Laurence advanced through the rubble with steady steps, his gaze fixed on his objective: a house in the southeastern quarter where one of the area spells was anchored. The air was thick with smoke and residual magic; the scent of gunpowder and blood clung to every shattered stone.

  Several of the count's warriors tried to stop him.

  The difference in power was absolute.

  With a single stroke of his blade, Laurence cut them down, bodies splitting as blood slicked the cobblestones. Their screams dissolved into the wreckage of broken walls. Desperation was etched into every face that dared stand before him.

  Then a figure emerged from the chaos.

  Victor Denisse, commander of the defensive platoon, stepped into his path. His eyes burned with determination—and fear. He knew he would likely die. But he would not allow the invader to advance unchallenged.

  Victor drew in his mana. A brilliant blue aura erupted around him as he activated a seventh-tier spell. Wind coiled around his sword, compressing into a razor-edged arc that tore forward.

  Laurence slipped aside in one fluid motion—but the gale struck a knight behind him, hurling the man through the air. His cry vanished into dust.

  A flicker of fury crossed Laurence's eyes.

  He lunged.

  Steel collided with a thunderclap. The soldiers nearby recoiled instinctively; a single misplaced step meant death. For several heartbeats, the duel seemed balanced—mana crackled, blades shrieked, and each clash burst in flashes of raw energy.

  But Laurence was stronger.

  Channeling dark mana into a single, decisive cut, his blade whistled through the air and shattered Victor's sword in two.

  The force of the strike severed the commander's arm.

  Victor fell to his knees, screaming through blood and dust. Before he could react, Laurence stood before him. The blade descended with merciless precision.

  Victor's head rolled across the stones.

  His eyes, still open, reflected the disbelief of a man who had believed he could halt the relentless advance of Douglas—and who now understood that some forces were beyond mortal defiance.

  Even under the weakening effects of the area spell, Laurence pressed forward without hesitation. In the entire kingdom, only three people could face him in battle. Two were not present.

  The only one capable of killing him was far away—likely sipping tea in her camp, unaware of the chaos unfolding.

  When Laurence reached his target, he showed neither mercy nor hesitation. With a single motion, he released a surge of dark mana. The house anchoring the spell exploded into fragments, stone and timber scattering into smoke-choked air.

  The knights assigned to escort him arrived moments later, breathless and bloodied, ashamed they could not match their lord's pace.

  Laurence stepped toward the magic circle carved into the ground, sustained by arcane stones still pulsing with blue light. One precise strike shattered the conduits sustaining it.

  The area spell unraveled in a burst of pure radiance.

  Across the city, Douglas and Armett knights felt the weight lift from their bodies—as though an invisible yoke had been torn away.

  With the spell's fall, the slaughter began.

  The invading forces advanced like a single organism, crushing resistance beneath gleaming armor dulled only by smoke. Entire squads surged through the streets, cutting down defenders as the tide turned irrevocably.

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  High above, a hawk sliced through the sky.

  A woman with pale eyes rode upon its back, observing the battlefield with cool precision before banking toward the Douglas encampment.

  Maite entered the command tent and knelt before Sofía, who sipped tea with composed detachment.

  "How goes the battle?" Sofía asked, her voice calm—sharp as a blade's edge.

  "My lady, all three area spell sites have been destroyed. The battle now tilts in our favor."

  "Excellent. Maintain surveillance and inform me of any changes."

  Sofía set her cup aside and rose.

  Her bond with her magical beasts vibrated through the air—an invisible tremor that made her stiffen at once.

  "Aleph," she said sharply, turning. "Alert all reserve forces. Prepare defensive lines. This battle is far from over."

  "My lady?" Maite asked, startled by the shift in tone.

  "A monster stampede approaches."

  Sofía stepped from the tent, cloak snapping in the wind. In the distance, the thunder of hundreds of pounding feet shook the ravaged earth.

  Carnivores and herbivores charged together—an impossible amalgamation. Their roars fused into a single, terrifying chorus. It was no natural phenomenon.

  Ancient texts spoke of this: demonic forces capable of subjugating all beasts, forging them into a living army bent solely on destruction.

  "What have those damned Denisse done?" Sofía murmured, eyes fixed on the advancing storm of fangs and horns.

  "My lady," Aleph said steadily, "our mages require time to recover. We have five thousand soldiers and one thousand active mages remaining. Your orders?"

  "If demons control them, they cannot be far," Sofía replied, fastening the harness of Thunder, her winged beast. "I will hunt them with my riders. Organize the defense. Inform Count Noah—we cannot afford failure."

  "As you command, Duchess."

  Sofía ascended upon Thunder, surrounded by four hundred seventy riders mounted on magical beasts of every shape and element.

  From above, the stampede surged like a living tidal wave.

  But under her command, the riders moved as one.

  Fire beasts roared at her right, summoning infernos. To her left, lightning-clad creatures crackled like living storms. At the center, water and wind cut through enemy ranks with surgical precision, while titans of stone and bone anchored the rear like an unbreakable wall.

  The left flank ignited first—monsters attempting to encircle them were obliterated in a fusion of lightning and boiling torrents, a blue radiance splitting the battlefield.

  For a moment, the horde faltered.

  Then the demons guiding them—hidden behind sorcerous circles—reorganized the ranks with cold efficiency.

  Guided by Larryet's keen senses, Sofía located them: twenty-six demons concealed behind a wall of enraged beasts.

  Five colossal monsters surged forward to block her path.

  Thunder roared.

  Electricity coursed along his body like a river of blue fire as he slammed into the first colossus, a horned behemoth that collapsed in a cloud of dust. Larryet tore into another, snapping its neck with a thunderous crack.

  The rest fell beneath flame, lightning, wind, and stone.

  The stampede began to fracture—but Sofía knew this was only the beginning.

  "Impudent humans!" a demonic count roared, voice reverberating like a storm. "We will teach you your place!"

  Dark mana condensed above them.

  A rain of meteors fell.

  Formations shattered. The sky burned crimson. The earth trembled.

  Four demonic counts raised their hands, beginning an incantation—but Sofía urged Thunder forward. In one fluid motion, she drew her spear from its bracer and hurled it.

  Wrapped in lightning, it pierced a demon's chest.

  "Human… do you think it is so easy to stop us? We are immor—"

  A gesture from Sofía.

  Thunder answered.

  A bolt from the heavens descended, coursing through the spear and disintegrating the demon in blinding light.

  She straightened in the saddle.

  "Well," she called coolly, "who's next?"

  Two counts charged. A spell struck Thunder, hurling them violently aside. Sofía hit the ground hard.

  For a heartbeat, she was exposed.

  Then Larryet fell upon one attacker, rending him apart. Sofía activated a rune-etched talisman—water magic burst outward, slowing the second demon's movements.

  Thunder rose, channeling lightning through Sofía's spear.

  The strike obliterated her foe.

  The remaining three counts attempted retreat.

  The riders closed in, cutting off escape.

  In desperation, the demons combined their power. The earth split, and a winged abomination of black feathers and burning eyes emerged, exhaling corrupted energy that blasted riders from the sky.

  At Sofía's signal, her ten strongest riders charged in unison.

  Lances blazing with mana tore through the summoning matrix. In a cascade of radiant detonations, the winged horror disintegrated into drifting darkness.

  Silence fell.

  Only ragged breaths and the faint crackle of residual mana remained.

  Sixty-four riders lay motionless upon the field.

  There was no time to mourn.

  Sofía weighed her choice: pursue the demons and eradicate them—or turn southwest, where Laurence still fought.

  Her decision was swift.

  "Regroup," she commanded. "We are not finished. The blood spilled here will not be in vain."

  The riders straightened.

  "Southwest," she ordered at last. "We hunt the demons before nightfall."

  Thunder reared, lightning surging across his form.

  The riders followed—advancing like a living storm beneath a sun veiled by smoke and ash, while Vayllen City continued to burn behind them.