Scy's POV
I felt them long before they reached the city.
It wasn't just the number of presences that made it obvious. It was the way they moved—steady, disciplined, and synchronized, like a single entity marching toward its objective. Unlike the assassins or even the Royal Guards, these people were not hiding their intent. They wanted to be seen.
And more importantly… they wanted me to know they were coming.
I stood by the window, quietly observing the horizon. The morning light had barely settled, yet the atmosphere already felt suffocating. Something was pressing down on the city, something invisible yet undeniable.
"They're close," I said.
Natalia, who had been watching me for a while, stepped closer. "How many?"
I remained silent for a moment before answering.
"…Enough to destroy this place if they wanted to."
Her expression tightened.
"So it's not just a group anymore."
"No," I replied calmly. "This is a response."
By the time we stepped outside, the city had already begun to change.
Merchants were packing up earlier than usual. Guards were stationed near the gates, their expressions far more serious than before. Conversations had turned into whispers, and even those whispers carried fear.
It hadn't been announced.
No alarms had been raised.
Yet somehow… everyone could feel it.
The calm before something breaks.
"They can sense it too," Natalia said quietly.
"Of course," I replied. "You don't need power to feel danger."
We didn't stay long.
There was no reason to.
If the battle happened here, the outcome was already clear. Even if I held back, even if I tried to control everything… there was no guarantee that the city would remain intact.
And I wasn't willing to risk that.
"We're leaving," I said.
Natalia looked at me in surprise. "We're not going to fight them here?"
"No."
"…Why?"
I glanced back at the city for a brief moment.
"Because if I do… this won't stay standing."
She didn't argue after that.
She understood.
We moved toward the forest, the same place where everything had begun.
But this time, it felt different.
Before, it had been a place of training.
Now—
it was about to become a battlefield.
We hadn't gone far when I stopped.
"They're here."
Natalia immediately tensed. "Already?"
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.
From the distance, they appeared.
Not rushing.
Not hiding.
Marching.
A formation of soldiers, moving with absolute discipline, their armor reflecting the faint morning light. Behind them were mages, their presence more subtle but far more dangerous. And at the center…
was a single figure.
He wasn't moving with the others.
He was walking slightly ahead.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Watching.
"…That's the leader," I muttered.
Natalia followed my gaze. "…He feels different."
"Because he is."
The formation stopped at a distance.
Not too far.
Not too close.
Just enough to maintain control.
The man stepped forward.
"…So you're the one causing all this trouble."
His voice was steady, carrying authority without needing to be loud.
I stepped forward as well.
"And you're the one they sent this time."
"…Correct."
He studied me carefully, his eyes sharp but not hostile.
"…You're younger than expected."
"And you talk more than expected," I replied.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"…Confidence."
"Just observation."
Silence fell between us.
But it wasn't empty.
It was heavy.
Measured.
"…I'll give you one chance," he said finally. "Come with us peacefully."
I didn't hesitate.
"No."
There was no anger in my voice.
No resistance.
Just certainty.
"…Then we proceed."
He raised his hand slightly.
"Formation."
The soldiers moved instantly, their positions shifting with precision that could only come from repeated training. This wasn't a random group. Every individual knew their role, their position, and their timing.
This was a system.
A structure.
"Stay behind me," I said quietly.
"…Scy—"
"Just trust me."
She fell silent.
The first wave came without warning.
Arrows cut through the air, followed by controlled bursts of magic. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was coordinated—designed to pressure, to test, to force movement.
I raised my hand.
Blades formed instantly.
But unlike before, I didn't flood the area.
I controlled them.
Each blade moved with purpose.
Deflecting.
Intercepting.
Neutralizing.
"…He's adapting," one of the soldiers muttered.
"…Maintain formation," another responded.
They didn't panic.
They didn't rush.
They adjusted.
"…Good," I whispered.
I stepped forward.
Not aggressively.
Not recklessly.
But deliberately.
The moment I entered their range, the front line engaged.
Their movements were synchronized, their attacks layered to cover each other's openings. Even if one failed, another would follow immediately.
It was efficient.
Dangerous.
CLANG.
I blocked one strike.
Dodged another.
Shifted my position just enough to avoid being surrounded.
"…So this is how they fight," I muttered.
They weren't trying to overpower me individually.
They were trying to control me as a group.
Limit my movement.
Restrict my options.
Force mistakes.
"…Then I just have to break that."
I raised my hand again.
But this time—
I didn't aim for them.
"…Disrupt."
The blades shot forward—not at their bodies, but at their positions.
At the gaps.
At the points that held their formation together.
CRACK.
Their rhythm faltered.
Just for a moment.
"…He's targeting the formation!"
"…Hold your positions!"
Too late.
I moved.
This time—
faster.
More precise.
SLASH.
One fell.
The line shifted.
But it wasn't enough.
I stepped in deeper.
CRASH.
The front formation broke.
Silence followed for a brief second.
"…So you figured it out," the commander said.
I looked at him.
"…Enough to win."
For the first time—
he moved.
And the moment he did—
everything else stopped mattering.
Because this time—
I wasn't facing soldiers.
I was facing someone…
on my level.