A roar echoed in the distance. A shout. Voices.
Khaos barely understood the words, but they were human.
Then a shout human voices. Steel clanged. Magic cracked through the air like a living pulse, resonating with the broken weave of the barrier.
The Xylen on top of Khaos snarled, distracted by the flare of light erupting behind the trees. A bolt of fire seared past its head.
Khaos took the moment to act.
With a desperate cry, he twisted his body pain exploding through his ribs and drove a jagged stone into the beast's eye. The Xylen shrieked, rearing up in agony.
Then came the knights.
Boots thundered through the brush. A bolt of lightning split the air as a sword, wrapped in glowing runes, slammed into the beast's flank. The Xylen roared in fury, staggered, but didn't fall.
Rane a grizzled knight with a scar running down his brow a (knight who was very close with sir Rothan) charged in beside Khaos. His armor was scorched, his blade slick with blood.
Boots thundered through the brush. A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the chaos in stark, frozen detail. The Xylen twisted toward the sound just as a sword, etched with glowing runes, slammed into its side. The beast shrieked, stumbling from the force, muscles spasming beneath its scorched hide.
Rane crashed through the smoke and fire like a war god made flesh. A grizzled knight, face half-hidden beneath a battered helm, the scar running from brow to cheek bone glistened with rain and blood. His armor was cracked and blackened, dented from the blows of too many battles. The sword in his hand pulsed with raw enchantment old, hungry, and deadly.
The Xylen snapped its jaws and lunged, but Rane was faster.
He didn't shout. Didn't roar. Just moved like someone who'd spent his entire life ending monsters. His blade met the creature's claw mid-swing, severing it at the joint in one brutal stroke. Black blood sprayed across the trees, hissing where it touched bark. The beast screamed again, but Rane was already circling, striking low hamstringing it with a precise slash that dropped it to one knee.
The forest lit up with the pale glow of his runes as he raised the sword high. Thunder rumbled above. The Xylen tried to rise, but Rane drove the blade straight through its skull, cleaving between its horns with a sickening crunch. The creature spasmed once… then collapsed.
Dead.
Rane stood over the corpse a moment, catching his breath, the rain dripping from his helmet and sword like sweat and blood from a dying god. Then he turned.
Khaos lay still by a shattered log, gasping through clenched teeth, one arm pressed tightly to his ribs. His clothes were burned in places, blood soaking the fabric. The boy's eyes were widenot in fear, but in pain and rage and something more dangerous: focus.
Rane stepped over the carcass, the ruined leaves squelching beneath his boots. He approached without urgency, as if death itself had slowed to give him room.
He stopped in front of Khaos and extended a handscarred, gauntleted, steady.
No words passed for a moment.
Khaos gritted his teeth, clasping Rane's hand. The older knight pulled him up with a grunt, and the pain in Khaos's ribs flared like fire but he didn't let it show. Around them, the forest crackled with lingering magic and the smell of burning flesh. The fallen Xylen still twitched as rain poured down, thick and cold, soaking the blood-slick leaves.
Rane:
" The barrier's breaking. If you can still fight, grab your sword because we must move for the tower. Now."
Khaos steadied his breath and nodded, rain dripping from his blood-matted hair. Around him, the shattered clearing hissed with steam from fading magic. The air still reeked of scorched bark and burnt flesh.
The surviving knights that left the shelter gathered. Eight in total counting Khaos now, apparently. Their armor was scratched, dented, soaked through. Some limped. Others bled quietly behind clenched jaws.
Rane took the lead, his voice just above a whisper.
"Eyes sharp. The tower's northeast. We move fast, stay close. Don't waste strength unless you have to. If you fall behind, you die."
No one argued. Not even the youngest among them.
The forest was drowning in rain. Each step forward was a struggle against thick mud and tangled roots. Water ran in rivulets down their legs and into their boots. Leaves clung to their faces like wet fingers.
No one spoke—not because of discipline, but because of dread.
Khaos walked near the rear, sword gripped tightly despite the ache in his fingers. Every sound—a crack of a branch, the flap of wings, the splash of mud—made his heart pound. The trees loomed like watchers, silent and judgmental.
The deeper they went, the darker it got.
And colder.
The forest swallowed them.
Twisting roots clung to their boots like grasping fingers. The rain never let up—it slid down armor plates, dripped from eyelashes, and soaked every layer beneath. Mist coiled through the trees, curling between the trunks like ghostly breath.
Khaos stayed near the back, each step a silent plea that nothing move in the dark.
Rane led, sword drawn, gauntlet humming faintly with pulsing runes. No one spoke. They didn't need to. The silence between them said everything.
Somewhere to the left, a branch cracked.
The group halted. Blades raised. Breaths held.
Nothing.
Just the steady drumbeat of rain on leaves and the occasional rumble of distant thunder.
They pressed forward again, tighter now.
Garren was near the rear. He had a slight limp old wound, old pride but he kept pace, grumbling under his breath as he hacked away a hanging vine with a tired grunt.
He barely made it three more steps.
From above, something dropped.
Fast. Silent. Black.
A blur of limbs and teeth. A sickening crunch.
Khaos spun just in time to see Garren vanish beneath the weight of it, his sword clattering to the mud. A gurgled shout burst from his throat, but it was already too late—the Xylen's jaws crushed down, shaking him like a rag before dragging his limp form into the undergrowth.
"No!" one of the knights shouted, surging forward.
Rane grabbed him hard by the chestplate.
"Don't! It's already done!"
Khaos stared at the dark trail smeared through the wet leaves. His stomach twisted.
They waited just long enough to hear the snapping of bones somewhere deeper in the fog then moved again.
No words.
Only tighter grips. Sharper eyes.
And fewer footsteps behind them.
The rain kept falling.
But then
A shape.
Not lightning. Not a tree.
A shadow in the distance, jagged and unnatural, rising through the mist like the broken tip of a mountain.
Khaos blinked hard, wiping water from his eyes. "Is that?"
Rane followed his gaze, jaw clenched.
"The tower."
Hope. Distant and sharp.
They moved faster, though their bodies screamed. The forest began to thin, trees giving way to ancient stone ruins that jutted from the earth like bones. Cracked pillars, moss-eaten stairs, and shattered archways marked the old path to the tower's gate.
But the air changed.
The cold deepened.
It wasn't just rain now it was something else.
Heavier. Wrong.
"Stay sharp," Rane growled, drawing his sword fully.
Khaos's stomach tightened. The tower loomed larger now, its silhouette split like a blade into the storm. Runes shimmered faintly along its surface, broken in places, flickering as if trying and failing to awaken.
That's when the silence hit.
No birds. No wind.
Only the rain.
A knight ahead held up his hand. "Something's wrong."
Everyone stopped.
The clearing trembled beneath their feet.
From the shadows of the twisted trees, they emerged low, hulking forms, black as tar and twice as thick. Their claws churned the wet soil, limbs bent like monstrous wolves, but bulkier, grotesque. Glowing red eyes lit up one by one beneath the curtain of rain.
Dozens.
The air reeked of sulfur and rot.
Some of the Xylens padded slowly forward on all fours, snouts twitching, muscles tight beneath sinew and scales. Others growled from the high ground, pacing near the rocks. Their bodies shimmered faintly in the stormlight. The blue glow in their throats pulsed like embers stoked by wind.
Khaos stared, chest tight. His hand clenched the hilt of his sword until his knuckles went white. He had never seen so many Xylens in one place
Waiting for something.
A low gurgling sound rose from the closest beast, its body expanding. Then
FWOOM.
A jet of blue fire burst from its mouth, arcing across the rain-soaked ground. The flames hissed violently as they met the wet earth, steam exploding into the air. A second beast joined, unleashing another torrent, searing a line through a fallen tree. The forest crackled under the sudden heat.
The rain couldn't extinguish it.
"They seem to be drawn to the tower," Rane muttered under his breath, voice barely audible beneath the rising growls. "They smell the magic. Like flies to rot."
He didn't say more. There wasn't time to think.
The knights formed a tight line, blades raised, shields forward.
And then the beasts charged.
There was no formation, no rhythm to it. Just pure, rabid hunger. They came in waves snarling, burning, howling through the trees, mud flying beneath their pounding limbs.
The knights held the line.
One Xylen leapt its massive body slamming into a knight's shield with enough force to send him sprawling into the mud. He rolled up just as a second one barreled toward him, blue flame lighting up its throat
Khaos screamed.
"LOOK OUT!"
Too late.
The fire struck the knight full-on, engulfing him in a flash of blue. His scream was ripped from his throat as he was thrown back into a tree, armor melted, steam rising from his blackened corpse.
Khaos staggered, nearly tripping. The heat had hit his face like a slap even from where he stood.
The horde didn't pause. Another burst of fire lit up the dark. Another knight dropped to one knee, fending off snapping jaws.
"Khaos!" Rane barked, parrying a claw that scraped deep into his shoulder guard. "Eyes up! We move or we die!"
The tower loomed behind the chaos, a black spire framed in fog and firelight. It looked so close now but between them and its gates lay a sea of monsters and death.
Something about the tower pulsed with an ancient power. Khaos could feel it like a heartbeat deep underground. It was no wonder the Xylen were here in force. Drawn like moths, or animals in heat. But whether they came to feed, nest, or simply burn, none of them knew.
And right now, knowing didn't matter.
Only surviving did.