The air thickened long before the monsters appeared.
Eryndor stepped outside with Kael at his side, the house still humming with the warmth of Lyanna's presence behind him. But outside, the horizon was bruised purple with gathering clouds, and the ground itself trembled beneath the steady march of beasts.
From the town walls, horns blared. Soldiers scrambled into formation, their shouts fractured by the earth's rumbling.
"They're coming again," Kael muttered, rolling his shoulders. "And this time… it feels different."
Lyanna's father emerged from the gates clad in worn armor, his blade already slung across his back. He was a man of iron features, lines of age carved into his face but strength radiating in every step.
"Lord Varian Deynar," a soldier saluted, relief in his voice.
Varian only nodded, his gaze turning to Eryndor. "You're awake. Good. Because what's coming won't be stopped by one man alone. Tonight, the Deynars fight together."
From the ranks stepped Lyanna's two brothers.
The first, taller and scarred, was the one Eryndor had already met at the academy, the man who once held the title of top student before Eryndor shattered it in battle. His name carried a sharpness that fit him: Calen Deynar. His spear rested easily in his hands, his eyes full of quiet rivalry, but also respect.
The second brother, younger but no less dangerous, introduced himself simply: Rhydor Deynar, sword strapped to his hip, his movements measured like a veteran despite his age.
Together, they stood beside Varian, Kael, and Eryndor. A wall of steel and storm.
The first wave arrived in fury. Armored beasts with tusks like razors, wolf-like creatures with glowing veins of fire, and winged predators that blotted out the setting sun.
"Formation!" Varian roared, his voice carrying like thunder.
Eryndor surged forward, storm crackling along his fists. He didn't need to think — instinct carried him. Lightning wove with wind, a dance he had practiced endlessly in the astral sky. His strikes carved through beasts, each blow clean, precise, devastating.
Kael moved beside him, fists shattering bone, his movements raw and brutal, contrasting Eryndor's sharpened grace.
Behind them, Calen's spear spun like a cyclone, cutting wide arcs that impaled multiple foes, while Rhydor's swordplay was surgical, each thrust and slash designed to kill with the fewest movements.
And Varian — gods, Varian — was a storm unto himself. His greatsword crashed through monster after monster, cleaving them like brittle wood. The family's bond was visible in their movements, each strike flowing into the next, each defense reinforcing the other.
For the first time, Eryndor wasn't fighting alone.
Then the ground split.
From the chasm, a roar tore across the battlefield, shaking stone and marrow alike. The smaller monsters scattered in panic as something vast clawed its way free.
It stood taller than the fortress walls, its body a nightmare of obsidian scales threaded with glowing veins of molten red. Two jagged horns crowned its head, and its maw burned with a fire older than men.
"By the Ancients…" Rhydor whispered.
Varian's face hardened. "A World-Class Monster."
Its name echoed in the minds of those who faced it, as if whispered by the void itself:
"Pyrrhagon, the Infernal Behemoth."
Its very presence warped the air, heat waves rippling across the battlefield. The soldiers faltered. Some dropped their weapons.
But not the Deynars. Not Kael. Not Eryndor.
"Together," Varian said, leveling his blade.
Eryndor's storm flared, blue arcs dancing across his body as wind curled at his feet. His eyes locked on the towering behemoth.
"Then together it is."
The beast roared again, magma dripping from its jaws like liquid fire, and the battle for survival began.