A pressure builds inside me, oppressive, as if the air itself thickens around my battered body. I’m not even capable of fighting properly in this state, and the healing mage will likely release his spell at the battle’s start, leaving me at the mercy of the pain.   

My broken ribs protest with every breath, and my lacerated chest pulses beneath sweat-soaked bandages. I glance toward Captain Lancelot, standing before us, his imposing silhouette carved against the fog.   

  

Wait… he has a second sword? I squint, intrigued.   

Two blades hang at his waist, one familiar, the other strange. This second sword is peculiar: its sheath seems designed to contain his Mana, but it fails miserably. A reddish glow escapes through the seams, betraying an unstable, almost living energy.   

  

Lancelot turns to us, his face grave but determined.   

“They have the object we came for, I’m sure,” he declares, his voice resonating like a war drum through the icy wind.   

“I don’t know the true nature of our enemies, but you are capable. Together, we will prevail. After this, we’ll all go home. In a few days, you’ll be warm, with your families. But first, you must fight—for your lives, for the Kingdom of Lilyani, for the future of the world. Know that discovering this object will help us avoid an unparalleled catastrophe, one that would kill us all without a doubt. So, soldiers, friends, carry your swords with pride, and don’t falter before fear or adversity. We will win this battle!”   

  

I’m ready.   

His speech ignites me, a flame sparking in my chest despite the pain. I think the men around me feel it too—their eyes gleam with newfound resolve, their fists tightening on their weapons.   

  

I wonder how Dame Rikami motivated her troops at the South Gate. Long speeches aren’t her style; she prefers action over rhetoric.   

Perhaps she simply drew her katana, her aura enough to rally the soldiers.   

  

The Captain orders the gates opened.   

We step out, plunging into a world of nothingness. The fog remains thick, a magical veil our mages can’t dispel—just as I’d sensed in my cave.   

  

I hear the first clash of steel, followed by the first cries of agony, screams piercing the oppressive silence. I must stay alert, keep my guard up.   

I channel my Mana with difficulty and light a small halo of fire around me, a flickering glow that helps me see through the mist. The warmth of the flames soothes the cold’s bite for a moment, but it doesn’t ease the anxiety tightening my throat.   

  

Monsters surge from everywhere, a nightmarish horde.   

Animated skeletons with creaking bones, Ghouls with rotting flesh, and other creatures I can’t even identify.   

But in the distance, a figure catches my eye: a strange humanoid riding a skeletal horse. A terrifying power emanates from it, a black aura that makes the air shiver.   

  

I see glowing blue circles opening everywhere—the Captain’s show has begun.   

His swirling portals are magnificent, a ballet of light and chaos, but I must stay focused. This isn’t the time to marvel.   

  

A skeletal monster approaches me, wielding a rusty old sword in its remaining hands. Its empty sockets fix on me, a macabre grin splitting its cracked skull.   

“Go on, Leyart, this is your moment,” I tell myself, voice trembling but resolute. “You can’t die like this.”   

I concentrate as best I can, ignoring the pain stabbing through me, and attempt to create a fireball. The creature closes in fast, its steps clacking on the frozen ground.   

  

As it nears a few meters, I rasp out my incantation:   

“By the flames of the Underworld, consume yourself as the ancient gods of this world. Fireball!”   

The flame bursts forth, wavering but effective, and the creature ignites, collapsing into a pile of smoldering ashes.   

But in the chaos, a reflex saves me: I dodge a sword strike from a colleague just in time.   

  

Is my fire’s light only visible to me? Yes, he seems blinded by the fog, his erratic movements betraying confusion. This fog is horribly effective, an impenetrable wall scrambling the senses.   

I hear more cries of agony around me, groans cutting through the battle’s clamor. Is this battle being lost? No, it can’t be.   

  

We can’t lose, not with Lancelot and Rikami among us.   

Suddenly, the retreat horn blares from the South Gate. Rikami lost?! The idea seems absurd, but the standing men panic, their faces paling beneath grime and blood.   

They begin retreating toward the North Gate, abandoning the fight.   

“No, not like this…” I murmur, rage rising in me.   

“THE CAPTAIN IS STILL STANDING! DON’T GIVE UP, VICTORY IS OURS!”   

No one listens. I see the Captain’s portals growing rarer, their turquoise light fading. Is his Mana waning? Fear grips my heart.   

  

He’s just faced the creature on its horse. I hold my breath, fascinated and horrified.   

A massive scarlet glow erupts, unleashing a beam of overwhelming power. I’m forced to my knees, the energy’s pressure pinning me down.   

  

Is this the sword’s power? The Mana crushes me, immobilizing me, and I see the beam sweep across the battlefield—toward me, toward my comrades.   

As it nears to obliterate me, a blue portal opens beneath my feet. A half-second later, the men and I are flung back to the town center.   

We can only witness the horror before us.   

  

The civilians have been slaughtered, their bodies scattered in an indescribable carnage.   

The ground, the walls—everything is soaked in still-flowing blood, entrails littering the crimson snow. I pause to catch my breath, my heart pounding wildly.   

Around me, my comrades drop their weapons and run to find their families, desperate.   

“My wife?! Where is she?!” I shout, panic seizing me.   

  

I run as fast as my injured legs allow, stumbling over corpses toward my home.   

It’s ablaze, flames devouring the wooden walls with terrifying voracity.   

Ahead, Dame Rikami stands motionless, her katana drawn but lowered.   

“Dame Rikami, what happened?!” I scream, my voice breaking with anguish.   

She looks at me, her face impassive despite the scene.   

“I didn’t have time. The woman inside is dead.”   

“What?! No?! That can’t be?!” I collapse to my knees, tears bursting forth despite myself. “Another fire, more deaths… Will it never end? Am I cursed? Doomed to survive only to watch my loved ones die one by one?”   

  

Memories flood back: my wife’s laughter, our future plans, our dream of having a child together, a beautiful life within reach.   

“Why?” I sob, my hands sinking into the tainted snow.   

Rikami lifts me with a firm grip, her hold unyielding.   

“You’ll have time to grieve later. Get up and take me to Prince Lancelot. He’s facing an opponent far too strong for him. I must help.”   

She’s right. I must fight for the living. The Captain is still battling that creature, and I can’t abandon him.   

  

In one motion, I rise, wiping my tears with my sleeve, and run toward the North Gate.   

The sight rivals the worst horror novels: mountains of corpses pile up, their faces frozen in terror, blood forming rivers in the alleys.   

At the gate, I point Rikami toward the fight between the Captain and the creature.   

In a flash, she’s there, so fast I sense no trace of magic. How can a human move so swiftly without magic?!   

  

My mind reels, but I run to help as best I can, resigned to sacrifice myself for the Captain. I can’t endure this kind of loss again, not after losing everything.   

As I run, I consider which spell to use. I only have a fireball, but how can I improve? An idea strikes: use one of the Captain’s portals before it closes to amplify my attack.   

  

Minutes later, I reach the battlefield. It’s fast, too fast. The creature has the upper hand.   

Up close, I realize it resembles a human—a zombie and skeleton fused into a terrifying, grotesque form. Its empty eyes gleam with malevolent light, its grin revealing jagged teeth.   

I see Rikami strike with her katana, her graceful movements like a deadly dance, while the Captain uses his portals to disorient the foe. But the creature parries every blow with unsettling ease.   

  

The Captain’s sword glows with a red light so intense it seems to pulse with its own energy.   

The creature dismounts its horse and, with a snap of its fingers, makes it vanish into an unfathomable shadow.   

I arrive, panting, and see the creature sneer, mocking Lancelot and Rikami.   

“Is the gap between them so vast?” I wonder, my heart tightening.   

  

It’s time to act. My instincts warn me of danger. I channel my Mana, more focused than ever.   

Every millisecond could be fatal in this fight. A fiery aura swirls around me, the flames dancing with growing intensity.   

Rikami pauses for half a second, visibly startled by what I’m doing. That hesitation lets the creature land a vicious blow.   

She resists, but she’s injured, a hand pressed to her ribs. Her once-fluid movements are now jerky.   

  

My Mana is charged. I’m ready.   

I shout to the Captain:   

“A portal, now!”   

Lancelot creates one before me without hesitation, his mastery intact despite his fatigue.   

A voice echoes in my mind, reciting an incantation I only half-understand. I feel transcended, overflowing with Mana beyond my natural limits.   

I recite the mysterious words:   

“To the supreme entity of the Underworld, great God of this world, you who began all and will end all, I implore you to reduce my enemy to ashes. Fenrir, lend me your power, grant me your flames, that this world may witness your eternal might!”   

  

The spell surges through the portal, and at that moment, Lancelot opens a second one before the creature.   

A massive fiery wolf materializes, its blazing fangs glowing in the dimness, unleashing a devastating explosion of flames.   

The creature reacts unexpectedly: it seems afraid, its movements growing erratic.   

It charges at me in an instant, hissing in my ear:   

“The magic of Fenrir… You are a golden generation. I cannot let you live.”   

Its sword nears, and I see it in slow motion, flashes of my life—my wife’s laughter, lost moments of joy—flashing before my eyes.   

  

As the blade aims for my head, a powerful kick sends me crashing to the ground.   

My ribs shatter again with a sinister crack. I spit blood, lying helpless, but I force my head up.   

The Captain… He saved me again… But—   

“NO!! CAPTAIN!!!” I scream, my voice breaking with horror.   

Rikami returns, a hand on her ribs, wounded but ready to fight.   

She saw it too: Lancelot is impaled by the creature’s sword, his armor splattered with blood.   

  

He turns his head toward us, his gaze faltering.   

“I’ll get you out,” he whispers, voice weak.   

“We’ve lost… It’s over. But you’ll return, and you’ll kill it. I…”   

He coughs blood, his breath rasping.   

“I’m sure… I trust in… you.”   

With a final effort, he opens a portal beneath us. As we teleport, we see the creature sever his head with a precise strike.   

His lifeless body collapses into the snow, and the world seems to stop.