The Immortal General

The word hung in the air, a death knell that shattered the fragile victory they had just secured. Diversion.

For a frozen moment, the grand hall of Thalion's estate was silent, the echoes of battle replaced by the deafening roar of a far greater conflict unfolding across the city. The smoldering remains of the Inquisitors, the faint scent of ozone and spilled blood—it all felt suddenly insignificant, a sideshow to the main event they had completely missed.

Thalion's face was a mask of pure, unadulterated panic, his usual courtly composure shattered. The guards who had stumbled in behind him were bleeding, their armor dented, their eyes wide with the horror of what they had witnessed.

"They came out of nowhere," one of the guards stammered, his voice cracking. "Royalist banners… hundreds of them. They bypassed the main thoroughfares, using the old service tunnels. They struck Lord Finian's and Lady Elara's estates simultaneously. It was a coordinated attack, my lord. An execution."

JD's grip tightened on his mithril longswords, his knuckles white. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through his veins, but now it was curdling into a cold, hard rage. "They played us," he growled, his gaze sweeping over the faces of his comrades. "They knew we'd be here, waiting for them. They threw their elite at us, knowing we'd be too focused on our own defense to see the real attack."

Marie's fiery aura, which had been a blazing inferno moments before, now flickered with a dangerous, purple intensity. The demonic power of her Lucifer's Regalia was responding to her fury. "That bitch," she hissed, her voice a low, venomous whisper. "Alveri sent them here to die, just to keep us occupied."

"It was a masterful move," Lucius admitted, his voice cold and analytical despite the chaos. He was already looking at the schematic of the city he had been studying earlier, his mind racing to calculate the new variables. "She sacrificed her own elite assassins—her most powerful pieces—to pin us down while she took our most valuable allies off the board. She's not just trying to win; she's trying to cripple us, to leave us isolated and without support."

A heated debate erupted, the team's shock giving way to a frantic urgency.

"We have to go!" JD insisted, his voice sharp and commanding. "Finian and Elara are the cornerstones of this alliance. If they fall, the entire rebellion collapses before it even begins."

"And leave this estate undefended?" Thalion countered, his voice strained but regaining a sliver of its usual authority. "Emmeline and Yanie are here. Alveri's primary target is still my niece. This attack could be a feint within a feint. She could have another force waiting for us to leave."

It was Jin Albera who stepped forward, his presence a calming force amidst the rising panic. The Royal Court Archmage, who had been observing the fight from a strategic distance, now took center stage. "Lord Thalion is right to be cautious," he said, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone that cut through the tension. "But Lord Commander JD is also correct. We cannot afford to lose our allies." His gaze, ancient and wise, swept over the group. "A queen does not throw away her most powerful assets without a purpose. This was more than a diversion; it was a declaration. She believes she can win on all fronts tonight."

Emmeline stepped forward, her regal poise unshaken, her presence a calming anchor in the storm of panic and indecision. She had shed the role of a guest, of an ally. In that moment, she was a queen.

"We will not choose between our allies and our leaders," she declared, her voice ringing with an authority that silenced all arguments. "We will save them both."

All eyes turned to her, waiting.

"We split our forces," she stated, her gaze sweeping over the team, her mind already formulating the strategy. "We need a fast, hard-hitting team to break the siege and rescue our allies. And we need a steadfast defensive force to hold this estate against whatever comes next."

She looked directly at JD, her eyes filled with a trust that was both a burden and an honor. "JD, you will lead the rescue team. Take our strongest fighters. Marie, your firepower will be needed to break their lines. Akasha, your stealth and speed will be invaluable in an urban assault. And Fiala," she said, her voice softening slightly, "they will need your healing more than anyone."

JD nodded, his expression grim but resolute. He understood the weight of the mission he was being given.

Emmeline then turned to the others. "Yanie, Chrysta, Lucius, you will remain here with me. We are the defensive core. Lucius, I will need every trap, every ward you can muster. Chrysta, we will turn this estate into a fortress of ice. And Yanie," she said, her gaze meeting the young elf's, "you will command the defense. The guards of this house, the loyalists who will rally to us—they will look to you for leadership. Show them the strength of Queen Luell's daughter."

Yanie, who had been standing in shocked silence, straightened at Emmeline's words. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes were replaced by a cold, hard resolve. She was no longer just the rightful heir; she was a commander with a duty to protect her people. She gave a single, sharp nod.

"And what of us?" Jin asked, gesturing to himself and the three black-clad Panthers who had materialized silently at Nightingale's side.

Emmeline's gaze was sharp and decisive. "Archmage, your power is best suited to countering whatever dark magic the Queen unleashes on this estate. You will be our anchor against the demonic forces. As for Nightingale and her Panthers," she said, turning to the silent Umbra leader, "you are the dagger in the dark. While JD's team draws the enemy's attention in the streets, you will move through the shadows. Your mission is to neutralize their command structure—take out their sergeants, their mages, any officer coordinating their ambushes. Create chaos in their ranks and clear a path for the rescue team."

Nightingale gave a slight, almost imperceptible bow. "Their leadership will be crippled, Your Highness."

The plan was set. It was a desperate gamble, a division of their already limited strength. But it was their only path forward.

JD and his team began to gear up, their movements swift and purposeful. Marie's fiery aura was now a controlled, burning intensity. Akasha melted into the shadows, her crimson eyes the only sign of her presence. Fiala gathered her healing salves and potions, her face a mask of calm focus.

As they prepared to leave, JD walked over to Chrysta. The two of them stood in the midst of the organized chaos, a pocket of quiet intimacy.

"Stay safe," JD said, his voice low. He reached out, his hand hesitating for a moment before he gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

Chrysta's eyes met his, and in them, he saw a mixture of fear and unwavering strength. "You too," she whispered. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" he replied, a faint, familiar grin touching his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Never."

He held her gaze for a moment longer, an unspoken promise passing between them. Then he turned and joined his team at the main entrance. "Let's move," he said, his voice now all business.

With a final, shared look of grim determination, the rescue team disappeared into the chaotic night of Sylabell, their footsteps echoing through the now-empty hall. Emmeline watched them go, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The viper had struck, and now, the city itself was the battlefield.

The ethereal beauty of Sylabell had twisted into a nightmare. The soft, glowing light from the city's crystalline architecture was now starkly contrasted by the hungry orange flicker of burning estates. Smoke, thick and acrid, choked the air, mingling with the scent of spilled blood and ozone from shattered magical wards. The elegant, tree-lined avenues of the noble district had become a deadly maze of barricades and ambushes, the melodic hum of the city's magic replaced by the cacophony of war.

JD's team moved with the fluid precision of a predator, a tight-knit unit of overwhelming force against the backdrop of chaos. They didn't run; they advanced, a relentless push through the Royalist-held streets. JD was at the point, his twin mithril longswords a blur of motion in the dim light, their dark metal seeming to drink the flickering firelight. His Hurricane Regalia was active, a subtle whirlwind of air currents swirling around him, deflecting stray arrows and enhancing his already formidable speed.

"They've blocked the main thoroughfare to Lord Finian's estate," he called back, his voice sharp and clear over the din of distant fighting. He pointed with one of his blades toward a narrower, shadowed path that wound between two towering heartwood manors. "We cut through here. Stay sharp. It's a perfect ambush point."

Marie didn't need to be told. Her Lucifer's Regalia pulsed with a dangerous, purple-tinged fire, her eyes scanning the rooftops and darkened windows. "Let them try," she growled, a sphere of [Trueflame] already coalescing in her palm, its sapphire and violet flames dancing with a life of their own. "I'm in the mood to burn something."

Akasha, moving like a phantom at her side, let out a low, appreciative purr. "A sentiment I share entirely."

As they entered the narrow street, the trap was sprung. From the rooftops above, a volley of crossbow bolts rained down, each one tipped with a sickly green poison that hissed as it cut through the air. Simultaneously, Royalist soldiers, their leaf-green armor almost invisible against the backdrop of the city's foliage, surged from the alleyways, their spears forming a deadly phalanx. The coordination was impressive, a clear sign that this was no disorganized rabble; these were disciplined soldiers fighting for their Queen.

"Fiala, barrier!" JD roared, not even breaking stride.

Fiala, who had been running just behind him, slammed the butt of her staff into the cobblestones. "[Sanctified Barrier]!" A dome of golden, translucent light erupted around the team, the crossbow bolts shattering against its surface with harmless metallic pings. The holy energy of the barrier sizzled as it neutralized the poison, leaving trails of acrid green smoke that dissipated into the night air. The barrier shimmered, holding strong against the initial assault, but Fiala grunted with the effort of maintaining it.

The Royalist spearmen charged, their discipline impressive as they tried to pin the team in the narrow street. Their long spears, held in a tight, overlapping formation, were designed to stop a cavalry charge. Against four individuals, it should have been an impenetrable wall of steel.

But they were met by Akasha. The vampire was a specter of death, a blur of black leather and crimson claws. She moved through their ranks with an unnatural, hypnotic grace, her movements too fast for the eye to follow. One moment, a spearman was bracing for impact; the next, Akasha was behind him, her claws having already ripped through his throat. He collapsed without a sound, his comrades turning in confusion only to meet the same fate. She didn't just kill; she dismantled their formation from the inside out, her every move a masterpiece of brutal efficiency.

"Clear a path!" JD commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. He activated [Echo], three shimmering afterimages of himself flickering into existence. He and his clones surged forward, a whirlwind of steel that broke through the spear wall. The Royalist soldiers, disoriented by the multiple targets, were cut down with ruthless efficiency. One soldier lunged at what he thought was JD, only for his spear to pass through an illusion. The real JD was already at his side, his mithril longsword delivering a clean, fatal strike.

Marie took a deep breath, her [Hellborn] wings flaring as she rose a few feet into the air. "My turn," she announced, her voice layered with a demonic resonance. She unleashed a torrent of [Wrath of Ignis], a spiraling tornado of sapphire and purple flame that tore down the street, incinerating the Royalist crossbowmen on the rooftops and turning their barricade at the end of the street to ash. The sheer, overwhelming power of the spell sent a wave of heat through the alley, the stone walls glowing red for a moment.

The path was clear. But the cost was evident. Fiala was already kneeling beside one of Thalion's guards who had joined their charge, his leg pierced by a stray bolt that had made it through her barrier. Her hands glowed with a soft, healing light, but her expression was strained.

"They're well-trained," she said, her voice tight with concentration. "And they're not holding back. They're fighting to kill."

"So are we," JD replied, his gaze already fixed on the path ahead. He glanced at Marie, who was breathing heavily, the intense magical output taking a toll even on her. "Marie, conserve your strength. We don't know what's waiting for us at Finian's estate."

"Don't worry about me," she shot back, though her fiery aura had dimmed slightly. "I've got more than enough fire left for these traitors."

They continued their desperate race through the city, the sounds of battle growing louder with every step. The elegant heartwood manors of the noble district were now burning pyres, their crystalline windows shattered, their once-manicured gardens trampled and blood-stained. They could hear the clash of steel, the screams of the dying, and the explosive crackle of magic. The entire noble district was a warzone.

Nightingale and her Panthers moved parallel to them, phantoms in the shadows. They didn't engage in direct combat. Instead, they were the unseen hand sowing chaos in the enemy's ranks.

A Royalist sergeant, directing his squad from a concealed position behind a decorative fountain, suddenly choked, a black-fletched throwing knife protruding from his throat. His men turned in confusion, only to be met by a volley of crossbow bolts from the rooftops. The command structure of the ambush crumbled before it could even fully form.

JD's team felt the effects immediately. The resistance in front of them lessened, the Royalist formations becoming more disorganized, their movements less coordinated.

"Nightingale is doing her job," Akasha purred, a flicker of professional respect in her crimson eyes as she dispatched a Royalist soldier who had stumbled out of an alley, confused and leaderless.

"Thank the gods for that," JD muttered, cutting down another Royalist soldier who had been slow to react. "We need every advantage we can get."

They rounded a corner into a large, open plaza, and were met with another, larger Royalist force. A hundred soldiers, led by a hulking Aspirant Paladin, blocked their path. The Paladin, his armor glowing with a faint, holy light, raised his mace. "Traitors of the crown, your path ends here!" he boomed.

"A Paladin fighting for a demon-worshipping queen?" Marie sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "You've got a strange sense of piety."

The Paladin's face hardened. "The Queen is the rightful ruler of this kingdom. It is you who have sided with usurpers and foreign invaders. For the honor of Firane, I will strike you down!"

He charged, his mace glowing with holy energy. JD met him head-on, his mithril longswords a blur as he parried the crushing blow. The impact sent a shockwave through the plaza, cracking the cobblestones beneath their feet.

"Marie, Fiala, take the soldiers!" JD yelled, his muscles straining as he held back the Paladin's relentless assault. "This one's mine!"

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Marie and Fiala moved as one. Marie unleashed a wave of demonic fire, forcing the Royalist soldiers to raise their shields, while Fiala cast [Sanctified Ground], a spell that created a circle of holy energy that weakened the demon-core-infused soldiers. Akasha moved through the chaos, her claws a blur as she picked off the soldiers one by one.

The duel between JD and the Paladin was a brutal contest of strength and skill. The Paladin's blows were heavy, each one carrying the weight of his conviction. But JD's Hurricane Regalia made him a whirlwind of motion, his [Echo] clones flickering in and out of existence, creating a disorienting, multi-pronged assault that kept the Paladin constantly on the defensive.

"You fight with tricks and illusions," the Paladin grunted, his mace crashing down where an [Echo] had been a moment before. "Face me with honor!"

"Honor is for the living," JD shot back, his real form appearing at the Paladin's flank. He drove his sword into the gap in the Paladin's armor, just below his arm. The Paladin roared in pain, but he was a seasoned warrior. He spun, his mace swinging in a wide arc, catching JD in the side and sending him flying.

JD crashed into the side of a building, his armor groaning under the impact. He staggered to his feet, blood trickling from his lips. Before the Paladin could press his advantage, a hail of crossbow bolts struck him from the shadows. Nightingale and her Panthers had arrived.

The Paladin was forced to raise his shield, the bolts deflecting off its surface. In that moment of distraction, JD surged forward, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unwavering determination. He activated [Tempest Blade], his swords a blur as he unleashed a flurry of strikes that overwhelmed the Paladin's defenses. The final blow, a powerful, two-handed thrust, pierced the Paladin's heart.

The hulking warrior collapsed, his holy light fading. With their leader fallen, the remaining Royalist soldiers broke and fled.

The team regrouped, battered but victorious. Fiala rushed to JD's side, her hands glowing as she healed his wounds.

"That was too close," she said, her voice tight with concern.

"We're running out of time," JD said, his gaze already fixed on the path ahead. "Let's move."

They finally broke through the last of the barricades and emerged into the grand plaza before Lord Finian's estate. The sight that greeted them was one of utter devastation. The estate, once a symbol of the Southern Houses' wealth and elegance, was engulfed in flames. The air was thick with the smell of burning heartwood and death.

The household guards of House Solara were making a desperate last stand at the main gate, their numbers dwindling with every passing second. They were hopelessly outnumbered, facing a disciplined force of over two hundred of General Kaelen's elite Royalist soldiers.

And on the battlements, his simple but elegant silk robes now torn and stained with blood, stood Lord Finian himself. He wielded a ceremonial longsword, its silver blade more suited for display than for battle, but he fought with the fierce desperation of a man defending his home. Beside him, a handful of his most loyal guards held the line, their faces grim but resolute.

"They're not going to last much longer," Marie said, her voice a low growl.

"Then we don't give them the chance to fall," JD replied, his expression hardening. "Marie, Akasha, Fiala, with me. We're crashing this party."

While JD's team raced through the burning streets of Sylabell, a different kind of battle was being waged at Thalion's estate. The grand manor, once a symbol of quiet power and refined elegance, had become the last bastion of the rebellion.

With the main assault team gone, a heavy, expectant silence settled over the remaining defenders. It was the calm before a storm they all knew was coming.

Emmeline stood in Thalion's study, which had been converted into a makeshift command center. She, Thalion, and Jin Albera huddled over a large, magically illuminated map of the estate grounds, their faces grim. Lucius was with them, his artifact goggles glowing faintly as he monitored the flow of mana through his newly amplified wards.

"They've committed their main force to Finian's and Elara's estates," Thalion mused, his finger tracing a line on the map. "But they won't leave us untouched for long. Alveri knows Yanie is here. She'll send another wave."

"And it will not be a conventional one," Jin added, his ancient eyes scanning the perimeter of the estate on the map. "The demonic seal on the Arborea is pulsing with a corrupt energy I have not felt in centuries. The creatures it spawns will be far more dangerous than simple soldiers."

As if on cue, a low, guttural groan echoed from the gardens outside, a sound that seemed to crawl up from the very earth itself. It was followed by another, and another, until the air was filled with a chorus of monstrous, inhuman sounds.

On the main balcony overlooking the gardens, Yanie stood with Chrysta, her bow in hand. She watched as the ground began to writhe, the elegant, manicured lawns churning as if alive. From the rich, dark soil, grotesque figures began to emerge.

They were twisted mockeries of nature—vines that lashed out like whips, trees that contorted into shambling, humanoid shapes, their branches ending in razor-sharp claws, and smaller, skittering creatures made of thorns and rage.

"So it begins," Yanie murmured, her voice steady despite the horror of the scene unfolding before her. She nocked an arrow, its silver tip gleaming in the dim light.

Chrysta stood at her side, her Skadi Regalia pulsing with a cold, pale light. A fine mist of frost swirled at her feet. "They're not just monsters," she said, her analytical gaze scanning the creatures. "They are extensions of the Arborea's corruption. Their cores are weak, but they are numerous, and they are… relentless."

The first wave of demons surged forward, a tide of corrupted nature that crashed against the estate's outer wards. Lucius's arcane traps flared to life, a series of kinetic explosions and mana bursts that tore through the front ranks of the demonic horde. But for every creature that fell, two more seemed to rise from the ground to take its place.

"The wards are holding," Lucius reported through a sending stone, his voice calm and precise. "But they are draining mana at an alarming rate. They won't last forever."

It was Yanie who took command. Her voice, once soft and hesitant, now rang with a newfound authority that cut through the rising panic of Thalion's household guard. "Archers, to the upper balconies!" she commanded, her voice echoing across the courtyard. "Focus your fire on the larger creatures! Do not waste your arrows on the smaller ones!"

Thalion's guards, who had been wavering, their faces pale with fear, straightened at her command. They looked at her, at the quiet, unwavering strength in her eyes, and they saw not just the exiled niece of their lord, but a queen. Her resemblance to her late mother, Queen Luell, was uncanny in that moment—the same regal poise, the same unyielding resolve.

"You heard her!" one of the guard captains roared, his voice filled with a renewed sense of purpose. "To your positions! For Lady Yanie!"

The guards rallied, their fear replaced by a fierce, protective loyalty. They moved with a discipline they had not shown moments before, their arrows finding their marks with deadly precision.

Yanie let loose her own arrows, each one a silver streak of death that found the weak points in the demonic creatures' corrupted forms. Beside her, Chrysta was a storm of ice and frost. She slammed the butt of her staff onto the balcony floor, and a massive wall of shimmering ice erupted from the ground, blocking the main path to the estate. The demons crashed against it, their claws scraping uselessly against the frozen barrier.

"It will not hold them for long," Chrysta said, her breath misting in the cold air she had created. "They are mindless. They will keep coming until they break through or are destroyed."

"Then we destroy them," Yanie replied simply.

The battle for Thalion's estate was a desperate, grinding siege. The demons were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. They swarmed the walls, their corrupted forms a grotesque mockery of the nature they had once been.

Lucius, from his position in the central tower, was a master puppeteer of death. His artifact wand glowed with a fierce light as he manipulated the estate's wards, creating shifting barriers of kinetic energy and arcane fire. He reinforced the sections of the wall that were weakening, his mind a whirlwind of calculations.

"Chrysta, the western wall is buckling!" he called out through the sending stone. "I need a [Glacial Fortress] spell to reinforce it!"

Chrysta, who was in the middle of casting a [Nixstorm] to thin out a cluster of demons at the main gate, grit her teeth. "I can't be everywhere at once, Lucius!"

"You have to be!" he shot back, his voice strained. "If that wall falls, they'll be inside the courtyard!"

With a frustrated cry, Chrysta shifted her focus, her hands glowing as she summoned a massive fortress of ice to reinforce the western wall. The demons crashed against it, their advance momentarily halted.

But the pressure was relentless. Yanie and her archers were running low on arrows, their quivers nearly empty. Thalion's guards were beginning to tire, their arms aching from the constant strain of holding back the horde.

It was then that the escaped Inquisitor made his move. He had been waiting, observing from the shadows, a patient predator watching his prey exhaust itself. He emerged from the chaos, a blur of black leather and demonic speed, and was on the main balcony in an instant.

Yanie spun, her bow coming up just in time to block his dagger. The impact sent a shockwave through her arms, but she held her ground. "I was wondering when you'd show your face," she snarled.

The Inquisitor smiled, a cold, cruel expression. "The Queen sends her regards," he hissed, his dagger a blur as he pressed his attack.

Their duel was a desperate dance on the edge of a knife. Yanie was skilled, her movements fluid and precise, but the Inquisitor was faster, stronger, his demon-core-infused body granting him an unnatural advantage. He drove her back, his dagger a blur of motion as he sought an opening.

Down below, the demonic horde surged forward, their attack timed perfectly with the Inquisitor's. They crashed against the weakened ice wall, which shattered under their combined assault.

"They're through!" one of the guard captains roared.

Emmeline, who had been coordinating the defense from the study, saw the breach on the magical map. Her face was a mask of cold, regal calm. "Jin," she said, her voice steady. "It is time."

Archmage Jin Albera, who had been standing silently in the corner of the room, his eyes closed in concentration, opened them. They glowed with an ancient, powerful light. "As you command, Your Highness."

He raised his hands, and the very air in the study seemed to hum with power. A wave of pure, untainted mana erupted from him, a force so powerful that it shook the very foundations of the estate.

Outside, a dome of shimmering, emerald light expanded from the study, a massive barrier of pure, uncorrupted magic that enveloped the entire estate. The demons that had breached the wall shrieked as the light touched them, their corrupted forms dissolving into smoke.

The Inquisitor, who had just driven Yanie to one knee, cried out as the holy energy washed over him, his demonic core flaring in protest. "What is this?!"

Yanie seized the opportunity. She lunged forward, her bowstring drawn tight, and loosed a single, silver-tipped arrow at point-blank range. The arrow struck the Inquisitor in the chest, the holy energy searing through his corrupted core. He collapsed, a look of shocked disbelief on his face as his life faded.

With the Inquisitor defeated and the demonic assault faltering against Jin's powerful barrier, the defenders rallied with a triumphant cheer. They had survived the first wave. But as they looked out over the sea of demons still swarming outside the barrier, they knew this was only a temporary reprieve.

The grand plaza before Lord Finian's estate was a scene of utter devastation. The elegant heartwood manor, once a symbol of the Southern Houses' wealth and refined grace, was now engulfed in flames, its crystalline windows shattered and its once-manicured gardens trampled into a muddy, blood-stained ruin. The air was thick with the smell of burning wood, death, and the acrid tang of expended magic.

The household guards of House Solara were making a desperate last stand at the main gate, their numbers dwindling with every passing second. They were hopelessly outnumbered, a small band of loyal retainers facing a disciplined force of over two hundred of General Kaelen's elite Royalist soldiers.

And on the battlements, his simple but elegant silk robes now torn and stained with blood, stood Lord Finian himself. He wielded a ceremonial longsword, its silver blade more suited for display than for battle, but he fought with the fierce desperation of a man defending his home. Beside him, a handful of his most loyal guards held the line, their faces grim but resolute.

"They're not going to last much longer," Marie said, her voice a low growl of controlled fury as she surveyed the one-sided battle.

"Then we don't give them the chance to fall," JD replied, his expression hardening. "Marie, Akasha, Fiala, with me. We're crashing this party."

They hit the rear of the Royalist siege line like a thunderbolt, their arrival announced by a wave of demonic fire from Marie and the blur of JD's Hurricane Regalia. The Royalist soldiers, who had been focused on the gate, were caught completely by surprise. Their disciplined formation, so effective against the beleaguered household guards, shattered as the four warriors tore through their ranks, a whirlwind of steel, fire, and shadow.

Marie's [Wrath of Ignis], a spiraling tornado of sapphire and purple flame, carved a path of destruction through the enemy lines, incinerating a squad of Royalist archers who had been raining arrows on the gate. The screams of the burning elves were a horrifying symphony that momentarily drowned out the clash of steel. Akasha was a specter of death, her vampiric claws a blur as she moved through the disorganized soldiers, her strikes silent and deadly. She was a phantom in the firelight, each flash of her claws ending a life. Fiala, ever the protector, created a shimmering [Sanctified Barrier] around the small team, deflecting the panicked, retaliatory spells of the Royalist mages, while her other hand glowed with healing light, ready to mend any wounds they might sustain.

JD was at the heart of the assault, his twin mithril longswords a blur of motion. He was a storm of steel, his [Echo] clones flickering in and out of existence, creating a disorienting, multi-pronged attack that the Royalist soldiers could not counter. He moved with a purpose that was both beautiful and terrifying, his every strike a masterpiece of deadly efficiency. He was not just fighting; he was dismantling the enemy army, one soldier at a time.

"Push through!" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Clear a path to the gate!"

General Kaelen, who had been overseeing the assault from a command position near the plaza's central fountain, turned in shock. He had not anticipated such a powerful, coordinated counter-attack. His face, scarred and weathered from a hundred battles, twisted into a snarl of rage.

"Who are these Midlanders?" he growled, drawing his own massive greatsword. "They fight with the ferocity of demons." He turned to his second-in-command, a stern-faced captain. "Rally the reserves! I will deal with these interlopers myself."

As Kaelen and his elite guard moved to intercept JD's team, the battle for Lord Finian's estate escalated into a chaotic, multi-front engagement. The household guards on the battlements, seeing the tide turning, rallied with a defiant cheer. Lord Finian, his face grim but his eyes blazing with a renewed sense of hope, pointed his ceremonial sword at the enemy below.

"Hold the line!" he roared. "Our allies have come!"

The duel between JD and General Kaelen was a brutal contest of strength and skill. Kaelen was a veteran warrior, his greatsword a heavy, crushing force. But JD's Hurricane Regalia made him a whirlwind of motion, his speed and agility allowing him to dance around Kaelen's powerful but slower strikes.

"You fight with the tricks of a coward," Kaelen grunted, his greatsword crashing down where JD had been a moment before, shattering the cobblestones.

"And you fight with the predictability of a rock," JD shot back, his real form appearing at Kaelen's flank. He drove his sword into the gap in Kaelen's armor, just below his arm. Kaelen roared in pain, but he was a seasoned warrior. He spun, his greatsword swinging in a wide arc, catching JD in the side and sending him flying.

JD crashed into the side of a burning building, his armor groaning under the impact. He staggered to his feet, blood trickling from his lips. Before Kaelen could press his advantage, a hail of crossbow bolts struck him from the shadows. Nightingale and her Panthers had arrived.

The elite assassins moved with a silent, deadly grace, their crossbows and throwing knives picking off Kaelen's elite guard with chilling precision. Kaelen was forced to raise his shield, the bolts deflecting off its surface. In that moment of distraction, JD surged forward, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unwavering determination. He activated [Tempest Blade], his swords a blur as he unleashed a flurry of strikes that overwhelmed Kaelen's defenses.

The final blow, a powerful, two-handed thrust, was aimed at Kaelen's heart. But the General was a veteran of countless battles. He twisted at the last second, the blade missing its mark but still piercing his shoulder, forcing him to stumble back.

This was their opening. The rescue was their primary objective, not a prolonged duel with the enemy commander.

"Marie! Akasha! To the gate! Now!" JD roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Marie, who had been a whirlwind of demonic fire, unleashed one final, massive [Inferno Hand] that sent a squad of Royalist soldiers flying, creating a clear path to the estate's entrance. Akasha, her claws dripping with blood, melted back into the shadows, reappearing at the gate moments later to cut down the last of the soldiers attempting to hold it.

The team fought their way to the main gate, where the last of Lord Finian's guards were holding the line. With the rear assault broken, the guards rallied, and together, they pushed back the last of the Royalist soldiers, creating a secure perimeter.

JD, Marie, Akasha, and Fiala finally reached the battlements, where Lord Finian stood, his ceremonial sword still in hand, his face a mask of grim determination. He looked at JD, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

"You came," he said, his voice hoarse.

"We did," JD replied, his gaze sweeping over the devastated plaza. "But this is far from over. We need to get you and your men out of here, my lord. Now."

Lord Finian nodded, sheathing his sword. He turned to the last of his household guards, his voice ringing with authority. "You heard him! We are withdrawing! To Lord Thalion's estate!"

The withdrawal was a masterfully executed fighting retreat. Marie created a wall of fire that blocked the main plaza, forcing General Kaelen's regrouping forces to take a longer route. Akasha and Nightingale's teams used the city's narrow alleys and rooftops to harass the pursuing Royalists, picking off their scouts and sergeants to sow confusion. Fiala provided constant healing to the wounded guards, ensuring that every able-bodied man could contribute to the defense.

JD was the heart of the rearguard, his Hurricane Regalia a blur of motion. He and his [Echo] clones created a disorienting, shifting defense that kept the pursuing Royalists at bay, their attacks always a step behind.

General Kaelen, his shoulder bleeding and his face a mask of fury, watched them go. He had been outmaneuvered, his decisive victory turned into a costly and embarrassing stalemate. He roared in frustration, but he knew a direct pursuit through the trapped and burning streets would be suicide. He had underestimated them, and he had paid the price.