The forest edge didn't just reveal a few monsters; it vomited an entire legion. Ten thousand shadows—goblins, orcs, reptiles, and wild boars—stood in a suffocating line.
"Namizo," Satoro said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "Take Kiego and leave. Evacuate the villagers and call for back-up."
"What about you?" Namizo asked, his eyes wide.
"This is my village. I will protect it. Now go!" Satoro didn't look back. His eyes remained locked on the dark figures leading the horde.
Kiego hesitated, his heart hammering against his ribs. "You can't handle this alone! Let me help you!"
The Elder finally turned his head halfway, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. "Kiego... you're taking the exams this year, right? Awaken that sword. You're going to be an amazing Defender. Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you."
Reluctantly, Kiego followed Namizo into the panic of the village. Left alone, Satoro's expression hardened into granite. He walked toward the ten-thousand-strong army as if he owned the very earth beneath his boots.
"STORMRAIDER!" he roared.
Bolts of lightning erupted from his palm, knitting together in a blinding flash to form a massive, solid war-hammer. He dragged the heavy head of the weapon along the dirt, sparks flying. At seventy-five, Satoro had the build of a man in his fifties—a former A-Class Imperial Defender known as the "Thunder God."
Across the field, the enemy leaders watched. A blue-skinned Elf with glowing eyes and pointed teeth notched an arrow, while a Vampire hovered above him over an ink-like darkness.
"Let me handle him," the Elf hissed, his long white hair standing on end from the static in the air. He signaled the Direwolves. "Rough him up. Don't kill him yet."
As the wolves and the horde charged, Satoro raised his weapon. "AWAKEN, STORMRAIDER!"
The hammer was swallowed by blue lightning. Satoro's eyes began to glow with the same electric hue, and the wind whipped his white hair into a frenzy.
"HEAVY THUNDER!"
He slammed the hammer down. The earth shattered. A massive fissure opened, swallowing the Direwolves in rubble and light. He didn't stop. Satoro leaped into the heart of the horde—plunging into a sea of five thousand goblins and three thousand orcs.
He became a whirlwind of destruction. Every swing of the hammer sent goblins flying like autumn leaves. Lightning arced from the weapon, incinerating anything within range. A goblin tried to sink a dagger into his back; Satoro didn't even look, dropping the creature with a blind punch before spinning his hammer in a lethal, 360-degree arc. Floating above, the Vampire's eyes narrowed. "If you fail, Elf, I will suck you dry." He began to drift toward the village—toward the fleeing Kiego. Satoro snarled, pointing the head of STORMRAIDER at the flying menace. He fired a bolt of pure energy, but the Elf was faster. An arrow hissed through the air, colliding with Satoro's lightning bolt and knocking it off course.
"Your fight is with me," the Elf smirked.
The horde closed in. Monsters climbed over one another to reach the Thunder God, locking his arms, biting at his shoulders, and driving blades into his sides. Satoro roared, headbutting an orc in front of him and throwing his weight backward to crush those behind him. He was a lion surrounded by hyenas, bleeding, but far from finished. The sky over the Imperial City was no longer blue; it was fractured by jagged veins of white-hot lightning. From the outskirts, Lily watched the horizon with a narrowed gaze. She stared at the flickering sky, the blue light reflecting in her eyes as she watched the lightning that refused to fade. The lightning shot into the heavens, and Lily knew instantly that she had to move. Even from this distance, she could sense the collision of power—a battle between A-class entities. Lily was a striking presence, with long, light-blue hair that caught the wind and deep blue eyes that mirrored the stormy sky. She was an A-class defender herself, and she carried herself with a calm, focused grace that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Dressed in obsidian-black armor etched with sharp white markings, she sprinted toward her griffin. As an A-class defender, she didn't just see the storm—she felt the oppressive weight of the magical energy behind it.
"Take me to that village," she commanded, her voice calm despite the chaos. Beside her, her griffin shrieked, a sound of pure mechanical joy, sensing her resolve. It took a powerful running start, its massive wings catching the wind as they leaped into the air. Satoro, she thought, her heart tightening. That's his STORMRAIDER. What in the world is happening?
Miles away, the earth was screaming. Every time Satoro and the Elf clashed, a shockwave rippled through the dirt, sending bolts of lightning spiraling into the heavens. Satoro and the Elf were locked in a ferocious duel, moving almost faster than the eye could follow. Every time their weapons clashed, a pillar of lightning erupted toward the clouds and a devastating pressure wave rippled through the air. The Elf wiped a smudge of dust from his face, a jagged grin spreading across his features. "Well, well, well... you're strong, old man. Tell me your name."
"Satoro," the elder replied, his voice like grinding stone. "Raika Satoro."
"Daran," the Elf countered. "I will remember that name... Thunder God Raika!"
Daran's magical energy shifted. The arrows floating behind him suddenly surged forward, not to strike Satoro, but to sink into Daran's own flesh. He didn't bleed; he absorbed them. His muscles swelled, his white hair lengthening until it whipped against his waist. His eyes, once sharp, were now pits of pure, glowing blue evil.
"I won't hold back either," Satoro growled.
He raised STORMRAIDER toward the clouds. A massive bolt of lightning answered his call, striking the hammer with a deafening crack. The weapon began to groan and shift, ancient symbols etched into the iron beginning to glow with a celestial light. Spikes erupted from the hammer's head, and the air pressure became so immense that the surrounding orcs and man-eating reptiles simply collapsed, their hearts stopping from the sheer weight of the magical energy.
Satoro shifted his weight, pulling the evolved hammer over his shoulder like a ball player ready for a home run. The ground beneath his boots turned to powder.