Slave traders II

Darius exhaled slowly, the world around him slowing to a crawl. His eyes glowed faintly as he zeroed in on the exact timing. He unsheathed his sword silently, the blade gleaming dully in the firelight. The leader's guard was about to shift, his stance preparing for a step forward. That was the opening.

In one smooth motion, Darius moved. He glided through the shadows, his sword poised for the strike. The moment the leader shifted his weight, Darius was there—his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. He aimed for the neck, the spot where the man's flow of energy weakened for a split second.

**SWOOSH**

The blade cut through flesh like it was cutting through air.

The leader's eyes widened in shock as his body went rigid, a strangled gasp escaping his throat. Blood sprayed in a fine mist, catching the firelight for a moment before splattering onto the ground. Darius caught him before he could make a sound, lowering him gently to the dirt. His heart thundered in his chest, but his expression remained cold, detached. There was no time to reflect on what he had just done. This was the first time he had killed anyone in this life—or the previous one.

He wiped the blade clean on the man's cloak, eyes flicking to the camp. No one had noticed. The guards were still patrolling, completely unaware that their leader was dead. Darius was tempted to search the leader's belongings but quickly dismissed the thought. If the slave traders had connections with demonic humans, all of their items would likely be marked by a curse meant to reveal the location of the unauthorized possessor. He quietly hid the body somewhere no one would immediately look for the leader.

Darius moved swiftly, using the shadows to slip toward the cages. The elves, dwarves, and demi-human slaves looked at him with a mixture of fear and confusion. He knelt by the lock of the cages, quickly yanking it open before anyone could notice.

"Free yourselves," he whispered, his voice low but firm. "Get the others out. Don't mention me. You were never helped." He waited for verbal confirmation from the slaves before using his sword to cut the mana collars that inhibited their ability to wield mana and defend themselves.

As the freed slaves started freeing their comrades, Darius—without waiting for a response—melted back into the forest, disappearing as quietly as he had arrived. Behind him, chaos would soon unfold—but by then, Darius would be long gone, leaving no trace of his involvement.

"What the—?" a guard shouted, but the freed captives moved too quickly. The man fell to the ground, unconscious. Some of the freed captives didn't need to be told twice. They fled into the trees, vanishing into the night, but the battle wasn't over yet.

The now-freed elf crouched low, her sharp ears twitching at the sound of footsteps ahead. Her heart still pounded from the shock of it all—she had been captured while on a simple stroll through the outskirts of the forest. She had wanted a moment of peace after training at the grounds, but the slave traders had been waiting for their prey. They swiftly overwhelmed her before she had a chance to resist. A hand on her shoulder, a whisper of mana, and then darkness was all she remembered before waking up in a cage.

She had been prepared to resist and find the right opportunity, but before she found the chance, she encountered him. In all her years, she had never met a human so devoid of mana that it made them invisible to her senses. It seemed he used this very trait to dispatch the slave trader's leader. He looked no older than the teenagers who were now heading to the academy's enrollment exams. The exam was held annually, and humans from every part of Duterra would travel to the central continent to try their luck. Many would pass through her village, which is why she knew about the exams.

Now, as her shackles fell away, the weight of freedom settled in her limbs. The dull ache in her wrists reminded her of the iron collar that had suppressed her magic, but now that it was gone, the mana inside her thrummed, waiting to be unleashed. Her gaze swept across the camp. The leader lay in a pool of his own blood, and the remaining slave traders were in chaos, confused by the sudden revolt.

One of the dwarves grunted beside her, his broad shoulders shifting as he rose to his feet. His face was scarred but determined, a look that spoke of a lifetime of battle and survival. Beside him, a demi-human with the eyes of a panther and the grace of a predator nodded to her, a silent understanding forming between them. They might have been enemies in another battle, but here they were united against a common foe today.

The elf's mana pulsed through her veins, reigniting a connection that had been dulled by captivity. The elves were known for their connection to the surrounding mana, which allowed them to become one with it. This made them extremely difficult to fight, as their stamina and mana affinity reached levels far beyond what humans were capable of. She reached into the well of her power, feeling the connection with the earth beneath her feet. It was a small blessing that this land still resonated with her mana. The trees, the wind—they were her allies.

As the slave traders became aware of the escape, one of them charged toward the captives, sword raised to strike. The elf sidestepped fluidly, her movements swift and elegant. She felt the pull of the earth beneath her, guiding her next action. A flick of her wrist, and the ground trembled beneath the slave trader's feet, roots bursting from the soil and ensnaring his legs. The man's cry was cut short as the dwarf barreled into him, bringing his axe down in a savage arc that ended the fight before it began.

"Nice one, elf," the dwarf grunted, casting her a brief nod of respect before turning to face the next opponent. His axe swung with brutal precision, cutting down another slave trader who was too slow to react.

The elf's eyes darted toward the sky, where wyverns circled, casting long shadows over the clearing. "We need to escape before those things get a chance to land," she muttered under her breath, knowing that if they didn't stop the wyverns from landing, the slave traders might still escape with some of their spoils.

One of the demi-humans—a beastman with wolf-like features—let out a guttural growl as he leapt toward a mounted slave trader, knocking him off his beast with a savage swipe of his claws. The slave trader tumbled to the ground; his cries drowned out by the battle that had now erupted in full.

The elf saw her chance and called upon the wind, the air around her swirling as she extended her hand toward the nearest wyvern. A gust of wind swept through the clearing, knocking the wyvern off balance, its rider struggling to maintain control. The beast let out a shriek before plummeting toward the ground, its wings tangled in the chaotic winds she summoned.

A slave trader rushed at her from the side, but the demi-human intercepted, claws flashing as he tore through the man's defenses. The elf nodded in appreciation but didn't stop. There were too many enemies, and despite their large numbers, the freed captives were still struggling with the slave traders' trained forces. The elf's thoughts drifted to the human who had saved her, realizing that he had really left after freeing them. Using his unique trait would have helped them escape faster, but she wasn't complaining. As a warrior, she had always been taught not to mock her savior.

"Where is the leader, we need him to subdue the slaves" shouted the slave trader who was fighting the now freed slaves.

"He is already dead" said the elf before she moved with the precision and grace, her feet barely touching the ground as she weaved between attackers, her mana guiding her. The battle raged around her, but she focused on freeing those still locked in cages—those who hadn't yet found the strength to fight back.

The dwarves were formidable, fighting shoulder to shoulder with the demi-humans. Their raw strength and resilience complemented the elves' speed and magic. Together, they began to push the slave traders back, though the fight was far from over.

But something in the air shifted. A scream, one of rage, echoed across the battlefield. The elf turned just in time to see one of the slave traders—massive, armored, and wielding a blade crackling with dark energy—charging toward her. This one was no ordinary slave trader; he was infused with demonic magic, his presence radiating power.

Her heart raced as she prepared to defend herself, the mana within her surging in response. She reached for the earth again, the ground trembling beneath her feet as she called forth vines to block his path. But he cut through them with a single swing, his blade leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

The dwarf saw the danger and moved to intercept, but he was too far. The slave trader's sword descended, and the elf barely had time to raise her own weapon. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, the force of the impact sending a jolt up her arm. She gritted her teeth, the mana within her flaring as she pushed back against his overwhelming strength.

"Elf!" the dwarf shouted, rushing to her aid.

"You said our leader was dead, it means you saw who killed him, I am going to capture you alive elf for questioning, it will be better for you not to resist." But the elf didn't respond. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the flow of mana around her, searching for a weakness in her opponent's defenses. With a burst of speed, she sidestepped his next attack, slipping past his defenses. Her blade flashed, and in one swift motion, she struck.

With a burst of speed, she sidestepped his next attack and drove her blade into the gap in his armor, just beneath his ribs. The slave trader let out a choked gasp, his sword clattering to the ground as he crumpled, defeated.

Breathing heavily, the elf pulled her sword free, the battle still raging around her. She glanced at the dwarf, who had reached her side, and then at the remaining slave traders. Their numbers were dwindling.

"We need to leave," the elf said, her voice firm. "We've done enough here."

The dwarf grunted in agreement, wiping blood from his axe. The demi-humans, too, were beginning to pull back, their eyes flicking toward the trees. The wyverns had been grounded, and the slave traders were in disarray. It was time to go before more reinforcements came.