The hour had come.
The air vibrated with an unnatural hum, like the world itself was holding its breath. The shadow on the horizon solidified, and every soldier on the northern plains felt it — a pressure that squeezed the lungs, weighed down the bones, and made the sky darken unnaturally.
Then it stepped forward.
A colossal form emerged from the horizon, a Calamity-Class known as Vorathrax, the Cataclysm Maw. Its body was a jagged amalgam of blackened stone and molten crystal, veins of flowing lava and dark energy coiling across its scales. From its gaping maw to the jagged spines along its back, it radiated destruction. Its presence alone made the mountains tremble. Its type: Elemental Cataclysm, a dual affinity of Fire and Shadow, capable of erupting volcanoes, summoning shadow storms, and annihilating entire armies with ease.
The battalion lined up, fear etched into their faces, yet resolve burning brighter. Their commander, a grizzled veteran named Captain Tharen Vos, stepped forward atop a ridge, his armor scorched from Pyrrhagon's battle but his posture unwavering.
"Soldiers!" His voice cut like steel over the trembling plains. "Today, you face a being older than kingdoms, a force that could erase this village with a thought! And yet…" He paused, scanning their anxious, sweat-drenched faces. "And yet we stand! Because we fight not for glory, not for gold… but for those who cannot fight for themselves. Your families! Your children! The lives of those who look to us for protection!"
He drew his sword, the steel glinting in the eerie light of Vorathrax's presence. "We will die today, perhaps. But we die as men of honor, standing against annihilation. Strike true! Hold your line! Protect your village!"
A thunderous roar erupted from the soldiers as they lifted their weapons. Even as Vorathrax advanced, the ground cracking with every step, their morale surged — a wave of courage, however brief, against a force that should not be stopped.
Kael, wind affinity crackling along his arms, leapt forward, cutting through enemy lines to reach the monster's flank. He weaved currents of wind to deflect molten shards Vorathrax spat, kicking them back like arrows.
Calen and Rhydor flanked the other side, spear and sword moving in perfect choreography, striking at the creature's joints, attempting to slow its advance.
Varian planted his greatsword into the ground, summoning a Titanic Aura, amplifying the soldiers' stamina, deflecting smaller projectiles of molten rock with shockwaves that rippled from the earth.
For a moment, the battlefield seemed almost balanced — bravery against inevitability.
Then Vorathrax's maw opened wide, dark flames lashing across the plains.
The soldiers screamed as the firestorm engulfed them. Some died instantly, others disintegrated in molten shadows. Captain Tharen raised his sword one last time, his booming voice carrying across the chaos:
"DO NOT FORGET WHY YOU STAND! EVEN IF YOU FALL — WE PROTECT THOSE WHO CANNOT DEFEND THEMSELVES!"
He charged headlong into the inferno, knowing the strike would be his last, yet inspiring every soldier behind him to keep moving, to buy time, to stand for the people.
Vorathrax was a nightmare made real. Its base phase alone could crush battalions:
Molten Shards: Spines along its back launched fiery projectiles that melted shields and armor. Shadow Swarm: Dark tendrils erupted from its body, slashing anyone who came too close. Earthquake Step: Each stride fractured the plains, throwing soldiers and siege engines into disarray.
Kael dodged a molten shard, twisting midair with a gust of wind to redirect it, smashing it into the ground. Calen's spear struck a weak point at the knee, but the joint was reinforced with molten crystal — the tip shattered.
Varian swung with all his might, cleaving through blackened rock, yet Vorathrax shrugged off the strike like it was paper. Every attack met resistance; every move seemed anticipated.
And then — the world shook as Vorathrax roared, black energy coiling around its body, fire erupting higher than the sky itself.
Its second phase began: the Eclipse Form.
Molten veins glowed white-hot, shadow tendrils expanded like wings, and the monster's eyes burned like twin suns. The air bent unnaturally around it, gravity distorting, heat melting everything nearby.
Kael gritted his teeth, wind whipping into a protective sphere around the squad. Rhydor's sword glowed with runes, Calen's spear sparking with electricity from contact with the storm surrounding the creature. Varian's aura flared, energy pushing the soldiers back from immediate danger.
But even together, they were being overwhelmed.
Vorathrax slammed its massive claw down, the shockwave tearing the earth and hurling soldiers into the air like ragdolls. Shadow tendrils lashed out, ripping siege engines apart, molten lava spilling over defenses.
Kael launched himself toward the monster's head, fists spinning in a storm of wind, attempting to blind it with velocity — but Vorathrax caught the force with one massive claw, tossing him aside like a toy.
Calen and Rhydor struck simultaneously, but their coordinated strikes only created minor fractures along molten crystal. The monster's form shifted constantly, regenerating its wounds almost as fast as they were inflicted.
Varian slammed his greatsword against the ground, sending a shockwave to stabilize his allies, yet the sheer force of Vorathrax's steps threatened to topple them anyway.
Even the seasoned warriors of the continent were being crushed under the power of a Calamity-Class.
The soldiers continued to fall, some screaming, some praying, all buying precious seconds for Lyanna and the village. Captain Tharen's sacrifice became a symbol of defiance — his voice ringing in the chaos, rallying courage.
Kael gritted his teeth as he scrambled to his feet, summoning a wind vortex to shield a group of soldiers from the monster's shadow spikes. Varian shouted orders, countering attacks while protecting as many civilians as possible. Calen and Rhydor danced around the creature, hitting weak points that appeared for a fleeting moment before healing.
Yet the monster's transformation made it almost untouchable — each phase faster, more destructive, and smarter than any natural enemy.
And still… Eryndor slept.
Somewhere in the astral sky, his storm simmered, sensing the calamity unfolding below.
The battlefield had become a war of survival, and the Deynars were struggling to hold the line.