As dawn broke over Eldemor, a faint glimmer of relief settled over the village, but Raymond knew it was fleeting. The night had been long and tense, and though the first wave of wolves had been pushed back, he could sense they hadn't truly retreated. The villagers were exhausted, their faces drawn and weary, and Raymond knew he had to prepare them for another potential attack. Still, it was morning, and they needed rest. He began encouraging some of them to go and get what sleep they could, while he stayed on guard.
"Everyone, take a break if you can," he called out, his voice steady but firm. "Get some sleep; we'll need you all at full strength if they return."
The villagers exchanged hesitant glances. For many, the thought of resting after a night like this was difficult. They didn't want to leave the defenses. But Garrick and Elena, whom the villagers looked up to, began ushering people toward their homes, assuring them they'd stand guard.
Sonya, however, lingered, her brows furrowed as she approached Raymond. "You're sending them to rest, but what about you? You didn't sleep on the way here, and you haven't closed your eyes all night either."
Raymond gave her a reassuring nod. "I'll take a shift soon, I promise," he replied, keeping his tone calm. "I'm used to staying alert after battles, and I want to make sure everyone else is safe first."
But Sonya didn't look convinced. She crossed her arms, her expression stubborn. "You said you slept while I was resting on the way here, but I didn't believe you then, and I don't believe you now," she said quietly, so only he could hear. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
Raymond inwardly sighed. He could see her genuine concern and was grateful for it, but he knew he couldn't give her the real answer—that his lack of need for rest wasn't exactly by choice. As an undead, he simply didn't require sleep like she did, though he couldn't tell her that.
"I appreciate your concern," he said gently. "But believe me, I've done this many times before. Just trust me on this one."
Sonya gave him a long, scrutinizing look, clearly still worried but deciding not to press further. She placed a hand on his armored shoulder, her grip firm. "Fine," she relented, "but you'd better keep that promise. And if I find out you're still here when I get back, I'm dragging you to rest myself."
Raymond chuckled, giving her a mock salute. "Understood, partner."
With a reluctant sigh, Sonya finally stepped away to rest, casting one last glance over her shoulder as if making sure he was still standing strong. He watched her go, feeling a strange pang of guilt for not being able to be completely honest with her. Her concern was genuine, and while he appreciated it, he knew there was no easy way to explain his undead nature—or why he could keep going without sleep.
As the village settled into a momentary calm, Raymond turned back to his silent vigil, his gaze sweeping over the barricades and the tree line beyond. He felt the cool morning breeze against his armor, but he knew it was only a brief respite.
As the village lay in silence, with its defenders catching much-needed rest, Raymond kept his solitary watch. The sun had risen higher, casting a pale light over Eldemor, but his instincts kept him vigilant. He was right to stay alert. Out in the distance, a familiar sound began to reach his ears—the faint rustling and padded footsteps of an approaching pack. He could sense it even before he saw them, a low growl rumbling across the field.
Another wave of dire wolves was advancing, and this time, they seemed more determined, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural ferocity. Their sheer numbers and organized formation hinted that this wasn't just another random attack—something was driving them.
Raymond shifted his stance, gripping his mace tighter as he moved forward, deliberately placing himself between the village and the encroaching wolves. He didn't want the villagers or Sonya disturbed; they needed to recover, especially with whatever force was leading these wolves.
He raised his armored hand and activated one of his skills, his voice echoing through the silent field. "Cursed Field."
The air around him grew dense with an invisible aura of malice, as the ground seemed to darken beneath his feet. The curse spread across the battlefield, its effect weakening every wolf that entered its range. Their snarls became strangled, their movements sluggish. They faltered as if sensing a powerful predator among them, something even more fearsome than themselves.
Raymond took a steadying breath, letting his eyes lock on each wolf. He strode forward, his mace swinging with brutal precision as he struck down the nearest attacker. The cursed aura sapped the wolves' strength, making them slower and less coordinated. Their ferocity couldn't match his power, especially under the weight of his curse. Each wolf that lunged at him was struck down swiftly, unable to pierce the eerie silence that enveloped him.
He moved through the field with calculated, efficient strikes, his armor glinting with each swing of his mace. One by one, the wolves fell, each a shadowy figure collapsing under the force of his blows. For all their numbers, they couldn't break past the curse or Raymond's unyielding assault. His control over the cursed field allowed him to move with an almost supernatural ease, the wolves' strength draining further the longer they remained in his range.
When the last wolf had fallen, Raymond surveyed the field. Bodies of the attackers lay strewn about him, their feral eyes dull and lifeless. He took a steadying breath, dispelling the cursed aura with a simple command. Only silence remained now, with the faint rustling of the morning breeze and the stillness of fallen adversaries at his feet.
It wasn't until noon that the village began to stir. One by one, the villagers and Sonya emerged, blinking against the midday sun as they looked around. The sight that greeted them left them speechless: Raymond, standing tall in the middle of the field, surrounded by the remnants of the attack, his dark armor flecked with dust and blood from the battle. His presence alone seemed to fill the clearing, a lone figure amid a scene of fallen enemies.
Sonya's eyes went wide as she took in the scene. "Raymond… did you… handle all of this?"
He turned to face her, nodding, a quiet confidence in his expression. "I told you I'd keep watch," he replied simply.
The villagers exchanged glances, murmuring in awe and gratitude. Garrick and Elena looked at him with newfound respect, their admiration clear.
Sonya approached him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know you had this kind of strength… handling all of them alone…"
Raymond gave her a small nod. "I've been through tougher battles. Besides, I couldn't let them disturb everyone's rest." He paused, glancing at the silent fields, still littered with the dire wolves. "But this attack… there's something unnatural driving them."
Sonya frowned, understanding the implication. The dire wolves' unusual aggression, their uncharacteristic tactics—something was manipulating them, perhaps even testing the village's defenses.
"Well, whatever it is," Sonya said, a spark of determination in her gaze, "we're ready to face it. We'll stand with you, Raymond."
A faint smile crossed his face as he looked at her, grateful for her resolve. "Then we'll be ready for whatever comes next."