[Anti-Magic Shield]

  The knights formed a defensive phalanx, their shields overlapping to create a wall of dark energy. The fallen knight struggled back to its feet, rejoining the formation despite the damage it had sustained.

  Clive dipped his brush again, determined to press his advantage while the knights were on the defensive. Power surged through him as he painted another lightning bolt, this one even more intricate than the first.

  [Paint: Yellow Lightning I]

  The bolt screamed through the air, striking the centermost shield with devastating force—only to dissipate harmlessly against the dark barrier, absorbed into the shield which flared briefly before fading.

  [Shadowknight is immune to magic]

  [Anti-Magic Shield consumed, resistances have reverted]

  "They can block it!" Clive called out to the guards, "But only once!"

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than the knight's shield began to glow again, rapidly regaining its former intensity.

  [Anti-Magic Shield]

  "They're recharging," Clive realized with a sinking feeling. He raised his brush, letting off one final [Yellow Lightning I], before a wave of dizziness washed over him, causing him to stumble.

  [MP: 0/22 ]

  "I’m empty," Clive gasped. "I can't cast again. Not yet."

  The captain glanced at him before turning back to the advancing knights. "Fall back to the fountain! Protect the mage! He's our only chance!"

  Two guards rushed to Clive's side, helping him retreat toward the center of the square where a stone fountain provided some measure of cover. Behind them, the knights advanced in lockstep, their shields fully recharged and their blades trailing ribbons of darkness through the night air.

  Clive’s gaze fell on the steel longsword strapped at his hip. If magic didn’t work, then it was time for steel.

  "Stay back!" Clive called out, drawing his sword.

  The captain's eyes widened. "Are you mad? Your magic barely slowed them! What’s a mage going to do with a sword?"

  “I’m not a mage!” Clive yelled as he charged toward the nearest Shadowknight. The creature pivoted to meet him, swinging its serrated blade.

  Clive feinted left, then slashed hard at the knight's exposed flank, putting all his weight behind the blow. Steel met darkened metal but his blade bounced off the knight’s armour, recoiling Clive backwards.

  [Shadowknight is resistant to slashing damage]

  A hollow laugh emanated from within the knight's helmet, the first sound Clive had heard any of them make.

  "Damn it," Clive hissed, leaping back to avoid another devastating swing.

  His mind raced. If slashing doesn't work...

  He sheathed the longsword and drew the steel dagger from his boot.

  The Shadowknight lunged, its massive blade carving through the air where Clive's head had been a moment before. He ducked under the swing. Slip, step, thrust. He used his smaller size and greater agility to his advantage, and drove upward with the dagger.

  The dagger's tip found the seam and struck hard, only to glance off as if hitting solid stone.

  [Shadowknight is resistant to piercing damage]

  Clive stumbled backward as the knight advanced relentlessly. The Shadowknight swung again. Clive barely managed to dodge this time but was knocked off balance and fell backwards. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs as the Shadowknight loomed over him.

  Around him, the remaining guards were being steadily pushed back, their weapons as ineffective as his own. The situation was growing dire by the second.

  "Nothing's working!" a guard shouted, narrowly dodging a retaliatory swing that cleaved through a market stall as if it were made of paper.

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  Clive scrambled backward, his fingers finding only dust and broken stone as the knight's massive form blocked out the moonlight above him. The knight raised its blade for what would surely be a killing blow.

  The captain made a desperate lunge to reach Clive, but was interrupted by a Shadowknight's armored backhand that sent him flying into a market stall, which collapsed in a shower of splintered wood.

  "We can't... penetrate their defenses," the captain gasped, struggling to rise.

  The lead knight's blade began its deadly arc towards Clive —

  CRACK!

  A sound like splitting stone echoed through the square as something slammed into the knight's helmet from behind. The creature staggered, its killing blow going wide as it fought to regain its balance.

  "You're using the wrong tools for the job!"

  The gruff voice cut through the chaos as a scarred man vaulted over an overturned cart, landing between Clive and the disoriented knight. A leather patch covered his left eye, while his right burned with intensity. In his hands, he carried a massive two-handed warhammer. The weapon looked heavy, yet he wielded it with the ease of a man who had made violence his life's work.

  The Shadowknights shifted their formation to face this new threat. The one he'd struck from behind turned slowly, dark mist leaking from a dent in its helmet.

  "Huntmaster Kell!" the captain called out, relief evident in his voice.

  Kell's single eye narrowed as he sized up the knights surrounding them.

  "Seriously..." Kell growled, his stance widening as he readied his hammer. "Using swords and arrows against plate armor? What have I been teaching you lot? When faced with a sturdy defense, what you need—" he hefted the warhammer, "—is a good, hard knock."

  The Shadowknight that had been about to end Clive's life turned fully to face this new threat. It raised its blade in what almost seemed like a salute before lunging forward.

  Kell didn't retreat. Instead, he pivoted, letting the knight's blade whistle past his ear. The miss put the creature off-balance for just a fraction of a second—all the opening Kell needed.

  His warhammer struck the knight at the joint where helmet met breastplate. The knight's helmet crumpled inward, dark mist pouring from the breach as the creature staggered backward.

  "Their joints!" Kell bellowed to anyone who could hear. "The weakest parts of plate armor are always the joints!"

  Without waiting to see if the knight would recover, Kell spun to engage another that was closing in on his flank. His hammer swept low, smashing the waist of the creature and knocking it down.

  Clive scrambled to his feet, watching the Huntmaster in awe. There was a great beauty in the way he fought, fluid transitions from one stance to another. It was almost like he was reading Blade’s Edge again.

  "That's it!" Kell roared, already winding up for another swing. "Guards! Any who have maces, axes, or hammers, to me! The rest, fall back and protect the villagers!"

  Several guards rushed to follow Kell's command, discarding swords in favor of maces from fallen comrades or improvised clubs. A burly guardswoman grabbed a wooden workbench from a nearby stall, ripping off its legs to create makeshift clubs that she distributed to her comrades.

  "Weapons up!" she shouted, taking position beside Kell. "Just like the trolls at Oakhollow!"

  Kell grinned fiercely. "Aye, Sergeant Mira! Surround and pound!"

  The reformed guards formed a loose circle around one of the knights, darting in with quick strikes and retreating before the creature could retaliate. The knight's armor, seemingly impervious to slashing attacks, began to dent and buckle under the relentless hammering.

  A flash of movement caught Clive's eye. A Shadowknight had broken away from the main group, circling silently behind the guards. It stalked forward, blade poised to ambush the unsuspecting defenders.

  "Behind you!" Clive shouted, but his warning was lost in the chaos of battle.

  Without thinking, he grabbed a fallen guard's weapon, a flanged mace with dried blood still coating its heavy iron head. The mace felt foreign in his grip. Compared to the sword, it was too heavy at the head, leading to an awkward weight balance.

  The knight's helmet swiveled toward him, fixing on Clive. It abandoned its original targets and pivoted toward him. The knight charged, its blade carving an arc through the air.

  Clive twisted desperately. The blade scraped his cheek, leaving a line of red.

  Too close.

  The knight's momentum carried it forward, exposing its back. Clive took this opportunity. He pivoted and struck with every ounce of strength. The swing was clumsy but managed to find the back of the knight’s knee.

  The knight's inhuman composure shattered. It released an unearthly shriek as its leg gave way, collapsing to one knee. Dark mist poured from the wound like blood, dissipating into the night air.

  Clive didn’t hesitate. He gripped the mace with both hands like he'd seen Kell do, raised it high above his head, and brought it down. The unfamiliar weapon nearly twisted from his grasp on impact, but the flanged head connected with a deafening toll.

  [Shadowknight is weak to blunt damage]

  [Critical hit! Weak point struck!]

  [Level up]

  [Mace Mastery Level 1]

  [Power level +3]

  The knight's helmet imploded, crumpling inward. A geyser of dark essence erupted from the breach as the armor collapsed in on itself, crumbling to ashes before Clive's eyes. Within seconds, nothing remained of his opponent but a scorched circle on the cobblestones.

  "Well struck!" Kell called out as he sent another knight staggering with a powerful swing.

  Nearby, Sergeant Mira executed a leg sweep with her heavy mace, taking a knight's feet from under it. The creature crashed to the ground with a cacophony of clanging metal.

  "Now!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the din of battle.

  Three guardsmen pounced like wolves on wounded prey, their improvised weapons—a smith's hammer, a stone post, and a heavy wooden bench leg—rising and falling in a brutal rhythm. Each impact left deeper dents in the knight's armor until, with a final splintering blow, they breached its breastplate. Dark essence scattered into the night.

  “That should be all of them,” Sergeant Mira said.

  “Is it over?” Another guard asked.

  Kell shook his head. “Incursions never end this easily.”

  The portal started to pulse again.

  ----------------------

  Every fortress has its gate. Plate fears the mace, chain dreads the point, leather splits before the slash. Understanding this is the difference between warrior and corpse.

  -Grand General Louis's Manual of Arms