The battlefield had descended into an unrelenting nightmare.
The haze of smoke continued to billow around them, thick and choking, obscuring all but the immediate vicinity.
Gerhardt and the remaining five mages, the sole survivors of what was once a formidable human force, stood shoulder to shoulder, their magical barriers flickering weakly with each desperate chant.
Fear gnawed at their hearts, their minds racing for answers against the onslaught they faced.
Then, the sound came again—whoosh!—sharp, piercing through the dull roar of the battlefield.
Another Orc was launched through the murky air, its body spinning like a ragdoll as it hurtled toward the cluster of mages.
The creature's eyes were wide with panic, its arms flailing uselessly. Yet, as it came into focus, its fear gave way to rage, and it raised its crude weapon mid-flight, targeting the nearest mage.
