– If you want my head, try to take it!
An icy chill ran down the players' spines at Ankela's words. No one expected the Wolf King to be a sentient creature capable of speaking in human language. His voice wasn't just thunder—it was a roar of rage and pain that resonated in the players' hearts, as if awakening their darkest fears.
– He... he spoke! – one of the gamers shouted, his voice trembling with terror.
The forest seemed to close in around them, as if the ancient trees, disturbed by the noise of the battle, were trying to separate themselves from what was happening. The wind carried the smell of decaying leaves, mingling with the metallic scent of blood, filling their lungs with bitterness and fear.
Ankela's howl made the wolves freeze for a moment, as if he was giving them a command, and then they charged again with renewed vigor.
– This is not just a beast – said William, gripping his sword hilt tighter – This is a real opponent.
Fatigue weighed down their bodies, but fear for their own lives and the frenzy of knowing that this battle might be their last drove them to desperate attacks.
With each step that brought them closer to Ankela, the wolf pack grew fiercer. It seemed even the air in the forest thickened, heavy with a shroud of fear and smoke, making it hard to breathe.
The wolves' eyes glinted with wild fury, and each of their steps was filled with anticipation. Some of them, instead of rushing forward immediately, crouched down, savoring the sight of frightened fighters before pouncing.
The wolves descended upon the players like a dark tide, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust, their jaws filled with insatiable hunger. But the mages, warriors, and archers acted as a unified army, breaking the waves of enemies and holding the line.
– Mages, support us with fire! – Grizzard shouted, cutting down another wolf with his blood-soaked axe.
Like rain of fire and thunder, spells fell upon the wolves, lighting up the forest with explosions of light. The flames eagerly devoured those who didn't manage to dodge, and lightning cracked through the air, shattering the sound of silence, creating barriers of flame and light around the players.
The archers unleashed another volley; arrows fell upon the enemies like rain, holding back the pack's advance. Each fight lasted only a moment but felt like an eternity, and each slain wolf brought not only experience but the chance to grow stronger, recover, and gain new abilities.
Ankela watched from above, his eyes blazing brighter as he saw the humans breaking through the ranks of his subjects. Their persistence stirred both anger and a strange admiration within him. But the closer the contenders got to him, the more intense the pressure felt—as if the very space around the Wolf King was slowing their movements.
– Your determination is admirable – Ankela growled, rising to all fours. His massive body moved smoothly and unyieldingly, like a mountain rock rolling down a slope – But against me, you don't stand a chance!
At those words, the pack attacked with double the fury.
– Don't give up! They're not invincible! – William yelled, his voice shaking, but he held onto his sword hilt, continuing to fend off attacks.
His muscles ached with fatigue, and with each swing of his sword, his arms grew heavier. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down and leaving a salty taste on his lips.
– We need to unite and act as one! – Fenri added, casting a spell to slow down the wolves around them.
Commands kept coming, and the contenders coordinated their actions with even greater precision. They understood that victory was only possible with complete cohesion.
Chaos engulfed the battlefield like wild fire, but amidst this frenzy, there was a shadowy harmony—as if an invisible hand was guiding the fighters, forcing them to act in unison.
The players moved forward in a wedge, breaking through the wolves' ranks towards Ankela. As they drew closer to the Wolf King, the assault from the enemies intensified, and the players' line stretched into an arc.
The arc was divided into three sections: the center, where William's and Grizzard's teams advanced; the right flank led by Fenri; and the left flank, where Isabelle and several other squads tried to hold off the wolves.
When they almost reached Ankela, the Wolf King, spotting a weak spot on the left flank, rushed there, eager to tear through their defenses. His massive body collided with the players' line, scattering them, and the wolves surged after him, eager to exploit the breach.
– Hold your ground, don't let him through! – William shouted, seeing the threat. He and his team immediately rushed to close the gap, aiming to encircle Ankela.
Each of Ankela's movements was like a hammer blow: his claws dug into the ground, tearing up clumps of dirt and revealing black tree roots. His fangs gleamed in the light of the spells, ready to sink into the flesh of anyone who dared to get too close.
Ankela howled, his voice drowning out the sounds of battle, overflowing with anger and strange admiration.
– You pathetic humans! Do you think you can kill me? I'll tear you to pieces! – his voice boomed like thunder, piercing the players' hearts.
But the players didn't waver. Grizzard's team engaged the King, joined by elites from other squads. Isabelle leaped into the fray, her blades flashing in the spell-lit night, delivering quick and precise strikes.
Every spell, like a furious flare, burst through the air, filling the forest with radiance and thick smoke. Lightning struck the grass, setting it ablaze, and fireballs left burning trails, illuminating the bloody scenes around them.
– Come on, surround him! Hold the circle! – William commanded, his sword glowing with magical light as he struck with powerful blows.
– Get that monster, hit him hard! – Grizzard joined in, swinging his axe and landing blow after blow.
Every second felt like an eternity as the players struggled to keep Ankela encircled. Each time someone failed to dodge his strike, the others froze for a moment, watching life drain from their comrade's body before plunging back into the fight.
Ankela lashed out within the encirclement, his claws ripping the ground as his body sustained more and more wounds. His fierce eyes blazed with anger as he attempted to break free from the circle.
– You worthless insects! – Ankela roared, furiously bashing against the tanks who blocked his path.
Ankela's voice, rough and menacing, seemed to come from the depths of the forest, creeping into the soul and paralyzing their will. Every time he spoke, it felt as if his words turned into thunderous roars, deafening the fighters and causing the ground beneath them to tremble.
– I'll devour you all! You're nothing before me!
However, every attempt to break free was met with a wall of shields and spells.
The tanks didn't forget to shield the mages, forming a living wall of shields to protect them while casting. Archers from behind the warriors released arrows, aiming at Ankela's eyes and joints to weaken and disorient him.
Spells rained down from the heavens like divine wrath: fireballs scorched the air, leaving trails of ash, and ice spears stabbed into the ground, covering it with frost.
Experienced fighters, hardened in countless raids, acted in unison like a finely tuned machine. Every step, every swing of the sword or cast spell was calculated as part of a single plan.
They were veterans of countless raids and knew their roles well. Mages hurled spells, clerics healed and reinforced allies, and the warriors and druids held off Ankela's attacks, acting as a living shield.
Druids, transformed into giant bears, became even more aggressive, biting and tearing into Ankela's flesh with claws, trying to slow his movements. They coordinated with the tanks, who blocked his escape routes.
A puppet mage sent his marionettes to distract Ankela, directing them to his paws to hinder his speed. The metallic figures moved skillfully, jumping over his claws and aiming for his belly.
On the outer ring, Fenri coordinated the defense against Ankela's wolf followers. Supreme Alpha wolves tried to break through their line, but Fenri's strategy proved effective. Holding the onslaught and constantly taking down wolves, players leveled up and were now handling the new wave more easily.
Waves of healing magic and buffing spells washed over the battlefield, enabling players to keep fighting despite fatigue and wounds.
– Tanks, hold the line! Archers, don't let them get too close! – Fenri shouted, his spells blocking the most dangerous attacks.
– We can't retreat! Forward, to victory! – a mage shouted, his voice filled with fury and resolve. He cast a spell with such power that his hands smoked, and the ground cracked beneath him.
– Crush them! – one of the warriors joyfully slashed through dozens of wolves.
In the center of the fight, Ankela grew even more furious. He attempted to lunge at one of the tanks again but was pushed back by Grizzard's strike, followed by a slashing blow from Isabelle, her dagger piercing the King's side.
– You... – Ankela's rage reached its peak – You dare challenge me? I'll burn your hope, tear your bodies, and erase the memory of you from this world! – his roar filled the air, and it seemed the forest trembled with his fury.
The fighters' cries mingled with Ankela's roar, creating a cacophony of sounds that reverberated across the battlefield, deafening many and causing the ground beneath them to quiver. The smell of blood mixed with charred flesh and smoke filled the air, making each breath a challenge.
Isabelle moved like a shadow, striking swiftly. Her blades found their mark again and again, evading Ankela's massive claws with ease.
– You're not as strong as you think, Ankela – she whispered, her eyes blazing with determination.
– Damn you! – Ankela roared, trying to catch her, but his movements slowed, weighed down by wounds and binding spells cast by the mages.
Ankela realized he was caught in a trap crafted by humans. Every time he tried to break free, he was met with resistance, and even when he managed to knock some of them back, others quickly took their place. He thrashed and lunged, but the players moved around him like relentless shadows, not giving him a moment to focus.
Fireballs exploded with a deafening roar, scorching the earth. Ice spears pierced Ankela's flesh, their frost creeping up his limbs and chilling even the players nearby. The cold gnawed at their bones, and burns seared their skin, yet they pressed on.
The battlefield seethed like a boiling cauldron, filled with cries, clashing steel, and the groans of the wounded. It seemed the very earth groaned under the weight of the fight, and the shadows of ancient trees loomed over them, as if watching the outcome of this brutal battle.
The sounds of battle, howls, and roars tore through the air. The smell of blood and smoke filled every path. Bodies of wolves and fallen players lay scattered, a harsh reminder of the mercilessness of this fight.
The tempo of the battle shifted. Ankela, like a predator stalking its prey, began to anticipate the fighters' moves, adapting to their attacks. His claws now struck with precision, his blows landing with savage certainty. His movements became more calculated, his wounds closing quickly—his regeneration was stronger than the players had anticipated.
At first, the fight seemed like a storm—attacks flew back and forth, but gradually the pace changed. Ankela became more deliberate, as if searching for a weakness in their defense, while the fighters slowed, trying to avoid mistakes.
William noticed Ankela's wounds healing before his eyes. He gritted his teeth and shouted:
– Scourge priests, suppress his regeneration! Without that, we can't stop him! – William's voice was strained, breaking into a hoarse shout.
– Pathetic humans, come closer! – Ankela roared, his movements slowed under the constant attacks, yet his voice still held an ominous threat.
– Attack! He's getting tired too! – shouted one of the players, and his words were met with a roar from the others.
The battle grew even fiercer. Each player understood this was their last chance to survive. Their eyes blazed with desperate determination, the fear of defeat heavy in their hearts. They struck in sync, working to maintain the encirclement. Each fought not only for victory but for survival.
The situation grew more dire. Deep cuts and tears covered Ankela's body; bloody streams flowed down his sides, staining the earth a dark crimson. Yet, despite the agony and blood loss, he kept moving like a cornered beast, his bones visible through deep gashes.
However, the players also suffered heavy losses—they had already lost twenty elite fighters and many regular team members. Only the quick intervention of others prevented the battle from descending into total chaos.
Every blow Ankela landed left bloody marks. Players fell under his attacks, their screams echoing across the field. Bones shattered, skin tore, yet they rose again, hoping to slow his fury just a little.
Fatigue was taking over. Some fighters could barely stand but continued to fight, despite the throbbing pain in their arms and the sting of sweat in their eyes. Desperation blazed in their hearts, driving them forward as their strength waned.
– Aaaah!
As Ankela tore apart another fighter, a nearby mage screamed in rage and pain. He cast a spell with such force that his hands began to smoke, and the ground beneath him cracked.
– Hold on! This is the key to victory! – William and Grizzard fought until their eyes were bloodshot, and their voices hoarse. They gave everything to lift the spirits of their comrades.
At that moment, Ankela went berserk. His body was engulfed in a bright red light, like flames, igniting a fierce rage in his eyes. His strength and speed doubled, and each attack became deadly. Even the most experienced fighters struggled to keep up with his movements.
A loud crash sounded as Ankela's claw swipe reduced a powerful player to a bloody mess. A flash of electricity shot from his tail, covering the field and scorching everything in its path, as if nature itself bent to his fury.
– This is his second phase! We've almost got him! – one of the fighters shouted.
– Keep attacking! Hit him! – cries erupted as the chaos on the battlefield reached its peak. The fight became unbearably brutal: the Wolf King was wreaking havoc, and the fighters, barely holding on, plunged into despair.
The situation was deteriorating rapidly. Each time he tore apart another opponent, horror gripped the rest. Even the bravest began to lose confidence, their cries becoming more desperate.
Grizzard and William felt a chill of despair wash over their hearts. This was their last chance—all or nothing. They had to risk everything to stop the relentless King.
During previous battles with the two Supreme Alpha wolves, they had obtained two powerful one-time-use artifacts, which they had saved as a last resort. Now, with the situation at its most dire, it was time to unleash their power.
– Hold him back! – shouted one of the tanks, but the Wolf King was unstoppable. He slipped through every restraint as if he were a demon, each time finding weak spots in their defense.
– Aaaaah!
William and Grizzard exchanged glances, their eyes filled with desperation and resolve. Friends fell around them under Ankela's savage attacks, and time seemed to slow as they realized this was their final chance. Their hands trembled, but they clenched their teeth, ready to risk everything.
– Grizzard! We have no choice. We must use the artifacts. It's all or nothing, – William said, his voice shaking with tension.
– Agreed, – Grizzard nodded.
They pulled out two ancient artifacts from their inventories. William held the Sea Slayer Harpoon, and Grizzard the Pilum of Doom—both radiating ancient power capable of shattering any enemy.
As William and Grizzard took hold of the artifacts, they began to glow in their hands, filling the air with a crackling energy. The power of ancient magic surged through their bodies, causing a slight dizziness and a buzzing in their ears, as if nature itself responded to the awakening of these relics.
These single-use items, usable only once, were so powerful they could tear an enemy apart, but once used, their power would be lost forever. This was the final moment they had saved them for.
– Limit his movement!
– Magic chains! – William shouted, and over a hundred mages wove spells. Magical chains, glowing like snakes of light, pierced Ankela, binding him and forming a magical net that anchored to the ground. But Ankela broke the restraints one by one, even as they were immediately replaced by new ones.
– Do you think you can catch me?! I am the hunter, not the prey! – his voice echoed across the battlefield, filling the air with savagery.
Despite Ankela's fierce resistance, his movements began to slow. This was their chance.
– Throw them together! – Grizzard commanded.
William and Grizzard coordinated their actions and hurled the artifacts with stunning precision. The harpoon struck Ankela's chest with a thunderous impact, piercing his flesh, while the pilum hit with such force that its magical light tore through his body, leaving a gaping wound in his belly. The very ground trembled from the impact.
Ankela's body shook under the assault. Broken and bloodied, he fell to his knees, his heavy, labored breathing reduced to a wheeze. His claws dug into the ground, carving deep furrows as if he was clinging to life. For a moment, the entire battle froze.
– Guh... Cong...rats... hunters... – Ankela rasped, his voice weakening, his body succumbing to the ancient magic's force.
He let out one last howl, filled with a mix of pain and rage. His claws dug deeper into the earth, as if still trying to defy his fate. His body shuddered, as if the magic was tearing him apart from within, and even the fierce gleam in his eyes began to fade. The strength that once seemed boundless now flickered like a flame on the verge of extinction.
Ankela's fierce gaze dimmed, his breaths shallow and ragged. The forest, bowing to the fall of its King, sank into solemn silence, and even the wind stilled, as if unwilling to disturb the fallen ruler's peace. The ground beneath the fighters trembled, as if feeling the weight of what had been endured, and their hearts skipped a beat, sensing the end of this merciless battle.
The wolves, leaderless, began to scatter, no longer daring to continue the fight.
With Ankela's fall, the seemingly unstoppable threat was finally removed. Most of the wolf packs had been annihilated or gravely wounded, and the battle, which could have ended in disaster, had come to a close.
Several fighters, barely able to stand, collapsed to their knees, their weapons slipping from weakened hands. They looked around at the bodies of fallen comrades and wolves, understanding the heavy price of this victory. The mages rushed to heal the wounded, their hands glowing, though their faces were shadowed with exhaustion.
Bloodied, sweaty, and covered in grime, the fighters stood, breathing heavily, as if they had just escaped death's grasp. Each breath felt like a triumph over their own weakness, and they exchanged glances, unable to believe that it was finally over.
In front of them, a screen flickered, signaling the end of the first round of the trials.
First round complete.
As the screen appeared, announcing the completion of the first round, a wave of relief washed over everyone, like calm after a long storm. It wasn't just a sign of victory but a confirmation that they were still alive. The weight of the battle still lay on their shoulders, but knowing they had survived gave them strength.
However, immediately after, another message appeared:
Prepare for the second round.