Their reckless courage reignited the students around them.
Shields slammed together with renewed force as defenders drove forward in a wall of steel. Mages chanted in unison, sending a rain of firebolts into the enemy ranks.
Flames erupted in dazzling bursts, burning through the black smoke and turning night into day.
For a heartbeat, it felt as though the students might turn the tide. Their war cries rose above the chaos, echoing against the shattered buildings.
Prisoners fell screaming beneath the storm of steel and magic.
But the enemy's hunger for blood did not wane.
From a distant ridge, high above the burning village, there stood another shadow disciple.
The Shadow Disciple stood hidden among the rocks. His cold voice drifted on the wind, unheard by the desperate fighters below.
"Yes… fight harder," he whispered, a cruel smile curling across his lips.
"Every drop of blood, every scream of despair—it feeds the darkness. Soon, the true hunt will begin."
