The enemies on the bridge seemed to have been mostly defeated by Siris's other allies, his underestimation of the river's flow causing his tardy arrival. The sole remaining enemy giving him not interest whatsoever in aiding his allies. However, as he stepped foot on land again he noticed the large amount of warrior's approaching Zarif. He doubted the merchant's capabilities at facing 5 enemies at once.

Siris: "Zarif damn you! Using a horse is cheating, lead them this way so we can have a fair competition!"

Iddin strides forward, cursing his companion’s recklessness under his breath. He gives a cursory nod to Ia… but no acknowledgement beyond that. She was under control.

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The dust around Siris stings his eye, but he doesn’t wipe it away. Instead, he fixes his gaze on Zarif, who’s seemingly sprinting in retreat.

Zarif has already dispatched one enemy, but the rest of the mounted soldiers were closing in. Siris narrows his eyes, gripping a dagger in his hand and removing the shield from his back and adjusting it onto his arm. He couldn't help but thinking to himself that against all that reach and movement that those lance horsemen had, he needed to focus on his speed and defense as much as possible if had any possibility of surviving his next idea.

"Zarif!" Siris yells, his voice cutting through the sounds of galloping horses. "What are you doing?!"

"Is a little blood all it takes for you to run?" Siris laughs, hurting his injured body, but trying not to show it. He raises a finger, wagging it mockingly. He gestures toward the remaining enemies. "Slay at least one more. Unless you’re content counting coins and would prefer letting me have all the glory—again."

Before receiving a response and with no further words, Siris turns on his heel.
He bolts toward the group of mounted soldiers alone, his wounded leg slowing him only slightly.

One of the horsemen spots Siris and charges, lowering a spear in his direction. Siris doesn’t stop. Instead, he shifts his weight mid-run and, with precise aim, hurls his dagger. The blade whirls through the air, embedding itself in the rider’s side.

The man wobbles in the saddle, his balance faltering, but he doesn’t fall. Siris doesn’t wait, he closes the distance in a heartbeat. Using the momentum of his sprint, he leaps into the air, drawing a second dagger with a reverse grip from his belt before the enemy can think about attacking.

The blade flashes for an instant as Siris slashes across the rider’s chest.
Blood sprays, but the man grits his teeth and remains upright, refusing to go down. Siris lands on the ground with a thud, rolling to absorb the impact before springing to his feet.

"Not bad, stubborn bastard" Siris already adjusting his stance. He raises his shield, ready for the remaining enemies to attack.

Iddin shakes his head at both Ia and the crew.

Iddin: Zuzu’s grace is great! But if you want to be under the earth so badly, he will not save you forever.

The priest moves slightly forward to meet Zarif, stomping to bring up dust. He torques his staff to send it in, searing as per usual.

Iddin: Zuzu slows your rush from eternity! Embrace his blessing to annihilate the remaining heretics!

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