The person sat alone, with a devlish grin on his face, in a dimly lit hall. Harwin's party severally outnumbered him, yet his face showed no signs of trepidation. He even threatened them, and looked down at them, as if they were insects. Finally, the leader of Harwin's party stated:

  “You underestimate us, but before we engage in a fight. Why not reveal your identity?”

  Upon hearing this, the man stood up. He was slightly above average in height. He was an elf, but unlike the rest of his race, he was on the heavier side. He appeared to be quite powerful. His choice of weapon was a strange one — the combination of a blade, and a spear (a Japanese naginata). As for his attire, he was armored rather lightly.

  “I am Lyrital, the captain of this town, and grand-commander of its defenses. State your name as well before you die?” He spoke with a smirk.

  “So you are the traitor who betrayed my master. I am the student of commander Neilzen. That is the only thing you need to know before I put this sword through your head.” The leader was furious at this man’s introduction.

  Harwin and Kraft sensing the conflict, braced themselves for a possible fatal battle.

  “Ah, Neilzen, that one was a brave man. A shame, I could not kill him myself. He was a fool though — bound by loyalty and honour in this era, where power is all what matters.” Lyrital mocked.

  The leader clenched his teeth, and tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword.

  “We should not engage him.” Harwin suggested.

  “You people should head to one of these doors, as I distract him. It appears that this is the main prison. Do not forget our original task, we have to free the captains at all costs.” The leader commanded them.

  He then immediately lunged forward towards his enemy. Lyrital just stood there — arrogantly. He deflected the strikes of his opponent with ease. The man was quick with his weapon — having sword while also the range of a spear was a great advantage.

  One of the men tried to get past while Lytril was distracted, but as soon as he reached one of the doors, he was stabbed right through the gut. Lyrital had swifly kicked the leader to the otherside, and taken down the person in a matter of seconds.

  The rest were horrified at the sight — too frightened to move.

  “No, no. You people should just stay where you are and watch. Wait for your turns, I shall deal with each of you separately, so be patient~” Lyrital said in a playful tone.

  “Kraft, I’ll use that spell. Strike him down as soon as you see the opportunity.” Harwin whispered to Kraft who immediately nodded.

  Harwin began to chant a spell — almost mumbling it, as to not draw any attention to himself. The leader tried to attack again, but he was being played with — his attacks were being dodged, and he was constantly getting kicked from time to time. It was clear that Lyrital would be able to uphold his threat from earlier — if not dealt with quickly, he would kill every single of them.

  Soon, he was about to slay down the leader, but suddenly could not move forward anymore—

  Upon looking down, he noticed his feet were frozen in place. Obviously confused about what had just occured, he tried to free himself, but then Kraft shot an arrow induced with magika towards him. It was so fast that Kraft was sure to hit the target—

  It was precise and poweful shot, but they were not facing an ordinary man. Lyrital swung his weapon around to not only free himself, but also deflect the incoming attack.

  “Quite a troublesome pair — a mage and an archer. Maybe I should deal with the two of you first.”

  He cackled while looking at them which sent chills down the spine of Harwin, yet Kraft remained steadfast.

  “Gor, I do not think we can take him down this way. I will distract him together with the leader. You should try to get the prisoners out, I will be sure to cover you, so do not look back.”

  Kraft whispered to his comrade whilst the leader diverted the attention of Lytril once more.

  Harwin, though terrified, nodded. This was when Kraft instead of using his bow, drew a short-sword, and launched himself to the enemy with agility that was comparable to the captains. He was truly worthy of the promotion, as stated by Graftel himself.

  Lyrital could not simply deflect this man, so he had to step away as his two opponents attacked in sync. The leader was one thing, but Kraft was simply too skilled to be taken lightly. Of-course, the same was the case with Lyrital, who was able to overpower them both from time to time. There was no room for anyone to take a misstep — even the slightest of movements could turn the tide of this battle.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Harwin slowly made his way to one of the doors and tried the keys. The other five men also tried to get to each of the doors, but most of them were killed immediately. Lyrital attacked anyone he could get his hands on, even while being pursued by two powerful warriors. This man was a beast and certainly was worthy of his title — no matter how treacherous or honourless he was.

  Harwin knew that if he wasted time testing each key, he could end up like the rest of the party members as well so he casted a fire ball. At such a close range, it was a risky move, but also effective.

  The blazing orb melted through the door in mere seconds, as it was made of wood. Harwin now had about ten percent or so magika capacity left — one or two more spells, and he would be as good as knocked out.

  His movements were already affected by the exhaustion, never the less, he quickly kicked down the charred door.

  Just before he was enter the dark room, he felt an attack from behind. It could have been over for him the moment, but the leader stepped forward, and got stabbed in his place. As blood gushed out of his body, he ordered:

  “I....leave the rest to….you two…..take this bastard down……”

  He closed his eyes with that. Kraft was able to land a direct attack on the left arm of Lytril, as the man's weapon was stuck in the gut of the dead leader. Kraft cut clean through the arm, but was quickly repelled back again. Lyrital continued as if nothing had happened.

  Harwin, on the other hand, managed to leap inside the room. Infact, he had not looked back at all. The room was dark, that was when he heard the noise of shackles. He swiftly casted a basic spell, called "FireFly", to lighten up his surroundings — it consumed minimal magika, and was often used by dwarves who explored the mines.

  He found a large man, bound from top to bottom by chains. He was obviously starved, but still had alot of muscles. His body was full of scars. Harwin carefully approached, and then tried the keys on the chains.

  “There are no keys that will work on these damn chains! You have to break, or melt them!” The bounded man ordered, instead of suggesting.

  Harwin could not have used another spell, and hoped to move anymore. Still, he took the risk. He mustered up all his remaining strength — chanting a small yet powerful fire ball. The concentration of magika was intense as it was compressed in a small state. He launched it right at the main link of the chains — melting right through them with ease. Now, Harwin fell to the ground himself.

  “You have done well, youngling. I know what to do now, so you can rest.”

  The giant of a man got up — stretched his back, and then made his way out. His presence was felt as soon as he stepped in the hall.

  Lyrital did not grin anymore — not even a smirked. Infact, he stepped back, as if cowering away from this unarmed man, who was in a sorry state to say the least.

  “Swven….of all the people that human could have freed…” He mumbled, but could be heard throughout the hall.

  In the hall, only Kraft and Swven stood against this man — the others were either killed, or laid injured.

  “TREACHROUS BASTARD! I WILL TAKE YOUR HEAD!" Swven shouted, then he turned towards Kraft, and ordered:

  "Stand down, boy. Go check on your friend, he has fainted.”

  Kraft obliged immediately due to the sheer presence of the man, which was almost weighing down the entire hall.

  Swven was a very tall man. He was incredibly jacked, but also alot more hair than an average elf. He had a single small horn on his forehead which was easily detectable. His appearance matched more to a beast than an elf.

  The surprising thing was that he was not even a half elf. His grand-father had married a human, while his father took the hand of a beast-woman. His folks were killed in the human-elfin war, and Graftel personally took revenge for their deaths. The sword-saint also offered him protection from the discrimination of the other elves, so naturally he swore absolutely loyalty to his benefactor.

  “Now, now, old comrade, no need to be so furious. It was I, who protected you from getting executed.” Lyrital gave all kinds of excuses.

  “TELL THAT TO OUR FALLEN COMRADES WHOM YOU HAVE KILLED! TALK IS OVER!” Swven shouted, and with that he lunged towards his opponent.

  Lyrital deflected the strikes with great difficulty as these were not from a weapon, but the strong razor sharp claws of Swven who attacked without a single break in-between. He was fighting on an empty stomach, yet his sheer speed was not giving any room to counter.

  Lyrital, multiple times, tried to step back abit, but was quickly caught again and again. Swevn did not let the man catch a breath — one wrong step would have ended the life of the traitor.

  Lyrital then decided to risk it all by doing a counter — leaving himself open to any incoming strike. Surprisingly, the attack landed, as it was swift and precise. The naginata was thrusted right into the broad shoulder of Swven which made Lyrital slightly smirk, but it was quickly erased from his face when he could not pull out the weapon.

  Swven’s thick skin made the weapon stuck in it, even Lyrital could not escape as his opponent quickly grabbed his face with mighty grip — lifting the man up in air, but the beast did not finish the fight just yet.

  “Please…please…..let…me….go..for..old..time sake….forgive..me.” Lyrital pleaded with great difficulty, but his opponent just tightened the grip further.

  “YES! PLEA MORE! TELL ME FOOLISH TRAITOR: DID YOU FORGIVE OUR BROTHERS WHEN THEY ASKED FOR MERCY? OH, BUT I AM SURE THEY WOULD HAVE NEVER RESORTED TO SUCH COWARDLY BEHAVIOUR! YOU ARE A DISGRACE!”

  Swven proceeded tear to his opponent's head from the neck, and then threw away the lifeless body.

  “I SHALL TAKE YOUR HEAD, AND DISPLAY IT FOR THE WHOLE CITY TO SEE, COWARD! YOU EVEN STOLE THE WEAPON OF NEILZEN!”

  Swven slowly took the weapon out of his shoulder. He then sat with his back against a wall — the man had been fighting on an empty stomach, and was even injured now, so it was only natural for him to hit the limits.

  The battle had ended, but they were still in enemy territory. Their guide, the leader of the group, also laid dead, so the question arose:

  How will they be able to return back to safety?