A sudden pulse rippled through the air.
Aria's breath hitched. Something shifted—a wrongness in the atmosphere that sent a chill down her spine. Then, the ground trembled.
From the depths of the city, a guttural roar shattered the battlefield, drowning out the sounds of fighting. The sky darkened, shadows twisting unnaturally across the bloodstained streets. And then they saw it. A colossal figure emerged from the wreckage—a monstrous Orc Chieftain, easily five meters tall(16ft), clad in jagged obsidian armor.
Its crimson eyes gleamed with malice, a massive war axe resting on its shoulder. But what made Aria's stomach twist was the eerie red mist leaking from its body, tendrils of energy writhing unnaturally.
Victor's expression darkened. "Shit…"
The chieftain raised its axe and let out a deafening bellow. The blood rivers began to rise.
Aria's eyes widened as the corpses littering the streets twitched—then moved. The dead were rising. And before anyone could react, a blood-drenched skeleton lunged at a hunter—tearing their throat out in one savage motion.
Victor slashed through the skeleton instantly and smashed its bones into the ground under his foot, Victor's eyes widened as he saw the dead rising, "It's a necromancer high orc chieftain... shit this will be a pain in the ass."
"Everyone! I want the mages in the back, swordsman and anyone melee based on the front line, anyone with a shield in front of them! NOW." Victor shouted as he dropped his dagger and a long glaive appeared out of darkness in his hands.
Dante shouted before appearing next to Victor on the front line in front of the shields that were placed together quickly. "I can help with this."
Victor nodded and a smile appeared on his face as he watched everyone fall in formation even if some were scared. "Shit, we might actually win this." he said before bears and orcs charged while the dead slowly continued to rose near the chieftain. "Here they come! Don't break formation!"
Victor rushed in using his glaive and started to damage some of the bears, Dante rushed in with his glowing green spear as he finished the bears that were damaged following Victor's trail.
After a minute of killing all of the bears and a few of the orcs, their head reconnected to their body. "Behind you!" Victor shouted looking towards Dante before he rushed in and sliced the head off of an orc that was about to swing his weapon down upon Dante. "Yo thanks."
"No problem, just keep your senses up and watch out. I'm having a hard time to sense anything due to that bastard's mana."
"Same here. We need to kill him before we can kill the rest I guess?" Dante said looking towards the chieftain who stood between two crushed buildings as a grin appeared on the chieftain's face as a horde of undead bears charged at them. "Mages, do your thing!"
As victor shouted, a volley of sharp water spikes, and ice spikes came fourth after a few moments before crushing into the bears. After that, a wave of arrows came flying overhead into the bears from the three archers standing next to each other behind the mages. After a moment the arrows exploded into water killing the undead fire bears again. The rivers of blood around them rose again slowly before coming to a stop.
The battle dragged on, an endless cycle of carnage and resurrection. No matter how many times the undead orcs, bears, and skeletons were cut down, they simply would not stay dead.
Nearly an hour had passed, and exhaustion weighed heavily on the group. The mages lay sprawled on the ground, completely drained of mana. The archers were down to their last few arrows. Several shields lay shattered, their wielders barely holding formation.
Victor stood beside Dante, both breathing heavily as the undead rose yet again.
"This is... not ideal," Victor muttered, his grip tightening around his glaive.
Dante let out a long sigh, his eyes fixed on the battlefield. "This shit just never ends."
Before either could formulate a new plan, Stiles and SteelArm broke formation, charging straight into the enemy ranks.
"SteelArm! Do that shit!" Stiles called out.
SteelArm nodded, his body surging with raw power as he activated [Orc's Rage] and [Mountain Body]. His speed increased instantly, his monstrous frame moving with terrifying force. He smashed an undead orc into the ground with a single earth-shaking punch before slamming his fist into the ground—[Seismic Wreck] ignited beneath him. A massive shockwave erupted, disintegrating the orc completely. Not even blood remained.
Stiles followed suit, activating [Heavenly Descent]. His twin blades glowed with divine energy as he brought them down upon another orc, the radiant force incinerating its body instantly.
But it didn't stop there.
As his sword carved through the undead, a shift occurred within him—his mana condensed, growing denser with every kill. His light-red aura deepened into a dark crimson.
He vanished.
Orcs fell in rapid succession, their bodies obliterated before they could even react. Seven, ten, fifteen of them fell as he streaked across the battlefield like a crimson blur.
Within minutes, the battlefield lay silent.
All that remained were pools of blood and gaping craters where bodies once stood.
SteelArm and Stiles stood at the center of the devastation, their breathing heavy, their eyes locked on the Orc Chieftain.
Simultaneously, they smirked.
"That's what we do."
They nodded to each other before stepping forward.
"…That was a badass line, right?" Stiles whispered.
"100%." SteelArm exhaled, marching onward.
Victor and Dante stared at them, speechless. Dante let out another sigh, rubbing his temples before [Phantom Replacement] whisked him beside them.
Then, suddenly—Aria appeared as well.
"W-what the hell?!" she hissed in confusion. "Just go with it," Dante muttered. She stared at the group, then sighed in resignation. "Is there any way to just be normal for once?"
"Not at all." Dante replied without hesitation.
Victor shook his head, throwing his glaive over his shoulder.
"Oh, fuck it." With that, he joined them.
As the five strode forward, their figures illuminated by the eerie glow of blood-soaked streets and burning ruins, a hush fell over the battlefield. Even the remaining fighters, battered and exhausted, couldn't look away.
One of the swordsmen in the back, still catching his breath, pulled out his phone with a shaky hand. He tapped the record button, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Those crazy bastards… they're aura farming—and it's actually working!"
He panned the camera across the battlefield, capturing the carnage left in their wake—the craters, the pools of blood, the disintegrated remains of enemies who wouldn't be coming back this time. Then he turned the lens to the five warriors walking fearlessly toward the towering Necromancer Orc Chieftain, its glowing red eyes burning like embers in the darkness of the sky.
A shiver ran down his spine as he stopped the recording and shoved his phone back into his pocket.