"Accept it." The voice resonated in Icariel's mind—calm, deliberate, unwavering."This isn't only about her. It's about you. Your survival. This chance is far more than it seems… and those monsters? You're more than capable of facing them."
The voice never spoke without reason. For it to push this hard… it meant something big.
Icariel exhaled quietly, then spoke. "Fine. I'll help."
He looked to Virethiel, his tone sharp.
"But you'd better keep your word. Also—send soldiers to protect Elena and Elif."
"I already have," Virethiel replied with a soft smile. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Icariel raised a brow. "So, you were already sure I'd help you, huh? Not exactly the purest behavior for an elf princess."
"That may be true," she said with a smirk. "But I'm desperate enough to ask you for help—keep insulting me, and I might just have you executed."
"Then I suppose I owe you an apology."
"Don't bother. I prefer honesty." She pulled her hood up over her head. "Hit the front line—support the soldiers holding there. I'll flank and take out the ones there."
Icariel nodded. "I'll take those two near the left square. The ones fighting by that broken statue."
A group of elven soldiers stood locked in battle with two Yetis—towering beasts of frozen rage, their white fur stained with blood. The shattered remains of a marble statue lay in pieces beneath their massive feet.
"Hold formation!" one soldier barked. "Keep their strikes deflected, and we'll bring them down—just like the others!"
Icariel whispered the wind's name. It answered with a razor howl.
A horizontal slash of wind tore through the air. The front Yeti roared as its arm was severed in a single slash, blood spraying across the ground.
"What—?!" a soldier gasped, eyes wide.
From behind them, Icariel stepped forward, his black eyes calm and locked on the beast.
His forearm, still exposed and scarred from Grinis' claw, shimmered with mana as his next spell activated.
Flames surged to life, shaping themselves into a spear.
"Die."
He launched it.
FWOOM!
The spear screamed through the air and pierced the wounded Yeti's shoulder, embedding deep. Flames erupted from the impact, engulfing the creature in an inferno.
The monster shrieked, thrashing—until, at last, it collapsed in a smoking heap, its body still twitching as life left it.
The soldiers stared in disbelief. "Is that… a human?"
The second Yeti snarled, grief and rage burning in its icy eyes. It reared its body and charged, intending to crush everything in its path.
"On guard!!" the squad leader yelled. "Brace yourselves!"
Icariel prepared another spell.
"Spear of—"
SHRRKK!
Blood sprayed.
A perfect X-shaped slash had been carved across the Yeti's thick neck. Its charge faltered. Its eyes bulged. Then—
THUMP.
Its head fell forward as its entire body crashed to the earth, nearly crushing the soldiers who leapt back just in time.
From behind the beast's massive corpse, Virethiel emerged, her hood falling back as she landed gracefully.
"I had them. You were flanking—don't tell me you thought I couldn't handle two of them?"
She shook her head. "Changed my mind. Easier to drop them if we both go in." Turning to the soldiers, she ordered, "Assist the other squads. He and I will handle the rest."
"Yes, Your Highness!" they shouted, saluting before rushing toward the next cluster of Yetis.
As Virethiel hopped down from the fallen beast's back, she gave Icariel a sidelong look.
"You're not half bad. No wonder Aelar took you as his disciple."
"Thank you," Icariel muttered, brushing ash off his clothes.
Her eyes narrowed. "You've bulked up since this morning. That kind of change doesn't happen in a few hours… what's going on?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care. What's with the sudden interest?"
"Just curious." Her lips curled. "That's all. Don't worry."
She said with a grin. "Shall we?"
"After you."
She pulled her hood up once more and vanished into stealth.
Icariel turned, his body tense with focus, and dashed toward the next battlefield.
From the rear lines, Floon—the vice leader—watched them both.
His eyes widened with awe. "The Highness herself… fighting beside the Warleader's disciple. If this isn't worth dying for, what is?"
He clenched his fists.
"If they are risking their lives, then we will not be outdone! Soldiers! Advance!"
"For honor!" his men roared.
Weapons raised. Eyes blazing. Hearts alight.
They charged.
Across the battlefield, broken earth burned with red fire. Frozen monsters howled in agony. Steel rang against steel. Spells ignited the air. And high above the chaos, the tide of battle started to shift.
Virethiel and Icariel sprinted across the bloodstained square, weaving between rubble and corpses.
The princess moved like a ghost, her stealth arts rendering her a shimmer in the air—barely visible even to trained eyes.
He whispered the wind's name. It answered with a scream.
Icariel raised his hand and pointed his palm forward. A howling, crescent blade of wind erupted, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.
FWOOM!
It caught a massive Yeti mid-swing, cleaving across its torso. Blood burst in a spray, the beast stumbling back with a guttural roar—but still on its feet.
Behind its towering leg, there was a flicker of motion.
Virethiel.
She appeared only for a second, her black dagger flashing. With surgical precision, she drove the blade into the Yeti's inner thigh, slicing through its tendon. The monster let out a tortured scream and collapsed to one knee.
"Finish it!" she shouted, already vanishing into stealth again.
Icariel didn't hesitate. He extended his arm.
Another spear formed, brighter than before—like it wanted blood.
He hurled it straight at the Yeti's head.
The spear screamed like a falling star, trailing embers in its wake.
The spear struck the creature between the eyes. No scream. No final thrash. The flames consumed its skull mid-fall—dead before it hit the ground.
But the battle was far from over.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
Three more Yetis thundered toward the square from the fractured streets beyond, their roars shaking the stone beneath their feet.
One of them charged a group of exhausted soldiers barely able to lift their weapons.
"Too far!" Virethiel called, her voice strained. "I can't reach them in time—can you hit it from here?"
Icariel smirked. "Watch me."
"Will your aim hold at this distance?"
"I lived by hunting. Eating meat kept me alive," he said with a smirk, fully aware how much that would disgust an elf.
Virethiel visibly grimaced. "Disgusting."
He stepped forward, twisting his body, and called forth another spear. As he hurled the fiery weapon with all his strength, he muttered, "Air's nothing."
FWOOOOOM.
The flaming lance cut through the air like a meteor. It struck the charging Yeti in the gut.
BOOM.
Flames erupted, racing along its fur, then consuming it whole. The blaze lit up the entire square in an infernal glow.
In that light—
Virethiel was seen midair, behind one of the remaining Yetis. Her black dagger gleamed.
She dropped silently onto its back and drove the blade into its spine, twisting hard. The monster let out a horrible shriek and collapsed, twitching violently.
The final Yeti, now panicked, turned to flee—
—but the soldiers intercepted and finished it with a flurry of steel.
Virethiel didn't rise immediately.
Icariel blinked sweat from his eyes and approached her.
"You alright?"
She nodded, breathing hard. "I'm fine. Just resting… Floon and the others will kill the last ones soon. Then this ends."
All around them, elven troops surged forward, securing the square and supporting other squads across the battlefield. The sounds of roaring faded as the tide turned.
Icariel dropped to one knee, steadying his breath.
"You pushed yourself," Virethiel said gently. "Your mana reserves must be nearly empty. Thank you—you did enough. I'll finish the rest with them."
He raised an eyebrow. "Empty mana reserves? Is she really provoking me even now?"
His body thrummed with mana. Each breath drew in more—White Sense drinking deep.
"Maybe she hasn't checked yet."
Good.
He knelt beside the broken statue, letting the smoke wash over him. No more effort. No more sweat.
The ash settled on his tongue—bitter and dry. Blood misted the air. The ground still trembled beneath his boots, echoing the dying roars of monsters he'd already slain. For a second, everything slowed—just long enough to feel real.
Let the reward come.
He'd earned it.
But—Virethiel slowed.
Then stopped.
Her eyes flicked toward him, pupils narrowing.
She scanned him again—tracing the flow of mana pulsing through his skin like a living storm.
Full. Untouched.
"Never mind," she murmured, brushing dust from her cloak. "Come help me."
Her voice was steady—but her thoughts weren't.
Icariel froze.
"I just thought this was over…" he sighed. "What changed?"
She turned, calm. "You seem… well enough for a few more monsters."
But her mind was spinning.
"He's still full of mana. As if untouched. As if… this fight never even happened." She looked to the sky, frowning.
"Damn it, Master Aelar… you haven't told me everything about him, have you?"