Draven stared at Kaela.
Really stared.
Then he scoffed.
"Intentions?" he said flatly. "Damn—you're still hung up on that?"
His lips curled into something sharp and unapologetic.
"You're one petty little bitch, aren't you."
Kaela didn't react.
Didn't blink.
Didn't bristle.
Draven shrugged faintly.
"I'd really like to punch you in the face," he went on, tone almost conversational, "but that's gonna have to wait for another time."
He turned away from her without another glance.
Instead, his eyes locked onto the maid.
"Hey," Draven said, his voice snapping into command. "Get right to it."
The maid straightened instantly.
"Don't just keep them busy," he continued, red eyes hardening as the humor drained from his tone. "As long as you can—better give it your all."
A pause.
His voice dropped, colder now.
"And don't you dare do it half-assedly."
The maid inclined her head, calm and unwavering.
"As you command," she replied.
Draven didn't wait to see her move.
He turned back toward his mother, rain streaking down his face as resolve finally settled into place.
"Alright, Mom," he said, firm now. "Let's get out of here."
The storm roared on.
Kaela stood motionless, watching.
The maid stepped forward—weapon rising, presence sharpening into something lethal.
And for the first time since the clash began, the battlefield split cleanly into two paths:
One toward **escape**.
And one toward **everything that would be left behind**.
Before the maid could move—
Elliana's voice cut cleanly through the tension.
"Listen to me."
Draven paused.
Slightly puzzled, he looked at his mother.
Then at the maid.
Then back at Elliana.
Her voice remained calm—too calm.
"I want you," Elliana said evenly, "to go find Lyriana and Aldric."
The maid straightened at once.
"Make sure Eleyna and Lucifer are safe," Elliana continued. "Do not leave their sides."
Draven's brow furrowed.
"Leave Draven with me," Elliana finished. "I'll take care of him."
Draven's head snapped toward her.
"What?"
The maid bowed slightly, smooth and precise.
"I will see to it immediately," she said. "The young miss and young master will be protected. No harm will come to them."
She lifted her head, eyes flicking briefly to Draven—acknowledging him, respectful.
"I leave the young master in your care, my lady."
Draven stared.
The words didn't register at first.
The implications did.
"What the fu—"
"Wait," Draven said quickly, stepping forward. "Hold on—don't go anywhere—"
But before he could finish—
The maid was gone.
No flash.
No ripple.
One moment she stood there.
The next, only rain and empty space remained.
Draven stood frozen, staring at where she had been.
Then, slowly, he turned back toward his mother.
"What the *fuck*," he muttered.
The storm rolled on.
And Elliana—very deliberately—had just changed the rules.
Draven's head snapped fully toward her.
"What the hell was that, Mom?" he demanded, voice sharp, words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Why did you do that?"
He gestured violently toward the empty space where the maid had vanished.
"Damn it—why did you send her away?" Draven went on. "She was supposed to deal with all these dumbasses!"
He dragged a hand through his wet hair, breathing hard.
"Why send her to go get Lucifer and Eleyna?" he snapped. "That wasn't the plan—"
His jaw tightened suddenly, frustration boiling over.
"Damn it."
Elliana stared at him.
Not gently.
Not patiently.
"Honey," she said, her voice calm but edged, "calm down and listen to me."
Draven barked out a harsh laugh.
"Calm down?" he shot back. "How—how the hell do you expect me to do that?"
He stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"You don't think about yourself at all, do you?" he said. "You just—"
"Will you just shut up," Elliana snapped, "and listen to me first?"
The words cut through the storm.
Draven stopped.
He didn't argue.
He didn't interrupt.
He simply stood there, chest heaving slightly, rain sliding down his face as he glared at her—jaw tight, hands clenched, every emotion coiled and waiting.
The silence between them was heavy.
And Elliana was about to say something that mattered.
Elliana exhaled slowly.
"All we need to do," she said evenly, "is finish them off."
Draven stared at her.
"Then we can leave easily."
He let out a short, humorless breath.
"Yeah," Draven replied, rubbing his face with one hand, "I think I already know *that* much by now."
He looked back toward the battlefield—toward Kaela, toward Cedric, toward enemies who simply refused to stay down.
"But the real question," he continued, voice tight, "is how the hell are we supposed to do that?"
His jaw clenched.
"If I could, I'd love to kill them all," he said bluntly. "But during my entire fight with that bastard—" he jerked his chin toward Cedric, "—I didn't land a single strike."
Not once.
The admission burned.
Elliana didn't react.
Didn't correct him.
Didn't comfort him.
She simply nodded once.
"No need to worry about that," she said calmly.
Draven frowned. "What?"
"We don't need to beat them here," Elliana continued. "We just need to bring them somewhere…"
She stepped forward.
"…where we have the upper hand."
Her eyes gleamed faintly.
"Our battlefield."
Before Draven could ask what that meant, Elliana crouched down, ignoring the mud soaking into her clothes. Shadows gathered instinctively as her mana surged—not violently, but deep and resonant, like something ancient stirring beneath the earth.
She pressed her palm flat against the ground.
The world answered.
The mud beneath her hand darkened instantly, shadows sinking into it like ink into water. The earth trembled—subtle at first, then stronger—ripples traveling outward in widening rings.
Draven felt it immediately.
A pull.
A pressure.
Like the ground itself had inhaled.
The rain slowed.
The storm's roar dulled, as if swallowed.
"This place," Elliana said quietly, shadows spreading from her hand like roots burrowing into the soil, "is not neutral—for others, at least."
The darkness thickened.
"But it can be made to remember who it belongs to."
The earth shuddered again.
And somewhere beneath their feet—
Something vast began to stir.