The Storm estate was in a hurry.

  Armor was strapped on, weapons drawn, bags filled with potions and everything that could be useful. Erin stood beside Lira, tightening the straps on his new Huntborn Carapace. Kael was leaning on the guest room wall nearby, arms crossed, watching it all quietly.

  Edric stood tall at the entrance. “We move now. The Salvantes won’t survive if we waste even an hour.”

  Selene gave a nod, face unreadable. Lira gave Erin a quick wink. “Try not to get stabbed this time.”

  “I’ll try,” Erin muttered.

  Their group rushed through the early morning streets, weapons clinking with every step. The city was tense. Civilians looked on from alleyways and windows, and the whispers had already spread.

  Today will be chaos.

  But they didn’t get far.

  As they reached a wide intersection on the path to the Salvante estate, a large group blocked the way, men and women in matching blue coats, armored in black leather, with icy blue pins marking their allegiance.

  “Icahn family,” Edric growled under his breath.

  Selene’s eyes scanned the group. “They brought their whole force…”

  And they weren’t alone. Moments later, another group emerged from the shadows, a ragtag group of fighters that dominated the underworld.

  The Gray Pact.

  Erin’s breath caught. “Two?”

  “They knew we’d go,” Lira said, her tone suddenly serious.

  The few civilians on the streets started fleeing in all directions. Shutters slammed closed. Footsteps vanished into silence. In mere moments, the Storms stood alone in an empty street, facing two of the DeCostas loyal hounds.

  From the Icahn side, a tall man stepped forward, his eyes cold and voice smug.

  “Turn back, Edric. Take your family and leave. The DeCostas are willing to spare you if you stay quiet and go home.”

  Edric didn’t move. “And how long would that last?” he called back. “Until we’re the next ones wiped out like the Krauss family?”

  The man smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’d be alive today. Right now, you’re marching to your death.”

  Selene stepped forward beside her husband. “We’re already dead if we stay quiet.”

  The Icahn man raised a brow. “So noble. So stupid.”

  From the Gray Pact side, a woman with jagged red tattoos covering her face walked forward. “I like stupid. It makes the kill easier.”

  Lira leaned toward Erin. “Is now a bad time to say I forgot to sharpen my dagger?”

  Erin gave her a sideways glance. “Really?”

  She grinned. “No. I just wanted to lighten the mood.”

  Edric raised his voice. “You’re making a mistake. We won’t be the ones dying today.”

  The Icahn man rolled his neck. “Then let’s test that.”

  He charged forward, fast and silent, his blade pointing at Edric. At the same moment, the tattooed woman from the Gray Pact rushed in from the side, her dual daggers spinning in her hands.

  Two level 6s. Both aimed directly at Edric and Selene.

  “Get ready!” Edric shouted, drawing his weapon.

  The Storms moved. Erin drew his sword, Kael stepped behind him without a word, and Lira’s hands lit up with frost.

  Then the street exploded into motion.

  The two forces clashed.

  The sound of blades echoed through the empty city streets.

  Screams, metal, and spells tore through the silence.

  Erin didn’t have time to think, two Gray Pact warriors rushed toward him from the right, both wielding daggers and bloodthirsty grins. They were fast, both Level 2, but Erin didn’t hesitate.

  He ducked under the first blade, his Huntborn Carapace deflecting the second attacker’s swipe. His sword slashed upward, clean through one man’s chest. The blood sprayed across the stone road. The other warrior shouted and lunged forward.

  Erin stepped to the side, spun, and buried his sword in the man’s side. A brutal twist. A scream.

  The man fell.

  Lira was close by, her incantations ringing out between bursts of ice magic. “Fulgoris Glacia!”

  A flurry of ice shards exploded from her hands, spearing a line of enemies down the street. She spun, flicked her wrist, and another incantation left her mouth, freezing the ground and locking another fighter’s feet in place before she sent a spike of ice through his chest.

  Erin turned, just in time to see Daveth leap over him, his family’s loyal guard, once chill and easygoing, now grim and focused.

  His sword caught flame as he slashed through a Gray Pact rogue, then sent a fireball flying over Erin’s head.

  The explosion lit up the street.

  Harlen stood at the frontlines like a wall, his armor gleaming as he roared and clashed against two level 4s and a level 5. His shield bashed one aside, his sword crushed another. He fought like a tank.

  Erin was stunned for a second. They’re really strong.

  A loud crash snapped his attention left.

  Kael.

  The half-beast had joined the battle.

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  Before the fight started, Erin had handed him a massive warhammer from the estate armory. Kael had taken it without a word, and now he was a blur of violence, smashing Gray Pact fighters into the stone like they were nothing. Even at half his strength, he was dangerous.

  He crushed a level 2 with a single swing. Another came at him from behind, he ducked low, spun the hammer, and sent the man flying into a wall. Bones cracked.

  Kael didn’t smile. He didn’t speak.

  He fought because he had no choice.

  If Erin dies, the slave seal would burn his soul to ash.

  Edric and Selene fought near the center of the street, clashing blades and spells with the level 6s from the Icahn family and the Gray Pact. The sounds of their battle were like thunder, shields smashing, swords grinding, magic detonating.

  Selene fired beams of light that forced the enemy to back off. Edric, with his heavy blade and shield, kept the Icahn leader locked down in a brutal duel.

  Neither side gave ground.

  Still no sign of Garrick.

  He doesn’t even know… Erin thought, breathing heavy, blood on his arms and armor. He’s still grinding dungeons… while we’re fighting for our lives.

  The battle raged on, with no clear winner.

  The street was a warzone.

  The sounds of battle hadn’t stopped for a single breath.

  The ground was scorched, soaked with blood, and cracked from magic and steel. Smoke drifted through the air, covering the city street.

  Erin stepped forward, blade in hand, his breath heavy. A new enemy approached, carrying a heavy saber.

  Level 3.

  The first real one-on-one fight against someone equal in power.

  The man smirked. “Ready to die kid?”

  Erin didn’t answer. He lunged.

  Steel clashed as their blades met in a shower of sparks. Erin ducked low, swept his leg to trip the warrior, but the man was fast, he jumped back and countered with a brutal strike aimed straight at Erin’s chest.

  CLANG!

  The sword hit hard. Erin staggered backward, but the Huntborn Carapace absorbed the blow. A deep dent caved in near his shoulder, but no blood.

  The armor held.

  Erin gritted his teeth and pushed forward again. He slashed, parried, blocked, and spun. His sword grazed the man’s thigh. The enemy roared, furious, and went for a wild overhead strike.

  Big mistake.

  Erin stepped into it, twisting his hips, and drove his sword straight into the man’s ribs before he could bring the saber down. The blade sank deep. The enemy gasped. Then fell.

  Dead.

  Erin pulled his sword free, panting.

  A scream made his head whip around. Harlen.

  He was surrounded, pushed back, bruises on his face and dents in his armor. Four enemies pressed in around him, including a level 5.

  Erin shouted, “Lira! Harlen needs help! Ice them!”

  Without hesitation, Lira spun mid-cast and pointed both hands toward Harlen’s position.

  “Frostum Lancea!”

  Two massive ice lances exploded outward, crashing into the attackers. One was impaled instantly, the others scattered. She followed up with a blizzard-like AOE that slowed them to a crawl.

  “Go!” she yelled to Harlen. “I’ve got your back!”

  Erin turned to the enemies Lira had left behind, four level 2s and a level 3. They didn’t wait for him to come to them.

  They charged.

  Erin raised his blade and gritted his teeth.

  The first attacker swung a blade, but Erin ducked and countered with a clean slash across the chest. Blood sprayed. Another came at him from the side, he took a hit on the back, the armor holding strong, but another dent added to the damage.

  He spun, kicked one in the stomach, then parried the level 3’s heavy axe. The force of it rocked his arms. The Huntborn Carapace groaned under the pressure, scratches and cracks showing now.

  It wasn’t going to hold forever.

  But Erin didn’t stop.

  He fought rough and desperate. Cuts and bruises lined his arms and legs. He pushed through, striking fast, finishing off one, then another.

  By the end of it, he was the only one left standing, chest heaving.

  Behind him, a loud crunch echoed.

  Kael.

  The warhammer in his hand dripped blood as he stepped into place behind Erin, eyes glowing faintly golden. Another Gray Pact warrior lay crushed underfoot.

  Kael didn’t speak, but he stood behind Erin like a silent wall, crushing any stragglers who tried to flank.

  The tide of the battle was shifting.

  All around, the forces of the Icahn family and Gray Pact were falling apart. Their numbers had thinned drastically. Blood painted the roads, and their formations collapsed.

  Meanwhile, the Storm family hadn’t lost a single person.

  Not one.

  That was the difference.

  The DeCosta lackeys relied on numbers. Most of their fighters had never fought in a dungeon, had never fought in a life or death. Their strength was external, given through energy shards, not earned.

  But the Storm family?

  They fought for survival. They bled for every level. Every spell, every blade, honed in real battle. Daveth and Harlen? Both fought in the army alongside Edric. All of them are trained killers.

  The air buzzed with tension.

  The enemies were faltering.

  The streets around the Storms were littered with bodies, burned, frozen, sliced through. The last of the chaos was fading as the enemy forces broke apart.

  Edric Storm stood tall, his blade dripping with blood, face stern and cold. Across from him, the leader of the Icahn family, a level 6 warrior clad in silver and red armor, knelt on one knee, blood gushing from a deep gash across his torso.

  "You should've stayed out of this," the man growled, coughing blood.

  "And let you slaughter allies who stood by us? No," Edric said, stepping forward.

  The Icahn leader tried to retreat, limping backward, desperation clear in his eyes. But before he could blink, shimmering white chains of light coiled around his limbs and locked him in place.

  Selene stood nearby, arm extended, fingers glowing. "You're not going anywhere."

  Edric didn’t hesitate.

  With one clean swing, his sword cleaved through the man's neck.

  The body slumped over, lifeless.

  A furious curse echoed.

  The level 6 warrior from the Gray Pact clenched her fists, glaring as his remaining men fell around him. “This fight’s over!” she snarled. “Remember this!”

  Then, she vanished into the crowd of her retreating gang, leaving the dead and dying behind.

  The Icahn family followed suit, trying to run. But the Storms weren’t done.

  “Don’t let them escape!” Edric roared.

  Kael surged forward, his warhammer smashing down like thunder, while Erin and Daveth flanked from the sides. Lira cast a freezing mist that slowed the runners, and the Storms picked them off one by one.

  It didn’t take long.

  The Icahn family forces were wiped out.

  It was over.

  Harlen was slumped against a wall, blood soaking his armor, dozens of cuts across his body. His chestplate was cracked wide open. He coughed, spitting blood into his palm, but still managed a weak grin. “Still alive.”

  Daveth knelt beside him, pulling out a small flame from his palm and pressing it to one of the larger gashes. Harlen clenched his teeth, groaning as the wound sizzled shut.

  “Won’t let you die that easy, old friend,” Daveth said quietly.

  Edric approached, kneeling beside Harlen. “You can’t fight anymore today. We’ll hide you.”

  He looked at Harlen. “Go to the north hideout. No one knows we still own it.”

  Then he turned to Lira. “Go with him. Make sure he gets there safely. Come back once you’re done and go to the Salvante estate. Be careful.”

  Lira nodded, already helping Harlen to his feet. “Don’t die before I get back, yeah?”

  “We’ll save the fun for later,” Erin grinned.

  With Lira and Harlen heading toward the hideout, the rest of the Storms gathered what little they had left. Potions, gear, whatever still worked.

  They didn’t have time to rest.

  Smoke was already rising in the distance, toward the Salvante estate.

  “They’ll be next,” Selene said, her voice grim.

  Edric sheathed his sword. “Then let’s move.”

  Without wasting a second, the Storms rushed to the next location, ready for the next battle.

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