Behind the swarm of monsters—or demons, as most called them—stood two distinct figures. They were enormous, towering shadows among the horde. Each one carried a massive cleaver that dragged across the grass, the blades releasing a faint dark-purple aura. Wherever the aura touched, the ground withered. Every so often, the trolls shoved trees aside as if they were mere twigs. Standing nearly nine feet tall, these giants were unmistakably trolls.
Zin emerged from the throng of kobolds and goblins. Oddly, their primal instincts caused them to part for him, allowing his casual steps through their ranks. Soon he stood before the next group—five orcs. And behind them loomed the trolls, their power clearly at knight rank, far beyond what Siel or the others could handle.
He drew his sword, and then he blinked.
When his figure reappeared, two orcs lay dead on the ground. He blinked again, and by the third step, all five were slain.
"Hmm… seems you two were specially equipped to deal with elves, considering those dark-enchanted weapons you carry."
His eyes flicked upward. Though his mana was nearly sealed, his instincts allowed him to sense the figures in the sky. The ghastly miasma clinging to them gave their identity away—they were demons.
"This would have been troublesome… if I hadn't obeyed Seras."
The first troll roared, stomping forward. Each step echoed through the forest, shaking the earth. It swung its cleaver, tearing apart trees as the blade swept past Zin. He stepped back, but the second troll was already closing in from behind, ready to strike.
With no mana, Zin was at most predator rank, and even he might struggle here. He turned and parried the blow. The impact launched him into a tree, splintering bark.
He dusted himself off, recalling that the gap between predator and knight rank wasn't sheer power—it was experience. Still, many predators surpassed knights, and these trolls were not ordinary.
As he steadied himself, both trolls charged. Their blades came down in brutal arcs. Zin parried one, dodged the other, and redirected their force rather than taking it head-on. He used their momentum, never yielding ground.
Then he leapt into the air. One troll followed, launching its massive frame upward.
"That's a bit unfair," Zin muttered with a grin. His smile widened as he summoned mana—limited, but still usable.
He shaped a thin layer of mana into tiny platforms beneath his feet, propelling himself forward in bursts. The troll lifted its cleaver to block.
"Blocking, huh? That won't save you." Zin smirked. He steadied himself on a mana platform, then drove forward in a piercing strike.
The tip of his sword glowed faintly. His strike connected, and the troll was blasted into the ground, carving a crater and annihilating the surrounding trees. Its body convulsed as blood poured from every wound, its grip slipping from the cleaver as the light in its eyes faded.
Zin turned sharply toward the second troll, dashing with excitement gleaming in his eyes. He hadn't unleashed these techniques in years—his blood sang with exhilaration.
"You're next."
---
While the monsters skirted Zin's presence, Siel felt unease. He could sense the demonic energy seeping from beyond the horde, but he had no time to dwell on it. He drew the massive sword from his back, exhaling slowly before charging.
"I should thin their numbers before they cluster too tightly."
He swung with ruthless precision, cutting down goblins as he advanced. They fell easily, far weaker than him. But soon he met his true targets.
"Kobolds."
The word left his lips with bitterness. He had faced them as a slave. Kobolds were merciless foes—most of his companions had died in mines because of them.
And here, two groups had formed: one of five, the other of six. Worse, they bore strange weapons, unusual for kobolds.
Siel wasted no time, cutting the first down in a single strike. The rest closed in, trying to surround him.
He shifted tactics, climbing into the canopy. From above he descended, striking them down one by one. Kobolds weren't built for climbing; they struggled to follow.
The numbers dwindled until only three remained. These three, however, were different. Each bore a large mane and carried weapons linked to the nomadic tribes of the Kuri Desert, deep in the southeastern territories.
Siel froze briefly. That tribe was led by the demon king Varvusta—weakest of the seven demon kings. But what business would Varvusta have here, in the dangerous Central Plains of Lior, watched closely by humans and elves alike?
He shook the thought away just in time to dodge a strike from one of the mane-bearing kobolds. The three attacked relentlessly, giving him no chance to counter.
A manic grin spread across his face as his body glowed faintly green, mana coating the edge of his blade.
"The difference isn't in quantity… but quality."
With a single vertical slash, his sword cleaved a kobold in half. Blood sprayed across his face, his eyes glowing beneath the shadowed canopy. The remaining two froze under his gaze as his smile twisted into something feral.
They understood—they were outmatched.
Counting the fallen, Siel tallied ten kobold corpses. But there had been eleven. His brow furrowed. Before he could voice it, Zin appeared, sheathing his blade.
"Seems you handled yourself well."
Distracted, Siel let the missing kobold slip from his thoughts, his mind turning instead to a greater question—how had monsters breached this forest, one protected by a primordial barrier?
---
Elsewhere, Gilly charged forward, trusting Zenora to watch her back. But to her shock, the brave girl faltered at the sight of goblins. Her knees buckled, trembling violently as fear paralyzed her.
Gilly fought desperately, cutting down one goblin, then another, then a third. Her blade outmatched their crude weapons, but sheer numbers pressed her down. They struck at her together, forcing her into constant defense.
"Calm down… calm down… you can do this."
Zenora whispered to herself, but her mind was lost in memories. She was back in the mines, a child, her mother's voice urging her to run. She had obeyed—fleeing without looking back as her mother's final scream echoed behind her.
She carried the weight of that decision: she had abandoned her only family, even if it was her mother's wish.
Her vision blurred. In the mine's darkness she had been hunted by goblins, beaten with clubs and crude blades, no one left alive to save her. She had bled, terrified, praying that the afterlife would offer peace.
Here and now, she froze again.
Gilly managed to kill another goblin, leaving two. But out of the corner of her eye she saw it—one of the mane-bearing kobolds approaching Zenora.
Occupied, she couldn't intervene.
Zenora stumbled back, eyes wide. The kobold raised its weapon to strike. In desperation, she conjured a barrier, collapsing to the ground as fear clouded her thoughts.
The kobold struck again and again. Cracks spread across the barrier like spiderwebs until, with a sharp shatter, it broke. Zenora squeezed her eyes shut, accepting her end.
Gilly's heart pounded as exhaustion set in. She cut down the last goblins, only to see Zenora's barrier failing. She wouldn't make it in time.
Then she remembered—the technique she had used during the exam.
Planting her feet, she gathered mana into her legs. Her body crouched low, every muscle tensed.
"I won't lose anyone again."
With an explosive burst, her heels shattered against the ground, pain ripping through her bones. She propelled herself forward at impossible speed, reaching the kobold just as it raised its blade.
Her bones cracked, but they knit back together as her regeneration flared. Her sword glowed faintly under the light of the three moons.
In one decisive strike, she cleaved the kobold clean in half.
Silence fell.
Zenora, untouched, opened her eyes. Blood sprinkled her cheeks. Above her stood Gilly, her face lit faintly by moonlight, the corpse of the kobold split beside her.
Tears welled in Zenora's eyes. She broke down, sobbing into the dirt.
Siel and Zin emerged from the shadows, meeting one another as they approached.
Gilly's body gave out. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her throbbing foot. The wound was healing, but the pain was still unbearable