Kingdom of Verdwryn

The squad gathered around Captain Garren in the early morning chill, their faces a mix of apprehension and determination. The veteran's voice was cold, his presence as unyielding as the steel he carried.

"The Zeranthian supply line," he began, stabbing a finger at the map laid out before them, "is your next target. Food, weapons, and mana crystals—all heading straight to their forward lines. Your job is to destroy it."

Michael scanned the map, noting the layout of the camp nestled between cliffs and a shallow river. It was well-defended, the terrain limiting avenues of approach.

"Expect resistance," Garren continued. "Their camp is guarded by ten soldiers and a water mage, and I'm told he's on par with you, Alric."

Michael's eyes flicked to the fire mage. Alric's expression darkened, his pride clearly pricked.

"Use your heads. You're outnumbered, but the terrain can be your ally if you're clever. And Michael…" Garren's sharp gaze landed on him. "You've got a strategic mind. Make sure it counts."

Michael nodded.

The squad approached the Zeranthian camp under the cover of night. The faint light of torches illuminated soldiers moving among wagons loaded with supplies.

"Ten of them," Seren whispered, perched high in a tree, her sharp eyes scanning the camp. "Two patrolling the perimeter, four guarding the wagons, two archers, and their mage by the command tent."

Michael knelt, sketching a rough diagram of the camp in the dirt. "We isolate and eliminate. We can't take them all at once."

"Typical," Alric muttered. "Playing it safe again."

Michael ignored the jab. "Seren, take out the perimeter scouts. Gregor, I want a wall cutting off their rear flank once we're in position. Alric, I need you to focus on the soldiers near the wagons. I'll deal with the archers."

Alric smirked. "And what about their mage? Planning to outsmart him too?"

"Yes," Michael said simply, his tone unshaken.

The first scout fell without a sound, Seren's arrow burying itself in his neck. The second barely had time to draw his weapon before another arrow silenced him.

The squad moved into position as the camp stirred uneasily.

"Gregor, now!" Michael commanded.

The earth mage slammed his hands into the ground, summoning a barrier that cut off the rear of the camp. Soldiers shouted in alarm, weapons drawn.

Alric stepped forward, his hands wreathed in fire. "Time to burn."

The camp erupted in chaos as Alric unleashed a devastating barrage of fireballs, the explosions sending soldiers sprawling. Flaming debris rained down, igniting wagons and scattering supplies.

Michael sprinted toward the cliffs, dodging arrows as the Zeranthian archers spotted him. He activated Shifting Step, his form blurring as he reappeared behind one of the archers. With a single, fluid motion, his Verdant Blade sliced through the man's bow and into his chest.

The second archer fired wildly, only for Seren's arrow to find its mark, dropping him instantly.

Near the center of the camp, the Zeranthian mage strode forward, calm and commanding amidst the chaos. Water surged around him in a deadly vortex, extinguishing flames and cutting through Gregor's barriers with ruthless precision.

"You'll need more than tricks to beat me," the mage sneered, raising his hands. Jets of water shot toward Alric, the force tearing through the ground.

Alric snarled, summoning a blazing inferno to meet the attack. The two elements collided, hissing and steaming, each vying for dominance. But the Zeranthian mage pressed harder, his water magic adapting and overpowering the flames.

Michael's mind raced. They couldn't win a direct confrontation. "Alric, pull back! Keep him distracted!"

Alric growled but obeyed, launching a wave of fire to force the mage back.

Meanwhile, Torval and Gregor clashed with the remaining soldiers. Torval's sword gleamed as he parried a brutal strike, countering with a slash that left his opponent staggering.

"Behind you!" Michael shouted.

Torval turned just in time to block another soldier's attack, but the force drove him to one knee. The soldier raised his weapon for a killing blow—only for Michael's Binding Roots to erupt from the ground, dragging the man down.

Michael lunged, his blade striking true. Blood sprayed as the soldier collapsed.

"Torval, you're hurt!"

"I'm fine," Torval gritted out, though blood seeped from a deep gash in his side.

"You're not fine. Seren, cover him!"

Michael turned his attention to the Zeranthian mage, who was now driving Alric back with relentless waves of water.

"Time to even the odds," Michael muttered. He activated Seeded Battlefield, vines bursting from the ground and releasing a noxious mist that choked and slowed the remaining soldiers.

The mage noticed, his eyes narrowing. With a sweeping gesture, he summoned a deluge to wash away the vines and mist.

Michael smirked. "Just what I wanted."

He invoked Earthen Counter, jagged spikes erupting from the ground beneath the mage. The attack disrupted the mage's footing, forcing him to falter.

"Alric, now!" Michael shouted.

Alric's face twisted into a feral grin as he unleashed a torrent of fire, the flames consuming the mage in a devastating explosion. The Zeranthian screamed, his defenses overwhelmed.

When the smoke cleared, the mage lay motionless, the remnants of his water magic dissipating.

The camp was silent save for the crackle of flames and the groans of the dying.

Michael knelt beside Torval, pressing a hand to his wound. "Stay with me," he said firmly.

Kara rushed over, her water magic glowing as she began to heal him.

"You're reckless," Alric said, his tone harsh.

Michael met his gaze. "Reckless kept us alive."

Alric snorted, but there was no bite in his retort.

As the squad regrouped, battered but victorious, Michael looked over the smoldering camp. They were bloodied and bruised, but they had done it.

"Good work, all of you," he said quietly.

The battle had been savage, but they had survived—and, for now, that was enough.