Dante groaned, a low, guttural sound of pure agony. The world was a swirling vortex of heat and pain. Around him, the forest was a raging inferno, the air thick with the choking smell of ash and cooked earth.
Beside him stood Kael, his face a pale mask of shock and awe, his body trembling from the aftershocks of Erica's apocalyptic power. Kael had saved him from the blast, but Dante's own weakness was a prison. The gash in his side was a searing fire, and the psychic backlash from losing his puppets had left his mind feeling raw and exposed.
And then, a new sound cut through the roar of the flames. It was not the crackle of burning wood or the hiss of melting rock.
It was a roar.
A deep, guttural, earth-shaking roar of such profound power and dominance that it made the goblin shrieks of their past battles sound like the chirping of insects. It was the sound of a true predator announcing its arrival, a king claiming its territory.
They had crossed a line. Erica's blast had not just cleared the battlefield; it had torn a hole through the very fabric of the forest's zones. The invisible barrier that separated the nursery of Zone E from the next level of hell had been obliterated. They were now standing on the frontier of Zone D.
And the first monster Dante saw terrified him to his very soul.
It stepped out from behind a curtain of flame, its massive form seemingly untouched by the heat. It was an orc. But this was not the simple, brutish creature of fantasy novels. It stood nearly seven feet tall, its body a terrifying landscape of corded muscle and thick, scarred, olive-green hide. Two massive tusks, yellowed and sharp as daggers, jutted from its powerful underjaw. It wore crude, heavy armor of blackened iron plates bolted directly into its flesh, and in one massive hand, it held a war axe that looked more like a sharpened anvil. But the true terror was in its eyes. They were small, red, and burned with a malevolent, cunning intelligence. This was not a mindless beast. This was a warrior.
Then, what terrified him more was what came next. It wasn't alone.
From the inferno behind it, more figures emerged. Dozens of them. A horde of orcs, each one a monster in its own right, their brutish strength matched by the same intelligent, hateful glare.
Dante gulped, the simple act of swallowing a painful effort. He looked at Kael. His face was ashen, his eyes locked on the approaching horde. This was a disciplined, silent army of monsters. This was the difference between Zone E and Zone D.
They walked toward them, their heavy, armored footsteps slow and deliberate. They weren't charging. It was the casual, unhurried walk of a pride of lions approaching a wounded gazelle. They knew the heroes were helpless. They knew they were their prey.
More of them appeared from the burning woods to their left and right, forming a perfect, closing circle of death.
Just as the lead orc, the tusked champion, raised its massive axe, a streak of silver light shot from the trees. It was Talia. She landed like a phantom, her rapier a blur as she struck at the champion's exposed knee. Her blade, which had pierced goblin flesh with ease, scraped against the orc's thick hide with a screech of metal on stone, leaving only a shallow scratch.
The orc grunted, more in annoyance than in pain, and swatted at her as one would a fly.
Talia danced back, her eyes wide with shock, but she had bought the time they needed.
"Get to him!" Masha's voice commanded. A shimmering wall of thick ice erupted from the ground, a massive barrier that momentarily halted the horde's advance. From behind it, the rest of the team charged. Eric planted himself in front of Dante and Kael, a living mountain. Jin stood beside him, his sword ready. Rina and Edgar rushed to their side, Rina immediately kneeling, her hands glowing as she tried to stabilize Dante's wound.
And then came Erica. She strode through the flames, her own fire magic making her immune to the heat. The rage was still in her eyes, but it was now tempered by a desperate need to protect.
The orcs were not impressed. The champion slammed its massive axe against Masha's ice wall.
CRACK!
The entire structure shuddered. Dante clutched his side, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the cold dread. Edgar, analysis.
The information flowed into his mind from his loyal summon, a stream of chilling data. Orc Warriors. Rank D. High health, high physical attack and defense. Resistant to low-level magic. Weak points: joints and eyes, but armor plating is thick.
The ice wall exploded into a shower of frozen shards as the champion and two other brutes smashed through it. The fight began.
It was a battle unlike any they had ever faced. The champion's axe slammed into Eric's tower shield. The shield, which had held against Derek's artifact-fueled fury, groaned and buckled, the sheer force of the blow sending Eric sliding back several feet. He held, but only just.
Jin and Talia became a whirlwind of coordinated strikes, a dance of precision against power. Talia's Kinetic Eye would spot an opening, her rapier darting in to create a shallow wound that made an orc flinch. In that split second, Jin would follow up with a powerful, targeted strike. They managed to bring one of the spear-wielding orcs down, but it took more than a dozen combined hits to fell the beast. And for their trouble, they now had the attention of three more.
Masha and Erica were their artillery, but their magic was struggling. Masha's ice spears, which had impaled lesser foes, shattered harmlessly against the brutes' iron plating. She was forced to focus on the smaller orcs, using her ice to slow them, to control the battlefield. Erica's fireballs, once a source of overwhelming power, now seemed like angry sparks against their thick hides. An orc she struck square in the chest roared in pain, its armor glowing red-hot, but it didn't stop. It charged right through the flames, wounded but very much alive.
This was a war of attrition they could not win. Rina was a blur, her hands glowing as she darted between Eric and Jin, mending deep cuts and crushing bruises. But for every wound she healed, two more appeared. The force of the orcs' blows was monstrous; even blocked hits were causing internal damage.
From his position on the ground, Dante could only watch, helpless. His mind, free from the strain of command, could see the battle with a terrifying clarity. He saw the patterns, the weaknesses, the impending doom. His team was fighting with more courage and power than he had ever seen from them. They were fighting like heroes.
But they were losing.
They had killed three of the smaller orcs, at a great cost of stamina and mana. But there were still more than thirty left. And the champion, the tusked monster leading them, had just broken past Eric's guard, its massive axe raised high, ready to bring it down and crush their frontline defender once and for all.
His team, his precious, powerful assets, were about to be systematically slaughtered. And there was nothing he could do but watch.