The village's southern edge fell into silence for only a heartbeat before the world exploded around them.
From the treeline, a wave of shapes surged forth—orc after orc, wolves snapping at their heels, and hulking ogres lumbering behind them with guttural bellows that shook the ash from ruined rooftops. Red eyes gleamed like coals in the gloom, each one burning with that same manic frenzy the scouts had shown. It wasn't a patrol. It was a warband.
Velra's voice snapped like a whip across the chaos. "Shields! Line up now! Casters—barrier front, fire second line! Spears, brace!"
The adventurers scrambled into position, training snapping into instinct. Heavy shields slammed into the dirt, forming a jagged wall as glowing runes flared across mage-cast wards. The monsters hit seconds later with a bone-rattling CRASH, the sound of metal and flesh colliding reverberating through the square. The impact sent weaker fighters stumbling, but the line held.
Drathan stood just behind the front, his void swirling lazily in his hands like smoke waiting to be unleashed. He glanced sidelong at Kenshin. "Bet you ten gold you can't fry more than five in one shot."
Kenshin's grin flashed wicked as lightning gathered in his palms, sparks crackling so bright they stung the eyes. "Bet? Bruh, watch me."
He thrust both hands forward, a roaring column of lightning tearing through the first rank of orcs. Bodies convulsed mid-leap before collapsing into smoking heaps. Six fell, twitching. Kenshin barked a laugh, sweat already glistening on his brow. "Pay up."
Seme roared, cleaving down an ogre's knee with a brutal strike. Her greatsword bit deep, snapping bone. The beast collapsed to one side with a scream, crushing two frenzied wolves beneath its bulk. "Keep count later! They're not stoppin'!"
Indeed, the horde pressed harder, bodies hurling themselves against shields as though pain didn't exist. A spear caught an orc through the gut; he shoved himself farther down the shaft, snapping the wood as he clawed toward the adventurer holding it. Screams, both human and inhuman, filled the night air.
Velra's squad moved like a machine—swordsman carving down anything that slipped past the shield wall, archers raining shafts into the wolves darting for flanks. "Rotate shield!" Velra barked, and the front line shifted seamlessly, fresh fighters stepping up before the weary could fall.
Mira weaved through the melee, daggers flashing like silver. She hamstrung one wolf, then another, rolling beneath a wild swing of an ogre's club. Her ears twitched, catching Velra's commands even in the bedlam. "Left flank's breaking!" she shouted, springing toward the weak point.
Drathan flicked his wrist, void energy cracking the air. A circle of darkness erupted around the faltering line, pulling three orcs screaming into the void. They reemerged twisted and broken, their frenzy snuffed. "Line's good now," he muttered, his tone calm, but his eyes sharp with focus.
Kenshin streaked past, lightning dancing across his entire frame, laughter wild. "Yo, this is a raid! Ain't no way this random-ass warband movin' like this without a boss hidin' somewhere!"
The ogres hammered at the front, each blow like a siege weapon. One shield caved, sending its bearer sprawling with a cry. Before an orc could finish him, Seme's blade flashed, splitting the creature in half with a single overhead swing. She planted herself before the fallen man, her voice raw. "Get up or get left!"
Arrows hissed down from rooftop positions as other squads joined, volleys piercing wolves mid-leap. The air grew thick with blood, ozone, and smoke. Every heartbeat was another clash of steel and bone, another desperate hold against the tide.
And still, the horde pressed on, unending, unflinching.
Drathan's eyes narrowed as he watched their movements. Even in chaos, their charge angled south, toward the marsh. His stomach coiled tight with unease. They ain't just fightin'. They drivin' us somewhere.
Velra's command tore through the madness once more: "Hold the square! We break, we die!"
The adventurers roared as one, blades raised high, ready to meet the next wave.
The treeline erupted again. This time, the sheer volume of creatures made the ground tremble—wolves in dozens, orcs shrieking like damned souls, ogres smashing through trunks as if they were kindling. The frenzy was spreading; their bloodshot eyes burned brighter, froth dripping from mouths. They looked less like beasts and more like puppets thrashing under unseen strings.
"AMBUSH!" someone screamed, though it was already too late.
Velra's voice cut through the storm. "Front line, brace! Casters stagger volleys—don't blow it all at once! Healers, rotate positions!"
The lines clashed once more. Shields shuddered, splintered, but held. Spears jabbed and snapped, buying precious seconds. Fireballs screamed through the air—FWOOOSH!—while ice spears shattered on ogre hides with CRRRRSH!.
Yet nothing fell cleanly. Ogres with half their faces burned still swung harder. Wolves with arrows in both lungs still lunged, dragging men down in sprays of blood. Orcs kept screaming, ripping into shields with bare claws when their weapons broke.
Velra's gut churned as she cut one down, blood spraying across her face. This isn't just bloodlust. They're too far gone. Someone's forcing this.
Mira's blades carved through tendons and throats, but every time she dropped one, another came snapping for her ankles. Her body ached from rolls, her breaths sharp and fast. There's no end. Damn it, there's no end.
Kenshin unleashed another storm, lightning chaining through a knot of beasts—KRRRRAAA-THOOM!—but he stumbled after, chest heaving. "Fuck… they just keep comin'."
Seme planted her boots in blood-soaked mud, greatsword dripping red. Her shoulders heaved, sweat streaking grime down her face, but her eyes still blazed. "Bring more, I'll cut more!" she roared, swinging wide enough to cleave three wolves in a single arc.
Drathan stood calm amid the storm, but even his lazy smirk had vanished. His void coiled like a living thing, tearing creatures apart in warps of pressure that left limbs mangled and bones shattered. His thoughts cut sharp. Not chaos. A plan. We're bein' softened up.
The battle stretched brutal and long. Adventurers fell—some screaming, some silent as claws and tusks ripped through armor. Others dragged comrades back only to be snatched themselves in a frenzy of fangs. Blood turned dirt to black mud beneath their boots.
Velra's voice was hoarse from shouting orders, her arms heavy with the weight of every swing. Kenshin's lightning grew ragged, arcs sputtering more than striking. Mira's lungs burned, her daggers slick with gore. Seme's shoulders screamed from every clash, yet she refused to let her blade fall. And Drathan's eyes gleamed with the void's cold hunger, his shadows striking sharper each time.
The square had become a slaughterhouse—but the line, battered and bloodied, still held.
By the time the horde's last wave broke against their shields, the ground was piled with corpses, smoke hanging thick in the night air. The cost was steep—adventurers lay scattered, healers weeping over those they couldn't save. The field reeked of charred flesh and coppery blood.
But through the ruin and exhaustion, Velra, Mira, Kenshin, Seme, and Drathan still stood, weapons dripping, eyes burning, ready for whatever horror would come next.
The woods split open with violence.
Dozens of shapes tore out of the treeline at once—marshwolves with their stone-hide scales glistening damp under the light, ogres smashing through brush with tree-trunks used as clubs, and more of the bloodshot-eyed orcs shrieking like demons unchained. The sound was overwhelming—RRRROOOOAAARR!SKREEEE!WHOOOMPH!—a storm of guttural cries and thundering footfalls that shook the ground beneath their boots.
"AMBUSH!" someone screamed.
Velra didn't flinch. Her voice cracked like a whip over the din. "Shields front! Casters stagger your volleys! Keep the healers safe!"
The squads moved in practiced chaos. A rank of shieldbearers slammed together, the CLANG! of steel on steel ringing as their line braced the charge. Behind them, fireballs and ice-lances streaked through the air—FWOOOSH!CRACK!—exploding into showers of cinders and frost that sent sprays of blood and smoke skyward.
But the monsters didn't fall as they should have.
An ogre took a fireball straight to the chest, its skin blackening, flesh peeling. It should've collapsed, but instead it roared louder, charging harder, swinging its makeshift club into the shield wall. BOOOM! Two shieldbearers went flying like ragdolls, bones cracking audibly as they hit the dirt.
"THEY DON'T STOP!" a young archer cried out, loosing arrow after arrow. His shots thudded into a wolf's flank, but the beast only snarled, blood frothing from its mouth as it leapt for his throat.
Mira was there in a blur—daggers flashing silver. SHIKK! She slashed the wolf's neck, rolling beneath its snapping jaws. Her heart hammered, but her mind was cold, focused. They're too wild. They don't care about wounds. Something's driving them.
"Left flank, cover!" Velra barked, parrying an orc's axe with a sharp CLANG! before spinning into a counter, her blade cleaving through tendon and bone. "Don't give 'em room to swarm!"
The trio held their ground at the center.
Kenshin was lightning incarnate. His body blurred as he zipped across the battlefield, static sparking with every step. ZAP! ZAP! He darted between ogres and wolves alike, building charge with each hit until his body hummed with power. With a wild grin, he released it in a storm. KRRRRAAA-THOOM! A chain of bolts ripped across the front lines, frying half a dozen beasts in a single crack of blue fury.
The scent of ozone and burnt flesh thickened the air, making some adventurers gag even as relief washed over their faces.
"BRO COOKIN' 'EM UP!" someone shouted, morale lifting for an instant.
Seme was the wall they broke against. Her greatsword rose and fell in brutal arcs—WHOOOSH! CLANG! CRACK!—each swing cleaving through flesh, stone, or bone without hesitation. She met a charging ogre head-on, blade sparking as it clashed against the creature's club. Muscles straining, she shoved forward with a roar, the ground itself trembling before she pivoted into a downward strike that split the ogre's skull like an overripe melon. Blood sprayed hot across her armor, but her eyes only burned brighter.
"NEXT!" she growled.
Drathan stayed behind the line, lounging against a broken stump with one hand casually raised. Shadows bled from his fingertips, tendrils of void twisting through the chaos. When a wolf leapt for a healer, the air warped with a sickening WHOOMPH! and the beast vanished—reappearing midair above a knot of orcs. It crashed down with bone-crunching force, scattering them like dice on stone.
He smirked lazily, muttering under his breath. "Don't even gotta stand up for y'all."
"Quit actin' lazy and pull your weight!" Kenshin shouted between sparks.
"Weight's pulled," Drathan replied smoothly, flicking another wolf into a tree with a ripple of void-space that shattered bark.
Other squads fought with desperate synergy, each team showing their craft.
One squad of A-rank mages linked hands, chanting in unison. The air grew heavy, heat shimmering before a torrent of flame erupted outward in a wide arc. FWWOOOOOSH! A wall of fire cut through wolves in droves, the stench of burnt fur choking the air.
Another squad—B-rank rogues and rangers—darted along the periphery. Their arrows whistled, glowing faint green with poison tips, while the rogues flanked wolves distracted by the shield wall. Together, they executed with lethal precision—strike, retreat, strike again.
Yet the frenzy didn't stop.
The monsters fought like they felt no pain, like death itself was no deterrent. Even with heads half caved in or arrows bristling from their torsos, they kept moving. Some bled out on the run, collapsing mid-charge, but most tore into the lines with suicidal ferocity.
Velra's inner thoughts sharpened, her instincts screaming. This isn't random. Someone—something—is pushing them into this madness. Orcs, ogres, wolves… all frenzying together? There's a mind behind this.
"DON'T LOSE FOCUS!" she roared, blade cutting another wolf in half. "They bleed like anything else—MAKE 'EM BLEED!"
The fight dragged into a storm of sound and fury. Screams, roars, the crash of steel, the sizzle of magic—all of it blending into a cacophony that pressed down like thunder. Dirt turned to mud with blood. Smoke rose from charred corpses. The squads moved like living machines—each part bruised and battered, but grinding forward with teeth bared.
And still, the red eyes burned from the treeline.
Another wave waited.