Amidst the gripping horror, the thunder of dozens of horses from the west suddenly broke the chaos, echoing with a menace unlike the marauders'. Entya, hidden behind the bushes, lifted her head and spotted a familiar red silhouette. It was the man she had seen at the spring.

Like a drawn curtain, a large group of mounted warriors surged into the battle arena. They wore black clothing with silver-gleaming metal shoulder guards, looking far more trained and disciplined than the enemies. Their movements were synchronized, their formation perfect, appearing as an indivisible unit. They were the Shadow Warriors of Talrakia.

Their leader, a formidable man on a black horse, was cloaked in a maroon mantle over dark purple. His wild, untamed, shoulder-length maroon hair resembled a lion’s mane. His sharp amethyst eyes scanned the battlefield with cold calculation.

"CHARGE!" The commander roared. As his golden eyes glowed, a sword of golden light materialized in his hand, radiating an ancient, dazzling aura. With a single movement, he lunged to the front line, leading his warriors.

"V FORMATION! SPLIT THEM!" commanded Nashr, his voice calm but absolute. His light sword was raised high.

"READY!" his troops responded in unison.

The Talrakia warriors moved like a perfect storm. Their swords flashed swiftly, clearing the chaotic Tam Mori, who broke ranks and shrieked, "RETREAT!" They hadn't expected to face such a strong force. Some tried to fight, but the Talrakia commander's golden light sword slashed with unexpected power, quickly incapacitating the enemies and driving them back.

Nashr quickly cut down the horde leader with his light sword, shattering the enemies' morale. The battle became a one-sided slaughter, and within minutes, the marauders fled into the dark steppe.

"Ghazi! To the right flank! Don't let a single one escape!" the commander ordered.

After the last enemy vanished on the horizon, Nashr halted his horse. He observed the silent battlefield for a moment, then the light sword shattered into thousands of golden light sparks that danced in the air before vanishing completely.

Entya watched everything from her hiding spot. An immense relief flooded her, yet she was also gripped by fear. She did not want to attract the attention of these mysterious saviors.

Carefully, she slipped away from the trees and hid among the piles of dry straw at the edge of the camp. Through a narrow gap, her eyes caught sight of Yul, staggering, being helped by Bataar, while Jochi, more severely wounded, was carried away.

Meanwhile, the red-haired commander stopped his horse. His amethyst eyes swept the camp, assessing the post-war damage. It was then that Entya felt the resonance, as strong as it was that morning. An intense, invisible pull, like two magnetic poles merging.

The commander's eyes stopped, exactly where Entya was hiding. He seemed certain of her presence. It was a sharp, intense gaze, locking onto her like a target. His eyes were alight with deep interest, as if he’d found a long-sought answer.

Entya felt the man's power tugging at her hidden healing strength. She held her breath, her heart pounding. His energy pull forced her to clench her fists and suppress the responding energy. She hoped the man would simply assume she was a scared little girl.

After an eternity, the commander gave a faint smile and dismounted.

"Commander," a warrior reported respectfully, "The Clan Elder wishes to welcome you."

Nashr simply nodded briefly, his eyes now fixed on Elder Eldeghai, who was walking toward him, his face filled with both relief and caution.

The maroon-haired man looked at Eldeghai, his expression calm. He then opened his mantle, handing it to a shadow warrior. Beneath the mantle was luxurious Persian attire in a mix of maroon, brown, ivory, and deep purple. A vertical gold line earring glinted on his right ear.

"Welcome, Sir," Elder Eldeghai greeted, bowing respectfully, followed by the remaining Salkha warriors. "We owe you and your warriors our lives. Who is it that has saved our village from this destruction?"

The shadow warrior who received the mantle, Ghazi, stepped forward. "My respects, Elder. Allow me to introduce, this is Lord Nashr, Commander of the Talrakia forces."

A whisper of disbelief spread among the Salkha warriors. A commander from the desert country of Talrakia?

Eldeghai, though surprised, quickly composed himself. He bowed deeper. "It is a great honor for us, Sir. Please come into our ger. The night is cold, and many things need to be discussed."

Nashr nodded, his gaze once again sweeping toward the pile of straw where Entya was hiding, as if confirming something. Then, without saying a word, he followed Elder Eldeghai into the main ger.

While Elder Eldeghai welcomed the village's savior, the villagers tended to the victims. In the crowded emergency ger filled with the mixed scent of blood, herbs, and fear, Entya, Beihe, Gerel, and several other clan women moved quickly among the wounded warriors.

Entya rushed to Yul, who was deathly pale with a deep, gaping chest wound. Entya wasted no time. She knelt by Yul's side, placing both her hands on the terrible wound. This time, the energy Resonance she felt from the foreign commander actually helped her. Instead of fading, the resonance seemed to fill her strength. The warm energy in Entya's palms glowed brighter, felt stronger, and spread quickly across Yul's chest.

A gentle light began to emanate from Entya's hands, enveloping Yul's wound. The women and Salkha warriors inside the ger were stunned. They stared at Entya, a girl they considered frail, now radiating a healing light they had never seen before.

Under that touch, the bleeding immediately stopped, and the wound began to close with impossible speed. The process was fast, far faster than could be achieved by ordinary potions or herbs. Yul took a deep breath, opening his eyes in confusion.

Just as Entya managed to stabilize Yul's condition, a sound of weeping, which turned into a pitiful wail, drew everyone's attention in the ger.

"Jochi! Wake up! Please!"

It was Gerel, kneeling in another corner of the ger, trembling beside Jochi, whose stomach was covered by a bandage soaked in dark blood.

Entya placed her hands on Jochi's fatal wound. She tried to summon the same Resonance, the same warmth, but felt only emptiness. Her healing energy was too weak to overcome the internal damage. Jochi's wound was too deep.

"No... no..." Gerel murmured, hugging Jochi's head. Tears soaked her face, which had always been cheerful.

Entya looked at Beihe, her eyes pleading. Beihe only shook her head sadly. They were too late. Jochi's eyes, which had always been full of spirit and laughter, stared blankly at the ceiling of the emergency ger. With one last trembling breath, Jochi, Gerel's husband, the young warrior pride of the clan, closed his eyes forever.

Gerel's crying broke out, a heart-wrenching wail that shook the entire ger. That night, amidst the wreckage of battle, Gerel lost half of her life.

Entya stood there, her light-filled hands now feeling cold and useless. She had saved Yul, but she failed to save Jochi. And Gerel's blank gaze, now hugging her husband's lifeless body, became a painful reminder.

She couldn't save everyone.