Roy gritted his teeth as his sword locked against the claws of the rank 2 Lynx. The beast was a blur of savage grace, its fur bristling with the remnants of the Blazebane Howler's empowerment. Every clash sent sparks flying into the darkened battlefield, the air still thick with the scent of scorched earth and blood.
The Lynx snarled, twisting its powerful body and lashing out with its hind legs, trying to catch Roy off guard. He pivoted, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the force sent him skidding backward, his boots carving trenches into the ground. The creature lunged again, its fangs bared, but Roy met it with a swift upward slash, forcing it back. He exhaled sharply, sweat trickling down his temple.
The battle wasn't over yet.
Then, a thunderous explosion shattered the air. A shockwave of raw essence rippled through the battlefield, momentarily paralyzing everything. Roy felt it in his bones, a crushing weight pressing against his very core.
The Blazebane Howler had fallen.
The Lynx before him froze, its golden eyes dilating in sudden awareness. It staggered back, as if some invisible tether had been severed, and within seconds, all the remaining Lynx began to retreat.
Roy straightened, still gripping his sword tightly as he watched the creatures turn tail and flee toward the dungeon.
The battle was over.
A short breath of silence followed before Corbin's voice broke through the stillness.
"Finally… the battle is over," he murmured, a tired yet triumphant smile gracing his lips.
Denwen, Jay, Mellissa, and Nicole exchanged glances. Part of them wanted to pursue, to ensure none of the beasts remained, but Corbin shook his head.
"Let them go," he advised. "Focus on retrieving the cores of the fallen. You all deserve it."
Denwen nodded, and without hesitation, they moved across the battlefield. The ground was littered with the corpses of fallen monsters, their forms twisted and broken. The air carried the weight of both victory and loss, the echoes of battle still humming in their ears.
From the distance, the low hum of hovercars broke through the night as medical teams finally arrived. Sleek white vehicles hovered just above the ravaged ground, deploying squads of healers and automated drones. Some moved swiftly to aid the wounded villagers, while others began the grim task of recovering the dead.
Further back, the glint of camera lenses caught the dim light. Media personnel had arrived, eager to capture the aftermath. They interviewed villagers, recording their shaken voices as they recounted the horrors of the attack and the heroism of the defenders.
As the magical dome faded, the sky regained its clarity. The once chaotic battlefield was now bathed in the soft glow of the moon, revealing the full scope of the destruction.
Then, with a heavy thud, Garrick landed.
A crater formed beneath his feet, and in his hands, he carried the massive, lifeless body of the Blazebane Howler. Blood dripped from his gloves as he looked down at his fallen foe. His expression was unreadable, his battle-worn armor still radiating the heat of his last attack.
With a slow, deliberate motion, he thrust his hand into the Howler's chest. The sound of tearing flesh filled the quiet air before he withdrew his hand, revealing a pulsing, radiant core. It gleamed with an eerie blue light, the essence within still trembling from the recent fight.
He studied it for a moment before glancing toward the dungeon gate. The once menacing entrance, pulsating with ominous purple energy, had dimmed. The light within faded from deep violet to a more stable, controlled blue.
The disaster had ended.
"And from disaster," Garrick murmured, closing his fist around the core, "comes blessings."
He turned, tossing the Howler's corpse toward the village elders. "Use it well. It belongs to you."
The village chief, an elderly man with deep lines of worry etched into his face, nodded solemnly. This corpse was worth a fortune—a single Blazebane could provide years' worth of materials, food, and essence-infused resources.
For the village, this wasn't just survival. It was a chance to thrive.
Denwen, meanwhile, was beaming. He had gathered over thirty rank 1 cores, each one a small but significant step in his growth. But the real treasures were the two rank 2 cores in his hand. He turned to Roy, extending them without hesitation.
"I can't use these, but you can," he said simply.
Roy eyed them before shaking his head. "Then take mine in exchange."
Denwen's eyes widened as Roy handed over his own collected rank 1 cores. The total in Denwen's possession now numbered nearly fifty—a fortune for someone at his level.
The others shared their own victories. Mellissa had gathered a respectable number of cores herself, and Nicole's swift work had saved countless lives. Jay, though battered, stood proudly with his own share of spoils.
Then, Garrick and Corbin approached.
"I saw what you did out there," Corbin said, his voice laced with approval. "You impressed me. Perhaps after your three year study you can consider joining us, we'd be happy to have useful talents like you lot"
Garrick gave them all a long, considering look. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed a small object toward them—a spatial ring.
"Store your spoils in this," he said. "Consider it a reward for your efforts."
Denwen caught it, marveling at the artifact. Spatial rings weren't cheap, but Garrick had handed it over like it was nothing.
The gang exchanged smiles, but the weight of the battle still lingered.
Denwen's gaze drifted across the field. He saw Nicole kneeling beside a crying boy, gently whispering reassurances. He saw the village's survivors, many with vacant eyes, mourning the homes and loved ones they had lost.
Kara stepped beside him.
"Even though we won," she said softly, "and the village is in a better place now… the battle left scars that can't be healed."
Denwen clenched his fists.
"If only we were stronger," he muttered. "If we arrived earlier, none of this would've happened."
A sharp pang settled in his chest. Victory tasted hollow when it came at such a cost.
Nearby, Logan activated a series of small, spider-like drones, their mechanical legs clicking against the dirt as they assisted in carrying the wounded. His face was dark with frustration.
"I hate this feeling," he admitted. "I hate being useless."
Jay placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, nodding in silent understanding.
Mellissa, meanwhile, remained quiet, her expression shadowed. Her hands trembled slightly before she clenched them into fists. She had performed well today—better than most—but it wasn't enough. Not yet.
This battle had made one thing clear.
They all had to get stronger.
As the village worked to rebuild, as the media captured the remnants of destruction, as the night air settled once more…
Each of them made the same silent vow.
This would never happen again.