Seren Valinea walked forward with unshakable resolve. Her steps were heavy but deliberate, and as she blocked the path of the carriages, silence fell upon the square. The armored soldiers at her side closed in around the central vehicle without needing a command.

Her eyes were cloudy, yet unwavering. Her chest rose proudly, her voice rang clear and sharp:

"Alvaren Deyros! Step out!"

The door of the grand carriage at the center creaked open slowly. A gray-haired, well-dressed man stepped out—aged, confident, and smiling. Every gaze locked onto him.

"Ah... Seren Valinea," he said with a mocking tone. "I was beginning to wonder when you’d finally come to visit."

Seren's voice echoed once more, shaking the square:

"Corruption. Attempted marriage to children. Tax evasion. Conspiracy with assassins. Slavery… and countless other crimes I’d rather not name. You are under arrest."

Alvaren chuckled. "Really? All that from a piece of parchment? What else do you have?"

Seren stepped closer. Her voice no longer threatened—it ruled:

"A letter has already reached my brother Arthur’s kingdom. His army is on the way. You either come willingly… or we drag you. You don’t get a choice."

The smirk on Alvaren’s face faltered. He reached into his satchel, pulled out a bronze horn, and blew with all his might.

In an instant, the silence shattered.

From rooftops, alleys, and passing carts, cloaked assassins erupted in every direction.

As Alvaren slammed his carriage door shut, he shouted one final command:

"Kill them all! Leave no witnesses!"

Seren’s eyes glazed for a heartbeat—then snapped back. She turned to the white-helmeted general and shouted:

"DEFENSE RING! Triple spear-wall formation, now!"

The soldiers moved with trained precision. The front line knelt, grounding their shields into the cobblestones. The second line leveled their spears forward.

As the battle erupted, Nujah frantically rummaged through his pack for anything useful. Suddenly, a hand gripped his arm.

Erian appeared from seemingly nowhere, holding a small bow and a few arrows.

"Here, big bro—take this. It’s not much, but it’s something."

Nujah looked up, startled.

"You… Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"Not now," Erian said quickly. "I came through the back passage. No one saw me. I’ll explain later."

Nujah narrowed his eyes.

"You—Never mind. This isn’t the time. Get downstairs. Hide. Don’t let anyone see you."

"Got it."

Erian vanished as swiftly as he’d arrived. Nujah gripped the bow tighter, steadied his breathing, and turned back toward the chaos—focused and ready.

The third line of soldiers fell back slightly to form an archer support line. Before the first wave of enemies could crash into the formation, the wall was complete.

Three assassins collided with the shield line. Spears shot through the gaps between the shields, piercing their chests clean through.

More attackers tried to leap over the wall, but the soldiers raised their spears upward—catching their bodies in midair.

Those attempting to flank the formation from the sides were cut off by a second group of spearmen, who attacked from behind in a crossfire.

Nujah lit makeshift fuses on glass bottles from his pack—Molotovs. He hurled them toward enemy choke points.

The bottles exploded on impact. Flames roared down three separate streets, trapping assassins in blazing narrow corridors.

Choked by the smoke, enemies began to lose sight of one another. In the confusion, some stabbed their own allies.

Three assassins managed to break through the shield wall. One was dropped instantly by a soldier in the rear line. Another was split apart by the general’s blade.

The last one charged at Seren. She threw her short dagger mid-stride—it struck the attacker’s throat with deadly precision.

On the left flank, a breach began to form. Seren sprinted to the opening, bracing a soldier’s shield with her own hands while he thrust his spear forward.

Many assassins tried to escape the flames by regrouping behind the stone path, but reinforcements arrived from the rear and trapped them in a closing arc.

One slipped through a narrow opening at the back—but a young soldier was waiting. He dropped to one knee and drove his spear upward. The assassin crashed lifeless to the ground.

From the mist, a final figure crept close to Seren. Just as the blade rose for a killing strike, the general dove in front of her, taking the dagger to his back. With a cry, he swung his spear and cut the attacker down.

At last, the street fell silent.

Only the crackle of flames could be heard. The bodies were still warm.

The battle was over. But Alvaren had escaped.

Seren stood gripping the bloodied haft of her spear, eyes fixed on the distance.

"I told you… they wouldn’t get through."

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