The dust kicked up by hundreds of beastkin running toward the mountain was terrifying. Nyra, her spear still stained with blood and the Mother Tree's mark burning on her forehead, fixed her gaze on the base of the valley.
The first shadows began to slip through the tall grass. At first, they appeared to be scattered movements, like those of any group of animals in the distance. However, their murderous intent was unmistakable: a bloodthirsty presence that threatened to devour everything in its path.
An ancient fear tried to invade her, spreading through her chest and tensing her muscles as it reminded her of those nights when hiding had been the only way to survive.
But this time, she did not retreat.
No… I'm not the same as before.
The carnivorous beastkin charged just as a rain of arrows filled the sky. Wrapped in mana, they fell upon the enemy ranks like divine judgment. The dark elves did not stop after a single volley; they fired without pause, with one clear objective: reduce the number of attackers before they reached the defenses.
However, the carnivores did not slow down. Several fell, but the rest simply ran over their bodies without hesitation. Although they did not advance in a strict formation, they spread out and separated, searching for any slope, crack, or foothold that would allow them to gain altitude.
A broad deployment with a single purpose:
Climb, kill, and devour.
Some ran on all fours, while others propelled themselves forward with short leaps, their claws scraping against the rock in a constant screech. Nyra recognized several of them: hyenas, great cats, and predators she had learned to avoid for as long as she could remember.
But among them were different specimens, their bodies moving with a strange rigidity, as if the force driving them did not fit their anatomy.
They were not merely stronger.
Something about them was fundamentally wrong.
"They're coming…" she murmured, barely above a whisper.
On the walls, the reaction was immediate. The humans took position on the front line, adjusting their grips and lowering their centers of gravity to block the approaches offered by the newly constructed wall.
Behind them, the dark elves drew their bows once more and fired precise shots aimed at eyes, throats, and joints. Some creatures fell, but others barely slowed down.
It was not enough.
The first impact came seconds later.
A carnivore reached the edge of the rock and launched itself upward. A human met it head-on with his spear, but the beast's weight forced him half a step backward. His boots slipped, and for an instant, it seemed as though he would lose his balance.
Then he felt the stone harden beneath his feet, restoring his footing.
With his stance firmly reestablished, the man drove the spear the rest of the way through and brought down the wounded creature.
There was no time to ask questions.
Another leap.
Another impact.
The thunderous sound of rock giving way beneath claws was followed by the clash of metal against flesh, punctuated by dull blows, growls, and ragged breathing.
The enemies were getting closer and vastly outnumbered the defensive lines, leaving behind a retreat or a breach after every clash that had to be covered immediately.
Nyra saw it clearly: they would not hold out for long at this pace.
She tightened her grip on the spear with both hands. Her arms burned, and her muscles trembled after she had lost count of how many attacks she had stopped.
At that moment, a hyena lunged directly at her.
Nyra blocked the charge, but the impact traveled through her arms and into her shoulders, forcing her knees to buckle. For one agonizing second, her body demanded that she surrender.
That was when the mark on her forehead burned.
A warm current descended through her neck, entered her chest, and continued spreading through her veins.
Nyra opened her eyes and felt the trembling in her limbs disappear all at once. It was not the gradual recovery of someone catching their breath after a long run. The energy was simply there, available and ready to be used, as though an inner door had suddenly been thrown wide open.
Nyra pushed with all her strength, sending the hyena flying.
She stared at her hands for the briefest moment.
"What…?"
There was no time to reflect.
Another creature leapt forward. Nyra immediately raised her spear, this time without the slightest hesitation.
Despite the fear still constricting her chest, a clear purpose drove her actions:
Protect her home.
All along the wall, the same scene repeated itself.
An exhausted elf fired one final arrow, feeling his core completely drain, but the amber mark reacted instantly, dispelling his fatigue and allowing him to draw his bow once more.
A few meters away, another warrior dropped to his knees after blocking a brutal impact. Before he could collapse, the earth rose beneath his back to support him, while an allied hand pushed him upright.
He took a deep breath once.
Twice.
Then returned to his guard.
They were not stronger than the monsters, nor had they become invincible. But every time their bodies reached a limit that would previously have meant death, an invisible force sustained them a little longer.
The exhaustion did not disappear, but it no longer had the power to drive them from the battle.
At that moment, Nyra sensed a change in the terrain.
The danger was not coming solely from the main front.
To her left, beyond the edge of the forest, larger and heavier shadows began to emerge. They advanced at a steady trot in a concentrated march, heading directly toward the base of the mountain.
There were no claws or fangs in that formation.
Only the dry pounding of hooves and the clash of horns.
Nyra frowned in confusion.
"What…?"
She recognized the silhouettes immediately: herbivorous beastkin.
"Weren't they our allies?"
The herds entered the battlefield with steady, measured steps. They neither shoved nor broke rhythm. They spread out with just enough precision to avoid interfering with one another without losing their trajectory, heading straight toward the carnivores.
When they reached the base, the collision was inevitable.
Without slowing down, one of the largest creatures slammed sideways into a hyena in midair, knocking it off course before it could reach the wall.
It did not pursue it or attempt to finish it off.
It simply neutralized its advance.
Another herbivore occupied a gap between the rocks where two predators were struggling to climb, standing firm like a bulwark until they were forced to retreat.
Nyra stepped toward the edge of the wall and understood everything.
The herbivores were not attacking the mountain.
They had come to its aid.
Their robust bodies were covered in thick hide and coarse fur, their limbs ending in hooves capable of fracturing rock, while curved horns emerged from their heads, solemn as the branches of ancient trees.
They advanced with determination, neither rushing nor stopping, honoring the ancient pact forged when the forests still shared the same waters and the tribes respected one another's grazing lands.
They had not come to shed blood for pleasure.
They had come to fulfill a historical obligation.
The course of the battle shifted decisively.
Claws and jaws collided with hooves and horns.
When a carnivore leapt toward an elf, an herbivore intercepted it in midair, lowering its head and delivering a savage charge. Its horn pierced the predator before hurling it against the rocky wall.
The dark elves took advantage of the newly opened gaps, unleashing volleys of arrows that no longer sought chaos, but the exposed weak points of the carnivores.
The humans advanced in unison, using war cries as they exploited the openings the heavy infantry created in the enemy ranks.
It was not a clean victory.
Blood soaked the ground among fallen carnivores, wounded herbivores, and humans who failed to retreat in time.
Yet what had initially seemed to foreshadow an inevitable defeat transformed into resistance, then into balance, and finally into the attackers' retreat.
When an enormous predator managed to climb onto a ledge and dug its claws in to overcome the defenses, a sideways charge struck it at precisely the right moment, throwing it off balance and sending it plummeting into the abyss.
Nyra narrowed her eyes at the formation.
"They're… organized."
This was not an improvised maneuver.
Then, the warrior fighting beside her staggered.
Nyra quickly reached out and caught him by the shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
The man nodded with effort.
"Yes."
Nyra examined him closely. He was pale, covered in cold sweat, and breathing heavily, but he remained firmly on his feet.
"How can you keep fighting?"
The warrior lowered his gaze toward the amber mark glowing on the back of his hand.
"I don't know," he murmured as the seal pulsed softly once more. "It just… keeps coming."
Nyra understood then.
As long as the Tree remained…
the battle could continue.
The movements of the carnivores became increasingly rough and sluggish. They were losing precision in their attacks and forcing their bodies beyond what was necessary as exhaustion took its toll.
It was at this crucial moment that Lusian and his group burst onto the battlefield.
The fear Nyra had been carrying in her chest immediately dissipated.
Driven by a sudden impulse, as though Lusian's mere presence had restored her courage in an instant, she ran toward him without thinking twice, eager to join the vanguard.
Lusian stared directly at her.
"Return to your position."
Nyra opened her mouth to protest.
"But…"
"Your position."
His tone was dry and firm, leaving no room for argument.
Nyra clenched her teeth.
She looked toward the front, where the mass of enemies roared. Then she looked back at Lusian.
Finally, she turned around and returned to the wall.
She did not do so out of fear.
For the first time, she understood that protecting her home also required the discipline to know where she was needed most—and to remain exactly there.