Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 32: The Clash of Elven Steel and Human Fury

The chase had finally led them to the outskirts of the city, where the cobblestone streets gave way to wild, untamed forest. The thick canopy of trees blocked out much of the light, casting deep shadows across the forest floor. The air was thick with tension as the sound of pursuing elves grew closer.

Seraphine's pulse quickened, but she was unshaken. There had been too many times in her long life where she had been cornered. She knew the drill. Fight, survive, escape. Her dagger, which she had kept hidden beneath her cloak, now felt reassuringly light in her hand.

Lucian, a few paces ahead, had his bow drawn, but the look in his eyes told Seraphine that he was ready for something far more direct. His long-sword—beautifully crafted, gleaming in the fading light—was slung at his side. He wasn't the type to run forever.

"Get ready," Lucian said quietly, his voice edged with anticipation. He had already begun to calculate the angles of the battle in his head. Every movement, every strike. He was ready to fight.

From behind them, Quintin could be heard, his voice barely a whisper as he crouched behind a thick oak tree, watching with wide, terrified eyes.

"Seraphine… Lucian… Are you sure we can take them?" Quintin's voice trembled. The clinking of elven armor and the soft steps of their pursuers were growing louder. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Seraphine glanced back at him, giving him a reassuring nod, though it didn't hold the warmth it once had. "Stay out of the way, Quintin. Trust us."

Quintin didn't respond, but he reluctantly ducked behind the tree, knowing his place was not in the fray. He had neither the skill nor the bravery to stand against the oncoming storm.

And so it began.

The first elf soldier emerged from the trees, his gleaming armor barely visible in the twilight. A thin, silvery blade gleamed in his hand as he sized up Lucian and Seraphine, his eyes cold and calculating.

Without warning, he charged.

Seraphine was the first to move. Her body was already in motion as soon as the elf stepped forward. Her dagger, an extension of her own soul, flashed through the air with a speed and precision that betrayed years of training. She was a blur, her movements fluid and deadly, cutting through the air as she met the elf head-on.

The elf's blade swung toward her, but Seraphine anticipated the move with the ease of someone who had faced countless opponents. She ducked under the strike, spinning gracefully and slashing at the elf's exposed side. Her dagger found its mark, cutting through the thin fabric of his tunic and leaving a thin line of blood.

The elf hissed in pain but didn't falter. He recovered quickly, slashing again at Seraphine, aiming for her head.

Seraphine twisted away, narrowly avoiding the strike. Her movements were calculated, each step precisely placed, but she needed to be quicker. The elf was good, his strikes fast and controlled. He wasn't giving her the room to breathe.

Lucian, seeing Seraphine engaged in combat, made his move. He sprinted toward another elf who had just appeared, his sword drawn in a fluid arc. His strikes were a perfect balance of grace and power, each one designed to land with the force of a storm.

The elf's sword met Lucian's with a metallic clash, sparks flying from the impact. Lucian's eyes were cold, his mind working like a machine, calculating the elf's next move before it happened. He countered the elf's swing with a twist of his wrist, spinning his blade and sending it crashing down in a brutal diagonal strike.

The elf barely managed to block the blow, but Lucian's sword was relentless. He pressed the attack, his strikes coming faster and harder with every passing moment.

Lucian was a beast with a blade, a master of the art of combat. His movements were elegant, but each one held the promise of death. His sword cut through the air like a razor, leaving no room for hesitation.

Seraphine, on the other hand, fought like a phantom. She was everywhere and nowhere at once. With each of her fluid movements, she danced around the elves, dodging strikes with the grace of a predator. She was a whirlwind of steel, her dagger always finding its mark. She disarmed one elf with a swift slash, sending his sword flying before she plunged her blade into his side. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

Lucian was faring just as well. He took down one elf with a brutal swing of his sword, cleaving through the elf's chest plate with a mighty blow. The elf crumpled to the ground, and Lucian barely broke a sweat.

But there were more elves. More soldiers. And their numbers were growing.

"Stay focused!" Seraphine called out as she parried another strike, pushing her attacker back with a quick kick to his chest.

Lucian didn't answer, but his gaze flickered toward her. He was already calculating the next move. He needed to end this quickly. He couldn't allow them to be overwhelmed.

With a battle cry, Lucian leaped forward, his sword raised high. His target was an elf archer, perched at the edge of the clearing, preparing to take aim at Seraphine. The elf barely had time to react before Lucian was upon him, his sword crashing down in a brutal arc. The archer was no more.

Seraphine, seeing that Lucian had cleared her path, turned her focus to the remaining elves. There were three left. One had his sword drawn, and the other two were archers, their bows aimed at her.

Seraphine grinned. She knew this dance.

In an instant, she was on the move again, her dagger flashing as she cut through the air with deadly intent. She moved so fast, the elves barely had time to react. She disarmed the first one with a swift strike, her dagger finding the sweet spot beneath his ribs.

The last two elves, realizing the battle was lost, turned to flee. But Seraphine and Lucian weren't going to let them get away.

Lucian was already moving toward the nearest archer, his sword raised. He didn't need to waste time on mercy. With one swift motion, the elf was down.

Seraphine, meanwhile, had already closed the distance to the other archer, her dagger flashing as she sliced through his throat, sending a spray of blood into the air.

The battle was over. The ground was littered with bodies, some of them elven, others human. Seraphine and Lucian stood amidst the carnage, their breathing steady, but their bodies still poised for action.

Quintin, who had been hiding behind the tree the entire time, finally stood up, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear. He hadn't dared to move, but now he could see just how deadly his companions were.

Seraphine wiped her dagger on the grass, the blade glinting in the dim light. "Well, that was… messy."

Lucian sheathed his sword, his gaze cold as he surveyed the battlefield. "We need to keep moving. This won't go unnoticed."

Seraphine gave him a sidelong glance. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Lucian didn't respond. His expression remained unreadable, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he was more than capable of handling this kind of fight.

For Quintin, the weight of what had just happened was sinking in. He had watched, hidden away like a coward, as his companions took down the soldiers with brutal efficiency. It was a reminder that, in this world, not everyone was built for peace.

And not everyone wanted it.

As they continued their journey through the forest, the eerie silence of the aftermath hung over them, broken only by the sound of their footsteps.

End of chapter 32.