The night came alive with screams.
Torches flared against the black sky, their flickering light dancing across thatched roofs as raiders swarmed into the village. Their war cries shook the earth, the clash of steel rang through the air, and the smell of burning wood filled Kael's lungs.
"Move!" Farkas's booming voice cut above the chaos as he rushed forward, shield raised. His massive frame slammed into a raider, sending the man sprawling before his sword drove deep.
Vilkas wasn't far behind, his blade flashing with ruthless precision. Where his brother was brute force, Vilkas was calculation—every strike a killing blow, every movement measured.
Aela, already crouched low with her bow, releasing an arrow that whistled past Kael's ear before finding its mark in a raider's throat.
Kael, gripping his steel sword with clammy hands, swallowed hard. This wasn't training. This wasn't a duel. This was war, messy and brutal, and the System's cold interface flickered in the corner of his sight:
[Active Quest: Defend the Village. Kill Hostile Raiders. Survive.]
His pulse hammered. Survive. That was all he needed to do.
"Kael!" Elara's voice snapped him back. She stood a few paces behind him, robes half-scorched from the torch she'd just blasted out of a raider's hand with a weak but effective firebolt. Her eyes widened, trembling between fear and determination. "They're coming from the left!"
Kael turned just in time to see three raiders rushing in with axes raised.
He braced himself then he lunged.
Steel met steel in a jarring clang, his arm rattling with the impact. The raider snarled, pressing down, but Kael's grip tightened. His blade slid aside, and he twisted, driving his shoulder into the man's chest before slashing upward. Blood sprayed hot across his arm.
The System chimed in his mind:
[Enemy Defeated: +50 XP]
Another came from the side. Kael barely raised his sword in time, the blow glancing off his guard. His arms shook, his stance wavered but then, instinct surged. His muscles seemed to know what his mind didn't, his reflexes sharper were faster like he was built for battle.
The man swung again, and Kael ducked low, slashing across the raider's thigh. The man screamed, collapsing, and Kael finished it with a trembling thrust.
[Enemy Defeated: +50 XP]
The last raider hesitated, watching his two comrades fall to this young warrior who shouldn't have stood a chance. Kael's eyes burned in the firelight, breath ragged, sword dripping red. He stepped forward, the hesitation fading. His strike was clumsy, but fueled with desperate strength. Steel bit through bone.
The man crumpled.
Kael stood there, chest heaving, hands shaking. His sword felt heavier than stone.
Behind him, Elara's voice was softer, almost awed. "You… you're not just some mercenary."
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His body was screaming, torn between exhaustion and the wild rush of adrenaline... at least that was what he decided to call this insatiable blood-lust that fueled him.
"Don't stop now!" Aela barked from the rooftops, loosing arrow after arrow. "The bastards are regrouping!"
And she was right. Across the village square, more raiders were pouring in. Dozens of them.
Farkas and Vilkas charged, cutting through men like wolves in a sheepfold. Their fury was unmatched, but even they couldn't hold off this many forever.
Kael's hand tightened around his sword again.
[HP: 65/100]
[Fatigue: 65%]
[New Objective: Hold the Line]
He grit his teeth. His heart pounded like a drum in his ears. He was tired. He was terrified.
"Elara!" he shouted, glancing back. She looked shaken, her fire flickering faintly in her palms. "Stay behind me. Cast when you can. Don't overdo it!"
Her lips parted, as though she wanted to argue—but then she nodded. "Fine. Just don't die in front of me, Kael."
The words carried a strange weight, and he almost smirked. Almost.
The next wave hit.
Kael fought with desperation. A raider's axe grazed his arm, another cracked against his shield hard enough to send him stumbling. But he held his ground.
And whenever he faltered, Elara was there.
She sent a charged blast of fire aimed a raider's head, staggering him long enough for Kael to finish him. A barrier of crackling light flickered to life just as a blade might have cut into his side. She wasn't a battle mage, not yet, but her presence kept him alive.
Yeah, I'm not arguing anymore. I need me some magic.
Together, awkward and uncoordinated as they were, they survived.
The square was littered with bodies by the time Kael staggered back, blood-smeared and gasping. His vision blurred, his sword arm felt numb, and yet he was still standing.
The Companions regrouped, Farkas and Vilkas still drenched in gore, Aela's quiver nearly empty, she was now gripping a knife. "More are coming," Aela warned, her sharp eyes catching torchlight at the far end of the village.
"Damn it," Vilkas hissed.
Kael wiped blood from his cheek, raising his sword again though his hand shook. The villagers were huddled behind them, clutching children, staring with wide, desperate eyes.
He couldn't let them down. Not now.
"Elara," he muttered, not taking his eyes off the approaching figures. "Stay close. We're not done yet."
The torches drew nearer. Shadows stretched long across the ground. Another wave of raiders, bigger than before, closed in.
The Companions readied themselves.
And then, from the darkness, a howl split the night.
Low. Guttural and most definitely wrong.
It wasn't a raider. It wasn't human.
A wolf? Couldn't be too sure.
The Companions froze, their eyes narrowing.
Aela muttered, "That wasn't them…"
Kael felt his blood run cold. The villagers whimpered behind them taking two steps backwards.
The raiders hesitated at the sound too—but then surged forward, screaming to drown it out.
The Companions charged to meet them, throwing themselves into another round of what seemed like an endless wave of raiders.