The air was heavy with tension, a palpable silence settling over the battlefield as the defenders braced for the second wave. The makeshift defenses stood ready—traps meticulously laid, fighters in formation, and the support team stationed just behind them, prepared to intervene at a moment's notice.
Above it all, a faint buzzing seemed to resonate in the air, an almost imperceptible hum that set every nerve on edge.
A loud clang shattered the silence, signaling the beginning.
Tyler, standing near the front line, twirled his colossal axe-hammer with an enthusiasm that bordered on manic. His grin stretched wide, unbothered by the impending danger. "Let's smash some skulls!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the battlefield. If anyone ever told him combat wasn't supposed to be fun, Tyler clearly hadn't gotten the memo.
Ryan, a stark contrast, stood stoically beside him. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate, like the ticking of a clock counting down to destruction. His expression was grim, focused—a soldier through and through.
Ken was at the forefront, his massive shield planted firmly in the dirt. His eyes scanned the horizon, unwavering. His stance was solid, yet there was a weight in his gaze. As his eyes passed over a group of barely twelve-year-olds clutching spears and swords, guilt flickered across his face. He made a silent vow then and there: no one under his watch was going to die today.
Behind them, Avi adjusted his grip on his daggers. Shadowfang felt good in his hand—lighter, more balanced than the crude weapons he'd used before. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress. He shifted his stance, his eyes narrowing.
The countdown hit zero.
[00:00:00]
[Second wave start. Good luck and survive.]
Avi's pulse quickened. The world seemed to freeze as the timer vanished, and then, in a heartbeat, it all came alive.
He squinted toward the horizon as the first forms emerged from the haze of smoke and dirt. Imps. A swarm of them. The little nightmares bounced forward with all the frenzied energy of cornered animals, their long limbs twitching and eyes wide with savage glee. Their bodies were squat, no bigger than a four-year-old child, but they moved with the relentless, raw speed of predators.
[lvl 1 Imp]
"They're here," Avi muttered, exasperation already creeping into his voice. The imps' mouths yawned open to reveal a mess of jagged teeth, a reminder that alone, these monsters were little more than pests. But together? They were like a tide, impossible to stop.
Next, a pack of Mudwargs emerged from the smoke, their fur crusted with dirt and blood. Smaller than wolves but just as vicious, their claws scraped against the stone and dirt as they surged forward, muscles rippling. Their teeth glistened with a dangerous sheen under the pale light, a cruel promise of what they could do.
[lvl 1 Mudwarg]
"Oh, great, mad dogs. Just what we needed," Avi said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, though his pulse quickened at the sight.
The Mudwargs were tougher, not as quick as the imps but not to be underestimated. Their bites were lethal, and those claws could leave deep gashes. Avi flexed his fingers around the hilts of his daggers, heart pounding with the anticipation of the fight.
And then there were the Stonebacks. Slow-moving, yet an unyielding wall of muscle and rock-like skin. They trudged forward, bodies heavy and ominous, and with each step, the ground seemed to shudder.
[lvl 1 Stoneback]
"They're like if 'the thing' decided to give birth to scrawny teenage rocks," Avi quipped, unable to resist a joke in the face of impending battle.
The ground beneath them rumbled with each charge. Ken held his ground as imps darted past him and flung themselves at Ryan. Ryan moved fluidly, twisting his body as he slammed his fist into the side of a Mudwarg's face, sending it sprawling with a sickening crack.
The battle raged on, shouts of pain, triumph, and desperation mixing into a symphony of chaos. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and smoke. The ground quaked under the relentless pounding of feet and the clash of metal on metal, punctuated by the guttural roars of imps and mudwargs, and the anguished cries of wounded fighters.
Avi's eyes swept over the scene, narrowing as he scanned the melee. To his right, Ryan fought with brutal precision, his blows hammering into the chests of the smaller creatures, sending them sprawling into the mud. His breath came in ragged gasps, muscles straining as he parried a blow and countered with a devastating sweep of his sword.
Avi glanced to the backlines, where the support team worked tirelessly to keep the frontlines intact. Mia and Sophia were a blur of motion, their hands glowing as they weaved spells with practiced urgency. Mia's face was set in a mask of focused concentration, her eyes darting between her teammates as she called upon healing magic to patch up the wounded. Each spell that flowed from her hands seemed to drain her a little more, but she didn't falter; she pressed on, an unwavering pillar of strength in the storm.
Sophia, her shield magic shimmering in brilliant blue waves, stood close by, eyes sharp and calculating as she assessed the battlefield. With every flick of her wrist, shields formed and expanded, protecting the injured and blocking the blows of charging enemies. Her movements were precise, but there was a flicker of strain in her expression.
Avi's gaze shifted further, catching Emily in the corner of his vision. She was at the heart of their defensive line, fingers trembling as she cast healing and barriers that shimmered with each incantation. Her spells weren't flawless, but each was a little stronger, a little steadier, and that was enough. The barrier she conjured now expanded to envelop two nearby fighters, one of whom let out a surprised, pained gasp before settling back into a weak, grateful nod. Emily's cheeks were flushed with exertion, but her eyes burned with determination, refusing to let fear take hold.
He stole a moment's glance at Ken and Tyler. The latter was a flurry of movement, using his agility to weave through the fray, his blade flashing as he struck down anything that dared to challenge him. His eyes, bright with battle fervor, never stopped scanning for a way to turn the tide. Ken's form was a reassuring sight amid the chaos, his large frame and practiced strikes pushing back the tide of imps that tried to swarm the line. The fight was taking its toll on him too, sweat running down his face, but his expression was resolute. He wasn't just fighting for survival; he was fighting for them all.
Avi tightened his grip on his weapons, feeling the pulse of adrenaline in his veins. The Lower Demonoids' calculated march pressed forward, with the smaller creatures in tow. Their steady advance was like the drumbeat of doom, but he could not afford to think of them as unstoppable. Not now, not when every member of their group was putting everything they had into this fight.
"Stay sharp," he muttered under his breath, eyes flicking between the advancing tide and his friends. "We're not done yet."
The wave intensified, the imps and Mudwargs surging forward in relentless numbers. The Stonebacks, though slower, began closing the gap, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground.
Avi caught his breath for a moment, wiping the sweat from his brow as the echoes of battle continued to thunder around him. The sting of exhaustion and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. His body ached, his muscles burning from the relentless engagement with the first wave, but he couldn't afford to pause for long. The ground beneath him trembled, a low, bone-rattling vibration that set his teeth on edge. The air seemed to shift, charged with an unnatural heat, a prelude to the storm approaching from the horizon.
Avi's eyes flicked over the battlefield, scanning for the source of the tremor. His pulse quickened as he spotted them emerging from the shadows, a mass of dark figures that moved with a precision that should not have been possible for creatures of their ilk. They stood the same height as the previous wave—just barely five feet tall—but their compact forms were stocky, with limbs thick and powerful, like tightly wound coils of muscle. There was an air of undeniable menace in their advance, a silent promise of death.
[lvl 2 Lower Demonoid]
The Lower Demonoids were a strange blend of human and monstrous, their bodies etched with muscle that seemed to pulse with unnatural strength. Their crimson skin was polished and luminous under the pale light, shifting like molten lava as they moved. Jagged, asymmetrical horns jutted from their foreheads, some curling inward and others splitting into cruel angles, catching the light in sinister glints. Their eyes glowed with an unsettling intelligence, a stark contrast to the frenzied madness of the imps and Mudwargs. There was no wildness here; only intent.
They carried crude weapons that looked cobbled together from discarded battlefield debris. Rusted swords and jagged spears dripped with dark, unknown ichor. Some had maces fashioned from stone and iron, the weight of which would crush bone and armor alike. Each movement was a calculated step in a grim dance, and Avi could feel their eyes on him as if they were weighing his worth, deciding whether he was prey or a challenge.
"They're learning," Avi muttered, the words barely audible over the roar of battle. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and took in the sight before him, a sinking realization forming in his gut. This was different. This was no longer a haphazard swarm; this was an army, an organized unit that understood strategy. It was as if they had learned, adapted from every skirmish, from every misstep they had made before.
The Lower Demonoids moved forward in disciplined ranks, their feet pounding against the cracked earth in a relentless march. Each step sent echoes through the valley, a drumbeat of doom. The lesser creatures behind them—the imps with their grotesque faces and clawed hands, and the Mudwargs with snarling mouths and twitching limbs—scrambled and bounded, eager to follow the formidable lead of their larger counterparts. They surged forward in a living tide of death, their cacophony a discordant symphony of chaos.
Avi's breath caught in his chest as he noticed the subtle shifts in the enemy's formation. The Lower Demonoids, calculating and precise, pushed the smaller creatures forward, a spearhead of maddened flesh and bone that would drive through their lines. The imps and Mudwargs weren't just a wave—they were the floodgates, the storm that would break the resistance before the real damage came.
Ken's voice thundered across the field, calling for the fighters to regroup. Ryan's jaw clenched as he stepped forward, fists raised and eyes blazing with the promise of violence. Tyler's grin was wild, eyes glinting with the feral excitement of a battle that promised the kind of chaos he thrived in. They were ready, each of them, but Avi knew this was different. This was more.
Avi shifted his stance, fingers digging into the hilts of his daggers. He could feel the dark presence of the demonoids pressing on him, their intent suffocating. These weren't just monsters; they were the harbingers of something worse. And as their glowing eyes locked onto him, he knew they weren't coming to test their might—they were coming to conquer, to erase. And if they were going to be stopped, it would have to be now.
Ryan, Ken, and Tyler all looked at each other. I could see it in their eyes—we weren't going to just sit here and wait for them to come to us.
I grinned. "Let's give these guys a proper welcome."
And with that, we moved forward.
The second wave had just begun.