A deafening roar splits the battlefield as the Terrasnake's colossal, stone-plated body scrapes against the ancient trees, pulverising them into splinters. Julie dives into a roll as its massive tail slams down where she'd stood, exploding their makeshift barricade into a cloud of shattered wood and debris. The air thrums with chaos, the screams of soldiers, the rain of arrows, and the blasting of conflicting spells.
'Aeroblast!'
Sylphy's voice cuts through the din. She compresses high-pressure air into a shimmering sphere and launches it at the Terrasnake's head. It detonates on impact, enveloping the beast in a cloud of dust and concussive force.
As the smoke clears, the dazed serpent lunges, its fanged maw gaping wide to swallow her whole. At the last possible second, Sylphy utters a quick levitation spell, hovering just out of reach as its jaws snap shut on empty air.
Distracted, the Terrasnake leaves an opening. Julie darts in, her daggers striking in a blur, but they screech harmlessly off its stone scales, sparking against the impenetrable armour.
This battle is just a microcosm of the entire fight. Elfir's furious jets of crimson fire are met and neutralised by the Vulpyre's own golden flames in a searing stalemate. Tylon is a relentless whirlwind, desperately dodging the Gravadilo's crushing rolls, while Gobuka engages in a lethal dance with the Plumivorax, his sword clashing against razor-sharp feathers.
Amazel's eyes scan the frantic stalemate, her strategist's mind calculating. 'This is a war of attrition we will lose.' Gritting her teeth, she stomps the butt of her staff into the blood-soaked earth.
'Earth Manipulation: Rampart!'
The ground beneath the Gravadilo groans and erupts upwards, forming a steep, stony ramp. The monstrous armadillo, caught mid-roll, shoots up the incline at terrifying speed, launched into the air like a cannonball directly toward the Plumivorax.
The elegant avian tyrant's eyes glint with deadly intelligence. It pivots with inhuman grace, its magnificent tail-fan spreading wide. The jewelled feathers aren't just for display; they are honed blades. With a motion as swift and beautiful as it is brutal, the Plumivorax slices through the Gravadilo. The stone-plated beast is cleaved neatly in two, its halves crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.
"Tylon! Support Julie and Sylphy! Now!" Amazel commands, already turning her attention to the next crisis.
The burly warrior breaks away, charging the Terrasnake with a guttural roar. He feigns a powerful overhead swing with his hammer, then pivots into a devastating horizontal blow aimed at its eyes. The snake recoils with surprising speed, then strikes back like a thunderbolt, its fanged maw snapping shut on Tylon's outstretched arm. Metal and leather groan as Tylon roars in pain, muscles straining as he physically holds the monstrous jaws apart, blood streaming from where needle-like teeth pierce his gauntlet.
It is the opening Julie needs. In a flash, she vaults onto the beast's snout and pours every vial of venom and paralytic poison she carries directly into its gaping throat. Tylon shoves backwards, breaking free as the Terrasnake recoils, thrashing in agony as the potent toxins sear its insides.
"Sylphy, NOW!" Julie yells.
'Aether Press!' Sylphy incants, her wand flaring with emerald light. The very air around the Terrasnake thickens, condensing into an invisible vice of immense atmospheric pressure. The beast's thrashing slows, crushed by the unbearable weight. Between the poison and the pressure, its monumental struggles grow weaker until finally it lies still.
"You two, help Gobuka!" Julie orders Tylon and Sylphy, already sprinting toward Elfir's position. "I'll handle the fox!"
Elfir is on his last reserves, his robes shredded, blood dripping from a dozen scratches. A sustained torrent of fire roars from his wand-tip, met and matched by the Vulpyre's own infernal blaze in a blinding, heat-hazed standoff. He never sees Julie coming. Silent as a shadow, she flanks the Vulpyre, and with one precise, ruthless slash, severs its head.
The sudden silence is deafening. Elfir stumbles forward, his fire sputtering out. He whirls on Julie, wand rising, his face contorted in furious betrayal. "JULIE! That was my—"
"Snap out of it, Elfir!" she snaps, her voice cold and sharp, not even looking at him as her eyes scan the ongoing carnage. "We don't have time for your pride. Look around you!"
Elfir's gaze sweeps across the battlefield—past the injured soldiers crying out, past the corpses of comrades and monsters lying tangled in the mud. The anger drains from his face, replaced by shame. He closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. "Sorry."
"Hmm…Let's end this," she says, already moving to aid the combined assault on the Plumivorax.
The five commanders fight as one. Sylphy's 'Aether Press' slows the creature's dazzling movements. Elfir's 'Crimson Flare' scorches its brilliant plumage. Tylon's hammer, Julie's daggers, and Gobuka's sword harry it from all sides. Yet, even wounded, it is a whirlwind of death, its bladed feathers deflecting and parrying, holding the entire army at bay.
Seeing the stalemate, Amazel raises her staff high. 'Glaciate Lance!'
Six shards of glacial ice, sharper than steel, materialise and shoot toward the Plumivorax. With breathtaking elegance, it deflects two with its wings and dodges a third. But its injuries finally tell. It is a fraction too slow. The remaining three lances find their mark, piercing its chest with a sound like shattering crystal.
"Aaawwk!!!"
With a final, dying cry, the jungle tyrant falls, its beautiful plumage scattering like forgotten jewels across the mud.
Silence descends, heavy and thick. Forty-one soldiers are dead. Twenty-three more are grievously wounded. The cost is written in the grim, bloodied faces of the survivors. Amazel's jaw is clenched so tight it aches, her fists trembling with a rage she dares not unleash. She takes a deep, steadying breath, burying her fury beneath the mantle of command.
"Everyone," her voice, though quieter now, carries across the field with unwavering strength. "Take a moment. Honour their sacrifice. Remember their names."
A profound silence falls as every soldier, weary and wounded, stands with heads bowed and eyes closed, paying tribute to the fallen.
"Now, gather our heroes," Amazel orders, her tone shifting to pragmatic urgency. "Be swift. The scent of blood will draw more than just flies."
As soldiers begin moving, Julie approaches, her voice a low whisper only for Amazel. "General, carrying the dead will slow us to a crawl. The risk of plague… it could decrease our numbers more surely than any monster."
"I am aware of the risks, Julie," Amazel replies, her eyes scanning the treeline. "I have a plan. For now, your priority is to scout. The one who laid that lure is still out there. Find them."
Hours later, deep in a new, more defensible position, the exhausted army tries to rest. The scent of soup from the campaign kitchen is a small comfort. Amazel stares into her bowl, her mind replaying the day's horrors, seeing the faces of the dead in the steam.
Then a scent, faint and cloying beneath the herbs, triggers a memory—a captured assassin's blade, tipped with a poison known as "Widow's Kiss" for its delayed, lethal effect.
Her reaction is instantaneous. She flings her bowl to the ground. "Do not drink the soup!" she roars, her voice lashing across the camp. "Those who have eaten, do not induce vomiting! Do not eat or drink anything else! Report to the healers immediately!"
She locks eyes with each of her commanders. "The soup is poisoned. Secure your units. Provide only clean water. Amar, your unit is with me. We detoxify this now."
What follows is a controlled frenzy of healing magic. Due to Amazel's swift action, a catastrophe is averted. She then marches to the kitchen tent, where the cook is already on his knees, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face.
"General… I swear on my life, I would never… not even in my darkest nightmare…"
Amazel doesn't let him finish. She places a firm hand on his shoulder. "I know it wasn't you. Your loyalty is beyond question. You are the backbone of this army. Without your food, we cannot fight." Her words steady him, the panic in his eyes receding.
She turns to Julie, her expression grim. "This is the work of our hidden enemy. They may have infiltrated us. Julie, this matter is yours. Find the viper in our midst. Quietly."