Chapter 127: Fight against Assassins

Ignis groaned, pushing herself up from a cold, stone floor. Her head swam, a dull ache throbbing behind her eyes from the violent, nauseating wrench of teleportation. The cozy warmth of the inn was gone, replaced by a damp, stale chill and an oppressive darkness that pressed in from all sides.

“Ugh… where is this?” she muttered, blinking rapidly as her draconic eyes began to adjust. The room was large, cavernous, and clearly man-made—stone walls, a high ceiling lost in shadow, the air smelling of mildew and old dust. It was a cellar, or perhaps a forgotten storehouse on the outskirts of town.

Her danger sense, sharpened by countless dungeon ambushes, flared a split-second before the attack came. A faint scuff of leather on stone to her left. She didn’t bother to dodge or block. Instead, she turned her body slightly, letting the assassin’s dagger scrape harmlessly across the hardened scales that subtly reinforced the skin of her shoulder. The blade sparked, failing to penetrate.

The assassin, shocked by the inhuman toughness, melted back into the shadows with a hiss of surprise.

“Don’t run away!” Ignis snarled, anger cutting through her disorientation. Flames sparked to life around her fists, casting flickering, monstrous shadows on the walls. “Show yourself, you cowardly rats! Elise! Sera!”

“I’m here, Ignis! I’m alright!” Seraphina’s voice came from about twenty feet away, tight with pain and urgency. “The Princess is unconscious.”

Ignis’s enhanced vision finally pierced the gloom. Seraphina was kneeling protectively over Elise’s prone form, her sword held in a defensive guard. But she was favoring one leg, a dark stain spreading on her breeches. Five of the assassins were circling them, moving with silent, predatory intent, preparing to overwhelm the injured knight.

The flames around Ignis’s hands roared. “Get away from them!”

She didn’t aim. She simply unleashed. A torrent of fire, wider and wilder than her precise Solar Flare, erupted from her palms, flooding the space between her and her friends. It wasn’t an attack meant to kill a single target; it was a wall of purifying flame, a barrier of pure “keep away.”

The assassins scrambled back with hissed curses, their cloaks smoking. One wasn’t fast enough; the edge of the inferno caught him, and he went down with a short, choked scream, rolling to extinguish the flames.

“This is taking too long!” the lead assassin’s voice echoed from the darkness near Ignis. “Forget the fire lady! The primary objective is the Princess! Extract her and go!”

’Extract her’ The words cut through Ignis’s fiery rage. They wanted to take Elise. Adam had entrusted Elise to their care. ’He’d said to protect her, to keep the group safe and low-profile. And now they were in a dark hole, Sera was hurt, Elise was unconscious, and these shadows were trying to snatch her away.’

Ignis positioned herself squarely between the remaining assassins and Elise’s form, her back to Seraphina. The flames died down to a fierce, controlled glow around her arms. Her usual reckless excitement was gone, replaced by a grim, frustrated understanding.

“This is bad,” she growled, more to herself than to Seraphina. “I can’t… I can’t do what Adam said like this.”

“Stay behind me, Sera,” Ignis said, her voice dropping into a low, draconic rumble. The air around her began to warp with heat. “Things are about to get very, very warm.”

Ignis unleashed her fire with a brutal, unrelenting force. Great gouts of flame roared from her hands, not aimed with precision, but poured out like a living river of destruction.

The Five assassins still circling them were forced into a frantic dance, their speed and agility the only things saving them from immolation. They weaved and dodged, the heat singeing their cloaks and forcing them back.

’I can’t go on the offensive,’ Ignis thought, frustration boiling within her as hot as her flames. ’If I charge one, the others will slip past me and go for Elise and Sera. This is so troublesome!’

Her strategy was simple and effective: maintain a ring of fire, a no-man’s-land of searing heat around her and her charges. The assassins lunged, tested her perimeter, and were driven back each time by another tidal wave of orange and red.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable, Lady,” one of them hissed, his form blurring. He used some skill—a shadow-step or short-range teleport—and vanished from Ignis’s front, reappearing in a silent lunge from her left flank, dagger aimed for her kidney.

But dragon instincts, sharpened fighting things that moved without sound or scent, were faster. Ignis didn’t see him; she felt the displacement of air, the intent to kill. Her elbow shot back, wreathed in flame, not to block the blade but to smash into the assassin’s wrist before the strike could land. Bone crunched. The assassin gasped, his form flickering as he retreated back into the gloom, clutching his injured arm.

’Too sensitive,’ the lead assassin thought, observing from the shadows. ’She’s not just strong; she’s a seasoned predator. We can’t wear her down like this. We need to end this now.’

“Use it,” he commanded, his voice a low rasp that cut through the roar of flames.

The other four assassins didn’t hesitate. In unison, they each pulled a small, dark pill from a hidden pouch and swallowed it dry.

Ignis felt the change immediately. The air grew thick, not with heat, but with a sudden, oppressive surge of malignant energy. The assassins’ auras, which had been well-suppressed, now spiked violently. Their movements, already fast, became streaks of darkness. The one with the broken wrist shook his hand, the bones audibly snapping back into place as dark veins pulsed under his skin. Their eyes, visible for a moment in the firelight, glowed with a sickly crimson light.

“Tch.” Ignis spat, her fists clenching so tight her knuckles turned white. The flames around her arms flared brighter, hotter, in response to the threat. “They cheated.”

Behind her, Seraphina pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on her recovered sword. Her face was pale from blood loss and exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, but her gaze was iron.

“I will assist,” she stated, her voice hoarse but steady.

“Huh? Eh, I can handle it,” Ignis said, not taking her eyes off the empowered assassins who were beginning to stalk forward with newfound, terrifying confidence.

“I do not doubt your power,” Seraphina said, shifting her weight onto her good leg and raising her sword into a high guard. “But a knight does not hide behind another’s strength while her charge is in danger. I will not be a burden. I will fulfill my duty.”

She took a deep, pained breath, her stance solidifying despite her injuries. The weariness seemed to burn away, replaced by a cold, focused determination.

“So rude,” Ignis muttered, but a slight, approving smirk touched her lips. “Fine. Don’t get in my way.”

“Rude, am I?” Seraphina shot back, a flicker of her old fire returning. “Then allow me to show you what a true knight is made of.”

The enhanced assassins shot forward, their speed now monstrous. But they were met not just by a wall of fire, but by a wall of fire and steel. Ignis met the charge of two with a roaring Sun Lance, a concentrated beam of solar fury that forced them to split. The third aimed for the apparent weak point—the injured knight.

He never reached her. Seraphina’s sword, though slower than before, moved with unerring precision. She didn’t try to match his speed. She read his intent, the angle of his charge, and her blade was there to meet him, a deflecting parry that sent his own momentum crashing him into a stone pillar with a sickening crack. She followed up not with a killing blow, but with a swift, disabling pommel-strike to the temple as he staggered.

“One down,” she grunted, turning her attention back to the main threat. The fight had truly begun.

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