The battlefield was chaos incarnate.
The roars of battle—some of fury, others of agony—drowned out all else.
Talon surged forward, his wings carving through arrows with relentless precision.
Beside him, Morales and Kevin fought with equal ferocity, their movements swift and merciless.
On the other side, Magnum, Lily, and the Dwarf King struggled to hold the line.
The enemy’s assault was unrelenting, crashing against them like an unstoppable tide.
Sweat dripped from their brows, their breaths ragged, but they refused to yield.
And then—
A flash.
Not just any light.
A brilliant golden radiance erupted from the heart of the battlefield, as if the sun itself had descended upon the earth.
It consumed the sky, casting long shadows and turning the world into a landscape of blinding gold.
Talon''s steps faltered, his eyes widening in shock.
The light was overwhelming, suffocating in its intensity.
It pulsed with something ancient, something divine.
A chill crawled down his spine.
That light—
It could only mean one thing.
His breath caught in his throat. He knew. Deep in his bones, he knew.
"The hero…" The words left his lips in a whisper, barely audible over the din of battle.
But the weight of them was crushing.
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.
His instincts screamed at him. Run. Get away. Now.
He didn''t hesitate.
"Fall back! Now!" Talon roared, his voice cutting through the battlefield like a whip.
Morales and Kevin turned to him, confusion flashing in their eyes.
But then, they saw it too.
The golden radiance was not just light—it was power.
A force beyond comprehension.
They didn’t question him.
Without hesitation, they signaled the retreat.
The battlefield shifted in an instant.
Warriors who had moments ago fought with reckless abandon suddenly broke away, their movements frantic, their gazes flickering back toward the golden eruption with fear.
Lily, panting from exhaustion, furrowed her brows as she watched the enemy retreat. Confusion warred with the relief in her chest.
"What’s going on?" she asked, gripping her weapon tighter.
Magnum wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Something happened inside the arena…" His voice was low, uncertain.
The Dwarf King gritted his teeth, adjusting his posture.
His heart pounded against his ribs.
"Then we need to move. Now."
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
They ran.
Steven, still wrapped in the swirling embrace of his water spirit, turned his gaze toward the arena. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
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Something was coming.
Something that pulled them all toward it like an inescapable force.
---
On the far edge of the battlefield, Kelly and Borris were locked in a deadly dance with Sirius, Hemel, and Giren.
Borris fought with brutal efficiency, each swing of his claws aiming to cleave through his enemy, but Giren was faster, his axe a blur of silver as he countered every strike.
Victory was within reach.
Despite the numbers stacked against them, Sirius, Hemel, and Giren held their ground.
The beastmen’s forces pushed harder, but they weren’t breaking.
Then—
The light.
It surged from the arena, flooding the battlefield with its golden brilliance.
Kelly and Borris froze mid-strike, their bodies tensing, instincts flaring with a warning they didn’t understand.
The battlefield seemed to hold its breath.
Sirius felt it first.
A force beyond reason, beyond power, beyond anything he had ever encountered.
His heart skipped a beat.
Hemel clutched his staff tighter, his fingers trembling.
His voice came out uneven, filled with something he had never known before—fear.
"I don’t know what that is… but it’s far beyond anything we’ve ever faced."
Giren’s victorious smirk faltered.
His hands trembled around his weapon.
Borris and Kelly met each other’s gaze.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t need to.
Their decision was instant.
They turned and ran.
Their troops, hesitant and confused, hesitated for only a moment before following.
Fear drove them, an instinct buried deep in their bones screaming at them to flee.
Giren watched them go, his grip tightening around his axe.
"What the hell?" he muttered, breathless.
Sirius exhaled sharply.
His ears twitched, picking up the shift in the battlefield.
He saw it now—movement everywhere, warriors abandoning their fights, drawn toward the same overwhelming presence.
His jaw clenched.
"We will follow them."
No hesitation.
No arguments.
They moved.
And they weren’t the only ones.
The townspeople saw it too.
Fear.
Curiosity.
Desperation.
It gripped them all.
One by one, they began to move.
Drawn toward the arena.
Toward the unknown.
Toward something that should not have been possible.
And as the battlefield slowly shifted its focus, the war itself momentarily forgotten, a single, unshakable truth settled over them all.
Something had awakened.
----
The arena was unrecognizable.
What had once been a battleground—a place of clashing steel and roaring warriors—had become a grotesque slaughterhouse.
The golden glow of Asael’s floating weapons carved through the air like vengeful spirits, each blade moving with an unseen will, cutting down any beastman that dared to stand in their path.
They struck with deadly precision, piercing flesh, shattering bones, and severing limbs in fluid, merciless motions.
The scent of blood hung thick in the air, warm and metallic, mingling with the acrid stench of burning fur and smoldering flesh.
Smoke curled upward from charred bodies, creating a haze that blurred the boundary between the living and the dead.
Screams of agony rang out, sharp and raw, only to be silenced just as quickly.
The wet, visceral sound of flesh being torn apart followed—ripping, splattering, echoing in the chaos.
The battlefield had been loud before.
Warriors shouted commands, weapons clashed, and battle cries filled the sky.
But now—
Now, there was only the sound of death.
Korran, his massive form fully shifted into that of a towering tiger, roared with fury and desperation.
His deep, guttural cry carried through the battlefield, but it no longer held the strength of a commander rallying his troops.
It was the cry of a man watching his people perish before his eyes.
His warriors—his brothers—were being butchered like cattle.
A golden spear streaked toward him, its tip glowing with divine fury, aimed straight for his heart.
With a snarl, he twisted, his claws swiping through the air, deflecting the weapon at the last moment.
The spear spun wildly before embedding itself into the blood-drenched earth.
But there was no time to breathe.
A golden lance followed, its point gleaming as it streaked toward his throat.
He threw himself to the side, his powerful legs propelling him out of its path.
He landed with a thud, claws sinking into the soft, blood-soaked dirt, muscles tensed, ready to move again.
But Asael was already there.
He moved like a phantom, silent and inescapable.
His golden eyes locked onto Korran’s with a cold intensity, devoid of warmth, devoid of mercy.
A brutal kick slammed into Korran’s ribs, a force like a warhammer shattering through bone.
The pain was instant and blinding, stealing the air from his lungs.
He was sent skidding across the ground, his massive form carving deep furrows into the battlefield.
Dirt and blood caked his fur, but he pushed himself up, his breathing ragged, his vision swimming.
The warriors who had rushed to his aid—brave, loyal warriors—were not as fortunate.
Asael’s floating arsenal showed them no mercy.
Swords carved through torsos, splitting them open in fountains of crimson.
Axes cleaved into shoulders, cutting through flesh and bone in a single swing.
Spears impaled chests, the tips bursting through backs slick with blood.
Flesh ripped apart.
Limbs were severed, fingers still twitching in the dirt.
Heads tumbled, their eyes frozen in expressions of shock, mouths parted in screams that never finished.
Their deaths were swift.
Their ends were merciless.
Korran’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched his people fall.
One by one. Slaughtered like nothing more than vermin.
Rage, raw and uncontrollable, surged through him.
A roar of grief tore from his throat as he lunged, his fangs bared, his claws poised to rip Asael apart.
But Asael caught him mid-air.
The impact should have sent the smaller man stumbling.
Instead, Asael held Korran in place with an unnatural grip, his fingers digging into fur and flesh with unshakable strength.
Korran thrashed, his massive form writhing, muscles straining against the divine strength that held him in place.
His jaws snapped forward, fangs sinking into Asael’s shoulder, his claws tearing into the flesh of his arms.
Blood poured, hot and thick, painting both their bodies in crimson.
But Asael did not flinch.
His wounds should have crippled him.
His flesh should have torn beyond repair.
Yet, before Korran’s very eyes, the divine energy wove itself through Asael’s body, sealing the wounds as if they had never existed.
The pain that should have brought him to his knees—
It did not even register.
And in that moment, Korran understood.
There was no humanity left in Asael’s gaze.
No hesitation.
No remorse.
Only raw, unrelenting vengeance.
A cold hand clamped down on Korran’s jaw, fingers tightening like a steel vice.
Panic flashed through him as he tried to yank himself free, but Asael’s grip only tightened.
Then—
A sickening crunch.
White-hot pain exploded through Korran’s skull as his lower jaw was ripped apart with brutal force.
A scream of pure agony ripped from his throat, but it was garbled, choked by the blood pouring from his ruined mouth.
His tongue lolled uselessly, his breath coming in desperate, ragged gasps.
His massive body convulsed, his golden eyes wide with horror.
The pain was unbearable.
His mind swam in it, drowning in the white-hot agony that pulsed through his nerves.
But Asael wasn’t done.
Above them, swords hovered in the air, their golden edges gleaming in the dim light.
Then, they struck.
A storm of death rained down.
Blades pierced his flesh.
Arrows buried themselves deep into his muscles.
Spears skewered his body, ripping through his chest and limbs.
Each wound should have been fatal.
But Korran was strong.
He had survived wounds that would have killed lesser men.
He had risen from the brink of death before.
He tried to rise again.
Tried to fight.
Tried to stand.
But Asael would not allow it.
With a single, merciless motion, he drove his sword straight into Korran’s heart.
Korran’s massive form shuddered.
A strangled sound—a mix of a growl and a desperate gasp—escaped his broken throat.
But Asael did not stop.
With deliberate, ruthless slowness, he reached out—
And crushed Korran’s heart in his hand.
A final, gurgling breath.
Then—
Silence.
Korran’s lifeless body collapsed onto the blood-soaked earth.
The once-great general of the Demon King’s army lay motionless, his blood pooling beneath him, mixing with the countless others who had fallen.
The beastmen who had surged forward moments before now stood frozen.
Their weapons trembled in their hands.
Their bodies shook with horror.
Before them, the lifeless remains of their comrades lay in pieces.
And at the center of it all—
Asael.
His body was bathed in golden light, a figure of divine judgment. But his hands—
His hands dripped with blood.
His golden eyes, burning with an unholy fury, turned toward the remaining warriors.
There was nothing righteous in his gaze.
Nothing merciful.
Nothing human.
Just a harbinger of death.
And in that moment—
The beastmen knew.
They were already dead.