A Few Minutes Earlier
"Hmm... why can't I communicate with nature in this forest? It's like it's completely dead. But the plants and trees are still green! It’s weird... and seriously, this place is way too dark, lol." Mixarnt let out a sigh.
"If I could just connect with nature, I could’ve found their base by now... I can't believe this forest is so freaking huge. I've been searching for seven hours already! Ugh, I'm hungry! And it’s almost dawn, too—huh?"
He suddenly froze in place. Just ahead, a massive fortress loomed in the distance. Numerous guards patrolled its perimeter. Then and there, he realized—this was Kaelzar’s base of operations. A grin spread across his face.
"I guess I'll charge in and cause a distraction while waiting for the others to arrive," he murmured to himself.
He recalled the last thing he said to Elyssia and the others before setting off.
------
"Wait! What's the signal?" Elyssia had asked.
Mixarnt had simply grinned. "You'll know it when you see it!"
Then, without another word, he had dashed off into the forest, leaving the others completely dumbfounded.
-----
Now, standing before the enemy stronghold, he cracked his knuckles.
"Hmm... gotta make this flashy. Hehe."
With a mischievous smirk, he charged toward the fortress.
The guards spotted him and blinked in confusion.
"A kid?" one of them muttered.
Before they could react, Mixarnt hurled stone knives at them with lightning-fast precision. The projectiles struck their targets, sending the guards reeling in pain.
Mixarnt slipped inside the fortress, moving like a ghost.
He immediately began wreaking havoc—
He flung wooden knives and stone blades at every guard in sight. Small sacks of fire powder followed, detonating in bright flashes of flame and thunderous explosions.
The fortress erupted into chaos.
The shockwaves from the blasts sent plumes of smoke and fire into the air. The acrid stench of burning wood and scorched flesh filled the corridors.
Panic spread like wildfire.
Guards shouted in confusion, their voices clashing with the sounds of shattering walls and collapsing debris. Metal clashed against metal as soldiers scrambled to arm themselves against the unseen assailant.
Mixarnt, meanwhile, darted from shadow to shadow, weaving effortlessly between enemy attacks. His agility made him almost untouchable—a phantom in the chaos. Kaelzar's fortress was now a battlefield.
"Stupid kid," one of the slender assassin criminals sneered as they charged at Mixarnt. They moved with incredible speed, easily dodging the projectiles he threw at them. Just as their blades were about to slice into him, Mixarnt drew his wooden sword and clashed with them.
One of them lunged, a razor-sharp dagger aimed straight for Mixarnt’s heart. He barely managed to raise his wooden sword in time, deflecting the deadly strike with a loud clang of metal.
Seizing the opening, the second assassin drove her blade toward Mixarnt’s side, aiming to pierce his defenses. Mixarnt parried with a grunt, his small frame straining under the force of the attack. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the sound echoing through the chaotic fortress.
Despite being outmatched in skill and experience, Mixarnt’s tenacity and quick reflexes kept him in the fight. His sword arm ached from the relentless assault, but he refused to back down, determined to hold out until his companions arrived.
"You’re gonna die here, kid," one of the assassins taunted, pressing his blade harder against Mixarnt’s wooden sword.
"Are you sure about that?" Mixarnt asked with a grin. In an instant, he conjured a mana attack at point-blank range. "Mana Wave!" he shouted.
A powerful wave of mana erupted from his body, surging through his wooden sword and overwhelming one of the assassins. The force of the attack caused the fortress to explode, debris flying everywhere. To Mixarnt’s surprise, the other notorious criminals managed to escape unharmed—some used magic to protect themselves, while others crawled out of the rubble, annoyed but alive.
Now, the battle had shifted to an open field, the fortress reduced to ruins. Mixarnt stood ready, his wooden sword in hand, as the criminals regrouped and prepared for the next round.
