CHAPTER 132: CHAPTER 132: LAW AND ORDER (PART 30)

For a fleeting moment, Iron Shield surged forward again, their fighters rallying behind the devastating spellwork of their leaders. Steel rang louder, voices roared, and for that heartbeat in time, it felt as if they might push the invaders back.

But the surge didn’t last.

The royal forces recovered with brutal speed. Shield walls reformed, sealing the gap Kaelen’s magic had torn open. Orders rang out, crisp and unshaken. The mages behind the line shifted formation, their voices rising in a unified, pounding rhythm.

One by one, spells slammed into Iron Shield’s front. A hail of ice shards shredded through an Aura Knight’s armor, dropping him where he stood. Bolts of lightning leapt across the floor, striking two mages mid-chant, their bodies convulsing before they crumpled.

Tannus spun, his staff intercepting a sword aimed at his back. The impact jolted up his arms, but before he could counter, a blast of wind magic smashed into his side, sending him sprawling across the stone floor. He rolled, coughing, the copper taste of blood in his mouth.

Kaelen caught sight of him and snarled. "Stay on your feet, Tannus! We—"

A golden spear of light ripped past Kaelen’s cheek, grazing him before he twisted his wind magic to deflect the second aimed for his heart. The deflection left his flank open—enough for a royal knight to close the distance. Steel met staff in a flurry of strikes, sparks lighting the air between them.

Kaelen’s eyes burned with defiance, but the truth was clear—his breaths were growing ragged, his steps just a fraction slower.

On the other side of the room, Tannus forced himself up, clutching his staff. He began a chant, earth energy gathering beneath him, the ground trembling—only for an arrow to slam into his shoulder. He grunted, the pain nearly breaking his focus, but he pushed the chant through, jagged spires shooting upward to slow the advancing knights.

A royal mage countered immediately, shattering the stone with a blast of condensed wind. The backlash sent Tannus staggering again.

The Iron Shield line collapsed inward. Their numbers were a shadow of what they had been minutes ago—bodies littered the floor, the smell of burnt flesh, scorched wood, and blood choking the air.

Kaelen’s gaze flicked to the far exit—there was no escape.

"Then we take as many of them with us as we can," he muttered, almost to himself.

He gathered the last of his mana, the crimson gem on his staff burning like a miniature sun. Flame and wind coiled together, unstable and snarling, ready to explode.

But before he could release it—

A royal knight, armor gleaming with layered enchantments, surged forward in a blur. His blade cut clean through the shaft of Kaelen’s staff, the force shattering the spell before it could ignite. The backlash ripped through Kaelen’s body, blood spraying from his mouth as he dropped to one knee.

"No—!" Tannus roared, hurling an earthen spear at the knight.

The attack never landed. A royal mage’s lightning strike intercepted mid-flight, splintering the stone to rubble. The follow-up blast of wind caught Tannus full in the chest, slamming him into the wall with bone-cracking force. His vision swam, his legs refusing to hold him.

Kaelen tried to rise again, his hand gripping the broken staff like a weapon—but the royal knight’s sword found his throat before he could move.

The blade slid free, and Kaelen collapsed, his eyes locked on Tannus for a final heartbeat before the light went out.

Something in Tannus broke. With a wordless cry, he forced himself forward, swinging his staff in a desperate arc. But three knights closed in on him at once. One struck low, cutting his legs out from under him, another drove a spear into his side, and the third’s sword came down, ending it in a clean, brutal motion.

The battle was over.

Silence fell inside the warehouse—broken only by the distant, muffled cheers of the royal troops outside the barricade. The floor was littered with bodies, the once-proud banners of Iron Shield trampled and scorched.

Kaelen and Tannus lay among them, leaders of a force that had fought to the last breath—and lost.

The warehouse was still.

The last echoes of steel and spellfire had faded, leaving only the groans of the dying and the low crackle of flames licking at broken timbers. Dust and smoke hung thick in the air, coating every breath with grit and ash.

Sir Darron stood in the center of the ruin, his longsword lowered but still slick with blood. His armor was scuffed, his shield dented, but his posture was unshaken. His eyes swept the carnage with a cold, steady gaze.

"It’s done," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Then, raising his voice, he barked, "Squads, report!"

Knights stepped forward one by one, their voices grim. "Two of our men are wounded but not critical"

Darron gave a short nod. His jaw tightened as his gaze fell upon the two most notable corpses: Kaelen, the infamous fire-wind mage, his throat split clean by steel, and Tannus, the earth mage, lying broken where the knights had brought him down. For years, their gang name Iron Shield had haunted patrol reports and filled the lips of fearful merchants. Now, their reign ended on a blood-soaked floor.

"Secure the bodies," Darron commanded, his voice cutting through the haze. "Bag them. We’re taking them to Station A for processing."

At once, four knights stepped forward, unrolling thick canvas body bags. They moved with practiced efficiency, laying the heavy fabric beside Kaelen and Tannus. The sound of buckles and clasps echoed through the warehouse as they prepared the coverings.

Darron turned to the nearest mage, a woman with soot streaked across her cheeks and sweat dripping down her brow.

"Extinguish the flames before they spread," he ordered.

"Yes, Captain." She raised her staff, voice low but steady as she chanted. A surge of mist poured forth, rolling across the floor in a pale tide. The scattered embers hissed and died, leaving only the faint scent of wet ash in the air.

Without pause, Darron gestured to another mage at his side. "You—step outside and summon the officers. Now."

The mage bowed once, turned on his heel, and vanished through the smoke-choked doorway.

Moments later, the sound of boots echoed against the stone floor. Five law officers entered in formation, their navy-blue uniforms marred with grime from the barricade outside. They saluted sharply, waiting for their command.

Darron’s eyes swept the wreckage before fixing on them. His voice was iron.

"Search everything. Every chest, every drawer, every loose stone or hidden floorboard. I want documents, ledgers, coded letters—anything that breathes of Iron Shield’s dealings. Their leaders are dead, but their roots will not be allowed to fester."

"Yes, Sir!" The officers fanned out, kicking over crates, rifling through tables, pulling parchment and scraps from the walls where coded maps still hung. One officer dragged a heavy ledger from beneath a loose plank, the leather scorched but intact. Another found a pouch of sealed letters, each stamped with Iron Shield’s sigil.

"Catalog everything," Darron said. "Mark the location and bag it. If it looks important, it goes to Station A. Nothing leaves this warehouse without my order."