Chapter - 8 - Duel of Legends
Melromarc, Grand Arena
[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]
The grand arena of Castletown buzzed with anticipation. The stands were filled to capacity, with citizens from Castletown and the neighboring villages jostling for the best view. The noise was a cacophony of cheers, shouts, and excited chatter as people waited to witness what had quickly become the talk of the town: the duel between the Shield Hero and the Spear Hero.
Above the chaos, in the royal box, King Aultcray sat, his stern face betraying no emotion as he surveyed the crowd. Myne sat beside him, her face a perfect mask of concern, though her eyes gleamed with something far more sinister. The arena floor, wide and bare, gleamed under the morning sun, awaiting the combatants.
In one of the corridors leading to the arena floor, Ice stood in the shadows, his heart racing but his expression unreadable beneath his balaclava. He could hear the crowd roaring, feel the vibration of their excitement, but his thoughts were far away—trying desperately to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few hours.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he thought, grinding his teeth. This betrayal—by the king, by the princess—it was supposed to come much later. The briefings… He shook his head, trying to push down the wave of frustration that surged up inside him.
The briefings had been thorough. The Foundation had prepared him for treachery, but in those reports, the betrayal was a distant problem, something far down the line once the waves had started in earnest. He had been briefed on how the kingdom would turn against the Shield Hero, but not this soon. Not like this.
Ice's fists clenched tightly as he tried to piece together what had gone wrong. Did the timeline shift? he wondered. Did something I do cause this to happen faster? None of it made sense. He had expected a challenge in this world, but this… he had walked straight into a trap, and now he was paying for it.
The gate ahead of him began to rumble open, the sound reverberating through the stone. With a deep breath, Ice pushed his doubts aside and stepped into the arena.
The sunlight hit him like a wall, momentarily blinding him before his vision adjusted. The roar of the crowd was deafening. As his eyes focused, he spotted the royal box high above. King Aultcray, sitting like a vulture, watched with a cold, calculating expression. Beside him, Myne smiled sweetly down at the arena—though Ice could see the triumph in her eyes. She had orchestrated this from the start, pulling strings he hadn't even realized were there.
They think they've got me cornered.
Across the arena, the gates on the other side creaked open, and the Spear Hero, Motoyasu, emerged to the sound of thunderous applause. His golden armor gleamed in the sunlight, his spear resting lazily on his shoulder as he waved to the crowd with a wide, confident grin. His party followed behind, cheering him on as if he had already won the duel.
Ice's eyes narrowed behind his tinted goggles. Cocky bastard.
Motoyasu strutted forward, spinning his spear for show as the crowd chanted his name. Ice's fists clenched again. He had lost everything in a matter of hours—his reputation, his gear, and soon, if Myne had her way, his life.
He could feel the weight of the stares from the crowd. They were judging him already. He was the villain in their eyes, the outcast, the so-called "criminal" who had betrayed the princess. The murmur of disdain followed him like a shadow.
This isn't how it's supposed to go, Ice thought again, his mind racing. But I'm not dead yet.
His eyes scanned the arena, taking in the layout. It was a simple, open space, no cover, no obstacles—just him, Motoyasu, and a whole lot of angry people. He caught sight of Ren and Itsuki standing off to the side, their expressions conflicted. Neither of them looked particularly eager to see this fight, but neither were stepping in to stop it.
Motoyasu stopped a few paces away, his grin widening as he saw Ice's battered state. "You ready to end this, Shield Hero?" he called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. "It's about time you learned your place."
The grand arena of Castletown buzzed with anticipation. The stands were packed with citizens, their shouts and cheers blending into an excited roar that filled the air. People from the surrounding villages had flocked to the city, eager to witness the legendary duel between the Shield Hero and the Spear Hero.
In the royal box, King Aultcray sat in stern silence, watching the crowd. Myne sat beside him, her face a picture of concern, though her eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a master puppeteer. The arena floor, wide and open, gleamed under the sun, the stage set for what was meant to be Ice's humiliation.
In the corridor beneath the arena, Ice stood in the shadows, his heart steady but his mind racing. He could hear the crowd, feel the vibrations of their excitement, but his thoughts were elsewhere—focused on the betrayal that had come far earlier than he expected.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go, Ice thought, his fists clenching tight enough that his knuckles cracked. This betrayal was supposed to come later, not now, not when I haven't even gotten started.
The briefings had been clear. The betrayal of the Shield Hero was inevitable, but it was supposed to happen once the Waves had started in earnest—after he had established himself and gathered allies. But everything had fallen apart so fast. Myne and Aultcray had turned on him almost immediately, and now he found himself at the center of this arena, his reputation already in tatters.
Did something change? he wondered. Did I miss something?
None of it made sense. He was supposed to be in control, but the timeline had spiraled out of his grasp. His training told him to adapt, to find a way to turn this to his advantage, but that was easier said than done when the entire kingdom already saw him as the enemy.
The gates in front of him rumbled open, and the roar of the crowd grew even louder. Ice stepped forward, pushing aside his doubts and focusing on the present. The sun hit him hard, momentarily blinding him, but he didn't slow down. He stepped onto the arena floor, his eyes immediately scanning his surroundings. High above, in the royal box, Aultcray sat like a vulture, cold and calculating. Myne, the architect of his downfall, smiled sweetly at him, but Ice could see the smug satisfaction behind her eyes.
They think they've won already, Ice thought, his jaw tightening behind his balaclava.
Across the arena, the gates on the other side creaked open, and Motoyasu strode out to the cheers of the crowd. His golden armor gleamed in the sunlight, his spear resting on his shoulder as he waved to the audience, basking in their adoration. He grinned like he'd already won.
Cocky bastard, Ice thought, narrowing his eyes behind his tinted goggles.
Motoyasu strutted forward, spinning his spear for show as he approached. The crowd was on his side, jeering at Ice, calling for his defeat. He could feel their hatred, their disdain for him as the villain in this carefully orchestrated spectacle. His reputation was already in ruins, but now they expected him to fall.
Not today, Ice thought. Not like this.
Motoyasu stopped a few paces away, his grin widening as he took in Ice's beaten-down appearance. "You ready to end this, Shield Hero?" he called out, his voice full of arrogance. "It's about time you learned your place."
Ice stayed silent for a moment, letting the crowd's noise fade into the background. Then, with a calm voice, he replied, "I'm still standing, aren't I? Let's see if you can keep up."
The smug look on Motoyasu's face faltered for just a second before he chuckled, twirling his spear once more for effect. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't help you win."
Ice ignored him. His eyes scanned the arena, assessing the distance between them, calculating every step. The crowd, Ren, Itsuki—all of them were distractions. The only thing that mattered now was the fight.
"Begin!" King Aultcray's voice rang out across the arena, signaling the start of the duel.
Motoyasu moved first, lunging forward with a blinding burst of speed, his spear aimed directly for Ice's chest. The crowd roared in approval, already expecting the Shield Hero to be on the defensive from the very start.
But Ice wasn't here to just defend.
The moment Motoyasu's spear came within range, Ice sidestepped, raising his shield to deflect the blow with a sharp clang. The force of the impact reverberated up his arm, but Ice used the momentum to pivot, coming around the side of Motoyasu with a swift, fluid motion.
Before Motoyasu could recover, Ice drove his fist into the side of his ribcage, his gloved hand landing with a solid thud.
Motoyasu grunted in surprise, stumbling back a step, his grin wiped away by the sudden aggression. He wasn't expecting Ice to go on the offensive so quickly.
The crowd gasped. They hadn't expected the Shield Hero to land a hit so soon.
Motoyasu regained his footing, glaring at Ice with a newfound intensity. "You'll pay for that," he snarled, spinning his spear around in an arc and charging again, this time more focused.
But Ice was already moving. He ducked low, letting Motoyasu's spear sail harmlessly over his head. With a swift uppercut, he slammed the edge of his shield into Motoyasu's arm, forcing him to drop the spear slightly. Ice pressed the advantage, delivering another punch to Motoyasu's side, making the Spear Hero stagger.
Motoyasu recovered faster this time, swinging his spear in a wide arc, aiming for Ice's legs. But Ice was ready. He jumped back just in time, avoiding the strike and immediately closing the distance again, his shield raised to block any counterattack.
He's getting frustrated, Ice thought, noticing the growing irritation on Motoyasu's face. The Spear Hero was used to overwhelming his opponents with strength and speed, but Ice wasn't giving him the chance.
The crowd was growing restless, their cheers for Motoyasu becoming more frantic as they watched Ice hold his own—and more importantly, land hits on the supposed favorite to win. Ren and Itsuki exchanged glances from the sidelines, their expressions uncertain.
Motoyasu, now visibly annoyed, charged again, this time putting more power behind his strikes. His spear slashed through the air with deadly precision, but Ice's shield deflected each blow with practiced ease. Every time Motoyasu pressed forward, Ice would dodge or block, keeping just out of reach before countering with a well-placed strike of his own.
"Come on, Motoyasu," Ice muttered, sidestepping another wild swing. "I thought you were supposed to be better than this."
The taunt hit home. Motoyasu's eyes flashed with anger as he lunged forward again, overextending himself in his frustration. Ice saw the opening and took it. He slammed his shield into Motoyasu's chest, sending him staggering backward.
Before Motoyasu could recover, Ice followed up with a brutal punch to his jaw, knocking the Spear Hero to the ground. The crowd gasped in shock.
For a moment, everything went still. Motoyasu lay on the ground, dazed, and Ice stood over him, shield at the ready, his cold gaze fixed on his opponent. He had taken control of the fight—and now, everyone knew it.
But Ice's mind raced. Where's the trick? He knew Myne wouldn't just let him win. There had to be something coming—something he hadn't seen yet.
Motoyasu slowly got to his feet, wiping blood from his lip. His confident grin was gone, replaced by a snarl of pure rage. "You… you're going to regret that, Shield Hero," he spat, his grip tightening on his spear.
Castletown
Strike force-2 and Shadows of the queen
Castle Town's towering walls loomed close, the deserted streets amplifying the sense of foreboding that hung over Strike Force-2 and their captives, the Queen's Shadows. The MTF operatives moved in precise formation, Pops leading the way with Ares covering the rear, while Polak and Whiskey kept a close watch on their new prisoners—highly skilled stealth operatives who, despite their abilities, had been easily overwhelmed by the MTF's superior training.
The Shadows exchanged glances, clearly unsettled by the operatives' seamless efficiency. Their own stealth and magic had been completely ineffective, and now, as they marched alongside their captors, they couldn't help but wonder—who were these men? They had never encountered anything like Strike Force-2.
"Who… who are you?" one of the Shadows, a woman adept in illusion magic, finally whispered, her voice a mix of fear and confusion. "Why are you here?"
Pops didn't bother turning to face her. His gaze remained fixed ahead, the arena growing louder with each passing second. "We're the ones keeping you alive right now," he replied, his voice cold and measured.
The Shadows, despite their extensive training, were thrown off balance. These operatives weren't loyal to King Aultcray or the princess—nor were they rebels. Their weapons, tactics, and cold precision didn't match anything the Shadows had encountered in this world. The illusionist looked to her comrades for reassurance, but they were just as perplexed.
"You serve the Queen?" she asked, unsure of what to believe.
Ares, always calm under pressure, cut in, his tone sharp. "You're asking the wrong questions. We're in control here—not you."
That shut the Shadow up. Her confusion deepened, but the look on her face showed she understood one thing—whoever these men were, they were far more dangerous than anything she'd anticipated.
Whiskey, up ahead, adjusted his grip on his sniper rifle as they neared a vantage point overlooking the arena. He glanced back, his voice casual but edged with authority. "Doesn't matter who we are. You'll find out soon enough."
The group crept up to the edge of a ridge, where the full scale of the arena became clear. The dull roar of the crowd grew into a deafening wave of sound as Strike Force-2 peered down, taking in the sight of the packed stands. The entire population of Castle Town seemed to be gathered to witness the duel.
Whiskey dropped to one knee and unslung his sniper rifle, setting it up and peering through the scope. "Looks like the whole damn town's here," he muttered.
Pops, still holding the mission pad connected to the Switchblade UAV, scanned the scene. The drone feed confirmed it—this was where everyone had gone. In the center of the arena, two figures clashed, locked in a fierce duel. Pops zoomed in on the combatants.
"That's Ice," he said, his voice low and grim.
The Shadows stiffened. "The Shield Hero… they're forcing him to fight the Spear Hero," one of them murmured, watching the duel in disbelief. "The King ordered this after accusing the Shield Hero of attacking the Princess."
Polak shot the Shadow a glance. "Attacking the Princess? That's bullshit, and you know it. Why the setup?"
The Shadow hesitated, then nodded. "It's all a game. If the Shield Hero loses, he loses everything—his reputation, his position, everything."
"And if he wins?" Polak pressed.
"They won't let him," the Shadow whispered. "The Princess plans to use magic. She'll stop him."
Whiskey's focus sharpened through the scope. His finger hovered over the trigger as he spotted Myne, standing on the edge of the arena, her hand glowing faintly as she prepared to cast a spell. "She's about to interfere," he muttered.
The Shadows, still unsure of Strike Force-2's true motives, leaned closer. These men weren't allies of the King—that much was clear. But who were they fighting for?
Pops gave the signal. "Whiskey, take the shot."
Whiskey's scope zeroed in on Myne's glowing hand. She was seconds away from casting the spell, her magic coiling in her palm, ready to tip the duel in Motoyasu's favor.
Crack!
The bullet sliced through the air, grazing Myne's arm. She cried out in shock, her spell dissipating as she clutched her injured arm, eyes wide with panic. The crowd, too focused on the duel, didn't notice, but King Aultcray shot up from his seat, his face contorted in rage.
"Nice shot," Ares muttered, his voice laced with satisfaction.
Down in the arena, Motoyasu hesitated, distracted by Myne's sudden cry. Ice, seeing the opening, didn't waste a second. He slammed his shield into Motoyasu's chest, sending the Spear Hero crashing to the ground.
Up on the ridge, Pops surveyed the scene. "We move after the fight. Ice will need an exit."
The Shadows, still wary but realizing that these men had just saved the Shield Hero, exchanged glances. They didn't understand who these operatives were, but they now saw that their interests aligned—at least for now.
"They saved him," one of the Shadows whispered in disbelief. "They stopped the Princess…"
Pops ignored the comment, his eyes still fixed on the arena. "Stay ready," he ordered. "If she tries anything else, we take her out again."
Down below, Ice took in the scene. Myne was clutching her arm, the spell gone. He didn't know what had stopped her, but he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip.
Motoyasu, still on the ground, glared up at him, fury and confusion etched across his face. His confidence had crumbled, and the crowd was beginning to realize the fight wasn't as one-sided as they'd expected.
Ice stepped forward, raising his shield. "You should've finished this earlier," he muttered, driving his shield into Motoyasu again, knocking the wind out of him. The crowd gasped in shock.
High above, Myne scanned the arena frantically, her carefully laid plans falling apart. She couldn't tell where the attack had come from, but she knew one thing—it wasn't part of her script.
This isn't over, Ice thought, locking eyes with Motoyasu as he prepared to end the duel.
Meanwhile, on the ridge, Whiskey kept his scope trained on Myne, ready for any more interference. The Shadows crouched beside the operatives, still trying to understand who these men were and why they had stopped the Princess.
"Whatever happens next," Polak muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle, "it's about to get real messy."
"Good," Pops replied, his voice low and calm. "Then we're right where we need to be."
Some minutes earlier
Castletown, Grand Arena
[Redacted] Call Sign "Ice"
The arena roared with anticipation as Ice and Motoyasu circled each other. The clash of their first exchange still echoed in the crowd's ears. Motoyasu's spear glinted in the sunlight, a weapon designed to shine in the chaos of combat. Ice, on the other hand, remained focused, his shield raised and ready. He wasn't just fighting Motoyasu—he was fighting against the whole kingdom's expectations.
Motoyasu twirled his spear with an almost cocky grin. "You're gonna need more than a shield to stop me," he taunted. "Chaos Spear!" With a sharp motion, Motoyasu thrust his spear forward, the weapon glowing with a chaotic, fiery energy and seemingly copying itself dozens of times. The spearheads crackled as they cut through the air, a blazing line of destruction aimed directly at Ice.
Ice raised his shield just in time. "First Shield!" The shield glowed with a bright light, and placed a green magical shield in front of him. The fiery energy crashed against it, sending sparks flying into the air. The force of the hit vibrated through Ice's arm, but he held his ground, digging his heels into the dirt.
Motoyasu pressed forward, unleashing a barrage of attacks. "Chaos Spear! Spiral Thrust!" His spear became a blur of energy, spiraling and slashing through the air as he tried to overwhelm Ice with sheer speed.
Ice gritted his teeth as he blocked each attack, his shield lighting up with each parry. "Damn it," he muttered, his body shaking from the intensity of the assault. But despite the ferocity of Motoyasu's attacks, Ice remained on his feet. His shield might've been bound by the magic of this world, but it was holding strong.
"I'm done with playing defense," Ice growled, eyes narrowing behind his tinted goggles.
Motoyasu grinned, readying another spell. "Then come at me, Shield Hero! Chaos Spe—" But before Motoyasu could finish, Ice charged forward, closing the gap between them in an instant.
"Impact Shield!" Ice roared, thrusting his shield forward. It glowed with a surge of power before smashing into Motoyasu's chest. The impact sent the Spear Hero flying into the wall of the Arena, making a sizable hole, his golden armor dented from the blow. The crowd gasped, stunned by Ice's sudden counterattack.
Motoyasu staggered to his feet, clutching his chest, his expression darkening with anger. "You're dead! Lightning Spear!" His spear crackled with lightning as he lunged forward, the spearhead transforming into a bolt of lightning aimed at Ice's heart.
I'm not going down that easy. Ice quickly raised his shield again, bracing for impact. "Shield Prison!" The shield glowed as a ball composed of sheilds and chains formed around Motoyasu, absorbing the force of the attack.
"What is this! Let me out Damn it!" Motoyasu cursed loudly, frustration clear in his voice.
Ice lifted the spell, the shield prison disappearing again and letting the Spear hero out.
Ice lowered his shield slightly, his breathing steady, though his muscles were starting to burn from the continuous defense. He could feel the stares of the crowd—hostile, judging, waiting for him to falter. But Ice wasn't about to give them the satisfaction.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Ice saw her. Myne. Standing near the royal box, her hand glowing faintly with a magical aura. She's going to interfere, he thought. Just like I expected.
As Ice prepared to brace for her inevitable spell, he heard a faint buzzing in the distance—an almost imperceptible sound. He didn't have time to dwell on it as Motoyasu lunged forward again, lightning trailing behind him. Ice dodged, but just as the Spear Hero's spear narrowly missed him, a crack split the air.
Crack!
From high above, a single shot rang out, cutting through the roar of the crowd. Myne's spell fizzled into nothing as she screamed in pain, clutching her arm. Blood dripped from the fresh wound where the bullet had grazed her.
The arena fell into a stunned silence, even Motoyasu faltered mid-swing. His eyes darted to Myne in confusion.
"Who—what—?" Motoyasu stammered, but before he could react further, Ice moved.
"Impact shield!" Ice's shield glowed with a brilliant light as he slammed it into Motoyasu's chest, sending the Spear Hero crashing to the ground with a thundering thud.
Motoyasu gasped for air, clutching his ribs as he tried to push himself up. The crowd watched in shocked silence, not understanding what had just happened.
Ice, his shield raised and ready, quickly scanned the arena. His mind raced. That shot—where did it come from? It didn't take long for him to spot the faint glint of a sniper scope far off in the distance, just above the ridgeline. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Strike Force-2.
Meanwhile, at the ridge overlooking the arena, Whiskey peered through his scope, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Target neutralized. Spell's broken."
The Shadows crouched nearby, their confusion evident as they whispered among themselves. They still had no idea who these strange men were, but it was clear now—they were not with the King or Princess.
Pops lowered his binoculars, his voice calm and collected. "Good. Now we sit tight and wait. Ice is holding his own for now."
"What's going on down there?" Polak asked, his voice low as he scanned the arena.
Ares kept watch on the ridge, ready for any more surprises. "Looks like they're playing games with him. But it won't last."
Back in the arena, Motoyasu staggered to his feet, his chest heaving with labored breaths. His confidence had crumbled, and Ice wasn't giving him a chance to recover.
Motoyasu lunged again, desperation creeping into his movements. "Chaos Spear!" His spear ignited with chaotic energy once more, but his swings were wild, reckless.
Ice sidestepped the attack with ease. "You're done, Motoyasu," he growled, slamming his shield into the Spear Hero's gut with a bone-crunching thud.
The crowd gasped again, unable to believe what they were seeing. The supposed villain, the Shield Hero, was dominating the duel. And now, with Myne out of commission, there was no one left to tilt the scales in Motoyasu's favor.
Meanwhile, back on the ridge, Pops spoke into his comms, still watching the duel unfold. "Stay alert. If they try to interfere again, we shut them down."
Whiskey smirked, adjusting his rifle. "With pleasure."
The Shadows, still bound and unsure of their captors' intentions, remained silent, watching as their world's politics unfolded in ways they never expected. They were caught in a game they didn't understand, led by men whose motives were a mystery. But one thing was clear—these operatives were not on the King's side.
The arena was deathly silent. The only sounds were the labored breaths of Motoyasu and the steady, controlled movements of Ice. The crowd had been stunned into silence by the sudden shift in the duel. No one had expected the Shield Hero, the supposed villain, to hold his own—let alone dominate the fight. And now, with Myne's spell disrupted, Ice had all the momentum.
Motoyasu, still reeling from the barrage of hits he had taken, clutched his spear tightly, his knuckles white. His once-confident grin was long gone, replaced by a grimace of frustration and desperation. He tried to steady his breath, his legs wobbling beneath him. Sweat dripped down his face, his body aching from the punishment Ice had dealt.
"Give it up, Motoyasu," Ice growled, his voice cold and firm. "You're done."
Motoyasu's eyes flashed with defiance as he raised his spear once more. "Never…!" he spat, charging forward with what little energy he had left. "Chaos Spear!"
But Ice was ready. He sidestepped the wild thrust, bringing his shield up and smashing it into the side of Motoyasu's head with a resounding crack. The impact sent the Spear Hero sprawling to the ground, his spear slipping from his grasp as he crashed into the dirt.
The crowd gasped. Motoyasu groaned in pain, struggling to push himself up, but his body refused to obey. His vision blurred as he lay there, panting, defeated.
Ice stood over him, shield raised, ready to strike again if necessary. The cheers that had once been deafening were now replaced by stunned silence. No one had expected this outcome.
"Yield," Ice demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "It's over."
Motoyasu blinked, his breath ragged, and after a long moment of silence, he finally lowered his head in defeat. "I… yield," he muttered, the words bitter on his tongue.
The crowd erupted into a mix of shocked gasps and murmurs. No one had expected the Spear Hero to lose, especially not to the Shield Hero. The King's face twisted into a frown, and Myne's eyes were wide with disbelief and fury.
Ice stepped back, lowering his shield. He'd won, but he knew this wasn't the end of it. The look on Myne's face, the rigid posture of King Aultcray—it was clear they weren't going to let this victory stand.
Suddenly, King Aultcray rose from his throne, his face a mask of fury. "Guards! Seize the Shield Hero at once!" he bellowed, his voice filled with venom.
The arena gasped in confusion, but before Ice could react, the gates around the arena burst open, and knights flooded the field. Their armor clanged as they rushed forward, weapons drawn, surrounding Ice in a tight circle.
"What now?" Ice muttered under his breath, shifting into a defensive stance.
King Aultcray's voice boomed across the arena. "The Shield Hero has used deceit and trickery to win this duel! He is a cheat and a liar! Arrest him!"
Motoyasu, still on the ground, looked up in confusion. "Wait… cheat? What…?" But his words were drowned out by the king's command.
Ice's jaw tightened as the knights moved closer, their spears and swords aimed directly at him. His eyes flicked to the royal box where Myne stood, a satisfied smile creeping back onto her face as she watched the trap close in on him.
Then he heard it. At first, it was just a soft hum, barely audible over the chaos of the arena. But soon, it turned into a high-pitched wail, one that Ice recognized instantly. A FPV drone. His instincts kicked in immediately.
Despite being locked in a fierce fight just minutes ago, Ice reacted quickly. He grabbed Motoyasu by the arm and yanked him away from the cluster of knights. "Get down!" he barked, throwing himself to the ground and shielding his head with his arms.
Motoyasu, still dazed from the fight, followed Ice's lead, hitting the ground just as the wail grew deafening. The knights began to notice it too, their eyes scanning the sky in confusion. But it was too late. One of them pointed at a dark shape streaking across the sky, but by then, the Switchblade was only 100 meters away.
The drone slammed into the center of the knight formation, and the warhead detonated in a fiery explosion. The knights closest to the blast were killed instantly, their bodies flung like ragdolls, while those further out were sent flying, crashing to the ground in a heap of twisted armor.
The arena, once filled with cheers and chants, was now a sea of terrified screams. The crowd erupted into panic, their excitement turning to horror as they tried to make sense of the sudden attack.
Then, emerging from the smoke and chaos, four figures dressed head-to-toe in black, just like Ice when he cane to their world, advanced into the arena. Their movements were precise, methodical. Each was armed with a variety of rifles—AR-style weapons, an AN-94—and their presence alone sent shockwaves through the remaining knights.
Following closely behind them were four more figures, draped in dark purple robes with masked faces—Aultcray immediately knew who they where, the Queen's Shadows, clearly captured by the operatives.
Some knights, shaken but not defeated, tried to stand their ground. They raised their swords and shields, determined to face the intruders. But they were no match. With quick, controlled bursts of fire, the MTF operatives dispatched them with ease—one or two well-placed shots to the chest or head was all it took. The remaining knights, seeing how effortlessly their comrades had been taken down, wisely dropped their weapons and backed away, unwilling to test their luck.
"Smart lads," Whiskey muttered, his voice low as he surveyed the arena, his gaze briefly sweeping over the massive structure before landing on the royal box.
Pops, his rifle still trained on the retreating knights, glanced up as well. In the royal box, a healer was tending to Myne, who was clutching her arm, her face contorted in pain and fury. King Aultcray, no longer the imposing figure he once was, cowered behind his throne, his eyes burning with hatred as he watched the four operatives make their way toward Ice.
The crowd remained frozen, too shocked to act, as the four operatives closed the distance between them and the Shield Hero. Whatever game the King and Myne had been playing, it had just been interrupted in the most explosive way possible.