"Father!" An elf shouted
"I'm okay, brat! Just focus on killing that bastard!" Lefyr shouted, clutching his side, blood staining his clothes. He applied healing magic to his wound, soothing the pain, but he immediately went back into action.
"Who are these people?!" Aethon asked, casting [Wind Cutters] at the three cloaked figures that were trying to kill them.
"I don't know, son, but they're after our lives, so we have to kill them!" Orris, Aethon's father, shouted.
One of the cloaked figures, a swordsman, lunged, demonic energy crackling around his blade like a living storm, warping the air. Orris reacted instantly, slamming his staff down as three spirits—fire, wind, and wood—spiraled out around him, casting spirit incantations. Shields of magic formed, but the moment the sword struck, they shattered.
The demonic blade tore through the barrier and sent Orris flying. He crashed hard, coughing blood, barely rolling aside as a crimson arc split the ground.
