The cadets were deep into their sparring drills, the rhythmic clatter of training weapons filling the air. Dobroslav moved between pairs, correcting stances and offering encouragement. Borzygniew stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, his watchful gaze following every movement.
Then it happened.
A deafening crack split the air, and a blinding pink bolt of lightning struck the center of the training ground. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, knocking cadets and instructors off their feet. Dobroslav stumbled but managed to keep his balance, instinctively shielding his face from the searing light.
When he lowered his arm, the sight before him froze him in place.
A vortex swirled where the lightning had struck, its center a chaotic storm of light and shadow. The air around it pulsed with an oppressive energy that made it hard to breathe. The ground beneath it cracked and blackened, as if scorched by an otherworldly fire.
"What… is that?" Eryka whispered, her voice trembling.
Before anyone could answer, the vortex began to ripple, its edges glowing brighter. Shapes started emerging—twisted, hunched figures with green, leathery skin and glowing red eyes. Each carried crude weapons: jagged blades, spiked clubs, and rusted spears.
Dobroslav recognized them immediately. Goblins—or something very much like them. These weren't the mischievous tricksters of folklore. These were predators, their movements calculated and feral.
Borzygniew recovered first, his booming voice cutting through the rising panic.
"Defensive line! Instructors, arm yourselves!"
Dobroslav snapped into action, grabbing a sword from the nearby rack. "Cadets, behind me!" he ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Stay together and hold your ground!"
The first wave of goblins charged, their guttural cries piercing the air. Dobroslav moved to intercept them, his blade swinging in a clean arc that caught the lead creature in the chest. It crumpled to the ground, but more surged forward, undeterred.
Dobroslav fought with precision, each strike deliberate, his years of martial arts training evident in his movements. Beside him, Borzygniew cut through the creatures with brutal efficiency, his steel blade flashing in the dim light.
"Don't let them flank us!" Borzygniew bellowed. "Fight smart! Work together!"
Dobroslav spared a quick glance at the cadets. They were holding their ground, some better than others. Eryka stood out, her movements graceful and controlled as she dispatched a goblin with a well-placed strike to its neck.
But the goblins kept coming, pouring out of the vortex in seemingly endless numbers. Dobroslav felt his muscles burning from the effort of keeping them at bay. Yet, even as he fought, his gaze kept drifting toward the swirling portal.
There was something about it—something he couldn't ignore. As the vortex pulsed and rippled, a spark flickered in Dobroslav's eyes. He felt a strange connection, as if the energy radiating from the portal was reaching out to him, calling to him.
For a moment, the battle seemed to fade away. The sounds of clashing weapons and shouted orders became distant, muffled. The vortex's chaotic patterns seemed to align, forming shapes he couldn't fully comprehend but felt he should understand. His chest tightened, and his pulse quickened, though not out of fear. It was as if the portal was alive, aware of him, and somehow… familiar.
"Dobroslav!" Borzygniew's shout snapped him back to reality. A goblin was lunging at him, its jagged blade aimed at his chest.
Dobroslav reacted instinctively, sidestepping the attack and delivering a swift counter strike that sent the creature sprawling.
"Focus, soldier!" Borzygniew growled, his tone sharp but not unkind.
"Right," Dobroslav muttered, shaking off the strange sensation. He tightened his grip on his sword and turned his attention back to the fight.
But the connection lingered, an inexplicable pull that made him feel as though the vortex wasn't just a threat—it was something more.
As the battle raged on, the vortex pulsed again, and a larger figure began to emerge. It was taller than the goblins, its gnarled skin dark and rough, with a crown of jagged horns atop its head. It wielded a massive axe, and its presence exuded a menacing power that made even the goblins pause.
The creature roared, its voice shaking the ground, and locked eyes with Dobroslav.
"Here it comes," Dobroslav muttered, stepping forward to meet the new threat.
Dobroslav's grip tightened around his sword, his knuckles white against the smooth grain. The horned creature towered before him, its crimson eyes glowing with malice. It raised a massive, rusted axe, the weapon humming with an unnatural energy.
I'm not ready for this, Dobroslav thought, his heart pounding against his ribs. But if I run now, they'll all die. His gaze flicked to the cadets, fighting desperately against the smaller beasts. A flash of long brown hair caught his eye—Eryka, darting gracefully between strikes. He clenched his jaw. I can't fail them. I won't.
The creature roared and charged, its heavy footsteps shaking the earth beneath them. Dobroslav sidestepped just as the axe came crashing down, splintering the ground where he had stood. Dust and debris exploded into the air. He swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for the creature's exposed side. The blade connected cutting deep into the creature like a hot knife into butter.
What the—? The thought barely formed before the creature retaliated, spinning with unexpected agility. Its axe swept toward his midsection. Dobroslav dropped into a low roll, feeling the wind of the blade whistle over his head. He sprang to his feet, pivoted, and thrust his sword upward.
The blade struck the creature's forearm, cutting it off. Dobroslav's muscles burned, but something deep inside him urged him forward. Faster. Harder.
The creature snarled, baring jagged teeth, and lunged again. Its claws raked the air inches from his face. Dobroslav parried with his sword, each impact vibrating through his arms. Every strike came with an intensity that should have left him exhausted, but instead, he felt stronger, sharper.
What's happening to me? The thought echoed in his mind as he moved with a fluidity he hadn't known he possessed. It was as if his body no longer hesitated, each movement precise and instinctive.
The creature roared in frustration and swung its axe in a downward arc meant to cleave him in two. Dobroslav sidestepped, the blade slamming into the earth with a deafening crash. Before the creature could recover, he surged forward, his sword aimed at its chest.
The strike landed true. The creature's roar turned into a shriek that pierced the air, shaking Dobroslav to his core. Black smoke erupted from the wound, curling around his blade and then toward him.
"No," he whispered, stepping back, but the smoke followed, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It swirled around his body, cold and suffocating, before sinking into his chest.
His vision darkened, and for a brief moment, the world around him faded. He saw flashes of another place—an endless wasteland under a blood-red sky, swarming with creatures like the one he'd just felled. He heard their guttural growls, felt their rage and hunger.
Dobroslav gasped, snapping back to reality. He stumbled, clutching his chest, where a faint, icy warmth lingered. His hands trembled as he looked down at them. Black tendrils of energy flickered around his fingertips before fading.
What did I just do?
"Dobroslav!" Borzygniew's voice cut through the haze. "Get it together!"
The remaining creatures hesitated, their snarls tinged with a strange wariness. They eyed Dobroslav as though recognizing something in him—something they feared.
Another beast broke from the pack and charged. Its claws extended as it leapt through the air. Dobroslav raised his sword instinctively, but this time, the blade crackled with faint dark energy. He swung upward cleaving through the creature's torso with unnatural ease.
As it fell, its shadow detached and spiraled toward him. Dobroslav staggered as the dark smoke seeped into his chest once more. The same cold sensation spread through him, but this time, it was followed by a pulse of power. His heart raced. His muscles felt stronger, his senses sharper.
What is this? Why does it feel so… good?
The last of the smaller creatures charged at the cadets. Eryka shouted a warning, but Dobroslav was already moving. He crossed the distance in seconds, his sword flashing as it struck one beast after another. With each kill, their shadows—dark, writhing wisps—flowed into him.
By the time the final creature fell, Dobroslav stood in the center of the training ground, his chest heaving. The air around him crackled with unseen energy, and his comrades stared at him in silence.
"What… was that?" Eryka asked, her voice trembling.
Dobroslav couldn't answer. He felt powerful, but the weight of that power pressed on his mind. Whispers echoed in the back of his thoughts—faint, unintelligible, but persistent. He dropped to one knee, his sword falling from his hand.
The portal in the center of the training ground pulsed weakly, as though it were alive. Dobroslav glanced at it, and something in his chest stirred. For a moment, he felt connected to it, as if it were a part of him—or he was a part of it.
Why do I feel like I belong to that… thing?
"Dobroslav!" Borzygniew knelt beside him, his face etched with worry. "What happened to you? What is that power?"
"I… don't know." Dobroslav's voice was barely above a whisper. He looked at his trembling hands, black veins faintly visible beneath his skin.