The bandits charged, their shouts tearing through the twilight.
Then Valdrak appeared from the forest's shadows—a white flash of rage and power. He bellowed, deafening the night, and cast himself into the bandits; his claws sliced through them like straw. Blood arcs followed him as he morphed into a living windstorm of white and red.
Mira gaped at the sight of him. "The tiger…," she said breathlessly, but she released the initial shock and turned to Telmar.
Telmar met her attack with his own, exchanging blows as weapons clashed with iron vigor.
In the square, Thalanar struck a bandit down with his staff, and continued on to the weakest group—their frightened women clutching children, their old men with act, and their outdated tools. "Stay behind me," he commanded with iron. "We are your shield."
Elsewhere, Dion staggered backward as a bandit's club smashed into his shoulder. He collapsed in the dirt, agony exploding through his arm.
A second blow never materialized.
Lyssari was there, her small blade flashing as she knocked aside the blow from the bandit. Her green eyes blazed as she stood between Dion and the threat.
"Get up," she cried. "This is your home as well."
On the edge of the square, Arwin had felled another bandit and was breathing a bit hard. He turned to look back at the hut, at the closed door where Luenor was working.
Inside the hut, Luenor gasped as he felt another surge of mana fill his body, every breath was a struggle. His skin glowed faintly blue, the light splitting into cracks and webbing up his arms.
Eldarin's voice was even as he worked, feeling for the remaining broken channels in Hunter's body using his own mana. "Almost there," he said, "You're doing well, just hold on a little longer." Luenor's eyes fluttered. His muscles were trembling, droplets of sweat tricking down from his chin. "I...I don't know how much more I can take, how much longer."
"You will," Eldarin said firmly, "You must."
Outside, the forest roared with the sounds of steel and death. The bandits pressed in from all sides, but the elves and the villagers answered them with fire and fury.
___
Inside Rhea's hut, there was a palpable tension in the air while Eldarin's hands worked furiously. He bound the last of the mana veins that resided in Hunter's body and with a quiet set of ancient elven words he sealed them.
"It's done," he said, breath quaking. "He will live... if we can fix the rest."
Luenor stumbled back shaking sweat from his forehead. "I... I need to let this out," he gasped, the power inside of him still coursing like a second heartbeat.
Arwin, covered in blood from the bandits he had slayed, put his hand on his shoulder. "Go," he said plainly. "I'll cover you."
Inside, Eldarin began to prepare a small bowl of green herbs that he crushed and finely ground to a paste. Next to him, Hera was quickly preparing towels and bandages.
"This will awaken him," said Eldarin, "and soothe what is left of the wounds."
Rhea as kneeling next to Hunter, pulling his hair back as his body thrashed trying free itself from the sedative's grip.
"Easy, Hunter," she whispered, the tears slipping freely down her cheeks. "It's over. You're safe."
Hunter's breath rasped in his throat, and for a moment, it felt as if he might struggle free. And then, all at once, he went completely still.
"Hunter?" Rhea whispered, anxiety tightening her chest.
Eldarin frowned deeply. He reached out and pressed his fingers into Hunter's throat—underneath his skin, he felt the galloping frantic pulse.
"It's… not failing," he said quietly. "It's racing. Like fire."
Without warning, everyone in the room felt it—an immense, crushing pressure. Mana burst free from Hunter's core, a wave of elemental force rolled over them, a surge of unrefined power.
Rhea gasped, the ferocity stealing her breath. Hera stumbled back against the wall, her eyes wide in astonishment.
Hunter's body began to glow—a faint blue, the mana that blasted free from his torso started to twist and coil around him. Everything, all of his injuries, the mana was fixing. Sinew, gut, and skin—all repairing in moments that were happening in weeks. Flesh reattached with a pop or crack, bones mended with an audible sound.
"It's his body... it's healing itself," Eldarin murmured, some combination of awe and fear creeping into his voice. "Faster than I've ever seen. So this is the regenerative power of a Grand Knight."
Out in the world, Luenor stumbled through the forest's edge still floating from the mana in his blood. Every breath a mile, legs heavy.
"I can't hold it much longer," he whispered hoarsely to Arwin.
Arwin scanned the trees that were mostly gone, his eyes fixed on the open battlefield. "Then just use it," he said plainly. "You can't waste it. Make it count."
Luenor nodded, moving his eyes tighter in focus. He dropped to his knees and buried his bare palms into the cold earth. He could barely recall a short while ago, in a moment of panic, the screaming, the chaos...
'Not this time, I will not lose this way.', Luenor thought as he gritted his teeth.
He exhaled slowly, inhaling steady, and finally let the mana inside him flow--not in a raging river, but a slow and steady break over a dam; an even steady pulse of blue light spread around him in a phosphorescent twilight.