The Commander and the giant have long vanished beyond our sight—but we still feel them.
Each clash in the distance sends shockwaves rolling across the plains, rattling the stones beneath our boots, making the air itself tremble.
But we don't have the luxury to stand and watch.
Because the next wave comes.
And this time... it is not a warm-up.
The real battle is about to begin.
Now arrive the monsters worthy of fear—
the B-ranks.
The A-ranks.
The true devourers of men.
I steady my breath, gripping my sword so tight my knuckles turn white.
This is it.
The heat of the battlefield sears my lungs, the metallic scent of blood is thick in the air.
Then I see them—
A black tide swells on the horizon.
Thousands of beasts, different shapes and breeds, pour toward us like a catastrophic flood of nightmares.
Wolves with bone plating.
Serpents coiling through the flames.
Giant horned beasts that shake the ground with each step.
Their roars merge into one single sound—
a sound that drowns every other thought in my head.
The knights around me shift formation, shields lock, aura flares.
I read it in their faces—fear, grit, and something else.
Resignation.
Because deep down, we all know—
this is where the real fight begins.
I exhale once, my heart steady now.
No room for hesitation.
No time to think.
"Hold the line!" Gareth's voice snaps through the chaos.
"Don't let them breach the wall!"
His command shocks us back to life.
A chorus of roars answers his words—not from the monsters, but from us.
Knights of the Thorne Fortress.
The last line of defense.
And as the monstrous tide finally reaches us—
the world once again drowns in blood and steel.
The knights and monsters collide—
and the world turns red.
Screams. Steel. Blood.
Everywhere I look, men and beasts are tearing each other apart.
Flesh rips, armor shatters, and the ground drowns in crimson.
A knight is ripped in half beside me.
Before his body even hits the ground, another takes his place—
and cuts the beast down.
But then another monster leaps forward and tears him apart too.
It is endless.
A cycle of death that doesn't stop to breathe.
And in the middle of it—
am I.
My lungs burn.
My armor is cracked, soaked in my own blood.
Every muscle screams, but I don't stop.
I can't.
A flash of light.
Something fast.
The B-rank wolf materializes before me—its fur sparking with blue arcs, eyes glowing with hunger.
Each step it takes leaves the ground charred.
Electricity hisses through its claws.
Then it is gone.
"No time!"
I barely raise my sword before it strikes.
A streak of lightning slashes my chest, the impact a raw, electric jolt that throws me back.
My boots dig trenches into the dirt.
Fast. Too fast.
The wolf lunges again.
I thrust my hand forward.
Flames burst from my palm, engulfing its path—
but it tears through them, its claws glowing white-hot.
I shift my mana—
I summon a water shield.
A wall of water materializes, and the wolf slams into it.
Steam erupts, the smell of burnt fur filling the air.
I move through the mist—blade glowing faintly with aura.
"Die!"
My sword cleaves through the haze, striking its side—
a clean hit, but shallow.
The beast howls and counters, lightning flaring around its jaws.
The next instant, it is gone again.
Above me.
Its claws descend.
I stomp down and raise my arm.
The earth surges upward, forming a jagged spike—
and the wolf impales itself mid-pounce, shrieking.
Before it recovers, I channel wind and fire together—
my last reserves of mana igniting the air itself.
The explosion swallows us both.
Heat sears my skin, smoke fills my lungs—
and when the fire fades, the wolf lies motionless, its body burnt and broken.
I stagger back, barely breathing.
My vision sways.
Still alive.
But only barely.
I look at my trembling hands, blood dripping from my fingertips.
Around me, the battle still rages—
and I know this isn't over.
Not even close.
I fight. I have fought for fifteen minutes without stopping.
I don't even know how many monsters I've killed—but I know the count is in the triple digits.
I've even killed some B-ranks, but only the weaker types.
It's only because of my sigils and unique traits.
They make me twice as strong as others of my rank.
But now… that strength is starting to show its limits.
My body screams at me to rest—every muscle begging to stop.
But I can't.
No… I don't want to.
This fight… this blood…
It makes me excited.
My blood boils in my veins, demanding more.
A cold, familiar pressure coils in my gut: the darkness.
It strains to come out—to fight, to kill.
But I keep it leashed.
I don't know what would happen if I let it out.
Would I be able to stop once I start?
I look around.
It's not looking good.
Our side is losing.
More than half of our knights are dead and many are injured.
The monsters, however, show no sign of stopping.
Boom! CRASH!
I hear a sound and look behind me.
A siege of monsters pummels the fortress gate.
Each impact makes the walls tremble, shaking the earth.
"Fuck… what are the mages doing?" I grit my teeth, staring at the gate.
Cracks are spreading across its surface.
Isn't it supposed to be stronger?
The mages are too busy fighting, shooting down flying monsters.
They can't hope to focus on the ones ramming the gate.
I see other knights running toward the walls to hold the line,
but I don't move.
The monsters there… they are clearly A-rank, even A+.
There's no way I can do anything about that.
I can only hope the others can stop it.
I look back at the battlefield.
A purple dome begins to shape around me—aura crackling in the air.
I dash toward the nearest monster, my body moving by instinct.
I fight again.
Kill again.
Letting myself loose in this battlefield—
where I can do anything I want,
kill all I want.
And I enjoy every little second of it.
I fought.
And fought.
And fought.
Steel met flesh.
Flesh tore.
Bones cracked.
And blood sang.
It wasn't just killing anymore.
It was something deeper.
Something primal.
Each swing, each scream, each drop of blood splattering across my face fed something inside me.
Something ancient.
Something that had been waiting.
The more I killed, the lighter I felt.
The exhaustion faded.
The pain blurred.
It was as if my body understood what my mind refused to admit.
This is what I was made for.
To cut.
To destroy.
To survive.
The first time I killed, I hesitated.
The second time, I doubted.
Now?
Now I crave it.
Every heartbeat of a dying monster is a drumbeat in my veins.
Every scream is a choir of approval.
Every kill… feels right.
And it terrifies me.
But at the same time, I can't stop smiling.
I tell myself I'm doing this to protect the fortress.
To survive.
But I know that's a lie.
I'm not fighting for them.
I'm fighting because this chaos makes sense to me.
Because in this blood and smoke, I finally feel alive.
No rules.
No nobles.
No whispers about potential or ranks.
Just me—and the kill.
The battlefield is honest.
It doesn't pretend.
It doesn't lie like people do.
It accepts me for what I am.
My blade is truth.
My aura is my faith.
And every corpse I leave behind is proof that I exist.
I feel the darkness stir again—whispering in my ear, sweet and patient.
Let me out, it says.
You're already halfway gone.
And maybe… it's right.
Maybe I already let it out.
Because when I look down at my hands,
I can't tell if the blood on them is theirs…
or mine.