The swarm did not stop. It was like fighting the tide itself—every time one Ant fell, three more clawed out from the ground. Their screeches shook the trees, their elemental blasts scarred the battlefield until it became a wasteland of fire, frost, poison, and blood.
Venus's gauntlets cracked as she shattered the skull of a Poison Ant, coughing blood from the toxins that burned in her lungs. Felix's arm was torn and bleeding, his sword arm trembling, yet his strikes remained fierce. Irina's arrows had dwindled, and she had to draw her dagger, slashing through Ants in desperate close combat.
Only Rudos's light held them together, weaving spell after spell, sweat dripping down his pale face as he forced his body to keep pouring healing magic into his comrades.
The endless pressure bore down on them. Their bodies screamed for rest. The thought of failure clawed at the edges of their minds.
But then—
