Amid the chaos of the battlefield, the human forces were slowly beginning to regain their footing.
The clash of steel, bestial roars, and shouted orders echoed throughout the forest line.
Goran barked instructions to a few nearby soldiers, ordering them to take over his position in the defensive line. Then he broke away.
"I'm going to help Ryn!"
Gripping his massive axe, he charged through the swarm of Calami, cutting them down without pause as he forced his way forward.
Ryn still stood at the very front, serving as the shield for everyone behind him.
The enormous blade in his hands never stopped moving. Blood and shattered remains sprayed across the ground.
The magical barrier continued to envelop the front line, though it had begun to tremble under the relentless impact.
"Ryn!"
Goran shouted as he reached his side, swinging his axe into a Calami that lunged too close and sending it crashing to the ground.
"I'm here! You're not alone!"
Ryn merely nodded.
There was no time for words—his sword was still doing its work without rest.
Then—
"YAAAGH—!"
A shrill scream tore through the air from behind them.
It was too loud.
Out of place.
Something that should never be heard on a battlefield.
Dorian von Galatier.
The commander of this trial had charged into the fray himself.
His slender sword was raised high, as if he wanted everyone to see him.
Bernard, stationed on the right flank, stared in disbelief.
This wasn't the plan—
Originally, the first unit was supposed to hold the line and apply pressure, waiting for Ryn to falter before launching a full assault.
But now, Dorian had thrown himself straight into the front lines.
With no other choice, Bernard hurriedly signaled the left and right flanks to engage immediately.
At the same time, Alize led the female mages from the rear forward, unleashing supportive magic barrages.
However, their attacks were difficult to coordinate.
The dense trees and uneven terrain obstructed their vision.
Many spells had to be hastily adjusted mid-cast, their trajectories forced into awkward angles.
The entire force now surged into the battlefield in full formation,
each person carrying out their role with fierce determination.
Once Dorian entered the fray, he immediately began swinging his slender blade at the Calami .
In certain moments, his strikes were precise enough to cut them down one after another.
Though his movements were still somewhat clumsy, it was undeniable—
he did possess a measure of skill.
He forced his way through the swarm, pushing forward toward the position where Ryn was fighting.
Several soldiers began casting sideways glances at their commander.
The sight was both absurd and strangely surreal—
a leader who should have remained in the rear, now fighting on the front lines himself.
Yet amid the laughter, morale rose noticeably.
Dorian carved his way to the very front,
standing beside Ryn and Goran.
And then he began swinging his sword wildly.
Awkward.
Unrefined.
But overflowing with misplaced confidence.
Ryn glanced over at Dorian's long blade.
Unease immediately crept into his chest.
A standard longsword, even if not massive, should have a thick enough blade to withstand the repeated impacts of battlefield combat.
But Dorian's sword was far too thin—
less than half the proper width.
That kind of weapon…
was not meant for war.
It was nothing more than a decorative blade,
meant to look impressive—
meant to impress women.
Ryn tried to move closer, preparing to assist him.
But Dorian, in his current state, was paying attention to nothing else.
With every Calami that rushed in and fell beneath his blade,
his confidence swelled further.
Without realizing it, he began to push deeper beyond the front line.
The Calami continued to pour out of the cave without end.
And then—
A sinister presence seeped out from within the darkness of the cave.
Ryn felt it before anyone else.
"Goran!"
Ryn shouted, his eyes locked on the cave entrance.
Goran, who was still hacking away with his axe, turned and shouted back,
"What is it?!"
"A bear… can you handle one?!"
Ryn yelled at the top of his lungs.
Goran followed his gaze—and his eyes widened in shock.
At the cave entrance—
three Calami Maulers had emerged.
For a split second, Goran froze.
But Ryn did not wait for an answer.
He charged forward immediately—because if he hesitated for even a heartbeat—
Dorian would die.
The three Maulers split up, each rushing in a different direction.
One headed straight for the right flank, where Goran stood his ground.
The other two charged toward the front line—
toward Ryn and Dorian.
Soldiers and mages alike panicked at the Maulers' sudden appearance.
Bernard barked orders at once.
"Mages, fire!"
Spells were unleashed to slow their advance—
but only managed to hinder them slightly.
The dense forest made aiming difficult,
and the three Maulers kept charging forward without slowing down.
Goran, despite this being his first real battle,
fought with unexpected bravery and skill.
He met the Mauler head-on, showing no fear at all.
His massive axe was used both offensively and defensively, clashing violently with its razor-sharp claws.
The sound of metal crashing against metal rang out again and again.
As for Ryn—
He sprinted straight toward the other two Maulers
that were charging at Dorian.
Just before their enormous claws could strike,
Ryn raised his sword and blocked the attack.
The impact made the ground beneath his feet tremble—
but he held his ground.
"Your sword can't cut it!"
Ryn shouted at Dorian.
"Fall back first!"
"Don't you dare order me around!"
Dorian snapped back with absolute confidence.
"I can handle this easily!"
When he finished speaking, Dorian broke away and ran off in another direction—
even as Ryn was still holding the Mauler in front of him at bay.
"Don't—! Come back, Lord Dorian!"
Ryn shouted at the top of his lungs.
But it was already too late…
Ryn gathered every ounce of strength he had, drove his blade straight into the Mauler's heart, and wrenched it upward with ruthless force.
The massive body collapsed instantly, life snuffed out in a heartbeat.
Ryn turned toward Dorian—
Too late.
The final Mauler stood before him, alone.
Dorian raised his unnaturally thin longsword, his face still brimming with confidence, and slashed straight at the creature's chest.
Crack!
The sound of shattering metal rang through the battlefield.
The sword in Dorian's hand exploded into fragments.
But the Mauler—
didn't even have a scratch.
His confidence vanished in an instant.
Reality hit.
And fear took its place.
Dorian's body trembled, his eyes wide as he stared at the black harbinger of death looming before him.
In the next second—
The Mauler's claws tore through the air and struck his head with brutal force.
Dorian's body collapsed.
His head was severed, flying through the air before hitting the ground—lifeless.
Ryn arrived…
Too late.
Rage erupted within him.
He lunged at the Mauler, drove his sword straight into its skull, and ripped upward with all his might.
Its head split in two.
The colossal body crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud.
The battle dragged on for a while longer—
until, at last—
This war
came to an end.
Ryn stood in silence, staring at Dorian's lifeless corpse for a moment.
Then he let out a long breath, turned away, and walked off without a word.
Bernard and Divine began inspecting the battlefield, counting the wounded and the dead.
The results were clear—
Many soldiers and mages were injured.
But not a single one had died.
Except for one.
And that one—
was the commander of the army himself.
The news cast a heavy silence over the entire force.
As the highest-ranking officer remaining, Bernard immediately ordered the mission to be canceled—
and commanded the troops to withdraw,
establishing a temporary camp near the edge of the forest.