The witches and wizards hissed in unison, their eyes narrowing as they watched the blood flow into the dome, swirling in a dark, ominous pool. One of them raised a hand, and the air around the forest became thick and heavy with malevolence. The chanting of "drink blood, drink blood" echoed louder, vibrating through the trees. Suddenly, a loud rustle came from the edge of the clearing. Marcus, hiding behind a large tree, watched in horror as the ritual reached its climax. His heart beat aloud in his chest, every instinct screaming at him to run, but he remained still, observing. He could see the possessed humans moving in a trance-like state, their eyes glazed over, while the witches and wizards controlled them like puppets. The leader of the monks, defiant about his decision to strike, whispered to the rest," Now is our chance. If we wait, it will be too late. Without further hesitation, he gestured for the attack. Marcus clenched his fists, silently cursing under his breath. He knew they were walking into a death trap, but his voice of caution had been ignored. As the monks launched forward, their magic flared brightly in the night, sending bolts of energy towards the possessed and their dark masters. The witches and wizards, startled at first, quickly retaliated. They chanted in a language Marcus could not understand, and their dark magic collided with the monks' spells in a brilliant display of light and shadow. The clearing became a battlefield of chaotic energy. The possessed humans, under the control of the witches, turned violent, charging at the monks with unnatural strength, claws tearing at flesh, teeth gnashing through the skin. Marcus, seeing the carnage unfold, realized the battle was hopeless. His fellow monks were being overwhelmed, and the power of the six dark witches and wizards was far greater than they had anticipated. Amid the chaos, Marcus shouted, Retreat! We must fall back! The monks, struggling to hold their ground, heard Marcus' command. Those who could still move began to fight their way out, but many were already lost, their bodies strewn across the forest floor. Marcus used his magic to shield a few of the monks as they fled, casting spells to ward off the possessed attackers. The witches and wizards hissed in unison, their eyes narrowing as they watched the monk's struggle against the overwhelming tide of possessed warriors. Dark energy crackled around them, the air thick with tension. One of the witches, her pale face illuminated by the flickering flames of their ritual, stepped forward, her voice dripping with malice. You dare to challenge us here, on our sacred ground? She snarled. "Fools." With a wave of her hand, a surge of dark magic exploded from the circle, slamming into the remaining monks. The force was so great that it sent them sprawling, their protective spells flickering and fading under the sheer power of the witches' attack. Marcus, gasping for breath, pulled himself up, his eyes darting around the chaotic battlefield. The possessed, their eyes glowing with unnatural light, advanced again, relentless and feral. Marcus knew they had no chance of surviving another assault. Desperation gnawed at him, but he couldn't leave his comrades behind. We need to retreat! He shouted again, his voice hoarse. "Fall back, now!" But before he could move, one of the wizards hovering above him raised his staff, dark energy swirling around the tip. With a cold smile, he pointed it at Marcus. You will not leave this place alive, the wizard hissed, unleashing a beam of dark magic straight at him. As the beam of dark magic shot toward Marcus, his instincts kicked in. With a quick movement, he conjured a protective barrier using a spell he had learned at the temple. The dark energy clashed against his shield, but the force sent him staggering backwards. Gritting his teeth, Marcus turned to the few monks still standing. Retreat! Marcus commanded. "We can't fight them here." The remaining monks, bruised and bloodied, scrambled to his side. Together, they flee through the dense forest, dodging the relentless attacks of the witches and wizards. The dark energy crackled behind them, but Marcus used every ounce of his training to protect his group, casting defensive spells as they ran. The possessed drink-blood walkers pursued them with wild, bloodthirsty shrieks, but Marcus led his companions deeper into the forest, toward a hidden path known only to the monks. His heart beat loudly in his chest as he heard the ominous chants of the witches growing fainter behind them. Finally, after what felt like hours of running, they managed to find a temporary refuge near a small cave on the outskirts of the forest. Panting and exhausted, Marcus collapsed against a rock, looking around at the few who had survived with him. "We lost too many tonight," he whispered, his face pale with grief. But we have to warn the temple. The witches and wizards are more powerful than we thought. One of the surviving monks, a young man with wide, fearful eyes, nodded. We can't fight them like this. We need a new strategy, or we're all doomed. Marcus nodded in agreement. We'll regroup, learn from this, and come back stronger. This fight is far from over.
Marcos' frustration had grown with each failed attack. The monks had fortified themselves with every magic spell they knew, yet each assault on the witches' camp in Hollow Creek ended in disaster. The dark forces seemed to grow stronger with each encounter, their blood-drinking followers becoming nearly unstoppable. It was in this growing despair that Marcos realized their current power wasn't enough. They needed something greater, something ancient. Determined, Marcos distanced himself from the special squad and dove deep into the archives of ancient monk magic. For days, he poured over manuscripts, scrolls, and spell books, searching for a solution. One evening, while flipping through an old and nearly forgotten tome, his fingers brushed over a set of symbols that sent a chill through him. These words were strange and foreign, unlike anything he had seen before. His instincts told him that this was important, crucial even. Without wasting a moment, he took the book to the temple's magic book guardian, an elder monk named Magnus, who had safeguarded their knowledge for decades. When Marcos showed him the symbols, Magnus' eyes narrowed. He immediately recognized the ancient script. This is the language of the ancients, Magnus muttered, retrieving a dusty old translator from his shelf. After a few tense moments of translating, Magnus read aloud, his voice heavy with meaning: The power of light can defeat darkness. The power dwells on Somalia Island. Magnus looked up from the translation, locking eyes with Marcos. This is no ordinary discovery. The power of light holds the key to defeating the witches and wizards.
Marcos' heart raced with a new sense of urgency. The power of light could be the key to defeating the witches, wizards, and their bloodthirsty followers. He had always believed that there was more to their ancient teachings than what they had uncovered so far, but now he had proof. I need to visit Somalia Island, Marcos said firmly, his voice filled with determination. Magnus nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the task ahead. The journey will not be easy. Somalia Island is not just a place. It is a battleground of ancient forces. Few who seek its power ever return. I have no choice, Marcos replied. We've lost too many monks, and if we don't act soon, the witches will overrun Hollow Creek. I will take this risk. Magnus handed him the translated book. You must be prepared for what lies ahead. The power of light is not easily wielded, and you will have to face many trials before it is yours. Marcos accepted the book, feeling the gravity of the mission sink in. But in his heart, he knew there was no turning back. The monks' survival and the fate of Hollow Creek depended on his success. As he left Magnus' chamber, Marcos felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. He gathered his supplies, informed his squad that he would be gone for an indefinite period, and set off on the perilous journey to Somalia Island, where the ancient battle between light and darkness awaited him.