The battlefield had grown quiet, too quiet. The only sound was the distant crackle of fires where torches burned along the ramparts. Soldiers clutched their spears and blades tighter, knuckles white, hearts pounding in their chests as the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Dust sifted down from the walls, stones rattling in their foundations. Something vast was moving in the forest beyond the barricades.
A low bellow rolled through the night air like thunder from the earth itself. Every man on the line felt it in his bones, a primal sound that reached deeper than hearing and awakened old instincts of prey before predator. Men muttered prayers. Some swallowed hard, others fought the urge to run.
Then it came into view.
The treeline split apart, branches breaking like brittle straw as something massive pushed through. First came the tusks — curved, jagged things longer than a man was tall, glinting pale in the moonlight like carved ivory but streaked with dried gore. Then the head, heavy and brutish, armored with bony plates that gleamed like iron. Finally, its body lumbered forth — a living wall of muscle wrapped in scars, its hide thick as stone, its legs like pillars that cracked the earth with each step. Its breath steamed in the night air, carrying the copper stink of blood.
A tusked beast lord.
The ranks shivered. A beast lord was a calamity, a force no single warrior should face alone. It ruled lesser beasts, commanded with instinctive authority. And now it stood before them, eyes burning with primitive hatred, tusks gouging trenches as it lowered its head to charge.
But before panic could break the line, a single figure stepped forward.
Zed.
He moved with a calm certainty that silenced whispers and stilled trembling hands. His Shadow Staff spun once in his grip, its weight flowing into place like an extension of his body. His cloak was torn and stained from earlier battles, but his stance was unshaken, his steps light as shadow across the blood-soaked earth. The moonlight caught on his eyes — sharp, unyielding, honed by battles none of these men could imagine.
Behind him, the ground rippled, and with a shimmer of unnatural air his summon materialized.
The Vampire emerged from shadow itself, tall and regal, pale skin flawless, crimson eyes burning with an intelligence too sharp to be beast alone. Its fangs gleamed as it hissed low, claws flexing, its form pulsing with vitality. Whispers rippled through the soldiers at the sight — this was no rotting corpse, no shambling husk. This was a predator. Alive. Intelligent. Terrifying.
The tusked beast lord roared, a sound like mountains colliding, and charged.
The earth quaked beneath its weight. Spears braced along the barricade shook in men's hands. Dust exploded upward as the monster barreled forward, tusks lowered to impale, muscles bunching with unstoppable force.
Zed didn't flinch.
At the last heartbeat, he vanished. Shadow coiled around him, and he slid to the side with Shadowfoot, reappearing a breath away from the tusks that tore a crater where he had stood. His staff cracked down like lightning, striking against the thick hide of the beast's neck. The impact echoed, a boom of wood reinforced by qi, driving deep enough to stagger the colossus but not pierce its armor.
The Vampire was already moving. It surged low, claws raking across the beast's flank, fangs sinking deep. Blood sprayed, steaming hot and foul. The beast screamed and kicked, sending the Vampire flying into a stone wall — but it only laughed, body splitting into a swarm of bats that reformed midair, red eyes glowing in the dark.
Gasps rippled through the soldiers.
The battle raged. The tusked beast lord swung its head, tusks smashing into walls, scattering stones like pebbles. Zed leapt over a sweeping strike, staff spinning, slamming into a joint behind the beast's shoulder. Bone cracked. The monster bellowed and twisted, trying to gore him. He rolled across its back, shadows trailing like smoke, before stabbing Void Fangs into the creature's hide. Black light exploded, searing a hole deep into flesh.
The beast stumbled. Blood poured in rivers.
Still it did not fall.
It spun, tusks smashing through the barricade. Soldiers scattered, diving aside as the wall caved inward. Men shouted, terrified, but their eyes never left the boy dancing on the monster's back, staff and shadow working in perfect rhythm.
The Vampire struck again, diving for the beast's throat. Tusks slammed into it midair, shattering bone, ripping its torso apart. Soldiers cried out — but the Vampire only screamed in fury, its body knitting back together in seconds, flesh reweaving, bones snapping into place. It lunged again, tearing chunks from the beast's throat, clinging like a wolf to prey.
The men's fear turned to awe.
Zed pressed the assault, his strikes relentless. Staff shattered ribs, shadow swallowed strikes, Void Fangs carved through hide. Every move was calculated, every strike honed by countless unseen battles in the depths of the forest. He fought like a man who had stood against monsters before and learned to kill them, not fear them.
The tusked beast roared, bleeding, staggering, but it was still strong. Its tusks swept upward, catching Zed mid-leap. Pain exploded through him as he was thrown across the ground, his ribs cracking on impact. The soldiers cried out, hearts seizing, certain he was broken.
But he rose.
Blood dripped from his mouth, his arm hung twisted, yet his eyes blazed. He spun his staff once, setting it against the ground, and charged again.
The Vampire mirrored him. Together, man and summon struck as one.
The beast lowered its tusks for a final charge. Earth tore open beneath its fury.
Zed ran straight into it.
At the last breath, he vanished again, shadow swallowing him, reappearing between its tusks. His staff drove forward with every shred of qi he could muster, slamming straight through its eye. The Vampire leapt at the same heartbeat, fangs tearing into its exposed throat, claws ripping the last strength from its body.
The tusked beast lord screamed one final time, shaking the night with fury, then collapsed, earth splitting beneath its fall.
Silence.
The battlefield froze. Smoke rose, dust hung in the air. Men stared at the fallen giant, breathless, hearts hammering.
And there, standing blood-soaked atop its corpse, staff dripping crimson, the Vampire at his side like death incarnate, was Zed.
The silence broke into cheers.
Soldiers roared, voices raw, weapons raised to the sky. Elders who once doubted him stared wide-eyed, no words on their lips. The men's fear was gone, replaced by blazing admiration, pride, and something deeper — trust.
This boy, this young master, had stood alone before a Lord Beast and felled it with his own hands.
Zed said nothing. He only stood upon the corpse, breathing hard, blood dripping from his wounds, shadows curling faintly around him. His eyes swept the battlefield, calm and sharp. His Vampire hissed beside him, crimson gaze scanning the men like a judge of worth.
No boast was needed. His actions had carved the truth into their bones.
The young master of the Latian clan was no longer just a name. He was the shield, the spear, the hope of his people.
And on that night, beneath the broken walls and the blood-soaked earth, the clan rallied not to their banner alone — but to him.