The night over the village had fallen into a dreadful silence, save for the hum of the dome and the faint crackle of distant flames. It was a fragile peace, brittle and trembling on the edge of collapse. And collapse it did.
From within the monstrous, swirling mass of the gate, something ancient and cruel stirred. The air rippled with suffocating heat as the Blazebane Howler stepped forward—no rush, no frantic scurrying like the lesser disasters that had poured from the rift before. This was different. This was deliberate. Its enormous frame emerged, towering over the battlefield like a god of fire and ruin. Thick, coarse fur, blackened like smoldering coal, rippled with every movement, and along its back, deep blue flames licked and twisted like serpents, casting ghostly lights across the scorched earth. Its long tail flicked lazily behind it, every pass through the air releasing shimmering arcs of flame that painted the night in streaks of deadly cobalt.
Where its paws pressed into the ground, the earth itself seemed to ignite. Not red. Not orange. But blue—a hue that was never meant to belong to fire, a color that whispered of heat so intense it transcended normal flame. This was elemental fire, the kind only disasters of the highest tier could manipulate. Fire that obeyed no ordinary laws. Fire that consumed not just matter but the very essence of life itself.
And then it roared.
A guttural, earth-shattering sound, so deep and vast it felt like it rose from the core of the world itself. The Blazebane Howler's roar wasn't merely heard—it was felt, vibrating through the bones of every fighter present. It was a command to its kin, and they obeyed. The rank two lynx scattered across the field lifted their snouts and howled back, their bodies invigorated by the dominion of their master. Their eyes gleamed brighter. Their speed doubled. Their attacks grew savage, ruthless beyond what any of the soldiers had encountered thus far.
And as the echoes faded, so did the last vestige of hope. The earth wall, hastily erected and reinforced with layers of essence, crumbled like dust beneath the resonance of that roar. Large cracks tore through it as if invisible hands had smashed it from the inside. Before anyone could blink, sections of the defense simply collapsed in on themselves, leaving only broken stone and open sky.
Captain Raynor, panting, the blood of slain lynx staining his twin machetes, stood atop the rubble, eyes wide as the colossal figure lounged at the gate's mouth.
"That's... a Blazebane Howler," he muttered, voice hoarse as ash-laden wind battered his face. He turned and shouted, his voice cutting across the chaos. "Everyone retreat! Back to the dome! Now!"
The command was absolute.
Raynor swung his blades, finishing off the stunned rank two lynx before him, cleaving through its neck in one smooth, practiced motion, its body falling limp as embers escaped from its wounds. "We won't last another minute out here! Every second we stay, that thing feeds its minions! If we don't pull back, we won't even get the chance to fight the dungeon boss!"
They ran. Fifteen fighters left from what had once been nearly forty. Some sprinted. Some stumbled. Others weren't fast enough.
A young officer—barely past his first year—was the first to fall, his leg snagged by a rank two lynx, its flaming maw tearing into his back before he could scream. He thrashed, sword scraping uselessly against its hide, before he was dragged back into the sea of snarling bodies. Another, a spearman, tried to cover his comrades' retreat, spinning his essence-forged spear with desperate precision. For a moment, it seemed he might hold. But then, three lynx leapt upon him at once, pinning him down as teeth and claws tore him apart, his dying roars drowned beneath their growls.
Raynor heard every death. Felt each loss like a blow to his own ribs. But they had no choice. The survivors slammed into the sanctuary of the dome just as the first of the lynx battered themselves against its shimmering walls. The entire structure hummed with the strain of the assault, the hexagonal panels flickering with ripples of lavender light as the mages within fought to maintain the barrier.
And from outside the dome, the Blazebane Howler watched. Silent. Patient.
It barely cared for the skirmish unfolding at its feet. Instead, it lowered its body onto its haunches, like a king observing a pitiful rebellion. The ground blackened beneath its weight, and the very air grew thinner, filled with the scent of ozone and ash. When it opened one glowing eye to survey the scene, the pressure was so intense that even from behind the safety of the dome, Raynor felt his knees weaken.
Then its tail lifted.
The blue flames along its length condensed, coiling inwards like a serpent ready to strike. The night itself seemed to pulse as the light grew unbearably bright, and then the flames snapped forward—a singular beam of searing blue fire that shot across the battlefield and tore through the dome's side like paper.
One of the supporting mages screamed as the inferno washed over him, his body reduced to cinders before he could even register his own death.
For a heartbeat, silence.
And then the lynx poured in.
Raynor fought. They all fought. Josef and Charles struck with everything they had, blades flashing, essence burning away in their desperation. But the flood was too much. Josef fell first, overrun by three lynx that tore him down before he could raise his shield. Charles tried to pull him back and was met with fangs at his throat, his final gurgled breath lost amidst the chaos.
Raynor backed into a corner, breath ragged, the last of his energy dripping away like a leaking faucet. He swung his twin machetes weakly, feeling the inevitable crawling closer with every second. A rank two lynx lunged—and then, it didn't.
A gale of wind, cold and fierce, ripped through the battlefield, sweeping away the lynx at the entrance in a sudden, thunderous burst.
Raynor blinked. For the first time in what felt like hours, he breathed.
"Finally... reinforcements."
Corbin floated down from the skies, his figure illuminated in the moonlight, robes fluttering as currents of air spiraled around him like a living shield. The aura of a mid-rank three wind mage radiated from his body, filling the field with a breeze so strong it felt as if the night itself had shifted in his favor. For a moment, even the Blazebane Howler opened its other eye, staring lazily at him. But as it sensed the Amethyst Purple hue of Corbin's essence, it scoffed—figuratively, if not literally—and closed its eye once more. A mid-rank three? Irrelevant.
Corbin snorted at the disrespect but knew better than to challenge it directly.
"Cover the breach," he ordered, his voice cutting like a blade. "I'll hold the barrier from here. Kids, help wherever you can—but stay smart."
Above, a hover car hovered just out of reach. From its side door, Garrick stepped out, calm as the night was hot, and as he descended, the air shifted once more.
The Royal Purple aura of a peak rank three warrior unleashed itself in full, flooding the battlefield like a rising tide of pure power. Below him, lesser lynx simply collapsed, crushed beneath the sheer weight of it. Even the Blazebane Howler snapped its head up, its eyes narrowing as its own lavender aura surged, and for the first time that night, it stood.
The air between them cracked as two titans prepared to collide.
A clash not just of strength, but of supremacy.
And the night...
The night was just getting started.