The massive northern gate of Wonka City, twelve meters tall and eight meters wide, stood partially open. Its iron-reinforced oak had weathered a thousand years of peace and war, but today it represented hope. Beyond lay the road to the neighbouring territories, to potential safety and protection under other Mage Towers.
But that hope was rapidly dwindling.
Volmar, his once-pristine blue robes now tattered and stained with blood, stood with four fellow Summoners before a huddled mass of terrified citizens. Nearly 400 people—children clutching mothers' hands, elderly supported by younger relatives, merchants who had abandoned their wares—crowded the northern plaza, eyes fixed on the partially open gate.
"Hold the line!" Volmar commanded, his voice cracking with exhaustion. "Maintain formation!"
The five Summoners formed a protective semicircle, their remaining summons standing as the last barrier between the civilians and certain death. Beyond the gate, olive-green exoskeletons swarmed across the landscape. Dozens of Grunts had circled the city walls, cutting off the escape route with ruthless precision.
More Zergs approached from within the city, methodically eliminating any humans they encountered. The chittering of their mandibles echoed through the streets, a sound that would haunt the nightmares of survivors for years to come—if any survived at all.
Summoning Magic—Minotaur Guardian!
Volmar activated his last magic circle, the blue glow noticeably dimmer than before as his mana reserves approached depletion. From the circle emerged his final summon—a muscular Minotaur standing three meters tall, its bull head lowered aggressively as it clutched a massive steel axe in gnarled hands.
The creature charged immediately toward a cluster of Grunts approaching from the western street. Its axe swung in devastating arcs, cleaving through exoskeletons and sending green ichor spraying across the cobblestones. Three Zergs fell in quick succession, their limbs twitching in death.
But for every Grunt felled, two more took its place. The Minotaur fought valiantly, but exhaustion began to show in its movements as the unending swarm pressed forward.
Volmar's breath came in ragged gasps, sweat pouring down his lined face despite the cool evening air. His mana capacity, once capable of supporting five simultaneous summons, had been reduced to maintaining a single creature and occasional defensive spells.
A woman's scream cut through the chaos as a Grunt breached the eastern flank, seizing a child in its mandibles. Without hesitation, Volmar raised his trembling hands.
Water Magic—Water Bubble!
A sphere of swirling water materialized around the child and several nearby civilians, forcing the Grunt back. The creature's mandibles scraped against the liquid barrier, unable to penetrate its surface tension enhanced by magical energy.
Volmar staggered, the effort of maintaining both the Minotaur and the water bubble pushing him to his physical limits. His vision blurred momentarily as mana depletion took its toll on his aged body.
"If only..." he muttered, steadying himself against a fallen column. "If only our grand summoning had succeeded as intended."
The irony was almost too painful to bear. For years, the Summoner Tower had been researching methods to enhance their capabilities, to summon creatures powerful enough to stand against the evolving Zerg threat. Their efforts had culminated in that final ritual—a summoning that had indeed brought forth a being of immense power.
"We succeeded," Volmar said bitterly to a young Summoner beside him. "The grand summoning worked perfectly. We called forth a creature of unimaginable strength."
The young mage glanced at him questioningly, confusion evident on his blood-spattered face.
"But instead of obeying, it turned on us," Volmar continued, his voice hollow with despair. "That... Titan... destroyed everything we built over a millennium. Had it not destroyed us, we would have had the strength to resist this onslaught. We would have had hundreds of Summoners, not merely five."
A Grunt leapt onto the Minotaur's back, digging its claws into the muscular shoulders. The bull-headed creature bellowed in pain, reaching back to dislodge its attacker. The distraction proved fatal as three more Zergs attacked from the front, their coordinated assault overwhelming the summon.
"Renwick! On your left!" Volmar shouted.
Too late. A Grunt burst through a shattered storefront, tackling the Summoner before he could react. The mage's scream was cut brutally short as mandibles closed around his throat, severing his head.
"NO!"
The remaining Summoners fought with desperate courage, but one by one they fell. Lyra, the youngest at merely twenty-six years old, managed to summon a fiery falcon before a Grunt's claw punctured her chest from behind. The burning bird screeched in rage, dive-bombing the Zerg and immolating both itself and its target in a final act of vengeance.
Kaiden and Elias, twin brothers who had studied summoning since childhood, died back-to-back, surrounded by a ring of Grunts that closed in with inexorable precision. Their summons disappeared the instant their creators perished.
Volmar's water bubble shimmered and wobbled as his concentration wavered. The last of his mana drained away like water through cupped fingers, leaving him empty and defenceless. The bubble collapsed, water splashing onto the cobblestones as the Zergs surged forward.
The civilians screamed in terror as their final protection vanished. The Grunts fell upon them, claws and mandibles tearing through flesh with horrific ease. A young mother was bisected as she tried to shield her infant. An elderly man had his limbs systematically removed before the killing blow was delivered. A teenage boy fought back with a broken sword, managing to damage a Grunt's antenna before being overwhelmed by three more.
Volmar screamed until his throat was raw, witnessing the slaughter he was powerless to prevent. His Minotaur, his final summon, flickered and dissolved into mana particles as the contract between them got severed.
Rage overtook him, a primal fury that transcended training and reason. Volmar seized a brick from the rubble at his feet and charged the nearest Grunt. He slammed the improvised weapon against the creature's head with all his remaining strength.
The brick shattered, leaving the Grunt undamaged. It turned slowly, almost curiously, to observe this strange human who attacked without magic. Its mandibles opened wide, then snapped shut around Volmar's midsection.
Excruciating pain blossomed as the serrated edges cut deep into his stomach, slicing through the organ. Volmar felt strength leaving his body, his legs no longer able to support his weight. He collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from the wound.
"Curse you," he whispered, his voice barely audible as blood bubbled from his lips. "Curse your Queen. Curse your kind. Curse the Titan that doomed us all."
Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. The sounds of slaughter grew distant, as if heard through water. 'The Summoner Tower falls not with glory, but with whimpers and screams.'
As consciousness began to slip away, a familiar roar cut through the fog of pain. Volmar forced his eyes open, vision swimming as he tried to focus.
A massive three-headed hound burst through the carnage, all three mouths working in perfect coordination to tear apart Grunts that stood in its path. Its midnight-black fur was matted with green ichor and its own blood, wounds decorating its massive frame like grotesque medals of honour.
'Kalina's Cerberus,' Volmar realized, a faint smile touching his lips. 'At least she survived. At least one Elder remains.'
The Cerberus fought its way to him, scattering Zergs with its massive paws. Before Volmar could process what was happening, the beast's central head gently clamped onto his robes and lifted him, tossing him onto its broad back with surprising gentleness.
"Volmar! Stay with me!" Kalina's voice penetrated the fog enveloping his mind. Her hands steadied him as the Cerberus pivoted and charged back the way it had come, teeth and claws clearing a path through the Zerg horde.
Dizzy from blood loss, Volmar barely registered the other passenger secured to the Cerberus's back. A man with handsome but haggard features, wearing tattered formal attire unlike any fashion in Encarta. His legs were only partially regenerated, ending in malformed feet that seemed to be still growing tissue.
The stranger observed the Grunts with clinical detachment, his eyes analysing their movements and attack patterns with academic interest. Despite being tied to the Cerberus and bounced mercilessly as the beast ran, he maintained an air of dignity and purpose.
"Their coordination is impressive," the man commented, his accent strange to Volmar's ears. "They operate like a singular organism with distributed parts, maximising tactical advantage through perfect synchronisation."
A Grunt leapt at the fleeing Cerberus, its claws raking deep gouges in the hound's flank. The beast yelped in pain but continued running, blood flowing freely from dozens of wounds.
"You have your work cut out for you," Kalina said grimly to the stranger, her hands busy trying to stanch Volmar's abdominal wound. "You better uphold your promise."
The man nodded, his expression sombre yet resolved. "I intend to do so."
"You see," He said as realisation clicked in Volmar, "The Warhammer Titan excels in warfare. I am your best bet against this swarm."