The Warlord's massive form hurtled towards them like a storm of shadows, shaking the very ground with each step. Marcus could feel the pressure in the air intensify, the weight of the darkness pressing down on him as if the very fabric of reality was bending to the Warlord's will.
His heart pounded in his chest, but there was no room for hesitation. "Kira, Lyra, spread out!" Marcus barked, gripping his sword tighter. "We need to draw it away from the villagers!"
Kira nodded and sprinted to the left, her arrows already drawn, while Lyra moved to the right, her hands glowing with radiant energy. The Warlord let out a bone-chilling roar, its eyes fixed on Marcus as if recognizing him as the heart of their resistance.
"Guardian, you will fall first," the Warlord growled, its voice like nails on glass. It swung one massive arm, sending a wave of shadow energy surging toward Marcus.
