Everything seemed to freeze. A heavy, unnatural silence came before the horror. The corpses of the Vorms scattered across the ruined ground began to stir, as if summoned by an unseen will. Kael was the first to notice it. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the torn flesh moving, pulling itself together, fusing into a pulsing mass of slime and twisted limbs. He instinctively took a step back, his eyes fixed on the grotesque mound that grew larger by the second. Faint groans echoed in the air, bones snapped, and muscle twisted in a grotesque dance of rebirth. It was no longer a swarm. It was something new. Something far worse.
A soldier, trembling from head to toe, muttered, "I've been a soldier my whole life… seen mutants, aberrations… but this? I've never seen anything like this." He backed away slowly, his weapon shaking in his grip. The final monster rose, towering over them, covered in dozens of writhing tentacles. Its many glowing amber eyes pulsed with a cold, calculating intelligence. It had no face, no voice, but the stench of death it exhaled was enough to freeze the blood of any who dared face it.
Declan was already in motion. His speed blurred the air itself, each stride leaving streaks of dust in his wake. With a perfect leap, he struck the creature, his blade cleaving toward one of the tentacles. The impact was clean—but useless. His sword bounced off like it had struck tempered steel. Declan took two steps back, eyes narrowing. This wasn't just another beast. It was an abomination, forged from death and rage.
Korven didn't hesitate. "All units! Surround it! Strike together!" The soldiers, bolstered by his voice, charged in unison. Nyra and Syla, the twin blades, darted to the flanks, their fan-blades slashing with deadly precision. Kael led the central push, his lance tight in his hands, his heart pounding like war drums. Metal clanged, voices shouted, the clash of war resumed—but every strike met resistance. Their weapons glanced off the creature like raindrops on stone.
Kael jumped forward and drove his lance into what should've been the creature's torso. The resistance was immediate. The flesh was unnaturally dense, cold, elastic. Not even his energy could pierce it. He yanked his weapon free and struck again. And again. And again. Until his arms burned with exhaustion. But the beast did not bleed. It didn't even react.
Declan managed to sever one of the beast's tentacles after a series of acrobatic, relentless slashes. Landing with perfect balance, he allowed a faint smirk to cross his lips—until the tentacle regenerated in a grotesque squelch of flesh and bone. Three seconds. That was all it took. His smile vanished. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Naelys leapt into the fray, slicing through two more tentacles with her crystalline blade. She pulled back, watching the wounds close in seconds. Her voice cracked as she swore, "Shit… this thing heals like nothing I've ever seen. It's like it can't die!"
Then it struck. One tentacle lashed toward Eron, a powerful fighter clad in heavy armor. He tried to dodge, but was hurled into a crumbling wall, his armor snapping on impact. He slid to the ground, unconscious. Mira dashed toward him, only to be swatted away mid-run. She hit the ground hard, coughing blood. Two other soldiers, Jaren and Vickel, rushed to protect her, but were caught in a blink—pulled apart by snapping jaws. Their screams ended abruptly.
Kael screamed. Rage surged through his veins as he charged, swinging, stabbing, roaring. "Why won't you DIE?!" he bellowed, striking over and over with reckless abandon. But the creature didn't flinch. It was pain-resistant. Or worse… beyond pain.
The ancient castle shook under the force of the chaos. Dust fell in thick clouds. Selia, bleeding from the leg, crawled for cover. Nyra and Syla found her, lifting her together as blood soaked the stone beneath them. Their movements were grim, their faces unreadable, but their eyes shimmered with anguish.
Then a low hum rumbled across the sky. All heads turned upward. Through the thick fog, beams of light pierced the gray heavens. Vehicles. Enormous, armored, descending slowly. Their silhouettes grew larger by the second—ghosts breaking through the mist like salvation come too late.
Korven, his face bloodied and eyes wide, rose and pointed skyward. "Reinforcements… finally." But hope could not erase the dread that clung to his chest. Not when the enemy still stood, unshaken.
Kael stumbled back toward Declan, his chest heaving. "We can't keep this up. We need a plan… or this thing will wipe us out."
Declan clenched his jaw, blade ready. "Then we buy time. We hold it here… until they arrive. Or we fall."
And in the dark skies, engines howled—carrying either their salvation… or the final act of their story.