The ground whispered first. A small vibration. Almost nothing. But Ironhold had learned to listen. That quiet shift meant one thing.
Something was coming.
The tremor grew. Not a quake—too smooth. Too alive. It rolled through the dirt like a second pulse.
Then the sirens screamed.
Every tower lit up. Red warning glyphs spiraled across holo-screens. Drones zipped from charging docks, weapons blinking active. Defense turrets turned as targeting systems blinked awake.
Guards ran, rifles clutched. Orders flew through comms. "Creatures inbound! South Quadrant perimeter breach!"
Another voice broke in, louder. Shaking. "They're here! Too many—too many for a first wave!"
Then a third, one that sounded like it came from someone watching death walk toward them. "Boneflayers! Grievehowls! Rotback Drudges! And gods—Skynight Harrowers overhead!"
Even the air turned cold.
The Boneflayers hit first.
They tore across the dirt like meat made rage. Skin stripped. Muscle bare. Their jaws split wide, shrieking nonstop, ribcages rising like bellows with each step.
Behind them came the Grievehowls—thin and fast, bones sharp beneath tight, veined skin. They ran on all fours. No eyes. No hesitation. Their wails cracked windows before they reached the walls.
The Rotbacks dragged in last. Slow, massive, leaking rot that burned through ground and steel alike. Sacs on their backs pulsed and burst, spilling black clouds that clung to everything.
Then came the sky.
Skynight Harrowers dove through the smoke. Wings stretched thin, bones like blades. Too low. Too fast. One guard raised his rifle. Missed. His arms wouldn't stop shaking.
"Skynights are descending! They're targeting the reactors—they know where to hit!"
The line started to break. One creature dropped, then two more came behind it. A flood with no end.
Then it hit.
A single impact. Like a mountain falling sideways.
The far edge of the barrier cracked. Steel warped. The ground split open like something was clawing its way out from underneath.
Silence, for one breath.
Then a voice, barely more than a whisper, crept into the comms. "…That's not Tier 3."
From the broken ground, something pulled itself free.
Black plates covered its body, gleaming hot. Steam hissed from its joints. It looked carved from volcanic stone—too massive to move, but it did. Six legs slammed down, shaking the walls. Its head rose, sharp-edged, mouth pulling open not with a roar… but a deep, dragging moan that seemed to twist the air itself.
The comms went dead for a second.
Then one word broke through. "T-Tier 4 confirmed. It's The Obsidian Wretch…"
Every soldier stopped.
Even the air stood still.
A young guard stood frozen near the southern wall. His hands gripped his rifle, knuckles white. The massive shape in the dust loomed larger with every step.
"W–why is one of the strongest Tier 4s here?" he asked, voice barely more than a breath.
No one answered. Around him, gunfire roared. Screams broke like waves across the walls. And still, the creature kept coming.
————
Inside the Ironhold Command Hall, the walls pulsed red with alert glyphs. Screens blinked with feeds from every corner of the settlement.
One showed the southern wall buckling. Another showed bodies—scattered like broken tools across the ground.
Eir stood in the center, arms tight across his chest, watching the monitors without blinking. The other elders circled behind him. None spoke.
Captain Tim stood nearby, still as the stone walls around them.
Eir turned. "So… when will the military arrive?"
Tim answered right away. "They'll be here shortly. Extraction forces and a suppression squad are en route."
One of the elders—Lane—stepped forward. Sweat lined his face. "They better come fast. This isn't a simple test wave. This is an incursion. We should send in the teams now."
Eir gave a short nod. His eyes didn't leave the screens. "Agreed. If we hit hard before they breach the gates, we might hold the line."
The comms sparked.
"Sir, we've got a problem! The north wall—it's under attack too!"
Eir turned sharply. "What?!"
Lane leaned closer. "What kind of creatures?"
The voice came back, tight with fear. "Confirmed visual: Ravagers, Spine Crawlers… and Tier 4s—The Scorchbloom Horror and the Wretched Dancer."
The room changed.
No one moved at first.
Then voices spilled over each other.
"They're surrounding us."
"This is coordinated. That's never happened before."
"We can't defend both walls!"
"Three Tier 4s on the first wave—are we being targeted?"
The noise built. Sharp. Uneven. Close to breaking.
Then Eir raised one hand. His voice didn't rise, but it cut through the room like a blade. "Enough. Panic won't save anyone. We hold this city. We buy time. That's our job until the military arrives."
The room went still again.
Lucille stepped out of the circle. Her gaze swept the room. "So how do we buy time against monsters like those?"
Augustin shifted his weight onto his staff. Old bones, but his voice held steady. "We already know their weaknesses. The creatures are powerful, yes—but not unstoppable."
He looked to Eir. "Send the right teams. With the right orders. No glory missions. Just survival."
Eir nodded once. The tension in his jaw didn't fade. "Then we bleed to hold this city. No more, no less."
Eir's voice cut through the tension. "Call all active teams. They need to mobilize—now."
The comm crackled.
"Already done, sir. They're heading to the command hall."
Eir turned back to the monitors. Their glow cast pale light across his face. "All of them?"
"Yeah. Every member on their teams. And sir… they're moving fast. Real serious looks on their faces."
Eir gave a single nod. "Good. Open the gates for them."
The command hall shook with the deep grind of steel doors parting. Heat spilled through the opening, carrying dust and the distant rhythm of gunfire.
Then the teams walked in.
Ash. Max. Kael. Others followed—faces set, movements sharp. Their boots hit the floor like they'd already decided the fight was theirs.
Mia stepped in near the front, wind pushing strands of hair across her face. "What the hell is going on out there? This is just the first wave, and it already looks like the end of the world."
Kai, from Team Galeforce, scanned the room, jaw clenched. "You said it'd be big, but this… this is insane."
Kael flexed his fingers. A grin stretched across his face like it had waited all day. "Let them come. There's a lot of them, yeah—but we've got more than numbers." He gave a glance around the room. "We've got me."
Alex scoffed, arms crossed. "Oh, there it is. The classic Kael confidence. No surprise from my rival."
Kael blinked once, then broke into laughter. "Rival? You wish."
The moment cracked. A thin line of ease passed between them. Then it faded.
Eir stepped forward. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The teams straightened as soon as he spoke. "That's enough."
He looked at them—each one—and for a moment, the fight outside fell away.
"I didn't expect so many of you to respond this quickly. But I'm glad you did. We're outnumbered. And this threat… it's organized. That doesn't happen by chance."
His gaze landed on Max. Just for a second. Then moved on.
"As you've probably heard, the southern wall is under attack. But so is the north."
A few glances passed between teammates. No one stepped back.
"They're trying to split us. To break the line before it forms. But we won't give them that."
From somewhere beyond the war hall, the sound of impact rolled in—a low, dragging boom that made the floor feel thinner.
Eir looked toward the sealed entrance. His voice dropped.
"You all know what's out there. And now… if we don't stop these waves before the next, we all know how hard it would become."
Max stepped forward, his voice cutting clean through the air. "So… you already have a plan, then?"
Eir gave a slow nod. His jaw locked tight. "I do. Or something that passes for one." He let the silence sit—heavy, uncomfortable—before continuing. "But let me be clear. It's not a plan built to keep you safe. It's a plan to keep Ironhold standing. So please—I hope you understand."
Thane —a member of team Galeforce— fold his arm, head tilted back, didn't bother to open his eyes. "Well, except for a few in Team Vortex, most of us are Vein Stage 4 or 5. And we even have a Stage 6 among us." A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "We can pull this off."
Ash felt the words land like a weight.
'He means me,' Ash thought, the air catching in his chest. 'And he's right. On paper, I'm the weakest link.'
Eir's eyes found him. "Are you sure you're ready for this? This isn't Sandworm Valley. There's no luck in this fight. Out there, it's survival or death. I don't want to send you to die just because of legacy."
Ash didn't answer. His hands curled into fists. That familiar look—doubt wrapped in concern—burned hotter than flame.
'There it is again… that look. Like I'm just a tag-along. A shadow of my father and brothers.'
Before Ash could speak, Max stepped in. His voice didn't waver. "Don't worry about Ash, Elder Eir. He's stronger than you think. He'll hold his ground."
Eir paused. Then gave a short nod. "If you vouch for him… I'll trust that."
From the back, Lane's voice sliced through. "Enough talk. They need to move. We're burning time."
Ash turned his head, just enough to see him. Cold stare. Controlled tone.
That voice… the same one whispered about in hushed stories. About the decisions that cost ironhold settlers so much.
'So you're the one pulling strings in the dark…' Ash thought.
Lane didn't stop. "We have multiple Tier 4s in the field. And don't forget the Obsidian Wretch."
At the name, a flicker passed across the elders. A shift. Even Eir's face drew tighter.
He cleared his throat. "Right. The plan. Since we've identified weaknesses in the creatures, I'll assign each team based on elemental advantage and strategic fit."
The war map lit up behind him. Ironhold's grid pulsed with glowing red zones. North and south—both flashing under siege.
"The north and south are both compromised," Eir said. "We've split the response based on coverage and capability. Team Rise—you'll take the south wall. With a Stage 6 among you, you're the only ones that stand a real chance at taking down the Obsidian Wretch."
He turned to Max. "Team Vortex—you're assigned to the north wall."
Kai let out a sharp breath. "You're sending the weakest team there?"
Eir didn't blink. "Because Kael is with them. He already took down a Tier 6. I trust he can handle a few Tier 4s. Besides, I'm splitting Galeforce into two strike units—you've got the numbers but you all lack the use of other veinflow elements other than wind but with the help of the rest it would work. You'll cover both fronts."
Kai's jaw clenched. "Fine. But don't expect us to babysit the dead weight." His eyes locked on Ash. "If he wants to die out there, it's not on us."
Ash didn't look away. 'You'll see. I don't need saving. I never did.'
Kael's knuckles cracked as he leaned in, eyes fixed on Kai. "Better worry about yourself, featherboy. The battlefield doesn't care how fast you are if your spine breaks."
Eir raised a hand. "Enough. You've got your orders. The walls won't hold forever. Oh, and don't worry too much—the military's already on their way. Move out."
No one argued. They didn't need to.
The teams turned, boots striking the floor in steady rhythm. The sound rolled like thunder through the command hall.
Ash walked with them. Not behind. Not dragging his feet. 'I'll show them all what I'm really capable of.'
They moved through Ironhold's war corridors in a tight formation. The floor shook faintly beneath their boots. Overhead, red lights pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and steady—each blink a countdown. Sirens cried out above them, not loud, but sharp. Like the city itself was warning them.
"Ash," Max called, keeping pace beside him.
"Mm?" Ash didn't look back.
Max's eyes stayed forward, but his tone shifted—serious, pulled tight beneath the surface. "Promise me you won't overuse that new ability today."
Ash didn't stop. But something in his steps changed—just for a second. Max caught it.
"I know that look," Max said. "You've already made up your mind to go all out. But don't. Not like that. Not today."
Ash turned his head slightly. His jaw was set, eyes shadowed.
Max's voice lowered. "They don't know the real you, Ash. But I do. You're already strong. Even without the speed. Honestly…" His mouth twisted into a faint grin. "You're stronger than me if I'm not wearing tech. I shouldn't have let you use that ability back in Sandworm Valley. That was on me."
Ash shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. I'd do it again—even if you asked me to do it a hundred times."
Max smiled and gave a quiet, short breath. "I figured you'd say that."
Ahead, the war doors groaned as they began to open. Dust blew in through the widening gap. Screams carried in from the outside—short, sharp, broken by the sound of gunfire. Something screeched out there, something not human.
Max slowed, just enough to look over at his brother. "The creatures in this wave… they're Tier 3. We can handle them—especially with your lightning abilities. I'm not saying don't use your speed ability. Just… don't push it too far."
Ash didn't answer right away.
'Yeah… aging quickly isn't exactly a great tradeoff,' he thought. 'I finally get a power that makes me matter… but I can't use it without tearing myself apart.'
He flexed his fingers. Electricity danced between them—small arcs, faint, but alive.
"I'll be careful," he said at last. "But if it comes down to protecting any of you… I won't hold back."
Max looked over, his face unreadable, but his eyes said more than his words. "I figured you'd say that too."
The doors finished opening. Outside, the streets burned. Smoke twisted into the sky. And in the distance, just beyond the barricades, the creatures waited—claws, fangs, eyes glowing with hunger.
Ash stepped through the threshold, static in his blood, the sound of war pulling him forward.