Ha-Joon frowned as he caught the change in Berner’s stance. The taller man had gone still, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on Thomas with the kind of focus that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

  “Burny, what are you d—”

  A sigh came from behind them, low and resigned. “Well, I guess we’re doing this now.”

  Ha-Joon turned just in time to see a shadow move. Garrelt’s hand shot out, fingers closing around his collar with an unyielding grip of iron.

  “Wait—”

  The word cut off in a strangled yelp as the world flipped upside down. Garrelt pivoted, lifted, and threw him like a sack of grain. Ha-Joon’s body hit the blue barrier, passed through in a shimmer, and slammed against the far wall inside the cell. The breath fled his lungs in a single wheeze.

  The faint hum of the ward stuttered, then steadied again.

  “Ha-Joon!” Berner shouted, hand snapping toward his blade.

  But Old Lou was already moving.

  The veteran guard’s aura flared like a furnace, flooding the chamber with crushing pressure. His half-step Shackle-Breaker strength rolled out in a wave that made the tables rattle and dust leap from the floor. With a roar, he drew his broad spirit-steel blade and charged. He surged forward with surprising speed, blade flashing as it came down in a brutal arc toward Garrelt’s head.

  Then stopped dead.

  For a moment, no one moved. Lou’s eyes darted to his sword arm, disbelief flashing across his weathered face. His muscles bunched and strained, but the blade refused to move.

  Jonah shimmered into existence between them, the distortion of his cloaking field collapsing in a shimmer of refracted light. One gloved hand clamped around Lou’s wrist, the other braced against the man’s forearm.

  Lou’s expression hardened into a snarl. “You—”

  Jonah struck first. His free hand dropped, then snapped forward, palm driving into Lou’s chest. The blow hit like a hammer. Lou staggered back and crashed through his own desk, splintering wood and scattering papers across the floor.

  The crack of breaking furniture snapped Berner out of his shock. With a curse, he lunged forward, his sword sliding free.

  The taller guard only made it three steps before a pillar of ice erupted from the floor, jagged and white, slamming into his gut with a sound like breaking glass. The breath burst from his lungs; his body lifted clear off the ground and hurled backward. He hit the floor hard, sliding several meters before skidding to a stop in a spray of frost.

  Berner groaned, struggling to his knees as he clutched his stomach, the impact ringing through his ribs. “You bastard!” he spat, snarling at Thomas as he forced himself upright. “I’ll—”

  A shadow fell over him.

  The first thing he saw when his focus cleared was Garrelt’s grin.

  The words broke off as a shadow loomed over him.

  Garrelt stood there, calm and grinning. “Up you go,” he said cheerfully. His hand caught Berner by the front of his armor and lifted.

  “Don’t—”

  Garrelt twisted his hips and flung him through the open cell door. Berner crossed the glowing veil, the barrier warbling as it accepted him. He crashed into a stunned Ha-Joon, and they both fell back to the ground.

  For a moment, both men lay in a tangled heap, gasping. Then Berner groaned, rolled to his knees, and braced a trembling hand against the floor. Fury sparked in his eyes as he forced himself upright.

  “Get up,” he snapped at Ha-Joon, whose only answer was a weak groan.

  Berner rushed toward the door — and slammed headfirst into a shimmering blue wall.

  The impact rippled through the barrier, rings of light spreading outward from the point of contact before collapsing back in on themselves. The force threw him backward, sprawling him across the polished stone.

  He hit the ground hard, breath hissing between his teeth. When he looked up, frustration warped his features. The cell glowed faintly, its curved walls veined with flickering blue light. Runes crawled along the doorway, burning bright for a heartbeat before dimming again.

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  Berner’s hands went to his belt, fumbling for something that wasn’t there. When his fingers met only empty air, his jaw clenched, then just as quickly, his gaze locked on Thomas.

  The younger man stood beyond the barrier with a smirk, then lifted a small white jade crystal, flipping it through his fingers like a coin.

  Berner’s expression twisted again, his dark skin turning a shade of purple. With a guttural roar, he threw himself at the barrier, slamming both fists into it. The ward blazed with blue light. Energy rippled through the air like water struck by a stone, but didn’t yield so much as an inch.

  He hit it again anyway, a raw yell tearing from his throat. Each blow left afterimages of trembling light across the ward — concentric waves that shimmered, then slowly faded.

  A low groan escaped Lou as he shoved himself free of the wrecked desk. Splintered wood creaked under his boots, and a few torn pages drifted down like lazy snow. His eyes swept across the room—from the broken furniture to the three intruders and the two guards trapped behind the humming barrier. For a beat, the old soldier simply stared, jaw clenched.

  “Well… damn,” he muttered, a rough chuckle rumbling in his chest. Then he turned on his heel and bolted for the entrance.

  “Not happening,” Garrelt growled.

  He snatched up Berner’s fallen sword, and blurred forward. The two men collided near the doorway with a ringing clash of steel. Lou’s blade met Garrelt’s in a shower of sparks, both fighters moving with the practiced rhythm of men who’d lived through their fair share of battlefields. Lou’s strikes came heavy and measured, his blade cutting broad arcs that carried weight and precision. Garrelt answered with speed, deflecting each blow by fractions, always driving to find an opening that refused to appear.

  Garrelt might have had the advantage in cultivation, but it was immediately apparent that Lou’s skill with a blade was far superior.

  The older man dug in his heels, meeting each of Garrelt’s strikes with practiced ease. His blade curved down, trying to twist Garrelt’s weapon aside. The two locked for half a heartbeat, Lou giving Garrelt a savage grin that the other returned.

  Jonah’s form flickered at the edge of their fight, the air distorting where he moved. In the next instant, he vanished entirely — sound and light folding around him until only the faint shimmer of displacement marked his presence. Lou caught the motion out of the corner of his eye but didn’t have time to react before Jonah reappeared mid-spin, his boot arcing toward Lou’s ribs.

  The veteran’s reflexes saved him at the last moment. He twisted, catching the kick on the flat of his sword with a sharp metallic crack. The impact still shoved him back half a step, boots grinding against the floor.

  Thomas stood frozen at the edge of the chaos, torn between flight and action. The crack of steel rang in his ears. More than once his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the chamber. He could feel his pulse hammering against the inside of his throat. Alpha’s drone landed softly on his shoulder, its red eyes pulsing softly.

  “You already know how this ends, Thomas,” Alpha said, voice calm and certain in his ear.

  Thomas’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched. “Damn it,” he hissed, and swept his hand through the air.

  A flare of cold light burst from his palm. Shards of ice leapt free, whistling through the air toward Lou in a glittering arc. The old soldier clicked his tongue and twisted, his blade moving in a blur. Each shard struck steel with a crisp, bell-like note before bursting into frost. A fine snow of ice crystals drifted across the floor.

  The parry left him open.

  Garrelt was already there. He lunged, closing the distance in a blur, and drove his fist into Lou’s gut. The impact landed like a thunderclap. Air exploded from Lou’s lungs; his eyes went wide as his body folded forward.

  Before he could recover, Thomas stomped down. Frost erupted outward, crawling across the stone in a wave that spread from his boot. The cold seized Lou’s legs, solidifying layer by layer until ice swallowed him to the waist. He twisted against it, snarling, but the only sound was the slow, creaking protest of frozen air.

  Jonah appeared behind him, silent as a shadow. He reached down and jabbed a finger against the base of Lou’s neck. A burst of light flared, then sharp, geometric lines of azure spread from the point of contact, branching out at perfect right angles across the man’s back and shoulders. The pattern pulsed once, like a heartbeat.

  Lou’s eyes bulged, and he grunted, somewhere between a gasp and a growl, cut short as the light spread through him. His pupils rolled back, and his body went limp. The ice gripping him cracked and fell away in chunks. Lou slumped forward, hitting the ground with a heavy, final thud.

  Silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of the barrier and the soft crackle of melting frost.

  Garrelt exhaled slowly, shoulders easing as he looked down at the unconscious man. “Well,” he muttered, “that could’ve gone worse.”

  Garrelt bent, caught Lou by the collar, and started dragging him across the floor. The older man’s boots scraped a rough trail through the thin crust of frost as Garrelt hauled him toward the open cell.

  Behind them, Thomas blinked, the rush of the last few seconds finally catching up to him. He knelt and unclipped something from Lou’s belt. A small white jade crystal caught the light. He sighed and nodded.

  Jonah’s gaze followed the motion. His fingers flexed and relaxed, a quiet rhythm of unease. Only the [Wasp] perched on his shoulder stayed his hand.

  Garrelt raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He hefted Lou upright with one arm, the limp weight barely slowing him, and strode toward the cell. “Make some room,” he said, voice calm but carrying.

  The two trapped guards inside scrambled back, pressing themselves against the far wall as Garrelt tossed his burden into the cell.

  Lou’s body hit the barrier in a flash of blue light. The ward rippled outward like disturbed water before settling again. The half-step Shackle Breaker landed in an undignified heap atop the other two men, the impact knocking a collective grunt from their lungs. For a beat, no one moved.

  Garrelt brushed frost from his hands, his expression unreadable. “Three for one,” he muttered. “Not bad.”

  The barrier steadied. Across the room, Thomas straightened and slipped the crystal into his coat pocket. Jonah lowered his hand at last, the remaining traces of azure light fading from his fingertips while his eyes lingered on Thomas.