The clearing was drenched in sweat, blood, and the scent of fear.
The Tier-6 monster had learned from the fight. Every strike, every movement was precise, calculated. It no longer swung blindly. It was a predator at the peak of its instincts, testing the limits of its prey—testing the elves.
The warriors faltered. Some of the younger ones had already been knocked aside or driven to the edge of the clearing. The archers were nearly out of arrows, their once-confident volleys now erratic, desperate. Each missed shot drew another roar from the monster, shaking the treetops and the nerves of everyone in the forest.
The elf leader stood tall, though his arms trembled. He had already taken a blow to the side, blood running down his torso, staining his armor and the earth beneath him. Every step he took toward the creature was measured, every swing of his broken spear precise. But even precision had limits, and fatigue was slowly eroding his focus.
The monster lunged.
