The valley was broken.
For days it had echoed with the clash of steel, the roar of beasts, and the cries of dying men. What had once been rolling greenland had become a scar of mud, ash, and blood. Grass was gone, burned to black stubble. Trees stood like skeletal hands, their bark charred, branches snapped. The river that cut through the valley now ran dark, its water choked with corpses, the current sluggish beneath the weight of death.
The stench was unbearable. Blood turned sour in the heat, mixing with smoke, sweat, and the sweet rot of torn entrails. It coated the tongue, thick and metallic. Ash drifted constantly, a gray snow that settled into hair, onto armor, onto the open eyes of the fallen.
And through it all, the Latian Clan still stood.
Their warriors were gathered on the slope of a low rise, shields overlapped, spears thrust outward. They were not fresh men—they were battered, dirt-caked, blood-soaked, their faces hollow with exhaustion. Armor hung in tatters, chain split, leather straps frayed. Their boots were mired in black mud that sucked at every step. But their backs were straight, and their eyes were hard.
At their head stood Zed Latian.
His cloak had been torn to ribbons long ago, burned at the hem and blackened with ash. His chest plate bore dents from claws and arrows, his gauntlets were scored with scratches where steel had barely held. Blood streaked his arms and face, some his own, most not. His Shadow Staff was gripped tightly in one hand, its black surface shimmering faintly as if the night itself coiled along its length. His crimson eyes cut forward, unwavering, locked on the dark shape moving through the smoke.
The Beast King had arrived.
It loomed above the haze, a hulking mass of fur and scale. Its body was shaped like a wolf's but swollen to monstrous proportions, its shoulders higher than the tallest trees. Muscles rippled beneath a hide armored in plates of dull iron-gray. Its maw yawned wide, teeth long as swords dripping with saliva that hissed where it struck the earth. A ridge of bone spikes ran down its back, and its tail lashed behind it like a whip, gouging trenches in the mud.
Its eyes glowed molten gold. They swept the battlefield slowly, and men quailed beneath that gaze. The sheer aura of it pressed down like the weight of a mountain. Weaker soldiers' knees buckled. Horses panicked, screaming, rearing until their riders dragged them down. Even the lesser beasts still alive from the tide whimpered, ears pinned flat, and slunk back into the smoke.
Then the King roared.
The sound shook the valley. Trees shivered. Stones cracked. Armor rattled on men's backs. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the force, slamming into lungs and rattling bones. It was not just a roar—it was a proclamation. This was its forest. This was its kingdom. All who stood before it were prey.
The line of Latian warriors trembled. But they did not break.
"Hold!" Elder Raem bellowed. His voice was ragged, raw from days of shouting, but it carried. "Spears out! Shields tight!"
Wood slammed against wood as shields locked. Spears bristled, their points a forest of steel. Archers in the rear raised their bows, arms shaking but strings drawn tight. They aimed not for glory, but survival.
Beside Zed, his summon crouched low. Pale skin gleamed beneath streaks of gore, black claws curling, red eyes burning in the gloom. Blood-mist curled from its body, heavy and metallic, seeping into the air until it stung the nose. It growled low, a rumble that vibrated in its chest, and fangs long as daggers caught the dim firelight.
The Beast King lowered its head. Its claws dug furrows into the mud. Its shoulders rolled like boulders shifting.
It charged.
The ground shook.
The impact was like thunder. The first line of shields crumpled beneath the blow. Men flew backward, shields splintering, bones snapping. Spears jabbed, their tips glancing off scales with sparks, some sinking shallow into joints, others snapping in half against bone. Arrows hissed overhead, striking in a rain. A few buried themselves in softer flesh at the base of the King's throat, drawing black ichor. It roared again, shaking them free, blood spattering across the field like rain.
"Push! Hold the line!" Raem screamed.
Boots slid in mud, but men braced shoulders and shoved back. The wall reformed. New shields filled the gaps where comrades had fallen. The second rank thrust over the first, jabbing at the beast's snout, its eyes, its chest. The King swiped with one massive paw. Three men vanished beneath it, crushed to pulp, their blood spraying high in a crimson arc.
Zed moved.
His staff whirled, black light trailing. He darted forward with Shadowfoot, body blurring across churned mud, and slammed the staff into the side of the beast's paw just as it descended. The blow rang like metal on metal, the force jarring his bones, but it knocked the claw aside. A soldier screamed as talons ripped his shoulder instead of his skull—badly hurt, but alive.
"Right flank, forward!" Zed roared. His voice cut sharp, a commander's voice.
Men obeyed instantly. Shields pressed closer, spears stabbing higher, forcing the beast to twist back. Arrows hissed again, slamming into the exposed flesh beneath its jaw. The beast snarled, snapping its head down. Its teeth closed on two men at once, armor crunching like tin beneath its bite. Blood poured down its fangs as it shook them like toys and hurled their bodies aside.
Still, the line held.
Zed ducked under another swipe, rolling through the mud. His staff snapped upward, cracking against the beast's foreleg. Black light exploded, burning into scale, forcing the limb back a step. His summon lunged beside him, claws slashing deep across the beast's thigh. Flesh split, ichor pouring hot and thick. The beast snarled, tail whipping. The Vampire was hurled backward, smashing through three dead trees before it landed in a crouch, growling.
The King raised its head. Its golden eyes locked on Zed.
It roared.
The sound was like a storm breaking. Men clapped hands over ears, some collapsing. Zed's chest rattled with the force. His teeth clenched. He stood anyway, blood trickling from one ear.
The Beast King surged forward, both paws crashing down.
The paws fell like hammers.
Earth split beneath them, mud and stone spraying high. Shields shattered, men were driven into the ground with sickening cracks. Screams rose, sharp and ragged, before being swallowed by the roar of battle. The Beast King pulled its claws free, dragging bodies with them, limp and broken, then hurled them aside with a shake.
"Reform! Don't break!" Elder Raem's voice cut like a whip, though his face was pale, lips trembling beneath his beard. His spear thrust again, stabbing deep into the joint of a claw. Black ichor sprayed across him, burning where it touched skin, but he didn't flinch. He twisted the spear and ripped it free, drawing another gout of blood.
The Beast King snarled and snapped at him. Raem barely ducked. Teeth like sabers slammed shut where his head had been. A shockwave of hot breath and spit struck him, nearly knocking him flat.
Zed was already there.
His staff came down like a hammer, black light bursting. It struck the beast's jaw with a resounding crack, snapping its head sideways. Spittle and blood sprayed. The Vampire lunged from the flank, leaping onto the beast's leg. Claws sank deep, gouging furrows of torn flesh. It ripped and slashed, snarling, red eyes blazing.
The Beast King bucked. Its tail lashed. The Vampire was whipped away again, crashing into the shield wall with a sound of splintering wood. Warriors staggered, barely holding their ground as the pale monster sprang back up, crouched low, mist spilling thick around its limbs.
The King pressed forward.
Its head crashed into the shield line like a boulder rolling downhill. Shields buckled, men staggered, but they held, heels digging into the sucking mud. Spears jabbed into its snout, some snapping, some lodging deep. The beast howled, tossing its head, spraying blood and broken weapons.
Then, suddenly, a new sound.
A deep hum, low and resonant.
Light flared on the ridge.
Two figures appeared, descending slowly through the haze. Their auras pressed heavy across the field, so dense it made lesser beasts collapse whimpering where they stood. Even Latian warriors gasped, their spines bowing under the sudden weight.
Old cultivators.
Recluses from the outer valleys, drawn by the roar of a King and the scent of catastrophe.
The first was a gaunt man with white hair tied high, his robe of faded blue patched but clean, staff taller than he was gripped in knotted hands. His eyes burned sharp, the pupils pale with age but unclouded. With every step, the grass at his feet bent low as though bowing.
The second was heavier, a broad-shouldered woman clad in armor blackened with age, dented but whole. Her hair was iron gray, braided down her back, and her weapon was a halberd that gleamed with faint runes. Her gaze was steady, her jaw tight.
"Clan Latian," the old man rasped, his voice like dry leaves. "We thought you gone. But still you stand."
Raem straightened despite the blood slicking his beard. "We stand until the last, Elder."
The armored woman leveled her halberd toward the Beast King. "Then we'll stand with you."
The warriors roared, a cheer torn from tired throats. The sound was ragged, desperate, but it burned like fire in their chests.
The Beast King turned its head slowly toward the newcomers. Golden eyes narrowed. Its lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth dripping, and it stamped once. The ground trembled. Lesser beasts that had cowered surged forward at the command, hundreds of them, pouring from the treeline in a dark wave. Wolves, boars, twisted deer with antlers like knives—they screamed and rushed the line.
"Archers!" Zed barked.
Bows twanged. Arrows rained. Dozens of beasts fell, squealing, thrashing. But more came, bounding over their corpses, jaws wide.
The old man raised his staff. Symbols flared along the wood, glowing faint white. He slammed it down. The earth itself buckled. Spears of stone erupted from the ground, impaling beasts mid-charge, skewering them with wet cracks. Blood fountained high, painting the air red.
The armored woman swung her halberd in a great arc. A wave of pale energy burst from its blade, slicing through a line of wolves like wheat. Bodies fell in heaps, severed clean. She planted her feet, halberd glowing, and shouted, "Hold your ground! The King is mine!"
The Beast King bellowed in reply, charging her.
The clash was titanic. Claws met steel with a sound like mountains grinding. Sparks burst, dirt exploded. The woman slid back, boots gouging trenches, but she did not fall. Her halberd blazed, runes screaming, as she shoved the claw aside. The King's head snapped down, teeth closing. She twisted away, the bite snapping shut an arm's length from her ribs, and drove her halberd into its chest. Blood gushed black, steaming hot, splattering her face.
She roared in return.
Zed seized the moment. "Forward! With me!"
The warriors surged. Spears jabbed at the exposed wound, arrows slammed into the beast's side. The Vampire leapt again, claws burying into the torn flesh around the halberd's wound, ripping deeper. The beast shrieked, throwing itself sideways, rolling, crushing men beneath its bulk. Bones cracked, screams cut short.
Mud flew. Blood spattered. The battlefield dissolved into chaos again.
Zed darted forward, Shadowfoot carrying him in a blur. He drove his staff into the beast's eye. The orb burst with a wet pop, black blood pouring down its face. The King shrieked, thrashing, tail whipping. Zed barely ducked, the tail smashing into three men behind him, hurling them through the air like broken dolls.
The King slammed its paw down.
Zed's staff crossed to block. The impact crushed him to his knees. Mud splashed high, ribs screamed with pain, arms shook. The paw pressed harder, claws curling.
"Zed!"
Raem's voice, ragged. Then the old man's staff struck the ground again. Chains of stone shot upward, wrapping the beast's arm, holding it just long enough.
Zed roared, muscles burning, and twisted his staff. Black light exploded. The paw was hurled sideways, ripping free of the chains, but the weight lifted from him. He staggered upright, chest heaving.
The Beast King's single golden eye burned with fury.
It had noticed him.
The Beast King shook its massive head, blood streaming from its ruined eye, staining the mud beneath it black. Its roar tore through the valley once more, shaking men to their very bones.
Then it lunged.
Its massive paw slammed downward again, not at the shield line, not at the cultivators—but directly at Zed.
The air itself howled with the force of the strike.
Zed darted sideways, Shadowfoot flashing, his boots sliding across wet mud. The paw slammed where he'd been a heartbeat before, earth splitting in a crater. The shockwave hurled him off his feet anyway, sending him tumbling across the muck. He rolled, staff digging into the soil to stop himself, lungs heaving, ribs aching where the force had rattled him.
The King's golden eye tracked him, ignoring the spears biting into its flank, the arrows slamming into its back. It saw only him.
"Zed! Fall back!" Raem shouted, voice hoarse.
But Zed didn't fall back. His crimson eyes locked with that burning gold, and his grip on his staff tightened until his knuckles blanched white.
If I retreat, they'll break. If I fall, the line falls.
The King surged toward him.
The old armored woman intercepted, halberd sweeping in a blazing arc. Steel screeched against scale, sparks bursting. The blow carved a shallow line across the beast's snout, drawing another gush of ichor. The King howled, head whipping sideways, and its shoulder smashed into her full force.
The sound of impact was thunder.
She flew backward, armor screeching, and slammed into the ground hard enough to crater it. Her halberd skittered across the mud. She spat blood, struggling to rise, but her legs trembled.
The gaunt old man raised his staff again, muttering sharp words through cracked lips. Pillars of stone burst from the earth, slamming into the King's ribs, pinning it between jagged spires. The beast snarled, muscles bulging, blood streaming from wounds across its chest and leg. For a moment, the battlefield paused—hope flickering in tired hearts.
Then the King roared.
Its muscles swelled. The stone cracked, groaned, then shattered in a spray of rubble. The beast hurled itself forward with renewed fury, its claws sweeping in an arc that tore through men like paper. Five were ripped apart in one blow, bodies spinning through the air, blood spraying. Their screams cut short.
The line wavered.
Fear rolled through the men like a tide. Eyes went wide, grips loosened, steps faltered. For the first time, the formation trembled on the edge of breaking.
Zed saw it. He felt it.
If they broke now, everything would collapse. The Beast Tide would spill through the valley, through the villages, through the heartlands. His clan would burn.
His heart pounded like a drum. He slammed the butt of his staff into the mud, voice ripping from his chest with every shred of strength left in him.
"Hold! You are Latians! Do not yield!"
The shout cut through the roar, the screams, the chaos. Dozens of eyes snapped toward him—bloodshot, hollow, but listening. He stood tall, ash and blood streaking his face, crimson eyes blazing like fire. His Vampire crouched at his side again, mist curling thick, claws dripping gore.
"If you fall, your brothers fall with you. If you hold, we all hold! Raise your shields! Stand with me!"
The line stiffened. Spears lifted once more. Shields pressed close. The men roared in answer, not strong, not triumphant—but defiant.
The King snarled and stamped, crushing another body beneath its claws. Its gaze burned hotter.
And then it charged again.
The clash was worse than before.
The beast slammed headlong into the wall of shields. Wood splintered, iron bent, men screamed. But the line did not fully break. Spears thrust deep, some biting into flesh, some snapping. Arrows continued to rain, burying themselves into every gap they could find.
But the price was agony.
A wolf-beast tore into the side of the formation, dragging down two men before being skewered by a spear. A boar rammed into another, tusks splitting armor and spilling entrails across the mud. The air was a storm of noise: the clash of steel, the roar of beasts, the shrieks of dying men. The stench of iron, of smoke, of hot blood filled every breath.
The old man cried out suddenly. His staff shattered in his hands, splintered by the force of the backlash. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he staggered. The Beast King's claw had torn through his stone wall, catching him across the chest. Armor split, flesh torn. He reeled, coughing crimson, but stood still, arms wide, aura blazing one last time.
"Go!" he roared, voice breaking. "Strike while I hold it!"
Chains of rock shot from the ground once more, wrapping the beast's limbs, locking it in place. For a heartbeat, the King thrashed, bound.
Zed saw the chance.
He charged, Shadowfoot blurring him into smoke. His staff swung, black light blazing, striking the beast's throat again and again. The Vampire leapt, claws tearing into its torn leg, ripping deeper, blood splattering across its pale body.
The armored woman staggered upright, halberd blazing anew, and drove it deep into the King's side with a roar. Flesh split, ichor gushed, the beast screamed.
The old man's voice cracked, chains trembling, stone shattering. Blood streamed from his nose, his ears, his eyes. He knew.
And he smiled.
With a final cry, he poured everything into the chains. They tightened like a vice, bones cracking beneath them. The Beast King howled, golden eye blazing. Then the chains exploded in shards, and the old man was hurled backward, his body limp, unmoving as it struck the ground.
Silence fell for a heartbeat.
Then rage consumed the field.
The King thrashed, wounded but unbroken, blood pouring from half a dozen wounds. It smashed its body sideways, breaking men and shields in a spray of gore. Its tail lashed, snapping a horse in half. Its roar shook the heavens.
The line broke in places. Warriors faltered, some falling back, some charging in blind fury. Mud was slick with blood, the air thick with ash, hope hanging by a thread.
And Zed stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, eyes locked on the beast. His body shook with exhaustion, his arms ached with every strike, but he did not falter.
The King had noticed him. It would not let him go.
And Zed stood in the middle of it, chest heaving, eyes locked on the beast. His body shook with exhaustion, his arms ached with every strike, but he did not falter.
The King had noticed him.
It would not let him go.
The Beast King lowered its massive head, its golden eye blazing. Its chest rose and fell with thunderous breaths, each exhale steaming, hot enough to mist the air. Blood poured down its flank from dozens of wounds, but its steps were steady, inexorable. Every movement carried the weight of inevitability, like an avalanche bearing down the mountainside.
Zed's grip tightened on the Shadow Staff. His boots shifted in the mud, weight light but balanced, body screaming yet steady. He could feel the eyes of his clan upon him, but he did not seek them. His entire world was narrowed to the beast before him — predator and prey, locked in one last dance.
The ground shook as the King charged.
Its claws scythed down with the force of falling stone. Zed's body blurred with Shadowfoot, the world stretching in that heartbeat. He stepped into the claw's shadow, staff rising in a precise arc. Black energy pulsed, and wood cracked against bone. The force rattled his arms to the marrow, pain flashing through his ribs, but the blow slid the massive limb aside by inches.
The claw struck the earth where he had stood, exploding the mud into a crater, spraying blood-soaked soil across the field. The stench of iron, rot, and churned earth filled Zed's lungs.
He exhaled.
The beast's jaws lunged. Rows of broken, bloodied teeth closed on him with a snap that could shear steel. Zed ducked low, staff sweeping upward. Black shadows burst, shattering several teeth, ichor spraying across his face.
The Beast King shrieked, staggering back, blood gushing from its maw.
The Vampire struck then, leaping from the side, claws wreathed in mist. They raked across the beast's neck, tearing open raw, steaming flesh. Blood poured in torrents, soaking the ground.
But the King was not undone.
It swung its massive paw. The blow connected with the Vampire mid-leap. Bone snapped like dry branches, the summon hurled into the mud with a wet crash. Its body twisted unnaturally, limbs broken, ribs shattered. Yet still it stirred, dragging itself upright, mist thickening around its frame, eyes glowing like embers refusing to die.
Zed's chest burned with strain. His vision darkened at the edges. His breath was ragged, but deep — controlled. Each inhale sharpened him, cutting away the fog of pain. Each exhale grounded him, driving power through his torn muscles.
The Beast King charged again.
Zed moved.
His staff slammed into its knee, bone cracking. He pivoted, spinning, bringing the other end into its jaw. The beast's head snapped to the side, ichor spraying. Its tail whipped in reply, slamming into Zed's side.
The world exploded in pain. His ribs broke with a sharp crack, blood flooding his mouth. He flew through the air, crashing into the mud. Darkness clawed at him, but he forced breath into his chest.
Inhale. Exhale.
He pushed himself up, coughing crimson, staff braced in the muck. His vision steadied. His gaze found the beast again.
The Beast King roared, towering above the carnage, its golden eye blazing, its throat pouring rivers of black blood. The sound was deafening, shaking loose soil from the cliffside, making men's ears bleed.
Around them, warriors reeled, shields shattered, lines broken. Men screamed, some falling to their knees, others still stabbing desperately into lesser beasts. The elder woman, dented armor streaked with blood, staggered forward again, halberd raised.
Zed inhaled deeper, sharper. His chest felt as if it would tear apart, but he pressed through. He felt his body fracture further with every breath — and understood it.
This was the wall. His body's limit.
And he shattered it.
The Asura's Breath roared within him, veins burning, lungs tearing, but clarity flooded his mind. He felt the strain of every tendon, the tremor of every vein, the pulse of every fracture. He felt the Beast King's rhythm, its fury, its weight. He saw the flow of his own technique, not fragmented, but whole, alive.
His staff pulsed in his hands, shadows writhing down its length. His eyes blazed brighter, cold, unyielding.
The Beast King lunged, jaws gaping.
Zed met it head-on.
He drove the staff upward into its maw, shadows bursting. Teeth shattered, the roof of its mouth split, blood spraying hot across his face. The beast shrieked, head thrashing. Its paw swept down again.
Zed braced the staff, twisting. The blow landed, bones in his arms cracking, his body driven into the mud — but he did not yield. Shadows exploded, forcing the claw aside.
The Vampire rose once more, broken body dragging, but its claws still sharp. Mist thickened until the air itself seemed to bleed shadow. With a snarl, it leapt, both claws raking into the beast's torn throat, digging deep, deeper, until its chest gushed torrents of ichor.
The armored elder screamed, swinging her halberd with both hands. The blade bit into the beast's flank, ripping through ribs, exposing the black meat beneath.
The warriors roared and surged, spears stabbing, swords hacking, arrows piercing.
The Beast King staggered.
Its golden eye flared with unbroken fury. It reared back, a roar tearing from its throat, shaking the valley, throwing men from their feet. Its paw lashed one final time, crushing a dozen warriors into red paste. Its tail smashed through the line, scattering the survivors.
It stumbled forward, half-blind, bleeding rivers, yet still it fought.
Zed inhaled one last time.
His chest tore. His veins screamed. His body shattered. And he surpassed it.
With a roar, he drove the Shadow Staff forward, both hands steady. Shadows spiraled, coiling like serpents, wrapping the weapon in living darkness. The staff pierced flesh, ripped through bone, and struck the heart.
The Beast King convulsed, golden eye blazing with rage, then dimming to dull glass.
It staggered, body trembling.
Then crashed into the mud with a thunder that shook the battlefield.
Silence fell.