Nate's heart pounded in his chest as he stood with Delta Squad at the forest's edge, the last echoes of the closing portal reverberating through the air. The city gate loomed in the distance. Harlan's voice cut through the din, authoritative and urgent. "To the gates! Now!"
The squad moved as one, their retreat a desperate push through the discordant symphony of snarls and snapping jaws.
"Keep tight, don't let them break our formation!" Harlan shouted over his shoulder, sword flashing as he cut down a leaping monster.
Nate's hand tightened around the hilt of his dagger. The air shimmered around him as he used his illusion magic, causing multiple copies of himself to spring into existence. Each illusion mimicked his movements, creating a disorienting maze of Nates that confused and diverted the encroaching horde.
"Focus on the real threats!" Nate called out to his comrades, slicing through the veil of deception to strike true.
As they fought their way back, Gwen remained steadfast behind him, her robes fluttering with the power of her wind magic. She sent gusts that turned into cyclones, scattering monsters like leaves in a storm.
"Watch your flank!" Gwen warned, her voice barely rising above the howling gales she conjured.
Nate pivoted, dagger slashing through scales and sinew. A creature, all teeth and malice, lunged at him from the confusion, only to be met with the cold bite of steel. Another fell to an illusion, its claws swiping futilely at empty air.
"Nice try," Nate grunted, a wry smirk twisting his lips despite the peril.
Together, they carved a path through the onslaught, each step toward the city gate purchased with grit and resolve. The monsters seemed endless, but so too was the determination of Delta Squad. Nate's illusions became more elaborate, more convincing, keeping the beasts at bay while his dagger found the vulnerabilities in those that dared come too close.
"Almost there!" Harlan yelled from the front, his voice a rallying cry that pierced the cacophony of battle.
Nate spared a glance at the gate, the symbol of their survival now within reach.
"Stay sharp!" Nate called out, his voice hoarse but unwavering, the leader within him refusing to succumb to fatigue or fear. "We're going to make it!"
With that resolute promise hanging in the air, Nate and Gwen unleashed a tempest of blade and breeze upon their foes, standing as bulwarks against the tide.
Amid the grating shrieks of monsters and the clanging steel of Delta Squad, a different kind of cry pierced the battlefield—a desperate, high-pitched scream that snagged Nate's attention. His emerald eyes, usually alight with mischief, now narrowed in focus. Through the throng of snarling creatures, he caught sight of a young noblewoman, her dark brown hair cascading with jewels that glinted in the fading light. Her mossy green eyes were wide with terror, reflecting the encroaching doom as she swung a broken sword at the beast before her.
"Damn it," Nate muttered under his breath. He couldn't just leave her. "I'll meet you guys at the gate!" he shouted to his comrades. With a swift hand gesture, a shimmering veil of illusion cloaked him from the eyes of nearby monsters. He darted through the chaos, the image of the distressed damsel etched in his mind fueling his urgency. Each step was measured, each breath calculated, as he wove between snapping jaws and lethal talons, unseen but not unchallenged.
As he drew near, the grim reality came into full view. Two lifeless guards lay at the girl's feet—a testament to their failed protection. The creature loomed over her, its gaping maw salivating in anticipation of the kill.
"Hey, ugly!" Nate shouted, revealing himself from the cloak of illusions with a flourish. The monster turned, confused, giving the noblewoman a brief reprieve. With a flick of his wrist, multiple copies of Nate sprang into existence, each one taunting the beast. It hesitated, disoriented by the sudden crowd of adversaries where there had been only one.
Nate seized the moment, lunging forward. His dagger flashed a dance of death, finding chinks in the monster's hide. With an agonized howl, it staggered backward, swiping at the illusions as they vanished into wisps of smoke.
"Come here!" Nate said, reaching for the noblewoman. Without ceremony, he hoisted her over his shoulder, ignoring the finery of her gown now smeared with dirt and blood.
"Unhand me, you brute!" the young woman protested, her voice shrill as she kicked against him. "Do you know who I am?"
"Someone who'll be monster chow if we don't move," Nate retorted, adjusting his grip on her squirming form. She didn't make for an easy carry, her struggles a distraction he could ill afford.
"Put me down! My father will hear of this indignity!" she continued, her outrage entirely out of place amidst the peril they faced.
"Tell him to send a thank-you note," Nate shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching upward despite the gravity of their situation. He dashed towards the city gate, his energy sapping with every step under the additional weight and strain of battle.
Nate's legs burned with the effort of sprinting, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he navigated through the maze of destruction. The noblewoman's weight bore down on him, her incessant squirming threatening to throw off his balance.
"Nearly there," he panted, more to himself than to her. He could feel the thrumming energy of his illusion magic at his fingertips, ready to deploy.
But fate, it seemed, had one more cruel jest in store. A monstrous silhouette emerged from the swirling dust, its towering form an undeniable barrier between Nate and salvation. The beast's eyes glinted with malicious intelligence, and its massive limbs flexed with the promise of violence.
"Damnation," Nate cursed under his breath. With a swift movement borne of necessity, he lowered the noblewoman to the ground, her eyes wide with fresh terror. "Stay behind me," he commanded, though he doubted she'd heed his words.
He focused, drawing upon his appraisal skill, and the creature before him shimmered into clarity. [Race: Gorgon Marauder, Weakness: Light Magic]. Nate's heart sank; his powers were ill-suited to fight this monster. Yet retreat was not an option.
"Come on, you ugly brute," he muttered, steeling himself as he conjured an array of dazzling illusions around them—phantom warriors to distract the Gorgon Marauder.
The creature roared, swiping at the air where the false figures danced. Nate seized the moment, lunging forward with his dagger, aiming for the soft tissue that his appraisal revealed. His blade struck true, but the monster was far from defeated.
Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision. He wiped it away with a bloodied forearm, every fiber of his being screaming for respite. But the Gorgon Marauder was relentless, battering against Nate's defenses with punishing blows.
A particularly vicious strike sent Nate sprawling to the ground, his dagger skittering away out of reach. The Gorgon Marauder loomed over him, raising its arm for a killing blow.
Time slowed. Nate braced for the end when suddenly, Harlan's figure burst through the melee. "Not today!" shouted the squad leader, his voice a rallying cry.
With a warrior's grace, Harlan intercepted the attack, his sword cleaving through the Gorgon Marauder's arm. The beast howled in agony, recoiling from the unexpected assault. Seizing the opening, Harlan pressed the advantage, his blade a silver flash in the dim light.
"Get up, Nate!" Harlan barked, even as he fought. "We're not done yet!"
Nate pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting every movement. He retrieved his dagger, and together with Harlan, they faced down the wounded monstrosity.
"Let's finish this," Nate growled, the remnants of his illusion magic sparking around him like a spectral aura.
With a final coordinated strike, they brought the Gorgon Marauder down, its titanic form crashing to the earth with a ground-shaking thud. They stood for a moment, panting and drenched in sweat and ichor, the sounds of battle around them fading into a distant roar.
"Move!" Harlan snapped, jolting Nate back to reality. They gathered the still-protesting noblewoman, her indignation unquelled by their near-death experience, and resumed their harried dash to the city gate.
As they crossed the threshold into the relative safety of the city, Nate felt the tension seep from his muscles, his injuries making themselves known now that the adrenaline had ebbed.
As Nate, Harlan, and the noblewoman neared the city gate, a palpable shift occurred. The cacophony of snarls and shrieks that had formed the monstrous symphony of their nightmare waned into sporadic bouts of silence. Nate's senses, heightened from the relentless fight for survival, registered fewer adversaries lurking in the shadows. The once overwhelming swarm of fiends now seemed to be retreating, their numbers dwindling like shadows at dawn. It was as if the very air had exhaled a sigh of relief.
"Look," Harlan said between heavy breaths, his voice cautiously optimistic. "The beasts are starting to retreat."
They continued to press forward, the noblewoman's earlier protests now subdued into quiet whimpers. With each step closer to the sanctuary of the city, Nate felt the weight of his exertions bearing down on him. His muscles protested with fiery lances of pain, his wounds cried out with every movement, and his vision began to swim in a sea of fatigue.
"Almost there," Harlan's voice reached him.
But his words, meant to encourage, felt distant, muffled by the throbbing in his head. The gate loomed before them, a towering edifice of safety, but to Nate, it might as well have been leagues away. His steps faltered, his balance wavered, and the world around him started to dim.
"Harlan..." he muttered, his voice trailing off as darkness crept along the edges of his vision.
"Stay with me, lad!" Harlan's hand clamped down on his shoulder, steadying him. But Nate could hardly feel it; he was drowning in darkness, the call of unconsciousness too seductive to resist.
With one final effort, he pushed himself through the archway of the gate, the sounds of battle behind them fading like a bad dream. Yet even as the cheers of the city's defenders greeted them, Nate's knees buckled. He collapsed onto the cold, hard cobblestones, the last glimpse of the world a blur of worried faces looming over him.
"Someone get the healers!" Gwen's voice pierced the encroaching void.
"Stay strong, Nate," Harlan urged, gripping his hand.
But the pull was too strong, and Nate succumbed, his consciousness slipping away like sand through an hourglass.