The three rode their horses slowly into a village, only to be greeted by a scene of devastation.
The village lay in ruins, with most of the houses collapsed into rubble.
Claw marks and deep cracks marred the mud walls, clear signs of destruction left behind by magical beasts.
The wind blew through, lifting pieces of broken wooden doors, creating a haunting sound that sent chills down their spines.
The ground was scarred with deep, heavy tracks, evidence of the beasts' rampage.
The dirt was mixed with dried blood, filling the air with the stench of decay and death.
White bones littered the area, carelessly scattered and left to bleach in the scorching sun, standing out starkly against the ruins.
The bones had long been stripped of flesh, so dry and brittle they seemed as if they might crumble into dust with the next gust of wind.
Among the bones were shattered remains, half-eaten, twisted beyond recognition—a chilling reminder of the brutality that had descended upon this place.
The ground was littered with the remnants of a fierce struggle.
The villagers had clearly tried to resist the beastly invasion, but their efforts were now nothing more than a futile memory.
Broken spearheads were lodged in the earth, shattered shields lay trampled into the dirt.
The courage once displayed here had long since faded, swallowed by time and disaster.
A sickening stench filled the air, thick and nauseating.
A few corpses, yet to fully decompose, rotted in the heat.
Above, crows circled the sky, their harsh cries echoing ominously.
Their black feathers gleamed in the sun, casting eerie reflections.
The birds would dive down and then circle again, as if taunting the pack of wild dogs below.
The dogs, clearly driven mad by hunger, prowled restlessly around the village.
Their ribs jutted out from their thin, mangy bodies, making them appear even more feral and vicious.
Each dog's fur was matted with dirt and dried blood, their eyes glowing with a ravenous, bloodthirsty intensity.
A few of the wild dogs growled lowly, circling a badly decomposed corpse.
Their teeth were bared, saliva dripping from their jaws, splattering onto the cracked earth beneath them.
Their movements were tense and watchful, ready at any moment to battle the circling crows for whatever scraps remained of the rotten body.
The entire scene was a grim display of survival amidst ruin, a harsh reminder of the violent world they lived in.
The stronger wild dogs began tearing at the remaining flesh on the corpse, producing a chilling sound of chewing.
At that moment, the arrival of Borne, Heywood, and Victor disrupted the eerie balance.
The wild dogs and crows, which had been fighting over the corpse, stopped their actions and turned their wary gazes toward the three newcomers.
As the three dismounted, the oppressive atmosphere intensified.
Standing among the scattered remains, Borne, Heywood, and Victor found themselves the focus of the wild dogs and crows, as if these living beings had suddenly become new prey.
Borne was the first to grip his war hammer tightly.
Standing on the right, he bent his knees slightly, his gaze sharp and cold as he locked eyes with the vicious wild dogs.
He could feel the hunger and bloodlust emanating from the beasts; they could launch a deadly attack at any moment.
Victor stood in the center, scanning his surroundings warily.
His longsword gleamed under the sun's light, casting a cold, metallic sheen.
His eyes remained fixed on every wild dog that approached, his breathing quickening slightly. His palms were already sweaty, yet his grip on the sword remained steady.
Heywood, gripping his long spear, stood on the left.
His eyes narrowed as he studied the pack of wild dogs before him.
The spear's tip glinted in the sunlight, creating an invisible threat that seemed to cut through the air.
The wild dogs growled softly, their heavy breathing filled the air with an unnerving sense of tension.
They slowly inched closer, their eyes filled with violent and bloodthirsty intent, baring their teeth with saliva dripping from their mouths.
The air was thick with the stench of rot and the tension of imminent danger, as if death itself was drawing nearer.
"Be ready," Heywood whispered, his voice calm but carrying a cold, resolute strength.
The three of them had formed a triangular formation that was both solid and maneuverable.
Their weapons overlapped in coverage, keeping every advancing wild dog within range of their attacks.
The dogs' growls deepened as they began to quicken their pace, preparing to charge.
Suddenly!
A large wild dog lunged toward Victor, its fangs glinting with a deadly shine as it aimed for his throat.
In that instant, Borne reacted swiftly. With a powerful push from his legs, he launched himself forward, his war hammer swinging with tremendous force.
The pointed end of Borne's war hammer struck the wild dog's skull with precision, emitting a dull thud.
The dog's mid-air leap came to an abrupt halt as blood sprayed in all directions.
The crimson liquid splattered across the ground and onto Borne's boots, as if adding a grim sense of vitality to the desolate village.
The dog's lifeless body crashed to the ground, twitching a few times before lying still.
Victor, still shaken, quickly recovered and nodded to Borne in thanks, tightening his grip on his sword, ready for the next wave of attacks.
But Borne's strike did not deter the remaining wild dogs; instead, it ignited their fury.
Several dogs let out low growls, their eyes bloodshot, and charged at the trio without hesitation.
Heywood's eyes were sharp, his grip on his spear tightening.
With swift precision, he thrust the weapon forward.
The spear's tip, glinting coldly, pierced through one of the charging dogs, pinning it to the ground.
The beast thrashed for a moment, blood gushing from the wound, and then lay still.
"Hold formation!"
Heywood shouted in a low voice, signaling Borne and Victor to stay alert and focused.
The air around them remained tense.
While the remaining wild dogs were still aggressive, they began to sense the threat posed by their prey.
They prowled at a distance, their eyes locked on the trio, jaws dripping with saliva, growling softly.
Borne gripped his war hammer tightly, his gaze never leaving the wild dogs.
The adrenaline from the battle quickened his heartbeat, but he remained calm and composed.
The three exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a shared resolve and understanding without the need for words.
Each knew the other's thoughts: they needed to end this fight swiftly; they couldn't afford to drag it out.
Just as the trio prepared to strike, a sudden, ear-piercing cacophony erupted from the sky.
The flock of crows above, seemingly stirred by the bloodshed and death, decided to join the fray.
Like a torrent of black, the crows swooped down from the sky, diving toward Borne, Heywood, and Victor.
The trio, caught off guard, found themselves in the midst of an aerial assault as the crows swarmed them, their sharp beaks and talons threatening to tear into them amidst the ongoing battle with the wild dogs.
Borne instinctively raised his war hammer, deflecting a few crows that swooped toward him.
Their sharp talons and beaks sliced through the air, aiming to tear into his face and arms.
The sheer number of crows caught him off guard, and he found himself swinging the hammer wildly, trying to fend off the black swarm.
"Damn these crows!"
Heywood cursed, frantically swinging his spear to fend off the diving birds.
Despite his swift movements, the sheer number of crows overwhelmed him.
They pecked furiously at his helmet and armor, their shrill cries filling the air.
Victor was forced to retreat a few steps, gripping his sword tightly as he slashed at the attacking crows.
His blade flashed silver as it cut through the air, severing the wings of several crows, sending them crashing to the ground.
But no matter how many fell, more crows kept coming, relentlessly assaulting the trio.
The wild dogs, emboldened by the chaos caused by the crows, launched their second attack.
Several dogs, jaws wide open, lunged toward the three men, seizing the opportunity while they were distracted by the crows.
Borne barely managed to swing his war hammer, smashing one of the leaping dogs to the ground, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw more closing in.
"We can't keep this up!" Victor shouted, his voice tense. "Cover me, now!"
Realizing they were running out of time, they had to act decisively, or they'd be overwhelmed by both the dogs and the crows.