Clang!

Just as Oren was worrying, the feathered arrow slammed hard right before Irina. The next second, it snapped mid-air as if hitting an invisible barrier.

"Hah~"

Watching the shattered arrow fragments before her, Irina muttered softly. But at that moment, several mounted racers pulled shortbows from behind their backs. As they aimed their longbows at Oren and Irina, a man suddenly roared:

"For Harilan!"

With that shout, riders charged into the casino crowd, drawing sabers from their backs. Seeing the knights, the audience screamed and scattered wildly.

Nothing was more pitiful than a panicked mob. They rushed for exits, shouting and stumbling. Many fell. The attacked didn’t know what they were doing—some terrified souls ran out of stands, back into rooms, then out again, lost in the chaos.

People called to each other everywhere. Women and children were caught in the mess. Thick smoke and confusion filled the air. Bodies tangled, trampling the injured. Moans rose from the ground. Some were stunned; others frozen in fear.

Oren wanted to flee, but amid the chaos, horse whinnies sounded. Several feathered arrows shot toward them. Oren quickly shielded Irina on the ground.

Then, a small voice came from beneath him.

"Hurry up..."

"Huh?"

Oren paused, glancing down. Irina glared, then swiftly planted her feet on his chest.

"Get off!"

Thud!

With a loud crash, Irina kicked Oren flying. Before he could react, he slammed hard onto the ground. Pain hadn’t even registered when a knight in metal armor appeared on horseback before him, saber raised high.

"Holy crap!"

Oren muttered. The knight swung his saber down—but just as it neared Oren, a clear sound rang out behind him.

Thud!

A silvery light struck the knight’s chest, piercing through and knocking him off his horse. As the knight tried to stop the blood gushing from his wound, Irina raised her hand. Brighter silver light gathered there.

Under cover, Irina swiftly closed in. She swung her arm—the light formed a dazzling silver longsword. She slowly turned its blade.

Thump!

The magic sword traced a beautiful half-circle. The knight’s sturdy armor split open. Blood sprayed from his neck. His massive body thudded to the ground.

"Damn..."

Oren wiped sweat, slowly standing. Behind him, Irina flicked her wrist—the silver sword vanished. She reached for her dress hem.

"Seriously, who are these guys? Harilan? Never heard of it."

"Northern barbarians from the Alliance’s edge."

As Irina spoke, *rrrip*—she tore both sides of her dress, revealing pale thighs.

"The Harilan clan constantly raided the Alliance’s north. It was their tradition. But recently, the Alliance wiped them out. Tens of thousands beheaded. Nearly extinct."

She paused.

"After their defeat, many fled south along the Grand Road to the Duchy. People here don’t hate barbarians much... Wait, what are you doing?"

Irina patted her hands, then noticed Oren staring at her in shock.

"You tore your dress for what?"

"Huh? Obviously for mobility! A full skirt slows me down..."

Then Irina saw Oren’s eyes locked on her thighs.

"You!"

She roared, yanking her foot up and kicking him hard in the groin.

"Shit!"

Oren yelped. Irina pulled back her foot, muttering quietly. The silver sword reappeared in her hand. She grabbed a fallen saber from the ground.

"Never mind. Survival first. Get ready—we’re breaking out."

"Okay, okay..."

Oren gripped the saber, feigning agreement. He hadn’t taken three steps when attackers charged. Even facing them, he raised his saber and swung fast.

With flashing blades, he knocked several riders off their horses. Blood sprayed as he lifted his head. Ahead, a figure in silver armor walked slowly toward him.

Honestly, this one felt different from the others. His armor wasn’t barbarian-style. Though Oren couldn’t see his face under the helmet, he sensed youth.

The knight raised his longsword, shouting at Oren:

"Where is Irina?"

Instinctively, Oren shielded Irina behind him. Seeing this, the silver knight leveled his longsword, stern.

"Hand her over. Or I’ll use force."

Oren raised his saber, adjusting his stance.

"Fine. I understand."

The knight lifted his longsword. Oren planned his move:

*No prolonged fight. Just break through.*

Before he finished the thought, the enemy charged, longsword raised. Oren braced his saber defensively.

Clang!

Steel clashed loudly. The knight pressed Oren’s saber down, then drew a dagger from his waist. He thrust it forward.

Silver flashed. Oren was forced back meters. He jammed his saber into the ground to steady himself, sliding over ten meters before stopping.

Watching the slender knight, Oren marveled at his strength. But before he recovered, the dagger flew toward him.

Clang!

Oren swung his saber to block, then charged forward. At close range, he kicked dust into the knight’s helmet. Sand and pebbles *pattered* inside.

"Tch!"

Blinded, the knight stumbled. Oren seized Irina and sprinted for the casino’s back door.

"Wait!"

The knight tore off his helmet, wiping grit from his eyes. By then, Oren had vanished through the door.

"Damn it!"

He muttered, turning to chase—but a hand grabbed his arm.

"Hold on, Eliot."

Startled, the youth named Eliot looked back. Aston Higgins, in a black robe, stood there. Behind him stood rows of armored knights.

"My apologies, Royal Advisor."

Eliot knelt on one knee, bowing deeply.

"I let Princess Irina be captured by barbarians. Grant me a chance to redeem myself. I’ll retrieve her immediately."

"Hmm. But..."

Aston scanned the area. Barbarian riders charged toward them. He raised his staff, tapping the ground lightly.

Thump!

The next second, barbarians and horses exploded from within. Amid flying gore, Aston gripped his staff tighter, murmuring:

"I’ll come with you."