The creature roared, a guttural sound that tore through the smoky air, its scorpion tail lashing as it burst through the splintered eastern palisade.
The village square, strewn with broken wooden stakes and churned mud, trembled under the weight of its grotesque form—a fusion of wolf and scorpion, its glistening chitin jerking with unnatural speed.
The sky above hung low with gray clouds, casting a cold shadow over the thatched roofs and scattered barrels, amplifying the chaos that followed.
It lunged at the nearest knight, its stinger a blur of poisoned chitin that sank into his chest.
The man's spear snapped uselessly against its hide, and he convulsed without a scream.
As his eyes rolled back, Ash felt it—a cold, violent pull in the air, a sucking sensation that ripped a wisp of silvery light from the man's body and drew it into the monster.
The creature shuddered, its movements growing sharper, hungrier. It was consuming their souls.
Ash stood frozen, the horrific truth locking his muscles. This was worse than death. This was eternal nothingness.
The monster's compound eyes and mandibles swiveled, locking onto Ash.
It ignored the shouting knights, the raised spears. His unchanged soul was a beacon in the gloom. It charged him.
Instinct kicked in.
Ash raised his hands, not to strike, but to resist. He poured his will into the space between them, Remembering it as a solid, unyielding wall.
A faint shimmer of white light flickered into existence.
The monster slammed into it with a gong-like crash, the impact jolting Ash with a blinding pain that sent blood trickling from his nose.
The barrier held for a heartbeat, baffling the creature, before shattering.
That moment was enough.
Finn grunted, a sound of raw effort, and his Essence of Stoneform rippled over him.
His skin turned to craggy granite, his muscles to shifting shale, transforming him into a moving mountain.
He met the charge with a shoulder-first crash, the impact echoing like a landslide.
His stone fists hammered the creature's carapace, breaking and stunning it.
Lyra darted in, her Essence of Umbral Step carrying her through shadows, her dark hair tied back in a tight braid, her black cloak fluttering as she wielded daggers to target the soft joints.
Blackthorn's katana sang, the Essence of Iron Resonance humming a deadly tune. His gray-streaked black hair was pulled into a tight knot, his dark green cloak with a faded clover emblem whipping in the wind.
His strikes were precise, aiming for metal buckles or rivets to shatter the creature's armor.
For a desperate, glorious moment, they were winning. Ash's defense had given them the edge.
Finn's stone fists gripped the disoriented monster, ripping the scorpion tail free in a spray of ichor, tossing it aside.
The wolf-body, now a confused beast, fell to a coordinated strike from Blackthorn and Lyra.
Silence fell, heavier than before, broken only by Ash's ragged breaths and the drip of gore from Finn's stone fists.
It lasted two heartbeats.
Then, from the eastern tree line, a new sound rose—a chorus of chittering clicks and scraping limbs, growing louder, closer.
Dozens of them.
Borin dropped to a knee, slamming his calloused hands into the churned earth.
His short, graying hair was matted with sweat, his worn brown tunic patched at the elbows clinging to his broad frame.
His eyes snapped open, wide with alarm.
"More! Dozens! They're not just at the breach—they're flanking from the river side! They're heading for the longhouse!" His voice boomed, cutting through the rising dread.
The breach had been a feint. The real attack targeted the longhouse, where civilians hid.
Captain Blackthorn's face turned to grim ice.
He assessed the chaos in an instant, his voice a whip-crack of command.
"Borin! Take your team, Sven, Ash follow them. Get to the longhouse. Hold the line. No monster reaches those people." He turned to Finn and Lyra, his gaze fierce.
"Finn, Lyra, with me. We find the source of this curse and end it."
The Mighty Men moved without hesitation. Ash, his mind reeling from the soul-snatching horror, felt Sven's firm grip on his arm.
Sven's faded green cloak hung over a dark leather vest, his blond hair cropped short, his scarred face set with resolve.
"Move, Ash! Now!" he urged, his Essence of the Focal Point steadying the chaos, sharpening focus and quelling panic among them.
Team Borin sprinted through the muddy square toward the longhouse, a sturdy structure of weathered wood with a steep roof.
Ash's gray tunic, patched and sweat-soaked, clung to his chest, his dark trousers torn at the knees tucked into scuffed leather boots.
His wild dark hair fell into his eyes as he ran, breath coming in gasps.
Ahead, a tide of nightmares emerged from the riverbank—twisted creatures with too many legs, glistening shells, and snapping jaws, driven by a chilling hunger.
Borin skidded to a halt near the longhouse doors, roaring as he channeled the Essence of Terra's Whisper.
He slammed his fists into the ground, and the earth rippled, hardening into a low, packed-earth wall that slowed the first monsters' charge.
"Stand firm!" he shouted, his voice a rock in the storm.
Sven stepped forward, his presence a beacon. "Shield the wall!" he called.
The knights, pale and trembling under dented helmets, formed a shaky line behind the wall, steadied by Sven's influence.
Ash joined them, his short sword feeling pitifully small.
A bloated, spidery horror leaped the wall, its legs clicking.
Ash acted on instinct, focusing his will.
He Remembered the air before a hiding woman as solid, and a faint white shimmer appeared for a heartbeat.
The creature crashed into it with a sickening crunch, stunned long enough for a knight to spear it.
Ash gasped, pain spiking behind his eyes, blood seeping from his nose. The effort drained him, but it bought time.
This was a brutal, grinding defense. Borin reinforced the earth, Sven held the knights together, and Ash flung desperate bursts of power—deflecting claws, shielding gaps—each use leaving him weaker, more terrified.
Farther off, Team Blackthorn fought a different battle.
Lyra, her dark hair in a tight braid, used her Essence of Umbral Step to slip through shadows, her black cloak blending with the gloom.
"The old mill! There's a tear in the air behind it! Things are crawling out!" she whispered, her voice carried on the wind.
They reached the mill, its old wooden walls sagging under years of neglect, to face the source—a jagged wound in the air, shimmering with violent purple energy.
Monsters clawed out, and before it stood a new general, taller and sharper, a nightmare of cold intelligence. The other creatures were insects—a chittering, frantic swarm of jagged limbs and glistening shells.
The being that emerged was their silent ruler, towering above, its form forged from gleaming obsidian and swirling shadow.
Where a face should have been, a smooth, light-devouring void stared back, chilling the air.
It moved without haste or sound, its presence a quiet erasure, draining warmth and hope with every step.
It moved to block them. Blackthorn's katana hummed with the Essence of Iron Resonance, his strikes precise, aiming to shatter the creature's armored plates.
Lyra darted around, her daggers seeking weak spots, but the monster anticipated her, forcing her back.
Finn waded through lesser beasts, his granite form swatting them aside, trying to reach the rift.
The fight stalled. They were pinned, unable to advance.
Finn saw the only way out. He met Blackthorn's eyes, nodding grimly.
With a roar of defiance, he unleashed the full Essence of Stoneform, his skin turning to granite, his body growing into a towering statue.
"Go! I'll hold it! Close the rift!" he boomed, charging the general.
His stone arms locked around the monster, an unbreakable grip. Blackthorn and Lyra broke away, racing for the pulsating rift.
The general didn't struggle. It placed a clawed hand on Finn's chest, curious almost.
Then it began to absorb him.
It wasn't a loud break. It was a silent, horrifying unraveling.
Finn's granite form crumbled, dissolving into dust and stolen essence that flowed into the monster.
The light in his eyes faded to a hollow void before he disintegrated entirely.
The monster shuddered, granite spikes erupting from its carapace, knitting into a new, terrifying armor.
It grew larger, its roar now deep and resonant, infused with Finn's stolen power.
Blackthorn and Lyra skidded to a halt, yards from the rift, turning at the sound. They froze, not in fear, but in soul-crushing horror.
Their friend was gone. The thing that killed him was now stronger than them all.
At the longhouse, Ash, Borin, and Sven fought on, surrounded by the gnashing horde.
By the rift, the mission had turned into a desperate, impossible stand.