Booms. Screams. Dust.
The stench of burnt flesh and magic choked the air.
The field before the Second Gate had become hell.
A massive stone arch, etched with ancient runes, pulsed with dark energy—
vibrating like a living beast ready to rupture.
"Mages! Hold that barrier for as long as you can!"
Commander Keron's boots sank into blood-soaked mud.
Above the gate, a translucent magical dome shimmered —
the only thing stopping the portal from opening.
Five mages stood in a tight circle, trembling.
Their hands shook, eyes bleeding from sheer strain.
"North flank's breached! The orcs are pushing through!"
"Hold them! Don't let them reach the gate!"
The orcs came in waves — massive, armored, and unrelenting.
Their red eyes glowed with fury.
No siege weapons.
Instead, they carried living shields — prisoners bound in chains.
"Red-caste... damn it," whispered one soldier.
These orcs weren't normal.
They were second-tier — tougher, faster, smarter.
One could wipe out a squad.
Now, hundreds charged at once.
Commander Keron clenched his blade.
He knew the truth —
They weren't here to destroy.
They were here to accelerate the opening of the gate.
Their presence would destabilize the magic.
He'd seen it before.
He was there when the First Gate fell.
"The barrier's breaking!" a mage screamed.
Crack—
A ripple of energy burst as part of the dome shattered.
A flash of violent red light struck a squad of soldiers —
disintegrating them instantly.
Howls.
Screams.
Spears in the air.
Limbs torn apart.
Blood flowed like a river.
Commander Keron dropped to one knee.
One eye blinded, arm limp.
He stared at the gate pulsing with crimson light.
"We've lost..."
And then—
The ground trembled.
A deep hum spread through the roots beneath their feet.
The air itself... froze.
Keron turned toward the misty forest line behind them.
From within the fog...
Someone walked out.
Silence.
Even the orcs paused.
Something was wrong.
From the mist that blanketed the forest, a figure emerged.
Tall. Cloaked in green.
His face hidden in shadows, with long, vine-like strands hanging like hair.
He walked slowly — as if he wasn't in a hurry to save anyone.
— Is that... him? — one of the mages gasped, collapsing to his knees.
— Kurtar, — whispered Commander Keron, barely believing his eyes.
Kurtar didn't say a word.
He walked across the blood-soaked field,
reached the hill near the gate — and raised his hand.
The earth rang.
Roots burst from the ground.
From beneath corpses and mud, figures of bark, moss, and vines rose.
They became warriors — towering as trees, with limbs like hammers.
Their eyes glowed with the same dim green light as Kurtar's.
"The living bleed..." he muttered. "Then rise, you who once grew. Protect them."
The orcs charged—
But they were already too late.
The forest had awakened.
One giant swept through enemy lines, crushing dozens.
Vines wrapped around legs, throats, snapped armor like dry twigs.
Thorned roots shot from the soil, impaling anything in reach.
Massive tendrils coiled and dragged entire squads into the ground.
The mages stared in horror and awe.
Even the soldiers could barely believe what they were seeing.
The gate's light began to dim.
The red glow flickered.
The energy—fading.
Minutes later...
The battle was over.
The orcs fled.
The gate remained closed.
The humans had survived.
Kurtar lowered his hand.
The wooden soldiers halted—
And slowly crumbled into dust.
The forest fell silent once again.
He spoke no words.
He simply turned...
and walked back into the mist.
"He... saved us," Keron exhaled.