Chapter 114: The Clash of Fate

  The Grand Duke’s procession moved like a disciplined tide through the narrow forest pass, banners fluttering against the wind. Knights rode with trained posture, their polished armor glinting under the midday sun. Mages, robed in the colors of their rank, walked alongside the slow-moving carriages, their eyes ever watchful.

  Inside the grandest carriage, Grand Duke Reinhardt observed the outside world through a narrow slit in the curtain. His gaze was calm, but his mind was calculating. Across from him sat his son, Leonard, a boy with pale features and nervous fingers gripping the edge of his seat. His violet eyes darted around the enclosed space, his body tense.

  "Something feels... strange," Leonard whispered.

  Reinhardt turned his gaze toward his son but said nothing. His senses had already warned him that something was amiss.

  Then, the attack came.

  The first sign was the shadows shifting unnaturally. Knights on horseback barely had time to react before black tendrils lashed out from the forest’s depths, pulling one of them clean off his saddle. A strangled scream echoed as the man was swallowed by the darkness.

  Ren had moved first. Emerging from the gloom of the trees, his small frame was barely visible, save for the unsettling gleam of his black irises. He weaved between the charging knights, his form flickering like an illusion. A dagger—carved from condensed shadow—slashed through the tendons of a knight’s leg, sending him crumbling to the ground with a choked cry.

  To the side, Aislin erupted into the fray. The glowing blue markings on her skin pulsed like living energy. With a single leap, she closed the distance between herself and an approaching guard, her enhanced strength turning her into a blur. Her palm struck the man’s chest with enough force to shatter bone, sending him flying backward into two more guards. They collapsed in a heap, groaning in pain.

  Yet, the knights were not untrained. The moment the surprise attack lost momentum, they regrouped.

  “Defensive formation!” a knight captain bellowed, and within seconds, shields locked together, spears bristling outward. The children’s advantage of surprise was beginning to wane.

  Aislin dashed forward again, intending to break the line—but before she could strike, a knight pivoted smoothly and slammed his shield into her, sending her skidding back. Another knight followed with a downward slash. She barely twisted away in time, her markings flaring to absorb some of the impact, but she gritted her teeth. These knights were experienced.

  Silas, the Hollow One, strode forward without a sound. His presence felt like an abyss, draining the very space around him. A mage cast a fire spell in his direction, but the flames simply fizzled out upon nearing him, as if consumed by an unseen force. The mage hesitated—just for a moment—but that was all Silas needed. A hand shot forward, gripping the mage’s wrist with unnatural strength. The man gasped, his energy being drained, his face twisting in agony.

  Elsewhere, Nyla spread her arms. The temperature around her plummeted, frost creeping along the ground. A knight’s blade clashed against her frozen skin, but it failed to cut deep, as ice formed over the wound almost instantly. With a flick of her fingers, jagged icicles erupted from the earth, forcing the knights to scatter.

  Lira, the Emotion Mage, trembled at the chaos surrounding her. Her violet eyes were wide, her mana fluctuating wildly. Anger, fear, determination—each emotion caused her magic to shift unpredictably. A blast of raw energy erupted from her hands, sending a group of guards flying back, yet she had no control over the devastation. Tears welled in her eyes. She wasn’t ready.

  Dain stood like an immovable object. A sword struck his forearm, only to snap against his unnatural bones. With a grunt, he swung his fist like a hammer, sending an armored foe crashing into a tree, denting his breastplate.

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  Joren bled deliberately. His amber eyes glowed as he shaped his own crimson liquid into razor-sharp needles, launching them with deadly precision. A knight screamed as the projectiles pierced his exposed joints.

  The battle escalated. Despite their power, the children lacked coordination. The knights and mages countered with trained efficiency. For every attack the children launched, the opposition adapted, striking with calculated precision.

  Mira’s gaze flickered, seeing glimpses of the near future. She dodged an unseen arrow before it was fired, her instincts heightened by brief flashes of what was to come. But she couldn’t keep up with everything.

  Theo, the Gravity-Touched, strained as he lifted a section of earth, flipping over a line of guards. Yet, his control wavered under stress. A counterspell from a Master Mage shattered his focus, sending him tumbling backward.

  Inside the carriage, Grand Duke Reinhardt finally spoke. “Leonard, watch carefully. This is how the world works.”

  Leonard’s hands clenched. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

  A lone figure, draped in a robe that concealed every detail, stood at the edge of the battlefield. Unlike the others, they did not fight. They observed, as if searching for something amidst the chaos.

  The battle raged on, a clash between raw, untamed talent and honed, disciplined skill.

  The outcome remained uncertain, balanced on the edge of a blade.

  Lira, overwhelmed by the chaos unfolding around her, couldn’t shake off Antru’s chilling words before the battle began. The memory played vividly in her mind—the way he had gathered them, his voice cold and unyielding, his presence suffocating.

  “You must prove yourselves,” Antru had said, his gaze sweeping over the children like a predator assessing prey. “Kill every last one of the human intruders. Show your worth.”

  A heavy silence followed his command. The weight of expectation pressed against them like a vice. Some of the children shifted uncomfortably, their expressions conflicted.

  Aislin frowned, her golden eyes flickering with uncertainty. She clenched her fists as if trying to hold onto her own wavering resolve. “Do we really have to kill them all?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm. “Some of them might not even want to fight.”

  Lira stole a glance at Aislin, feeling a small, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, they could avoid what was being demanded of them. But deep down, she already knew the answer.

  Elen, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself, shifted nervously. “They're just following orders,” she murmured, gripping the edge of her tunic. “Just like we are.”

  Cassis tapped his fingers against his arm, his usual rhythm broken by hesitation. His dark brown eyes flickered between the others before he let out a slow breath. “There has to be another way…”

  Antru’s eerie gaze settled on them then, unblinking, unreadable. The shadows around him seemed to stretch unnaturally, as if they, too, hung on his words.

  Then, in a voice as smooth as ice, he asked:

  “If you cannot even do this… why should we keep you here?”

  Lira’s breath hitched. The weight of his words sank deep into their bones. It wasn’t a direct threat—but they understood. If they failed, if they hesitated, their place here would be forfeit. And in this world, weakness had no place.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs as she looked at the others, trying to gauge their reactions. Ren's face remained unreadable, but his fingers twitched near the shadows at his feet. Dain clenched his jaw, his usually dull silver eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite name. Mira, usually quiet, was staring at the ground, her white hair falling over her face, hiding whatever emotion she might be feeling.

  Without another word, Antru melted into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never been there.

  The children stood in silence for a moment, the air between them heavy and suffocating.

  “We have no choice,” Joren finally muttered, his amber eyes glowing faintly. “If we don’t fight, we won’t survive.”

  Lira swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to scream, to run, to fight against the situation that had forced them into this reality. But what could she do? They had been given an ultimatum.

  Nyla wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly despite the warm air. “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “This isn’t what we were meant to do.”

  Theo, usually quiet and slow to speak, finally exhaled sharply. “It doesn’t matter what we like. If we don’t do this, we’ll be seen as weak. And the weak don’t last.” His heavy footsteps echoed as he shifted his stance.

  Lira knew he was right. No more time to doubt. No more room for fear.

  She took a deep breath, forcing the shaking in her hands to still. She had to focus. She had to fight.

  The children exchanged uneasy glances.

  Their decision was made.

  With renewed resolve, they turned toward the intruders and launched their attack.