The circle of enemies slowly tightened around them. Ten armed men, determined and ruthless, blocked every possible escape route. The darkness grew heavier, and the air buzzed with a palpable threat.
"We can't back down," Robert whispered, gripping the hilt of his dagger tightly.
Kairo nodded, his heart pounding in his chest, his sword an extension of his will.
"We stay together," Kairo ordered, his voice steady amid the rising tension. "Don't give them a single chance."
The first shadows lunged forward. Battle erupted in a clash of steel and muffled screams. Kairo parried a strike and counterattacked, feeling the raw force behind each blow and the mounting pressure of the fight.
More silhouettes emerged from the darkness—more bandits joining the fray, as if the night itself gave them courage. Trid's men appeared, reinforcing the enemy line with renewed fury.
"There," Racher muttered, pointing toward the rear of the formation.
A towering figure stepped out from the shadows—Trid, the blacksmith, with a cold, calculating gaze and a massive axe that gleamed in the torchlight.
Kairo clenched his teeth. The decisive fight was inevitable.
"We can't let Trid control this battle," he said, his voice low but burning with fury.
The three charged into the enemy lines, blocking, dodging, and countering with precision. Robert and Racher held a solid formation while Kairo remained alert, measuring every movement of his sword.
But amid the chaos, a shadow slipped through with deadly speed.
Before Kairo could react, a searing pain tore across his back. Trid's axe had landed a deep strike, burning through skin and muscle.
"Kairo!" Robert and Racher cried out in unison, their voices filled with alarm.
Agony exploded through Kairo's body, but there was no time to fall. Gritting his teeth, he spun around in a flash, catching Trid off guard.
With a sharp, precise motion, Kairo slashed toward Trid's neck, barely grazing it. Trid stumbled back, gasping.
"Damn brat!" Trid snarled, enraged and unsteady.
Wasting no time, he turned and bolted into the darkness.
"Kill them all!" he shouted as he vanished into the shadows.
"Kairooo!" Robert and Racher rushed to their wounded comrade.
"Hang in there, Kairo! We've got you," Robert said, his voice firm but laced with worry.
With one final push, Robert and Racher took down the remaining bandits, clearing the field as Kairo struggled to endure the burning pain in his back.
The battle had taken a sudden turn—but the war against Trid and his men was far from over.
"Racher, behind you!" Kairo warned.
Racher spun around just in time, but not fast enough to avoid a slash across his face.
Without hesitation, Robert lunged and struck down the last bandit lurking in the shadows.
"You alright?" Robert asked, eyeing the cut on Racher's face.
"I'm fine," Racher replied firmly. "But Kairo's wound… it's bad. He's losing a lot of blood."
Robert's expression turned serious.
"We have to get back, now. That injury is serious. If we don't act fast, he won't make it."
Racher pressed his lips together, looking at Kairo, who was barely standing.
"I'm sorry, Kairo," he said with determination. "But we can't leave without finishing the mission."
They exchanged a tense glance. They had known the risks from the beginning—even Kairo, despite being young and inexperienced. They'd all accepted this mission wouldn't be simple or safe.
Kairo struggled to breathe, feeling blood run hot down his back, but his voice came out stronger than expected:
"Don't argue. We have to find that bastard—Trid—and finish this. Only then can we leave and salvage what's left of this night."
Robert nodded, recognizing the unwavering will behind Kairo's words.
"You're right. We finish it fast—and then we get you out of here."
Racher tightened his grip on his sword, ready for whatever came next. The battle wasn't over—and the weight of responsibility fell on all three of them, more united than ever.
The night showed no mercy, but neither would they.
Racher shot off in the direction Trid had fled, while Robert supported Kairo, who could barely stay on his feet.
Whether by luck or misfortune, Trid returned. He had fled in fear, but his thirst for revenge brought him back. Those three had taken everything from him. His soldiers were gone, his grip over Graviton shattered.
Fueled by rage, he was determined to eliminate the so-called "heroes" who had dared to stand in his way.
"You took everything from me!" he roared, eyes blazing with hatred. "I'm going to kill you all—and that damned brat will suffer as he watches you die one by one. When his turn comes… he'll regret ever being born!"