Chapter 17 – Smoke Before Fire
Clara sat on a flat stone under the pale light of dawn, absently twirling a small ember between her fingers. The wind was dry, but the camp behind her was quiet for once. Survivors still slept. The fire had burned low.
And Andrew…
He had changed.
Not in a bad way. Not really.
But the boy who once moved like a ghost—quiet, cold, distant—was slowly cracking open. His silences were shorter now. He looked her in the eye more. He smiled, not often, but genuinely. He'd even laughed once, at her joke, when they were flying over the sea.
It surprised her. Still did.
He was letting her in. Bit by bit.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
She brought the ember closer to her face and let it vanish into smoke.
Her heart had been hardened by what she'd seen. Her Chaos Alignment still pulsed inside her—a sleeping god stirring in her bones. She hadn't told Andrew yet. Not fully. Not about what she'd felt during the boss fight in Libya. Not about the moment where her fire had turned black, wild and unstable. Or the moment she had wanted to burn everything, just to make the pain stop.
It scared her. Because part of her didn't mind the power.
"Clara."
She turned, startled, as Andrew stepped through the broken tent flap. His voice was calm, but urgent.
"They've called us."
---
The Scouting Mission
Ten minutes later, they were fully geared—Andrew with his longsword across his back, wrapped in a ribbon of darkness, and Clara in her reforged umbra-threaded armor, humming faintly with fire resistance and arcane heat.
Marco briefed them swiftly near the camp gate.
"We've confirmed movement from the military faction just twenty kilometers north. We need eyes on their forward base, but keep your distance. They're growing more aggressive."
Andrew nodded. "We'll find out what they're planning."
They set off with a pair of scouts—Elias and Rowan, both level 13 Players trained in stealth and tracking. But after the first leg of the journey, Andrew quietly dismissed the others and disappeared into the woods for a moment.
When he returned, Clara didn't need to ask. She already felt the faint ripple in the shadows.
"Minions scouting?"
He nodded. "They'll bring back a map and details."
---
Enemy Territory
The deeper they went, the more organized the terrain became. Roads had been reinforced with summoned earth. Defensive outposts dotted the hills. Magical surveillance crystals rotated in the treetops like unblinking eyes.
Eventually, they found the military's forward base.
It was more than just a camp—it was a fortified mobile city, built in concentric rings. Hundreds of people moved with synchronized efficiency: survivors in chain-linked lines, soldiers patrolling in squads, and a central plaza where elite Players trained under brutal conditions.
Andrew's minions slipped through the cracks.
Within an hour, they brought back troubling news:
The military faction, officially calling themselves The Order of the Iron Dawn, sought total control over southern Europe. They had begun absorbing smaller groups, through forced contracts or public executions.
Their leader, General Dante Fiori — Level 25, Earth and Command-type Player — was said to be a tactical genius. Ruthless. Efficient.
But worse than him… was his right hand.
---
Assassin in Scarlet
Her name was Selena Vale.
Level 21. Assassin-Class Player with dual-elemental enhancements: Speed and Agility, with powerful sensory suppression. Her fighting style was built around misdirection and surgical strikes—few who saw her lived long enough to warn others.
But her beauty was the first deception.
Tall and slender, with waist-length silver hair and eyes like polished steel, Selena walked like a noble and killed like a beast. Known among the ranks for her terrifying cruelty, she executed both enemies and subordinates with a smile. It was rumored she bathed in blood after battles.
And she had seen Andrew's minion.
---
Marked and Hunted
As Andrew watched the memory flicker across the minion's vision—Selena's eyes turning directly toward it, a blink of motion, and the screen turning black—he knew they had been made.
"We're not safe here," he said, voice tense.
Clara already had her sword in hand. "They'll send someone."
Andrew nodded. "Not someone."
He turned west, shadows curling around his shoulders.
"They'll send her."
(Continued – Iron Dawn POV)
The heart of the Iron Dawn's forward base pulsed with strict rhythm. Soldiers marched in formation. Player squads sparred under supervision. Artificers checked magic devices at crystalline stations humming with low, arcane energy. Every motion was clockwork.
The base wasn't just a military camp. It was a machine—oiled by fear, discipline, and ambition.
At the center, within a raised obsidian bunker adorned with crimson banners and reinforced with Earth magic, the war council chamber stirred with tension.
Inside, General Dante Fiori stood over a large map table. His square jaw was tight with thought, his granite-grey armor immaculate, lined with runes of endurance and stability. Behind him, the elemental weight of Earth radiated like a boulder lodged in reality. His presence alone was suffocating.
At his side—arms folded, back straight—stood Selena Vale, his second-in-command. Her black uniform hugged her lean form, dual daggers holstered at her hips, and faint silver threads lined her cloak like spider silk. Her eyes were unreadable.
The silence stretched.
Until Dante finally spoke.
"They killed a minion. One of yours?"
Selena's lips curled slightly. "Shadow construct. Observational. Sloppy… but subtle enough to almost get away."
"And?"
"I followed the trace before it died. It belonged to someone powerful. Not from any faction we've registered in this region."
She reached into a hidden pouch and dropped a small crystal shard onto the table. It pulsed once—dark, faintly cold.
"Residual darkness mana. High density. Unique signature."
Dante frowned. "And you let them go?"
"I didn't let them go," she said with mild amusement. "I wanted to observe. One more minute and I would have found them. But they moved quickly. Clearly experienced."
He grunted, rubbing his temple. "Everyone moves quickly these days. That's the problem."
"They weren't locals."
Dante narrowed his eyes. "From where?"
"Hard to say. The girl with him used tri-elemental magic, I believe. She's dangerous. The boy is something else entirely."
He looked at her sideways. "Think they're part of a rogue faction?"
Selena's expression didn't change. "No. Lone wolves. Survivors. Dangerous ones."
---
Command Structure – The Iron Dawn
The conversation was soon interrupted by the soft knock of an armored man at the door.
"Enter," Dante said.
Captain Erwald Vance, head of Logistics and Resource Control, stepped in. A large man, more brawn than brain, but kept his operations precise. A Level 16 Metallurgy-Enchanter Hybrid, he could fuse, reshape, and enchant raw materials into combat-ready equipment within hours.
"They've intercepted several of our scouting lines. We've lost two supply carts and seven operatives this week."
Behind him stood Commander Sylva Morn, head of Combat Operations, and a Level 20 Weaponmaster. With short copper-red hair and a cold stare, she had once led a mercenary guild in Germany. She handled discipline—and execution.
"Selena's confirmed we're being tracked," Sylva said. "Possibly by a Player strong enough to hide from our sweeps. A threat."
And last came Director Lioran Tess, leader of Magical Intelligence and Detection, a gaunt, cloaked figure whose eyes always shimmered faintly with blue light. He was a Level 18 Arcanist-Sensor, known for maintaining the camp's barrier and scrying network.
He floated a crystal toward Selena. "I felt the shadow mana pulse as well. It vanished before I could triangulate."
Dante folded his arms. "You're all telling me we're being watched by someone who can move freely across my entire zone of control."
Selena didn't flinch. "Yes."
He turned to her, his tone low.
"And you want me to let them run free?"
She smiled softly, deadly.
"No, General. I want to hunt them."
---
Orders Given
He stared at the map again, the central marking indicating their current territory.
"We can't afford rogue elements right now. We have four minor factions left to subjugate. If they get wind of an independent force strong enough to threaten us—"
"They'll unite," Lioran said. "They'll panic."
Selena tapped the table twice.
"Then let's make an example."
Dante paused. Then nodded once.
"Take your team. Erase them. If you can't capture, kill."
Selena bowed slightly and turned on her heel, already vanishing into smoke before the door closed.
Sylva muttered under her breath. "She enjoys this far too much."
Erwald grunted. "She keeps our enemies afraid."
Dante glanced back at the dark crystal on the table.
"Let's make sure they have a reason to be."
They returned to the camp just after dusk, shadows stretching long between the tents as the firelight flickered low. The atmosphere was heavier now, as if the earth itself held its breath.
Andrew stepped into the command tent without a word. Clara followed close behind.
Marco looked up from a worn map, eyebrows rising.
"What is it?"
Andrew didn't waste time. "My minion was destroyed. Tracked. Not by accident."
Livia frowned. "You're sure it wasn't a trap or random patrol?"
Andrew shook his head. "The woman who did it… silver hair, long, deadly. She moved like she could kill without blinking. Slim build. Carried dual daggers. Didn't say a word."
The room fell silent.
Dante went pale first.
Marco exhaled slowly, color draining from his face.
Livia dropped the scroll she was holding.
"No," she muttered. "She's here?"
Andrew glanced between them. "You know her?"
"Selena Vale," Marco whispered. "Second-in-command of the Iron Dawn. Speed and stealth build. Assassin-class with full military training. She's their ghost. Their blade in the dark."
"She doesn't kill because she has to," Livia added, almost breathless. "She kills because she enjoys it."
Andrew felt the chill settle across the camp like mist. He didn't need a system prompt to know what came next.
And right on cue—
Seeker buzzed.
A harsh pulse slammed into his skull.
"Nine hostiles. Fast approach. Northeast ridge."
He stood. "It's them."
Marco nodded, already strapping his gauntlets. "Scouts, move the civilians now. Take them east—fast and quiet."
The order was swift. The scouts gathered survivors and disappeared into the darkness.
Only five remained: Andrew, Clara, Marco, Livia, and Dante.
They waited by the outer ridge—where the moonlight draped the land in pale silver, and the wind whispered through ruined trees.
---
The Ambush Begins
They didn't come in loud.
They came perfectly silent, fanning out in formation.
Eight black-cloaked operatives, weapons drawn, glowing faintly with runes. Coordinated, merciless. Moving like parts of a killing machine.
And then her.
Selena Vale.
She walked at a casual pace. Her silver hair swayed with the breeze. Her twin daggers were already in her hands, tips stained with something dark. Her eyes locked directly onto Andrew—and smiled.
No words exchanged. No orders needed.
The battle began like a whipcrack.
---
Clara's POV – Blades and Fire
Clara didn't hesitate.
She surged forward with Marco and Livia flanking her—Marco's enchanted hammer glowing gold, Livia moving in a flash of silver blade and wind magic.
Their enemies met them head-on. The Iron Dawn unit split and engaged instantly. Clara clashed with a spear-wielder enhanced by lightning magic, the force of his javelin nearly shattering her guard. Fire erupted from her palm and scorched his cloak, forcing him to retreat—but another moved in instantly.
She wasn't alone. Marco crushed a soldier into the earth with a thunderous roar, his Warhammer pulsing with kinetic power. Livia flowed between enemies like a hurricane, slicing tendons, dodging counters, shielding Clara twice from incoming spells.
Still, the squad was relentless. Trained. They used formation tactics to pull them apart, deny movement, and suffocate them in close quarters.
Clara shouted a spell and her sword became ice and flame in equal parts—her Elemental Construct ability forming a hybrid weapon that burned and froze with every clash.
But even with her power… she was sweating, bleeding, pushing herself to keep up.
This wasn't just another ambush.
This was war.
---
Andrew vs Selena – Duel in the Dark
Andrew barely blocked the first strike. It came from nowhere.
Selena moved like time bent around her, appearing to his left and vanishing the moment he raised his blade. Her daggers danced around his longsword, always threatening a joint, a tendon, a throat.
He activated Shadow Step, blinked behind her—and found nothing.
Then pain bloomed across his side. She had already circled again.
He was stronger. His skills were more versatile.
But she was faster. And her entire fighting style was built around the kill.
A flick of her hand—daggers glowing with poison. A twist of her wrist—aiming for pressure points. She was military-trained, precise, deadly.
He backed away, firing a Dark Blast, catching her cloak—but she rolled, flipped over the ridge, and landed gracefully on the edge of a broken boulder.
Still smiling.
Andrew growled. Shadows flared from his shoulders like wings.
He wasn't going to win this by reacting.
It was time to push back.
Clara's POV – Fire in the Trenches
Clara ducked under a sweeping blade, pivoted, and drove her ice-sheathed knee into her opponent's ribs. He coughed blood and fell—but not before hurling a blinding light sigil at her face.
She turned away, covering her eyes just in time. The world flared white.
She barely felt the wind before a second enemy struck—sharp knuckles slamming into her jaw.
But he didn't expect the fire.
"Inferno burst!" she hissed, her palm erupting with molten force.
The assassin's torso ignited mid-air, and he crashed into the rocks behind them.
Clara stumbled, wiping blood from her lips. "Two down."
But four more were closing in.
Behind her, Marco bellowed, slamming his hammer into the ground.
"Kinetic Pulse!"
The terrain cracked outward, and one of the assassins flew backward like a ragdoll, colliding with a tree with a bone-crunching snap.
Marco was breathing hard, his body covered in bruises—but a mad grin was on his face. "Come on, cowards!"
Livia spun in tight spirals, her dual swords weaving a Wind Cage that trapped two opponents in a cyclone of slicing currents. Her movements were graceful, merciless—like dancing death.
Then, a thunderous voice cut through the chaos.
---
Dante – The Veteran's Last Stand
"Hold the line."
They turned as Dante, the camp's aging leader, stepped forward.
His eyes no longer tired—no longer weary—but burning.
He extended both hands. Symbols etched along his arms ignited like golden fire.
"Memory of War: Bastion Mode."
An aura erupted from his body, slamming into the earth like a quake. The ground around them hardened. Barriers of light shimmered into existence. Each ally felt a wave of strength flow into them, restoring stamina, clarity, and reinforcing their very limbs.
Clara gasped. Even her bleeding stopped briefly.
"What is this?" she whispered.
Marco smirked. "War blessing. From back when Dante fought in the attack battalion. It was rumored he survived three near wipe-out of his squad ."
Dante took a step forward, his back straight despite his age.
He held no weapon—but his arms moved with the precision of a warrior long past the need.
One of the assassins rushed him—dagger flashing for the throat.
Dante moved once.
Snap.
The man screamed as his arm was broken in three places, before Dante elbowed him in the chest—shattering ribs.
"You came to the wrong battlefield," the old man whispered.
---
Andrew's sword blurred through the air, swathed in Dark Flame, each swing cutting deeper into the ground with unnatural force. His footing was sure now—less reaction, more rhythm.
Selena adapted. Every second, her daggers became deadlier. She used his momentum against him, always one half-step ahead, using feints, twirls, and terrain manipulation.
But Andrew was learning. Fast.
He raised his hand, activating Shadow Barrier – Level 4, blocking her assault mid-dash and countering with an uppercut of pure umbra energy.
She reeled back—stunned for the first time.
Her smile cracked.
He didn't give her time to recover.
He leapt forward, sword burning black and violet, a vertical slash aimed to cleave the ground in two.
She twisted out of range—but barely.
"You're faster than before," she muttered, her voice like ice. "Still going to die."
Andrew's breath fogged the air.
"You first."
---
Chaos Rises – Clara's Edge
One of the Iron Dawn's operatives surged toward Livia from behind.
Clara reacted without thinking—flinging her sword away and forming a new one mid-motion.
A construct of flame and ice, shaped into a scythe.
She struck in a perfect arc—slicing the attacker in half before they even realized they'd been marked.
For a brief moment, her elemental construct flared black—tinged with Chaos.
It faded just as quickly. But she felt it.
That strange pull in her chest… again.
The same feeling as in Libya.
She didn't speak it aloud. Not yet.
---
Across the battlefield, Andrew and Selena crashed into each other once more—shadows colliding with invisible strikes.
Blood sprayed. Stones cracked. Trees split.
Selena licked the blood from her dagger.
"Impressive."
Andrew raised his sword, his voice low and cold.
"I haven't even started."