As the last of the wolf horde fell, silence briefly returned to the battlefield—tense, waiting. The clearing had been transford, scorched and cratered by spellfire. Smoking holes pocked the ground like miniature impact craters, the shattered terrain forming their own version of no man's land—created not over hours, but in seconds.
From the elevated watch platforms, students stood frozen, scanning the treeline. Their hands still buzzed with residual magic, but no one fired. The wolf lord lood in the distance—its massive silhouette moving just out of range, too far for even long-range spells to reach from their current elevation.
"Toughen up, everyone! Guess it's our turn to have so fun!"
Silas's voice rang across the clearing, loud and clear—half challenge, half thrill.
"And the rest of you—focus on buffs!"
He added, as if tossing the remark over his shoulder.
Below, his boots began to shimr. Sparks danced around his soles like fireflies drunk on mana, crackling with unstable energy.
"Ground troops! Forward!"
He shouted, grinning wildly.
A second later, the ground beneath him detonated with a sharp blast—boom!—launching him skyward like a rocket. Dirt exploded in all directions, and he beca a streak of motion, hurtling toward the wolf lord in a blur of smoke and light.
"Explosive Jets!" he roared, the propulsion spell igniting fully.
A chorus of students gasped, but so smiled despite their fear—hiding their nerves behind tight grins. They stared ahead at the massive figure erging through the trees, its towering form frad by moonlight. The wolf lord was the size of an ancient tree, its fur rippling with unnatural shadows, eyes glowing like molten coals.
Connor was the first to follow. Without hesitation, he spun on his heel. The runes across his forearms sparked violently, casting a golden-orange glow. With a single flick of his wrist, a concussive blast erupted behind him, launching him backwards through the air with a sonic thrum—another missile chasing Silas toward the beast.
The rest of the students ran, feet pounding against broken ground. They lacked the control or mastery to manipulate spells for movent yet, but they pushed forward with everything they had, driven by urgency, adrenaline, and desperation.
Above them, Cynthia stood on the central watch platform. Her gaze tracked the two flying figures below. With practiced ease, she waved her hand in the air, lines of glowing blue forming in her wake—a complex speed rune materializing in a blink.
"Let's do our best from up here!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos like a captain commanding her fleet.
One by one, other support casters followed her lead, casting similar speed runes on their classmates below. Pale-blue sigils shimred to life on runners' backs and legs, giving their strides an unnatural burst of speed. It wasn't perfect—but it was enough.
Silas was already almost there, the undead bear thundering behind him with terrifying montum. It needed no enhancents. With flesh long dead and joints reinforced with necromantic magic, it moved like a freight train, tearing through the battlefield with inhuman speed.
Finally, Silas reached the wolf lord. Up close, the beast was far more imposing than it had ever looked from a distance—or from behind a controller. Its muscles rippled beneath matted fur, its fangs gleaming like ivory spears. It exhaled steam through flared nostrils as it stepped forward, radiating primal fury.
Silas let out a low whistle.
"You're quite a huge boy, huh?"
He twisted midair, rotating his entire body with gymnast-like control. His leg swung upward with explosive force, his jets firing at the sa ti, amplifying the montum behind his kick.
CRACK!
His boot connected squarely with the wolf lord's face. A sharp shockwave rippled through the trees, and the massive creature staggered back, earth trembling beneath its paws. A visible scorch mark was now burned into the beast's snout—a blackened print of Silas's boot.
"Bullseye!"
He cackled.
The wolf lord snarled. Its eyes erupted with fla-like fury as it let out a deafening roar, then lunged. It slashed at Silas with claws longer than broadswords, each swipe a blur of muscle and death. But Silas darted and weaved with unnatural agility, his jets flaring in staccato bursts as he danced across the air, avoiding every deadly arc.
Then—Connor arrived.
With the beast distracted by Silas's taunts and rapid movent, Connor closed the gap. His arms crackled, runes now burning so brightly they cast deep shadows under his eyes. He was inches away from the wolf lord's chest.
"Shatter..."
The word left his lips like a sentence.
His runes surged with kinetic energy, the force behind them twisting the air with a low, thunderous hum. Connor's fist pulled back—his grin now a savage, wild thing.
"Fist!"
And he struck.
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