The enemy charged across the narrow stone bridge, weapons drawn, war cries echoing over the roar of the waterfall.
Twenty fighters—maybe more—surging forward in a chaotic rush, their green-flag armbands identifying them as the neighboring team.
They looked confident.
Aggressive.
Stupid maybe.
Because waiting for them at the center of the bridge, perfectly positioned, were Niko and Seraphina.
And they weren't moving.
◆ ◆ ◆
Kael stood near the base wall watching the scene unfold with a little bit of interest.
He was curious about how a fight between this many people would look, especially since there was magic involved.
Beside him, Rylen leaned casually against the stone, arms crossed, that ever-present smile still plastered across his face.
"Should we, uh... help?" Kael asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
Rylen tilted his head thoughtfully. "Do you want to help?"
"Not really. They look capable enough."
"Then no." Rylen gestured toward the bridge. "Besides, your right I don't think they need us."
Kael followed his gaze.
Niko stood at the front, his blue uniform pristine, his posture relaxed. Mana was already gathering around him—faint at first, then brighter, coalescing into glowing geometric patterns that spun slowly in the air.
Behind him, Seraphina had drawn her sword.
The blade caught the light, gleaming like polished silver, and her single violet eye was locked onto the approaching enemies with the kind of focus that made grown men reconsider their life choices.
"Yeah," Kael muttered. "I think they've got this."
"Want to make a bet?" Rylen asked suddenly.
Kael glanced at him. "On what?"
"How long it takes them to win."
"...You're betting on our own team?"
"I'm betting on them specifically." Rylen's grin widened. "I say thirty seconds. Total."
Kael chuckled. "That's optimistic."
"Is it, though?" Rylen gestured toward the bridge again. "Look at them. Really look."
Kael did.
And he had to admit—Rylen had a point.
Niko and Seraphina weren't just standing there.
They were basically aura farming with those postures.
And from the looks of things, just two of them where planning on receiving the attack.
"Alright," Kael said slowly. "Forty-five seconds."
"Deal."
They shook on it.
And then the enemy reached the bridge.
◆ ◆ ◆
The first enemy—a broad-shouldered Knight with a war axe—charged straight at Niko, roaring, his weapon raised high.
Niko didn't move.
He just raised one hand.
The mana around him pulsed.
And a barrier of shimmering light materialized directly in front of the charging Knight.
CRACK.
The Knight slammed into it at full speed, the impact so violent that the sound echoed across the entire battlefield. His weapon flew from his hands, clattering uselessly onto the stone. He collapsed backward, dazed, blood streaming from his nose.
Before he could recover, Seraphina was already moving.
She crossed the distance in two strides—impossibly fast—her blade flashing in a clean, brutal arc.
The Knight's eyes went wide.
And then he vanished—his body dissolving into golden light as the death mechanic activated.
First kill.
Ten seconds.
The remaining enemies hesitated—just for a heartbeat—their confidence faltering.
And that hesitation was fatal.
Niko's hand moved again, fingers tracing patterns in the air with surgical precision.
Three glowing sigils appeared above the bridge, spinning rapidly, and from each one erupted a lance of compressed mana—blazing blue-white streaks of energy that tore through the air like arrows.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Three enemies went down, their bodies flickering and vanishing before they even hit the ground.
Sixteen left.
Seraphina didn't wait.
She launched herself forward, her blade singing through the air, each strike precise and devastating.
She moved like water—fluid, unstoppable, adapting instantly to every attack thrown at her.
A spear thrust toward her chest. She sidestepped, her sword flashing upward, disarming the attacker in a single motion. A follow-up strike, and they were gone.
An enemy Mage began channeling a spell. Seraphina closed the distance before they could finish, her blade cutting through the construct mid-cast. The Mage's eyes widened in shock.
Gone.
Twelve left.
Behind her, Niko was already casting again.
This time, the mana around him condensed into a massive sphere—crackling with energy, unstable, dangerous—and with a sharp gesture, he launched it forward.
It detonated in the center of the enemy formation.
BOOOOM.
The explosion of light and force sent bodies flying, some vanishing mid-air, others crashing into the stone and scrambling desperately to retreat.
Six left.
The survivors broke.
They turned and ran, abandoning the bridge, their formation shattered, their confidence obliterated.
But Niko and Seraphina didn't pursue.
They just stood there, watching, as the enemy retreated into the forest.
Silence fell.
And then, from behind them, scattered cheers erupted from their own team—Knights and Mages alike, stunned by the sheer brutality of what they'd just witnessed.
They didn't even get a chance to act.
Niko lowered his hand, his expression calm, unbothered, like he'd just finished a light workout.
Seraphina sheathed her sword, her gaze still locked on the retreating enemies.
"Clean," she said simply.
"Efficient," Niko agreed.
They exchanged a brief nod—mutual respect, silent understanding—and turned back toward the base.
◆ ◆ ◆
Near the wall, Kael stood frozen, his jaw slightly slack.
"...Okay," he said slowly. "That was terrifying."
Rylen was grinning like a madman. "Wasn't it beautiful? The synchronization! The timing! The efficiency!" He clapped his hands together. "I think I'm in love."
Kael glanced at him suspiciously. "With who?"
"Both of them. Platonically. Maybe."
"You're weird."
"I know."
Kael shook his head, turning his attention back to the bridge. "How long was that?"
Rylen checked an imaginary watch. "Twenty-eight seconds."
"...You win."
"I usually do."
◆ ◆ ◆
Seraphina's voice rang out across the courtyard, sharp and commanding.
"You three!" She pointed toward three Knights. "Take seven others and move out. The enemy base is wide open. Retrieve their flag. Now."
Garrick—the broad-shouldered tank—nodded immediately, already rallying the others.
Within seconds, a strike team of ten was assembled and moving across the bridge, disappearing into the forest toward the enemy base.
Niko turned toward his Mages. "Support team, reinforce the perimeter. Combat mages, prepare yourselves in case we have other visitors."
The team moved with newfound confidence, the chaotic energy from before replaced by focused efficiency.
Kael watched it all unfold, still processing what he'd just witnessed.
"So," Rylen said cheerfully, still leaning against the wall. "Think we'll actually have to do anything this entire test?"
Kael thought about it.
Then shrugged. "Probably not."
From the watchtower, another shout echoed down.
"STRIKE TEAM REPORTING! ENEMY BASE SECURED! FLAG CAPTURED!"
Cheers erupted across the courtyard—louder this time, triumphant.
And Kael, still standing on the sidelines with Rylen, sighed.
"Well," he muttered. "That was easy."
Rylen's smile sharpened. "Don't jinx it."
◆ ◆ ◆
The strike team returned twenty minutes later, triumphant, carrying the enemy's green flag like a trophy.
The team celebrated—briefly—before Niko and Seraphina called everyone back to order.
"One flag down," Niko said, his tone measured. "Five hundred ninety-nine to go."
"Don't get comfortable," Seraphina added, her gaze sweeping across the team. "That was the weakest team we'll probably face, they had no coordination and lacked a leader. The next one won't be so easy."
The celebration died down.
Reality settled back in.
But for now—just for this moment—they'd won.