. The clash rang like a bell across the grounds. Henry’s expression shifted from confidence, to confusion, to dread. She danced around him with fluid ease, her footwork precise, her strikes impossibly fast. Within seconds, she disarmed him, then knocked him to the ground with a final sweep of her leg. Henry gasped, winded, blade spinning across the courtyard. Vaenyra stood over him, sword pointed at his throat. "You talk too much," she said. Lumberling swallowed a mouthful of saliva. "What the hell... she’s not just a mage, she’s a Knight!" Skitz let out a low whistle. "Well, good thing we’re on their side, yeah?" Lumberling didn’t answer. His fists had clenched without realizing. ’This... how did they do it?’ Meanwhile, Aren was already moving through the chaos, hauling out a chest of gold from the burning manor like it was just another day at the office. "Don’t mind me," he muttered, slipping past soldiers too stunned to fight. "Just picking up after the gods." ... Minutes later. The fires had died down, but the air still shimmered with heat. The mansion was in ruins, its once-proud towers reduced to scorched stone and ash. All that remained now were the final echoes of screams and the smell of smoke, blood, and charred silk. From the wreckage, Earl Cedric and his last remaining retainers were dragged out by elven soldiers, bloody, battered, and broken. His once-ornate robes were tattered, half burnt away. He coughed, blood running down the corners of his lips as he was thrown to his knees before Vaenyra. "Please..." the Earl gasped, his voice cracking, panic wild in his eyes. "I... I didn’t know! I just bought the slaves, I didn’t torture her! It was the merchants! Those bastards lied, I didn’t know!" Vaenyra didn’t speak. She stepped forward slowly. Her blue hair drifted in the breeze, untouched by soot. Her emerald eyes, cold and unreadable, bore into his. "You tortured her," she said softly. No fury in her voice. Just quiet truth. She raised a hand and placed it gently on his chest. The Earl twitched. And then he screamed. Flames erupted inside him, not explosively, but like molten steel poured through his veins. His skin blackened, cracked, and peeled as the fire devoured him from within. It was slow. Agonizing. His shrieks clawed at the sky until his throat gave out, and he collapsed in a smoking heap. The elves watched with cold, glassy expressions. No one looked away. Minutes passed. Then... Whshk! The Earl’s head fell from his shoulders. Vaenyra blinked. Lumberling stood there, sword already re-sheathed. His eyes were calm, but there was a subtle tension in his jaw. "I don’t mean to spoil your fun," he said matter-of-factly, "but we’ve stayed too long. The golden eagles spotted movement, Pentaline troops are closing in on this territory. If we linger, we’ll be caught between hammer and anvil." Vaenyra stared at him for a heartbeat longer, her expression unreadable. Then she exhaled. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased. The fire in her eyes dimmed, not gone, but leashed. She turned to her companions. "We’re leaving," she ordered. "Now." Aurelya and Thessalia silently moved to her side, their arcane energy fading like mist. The remaining elves dispersed into the shadows of the forest, swift and quiet. Lumberling watched them go. His gaze lingering on the scorched ground where the Earl’s body smoldered. ’This... is the wrath of elves.’ ..... The smoke still hung thick in the air as they slipped into the treeline, the moon casting a silver sheen over the scorched ruins behind them. One of the elf warriors, slender, sharp-eyed, stepped closer to Vaenyra, her voice low and tense. "Your Grace," she murmured, "we’ll be tracked harder now. The traces we left... they’ll know it was mages. The Emperor’s already furious over the cities we razed and the Lords we slaughtered. This..." she swept her gaze over the distant embers, "...will drive them into a frenzy. They’ll send stronger Knights. Knight Legions, maybe." Vaenyra didn’t respond right away. She stood in quiet thought, the embers of vengeance still glowing behind her eyes. Their mission was done, their revenge delivered, but the cost was clear. The estate lay in ruins, and the scent of spellfire hung thick in the air. Returning now would be dangerous. They’d stirred the hornet’s nest, and the Pentaline Empire would soon come swarming. For now, they needed to vanish. Let the storm pass. Let the hounds lose the scent. Then, slowly, she turned toward the one among them who wasn’t an elf. Lumberling. He was walking a few steps behind, casually brushing soot from his cloak. But when he noticed her gaze on him, he blinked. "You heard her," she said, voice calm. "Heard what?" Lumberling asked, suddenly aware that all the elves were watching him now. ’Why the hell is she looking at me like that?’ he thought. She just stared at him. Lumberling’s brows furrowed. And then it hit him. "Oh," he muttered. They needed to vanish. Disappear. Somewhere the Empire wouldn’t think to look. Somewhere beneath the notice of knight squadrons. He sighed inwardly and offered a wry half-smile. "If you want..." he said, "you can lay low in our goblin village for now. Deep in the forest. No cities. No nobles. The Empire doesn’t even know it exists." Vaenyra held his gaze, then allowed herself a faint smile. "I’ll take you up on that." And so, as dawn painted the horizon in blood-red hues, the small group of elves left the ruins behind and began their journey back to the goblin village.