The tension in the square was palpable as Boreas drew his sword, the golden blade shimmering faintly. The bodyguard stepped forward, his expression darkening.

  “You’re making a mistake, old man,” he growled.

  “Funny,” Boreas replied. “I was about to say the same thing.”

  The two clashed in a flurry of steel, their movements almost too fast for the crowd to follow. Boreas’s experience and higher level was evident in every strike, his blade dancing with precision. The bodyguard fought back fiercely, his strength undeniable, but he lacked the finesse, discipline and superior attributes that Boreas had. In one swift strike, the elite had the fang in his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Mori, Neres, and Midas stayed on the edges of the square, their eyes scanning the remaining elites.

  “Now they’ll intervene,” Midas murmured. “Be ready.”

  Sure enough, one of the elites moved toward Boreas, his weapon raised.

  “Not so fast,” Mori said, loosing an arrow. The mana-infused projectile struck the elite’s shoulder, knocking him off balance.

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  Neres darted forward, his daggers flashing as he engaged another elite. His speed and silence made him almost impossible to track, and within moments, his opponent was on the defensive.

  Midas stepped into the fray last, facing the third elite. His Celestial Armor and Aegis of Stardust flared to life, and with a burst of cosmic energy, he sent the man sprawling.

  The crowd watched in stunned silence as the group dismantled the mayor’s enforcers with ruthless efficiency.

  Mori and Midas went around opening the shackles.

  The crowd erupted into cheers as the prisoners were freed, their shackles falling to the ground.

  Mori approached Boreas, her eyes bright. “We did it.”

  “Not yet,” Midas said, his tone grim. “This was a warning. The mayor will double down now. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

  As the group regrouped at Willam’s home, the mood was tense. The mayor’s bodyguard and elites had been defeated, but the battle wasn’t over.

  “He won’t stop,” Willam said, pacing the room. “You’ve humiliated him. He’ll bring in reinforcements—mercenaries, assassins, whatever it takes.”

  “Let him,” Midas replied. “The more he throws at us, the more he exposes his operation. We’ll dismantle it piece by piece until there’s nothing left.”

  Boreas leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “What’s the next move?”

  “We need to find out who’s backing him,” Midas said. “The caravans, the weapons—they’re coming from somewhere. If we cut off his supply chain completely, he’ll have nothing left to fight with.”

  Willam nodded. “There’s a trader who works closely with the mayor. He’s slippery, but if anyone knows where the caravans are headed, it’s him.”

  “Then he’s our next target,” Midas said.