Chapter 330 -323:The Advice

For several seconds, neither side moved.

Vale swept his gaze across the northern treeline and the open southern approaches.

Soldiers in heavy armor blocked the primary routes through the trees. The battered bait train sat dead behind their group, while the heavily armored formation held the line of track ahead.

Vale was still searching the perimeter for a gap in the containment when a heavy hatch hissed open along the center car.

Four commandos dropped to the gravel first.

Two carried—thick, oversized guns fed by flexible belts linked directly to ammunition packs at their back.

Vale didn’t need to know the official designation. The intent was self-evident: blanket fire and area suppression.

The other two commandos carried nothing, their hands free and weapons slung.

Then a man stepped down between them.

He wore—only a dark, weathered military coat, with a simple sword resting at his hip. Grey hair were creeping through his cropped hair, but his posture was loose, balanced, and devoid of tension.

The two repeater gunners spread out, covering the flanks, while the second pair fell into step behind him. The surrounding infantry held their positions without a word.

The deference said enough: he was in charge.

Beside Vale, Elenwe let out a low, sharp breath.

"What is it?" Vale muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Her eyes were locked on the two commandos trailing the commander. "The rear pair."

"How bad?"

"Grand rank mages both of them."

Elarion hadn’t just prepared for the Knights. They had built a net tailored specifically to counter Elenwe.

The commander halted forty paces off. His eyes drifted across the eight fugitives before coming to rest on Vale.

"So," he said, his voice carrying easily over the idle thrum of the train’s mana-cores. "You’re the eight who’ve been playing in our backyard."

Silence stretched.

His gaze flicked toward the smoking, ruined bait train behind them. "And seems you have been taking souvenirs on your way out."

Pib shot a sideways glance at Durn. Durn immediately adopted the expression of an innocent bystander.

Vale ignored them both, his eyes tracking back toward the southern tree line. If Elenwe could kick up a screen and Ghara hit the front line—

"I wouldn’t," the commander said quietly.

Vale looked back.

The man was watching him with mild, almost disappointed interest. He rested his palm lightly on his sword handle. "I’m a Peak Knight too."

Vale focused, straining through his senses, and finally felt it: a staggering reservoir of condensed mana suppressed beneath tight, effortless control.

The older Knight gave a brief, thin smile. "And I’ve held the rank since before you were pulling practice wooden swords. Whatever break-out calculation you’re running, run it past the first ten seconds and the result will be quite different."

Ghara’s knuckles popped. Her lips pulled back into a sharp grin.

The commander’s eyes shifted toward her. "That includes you."

"Does it?" Ghara drawled.

"Especially you."

Aldis cleared his throat softly behind her. "Ghara."

"What?"

"Nothing."

The commander studied her face for a moment. "That look usually means trouble."

"Usually," Vale agreed.

"Thought as much." The man adjusted his coat. "Malen Voldric. Peak Knight in Lord Lucien’s service."

Vale stayed silent, arms loose at his sides.

"Lord lucien handed me this task with one rather inconvenient parameter," Malen continued smoothly. "All eight of you are to be brought back breathing."

Ghara’s grin widened.

Malen caught it immediately. "Don’t get romantic."

She chuckled. "You just admitted you can’t kill us."

"No. I admitted I was ordered not to." His voice remained dry. "That doesn’t mean I can’t break your limbs to make you easier to carry."

Ghara’s smile faltered immediately.

Vale’s eyes darted south once more. One of the repeater gunners adjusted his weight, the heavy twin-barrel drifting casually to cover that exact direction.

Malen sighed. "Still mathing."

"You expected me to fold?"

"No."

"Then why bother talking?"

"Force of habit."

Vale nearly laughed.

Malen turned his head slightly toward the commando to his right. "Signal the artillery car. Execute the demonstration. Third gun, target that hill."

The commando tapped his helmet’s side-plate. "Command confirmed."

Malen looked back at the eight. "Cover your ears."

Durn’s head snapped toward the massive rail carriage. "Wait—"

"Fire."

The third gun spoke.

The shockwave drove into their sternums like someone had put them in a grinder. Dust and loose gravel blasted outward from the rail bed as the massive recoil dampers groaned, absorbing tons of kinetic feedback.

Several heartbeats passed in deafening silence.

Then, half a mile north, a barren hillside collapsed. HE-shells ripped into the rock face, vaporizing stone and flinging hundreds of tons of shattered stones and soil into the sky before the sound hit—a deep, chest-rumbling roar that followed long after the impact.

The shell had landed nowhere near them. The point wasn’t accuracy; it was absolute area-denial.

Pib lowered her hands from her ears, her eyes wide. "That’s... absurdly excessive."

"That’s artillery," Durn muttered, staring at the rising dust cloud.

Vale met Malen’s eyes. "Impressive."

"I’m not trying to impress you, kid."

"No?"

"I’m trying to wrap this up before my tea gets cold."

Vale’s gaze flicked to the infantry line blocking the trees.

Malen’s shoulders dropped. "Oh, for the love of—"

Vale raised his left hand.

Elenwe didn’t wait for the hand to drop. Her staff struck the gravel with a sharp crack, unleashing a localized gale. A dense wall of dirt, dead leaves, and crushed gravel roared upward, creating an opaque curtain between them and the commandos.

"South!" Vale shouted.

The team exploded into motion.

Ghara and Thorne lowered their shoulders, charging straight for the southern gap like siege engines, with Renna veering wide to draw fire. Aldis flanked Durn and Pib, who kept their arms pulled tight over their chests to protect the spatial rings, while Elenwe poured fresh mana into maintaining the dust storm.

The two machine gunners didn’t panic. One planted his boots, tracking the south, while the other shifted smoothly to cover the northern treeline. Neither opened blind fire. They waited for targets.

Vale charged straight through the dust at Malen.

The nearest machine gun began swinging toward Vale’s chest, but Malen held up a single gloved hand. "Mine."

The heavy barrel froze.

Malen drew his sword and immediately steel hit steel.

Vale didn’t give him space to breathe. He threw a rapid three-point sequence—high strike to the collarbone, a low whip toward the knee, and a driving thrust down the centerline.

Malen didn’t parry hard; he deflected each blade edge with short, ridiculously efficient flicks of his wrist, barely shifting his stance. His counter-thrust came out of nowhere, whistling past Vale’s jaw.

Vale leaned, locking their hilts together.

"I gave you good advice," Malen said calmly.

Vale forced his weight forward. "I heard you."

Behind them, the dust curtain began to tear apart.

One of the Grand Mages stepped forward, armored hand extended. Instead of blasting through Elenwe’s spell with raw force, he targeted the air currents directly, unraveling the wind matrix from the inside out. The cloud dissipated into thin air.

The second Grand Mage immediately slammed his palm down, throwing a shimmering, translucent wall of force across the southern escape route.

Ghara hit the barrier at full sprint.

The spell-wall bowed under her weight,with bright fractures as she dug her heels into the dirt and drove her shoulder deeper into the energy.

The Grand Mage gritted his teeth, pouring fresh mana into the array. "Hold!"

"Get out of my way!" Ghara roared.

Thorne slammed into the barrier right beside her. "Together!"

The force wall groaned. The Grand Mage’s boots slid three inches backward through the dirt.

Elenwe caught the strain and fired a razor-focused bolt of kinetic force directly into the fracture point.

The barrier shattered like stress-fractured glass.

Ghara burst through the fracture, right into three commandos. The first caught her left hand across his raised vambraces and was hurled backward five yards. A second tried to flank her, but she caught his helmet visor with her elbow, driving him down.

Thorne grabbed the third commando by his chest plate and physically lifted him off his feet, smashing him into the nearest tree.

An opening cleared.

"Go! Go!" Thorne growled.

Durn, Pib, and Aldis sprinted through the gap, with Renna darting ahead like a shadow. They were ten yards from the deep woods.

Then three small metal cylinders bounced through the brush.

Pib skidded to a halt. "Oh, come on—"

Durn grabbed her collar and yanked her violently backward just as the flashbangs detonated.

A blinding flash of white mana swallowed the clearing, accompanied by a localized concussion. Durn staggered, ears ringing furiously as his vision went completely dark.

Aldis caught them both before they hit the ground.

A second charge popped to their right. Renna saw the flare coming, flipped backward over a fallen log, and hit the dirt before the blast cleared.

The commandos moved in like clockwork.

Aldis lunged at the first soldier, driving a heavy fist into the side of his helmet. The joint servos in the commando’s armor whined as he absorbed the blow, recovered, and drove an armored knee hard into Aldis’s ribs.

A second soldier lunged past them, targeting Durn.

The dwarf wiped his watering eyes, saw the suit coming, and didn’t hesitate. "Absolutely not!" He turned and bolted.

Pib scampered right behind him.

The commando’s boots thudded heavily against the earth, closing the gap in seconds.

Durn looked over his shoulder. "Why is a hundred pounds of steel running that fast?!"

"This feels like a terrible time for an engineering debate!" Pib squeaked.

Another armored commando stepped out from behind a boulder directly into their path. Pib veered left, only for a third to cut off her angle.

Pib stopped, putting her hands flat over her head.

Durn stared at her in disbelief. "What are you doing?!"

"Thinking!"

"Why are your hands up?!"

"It calms me down!"

Before Durn could reach the hammer at his belt, the nearest commando closed the distance. One hand clamped around his wrist while the other locked onto his shoulder.

Durn twisted, straining every muscle in his back. The suit didn’t budge. "This is deeply degrading."

Pib launched herself off a rock, leaping onto the commando’s back. "Let him go, you oversized tin can!"

The soldier casually reached behind his back with one arm, snagged Pib by her tunic, and lifted her off his suit like a clingy hamster.

"Put me down!" she yelled.

He did—but directly into the arms of another commando, who pinned her elbows behind her back.

Pib looked up into the blank, black visor. "...I meant on the grass."

Farther back, Ghara was fighting three men at once. She slammed one commando into a tree so hard the trunk cracked, but two more tackled her legs. She planted her boots, her muscles bulging as she literally lifted both soldiers off the ground by their chest armor.

She let out a booming laugh. "Is that all your metal is good for?!"

Thorne was currently dragging three commandos who were clinging to his arms and legs like iron weights. When a fourth joined the pile, his advance finally ground to a halt.

He spat a mouthful of blood and dirt. "Four? Now that’s bullying."

In the woods, Renna was a blur. She glided between the pines, kicking out the knee of one pursuer and vaulting over another. But as she broke for the outer ridge, three more commandos materialized from the bush ahead.

A flash-charge popped beside her boot. The blinding glare caught her peripheral vision. She stumbled, and an armored hand clamped down on her wrist. She spun, planting a fierce kick into the soldier’s gut, but a second commando grabbed her other shoulder.

She pulled against the joint servos, making the metal groan, but a third soldier stepped up with heavy mana-cuffs.

Renna bared her teeth. "Try it."

He clicked them around her wrists without a word.

Near the rails, Elenwe was fighting a losing battle of attrition.

She stood at the center of a crater of churned earth, holding off both Grand Mages while a Knight-commando pressed her in close quarters. She swept her staff, sending a wall of blue fire toward the mages. They raised overlapping shields, the force of her spell shattering the outer layer and knocking both back three paces.

Individually, she outmatched either of them.

Together, working in perfect unision with other commandoes, they didn’t need to beat her spell for spell. They just had to keep her bleeding mana until she ran dry.

The commando lunged, grabbing the shaft of her wooden staff.

Elenwe yanked back, channeling a shock-pulse through the staff but the suit’s insulation absorbed the charge. A binding rune flashed around her ankles as the two Grand Mages recovered and locked down her movement.

Elenwe looked over her shoulder toward Vale.She gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with frustration, but the situation was clear.

Vale and Malen exchanged three rapid, brutal passes—blade edges grinding together, sending bright orange sparks flying across the gravel. Malen stepped smoothly out of Vale’s counter-guard and lowered his blade point to the ground.

"Enough," Malen said.

Vale stayed in his crouch, breathing heavily, sword held high.

"Look around, kid," Malen said quietly. "Your people are alive. Keep swinging, and all you do is get their bones broken."

Vale took a slow, deep breath, his eyes sweeping the clearing.

Durn and Pib were pinned. Aldis was face-down in the dirt with two commandos on his back. Ghara and Thorne were buried under a mountain of iron, and Elenwe was completely bound by static fields.

Even if he somehow cut his way past a Peak Knight right now, escaping alone meant abandoning everyone.

Vale slowly lowered his guard. He loosened his grip, and his sword fell, clattering onto the stones.

Two commandos stepped up immediately, pulling his arms behind his back and snapping heavy suppression cuffs across his wrists.

Malen sheathed his blade with a soft click. "All eight?"

"All eight secured, sir," the lead commando reported. "Minor concusions. No critical injuries."

"Good."

The soldiers began stripping the prisoners gear. Swords, daggers,mana-crystals, and Elenwe’s staff were stacked into wooden crates. Then they moved to the spatial rings.

When a commando stepped toward Durn, the dwarf’s face twitched just a fraction. He quickly forced his expression back into a stony blank.

Malen caught the twitch instantly. He didn’t say a word, just watched as the commando slipped the ring off Durn’s thick finger and dropped it into a lead-lined lockbox. Pib’s ring followed, then Vale’s.

Vale locked eyes with the older Knight. "You could have opened fire with the main battery. You could have killed us five times over."

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you?"

"I don’t waste good ammunition, and Lord Valen gave explicit orders."

"Why does he care?"

Malen glanced back toward the train, his eyes cool and unreadable. "Because he wants to know why eight total strangers spent a week crawling through his perimeter, just to steal a set of blueprints."

Vale remained silent .

"He has a lot of questions," Malen added. "And he’s not a particularly patient man."

Pib leaned as close to Durn as her arm restraints permitted. "So... on a scale of one to ten, how badly did this go?"

Durn stared straight ahead at the armored train. "We were ambushed by a reinforced battalion, two Grand Mages, a Peak Knight, and a eight-inch artillery battery."

Pib blinked. "Is that a ten?"

"I’m establishing baseline parameters."

Malen overheard them. The corner of his mouth twitched into a faint, dry smirk.

Vale found the smirk infuriating.

"Move them out," Malen ordered, turning toward the command car.

The commandos escorted the eight prisoners toward the train. Vale looked back one last time at the trampled clearing, the shattered hillside, and the endless sea of armored soldiers filling the valley.

They had walked right into the vault because Elarion wanted to see what they were after. Now Elarion had the blueprints back, and the one who pulled it off in chains.

Malen had told him to think past the first ten seconds.

Vale turned his eyes back to the train cars ahead. He wouldn’t forget the advice again.