The cheer died in an instant.
One moment the battlefield had been erupting — weapons raised, voices breaking open with relief after everything they had survived. And then the red veil pulsed, the Alpha rose, and every single one of those voices went quiet at once.
Garth stood in the silence.
His back was open and bleeding — fresh wounds layered over old ones, his shirt long since soaked through and dark. Ham lay on the ground ahead of him, ribs rising and falling in slow, labored pulls. Garth's axe was in his hand. His knees hadn't buckled yet.
He was still standing.
Kairo's mind moved fast.
(What — did it just... regenerate?)
He watched the Alpha roll its neck, the last traces of every wound Garth had carved into it over the course of three brutal exchanges simply — gone. Sealed. Like the fight had never happened.
(This is bad. I knew brute force alone wouldn't be enough, but this — this is something else entirely.)
His jaw tightened.
(If it can simply erase all accumulated damage then no matter how long Garth holds—)
Something buzzed at the edge of his mind.
He paused. Activated the map function quietly, eyes scanning the overlaid display with rapid precision. The data resolved. He read it once. Twice.
Then — despite everything — a begrudging smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
He closed the map.
"...Five minutes," he murmured.
Shiri turned. "What?"
Kairo didn't answer him.
Instead he stepped forward, cupped a hand to his mouth, and let his voice cut clean across the battlefield.
"Garth!"
The name rang out over the chaos like a struck bell. Garth turned — one eye open, the other sealed shut beneath a mask of blood, his expression somewhere between exhausted and feral. He found Kairo's face across the distance.
"Can you last five minutes?!"
A beat.
Garth stared at him.
Then — slowly, painfully, with all the casual confidence of a man who had absolutely no business projecting it right now — he smiled.
His hand came up.
Thumbs up.
"The battle is still not over!"
His voice cracked on the last word and he didn't care even slightly. He turned back to the Alpha, hauled his axe up with both hands, and charged.
Something moved in Kairo's chest that he chose not to examine too closely.
He turned.
"Kobolds. Living armor. Hobgoblins. Rabbitmen. Ghouls."
Every head turned toward him.
"There are thirty hounds left on this field." His voice was flat and absolute. "I want them dead in the next five minutes. Do you understand?"
The roar that answered him was immediate.
The troops surged forward.
Kairo watched them go, that same smile still sitting at the edge of his expression — wider now, less controlled than he would have preferred. He murmured something under his breath, too quiet for anyone to catch.
Shiri glanced sideways at him.
Then looked away.
"...Creepy idiot."
Nearby, a different kind of battle was being fought.
An entirely internal one.
(What do I do, what do I do, WHAT DO I DO—)
Fallon stood at the edge of the formation with her arms folded and her expression perfectly composed and her mind absolutely screaming.
(That green fool is having SO much fun!)
She watched Garth charge the Alpha — bleeding from four places, axe raised, grinning — and felt something in her chest pull toward the fight like a compass toward north. Her fingers twitched at her sides.
(I want to go in.)
She licked her lips.
(Young Master won't mind if I didn't follow orders... right? I mean technically he said hold position but he didn't specify for HOW long—)
She stopped herself.
Exhaled.
(No. No. Hold. You hold.)
She held.
Barely.
Garth swung.
The Alpha dashed.
That same blur — left, gone, reappearing directly in front of him this time — and launched into a tackle that should have put Garth flat on his back.
"That won't work twice—!"
He twisted at the last instant, taking the impact on his shoulder instead of his chest, and turned the stumble into a step — one hand shooting out and hammering the axe sideways into the Alpha's neck. One handed. His back screamed at the motion. The blow landed with a dull, heavy crack but the red veil absorbed most of it, and Garth staggered backward, the hit costing him more than it cost the beast.
The Alpha charged again.
Red slashes tore from its claws — three arcing lines of energy cutting through the air toward him. Garth moved — right, left — got past the first two cleanly. The third caught his hand.
The wound opened immediately. Deep. Hot.
Garth hissed through his teeth and kept moving.
"Four minutes!" Kairo's voice carried from behind the line.
Garth smiled at that — actually smiled — and drove forward with Iron Lunge, using the momentum to plant his boot directly on top of the Alpha's skull and push off, throwing the beast's head down. It recovered fast, snapping upward, and Garth barely got his axe up in time to catch the counter slash.
The impact rattled through his wounded hand like fire.
He activated Bone Grapple — fragments of hardened bone erupting along his forearm as he drove his fist straight into the Alpha's jaw. The beast's teeth closed on his hand before he could pull it back.
It clenched.
Garth screamed.
His free hand swung the axe down — not at the Alpha's body, but at its claw, the blade connecting with enough force to tear through. The beast snarled and released him. Garth stumbled back, hand burning, blood running freely down his fingers.
He gripped the axe with both hands anyway.
And brought it down on the Alpha's skull.
The impact was enormous — the sound of it rolling across the ruins like a thunderclap. Blood poured from the wound. The Alpha staggered.
And where its left eye had been — there was nothing now.
"Three minutes!"
"Come on then!" Garth raised one bloody hand, open-palmed, a clear and deliberate invitation. "Come on!"
The Alpha roared.
Its body began to glow — that same red light pulsing outward as the regeneration stirred again. The wound on its skull began to close —
Then stopped.
What formed in place of the missing eye was wrong. Malformed. A twisted, half-finished thing that pulsed weakly and went still.
Garth laughed — genuine, delighted.
"Look at that." He pointed at it. "You can only fully heal once, can't you. Everything after that—" He tilted his head. "Just duds."
He charged.
What followed was not clean. It was not strategic. It was two minutes of complete and mutual destruction — Garth throwing everything he had left at the Alpha, the Alpha returning every blow with interest, neither of them capable of finishing it, neither of them willing to stop. Blood marked the stone in wide, dark patches. Most of it was Garth's.
But not all of it.
The Alpha was slowing.
Barely. Incrementally. But it was there — a half-second of hesitation before each lunge that hadn't existed an hour ago, a slight drag in the back leg where Ham had driven his tusks deep in chapter eleven.
It was weakening.
"Two minutes!"
Behind the Alpha, hidden from every sight line, Jeeves watched with an expression that had shifted considerably from delighted to something considerably less comfortable.
"You mutt," he said quietly. The warmth was gone from his voice entirely. "What happened? Fight, you moron—"
The Alpha glowed brighter.
Garth charged again.
He never reached it.
The red claw came from the side — not a dash, not a telegraphed strike, just a sudden lateral sweep that opened the left side of Garth's stomach like a door. The wound was enormous. Immediately, catastrophically enormous.
Garth hit the ground.
The battlefield went quiet.
He lay on his side, one hand pressing uselessly against the wound, breath coming in short wet pulls. His axe was three feet away. The ground beneath him was darkening rapidly.
"Garth—!" Kairo's voice. Sharp. Unguarded.
Garth didn't hear it.
The Alpha turned away from him.
Slowly. Deliberately. It lowered its head toward Ham, who lay motionless on the stone — and began to move toward the boar with the unhurried certainty of something that knew it had already won.
"Rabbitmen — fire!"
Arrows cut through the air, dozens of them, striking the Alpha across its flank and back — and bouncing. Skidding. Lodging uselessly in the thick red-veiled fur without piercing through.
Ham made a sound.
High. Small. Frightened.
"Stop—" Garth's voice was barely audible. "Stop. Take me instead. Take my arm — take anything — stop—"
The Alpha didn't stop.
It lowered its jaws.
And bit down.
The sound was — wrong. The kind of wrong that embedded itself into memory and refused to leave. A wet, heavy crack. A squeal that built and built and then slowly, horribly, faded.
The chewing that followed was the worst part.
Garth lay on the ground and listened to it.
His face had gone completely still.
Then — from somewhere deep beneath the blood and the exhaustion and the damage that should have already killed him three times over — something erupted.
It started in his chest.
It came out of his throat.
"YOU BASTARD—"
He was on his feet.
Nobody saw him get up. One moment he was down, the next he was standing — axe in hand, wound in his side still pouring, body running entirely on something that had nothing to do with physical capability anymore.
"DIE—!"
Iron Lunge. Every last fragment of strength behind it. He left the ground — axe raised above his head, coming down like a verdict —
The Alpha's remaining eyes lit up.
All five of them.
A strange light enveloped Garth mid-air — cold and absolute — and his body simply stopped. Suspended. Locked. His expression didn't change. His grip on the axe didn't loosen.
Then he dropped.
He hit the ground hard and lay still, groaning, fingers scrabbling weakly against the stone. The axe was beside him. He could see it. His hand wouldn't close around it.
The Alpha approached slowly.
Garth raised his head.
Just his head.
He looked at the beast closing in above him, at the red veil pulsing around it, at Ham's motionless shape beyond it — and something in his expression settled into a place past fear, past pain, past any calculation of odds or outcomes.
He opened his mouth.
"Even if you eat me—" His voice was wrecked and completely certain. "—it won't matter! I will kill you! No matter what! Even if I have to poison you with my own meat!"
A pause.
"Come on then. Eat me, you bastard!"
The Alpha loomed above him.
"Now."
Kairo's voice. Quiet. Precise.
One word.
Suddenly, the earth erupted beneath the Alpha's feet.
It happened so fast that no one had time to react.
One moment the beast was lunging toward Garth, jaws wide and eyes burning with five points of crimson light. The next, the ground simply vanished. A deafening crack split the battlefield as the carefully prepared trap collapsed. The Alpha dropped like a stone, its massive body vanishing into the yawning pit with a roar that cut off into a sickening thud.
Garth froze, still on one knee, axe half-raised. His bloodied face twisted in pure shock.
"What…?"
Even Jeeves, hidden in the shadows behind the lines, was completely thrown. His usual smug composure shattered.
"What the hell?!" he shouted, stepping forward involuntarily. "Those fuc—"
A calm, cold voice cut him off from directly behind.
"What happened?"
Jeeves stiffened. He spun around too quickly, his face pale. Standing there in the dim light of the ruined hall was Leon. The lord's blond hair was barely visible in the darkness, but his eyes glowed with a sharp, eager red that demanded answers.
Jeeves stuttered, sweat breaking across his forehead. "Y-You see, my lord—"
He never finished the sentence.
Down on the battlefield, Theo broke into a sprint from the sidelines, dodging past exhausted troops. A few rabbitmen followed close behind him as he skidded to a stop at the edge of the massive hole.
He peered down.
The pit was deep, its walls lined with sharpened wooden stakes that had been driven into the earth days ago. At the bottom lay the Alpha, impaled in several places, dark blood coating the spikes and splattering the walls. The fall had been devastating.
From the network of tunnels branching out beneath the battlefield, movement erupted. Dozens of ratmen poured out, their small hands still caked with dirt from hours — maybe days — of silent digging. Alongside them came silver spiders, their metallic bodies glinting as they crawled up the walls and began spinning thick, shimmering webs over the fallen Alpha, rapidly binding its limbs and torso.
From the largest tunnel emerged Flint, the kobold warrior walking with calm confidence, twin axes resting in their holsters at his sides. Perched tiredly on his shoulder was Lilian, her massive hat tilted low over her dull eyes. She stretched her arms with a long, dramatic sigh.
"Finally!" she groaned. "Some fresh air!"
Theo's face lit up with pure delight. He waved both hands wildly in the air.
"Flint!"
The kobold looked up and grinned, raising one hand in return. "Did you have fun, kid? Didn't get hurt, did you?"
Theo laughed, relief flooding his voice. "Hey, witch girl! You okay too?"
Lilian just turned her head away and pouted, refusing to answer.
From further back, Fallon let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders finally relaxing as she pressed a hand to her chest.
(Well… it's over.)
(And it didn't even take my chance…)
A few steps away, Kairo stood motionless for a long moment. Then he exhaled deeply, the tension draining from his posture for the first time in what felt like hours.
"The Beast Tide Eradication Plan…" he said quietly, voice carrying just far enough for those nearby to hear, "…is finally over."
From the sidelines, Shiri crossed her arms and snorted.
"…What a crappy name."
To be continued.....