Thorn, Grok, and the front line charged.
Blades gleamed in the fading light as they tore into the scattered troops.
The clash was sudden, brutal, and decisive. Ember's storm blinded the archers, Serathis crushed the vanguard, and Karl's melee fighters cut through the center like a blade through silk.
What had begun as chaos became controlled destruction.
Even the trained warriors of Veythar's army found themselves outmaneuvered. Fear and confusion spread faster than any command could recover them.
From above, ranged units picked off those trying to escape, their arrows striking clean and fast.
The Karl's army moved like one heartbeat—disciplined, relentless and unstoppable.
Then Karl gave the final signal.
"Ember—Wrath of the Storm!"
A blinding surge of storm ripped open the battlefield. Ember shrieked, wings blazing with wind blades and her storm descended, scattering entire ranks like fallen leaves.
The air itself seemed to change
Karl's soldiers straightened, their movements sharper, faster, infused with newfound strength. The enemy, meanwhile, felt their limbs heavy, their courage dissolving under invisible pressure.
The result was absolute.
Harrek and Borgas still stood, locked in desperate struggle against Serathis and Thorn—but only barely. Their weapons clashed once, twice… then shattered under the combined force.
Around them, Dreal led the second line in tight formation, cutting down any who still stood. And Korath, wild and fearless, charged through the chaos like a bull unleashed, breaking the enemy's final defense.
The last of Veythar's soldiers began to scatter—and victory was within sight, and then—karl notice something.
A faint flicker—no, a pulse—of vitality on the edge of his senses. Weak at first… then stronger. It surged again, growing fast, steadying into something massive.
Karl's gaze turned toward the west.
From the center of the battlefield, the portal node flared to life. A silver radiance burst from its core, washing the broken camp in light.
Serathis and Thorn, standing over the fallen bodies of Harrek and Borgas, turned sharply toward the glow.
Their weapons lowered slightly—but not in relief.
Through the brilliance, a figure began to emerge— His eyes burned with unbridled fury, madness radiating from him like heat from a forge.
And then, the light rippled again. Beside him, another figure materialized, massive and imposing, radiating a presence that seemed to bend the very air around him.
Karl's pulse flared, his mind raced with possibility. The vitality radiating from the man was immense —comparable to the Serpentile Beast they had once faced, yet far more focused, far more refined.
Even Ember paused mid-flight, her wings beating slower as the shockwave rolled through the clearing.
Veythar's eyes blazed with fury, his jaw tight as he shouted, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Korran— crush them."
The giant stepped forward.
Korran Rax, once a knight, now a mercenary bound to Veythar. A Silver I warrior whose name alone carried terror across battlefields.
Karl's heart pounded in his chest.
He could feel it—every surge of energy flowing through Korran's veins, every spark of condensed vitality concentrated in that monstrous body.
He focused, estimating the warrior's strength:
Korran Rax — Silver I (3/10)
Strength: 52
Agility: 38
Vitality: 58
Intelligence: 40
The air grew heavier with every breath.
This was no ordinary foe—this was a beast wearing human skin.
His twin-headed war hammer hummed with blue mana, arcs of lightning crawling over its surface. Each movement carried deliberate, unstoppable weight.
When he struck the ground, the forest itself shook apart—stones and trees collapsing like straw.
Karl's mind snapped into motion.
He didn't hesitate.
"Ember, Thorn—take Veythar!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the thunder. "Serathis, all Bronze II—on Korran! Dreal, hold the line and keep the rest contained!"
Orders spread like wildfire. Soldiers shifted, regrouped, and moved with disciplined precision, each step measured yet fluid.
Below, Serathis led the Bronze II vanguard at Korran. His greatsword gleamed in the stormlight, each swing slicing air and earth with lethal accuracy.
Korran's twin-headed war hammer descended like a falling mountain.
The clash of hammer and grestsword echoed like thunder. Shockwaves rippled outward, shaking the ground beneath the Serathis's feet making him stagger back.
But Serathis quickly recover, planting his feet firmly against the shaking ground. Unyielding Presence radiated outward, steadying his squad as they chipped away at Korran's defenses.
Each greatsword strike countered the hammer's destructive arcs.
The Bronze II warriors fought with everything they had, but Korran's raw strength was immense—they could only hold him at bay, sustaining blows that carved bruises into armor and flesh alike.
Serathis adjusted his stance, eyes scanning the battlefield. "Hold the line! Focus on disrupting his swings. Don't let him regain rhythm!"