"Argh... shit."
A man stood at the edge of the settlent wall, the dry wind pulling at his coat. His boots crunched against the cracked stone as he stared out.
The Witherfangs moved like a tide of bone and rot—limbs too long, eyes like hollow lanterns. The ground seed to rot beneath them as they ca.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t blink.
"Sir!"
A voice from behind. A soldier—her voice tight, shaking.
"What are we going to do?"
He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on the horde, mind racing.
’Why here? Why now? I should’ve been stationed anywhere else. I was only sent to Ebonreach to keep order, not to die. The last wave was smaller, tier 1s, 2s... and we barely made it through. I’m stage 3, not a damn god. There’s no way I can fight this.’
"Sergeant Conan!"
He turned at last. The settlent behind them was already unraveling. Families scattered. Guards shouted, so not even holding weapons right.
Panic stank in the air.
He faced her.
"Get everyone to the bunker. Lock it when it’s full."
She nodded, turning to run. He grabbed her arm.
"And check again—are you sure no one’s hiding a teor?"
"We asked everyone we could."
She paused, breathing hard.
"There are none."
Conan let go, shaking his head.
"Keep looking,"
he growled.
"Those things don’t just gather for fun. Sothing’s drawing them here. And if it’s what I think it is, we’re all already dead."
Conan turned back to the field.
The wave hadn’t stopped. If anything, it grew thicker—more legs, more fangs, more rot. The land itself seed to wither as the creatures passed over it, like death spreading rootless through the dirt.
His fingers twitched. Every instinct scread at him to run.
’I helped last ti. I pulled people out, I killed a few of them. That was enough. I did my part.ʼ
A voice—small, trembling—rose behind him.
"Mom... am I going to die?"
He turned his head slightly.
A boy, no older than six, clung to his mother’s waist. She held him close, tears streaking down her dusty cheeks.
"No, sweetie,"
she whispered.
"The military’s here. They’ll protect us."
Conan’s hands curled into fists.
’No, we won’t. I’m scared out of my mind.’
A shadow passed overhead.
He looked up. Sothing moved through the sky, blocking the sun in bursts. A ship—sleek, fast, not from any unit he recognized.
’Reinforcents?’
Sothing dropped from the ship. Not a pod. Not a bomb.
A person.
The figure hit the ground in the middle of the horde—and the field erupted.
Witherfangs were thrown into the air, limbs flailing, bodies torn apart in a burst of force. The blast left a crater of cracked earth and silence.
Then, to the side, another explosion tore through a cluster of creatures. Flesh and bone scattered. Another blast ca. Then another.
Like thunder walking on legs.
Conan’s eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat.
The tide was breaking.
He didn’t know who had fallen from the sky or how, but it didn’t matter.
He exhaled.
’I don’t care what that is. Just keep hitting them. Just keep us alive.’
————
Max moved like a hamr let loose.
His suit glowed—cracks of light ran beneath the surface, pulsing with each step. The hum deepened as power surged into his arms.
He slamd his fist into the first Witherfang. It didn’t crumple—it detonated. Skin tore open, bones cracked, rot and gore sprayed the dirt.
Inside his helt, the AI spoke in a calm, surgical tone.
"[Three incoming from your left. One preparing to leap. Counter in 0.7 seconds.]"
Max shifted. Another punch. The creature’s head snapped sideways as it flew, rolling limply across the ground.
"[Next target: high-angle bite approaching your right shoulder.]"
A Witherfang lunged, jaws wide. It clamped onto his armored arm—teeth grinding uselessly against tal.
Max growled, lifted it into the air, then slamd it into the dirt. The sound cracked like thunder.
"Suit’s boosting more than I expected. Feels good."
The ground kept shaking. Dozens more ca. They poured over the hills like a black tide, howling, clawing, biting. Max kept moving.
Left hook—blast.
Backhand—another corpse.
Elbow drive—one torn in half.
But sothing shifted. The punches still landed, but the impact softened. The blasts lost their sharpness. The suit dimd—glow fading, hum thinning.
He punched another. It dropped, then twitched. Got up.
Another strike. Sa result.
"[Warning: kinetic storage depleted. Impact reduction at 73%. Suggest switching to reserve mode.]"
Max clenched his jaw.
"Already running dry?"
He took a breath. Steeled himself.
’Guess it’s ti to test the rest.’
The creatures didn’t wait. Five pounced—gnashing, clawing, dragging him to the dirt. Their jaws tore at his suit, their limbs scraping at the plating.
He didn’t scream. The suit absorbed the pressure, dulling the sensation like a thick fog over pain.
"[Pain dampeners holding at optimal capacity. Neural strain minimal.]"
’Perfect.’
He lay still for a breath, then smiled behind the helt.
"Alright then. Let’s see how much I can really take."
Suddenly, A voice cracked through the sky like thunder.
"Make way for the son of fla!"
Max’s eyes snapped open inside the heap of twisted limbs and rotting breath.
"Damn it, Kael..."
Sothing streaked from above—burning, fast. Then ca impact. The pile erupted in fla and force, Witherfangs flying in all directions, their bodies torn apart by the blast.
Kael stood at the center, surrounded by a ring of ash and smoke.
Max climbed to his feet. His suit flickered—cracks glowing, each breath pushing out a low hum.
He looked at Kael, eyes narrowed.
"What is wrong with you?"
Kael grinned, fire dancing around his shoulders.
"You looked like you needed help. Or so the bot claid."
Max groaned.
"Yeah, I’m rebooting that AI as soon as this is over."
They turned toward the field.
The tide had shifted. The Witherfangs no longer charged. The ones in front backed away, growling low, their eyes flicking between Kael and Max then race towards the settlent. Those farther off didn’t dare cross the scorched line in the earth.
Kael’s grin stretched wider.
Then fire rose—tall and sudden—between the creatures and the settlent. A wall of fla roared into being, licking the air, blocking the path.
The beasts halted. Snarls turned to whimpers. Then they turned.
Footsteps echoed. Kael walked toward them slowly, flas curling from his hands.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
he asked, voice low.
"I’m just getting started."
The creatures backed away. None moved forward.
Kael frowned.
"No fun at all."
With a small flick of his wrist, the fire wall moved. It swept forward like a curtain of judgnt.
Any Witherfang that touched it didn’t scream—they just turned to ash mid-snarl.
Max watched as smoke thickened across the field.
"Where’s the Tier 3?" he muttered.
The answer ca in silence.
The others stepped back. A new figure pushed through the rear. Taller. Broader. Its claws scraped against stone as it walked. Its fangs dragged across the dirt.
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"Found it."
Max’s voice cut through the smoke.
"I’ll handle the small ones. You take care of that big one."
Kael glanced at him, eyebrow raised.
"What small ones?"
Suddenly, the ground beneath the Witherfangs cracked. Flas erupted in wide, roaring bursts, swallowing every Tier 2 creature in sight. Bodies burned, flesh lting into ash.
Max growled low.
"Never mind."
The Tier 3 snarled, eyes blazing with fury, and charged at Kael.
Kael moved like lightning, his fist smashing into the beast’s snout. It flew backward, crashing hard against the earth.
Kael landed atop the creature’s chest, fingers curling to strike again.
Max yelled out,
"Co on, Kael! Now’s not the ti for showboating. Finish it—then we grab the teor!"
Kael smirked through the haze of battle.
"True. It’s too weak to waste energy on flashy moves."
He thrust his hand forward, and a blast of fire shot from his palm—hitting the creature’s face.
The beast’s head exploded, a shower of blood and bone falling to the scorched ground.
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
Then, from the sky, a ship descended, cutting through the smoke.
Ash stepped out, his eyes scanning the battlefield, sharp and steady.
Kael looked toward the settlent.
"Well, let’s move. Ti to get that teor."
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