The forest no longer looked like a forest.

After days of trudging through twisted roots and broken earth, it felt more like a graveyard of trees — half-rotten trunks, endless mist, and the stench of blood that refused to fade.

The group was in shambles.

Armor cracked, weapons chipped, clothes torn. Even the proud knights of Hestia limped more than they marched now. The polished discipline they'd displayed on the first day was gone — replaced by the hollow-eyed endurance of men who had seen too much death in too little time.

Their carriages were long abandoned; the horses had been killed during the second ambush — devoured before anyone could react. From then on, they had been traveling on foot, dragging what supplies they could salvage. The constant monster attacks had grown worse the deeper they went — wolves with bone armor, serpents that moved through the mist, insect swarms that shredded through steel.

And yet… they pressed on.

Oliver trudged along near the center, his sword slung over his shoulder, body smeared in dirt and dried blood. His clothes were torn, but his stride was steady. The Rune of Vigor still pulsed faintly under his skin, keeping him on his feet when most would've collapsed days ago.

Behind him, Ariana staggered under the weight of her staff, her mana reserves nearly dry. She had been healing, shielding, and boosting nonstop. Every night she swore her head would split from the overuse of spells — and every morning, she forced herself up again.

Isolde walked beside Oliver, calm as ever. Her robe was tattered, the hem dark with blood, but her eyes were sharp — the same composed arrogance, as though fatigue itself dared not touch her.

Ronald led what was left of the knights — seven, maybe eight. The rest were gone. His armor, once shining, was cracked and blackened from acid burns. Yet he still walked tall, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

And at the center of it all walked her.

The girl who had been their "client."

Her once-elegant cloak was torn beyond recognition, her boots caked in mud. The mask she had worn since the start was gone, lost somewhere in the chaos of the fourth attack.

And when the mist cleared just enough for the group to see her face, Ariana had nearly fainted on the spot.

"El… Elisha Hestia…?" she had stammered.

The name had hit like lightning through the ranks.

The princess of Hestia Kingdom.

The first royal heir.

A figure worshipped in portraits and stories — now walking barefoot through the mud, her golden hair streaked with dirt and sweat.

At first, no one spoke. Then Ronald had confirmed it with a grim nod.

And that was that.

The revelation didn't change their circumstances — if anything, it made them worse. Everyone realized that the monsters weren't random anymore. They were being hunted. The ambushes were too coordinated, the timing too deliberate.

Yet no one dared ask why the princess was here.

Not Oliver. Not Isolde. Not even Ariana, who still couldn't believe her eyes whenever she glanced at her.

Oliver remembered her soft voice the day they first met — "We are sorry for earlier rudeness."

Now her voice, when she spoke at all, was low, tired, and burdened. The once-composed princess stumbled as she walked, but never complained. Ronald was always at her side, shielding her when the faintest growl echoed through the woods.

By now, even Oliver's curiosity was starting to burn.

He caught up to Isolde, keeping his voice low. "So. The Hestia princess, huh?"

Isolde didn't look at him, eyes fixed ahead. "You sound surprised."

"Can you blame me? I thought she was just some pampered noble. Turns out she's royalty walking through hell."

Isolde gave a quiet hum. "Royalty or not, she bleeds like everyone else."

Then, glancing sideways at him, she added, "And if I had to guess, she's not here for sightseeing."

Oliver frowned. "You think she's after something?"

"I know that look," Isolde said softly. "Determination mixed with fear. She's searching for something worth dying for."

He let that sink in.

Around them, the knights were muttering softly, tending to wounds during their brief stop. One of them collapsed near a tree, whispering a prayer before drifting into uneasy sleep.

Ariana sat close by, her staff resting against her shoulder, eyes still wide from earlier. She kept stealing glances toward Elisha as if to confirm she wasn't dreaming.

Finally, she whispered, "The royal princess… why would she come here of all places? This forest— even the maps don't name it."

Oliver didn't answer. He just looked ahead — to where Elisha was kneeling near a stream, washing the blood from her hands.

For a moment, the sunlight broke through the canopy, catching in her hair. Even dirt-streaked, she radiated a quiet dignity — a kind of strength that didn't come from magic or titles.

Whatever brought her here… it wasn't simple.

Isolde's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "We'll find out soon enough," she said, almost to herself. "Because this forest— it's not done with us yet."

A distant roar echoed from somewhere ahead, deep and guttural, shaking the leaves overhead.

The knights stiffened.

Oliver sighed, gripping his sword tighter. "Guess we don't get breaks anymore."

Ronald turned sharply, barking orders. "Form up! We move in ten minutes. No stragglers."

The group gathered their packs again, tightening straps, checking weapons.

As they began marching once more into the mist, Oliver threw one last glance at the princess.

She was already walking ahead, silent — her face set in grim resolve.

*****

They didn't even travel for an hour and a deafening roar sounded accompanied by raging gust of wind.

The forest shook. Trees bent under the weight of the monster's roar — a sound that rattled bones and split the air like thunder.

A Drake — a massive, wingless dragon with scales like molten bronze and claws sharp enough to gouge stone — tore through the clearing, its jaws dripping venom that hissed where it touched the ground. The moment it appeared, the knights' formation shattered. Horses screamed, men fell, and the air filled with the smell of burnt soil and blood.

"Form up! Shields front!" Ronald's voice roared above the chaos, his sword blazing with aura. The knights scrambled to regroup, but the drake's tail swept out, shattering shields like twigs. Several were thrown into the trees — their armor crushed.

Oliver barely managed to dodge the tail swipe, tumbling through the dirt. He rolled back to his feet, gripping his rune-engraved sword. "That thing's a damn fortress!"

Beside him, Ariana chanted, her staff glowing bright. "Incoming — Barrier of Aegis!" A dome of shimmering light enclosed the survivors just as the drake exhaled — a torrent of green fire engulfed the clearing, melting soil into glass. The heat was suffocating, the air itself trembling.

When the flames cleared, the barrier flickered, cracked, and shattered like glass.

"Not good!" Oliver barked, charging forward. The runes on his blade pulsed — faint veins of red light crawling up the metal. He slashed through the drake's foreleg, sparks and blood exploding outward. The creature screamed, its wings twitching instinctively though useless. Its tail lashed out again, a blur of bronze.

Oliver jumped, twisting midair, narrowly avoiding the strike — only to get hit by the shockwave. He crashed into a boulder with a sickening thud.

"Oliver!" Ariana screamed. She slammed her staff down, releasing a healing wave, but her mana was flickering, already drained from hours of battle.

Then — BOOM! A deafening blast shook the battlefield.

The source — Isolde.

She stood on a ridge, her long coat torn and fluttering. Her eyes glowed faint blue, the runic tattoo along her arm burning bright. The air rippled around her like heat distortion.

She raised one hand — Runic arrays spun into existence in the air, a dozen circles overlapping, each filled with intricate ancient symbols.

"Let's see how you handle this, lizard."

She clenched her fist.

"Elemental Convergence: Firestorm!"

The sky erupted.

Dozens of flaming pillars shot down like divine spears, crashing into the drake from every direction. Each explosion sent shockwaves through the trees, burning away the canopy. The drake screamed, writhing in agony, its scales glowing red-hot.

But it wasn't dead yet.

With a furious roar, it lunged — half-blind, half-mad. Its jaw snapped shut inches from Isolde, who vanished in a blink, reappearing behind it midair.

"Teleportation…?" Ariana whispered, awe-struck.

Isolde's palm lit up again — this time blue.

"Cryostasis: Core Shatter."

The air temperature plummeted. Frost spread from her fingertips across the drake's back. Its scales froze solid, steam hissing as heat and cold collided violently. She snapped her fingers. The frozen shell exploded, fragments of crystal and flesh scattering like shrapnel.

Still, the beast refused to fall.

It roared again, pure rage fueling it. Its claw slashed at Isolde with impossible speed — she barely managed to raise a barrier, but the impact sent her crashing into the ground, tearing a crater in the dirt.

"Damn it," she muttered, blood on her lip.

Ronald rushed in, his greatsword blazing with aura. "Cover me!" he shouted. The remaining knights surged behind him, spears thrusting in unison.

"Now!" he roared, leaping high, his blade glowing crimson. He brought it down in a single, cleaving arc — slicing through the drake's left eye. The beast howled, swinging its massive arm wildly, sending bodies flying.

"Retreat!" Isolde commanded, launching another barrage of runic lances that tore into the monster's chest. "Fall back now!"

She summoned another array, this one larger — glowing white with a faint violet hue. The symbols etched in light turned clockwise, releasing waves of pressure that made even the air hum.

"End of the line, beast." Her voice dropped cold.

"Runic Art: Cataclysmic Lance."

A beam of pure energy shot from her palm, ripping through the forest like a cannon blast. The drake roared one last time before the beam pierced straight through its chest — burning a hole clean through.

Silence.

The creature collapsed, shaking the earth as it fell.

Isolde dropped to one knee, panting, sweat beading down her temple. Ronald and the surviving knights were on guard, weapons raised, but the monster was motionless now — the threat ended.

But victory brought no relief.

"Where's Her Highness?" one knight shouted.

That single question froze everyone.

Ronald turned, eyes wide. "What?"

"She was thrown during the blast! We can't find her!"

Isolde's eyes snapped open. "Oliver—"

She turned, but he was already gone. His trail led into the darkness of the forest.

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