Morning broke over the fractured plains with a pale, cold light. The air smelled of smoke already, not from battle, but from the lingering scars of the week's intensity. Sylas adjusted the collar of his coat and scanned the horizon, his eyes locking on the faint wavering light of the barrier line where the joint operation was ongoing.
They began abruptly after the first hour, focusing on breaking through the mindless monsters' barrier before anything else. The night before, Sylas had spoken with the stationed officers, carefully listening as they outlined their plans. Now, he was moving with precision, each decision shaped by what he had deduced from their strategy.
His party moved quietly, each step deliberate, boots crunching on the frost-brittle grass. Lynx walked ahead, his movements silent and precise, the hood of her dark cloak casting her eyes into shadow. Irbis kept to Sylas's right, his rifle slung casually yet ready, every step betraying the discipline of a soldier who'd been in too many battlefields to count.
While the hunter joint operation team advanced toward the suspected location of the Kaiju, Sylas, Lynx, and Irbis had already finished clearing the monster caves and dens along the downhill slopes.
"Focusing only on the Kaiju will get them killed," Sylas muttered, brushing dust from his gauntlet. "They could have been cutting down these numbers for days."
Irbis smirked at the remark, his eyes sharp. Lynx, on the other hand, wore the expression of someone still piecing the bigger picture together.
"Oi, Lynx," Irbis barked, "don't get sloppy. We're not doing this for them. It's for our own good. The fewer monsters out here, the better our surveillance holds."
"Roger, Major," Lynx replied crisply, snapping back to focus.
By mid-morning, they had settled into their vantage point — a rocky ridge overlooking the valley where the main hunter formed up before their raid. From here, Sylas could see the colorful scatter of party banners fluttering in the cold wind, squads moving like ants toward the front.
"Clock's ticking," Major muttered, raising his scope.
"We're here to watch, not interfere," Sylas reminded him.
"For now," Lynx added, his tone carrying an unspoken possibility.
Ryze and Alisa arrived a few minutes later, their boots crunching over loose gravel. Luna and Shin remained back at camp, ready to mobilize at a moment's notice.
"There's still no sight or sign of the Kaiju," Ryze reported, catching his breath. "The monsters are still making pointless movements. All parties are just warming up on low-level targets, no heavy clashes yet. Everyone's in full control."
Sylas frowned, his mind running through every possible scenario. If the Kaiju never appeared, their entire plan would collapse before it began. He hated uncertainty more than danger.
Then the ground trembled. A guttural, bone-shaking roar ripped through the air.
Sylas didn't have to say a word—Ryze and Alisa were already in motion, sprinting toward their positions like arrows loosed from a bow. While they were chatting the kaiju had finished its prep.
The first clash came just as Alisa and Ryze reached the cliff side. It was noon, the sound of war rolled across the valley — the sharp bark of rifles, the resonant boom of magic detonations, the metallic howl of monsters. Alisa's eyes locked on the center of the chaos.
There it was. The monster towered above the battlefield like a walking nightmare — a kaiju in every sense of the word. Chitinous armor glistened under the winter sun, jagged plates shifting with every movement. Its six burning eyes swept the field with cold intelligence, directing swarms of smaller beasts like an orchestra conductor.
"Still controlling the mobs," Ryze said, voice tight. "We were right — as long as it's calm, it's in control."
Alisa didn't answer. Her jaw tightened.
Sylas broke into a brisk pace, heading back toward camp where Shin and Luna were making their final preparations. He left Irbis and Lynx behind to mop up any stragglers. The Kaiju was cunning—too cunning. If it slipped away before sundown, everything they'd built toward would crumble. The plan relied on time, on letting the monster's own fury chip away at its control.
Irbis and Lynx couldn't believe what was happening.
"Sylas was right," Irbis muttered. "This Kaiju's no brute, it's calculating. It can feel every presence in these ranges. These monsters aren't random, they're being sent."
Lynx frowned, scanning the tide of creatures swarming the slopes. "But we just cleared these dens to reduce distractions…" His voice trailed off, disbelief plain on his face. Even Irbis felt the weight of the absurdity. The numbers were staggering, too many for a mere diversion. The main battlefield should have been their focus, yet here they were, spilling blood in a secondary front.
Meanwhile, at the main point above the chaos, Alisa and Ryze tracked the worsening state of the alliance lines. What had started as steady, manageable skirmishes was now buckling under sudden, coordinated assaults. The swelling monster ranks turned every advance into a slog, and the parties that had been so confident hours ago were beginning to fracture.
The hours passed. Hunters fell, some dragged screaming into the swarm, others simply swallowed by the monster's shadow. But the line held. The valley became a killing ground — explosions ripping into the swarms, beasts tearing into men, spells flashing bright enough to sear the eyes.
By early afternoon, Sylas had expected the signal for retreat. That was how these joint operations went — push hard, inflict as much damage as possible, then fall back before the monster's retaliation became overwhelming. Alisa and Ryze's report confirmed the fall of the operation. Sylas was expecting the signal of a retreat. He was already at the vantage point. He was at first surprised to see that so many monsters were sent for them. But Lynx and Irbis handled them well. Still some were coming at them, just to be slashed in a second.
The hunters were already low on spirit. He expected the retreat. But the signal never came. Even with the sun beginning its slow arc toward the mountains, the hunters kept fighting.
"They're still pushing," Luna said, disbelieving in her tone.
"They should've pulled out an hour ago," Major muttered.
"They're not giving up," Shin added quietly, almost in awe.
Sylas watched the battlefield, the chaos reflecting in his steel-grey eyes. Something was wrong. This wasn't just bravery, it was desperation, the kind that burns through reason and feeds on stubborn pride. Lines that should have bent and regrouped instead stood rigid, refusing to yield even as bodies fell in the mud. Every swing of a blade seemed fueled not by survival, but by a grim acceptance of the inevitable.
Then it hit him. They had already sold themselves for the victory. Whether by oath, duty, or the madness of honor, they had decided they would not leave this field alive. Every man and woman out there was ready to carve their names into history with blood, ready to let this battlefield be their grave. They weren't fighting for the next day—they were fighting to make sure there was no next day for the Kaiju. And in that moment, Sylas felt the weight of a choice pressing on him like a blade at his throat.
As the sun dipped lower, the kaiju roared — a sound so deep it seemed to rattle the bones. Its movements became faster, more erratic. The chittering of the swarm changed pitch, high and discordant.
"It's happening," Irbis whispered.
Sylas could see it — the control slipping. The monster lashed out with brutal swipes, smashing both hunter and beast aside in the same motion. The smaller monsters began scattering, some turning on each other. The battlefield descended into a chaos that even seasoned hunters struggled to navigate.
Sylas thought the Kaiju would be fatigued or at least a bit injured. But that wasn't the case. It didn't confront the parties head to head. But as the parties had already crumbled and the monsters were also not in its full control, the Kaiju decided to step in.
"Your call, Sylas. Most of the things didn't go according to our plan," Major said, his voice like tempered steel. "But look at them—these people are ready to burn their lives here for a better future. What better way to write our epitaph? This is our moment."
Sylas's gaze didn't leave the battlefield, his jaw set. "Not yet," he said, his tone low but unshakable. "When the right time comes… we'll strike. Not before."
The Major's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. The sun was out of sight. The darkness succumbed, spilling a deep crimson across the torn earth, painting every fallen body in the same blood-red hue. The roar of the Kaiju rolled through the valley like a death knell, and Sylas felt it—the moment drawing near.
In the shadows beyond the battlefield, his team moved into position, silent as the grave. When the last light bled from the sky, they would descend upon the monster with the precision of executioners. The night would hide their approach, but not the fury they carried.
By the time the first stars appeared, the valley was lit only by the scattered fires of broken siege engines and the glowing runes of exhausted mages. Hunters moved like ghosts among the wreckage, their armor streaked with blood and ash.
Sylas's heart pounded. His mind raced through the plan — approach under cover of darkness, slip past the scattered mobs, strike at the kaiju's blind spot when its attacking would make it careless. They could leave. Right now, they could vanish into the night and no one would fault them. The operation was technically a failure for them.
But his gut told him this was it. Their perfect opening.
He looked at each of them in turn. Ryze and Alisa who were behind the vantage point were first to move. Sylas told them to distract the other parties and create confusion for not only the kaiju but also for the hunters present there. Their first attack must be in a manner where the battlefield needs to be still.
Luna was ordered to quickly move near the injured. Shin and Lynx would back her up. Irbis would cover Sylas as he will give the first blow.
"Counting on you major," Sylas told Irbis as they both laughed, ignoring the tension among the group.
This Mission, a lifetime opportunity, It's now or never, Sylas thought as the group vanished to darkness.