The night had gone still again.
Too still.
Ryliegh stood at the edge of the ruined tower's broken wall, unmoving. His sword was drawn, the blade resting lightly on his shoulder. He stared into the tree line, muscles locked, breath slow.
Then, softly:
"They're here."
Vale stood. "How many?"
"Don't know. Enough."
The wounded green knights scrambled behind cover, one dragging the other beneath a collapsed slab of stone. The uninjured knights took positions at either side of the breach in the wall.
Phoenix didn't move from where he sat against the back corner, helmet still off. He looked up at Ryliegh, his face pale, breath thin.
"You need me?"
"No," Ryliegh said flatly. "You'd slow us down."
Phoenix offered a faint smirk. "Honest as ever."
Ryliegh didn't reply. He stepped forward into the firelight just as the first shape burst from the dark.
A grunt — all claws and sinew, shrieking silently as it leapt.
Ryliegh met it midair, steel flashing.
The body hit the ground in two pieces.
The others came fast behind it.
Two more grunts from the left. A soldier-type from the right — bigger than the last, sword scraping the stones as it charged.
The green knights moved like clockwork.
Vale blocked the soldier's strike with his axe, the force knocking him back two full steps. His partner darted in and slashed low, catching the thing in the knee.
It roared — more vibration than sound — and brought its blade down.
Vale barely deflected it.
Ryliegh fought like stone — unyielding. Every blow precise, efficient. He struck for tendons, for weak joints, never wasting a breath or step. He took down two grunts in quick succession, then turned toward the soldier.
"Left leg's weak!" one green knight shouted.
Ryliegh didn't answer. He moved.
The soldier saw him coming and swung wide — a huge, sweeping arc meant to decapitate.
Ryliegh ducked low, rolled beneath it, came up behind the creature's spine and drove his longsword through the base of its neck.
It dropped like a felled tree.
Another scream echoed from the woods.
More were coming.
Phoenix gritted his teeth, struggling to sit up straighter. His eyes scanned the chaos, jaw clenched.
He hated this.
Hated watching.
But every movement sent fire through his ribs. He'd only slow them down. He knew that. He hated it anyway.
A grunt made it past the wall — fast, twitching, low to the ground. It turned toward the wounded knights, claws out.
Phoenix grabbed the short sword beside him and threw it.
The blade spun end over end and struck the beast in the neck — not deep enough to kill, but enough to stagger it.
Ryliegh was there a heartbeat later, shield smashing it to the dirt before his sword finished it.
He looked back at Phoenix.
Phoenix just nodded. "You're welcome."
The fight slowed. The attackers pulled back.
Only three remained, circling outside the wall. Waiting.
Testing.
Ryliegh raised his sword. "Hold."
Vale moved to his side. "They're not charging again."
"They're watching. Measuring us."
Vale looked at the bloodied ground. "They'll come back."
Ryliegh nodded. "Then we'll be ready."
The fire was lower now. The silence had returned.
But it was not safety.
Only a pause.