"Go get the boy."
The command was spoken softly, yet it carried a weight that made the very air tremble. The ancient trees of the forest shuddered, their leaves rustling as if whispering warnings to those who dared trespass.
Ashborn felt it. So did Aelwyn.
They were being hunted.
The forest, which had been teeming with the distant chirps of crickets and rustling of leaves, now felt eerily silent. The night air grew thick, suffocating, pressing down on them as if the trees themselves were conspiring to slow their escape.
The wind howled past them as they raced through the twisting paths of the forest, the hooves of their steed pounding against the earth in a frantic rhythm. Shadows danced wildly with every flicker of moonlight breaking through the canopy.
And then, without warning—
BOOM!
A deafening crash tore through the air as an enormous boulder, large enough to flatten a house, came hurtling toward them, uprooting trees and obliterating everything in its path
The deafening roar of destruction echoed through the night.
"Sir Adam, ther—!" Ashborn barely had time to warn Adam before the knight had already acted.
"I know."
With a single swing of his sword, Adam cleaved the boulder into countless fragments. Sharp pieces of rock scattered through the air like deadly shrapnel. But before Ashborn could breathe a sigh of relief, his eyes widened in horror—a beam of mana shot through the falling debris, heading straight for him.
Time slowed. His muscles tensed. He tried to move, to dodge, but his body refused to keep up with his mind. The energy closed in, the air around it crackling with deadly force.
And then—
CLANG!
A flash of steel intercepted the beam. Sparks erupted as Adam deflected the attack, his stance firm, his face set in a deep scowl.
The knight gritted his teeth, his entire body tensed from the impact. A faint scorch mark burned on his armor, but he remained unshaken. His gaze locked onto the assailants—three masked figures, cloaked in black, floating just above the ground.
Ashborn barely had time to process what was happening before the assassins attacked again. The men surged forward, their hands charging with dark energy, preparing to strike.
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Adam frowned. He could tell their strength—they were no ordinary assassins. Each one held power comparable to a Sixth-Circle Mage. If he fought them while protecting the young master, their chances of survival would plummet.
He made his decision in an instant.
"Young master!" Adam''s voice was sharp, commanding. "Take Aelwyn and run!"
"Huh?! But—"
No time for debate. Adam leaped off the horse, his boots digging into the earth as he landed. With a swift motion, he handed the reins to Ashborn.
"Go. Now." His voice softened just a fraction. "Stay safe."
Then, without hesitation, he charged.
A blur of steel and mana, Adam met the three assassins head-on, the impact shaking the very air.
Ashborn swallowed hard. He wanted to argue, to fight, but he knew Adam was right. Staying would only get them killed.
With gritted teeth, he turned the horse and plunged deeper into the forest.
They rode in silence, the only sound the rhythmic pounding of hooves against damp soil.
Even with the magic robe concealing their presence, Ashborn wasn''t taking any chances. He heightened his senses, suppressing his mana until it was almost nonexistent. If those men could track them, he wouldn''t make it easy.
Then—
A flicker.
A shift in the air, just ahead.
Ashborn''s breath hitched. He tugged at the reins, slowing the horse to a quiet halt.
Aelwyn, still clutching onto him tightly, whispered, "What''s wrong?"
He didn''t answer. Instead, he slid off the saddle, motioning for her to follow. Together, they crept forward on foot, their bodies low, barely disturbing the undergrowth.
Then, voices.
Muffled, agitated.
Peering through the dense foliage, Ashborn spotted two figures standing atop the trees. Their cloaks billowed slightly in the night breeze, the glow of their enchanted masks casting an eerie light against the bark.
One of them kicked at a nearby branch, growling in frustration. "Bastard! Where is this damn mutt? We''ve been walking in circles!"
"Keep your voice down, idiot," the other snapped. "If the commander hears you complaining, he''ll have your head on a spike."
"Tch. I was promised some real action, not hunting down some snot-nosed brat."
"You''re an idiot. That ''snot-nosed brat'' is a dragon. The chief wants his core. You should know what that means."
Ashborn held his breath, listening intently.
"His core? Why?"
The realization hit him like a hammer. They weren''t just hunting him—they were harvesting him.
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. He forced himself to focus, to listen.
"Why does he need it, anyway?"
The second man chuckled darkly. "I could tell you, but then I''d have to kill you."
"Pfft. Like I care."
"You search this area. I''ll check up north."
One of them flew off, leaving only a single assassin nearby.
A shudder ran down Ashborn''s spine.
Their pursuers were experienced, dangerous, and far too close.
He turned to Aelwyn, whispering so softly it was barely audible. "We need to move. Now."
But the forest had other plans.
A sudden rustle—
A sharp twang—
*SHUNK!
An arrow tore through the air, narrowly missing Ashborn''s head. The razor-sharp tip grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
"AHHH! So close!" A voice rang out, playful yet laced with menace.
Ashborn spun around, pushing Aelwyn behind him.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping lightly onto the forest floor. He was tall, his face obscured beneath a hood, but his smirk was clear as day.
"Well, well..." The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "What do we have here?"
<To be continued...>