The battlefield was chaos, pure and unrelenting. Injured fighters were pulled to the backlines as the support players scrambled to heal and shield them. Despite their efforts, the lower demonoids' advance kept pressing, relentless and vicious. Their clumsy strikes, combined with sheer numbers, overwhelmed even the most skilled among us.
Ken stood tall in the midst of it, his shield battered but firm. His jaw was tight, his usual warm demeanor replaced by a grim determination. He wasn't smiling now—there was no room for kindness here. Every swing of his shield was calculated, every step deliberate. He wasn't just fighting to survive. He was fighting to protect everyone.
"Get up!" Ken barked at a fallen fighter, hauling them to their feet with one arm while deflecting a lower demonoid's spear with his shield. Another fighter rushed to their aid, slashing through the demonoid and helping the injured player stumble toward the backlines.
"Don't stop moving!" Ken shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Stay alive!"
Nearby, Ryan delivered a powerful punch to a lower demonoid's chest, sending it sprawling. He was fast, precise, but exhaustion was setting in. His breathing was labored, sweat dripping from his brow.
"This is getting out of hand," he muttered, taking a step back to assess the battlefield.
"No kidding," I replied, slashing at a demonoid that got too close. My daggers weren't much against their tough skin, but they got the job done when I hit the right spots.
Tyler, on the other hand, seemed to thrive in the madness. He laughed as he swung his axe-hammer, the heavy weapon crushing anything in its path. "Come on, you bastards!" he shouted, his grin feral. "Is that all you've got?"
"Focus, Tyler!" Ken snapped, blocking another lower demonoid's attack.
"I am focused," Tyler shot back, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Unlike some of you, I can handle a little pressure."
"No one's impressed," Ryan said flatly, kicking a demonoid back and finishing it with a sharp punch to the face.
"Don't care!" Tyler yelled, his hammer smashing into a [lvl 2 Berserker Lower Demonoid] that had just entered the fray. The creature roared in pain but didn't fall. Instead, it swung its massive axe at Tyler, who barely dodged in time.
"New problem!" I shouted, my eyes widening as more berserker lower demonoids appeared. "Everyone, let's curse Tyler for jinxing the battlefield!"
There were at least a dozen of them, their hulking forms and wild eyes making them stand out even among the chaos. Their roars echoed across the battlefield as they charged, their massive axes cutting through fighters like paper.
"Fall back!" Ken yelled, his voice commanding. "Everyone, fall back! To the traps!"
The retreat was chaotic. Fighters scrambled to pull the injured toward the rear, where the support players were waiting. The berserker demonoids pressed hard, their attacks relentless. A healer's eyes met mine for a brief moment before they collapsed, their mana depleted. Another stepped in, barely holding it together, as they cast a protective barrier around a downed fighter.
Ken covered the retreat, his shield absorbing blow after blow. I stuck close to him, slashing at any demonoid that got too close. Tyler, despite his bravado, was surprisingly efficient at holding the line, his axe-hammer keeping the berserkers at bay long enough for others to escape.
"Don't slow down!" Ken shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "We've got this!"
Another fighter fell, their leg caught by a berserker's axe. Ryan and I rushed to pull them away as Ken and Tyler held the line.
"We're almost there!" Ryan yelled, dragging the injured fighter toward the traps.
The first wave of demonoids hit the traps, and the results were immediate. Spiked pits swallowed some of the berserkers whole, their roars turning to gurgles as they fell. Explosive charges rigged along the perimeter went off in a series of deafening booms, sending demonoids flying.
"Keep going!" Ken urged, his shield raised as he pushed forward.
The traps thinned their numbers, but the berserkers were tougher than the rest. Some of them climbed out of the pits, bloodied but alive, their eyes filled with rage.
"We need to finish this!" I shouted, dodging a wild swing from a berserker.
Ryan nodded, his fists glowing faintly as he delivered a series of rapid strikes to another berserker's torso. The creature faltered, its knees buckling before Tyler delivered the killing blow.
"You're welcome!" Tyler called, his grin infuriating as ever.
"I hate you." I shot back, driving my dagger into a berserker's exposed neck.
One by one, the remaining demonoids fell. The traps and the combined efforts of the fighters wore them down until, finally, the last berserker collapsed with a thunderous crash.
The battlefield fell silent, save for the labored breathing of the survivors. Fighters leaned on their weapons or collapsed to the ground, too exhausted to stand. The support players rushed in, their magic working overtime to heal the injured and stabilize the dying. One healer nearly stumbled as they cast their last spell, their face pale from exhaustion. Another healer supported them, guiding them to a safe spot behind the lines.
Ken stood in the center of it all, his shield hanging at his side. His shoulders were heaving, his face pale with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp. He surveyed the field, ensuring everyone was accounted for. His movements were methodical, his gaze unyielding, but I saw the cracks beneath it all. He was tired—too tired—but he was still standing. Still leading.
"No deaths," he said, his voice firm. "Good work, everyone."
Tyler snorted, leaning on his axe-hammer. "Barely broke a sweat," he said, though the blood on his armor and the limp in his step told a different story.
"Shut up, Tyler," Ryan muttered, rubbing his sore knuckles.
I dropped to one knee, catching my breath. My hands were shaking from the adrenaline, but I managed a weak smile. "Well, that was fun," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ken shot me a look, but before he could say anything, I spoke again.
"Don't get too comfortable," I said, my tone serious. "The strongest one hasn't shown up yet."
All eyes turned to me, the weight of my words sinking in. The tension shifted, the battlefield's noise suddenly feeling distant, as if a storm was approaching.
"What do you mean?" Ryan asked, his brow furrowing.
I pointed toward the far end of the battlefield, where a massive shadow loomed.
A figure stepped into the light, its presence making my blood run cold. It was massive, its armor gleaming with dark energy. Its skin was the color of dried blood, and its eyes—empty, black voids—stared out at us with a predatory hunger.
"That," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "is another level 3 demonoid, my friends. Bigger, badder, and has more chance of making us into kebabs."
The fighters around me stiffened, their exhaustion replaced by grim determination. Ken raised his shield, his jaw set. His eyes, though tired, never wavered.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves," he said, his voice steely and unwavering. "This isn't over."