(POV) Looking up at the sky, the smell of explosives, powder, and harsh air spreading everywhere.
The sky was painted black. His eyes were tired, almost blacking out, but he was still breathing. Inhale… Exhale…
The war still rumbled on.
The screams of men fighting these monsters, the shrieks and noises of the creatures, the fading sounds of them dying nearby.
But he wasn't afraid, the edge of his life was already close.
He tried hard to breathe, waiting for someone to save him, though he kept looking for hope.
He tried to move his paralyzed body, swaying it slightly. Small movements, but still limp.
"War is still waging on huh? I'm not that weak"
"but I'm aware that I was the first to go down. Betrayal is still here seeping through the gaps and holes of the fools."
He coughed blood while the pressure on his body lingered, the pain going through every part of him.
The organs were starting to fail.
As he coughed again, blood spat out of his mouth and dripped down his neck.
This was signaling the end of his life.
He slowly closed his eyes, meeting his own end, still his final words in his thoughts sounding like complaints.
"I never wanted to rise, neither to be charming nor famous. Life I could give to live on is halved, everything I've done was carved."
Blood tears dropped to his eyes.
"Those greedy people around me, Dumping their things on my shoulders though in this environment it has already been done."
"Always the strong bullying the weak. Heh that quote never gets old huh."
"But the real question I've been thinking about all the time... Who really is the enemy? The havocs or humanity?"
For a moment of silence, the noise around him slowly faded. The screams and talks disappeared.
Even his sense of smell faded. The sense of touch started fading away. His mouth began to open a little while blood gushed out.
"Ahhhh this shitty life ended too fast, it's just the beginning right? I never lose hope because I know I can always do it."
"I wanted to grow, strong enough to protect everyone aroundme. Though, those who earned it in an easy way made me carry their heavy burdens..."
"It was always their things but why did I care about it? Maybe I was the fool after all... The fool always meets his early demise."
A voice echoed through the shallows. The unknown one spoke
[The forever flair always seeps its own light through the smallest gaps and holes, finding its own potential and use. Do you have a potential?]
Traveling way back 17 years ago. The wretched quarter. The local town named Drumpetched village.
Where he lived through hardships with his mother, father, and two siblings.
Their hardworking father had promised a happy family, happier than ever before. But that promise met its own demise when a rifting havoc tore into the town.
A horde of creatures emerged from the rift, tearing through the houses.
Plants withered instantly, grass blackened like charcoal, and the leaves and wood of the trees suffered the same fate.
His father stared into the rift, blood gushing from his eyes after it splattered, as another rift opened.
He collapsed to the floor inside their home, never moving again.
This terrified the siblings, while their mother screamed with all her lungs, shocked at the sight of her husband fallen.
Panic and worry gripped him as his mother quickly grabbed both siblings, calling his name.
He remained frozen in shock, watching people outside being massacred, blood spreading across the streets.
Sounds blurred until his mother shouted again and pressed a hand to his back, pulling him back to reality.
He turned to see his mother nod, and together they ran outside, joining the crowd fleeing the destruction.
From the shadows, a terrifying creature lunged at the crowd, shrieking.
Its body was light brown, veins glowing bright as energy pulsed from chest to heart.
Long limbs stretched outward, fingers sharp and deadly, feet like a bird's talons, nails like daggers.
Its face was horrifying vertical eyes with red pupils glowed inside black sockets.
The creature pressed its thighs to the ground, coiling like a spring. Massive arms shot downward as it dove toward the people, slicing the air with deadly precision.
Until...
A yellow light beam appeared, dim at first, then blazing bright as it cut through the clouds.
From above, four figures descended, clad in heavy armor and armed to the teeth. Each one represented one of the four classification roles.
"Haha! You vile creatures! We're the ones you've been looking for! Ready yourselves."
He slammed his big shiny iron shield onto the dirt floor and raised his long heavy sword, pointing it toward the creatures.
The Vanguard, towering and massive, was the frontliner, cutting through enemy lines, absorbing damage, and holding control over the battlefield so his teammates could position themselves properly and deal damage to the enemies.
He slammed the shield down, sending a wave of energy through the enemies to grab their attention. Exhaling deeply, he let out a warcry.
"Your attention is on me, creatures!"
Suddenly, a wave of monsters charged. He gripped his shield, a wide, intimidating smile on his face. Slowly, he swayed the sword, letting its weight resonate with power.
As the creatures reached him, he slashed through them, the blade cutting sharply and dividing bodies.
After swinging, he twisted his arm, spinning the sword downward then upward, slicing side to side repeatedly.
"Still coming at me!? Do better than that!"
He inhaled deeply, holding his breath as he fought. Energy started to flow through his shield, glowing along his arm.
"Creatures of the rifts! Try harder! Come at me! Let them be slow! ... FORRTIFIED!"
He slammed the shield down again and pointed the sword to the side.
The ground shuddered from the impact, creating a massive quake in a wide V-shaped area, slowing the enemy advance.
He shouted,
"Hey! Where's the salt bae magician?"
Footsteps grudged through the dirt behind him, catching the light as it reflected off his clothes. A small brown scarf around his neck waved through the air.
Another manly voice shouted back.
"I know, Wavvy Mustache!"
The Arcanist, a master of dealing with large-scale damage, played a vital role in battles. Always supporting frontliners and backliners, they had a wide range of senses, guided by the alignment of their powers. Their abilities emerged from environmental or mental triggers.
He shifted one hand while resting the other on his waist, swaying it slowly from the ground upward, his hands slightly shaky.
A vibration began spreading through the ground.
Dirt blocks shaped into sharp blades, glowing with light, stiffened harder than rock.
"These wicked creatures… look at those poor massacred people. I feel their pain..."
He absorbed the sorrow into his core as their blood spilled onto the ground, feeling it through his skin. Then he turned back to the creatures.
He swung his arms to the sides and shouted,
"Taking the soil from the ground, shaping it into sharp, jagged blades. Pierce through them. GRAVELHEART !"
The blades shot forward, stabbing through the hearts of the creatures. Many fell to the ground, while others were blown away by the impact.
He sighed.
"Such boring monsters… though are these new ones? Not that terrifying, though they're scary for powerless people, of course..."
"Anyways… Hey, Betty! Buff Wavvy stach, he might have a hard time." Smiling, He raised his brows and giggled.
Betty chuckled. "Come on, you two! Always fighting anywhere and everywhere! Ugh,"
"when will you both become more calm and cool like Lieh? Ahwwwugh."
The Warden, an essential backliner, must always stay in a safe position.
She applies team strength buffs, restores wounds through healing, and can also silence and weaken enemies.
Her presence carries a high impact on the team.
A soft smile formed on her face as romantic thoughts briefly crossed her mind.
She hugged her staff close, the crystal glowing shaped like an oblong with sharp edges along its sides floating slightly above the shaft.
She sighed, straightened her posture, and stepped one foot forward. Releasing the staff, it hovered in the air before her.
Inside the crystal, a yellow light radiated, while at its core burned a deeper orange glow.
Murmuring in a gentle voice, she began chanting.
"Stand as the unbreakable wall. Let no force unmake you. IMPERIUM."
A radiant field of light suddenly surrounded the Vanguard. A surge of warmth and strength rushed through his body, reinforcing his muscles and hardening his resolve.
He stepped forward through the enemy lines menacingly. Claws scratched, fangs bit, blows landed against him but he stood firm, unmoving, enduring it all.
He bent his knees, stepping one leg forward, then adjusted his sword, pulling it toward him and resting it against the side of his chest.
The shield in the other hand extended forward to its full reach, and he took a deep breath.
The Vanguard stood perfectly still, blinking once as he chanted over his shield.
"I am the protector… for the motherlan—!"
When he opened his eyes, the creatures in front of him had suddenly vanished.
The others remained standing, but a second later, their heads began to slowly droop. The Vanguard scanned his surroundings, back, sides, and front.
"Ha! He is here."
He swayed his upper body and giggled, placing his shield firmly in front of him. Then he glanced at the Arcanist.
"All right, time for the quick finish. Hey! Salt Bae! Shut the rift down! Emo Boy is here!"
He waved both hands, opening and closing his palms.
"Ugh, oh, I know what I'm doing!" Salt Bae shouted back, sighing.
"Though I am the most aware, with the highest senses in this group, scanning a mile in every direction… I didn't see him coming. Lieh."
The Reaver, a high-agility, burst-damage specialist, was designed for elimination, disruption, and rapid engagement.
Excelling at single-target damage, he could also handle groups through speed, precision, positioning, and strength. He specialized in mobility, timing, and execution.
Dashing through the enemy lines, his speed left creatures lunging at empty air, their shrieks and screams failing to reach him.
The Reaver charged at the massive creature. It swiped its enormous hand, but he dodged, vanishing past its palm and reappearing behind it.
He plunged his dagger into its skin, then vaulted over its shoulder.
He vanished again through the arm, reappearing at the face and slashing wildly up, down, left, right, diagonally.
Blood splashed everywhere.
"Hm, he can see me, huh? Truly a tyrant."
He backed off, vanishing in front of the creature once more.
It screamed, the sound vibrating across the battlefield, causing shock and confusion among the others.
The tyrant, the largest of the long-limbed horrors, began regenerating.
Its mouth slowly opened, preparing to fire as it absorbed energy from the surroundings.
"Look out, everyone! It's absorbing our essence!" the Vanguard called, alerting his companions.
The Arcanist gestured with his hands, arms straightened, palms rotating horizontally as a line of magical walls erupted from the ground.
"Betty! Debuff!"
Betty swayed her staff toward the tyrant, gripping it tightly in both hands, and fired a fast beam at the enemy.
"Mind clouded, sight untrue. Let hesitation rule, VEIL OF DISCORD."
The tyrant released its absorbed essence against the barrier, but the attack failed to penetrate.
Upon impact, the ground shuddered violently. Massive vibrations erupted through the terrain soil, rocks, and debris exploded upward, then hovered midair.
Slowly, they coalesced into enormous, piercing spikes.
"All right, since the rifts are shut down, I'll finish this."
The Arcanist hovered high above the battlefield, standing on a small circle of rock. Arms and hands spun in front of his chest before he propelled himself forward with immediate pace.
"Pace through anything! GRAVELHE—!" he shouted as he blinked.
"Resonance."
A swift, whispered voice traveled silently, and the tyrant suddenly vanished from sight.
The Arcanist stared in perplexity.
"It disappeared? No… Lieh…"
He made an annoyed face.
"Hey! Stealing my prey, you emo boy! Where is it?!"
He threw a tantrum, stomping his feet and waving both arms in the air.
The Reaver tilted his head down from the sky.
"Heh, look below, dummass. Can't you see it?"
He pointed toward the ground while cupping his other hand by his mouth, yelling loudly.
The Arcanist tilted his head, confused.
"??? Where?"
Looking down at his feet, he concentrated harder. Slowly, he saw it.
The tyrant had been chopped and sliced into pieces, blending with the dirt and soil, unnoticed at first.
He opened his mouth in disbelief, still annoyed.
"AH! It's crushed and sliced into pieces like seasoning!" He sighed.
"I'll let it slide!, Let's go help the town."
Gesturing with his palm, he snapped his fingers.
Soil from the ground rose in a circle, lifting the Vanguard and Warden and carrying them toward the town.
The Reaver was already there, aiding the people.
Descending from above, the Vanguard dropped from the platform and landed firmly on the ground.
Dust scattered around his boots as he straightened his posture.
For a brief moment, he stood still and looked around the damaged streets of the town. Broken stalls lay overturned.
Cracked stone covered the road. Civilians ran in fear, calling out for their loved ones.
He slowly brought his sword and shield together.
The moment the steel touched, a soft glow spread between them. Light flowed across both weapons, wrapping around their edges as they began to merge.
Their size reduced little by little, metal folding into itself, their shapes compressing until they formed a single ring resting in his palm.
He raised it slightly and looked at it.
Carved on its surface was one word.
"Poise."
The engraving was simple but clear. He slid the ring onto his finger, and the remaining glow faded.
Taking a steady breath, he stepped forward into the town, moving from person to person, lifting debris, guiding the injured, and helping restore order.
Then a sharp cry cut through the noise.
"Help! Somebody! My son is stuck under a pile of rocks!"
The Vanguard turned toward the voice immediately. Without hesitation, he ran across the broken road, boots striking against scattered stone as he followed the desperate call.
Not far away, the Warden descended carefully from her platform. She stepped onto the ground and stomped her right foot twice.
A faint pulse traveled beneath her feet.
Her staff responded at once. It began to shrink, glowing as it floated upward toward her face. The light moved slowly before merging into her left eye.
Her appearance changed. The left eye burned with a strong orange glow, while the right darkened into deep black.
Her gaze sharpened as she observed the surroundings, scanning unstable structures and injured civilians.
She blinked twice to adjust, then walked forward to assist the townspeople.
She guided people away from falling debris and checked for hidden dangers beneath the rubble.
Even without speaking to each other, both of them worked in sync, bringing calm back to a town that had just faced destruction.
Meanwhile,
The Arcanist stood above, looking down at the aftermath of the battle. Bodies were scattered across the ground, people who had been caught in the war against the creatures.
Blood flowed from their mouths and open wounds, staining the broken streets. Some were so badly injured that their faces were no longer recognizable.
Limbs lay separated from torsos. Torn flesh and exposed organs painted a cruel picture of what had just happened.
A wave of disgust mixed with sadness rose in his chest.
He continued scanning the area, helping those trapped beneath fallen rocks and collapsed houses.
With gestures of his hand, he shifted debris aside, lifting broken wood and stone to free the living from the dead weight pressing on them.
Then his eyes found the Reaver.
The Reaver was kneeling on the ground in front of three bodies. A family. Their bodies were separated, limbs scattered, their forms broken beyond repair.
For a moment, the world around them felt silent.
The Reaver lowered his head. His fist tightened before he punched the ground once, cracking the stone beneath it.
He did not shout.
He did not curse.
Hatred in his eyes toward the monsters that had done this.
Only regret.
He could not undo what had already happened. No speed, no precision, no power could reverse time.
The only word that left his mouth was quiet and heavy.
"Sorry… I was late."
The Arcanist descended and stepped beside him. He placed a hand on the Reaver's shoulder and leaned slightly closer, his expression softening after looking at the fallen family.
"Whose family?"
The Reaver slowly raised his head.
"John's family. The soldier from the Kingdom of Verlin."
"He worked hard just to return to them. He told me he was going to surprise them with gifts. His two daughters… and his wife."
The Arcanist let out a slow breath.
"Such a sad day. We were a bit late. If only that selfish chief wasn't controlling the military…"
The Reaver spoke calmly, almost too calmly.
"Should we kill that fat bastard?"
The Arcanist's eyes widened for a second before narrowing slightly. He exhaled.
"If we truly had the power of the real champions, maybe we could. You're strangely calm right now."
He paused.
"Maybe we should cope with food. Though… that's not exactly healthy."
The Reaver gave a small nod.
"Good idea. We should relax for a moment."
Even in grief, they searched for something small to hold onto, because if they did not, the weight of the battlefield would crush them just as surely as the fallen stones around them.
Night fell.
A circle of chopped wood sat on the dirt ground, surrounded by stones. Sparks flew as flint struck stone, landing across the pile and igniting the kindling at the center.
Soon, flames roared to life, casting a warm glow over the area.
Around the fire sat the four heroes who had saved the town.
Everyone removed their outerwear except the Arcanist, who was not yet present.
The Warden exhaled deeply, resting both hands on her knees, her head tilted upward toward the dark sky before dropping her gaze back to the flames.
Silence settled over the group. The Vanguard absentmindedly picked his nose, his right elbow resting on his lap and his left hand on his knee, eyes still fixed on the fire.
The Reaver lay on the ground, legs spread, elbow propped on a log, staring up at the stars. He waited for the night, for the moment to pass.
Footsteps crushed the silence, drawing closer to the group. The sound of boots against dirt grew louder until a figure stepped into the firelight.
The Arcanist.
Behind him floated a pile of animal meat, hovering in a circle of stone as it drifted through the air and lowered itself near the fire to cook.
He sat down close to the flames, stretching his legs slightly.
"Why are you guys so quiet, huh?" he asked casually.
He glanced at the meat rotating slowly above the fire.
"While the meat's cooking… Oh yeah, it's already seasoned. So tonight's food is going to be delicious."
He puffed his chest slightly.
"Shout out to me for being a great chef… tonight."
He looked around at the group.
"Anyway, nobody has a topic to bring up? Anyone?"
His eyes moved from one to another, waiting for a response.
Nothing.
No one paid attention.
His playful smile slowly faded into open disappointment.
"Ohh… okay, okay. Alright, alright…" He sighed.
Then he reached into both pockets and pulled something out. A deck of playing cards and a handful of gold coins. The coins clinked together as he dropped them onto the ground.
"Who's in?"
The three of them immediately looked at him. Without hesitation, they answered together.
"I'm in!"
A few moments later, they adjusted their seats, sitting closer to each other but still near the campfire.
The cards were placed on the ground between them, illuminated by the flickering flames.
"Alright, you guys better hide your money. I'm taking all of it,"
the Arcanist declared confidently.
"Greedy Twinkle, you look like the first one to lose, my friend,"
the Vanguard replied with a wide grin, shuffling his cards in his large hands.
"Because I'm the one who's winning tonight."
"No, Wavvystachi,"
the Warden said with a playful grin, shuffling her own deck.
"I'm taking all that beautiful sparkly gold. I'm going to buy so many essence stones!"
The Reaver quietly examined his cards, narrowing his eyes before shuffling them slowly and neatly.
"No, no,"
he said in a calm, relaxed voice.
"I'm the one Who's taking everything."
The fire crackled between them, lighting their faces with warm orange glow, grief from earlier now softened at least for the night by laughter, competition, and the small comfort of being together.
"Me first! Alright, fight me, fight me!"
The Warden slammed down a rainbow Plus 4 card and giggled.
"Mhmm, mhmm."
She looked back at her hand, clearly pleased with herself.
"Plus 4 already? Are you kidding me?"
the Arcanist shouted playfully as he picked up four cards from the pile.
"Ohhh, little Betty is asserting dominance, huh? Funny…"
the Vanguard said, placing down a blue number 4 card.
The Reaver casually swayed his hand forward and dropped a red number 4.
"Next."
"Ugh, Lieh! Why would you change it to red? I don't have red!"
she complained, exhaling sharply through her nose. She reached down and drew a card from the pile.
She paused.
"Oh! Lucky! Red… number 2." She quickly threw it down.
"Dang, my turn. Stack blue and white, both number 2."
The Arcanist placed his cards confidently.
"You're up, Wavvy,"
he said, pointing at the Vanguard.
"I know, I know. Alright, where am I? Oh right, I'm here sitting…"
He laughed and slapped his lap.
"Number 3. White."
He placed the card down with dramatic flair and leaned back.
"White 7. This is going to be easy,"
the Reaver said with a quiet chuckle, setting his card down smoothly.
The group continued playing, teasing and challenging one another. Laughter replaced the earlier silence.
For a while, the grief of the battlefield faded beneath the warmth of the fire and the simple joy of competition.
Time passed.
The meat, now fully cooked, rested on flat stone plates that floated gently around the fire before drifting toward them. The rich aroma spread through the night air.
"See? I won. Very easy. Very simple. Very basic,"
the Reaver said with a satisfied smile, pointing at them mockingly.
"Easy, easy, easy… anyway."
The other three stared at him in annoyance.
"Let's eat," he added.
He grabbed a piece of meat with his hand and took a large bite, chewing slowly before swallowing.
"This is such a banger."
"I know, right? I know everyone's taste here,"
the Arcanist replied proudly as he received nods and quiet praise from the group.
"Not bad ingredients, Twinkle. Mhmm,"
the Vanguard said between bites, making an approving noise.
"Oh, this is really good. Can I know the recipe?" the Warden asked, clearly impressed.
"It's just basic ingredients,"
the Arcanist answered with a small smile, pretending it was nothing.
After a while, their voices grew quieter. The fire burned lower. One by one, they lay down near the warmth of the fading flames.
It had been a sad and brutal day.
But at least, for tonight, they managed to cope together.