Chapter 251: Rally
The horns had not yet died when the enemy came.
Shapes streaked out of the mist beyond the ridge, fast and low, cutting across the open field like knives. They broke from the darkness in precise formations, boots slapping the dirt in unison. Scouts — not ragged raiders, not desperate bandits, but trained fighters. Their curved blades caught the glow of campfires and torchlight, glinting like wolf’s teeth in the gloom. The way they moved — sure-footed, measured, predatory — told every watching eye this was no random raid. They weren’t here to sack the camp. Not yet. They were here to measure it. To test the cadets. To bleed them before the true storm arrived.
The first arrow whistled over the barricades. It hissed into a stacked crate, shuddering the wood. A second followed an instant later, then a third, each one thudding sharp and final into tents and timber.
The line wavered. Fear spilled raw through the students, a ripple racing like fire through dry grass.
"Shields up!" an instructor bellowed, voice hoarse from urgency. "Defensive line—"
He didn’t finish. His command was drowned in the scream of a boy struck across the arm. Blood sprayed, steel flashed, and then the enemy was upon them.
Scouts vaulted the makeshift barricades with terrifying ease. Their blades struck fast and close, movements practiced and efficient. Cadets scattered like frightened deer. Some stumbled back, faces white as bone, hands shaking too hard to keep their weapons steady. Others lunged forward in blind panic, blades swinging wild. But wild steel only clashed uselessly against disciplined parries, and more than one cadet was shoved to the dirt, disarmed before they realized they’d even been struck.
Chaos reigned.
Through it, Byun appeared at Jae’s shoulder, grin already plastered across his face, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment all night. His pale hair gleamed under torchlight, his shadow stretching unnaturally long across the churned earth, twitching like it hungered. Dark energy licked lazily from his palm, alive and eager.
"Well, well," Byun drawled, ducking a stray arrow with infuriating ease. "Midnight guests. And here I thought we were boring company."
"Pick your target," Jae said flatly. His red eyes narrowed, smirk tugging faintly at his lips as flames curled hungrily up his forearm.
Byun’s grin sharpened. "Oh, I intend to. Though I was really hoping they’d at least bring wine."
The Dragonfire Blade roared into being. Heat flared like the opening of a forge, the weapon bursting from his grip as a torrent of fire shaped into a blade. The blaze lit the night, scattering shadows into sharp relief, searing the eyes of cadets and enemies alike. For a moment the battlefield froze. The nearest scout faltered, staggered back, thrown off balance by the sheer wave of heat radiating from the blade.
Jae moved.
One sweep and the blade cleaved through air, trailing fire in its wake. The strike consumed the scout, flames wrapping him in a shrieking pyre before he crumpled to the dirt. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Jae pivoted without pause, Ember Step igniting under his feet. Smoke and cinders blurred his form as he vanished and reappeared behind another fighter, his blade carving a wall of flame that split the charge clean in two.
Cadets froze. Panic paused. Even fear itself seemed to hesitate. The chaos raging through camp stilled just long enough for them to see him: unflinching, controlled, smirk unwavering, fire licking harmlessly across his skin.
"Shields up," Jae commanded. He didn’t shout. His tone was calm, precise, steady — and it carried clean through the din. "Spears behind them. Mages—burn everything that moves."
It wasn’t the order that mattered. It was the weight of it.
This time, the cadets obeyed. Almost instinctively. Like his calm had cut through the fog choking them. They scrambled into position, shields locking into place, spears bristling through the gaps. Mages who had stood frozen seconds earlier now raised their hands, sparks flaring nervously at first, then stronger, catching into proper flames.
Byun’s laughter rang sharp over the renewed din. He flicked his hand, and his shadow lunged like a whip, coiling around an enemy’s ankle. The scout stumbled forward, yanked from his feet, face-first into the dirt. "Oh, did you see that?" Byun crowed, eyes glinting. "He ate dirt before I even had to try."
He glanced sidelong at Jae, grin wicked. "Maybe I should let you handle all the dramatic moves. Don’t want to steal your spotlight."
Jae’s smirk deepened. His flaming blade came down in a ruthless arc, splitting another foe cleanly, fire devouring the man’s scream. He glanced at Byun briefly, voice calm even mid-battle. "Then keep up."
The clash erupted in earnest.
Scouts pressed hard against the line, their curved blades striking relentlessly. Arrows hissed down in ragged volleys, clattering against raised shields. The cadets grunted and staggered but they held — because this time, they weren’t scattered prey. They had shape. They had focus. Their fear was still there, raw in their eyes and ragged in their breaths, but it no longer ruled them.
"Push forward!" an instructor roared, taking courage from the sight of Jae himself in the thick of it.
And forward they did. Spears jabbed, forcing enemies to stumble back. Magic crackled from behind the lines, bolts of fire and wind and raw force slamming into advancing scouts. Every strike was clumsy, untrained, but together it created pressure. For the first time, the cadets looked like a unit instead of a mob.
Byun slipped through their ranks like a shadow given flesh, darting where gaps opened, his laughter echoing every time another scout hit the ground. Jae carved wide arcs through the battlefield, his blade setting the very air alight. With every step he took, cadets seemed to find their footing again, eyes hardening, grips firming.
The battle still raged — arrows still hissed, blood still spilled, screams still cut the air — but the terror that had threatened to break them apart was tempered now.
Tempered by fire.
Tempered by the image of Jae standing at the center, immovable.