The battlefield was a gruesome testament to the chaos that had unfolded. The twisted corpses of monstrous beings lay strewn across the blood-soaked ground, their grotesque forms broken and lifeless. Pools of thick, dark blood mixed with the dirt, creating a viscous sludge that clung to the boots of the surviving awakeners. The acrid stench of decay and scorched flesh hung heavily in the air, mingling with the lingering energy fluctuations from countless unleashed abilities. The distant crackling of dissipating elemental forces created an eerie undertone, a whisper of the carnage that had just taken place.
Seraphine stood at the center of it all, her black armor stained with the blood of her foes. Though the battle had been intense, her breathing was steady, her posture unwavering. Her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of her sword, still wet with fresh crimson, but her sharp, silver eyes remained fixed on the massive gate ahead. The battlefield may have fallen silent, but she knew better than to relax.
Around her, the awakeners were regaining their bearings. Some wiped the sweat from their brows, while others tightened their grips on their weapons, mentally preparing for what was to come. The younger ones exchanged wide-eyed glances, the awe of surviving such a battle momentarily overshadowing their exhaustion. Yet, the veterans among them didn't celebrate. They knew this wasn't the end. It never was.
Perched comfortably behind a large boulder, Zhuo had the best seat in the house. A conjured chair supported his relaxed posture, and an empty bag of popcorn lay beside him—evidence of how much he had enjoyed the show. He casually dusted the crumbs off his sleek black coat, stretching his arms as if he had just finished watching a mild entertainment piece rather than a brutal battle.
"Not bad," he mused aloud, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. He tilted his head slightly, observing the battlefield with an expression that was more curious than impressed. "They survived the warm-up. Let's see how they handle the real fight."
The awakeners had only a few fleeting moments of respite before the atmosphere shifted once more. A deep, guttural hum resonated through the ground, a sound that vibrated through their very bones. The towering gate at the center of the battlefield began to pulse—an ominous, rhythmic thrum that felt far more menacing than before.
The younger awakeners instinctively took a step back, while the veterans stiffened, their grips tightening on their weapons. It was a familiar sound. The sound of something far worse about to emerge.
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. She lifted her sword slightly, her body already moving into a ready stance. The first wave was merely the beginning. The real battle was about to begin.
A sudden crack split the air, sharp and deafening like a mountain shattering into pieces. The gate trembled violently, its darkened surface splitting open with a thunderous roar that sent ripples of energy surging across the battlefield. The very ground beneath the awakeners quivered, and an ominous heat radiated from the widening fissure.
Then, from the abyssal depths of the gate, they came.
A relentless torrent of monsters poured forth, their sheer numbers swallowing the battlefield like an unstoppable tide. But these were not the same mindless creatures as before. They were bigger. Stronger. More terrifying.
The Infernal Goliaths:
At the forefront strode monstrous beings, their hulking forms casting enormous shadows over the battlefield. Each one stood at a towering fifteen feet, their colossal frames covered in jagged, rock-like scales that gleamed under the battlefield's flickering lights. Their thick, armor-plated skin looked impenetrable, but the true terror lay within the molten veins that pulsed beneath their surface. Glowing rivers of molten orange light coursed through their bodies, emitting waves of searing heat that distorted the very air around them.
Their eyes burned like embers buried deep within their skulls—soulless, predatory, and filled with an insatiable hunger for destruction. The ground beneath them cracked and sizzled with each step they took, their immense weight causing small tremors that made even the most seasoned awakeners shift uneasily.
One of them let out a guttural snarl, the sound reverberating through the battlefield like a volcanic eruption. It clenched its massive fist, the molten veins within its arm flaring brighter as its knuckles cracked with an ear-splitting pop. The very sight of them exuded overwhelming dominance, a walking calamity that had no equal in brute strength.
The Steel Mantids:
Skittering in droves behind the behemoths was an unsettling swarm of creatures, their segmented bodies darting forward with unnatural speed. They moved as one, their synchronized movements creating a nightmarish, writhing sea of gleaming exoskeletons.
Their bodies shimmered with a metallic sheen, their armor-like carapaces reflecting light in sharp, unnatural glints. Their long, bladed limbs clacked together in a deafening, rhythmic cacophony, a sound reminiscent of metal grinding against metal. Each step they took was quick, erratic, unpredictable—a swarm of death on spindly legs.
With every movement, their serrated mandibles twitched, and their blade-like appendages flexed eagerly, as if yearning to slice through flesh and bone. Their many soulless, pupil-less eyes gleamed in the darkness, void of emotion, locked onto the awakeners with cold, mechanical precision.
They did not roar or snarl like the Infernal Goliaths. They did not exude the same overwhelming force. Instead, they promised something far worse—death in numbers, an endless tide of razor-sharp limbs that would carve through anything in their path.
The Eclipsed Harbingers:
Above the chaos, the air distorted as if the very space was being warped. Then, emerging from the veil of darkness, came the shadowy figures. They moved like wraiths, their winged forms flickering in and out of sight, as though the shadows themselves were birthing them.
These were the Eclipsed Harbingers—a rare breed of aerial nightmares wreathed in an eerie, swirling black mist that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. Their elongated, skeletal hands clutched pulsating orbs of dark energy, tendrils of raw power crackling and twisting around their fingers.
They did not fly with the grace of birds nor the predictable motion of other winged creatures. Instead, they hovered weightlessly, their movements erratic and unnatural, like marionettes controlled by an unseen force.
Then, they shrieked.
A piercing, bone-chilling sound that cut through the battlefield like a blade through silk. It was no ordinary scream—it was laced with an insidious energy that burrowed into the skull, making one's vision blur for a moment, sending shivers crawling down the spine. The younger awakeners flinched at the sound, some instinctively stepping back as an overwhelming dread clawed at their senses.
The Harbingers' eyes—deep, empty voids—seemed to scan the battlefield with eerie patience, as if savoring the panic their presence alone instilled. Then, as if drawn by an invisible command, they began to move.
Slowly. Methodically.
Their fingers tightened around their orbs of power, and with a simple flick of their wrists, the battlefield was flooded with streaks of dark energy, arcing toward the awakeners like lightning from the heavens.
The air grew heavier. The flickering flames that still burned from the previous battle wavered against the incoming onslaught. Even the wind seemed to still, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
The awakeners stood their ground, weapons clenched tightly, their knuckles white with tension. The momentary relief from the first wave was completely wiped away, replaced by a looming, suffocating sense of dread.
This was the second wave.
This was the true test.
And the battle had only just begun.
This is the Second Wave of a True Major Gate—where the real nightmare begins.