The air had turned thick. Too thick. Essence pulsed like an invisible heartbeat, pounding through the atmosphere, growing stronger with every passing second. From within the village square, the faint murmurs of fearful families rose beneath the protective dome, yet no voice dared to carry too loud, as though even a whisper might provoke the horror festering at the gate. The tension wasn't just in the air — it had seeped into the skin, into the bones of every man, woman, and child.
On the farms, silence had taken over. Only the subtle groans of straining earth mages finishing the last of the barricades broke the dreadful hush. Atop the earth wall, Captain Raynor stood, his eyes locked on the pulsing purple mass of the gate, watching the swirling vortex deepen, twisting and convulsing as if something monstrous on the other side was clawing its way through reality. The wind shifted, carrying a strange, bitter heat that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
And then… it broke.
A high, piercing crack ripped through the night, like glass shattering in an empty hall, followed by a low, guttural rumble that made the very ground quiver. The gate flexed outward and collapsed in on itself like a dying star, before blooming open, splitting the sky with an eruption of light and hellish sound.
They came in droves.
From the gaping maw of the gate, the first wave of Blaze Tail Lynxes burst forth with such speed and violence that several of the officers nearly lost balance on the wall. Their bodies were low and lean, reminiscent of oversized wolves, but with a sleek, almost serpentine agility. Their fur was a deep, infernal black, with veins of molten red running across their bodies, pulsing with the rhythm of an unseen flame. But it was their tails — long, sinewy appendages engulfed in living fire — that cut through the night like burning whips, leaving arcing trails of flame in the air and scorched lines across the earth.
As they moved, their claws tore up the soil like parchment, their fangs glinting white-hot under the gate's glow. Each of them snarled with an eerie, guttural shriek that reverberated across the fields. These were not mere disasters. They were predators, tuned perfectly with the fire essence in the atmosphere. Flames clung to them like loyal pets, never flickering out, burning hotter as the creatures rampaged.
"Hold formation!" Captain Raynor bellowed, his voice cracking through the fear that clung to the officers like a second skin. "Archers! Fire! Mages, suppress them! Tanks — brace the wall!"
As if waking from a trance, the officers snapped into action. From the backline, glowing arrows streaked through the air, each shot enhanced with piercing runes, finding their mark within the flesh of the oncoming Lynxes. Explosions of flame and gore littered the field, but for every Lynx that fell, two more emerged from the gate, claws scraping, tails lashing, eyes burning with untamed hunger.
Water mages did what they could, sending spiraling torrents to snuff out the fires where possible, but the infernal nature of the flames resisted, burning unnaturally bright even beneath the deluge.
Raynor vaulted from the wall, twin machetes already glowing like molten iron in his grip, runes along their edges flaring with his essence. As he landed, the earth quaked from the force of his arrival, and with a fluid motion, he swung his blades wide, carving into the first Blaze Tail Lynx that dared to leap at him. The creature's head separated cleanly from its body, steam rising from the wound as burning blood hissed against the dirt.
"Push forward!" he commanded, and a squad of ten brave officers surged behind him. Swordsmen and spearmen flanked his sides, their weapons flashing under the glow of the flames. Earth mages shifted the battlefield, making patches of ground slick and unstable, causing Lynxes to slip and stumble just long enough for blades to find their mark.
For a time, it almost felt manageable.
Until the rank twos arrived.
The gate pulsed again, this time with such force that a shockwave rippled across the farmland, knocking weaker men to their knees. And then they came — larger, deadlier versions of the Blaze Tail Lynx, their bodies nearly the size of carriages, their flames brighter, hotter, more volatile. These were no longer beasts; they were walking infernos with muscle and fang. Their tails cracked like whips, igniting the very air, and when they moved, they became blurs of fire and death.
Officer Balen was the first to fall. One moment, he was driving his spear through the flank of a smaller Lynx; the next, a rank two predator crashed into him from the side, its tail wrapping around his body. There was no time to scream. The flame lashed tight, and with a violent tug, Balen was split in two, his charred remains hitting the ground with a sickening wet sound.
"Balen!" someone cried out, but it was already too late.
Another officer, Maren, a swordswoman known for her agility, tried to flank one of the rank twos, aiming for its exposed side. But the beast was faster. Much faster. In the blink of an eye, it twisted around, catching her mid-strike. Its maw clamped down on her torso with bone-crunching finality. She managed only a strangled gasp before the creature shook her like a ragdoll and flung her broken body into a nearby tree with such force that the trunk split.
Captain Raynor's breaths grew ragged as he ducked beneath a sweeping tail, narrowly avoiding a flame arc that would have gutted him alive. He knew the tide was turning. Knew that they couldn't hold much longer.
"Push them back! Form ranks! TANKS, FRONT!" Raynor ordered, but his voice was losing its bite. For every order given, fewer men responded.
Still, they fought.
Steel clashed against claw, magic roared across the field, and the air became thick with smoke and the stench of burning flesh. The wall still stood, but even the archers and mages atop it were beginning to falter as the battlefield descended into chaos.
And then, through the chaos, a voice crackled into Raynor's earpiece.
— "Captain Raynor. This is HQ. Hold the line. Reinforcements inbound. Captain Garrick of the 3rd Unit is on his way. Estimated arrival… fifteen minutes."
Raynor's heart skipped a beat. Relief. Hope. For the briefest of moments.
But then his eyes flicked back to the gate. More shapes, bigger shapes, prowled just beyond the threshold, waiting their turn to enter this world. Rank threes. Maybe worse.
"Fifteen minutes…" he whispered. "Might as well be a lifetime."
With a grunt, he swiped the blood from his face and opened his comm again.
"Trevor," he said, his voice low, steady despite the storm raging around him. "Begin arming everyone inside the dome. Every able-bodied man and woman. Get the weapons out and start forming lines."
There was a pause. Then Trevor's voice came through, shaken but resolute.
— "Understood."
Raynor exhaled slowly, turning his gaze to the inferno ahead, the night lit with the glow of unending flames.
And then he charged back into the fray.