The moment Gareth's order leaves his mouth, the world erupts.
Not just boots, but a tidal wave of sound — thousands of armored feet thunder forward, shaking the earth beneath us. The air screams with mana tension, the sharp scent of killing intent, and the electric weight of inevitability.
I run.
Sword low. Breath sharp. Heart pounding.
The dark tide surges to meet us — a living wall of dripping fangs, tangled claws, and mindless fury.
The sky above turns gray as dust and mana flares fill the air, swallowing sunlight.
Screams tear through the field. Human. Monster. Both.
The first impact comes like thunder.
A massive scaled beast, ten feet tall, leaps through the air, crashing into the front line. Its claws rip through armor like paper, sending two knights flying backward, blood spraying like mist.
Their bodies don't even hit the ground when the next wave follows.
"Hold the line!" Gareth roars, his voice slicing through the chaos.
Spears thrust forward in unison, a forest of steel meeting the tide. The front ranks impale the charging monsters; crimson gushes down wooden shafts as bodies collapse in spasms.
But for every creature that falls, five more appear behind it.
Endless. Crawling. Writhing.
The battlefield becomes a nightmare of sound — steel clashing, bones cracking, screams drowning screams. The smell of blood and dirt thickens until it burns the lungs.
A horned beast lunges at me, its fangs aimed at my throat.
I duck, twist, and drive my sword upward. The steel slices straight through its jaw, into the skull, and the impact shoves a blinding shockwave up my arm.
It falls with a wet thud.
Hot blood splashes across my face.
My heartbeat rocks my chest. The darkness stirs again.
I feel it moving beneath my skin — alive, coiling, whispering.
Kill.
Bleed.
More.
The voice isn't Noctharion's. It is mine.
Another creature charges — a two-headed wolf with bone spikes along its spine.
I step aside, blade flashing, cutting deep into its neck. One head falls; the other snaps at me in blind rage, teeth scraping against my armor. I ram my sword into its eye, twist, and pull free.
Its body collapses, twitching.
The ground is slick with blood.
Beside me, Daren screams — not in fear, but rage — and drives his spear through a monster's chest. John covers his flank, Nicholas crushes another beast's skull with his shield.
For a moment, the line holds.
We are fighting.
Surviving.
Bleeding together.
But this is only the beginning.
The real beasts haven't even taken the field yet.
Right now, we fight nothing but fodder — bodies thrown to die, meant only to exhaust us before the true wave begins. They are expendable creatures sent to soften the line.
Barely B-rank at best. Not a single A-rank among them.
Even on our side, we have only one A-rank — Gareth — and a handful of B-ranks. The real army is still waiting behind the fortress walls, saving their strength for when the true tide arrives.
A sudden roar snaps me back.
A monster leaps toward me, jaws wide, claws flashing. I raise my sword just in time. The impact hits like a hammer, driving me to the ground.
Its claws stop an inch from my face, caught by the edge of my blade.
The creature snarls, its hot, blood-soaked breath washing over me. The stench burns my throat. I taste iron as its drool splatters across my lips.
Then I move.
Mana surges through my arm, fire flaring to life. I force it down the blade, straight into the beast's mouth.
A muffled explosion erupts from within.
Flames tear through its throat, bursting from its neck in a flash of light. Blood and charred flesh rain down on me.
The monster convulses once, then collapses beside me — lifeless, smoking. The ground shudders beneath its weight.
I push myself up, blood-soaked and reeking of burnt flesh. The stench makes me wince; the smell clings to my throat like smoke. But there is no time to care — another monster is already charging at me.
It is massive, like a grizzly bear but twice the size. Razor-sharp claws glint under the dim light, and jagged spikes run down its spine like blades. Its growl shakes the air.
The claws descend toward me, fast and heavy — but my sword is faster.
I draw in mana, coating my blade in a faint shimmer of aura. The moment steel meets flesh, its claws split apart with no resistance.
A piercing roar escapes its throat.
Normally, cutting through a monster this large would take more than brute force, even with aura. But my control is sharp, precise. It feels like slicing through soft clay.
The beast glares at me, hatred burning in its eyes. Then, with another growl, it lunges again — this time, more cautious. Smarter.
Doesn't matter.
Before it can even close the distance, my sword flashes once more. Its second arm hits the ground. A clean, perfect cut.
The next heartbeat, my blade pierces its skull.
The light in its eyes vanishes. Its body crumples at my feet, twitching once before going still.
I exhale, chest rising and falling with the rhythm of battle.
Around me, the ground is littered with corpses — monsters and knights alike, tangled in pools of blood and broken steel. The survivors are barely standing; many are wounded, some missing limbs, all drenched in sweat and despair.
At the front, Gareth still fights like an unyielding storm — not a single injury marks his body. His spear moves with terrifying precision; every thrust ends a life.
But the tide hasn't stopped.
The monsters keep coming, wave after wave, surging past us toward the fortress. The sky above is thick with dust and mana light.
Yet they can't break through.
On the fortress walls, mages stand in rigid formation, their chants echoing across the battlefield. Bolts of flame, lightning, and ice rain down like divine judgment, tearing through the advancing hordes.
A new wall of monsters forms before the fortress gates — a living barrier of flesh and fury.
And still, they come.
More monsters come.
And the more we fight, the more we bleed.
The ground is no longer soil; it's a mire of blood, flesh, and crushed armor. Every step sinks. Every breath burns. The air is so thick with iron and smoke it scrapes my lungs raw.
We fight like dying men clinging to purpose.
Blades dull. Shields crack. Screams drown beneath the roars of beasts.
A massive wolf-like creature pounces toward Nicholas. Its fangs sink into his shield, but before it can break through, Daren's spear pierces its ribs, twisting until the creature goes limp.
Nicholas collapses backward, panting, blood smeared across his face.
"You alive?" Daren shouts.
Nicholas gives a shaky nod. "Barely."
There is no time to rest. Another wave is already upon us.
"Push forward!" Gareth's voice cuts through the chaos. "Don't let them break the line!"
But the line is already breaking.
What once was a perfect formation is now splintered, swallowed by sheer numbers. I can barely see Gareth through the swarm — his form is a blur; only the flicker of his spear, flashing like lightning in a storm, is visible.
Every strike he makes kills a monster.
Every breath he takes reminds us what strength really means.
But we are not Gareth.
I slash through another beast, severing its neck. The recoil numbs my arm. My muscles scream. My mana flickers — thin, unstable, fading like a dying ember.
Then — a scream.
John.
I turn just in time to see him fall, a claw tearing through his side. Blood sprays through the air as the monster looms over him, jaws open wide.
"John!"
I don't think — I just move.
Aura surges down my arm, and my blade flashes. One horizontal slash splits the creature in half before it can devour him.
John gasps, clutching his wound. "T-thanks… Kael…"
"Don't talk," I hiss, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward a cluster of battered knights forming a shaky defense.
Behind us, the monsters howl again.
The sky trembles with their hunger.
Everywhere I look — men dying, monsters dying, the world painted in red.
We are still standing… but for how long?
My vision blurs. My aura pulses erratically under my skin; it's wild, dark, whispering.
More…
That voice again.
Crawling through my head like a living shadow.
Kill more.
I clench my jaw, shaking my head. But every heartbeat makes it louder. Every scream makes it stronger.
And then —
The earth shakes.
Everything stops.
The monsters.
The knights.
Even the mana in the air freezes — like the world itself holds its breath.
A suffocating dread falls over the battlefield.
My body trembles. My instincts scream.
Then it comes — a growl.
Low at first, then rising, tearing through the silence.
A sound so deep it rattles bones, so heavy it crushes thought.
The ground quivers beneath my boots. My skull throbs with pain — it feels like the growl crawls inside my head, shattering something within.
Knights scream, clutching their ears. Some drop their weapons and fall.
Even the monsters falter.
Their snarls fade, their bodies crouch low — as if bowing to something greater.
And then… Gareth.
The man who hasn't wavered once, whose spear hasn't missed a single strike — is trembling.
His eyes fix on the treeline ahead, his face pale.
Something is coming.
Something ancient.
Something wrong.
Whatever it is… it isn't good for us.