Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 180. The King's Game of Chess III

As they trudged through the dense forest, Rose couldn't help but cast her gaze upon the broad back of Angel, who led the way ahead of her. They had dismounted from their horses, as the rugged and challenging terrain made it too dangerous to continue riding. The sound of twigs snapping beneath her feet and the rustling of leaves, coupled with the serenity of the woodland surroundings, caused her mind to wander, reflecting upon memories from the past. Specifically, she remembered the fateful day when she first met Angel.

Just as her thoughts were about to spiral into a deep, nostalgic reverie, Angel abruptly came to a halt and let out a sharp whistle. The troops, who were following closely behind, also stopped in their tracks. Rose looked at Angel with a quizzical expression, eager to find out what had caused the sudden pause.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice betraying the hint of concern that was beginning to well up within her.

Angel, with a swift and deliberate motion, brought his index finger to his lips, silently imploring Rose to maintain a hushed and vigilant demeanor.

She nodded in understanding, as did the rest of the soldiers, who were now on high alert and scanning their surroundings with a sense of caution. The scout, who was tasked with keeping watch over their progress, had not given the signal to proceed.

He began to move his index finger in a slow, circular motion, his piercing gaze fixed upon the trees that surrounded them. His silent signal conveyed to his troops that there were enemies nearby, lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. Despite the darkness that enveloped the forest, Angel was determined to keep his troops safe, for he knew that in the face of danger, he was the only thing standing between them and certain peril.

The situation was becoming increasingly dire, for it was nearly impossible for the soldiers to identify their enemies' exact location in the dark, making it all the more challenging for them to defend themselves. Angel understood that if he didn't take swift and decisive action, some of his troops would inevitably be injured, or worse. The weight of this responsibility weighed heavily upon him, and he knew that he needed to act quickly if they were to survive this dangerous and unpredictable night.

With one swift motion, Angel brandished his sword, unleashing a powerful and menacing aura that shattered the branches and foliage surrounding him. His dark presence was palpable, sending rebels flying in all directions as if they were mere puppets being controlled by an unseen hand. The sound of metal colliding with metal echoed throughout the forest, accompanied by the pained cries of those who were struck down by Angel's swift and deadly dark power.

Then Frost led the charge against the rebels, his cunning and strategic mind directing the soldiers in their ruthless pursuit of the enemy. He was like a wolf, stalking its prey, as he expertly guided his troops to close in on their quarry, ready to strike with lethal precision.

Angel fought with a ferocity and grace that was unmatched. His movements were fluid, his strikes lightning-fast, leaving his enemies in a state of disarray and confusion. His sword was an extension of his will, and he used it to devastating effect, cleaving through armor and shields with ease. The rebels, who had once been so confident in their numbers, now found themselves on the defensive, struggling to fend off the relentless barrage of Angel's relentless attacks.

Rose, her body was exhausted from the unceasing battle that had raged for nearly three hours, leaned against a nearby tree, and panted heavily, her energy nearly depleted. She was a blur of motion, a whirlwind of destruction, as she had slashed and whipped her way through the enemy ranks with deadly precision. The battle had taken its toll on her, leaving her feeling drained and vulnerable.

Just as she thought she could catch her breath, a sinister figure appeared, creeping up on her from behind, his sword poised to strike. Rose's senses were dulled, her reflexes slow, and she knew that she would be unable to avoid the impending attack. She braced herself for the impact, ready to accept her fate.

But before the sword could pierce her flesh, a blur of motion appeared, interposing the attack with lightning-fast reflexes. It was Angel, his hand raised in defense, his sword thrusting forward with deadly accuracy to pierce the heart of the attacker. The man fell to the ground, his body lifeless, his soul forever banished from this world.