As Alex collapsed to the ground, unmoving, the group had no time to grieve.
The enemy stepped forward, cloaked in shadow and danger—unknown, and unrelenting.
The first man, cloaked in black robes, slowly reached for his hood and pulled it back, revealing long, pointed ears, deep violet eyes, and dark obsidian skin.
A Dark Elf.
"We were hired to eliminate that noble girl," he said coldly, pointing one of his twin daggers toward Cloe.
"Dark Elves…"
Cloe's voice faltered for just a second. "Where is she? Where's Lady Clara?!"
The Dark Elf gave a mocking smile.
"Still tracking her, of course. But we figured we'd clean up the small fry first."
He narrowed his eyes.
"And now more of you gnats show up, buzzing around her trail."
His posture dropped into a battle-ready stance.
"Fine. Let's get started"
In an instant, he lunged—his movement inhumanly fast, daggers glinting in the moonlight as he lashed out toward Cloe's neck.
Cloe barely reacted in time, leaping backward and raising her sword. Metal met metal with a sharp clang as she deflected the blow, forcing his daggers to bounce off.
The Dark Elf grinned, impressed.
"Not bad… for a beastkin."
His smile widened.
"Been a while since I had a good fight. Let's see what you've got!"
With a burst of momentum, he kicked off the tree trunk behind him, launching himself like a black arrow straight toward Cloe.
She caught a flicker of movement too late, His foot connected with her stomach, and she was sent flying, crashing hard into a nearby tree with a groan.
"Cloe!!" Marci cried.
Meanwhile, the Dark Elf's five subordinates sprang into action, closing in on the rest of the group.
Alex lay unconscious on the ground, blood staining his arm as the battle erupted around him.
"We have to protect Sophia!" Marci shouted, already firing arrows with deadly precision, his face pale but focused.
Sir John and Mr. Hex unsheathed their swords, stepping forward to confront the oncoming elves and form a protective wall in front of Sophia.
"...No… Alex…"
Sophia stared down at his collapsed figure, her hands trembling.
"He... protected me."
The elf's words echoed in her head.
Poisoned.
Sir. John let out a loud shout as he clashed with one of the Dark Elves, a fast-moving fighter who used two blades at once.
The elf's swords struck against John's shield again and again, each hit faster and stronger than the last, trying to break through his defense.
Meanwhile, Mr. Hex was locked in a duel with another elf who fought with a single sword.
Each time their blades met, sparks flew, lighting up the space between them. The sound of metal clashing echoed through the trees.
The other three elves stood back, watching the fight carefully. They didn't move, but it was clear they were waiting—studying the battle before stepping in.
"Not bad, for an elf! Are you holding up, Mr. Hex?" Sir John called out, panting as he deflected another blow and kicked his attacker, sending him crashing into the bushes.
"Same to you!" Hex replied with a grin as he knocked back his opponent's next attack.
"If we get out of this alive, we're getting a drink! My treat!"
Sir John smirked, raising his shield again.
"Tsk... let's see if we live long enough to make that happen."
On the other side, Cloe pushed herself up from the ground and leapt back toward her team with determined eyes.
"What's the situation?" she asked quickly, gripping her sword.
"Mr. Hex and Sir John are holding off the elves, as you can see," Marci replied, still aiming his bow.
He shot a glance toward the center of the camp.
"Alex… he's down. Only Sophia and I were safe."
Cloe's eyes narrowed.
The battlefield was a mess—outnumbered, injured, and caught off guard.
They hadn't expected to be ambushed so suddenly.
And they certainly hadn't expected their enemies to be non-human.
These weren't ordinary bandits or rogue fighters.
They were Dark Elves—fast, deadly, and ruthless.
Retreating wasn't an option.
But fighting head-on would be just as dangerous.
Just then, the Dark Elf leader stepped toward them, his twin daggers gleaming under the moonlight.
"Oh? Still alive after that kick?" he sneered.
"I was sure your insides would be mush by now."
Cloe said nothing.
But under her helmet, blood dripped from her mouth.
She lifted her head, breathing heavily—and then suddenly coughed up blood, the red staining the inside of her helm.
The impact from that earlier blow had clearly done damage.
Her armor was cracked, dented badly at the chest plate where she had taken the hit.
Yet even so, she didn't fall.
She raised her sword again.
At the same time, Sir John and Mr. Hex broke away from their duels and moved to regroup near Cloe, seeing that she had recovered enough to stand.
"Cloe, you okay?" Hex asked, panting, his sword still raised.
Before she could answer, the Dark Elf leader stepped forward again, clearly annoyed.
"Tch… this is getting boring."
He turned to his subordinates.
"You five, handle those men."
His voice was sharp and cold.
"Kill the men. Capture the girls."
A wicked smile curved across his face.
"We'll play with them later… then sell them as slave."
The other Dark Elves gave twisted grins, slowly closing in with their weapons drawn.
The air grew heavy.
"My opponent will be this beastkin," the leader sneered, locking eyes with Cloe.
And just like that, The fight erupted again.
In the middle of it all, Cloe glanced at Mr. Hex and Sir John.
They exchanged a single, silent nod—understanding exactly what needed to be done.
"Marci, take Sophia and run."
Her voice was calm, but firm.
"The three of us will buy you time."
"No! We can't just leave you—" Marci started to protest.
"That's an order!!"
Cloe snapped, eyes burning with resolve.
Marci froze.
His fists clenched at his sides. He didn't want to run—didn't want to leave them behind.
But he knew.
He stood up, grabbed Sophia's hand, and pulled her into the woods without another word.
"Damn it, they're getting away!" one of the Dark Elves snarled, already turning to give chase.
But before he could take a step—
Mr. Hex and Sir John stepped forward, weapons raised, blocking their path.
"You're not going anywhere," Hex said calmly, sword held steady.
"We'll be your opponents now."
Sir John's shield gleamed in the moonlight as he took a battle stance beside him.
The five Dark Elves didn't hesitate.
In a flash, they leapt forward, weapons flashing as they launched themselves at the defenders.
Mr. Hex was already in motion, swinging his sword with calm precision, deflecting one blow after another.
Beside him, Sir John held his ground, using his shield and sword to block and strike back with discipline.
The elves moved fast, too fast.
They split into two teams.
Three went after Mr. Hex.
The other two focused on Sir John.
Their light weapons moved like shadows, slicing through the air as they darted between trees, leaping from the branches like ghosts.
Still, the two men stood firm.
Holding the line for Marci and Sophia to escape.
Cloe stood face-to-face with the Dark Elf leader, the twin-dagger wielder whose speed had already proven deadly.
"Just give up already, beastkin," he sneered, flashing a grin as he suddenly dashed forward, his daggers slicing at her armor with terrifying speed.
"I don't want to ruin my plaything before I get to enjoy it."
"Shut up."
Cloe growled, swinging a powerful arm toward him.
But he was too fast. He slipped past her blow, slid behind her, and kicked her hard in the back, sending her staggering forward.
"So weak… for a beastkin."
The Dark Elf leader laughed, circling her like a predator playing with its food.
Cloe exhaled. Slowly. Calmly.
Then, without a word, she began stripping off her damaged armor,
Shoulder plates, gauntlets, the cracked chest-plate.
What was left on her was a white vest, covering her chest.
Her body was covered in yellow-orange striped fur, her frame powerful and battle-hardened.
Muscles rippled under her skin.
Her golden eyes glowed in the dark, narrow and piercing.
"You think I'm weak?" she said, voice low and steady, like the growl of a predator about to strike.
"Then let me show you what a real beast can do."
With a sharp motion, Cloe threw aside her sword, letting it crash to the dirt.
In its place, she raised her hands, unveiling her sharp claw.
She pointed one directly at him.
"You're mine."
Cloe's voice was cold and sharp, her claws gleaming as she faced the Dark Elf leader.
From a short distance away, Mr. Hex and Sir John caught a glimpse of her transformation—and froze for just a second.
"Wait… Lieutenant Cloe is a girl?!" Sir John blurted out, eyes wide.
"I'm less shocked about her gender—" Hex said, still watching in disbelief, "—I'm more surprised she's a beastkin!"
"Oi! Don't get distracted!"
One of the elves snapped at them. "Your enemies are standing right in front of you!"
The moment passed, and Hex refocused, lifting his blade again.
"You good to keep up?" he asked without looking at John.
Sir John gave a short breath and nodded.
"Not sure… but I'll try. At least Marci and Sophia made it out."
"That's enough reason to keep fighting."
Hex grinned. "Let's finish this quickly."
And with that, they rushed back into battle.
Cloe's speed had changed.
Without the weight of her armor or sword, she moved like a blur—faster, sharper, and now fully on par with the Dark Elves.
Her body flowed with beastkin precision, every motion wild and deadly.
Her weapon now?
Razor-sharp claws.
With a powerful leap, she lunged at the Dark Elf leader, slashing at him with both arms.
He tried to dodge—but he was too slow.
Her claws raked across his arm, tearing through leather and skin.
Blood splattered, trailing from the deep gashes she'd left behind.
The elf hissed in pain, eyes wide with surprise.
He jumped back, quickly pulling a cloth from his belt and wrapping it around the wound to stop the bleeding.
"Not bad… not bad at all."
A twisted smile returned to his face.
"Now we're talking."