The ground shook as Pyrrhagon rose fully from the chasm, towering above the battlefield. Its obsidian hide glowed with cracks of molten fire, each breath spilling waves of heat that warped the air and blackened the earth.
One step, and a section of the outer wall crumbled. One roar, and soldiers dropped to their knees, clutching their ears in terror.
"Stand fast!" Varian thundered, his voice cutting through the chaos like steel. His greatsword gleamed in the firelight, held steady despite the monster's overwhelming presence.
Eryndor clenched his fists, arcs of blue lightning racing up his arms, the wind curling around his legs. Kael flexed his hands, already grinning despite the heat. Calen's spear whirled with precision, Rhydor's sword gleamed, and together the family of steel and storm braced against the nightmare before them.
As they spread out, Varian's voice carried over the roar of battle — not just to his family, but to every soldier on the field.
"Listen well! This is a World-Class Monster — a Pyrrhagon, born from the ancient flame that predates kingdoms. They are not mere beasts. They are calamities given flesh."
Pyrrhagon's eyes ignited, molten red, as if affirming the truth in Varian's words.
"There are five classes of monsters," Varian continued, swinging his greatsword to cleave through a wave of lesser beasts fleeing their master.
Feral Class – the common beasts, dangerous but manageable. Dire Class – larger, evolved predators with affinities. Cataclysm Class – monsters capable of leveling cities in hours. World-Class – beings of legend, disasters incarnate, their power rivaling nations. Apocalypse Class – the rarest, whispered in myths… monsters whose power can end continents, or perhaps the world itself.
"And Pyrrhagon—" Varian gritted his teeth as the behemoth raised a claw, molten light building at its core— "stands at the peak of World-Class. Few armies in history have slain one and lived to tell of it."
Pyrrhagon's claw swept sideways, magma dripping like fire-rain. Eryndor dashed forward, lightning cracking beneath his feet, intercepting with a storm-forged shield of arcs — Tempest Guard. The clash cracked the ground, forcing him back a dozen paces, but he held.
"Move!" Eryndor shouted, as Kael darted in, fists slamming into the monster's scorched leg. The impact sent ripples through the Behemoth's molten hide, but it hardly flinched.
Calen's spear followed, thrusting into a weak point between plates. Sparks flew, molten blood spattering the ground like lava. Rhydor seized the opening, blade flashing in precise cuts that deepened the wound.
Varian roared and swung his greatsword upward, the blow so heavy it split one of the Behemoth's claws. Pyrrhagon bellowed in fury, the ground quaking beneath its rage.
The Behemoth reared back, its chest swelling, light building beneath its scales.
"Scatter!" Varian barked.
Pyrrhagon unleashed a torrent of molten flame — a river of destruction that carved through fortifications and scorched the battlefield. Entire siege engines melted. Men who were too slow to move turned to ash in seconds.
Eryndor's storm flared to life, his wind rushing forward to split the fire, lightning dispersing the molten energy. The clash burned his skin raw, but he refused to back down.
"That's its Infernal Breath," Varian shouted over the roar. "One of the strongest weapons a World-Class can wield. It can erase an army in moments!"
Kael spat into the dirt. "Good thing we're not an army."
He launched himself onto Pyrrhagon's leg, fists smashing into molten cracks like thunderous drums. The Behemoth staggered, swiping at him, but Calen's spear intercepted, buying Kael another opening.
Every strike against Pyrrhagon felt like striking the mountain itself. But in that chaos, Eryndor felt something shift. The storm within him was sharper than ever — a result of his days in the astral sky.
"Lightning Flow Form…" he whispered, arcs tracing along his limbs. His strikes became faster, smoother, lightning streaming through each punch, each kick. Every movement was no longer just power, but precision.
He dodged the Behemoth's claw with Cyclone Step, wind twisting his path in a blur of unpredictability. He reappeared at Pyrrhagon's flank, his fists crashing into its molten scales, lightning searing cracks deep into its body.
For the first time, Pyrrhagon roared in pain.
Varian led the charge again, his blade glowing red-hot from the monster's own heat. Calen's spear whirled beside him, striking with surgical precision. Rhydor flanked from the opposite side, cutting into tendons with ruthless efficiency. Kael tore through molten scales with brute force, laughing through the chaos.
And above them all, Eryndor moved like a storm reborn, wind and lightning twisting together in a spectacle of raw defiance.
But Pyrrhagon was not yet finished.
The Behemoth's body erupted with cracks of fire, each one glowing brighter and brighter. The air thickened with killing heat, and Varian's face paled.
"It's preparing its Infernal Collapse — its ultimate attack. If it unleashes it, this entire region could vanish in fire."
Eryndor's heart hammered. His storm surged. For the first time in his life, he was about to face an attack capable of erasing everything.