"She… left?" Alan muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. The green light that had once surrounded her was now gone, fading into nothingness.
All that remained was the oppressive crimson energy swirling in the air, its presence suffocating, like a heavy fog. A deep, gnawing despair settled in his chest, creeping through him like poison.
His sword clashed against the Goblin's again, a violent screech of steel meeting steel, sending jolts of pain through his arms.
The force of the impact made his knees buckle, threatening to give out beneath him.
Even with the dark energy swirling around his blade, he could feel himself losing ground.
The Goblin was relentless, each strike draining him, wearing him down bit by bit. The weight of the fight, the weight of everything, was almost too much to bear.
The Nighthound shot through the air, a blur of shadows and speed, aimed to assist him, but even that was swiftly countered by another Goblin — this one wielding a heavy axe.
It was as though the world itself had conspired against him. Every time he thought he might gain an advantage, something else pulled him back into the chaos.
The Goblin's sword came down again, this time harder than before, and Alan felt his endurance begin to crack.
He struggled to keep his sword raised, his arms trembling under the pressure. The Goblin's laughter, shrill and mocking, echoed through the battlefield, only serving to deepen his frustration.
It was as if the creature could sense his weakening spirit. His hands were failing him. His grip was slipping.
For a moment, he thought about giving up. He was tired — so tired. His body screamed for rest, and his mind begged him to retreat.
But the thought of retreating made his heart ache, and the weight of his comrades' faces in his mind kept him from surrendering.
The Nighthound, his loyal companion, growled fiercely as it darted in to bite the Goblin's foot, its sharp teeth sinking deep into the creature's flesh.
The sudden shift in pressure took Alan by surprise, and for the briefest of moments, the strain on his arms vanished.
The Goblin howled in pain, its attention now diverted toward the beast. Alan, seizing the opportunity, backed away, putting distance between himself and the Goblin, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He turned his head, eyes instinctively searching for William and the others. The sounds of battle seemed to fade away, replaced by a heavy silence. His stomach twisted in dread.
What he saw made his heart stop.
The ground was littered with the bodies of his comrades. William. The others. Their lifeless forms sprawled out across the battlefield, unmoving.
His vision blurred as his body went numb, as if the world around him had stopped turning. His jaw went slack, and his lips trembled, but no sound came out. It was as though time itself had frozen.
He wanted to scream, wanted to rush to them, but his legs wouldn't move. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, each beat louder than the last, but it was all he could hear in that moment.
His mind refused to process the truth.
The Nighthound's whine cut through the silence, bringing him back to the present.
Alan's eyes shot forward, and he saw it — the Goblin's sword, descending with lethal precision onto the Nighthound. Time seemed to slow. His heart skipped a beat as the sword struck the beast, slashing through its side.
The Nighthound yelped in pain, collapsing to the ground.
"No!" Alan shouted, his voice raw with desperation. His legs finally moved, and he sprinted forward without thinking, his sword raised high.
Dark energy surged around the blade, swirling like a storm as he channeled all of his fury and grief into the strike. "Don't you dare!" he screamed, the words fueled by every ounce of rage he had left.
He met the Goblin's eyes, his blood boiling as the creature sneered at him. The Goblin's form shimmered with crimson energy, the same dark aura that surrounded all of the Goblins in the area.
Their laughter filled the air, mocking him, taunting him, like an endless chorus of demons.
Alan's grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white. His vision swam with the blood-red hue of his fury.
But as he stepped forward, his sword ready to strike, doubt crept into his mind. The Goblins were everywhere — surrounding him.
He was outnumbered. Outmatched. And yet, he couldn't stop himself. His heart burned with the need to protect, to fight, to avenge his fallen comrades.
The Goblin before him raised its sword, preparing for another strike, its laughter echoing through the chaos.
Alan's body screamed for him to run, to retreat, but there was no retreating now.
Not with his comrades dead. Not with his only ally — the Nighthound — lying wounded on the ground.
The Nighthound let out another whimper, weak but filled with determination. Alan glanced at it, his chest tightening with emotion.
He couldn't let it die, not after everything they had been through together. He had to fight. He had to survive, not just for himself, but for them.
With a roar, Alan charged at the Goblin. The world seemed to shift around him, his blade cutting through the air with the weight of his fury behind it. The Goblin swung its sword to meet him, but Alan's strike was faster, stronger, fueled by everything he had left.
The dark energy that enveloped his blade exploded outward, creating a shockwave that sent the Goblin reeling backward.
For a moment, everything went still.
Alan stood over the Goblin, breathing heavily, his sword crackling with dark energy. The creature's crimson glow flickered before it collapsed to the ground, knocked out by the blast.
Alan's heart was still pounding in his chest, but there was no time to rest. He couldn't stop now. There were more of them. More Goblins closing in. And he was still alone.
He turned, his eyes scanning the battlefield, searching for the next fight. But all he saw was death. His comrades were gone. The battlefield was littered with corpses. He had to keep moving. He had to survive.
The Nighthound, bloodied but still breathing, limped to his side, its eyes filled with the same unyielding determination. Alan looked down at his companion, a faint smile breaking through the despair. Together, they would fight. Together, they would survive. No matter what it took.