"Sever, huh," Nyx thought, his sword clashing relentlessly against the Orc Warden's spear. Sparks flew with every strike.
'I wonder if skills could manifest through practice in The Real World.' Nyx thought
A sly grin formed on his lips. "Alright," he said aloud, his voice cutting through the chaos. "I think it's about time to finish my part."
The Orc Shaman, sensing a shift in the atmosphere, narrowed its eyes, its posture growing more guarded.
Nyx's sword, worn from the ceaseless exchanges, finally shattered upon meeting the Orc Warden's spear. The shards scattered in every direction, and Nyx's movement turned fluid, deliberate. He lashed out with his foot, kicking a jagged shard straight toward the Orc Shaman.
The shard hurtled through the air,unexpectedly, however before it could reach its mark, the Orc Guardian intercepted it, raising its arm. The shard embedded itself into the Guardian's flesh, blood trickling down its forearm.
The Shaman's grin widened in mocking amusement, realizing the hidden attack had failed.
"Slapped by the mountain, pelted by the rain," Nyx said, his tone calm yet cryptic.
The Shaman's grin faltered slightly, its eyes narrowing in confusion.
"Not many know this phrase," Nyx continued, a faint smirk curling his lips. "But wouldn't you look at that… you're all lined up perfectly." His gaze shifted to the Orc Guardian, standing directly in front of the Shaman.
A low, guttural roar echoed across the battlefield. "RWAOOAR!!"
The Shaman's mocking smile vanished, replaced by a look of horror. A massive shadow engulfed the Orcs, their heads turning upward.
It wasn't the Wyvern.
Looming above them was the massive silhouette of the crumbling old tower.
Nyx's plan had succeeded. Through precise movements and relentless pressure, he had drawn the fight between himself and the Orc Warden out of the tower's line of collapse while keeping the Shaman's focus entirely on him.
Flashback
Grall lifted Flora into his arms, her frail body trembling. She clung to him weakly as they moved away from the scene.
"And what about me?" Viscount Wellian asked, his voice shaky.
"Just stay there," Nyx replied coldly, unsheathing his sword. The sharp metallic rasp cut through the tension, drawing everyone's attention.
"Lord!" Grall shouted, panic lacing his voice. "The horses!"
Nyx's gaze didn't waver as Grall scanned the area, his expression darkening. "They're gone!" Grall exclaimed in dismay.
Nyx turned to Viscount Wellian, his voice calm yet commanding. "You know what, Viscount? I've got a job for you—or rather, your pet."
"M-My pet?" Viscount Wellian stammered.
Nyx's smirk deepened. "When I'm out of the tower's range, use your Wyvern to bring it down."
The Viscount's face turned pale. "Make it fall? Are you talking about the tower?"
Nyx didn't answer, his silence speaking volumes.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" the Viscount muttered as the realization dawned.
Moments later, the Wyvern stood beside the ancient tower. Its massive claws dug into the ground as it prepared for its task. The battlefield roared with chaos, the swarm of Orcs obscuring sightlines. Neither the Orc Shaman nor its forces detected the looming threat.
The Viscount, addressing his Wyvern, spoke softly. "Alright… we need to push this thing down."
The Wyvern, loyal and intelligent, understood the command. With a guttural growl, it raised its claws and began hammering against the tower. The impact reverberated through the air, muffled by the noise and cries of the ongoing nearby battle.
Each strike weakened the ancient structure, chunks of stone crumbling as the Wyvern continued its assault.