Steel clashed. Claws scraped. The battlefield trembled under the weight of chaos.
Alex twisted, sword arcing through the air. It sank into the chest of a beast, which collapsed with a wet gurgle, swallowed by the trampling feet of its kin. He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning. His mind processed faster than any human should—faster than even he could understand.
It wasn't magic. It wasn't instinct. It was something deeper. Something wrong.
Then he saw them.
A group of soldiers, stragglers from the main fight, sprinted back toward the battlefield. Armour dented, blood smeared, faces etched with terror.
Everyone else saw confused, panicked soldiers returning.
Alex saw the thing chasing them.
A towering silhouette emerged through the ash-choked air. Hulking. Silent. Predatory. It moved effortlessly, flickering in and out of smoke like a phantom.
It wasn't just chasing. It was devouring.
The beast's jaws opened impossibly wide. One by one, the fleeing soldiers vanished. No screams. No struggle. Gone.
Even the lesser beasts in its path weren't spared. Everything in its way was erased.
To the rest, it looked like soldiers scrambling back. To Alex, it was death made visible.
Ciara, Jack, and Peter saw it moments later, lumbering from the shadows.
Ciara's daggers slipped in her grip. Peter's breath hitched.
Then it landed.
The ground shivered under its weight. The world shifted.
The God of War turned, narrowing his eyes—not panicked, but recognising something he shouldn't.
A memory stirred. One word echoed in his mind: Paragon.
Not god. Not mortal. Predator of both.
He cracked his neck. Muscles coiled. Restraint was over.
Ciara stepped back, uncertain. Jack followed.
The beast's gaze settled on them. And the air froze.
Not a spell. Not divine. A presence.
Its aura draped over the field like cold tar—paralysing, suffocating.
Ciara couldn't move. Jack's sword sank slightly. Peter's jaw clenched, sweat running down his brow.
They had faced death before. But this—this was fear made tangible.
Only two moved.
Alex stepped forward, massive sword in hand. Instinct screamed. Mind sharpened. He didn't remember the beast. Didn't know why. Only that it had to be stopped.
The God of War walked forward, cracking his knuckles. First strike.
Thunderous fists smashed into the beast's torso, throwing it back a dozen paces. The ground shook.
Alex slashed through its shoulder, steel meeting flesh, bone shattering with brutal precision. The beast howled.
Claws lashed. Alex skidded across rubble. The God of War blocked blows with his bracers, driving the creature through a scorched pillar.
Chaos erupted.
Fists broke stone and scale. Alex darted in and out, striking with lethal speed. Together, they pushed the beast hard.
The others watched, frozen—not from fear, but awe.
Then reality shifted.
A black portal spiralled open in the sky. Reality bent, twisted, torn like water around a drain.
The beast paused. Head turned. It stepped back.
Everyone stood stunned.
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