The Invincible Young Master

Then, suddenly-

"Light…!" someone gasped.

Far ahead, a glow flickered to life. Weak at first, then steady, like a beacon shining in the dark sea.

The soldiers' spirits surged. Shoulders straightened, eyes lit with hope.

Their steps quickened, discipline cracking under the rush of relief. Even the stoic generals let out quiet breaths, tension easing from their frames.

The glow swelled with every step until at last a massive gate loomed before them, hewn of stone and carved with runes none could read.

The symbols pulsed faintly, as though the gate itself had a heartbeat.

Just then, Lina's voice was heard once again.

"I-inside, do not move recklessly. Beyond this gate lies a labyrinth of formations." She added. "U-until I dismantle them completely, stay close and stay still."

The silver radiance of Lina's staff brushed across the surface of the gate.

The runes stirred, shifting like ripples in water, before a low, resonant hum rolled through the air. Slowly, ponderously, the gateway opened.

One by one, they stepped through.

The brilliance of the passage blinded them for a heartbeat, and when it faded, Reynold blinked into a new world.

White fog stretched in every direction, dense and choking, swallowing both sight and sound. Even breathing felt heavier here.

He glanced around quickly. Ling Yan's group, which had entered moments earlier, was gone without a trace.

Only his soldiers remained behind him, their silhouettes faint shapes in the mist yet standing firm, like iron walls.

Reynold stretched his senses outward, probing for Ling Yan's aura.

A frown tightened his brow almost immediately. His perception was being crushed, smothered until it could reach no farther than a few dozen steps. Something unseen forced it back, like invisible walls pressing from every direction.

"Could it be because of a formation?" he thought

Before he could act, a soft sound brushed past his ear.

"Everyone… this is a trap."

The soldiers froze as if struck by lightning, every man stiffening with blades and spears lifted in readiness.

Reynold's eyes narrowed. He swept the haze, yet found no movement, no flicker of killing intent, only the endless curtain of white fog pressing in on all sides.

Clank!

Clank!

Clank!

Just then, the sharp clash of steel rang out ahead, faint yet piercing, carried through the mist as if from some hidden battlefield.

"What's happening up there?" one of Reynold's generals muttered.

Reynold turned calmly to his general, his tone steady, unyielding.

"I'll go check. Hold the line. Do not move from the formation's safety."

"Allow me to accompany you, my lord." Said the general.

Reynold shook his head.

"No. You stay. Guard them well."

There was no room for argument in his words. Though reluctant, the men bowed their heads in silence.

Reynold stepped into the mist alone. His eyes scanned the fog ahead, searching for the faint distortions of hidden traps.

Behind him, the silhouettes of his soldiers blurred, swallowed piece by piece until they were gone.

He had not gone far when a sound came.

Swish!

The hiss of something slicing through the fog at blistering speed. His eyes widened, instincts snapping into focus.

But that thing was already upon him.

A luminous projectile, forged entirely of condensed energy, slammed into his chest plate.

Bang!

The impact thundered through his armor, staggering him backward. His boots scraped against the stone floor, leaving a deep mark.

Before he could fully steady himself, the fog shifted.

A shape appeared at his flank, so close it felt as though it had been waiting there all along, cloaked by the mist.

Reynold frowned. He hadn't sensed a thing until now.

The figure lunged, its weapon glinting faintly, though the veil of fog obscured its true form. Its speed was frightening. Reynold had no time to draw his sword.

He threw his left arm up in defense.

Clank!

Steel met steel with a shriek, sparks bursting in the suffocating haze.

The strike hammered against his gauntlet, splitting it apart with brutal force.

Metal shards scattered. The attacker left a deep gash in his forearm.

Hot blood spilled, dripping down his wrist and pattering onto the floor.

But his vitals remained untouched.

He staggered back once more, but there was no time to recover.

In an instant, four more foggy silhouettes erupted from the swirling mist around him, closing in from every direction like predators circling their prey.

Their forms were indistinct, shifting, and wavering as though they were barely tethered to reality.

However, now, Reynold's right hand had already found his sword hilt.

The first attacker, who had wounded him, froze mid-step and leapt back, shouting.

"Fall back!"

But the warning came too late.

Shhhk!

The four silhouettes collapsed, their forms splitting apart cleanly, without them even realizing how

Only one figure remained, the one who had issued the warning.

Reynold's eyes narrowed. Even for him, few could anticipate his attack with such precision.

"You can speak…" he said. "Tell me, who are you?"

The figure offered no answer.

Reynold stepped forward, blade angled, ready for the next assault.

Then, swish!

A sharp sound sliced through the air. Another arrow, forged from condensed energy, tore through the fog, aimed straight for his chest.

This time, he was prepared. Steel met energy with a ringing clash as he struck the projectile mid-flight.

Sparks erupted, dissipating harmlessly into the oppressive white haze.

When Reynold blinked again, the remaining figure was gone. The four he had dispatched had vanished as well, their presence erased entirely, leaving no trace.

Yet the faint ringing of steel lingered, carried off into the distance as though a battle continued unseen.

They wanted to slow him, to draw him away from the path.

He took another step forward.

Then, another whistle split the heavy fog. Not one arrow this time, but two, launched simultaneously from the mist.

They cut through the silence like twin knives, aimed at him.

The arrows tore through the fog like twin streaks of silver light.

Rather than meeting them head-on, he dodged.

It was obvious now, their intent wasn't to kill him outright. These figures sought only to delay him, to stall and keep him from joining the fight further ahead.

But why? And who were they?

The way they moved, the precision of their stances, the controlled force behind their attacks, none of it resembled beasts or mindless constructs.

These were trained fighters. Ascendants, he was certain.

A faint shimmer raced across his chestplate. The crack from the earlier strike began knitting itself back together.

The divine steel of his artifact reshaped, restoring the flawless surface as if it had never been struck.

The arrow of condensed light that had pierced him had also dissipated into motes.

His wound on his left arm also sealed itself, the vitality within his body surging to mend the gash.

That strike… he thought, flexing the arm cautiously. It pierced my first layer of defense.

To breach his layered protections required not just strength, but precision and mastery. Whoever had struck him had skill far beyond an ordinary ascendant.

He could not discern the enemy's level through this cursed veil, but the wound had already told him enough. That silhouette was strong, but the more fitting word would be tricky.

Reynold's gaze flicked upward, toward the faint echoes of steel clashing somewhere deeper in the haze.

"What's happening ahead…"