Lucas held his breath.

The Baroness had already broken through first.

Her horse charged forward like a living projectile, the distance erased without hesitation. Every swing of her lance wasn't just an attack—it was path-clearing. The bandits in her way were blown aside, their formation shattered in a single straight line.

And at the very same time—

CRIMSON—!!

A red arrow streaked in from the rear.

Lucas saw the pattern now.

Every time the Baroness pushed too deep, every time a blind spot opened—

the Baron sealed it instantly.

One arrow.

One threat erased.

Never late.

Never excessive.

Lucas swallowed.

"…What the hell is this?"

His eyes moved rapidly, tracking the rhythm of the battle.

The Baroness was a pure fighter—breaking through, crushing forward, forcing the enemy to react.

The Baron was long-range support—controlling the field, locking down movement, erasing threats before they could even form.

Not coincidence.

Not improvisation.

This was… synchronization.

"They're… a party?" Lucas muttered under his breath.

"An actual fighter and support combo…"

As if hearing his thoughts—

The Baroness leaned forward.

Her lance gleamed.

"—HAA!!"

The spear slammed into the ground.

BOOOM—!!

A shockwave exploded from the impact point, pulverizing the legs of the already-mutated bandits. Massive bodies were hurled aside, their balance completely destroyed—

And in that same instant—

TWANG—!!

TWANG—!!

TWANG—!!

Crimson arrows.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each arrow pierced precisely into joints, necks, and chests.

Not killing.

Disabling.

Lucas's eyes went wide.

"…Insane."

This wasn't a noble couple who just happened to know how to fight.

These were two veterans who had once lived on the same battlefield.

Kuyiras roared, his enlarged body trembling with rage.

"AAAAGHHHHHHH—!!"

He slammed into the ground, forcing himself forward through the rain of arrows. One step—two steps—

But the Baron did not panic.

He drew his bow.

Not crimson.

Not silver.

Darkness.

Pitch-black energy gathered at the tip of the bowstring.

Lucas felt a chill sink straight into his bones.

"—!"

TWANG—!!

The black arrow did not fly straight.

It **curved** through the air, like a living creature—then stabbed directly into the ground in front of Kuyiras.

CRACK—!!

Shadows spread from the impact point, forming a dark zone that pressed Kuyiras's body downward.

The massive legs were forcibly halted.

The Baroness did not waste the opening.

"Now," she said softly.

Her horse surged forward.

The lance gleamed.

A single straight line.

And—

CRASH—!!

The lance struck Kuyiras square in the chest.

The ground behind him exploded.

The massive body was blasted away, smashing through what remained of the standing bandit line.

Lucas stood frozen, his chest rising and falling.

Before him—

The Baron stood calm, bow still raised.

The Baroness pulled her lance back, her horse letting out a low neigh beneath her.

Lucas wiped his face with a trembling hand.

…What is this? Is this a noble family, or a party boss raid?

Silvara glanced at him briefly.

The Voss family wasn't just strange.

They were dangerous.

---

The wooden stakes embedded in the bandits' chests began to throb again.

THUD— THUD— THUD—

Deep violet light pulsed harder, as if a second heart had grown inside their bodies. Muscles that had been torn apart slowly tightened again. Bones shifted. Heavy breaths sounded one after another.

But this time—

Kuyiras did not attack right away.

He stood upright.

Then… began walking forward slowly.

Each step made the ground tremble faintly, yet there was no attack. No roar. Only a straight, locked gaze fixed on a single person.

The one holding the bow.

The plan he had built with Aldric seemed to burn away, as if it had never existed in his mind.

"Bow wielder," Kuyiras's voice was low, hoarse, heavy with pressure.

"What is your name?"

The Baron frowned slightly.

He lowered his bow by half an inch—just enough to show this was not an attack.

"I am," he said calmly,

"Aleric Voss. Baron. Lord of the Voss lands."

Kuyiras's jaw tightened.

GRET—!!

"LIES!!"

The shout exploded, making several bandits flinch.

"I remember that crimson arrow!" he snarled.

"I remember it clearly!"

His eyes burned.

"Do you still remember Ras Al'Ghaulreth?"

The air around the Baron trembled faintly.

The Baron's brow lifted slightly.

"…You," he said slowly.

"One of Myolvidaraz's admirers?"

Kuyiras let out a short laugh—dry, bitter.

"Not an admirer."

He struck his own chest, right above the throbbing wooden stake.

"I am the son of one of Myolvidaraz's admirers."

"The son of the man you ended with that arrow."

Pressure fell without warning, crushing the lungs of everyone standing there.

At that moment— The Baroness pulled hard on her horse's reins.

Her expression changed.

This was no longer an ordinary battle.

She turned her horse and moved swiftly toward Silvara and Lucas. In one smooth motion, she dismounted.

"This horse," she said, patting the saddle,

"use it to escape."

The lance in her hand vanished, unraveling into particles of light. Lucas stared at her, still seated, his breathing not yet steady.

"…No," he said shortly.

"I want to see it."

The Baroness looked at him for a moment.

Then—she smiled.

"Very well."

"Forgive us, my son."

She turned back toward the battlefield.

"This is the first time we show our abilities… before your eyes."

The Baroness stepped forward.

The lance appeared again—this time gripped in her left hand.

Its tip was driven into the ground.

CLAK—!!

Her right hand lifted and spread to the side.

Fingers open.

A sigil appeared—but not ordinary light.

Its color resembled molten steel. Cold. Dense. Dimly gleaming.

The sigil slowly drifted away from her palm, stopping in midair. The Baroness's fingers stiffened slightly, as if gripping the air.

She moved her hand—like opening a cookie jar.

A simple motion.

The sigil hardened.

Condensed.

Turning into a large metallic sphere.

Then—slowly—it shifted to the right.

SPACE SPLIT OPEN.

From the rift—

THUD—

THUD—

THUD—

The sound of a horse's hooves.

A fully armored horse stepped out.

Its armor was silver, its mane a pale silvery white, soft light flowing between the plates. It lifted its head gracefully as it approached the Baroness.

Then— a woman's voice spoke.

"May I help you, my Queen?"

Lucas froze.

"…Huh?"

The Baroness let out a short breath, her expression relaxed—almost amused.

"Don't be so stiff," she said. "Ferri'el."

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