Above the ruined harbor, Aldric's hand remained raised.
Blood-forged spears continued to fall—relentless, precise, merciless.
Each impact erased another defense line. Another tower. Another rune battery.
The mountain groaned beneath the assault. Stone split open. Fire spread in jagged veins. Smoke surged upward in thick, suffocating waves.
Below, the carved docks had become a graveyard of shattered structures and broken formations.
Men ran in every direction.
Some toward the ships.
Some away from them.
Most with no idea where safety even existed anymore.
And still—Aldric did not stop.
His crimson gaze remained fixed on the cliffside. Cold. Detached.
Like he was only a breath away from tearing the entire mountain from its roots.
Then—
Lyriana's voice cut cleanly through the destruction.
"Gently."
Not sharp.
Not urgent.
But absolute.
Aldric's eyes shifted slightly toward her.
She hovered beside him, composed as ever. Her hair moved softly in the heated wind. The cat on her shoulder narrowed its eyes at the chaos below. The slime in her palm gave a small, uneasy tremor.
She met his gaze without concern.
"If you keep going like this," she said evenly, "you'll destroy the ships too."
A brief pause.
"And then this entire trip becomes pointless."
The cultist immediately nodded—far too fast.
"Exactly," she added quickly, gesturing toward the docks. "That's what I've been saying. If you destroy the port, you destroy the airships, and if you destroy the airships, then Lord Draven is still stuck in there and—"
Aldric looked at her.
Just once.
She stopped talking immediately.
Silence settled between them, broken only by distant explosions and the crackle of fire.
Then Vaelith spoke.
Quiet. Precise.
"The ships."
Her gaze shifted toward the inner harbor, where the three massive vessels remained intact, their hulls dark and unbroken despite the destruction around them.
The cultist blinked.
"…Wait."
She leaned forward, squinting.
"…You were avoiding them?"
Aldric lowered his hand slowly. The remaining spears dissolved into drifting red mist.
His expression did not change.
"I'm not stupid."
The cultist stared at him for a second.
Then snorted.
"…Debatable."
Aldric's eyes flicked toward her again.
She coughed.
Looked away.
"…Right. Noted."
Below, the port was broken.
Defenses annihilated.
Hidden emplacements erased.
Soldiers scattered.
But the inner dock—where the three airships remained—still stood.
Damaged, but functional.
Lyriana's eyes sharpened.
"There."
She pointed toward the largest vessel.
Black hull. Reinforced frame. Imperial construction.
"That one."
Vaelith gave a small nod.
"It's built for long-range travel."
The cultist leaned in again, focus returning.
"…And that's probably where they keep navigation logs."
Aldric looked down at the regrouping guards near the ships. At the flickering inner barrier struggling to hold.
Then a faint smile touched his lips.
Not warm.
Not kind.
Interested.
"Good."
He rolled one shoulder slightly. Blood mana stirred faintly around him again.
"Then we stop wasting time."
Below, alarms rose to a sharper pitch.
Because the defenders had realized something worse than the destruction itself.
The real threat—
was descending.
They landed without urgency.
Without hesitation.
With certainty.
Aldric touched down first, boots meeting broken stone with a dull crack.
Lyriana followed, light as air. The cat leapt from her shoulder to the ground, tail flicking once. The slime remained curled in her palm.
Vaelith descended next, steady and silent, the two sleeping children still undisturbed in her arms.
The cultist came last, glancing around at the devastation with barely concealed awe.
"…You really flattened half the mountain…"
No one answered.
Because ahead, the ships loomed.
Massive.
Silent.
Waiting.
The largest stood apart—dark, reinforced, humming faintly with stored power.
The one they needed.
Aldric began walking toward it.
Slow.
Unstoppable.
The others followed.
No guard stepped forward to meet them.
The survivors stood frozen—bloodied, shaken, weapons in hand but useless.
Because after what they had witnessed—
they understood.
Resistance was death.
Then—
movement.
Fast.
Precise.
A figure burst from the side.
A blade flashed.
A perfect, lethal arc aimed directly at Aldric's neck.
Before steel could touch flesh—
FWUM.
A crimson barrier formed.
Thin.
Flawless.
The blade struck it—
and stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
The force of the impact blasted outward, splintering wood and scattering debris. The cultist stumbled half a step back.
Aldric didn't move.
The attacker landed in front of him, sliding slightly from the recoil.
A man.
Dark-skinned. Short black hair. Eyes cold and focused.
His build was lean, but every movement carried restrained lethality.
In his hand, a black blade hummed with condensed mana.
Not ordinary.
Behind him, two more figures emerged.
A woman in robes, staff already raised, runes circling its tip in steady rotation. Calm. Prepared.
And a broad-shouldered swordsman, scar over one eye, twin short blades at his sides. One hand already resting on a hilt.
Not soldiers.
Not panicked defenders.
Professionals.
Aldric finally acknowledged them.
Crimson eyes steady.
Unimpressed.
"…So," he said.
A pause.
"Finally someone worth noticing."
The black-haired swordsman narrowed his gaze, lowering his blade slightly—not in retreat, but in readiness.
"You've caused enough damage," he said, voice low and controlled.
His eyes flicked once toward the burning ruins behind Aldric.
Then back.
"You're not taking those ships."
Aldric watched him for a moment.
Then smiled.
Small.
Empty.
"You bastards only showed up after I broke the mountain."
A pause.
"And now you think you can stop me?"
The air shifted.
Lyriana exhaled quietly, already losing interest.
Vaelith adjusted her hold on the children, calm and unmoved.
The cultist muttered under her breath.
"…This is going to get ugly…"
The swordsman raised his blade again. Mana flared along its edge.
Behind him, the mage's runes brightened. The second fighter widened his stance.
A formation.
Disciplined.
Coordinated.
Aldric saw it.
Didn't care.
His fingers twitched.
Blood gathered lazily at the tips.
His smile widened.
"Good."
The dock trembled beneath their feet.
Because unlike the shattered defenses—
these three…
might actually last long enough to make it interesting.