From the heart of the inferno, a titanic form took shape. Thorian, astride his steed Harald, launched himself clear of the surprise attack. His red fur bore the scars of multiple burns, yet no trace of damage dared to breach his skin.

"Trying to surprise me with a fire attack, what a joke."

In command of the Direwolf King, Thorian's gaze was as icy as it was unyielding, fixed on the crazed fire magus. Even under his transformation, Harald seemed virtually unscathed. His Bestial form, larger and significantly more resilient than his usual state, held steadfast against the magus's meticulously planned onslaught.

The sight of Thorian's nonchalant emergence from his explosive attack warped the human's countenance into a mask of sheer insanity. With a battle cry that was half-beast, half-madman, he conjured a sphere of fire, dwarfing Thorian's fireball. He summoned every ounce of his dwindling power, teetering on the edge of total exhaustion, before he unleashed his most devastating spell.

"How slow can an attack be?" Harald quipped, his tone veering towards tedium. As the magus released his cataclysmic onslaught, the Direwolf King employed his Wind Leap, effortlessly vaulting over the giant fireball. A luminescent green tint shimmered on his paw as he set his claws into the frail form of the fire magus.

The second Harald's claws made contact with the unhinged sorcerer, the fire spell erupted behind them. The explosive force propelled Thorian slightly forward from the shockwave. Twisting around, he saw a sea of flames that had claimed a vast swath of land, their fiery tendrils clawing towards the heavens.

These amateurs and their theatrics, he mused. What self-respecting fire magus lacks control over his own flames?

"I was concerned for you for a moment there, my king," Vigil ventured, his tone a blend of shock and exhilaration. He then directed his gaze at the lifeless form beneath Harald's gargantuan paw. "For a man with such formidable offensive power, his defenses were definitely not up to par."

“I do not know what he was thinking staying in ambush alone. A magus is never without his group,” Thorian mused, shaking his head. "Still, I suppose relative to the others, his intelligence deserves some commendation."

With the immediate danger neutralized, the pair resumed their journey towards the village. As they traversed the scorched perimeter, Thorian's anxiety ebbed away upon noticing the village's interior had escaped major devastation. Homes were battered, and several facilities required repair, but the flames had not permeated the settlement. If not for the preemptive efforts of the orcs and Ventus in tree clearance the previous day, the destruction could have been catastrophic.

Thorian and Vigil, astride their direwolves, meticulously searched the village for any trace of the elusive shadowstalker. The settlement was littered with the fallen, most casualties being human, but many kobloid civilians had also tragically lost their lives in the onslaught.

Navigating the debris-strewn paths of the village, they arrived at the assassin's guild. There, Whisperwind stood guard with a troubled look etched across his face. As they drew near, the guild master's voice reached them.

"Thorian, get over here," he commanded.

The strain in Whisperwind's tone took Thorian by surprise; the shadowkin had always been a bastion of stoicism. Quickening their pace, the pair steered their mounts towards the guild, halting at the entrance.

"Let's go inside," Whisperwind motioned towards a room to the left. "There's something you must see."

Upon entering, Thorian's face contorted in shock. The shadowstalker was slumped next to the desk, his body a gruesome tableau of burns, deep gashes, and puncture wounds. By all logic, he should be dead, yet dark tendrils, akin to veins, coiled around his terrible injuries. In fact, Thorian could discern the faint crimson glow of blood coursing within this dark shroud.

"Nox! What has happened to him?!" Vigil cried out, horror ringing in his voice. "I will heal him right away!"

As the priest commenced his sacred chant, Thorian offered him a helpless glance. It's futile. Yet, he held his tongue, allowing the priest to give his all. As the white-furred kobold completed his incantation, silvery moonlight enveloped Nox's battered form. Yet, even as the illuminating glow ebbed, the grievous wounds remained undiminished. Only some of the burn scars mottling his body seemed to have been somewhat mitigated.

"Your healing spell won't be enough," Whisperwind declared, shaking his head. His luminous sky-blue eyes narrowed in a pained expression. "Only the ultimate spell of a second advancement priest has a chance. Even then, the success rate is merely fifty percent."

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"That... No, it can't be," Vigil murmured, his gaze sinking to meet Whisperwind's grim revelation.

In contrast, Thorian fixed his stare on the guild master, determination etched across his features. "How long does he have?"

"I can maintain my skill to pump blood into his heart for ten days," Whisperwind admitted with a resigned sigh. "After that, it will naturally dissipate, and I won't be able to reuse it for an extended period."

Ten days, you say? Thorian's eyes widened, his spirits lifting as a glimmer of hope ignited within him. Then there remains a possibility.

With a deep breath to steady his whirling emotions, Thorian offered the guild master a respectful bow. "Thank you for keeping Nox safe. Thank you for sheltering him and providing protection."

Thorian was far from naïve. The lifeless human forms littering the guild's exterior painted a stark picture. The Guild Master had gone above and beyond to safeguard Nox from the frenzied human mob, even at the risk of jeopardizing his own future should Thorian's side have lost the conflict.

"He's his own savior," Whisperwind retorted. "Despite his severe injuries, he slaughtered hundreds of those brutes. It was purely fortuitous that he stumbled into my territory while unconscious. It's as if his body instinctively sought refuge."

Nodding lightly, Thorian turned back to Vigil, a strategic plan already taking shape in his mind. "Have you mastered your healing spell yet?"

Taken aback by the unexpected inquiry, Vigil hesitated momentarily before replying, "Yes. I have achieved maximum proficiency with it, my king."

Thorian acknowledged with a nod, "Good, then proceed to the priest guild and advance your class."

Comprehending his directive, Vigil inclined his head slightly in assent before making a swift exit. He mounted his direwolf and set a direct course for the priest guild.

Simultaneously, Thorian's gaze returned to Nox's ghastly state. Unwilling to leave his friend on display for everyone to see, Thorian turned to Whisperwind and asked, "May I move him? I'd prefer to let him rest in his own home."

Caught off guard, Whisperwind paused before shaking his head and sighing, "Unfortunately, that's not possible. If he's too far from me, my skill won't work." He quickly offered words of consolation. "Don't worry. I'll keep him in my own quarters, away from prying eyes. It's the least I can do for him."

"Thank you for your consideration," Thorian inclined his head slightly. It was rare for Thorian to bow to anyone. However, for the man who had granted his first follower a second shot at life, he didn't mind the gesture.

As so, Thorian stepped outside the guild before Harald communicated with him telepathically. "What's your strategy moving forward?"

"First, we will halt the spread of that fire," Thorian responded, his gaze fixed on the roaring inferno raging beyond the burning barrier. "Afterward, we'll focus on the village's repair to secure our base of operations."

"That's a sensible start," Harald agreed. "But what comes next?"

"I will delve into identifying the orchestrator of this attack," Thorian vocalized this time, his eyes hardening. "I believe a proper talk is in order."

No sooner had Thorian issued his veiled warning than he detected a stir from the side. Swiveling around, he spotted the goblin, Brix, scrambling towards him, gasping for breath.

"My lord, I am so glad you've returned!"

* * *

Wolvendale Village

A couple of hours ago

Brix, the diminutive goblin who had whimsically chosen the priest class, had spent several hours concealed within the foliage. He was hardly known for his speed. His late peers often teased him for his sluggishness, but their fleet-footedness hadn't spared them from their grim fate.

When the human invasion erupted, he couldn't match the swift escape of his orc and kobloid compatriots. Left behind, he would have been an easy target and a potential feast of roasted goblin.

Recognizing his lack of speed as a considerable drawback, Brix elected to utilize his strengths. Taking advantage of his small stature and inconspicuous presence, he nestled himself amidst the bushes, careful not to make a sound. His strategy was simple - to bide his time and seize an opportunity to escape to his lord's place when attention was diverted. He knew that was the only place where safety was guaranteed.

As the hours ebbed away, Brix studied the invading humans. They bore little resemblance to the captives his tribe had taken and imprisoned. Those he was familiar with were typically composed, fearful, civilized, capable of displaying a gamut of emotions. In stark contrast, the invaders displayed only crazed fervor, an insatiable bloodlust, and a desire for dominance. They were more monstrous than any creatures Brix had previously encountered.

Only three among the crowd didn't exude that primal energy, and Brix discerned that they were the ringleaders. A woman adorned in green seemed particularly formidable, commanding a level of fear and respect that was seldom seen by the goblin. Only his lord, Thorian, displayed such a potent influence over those in his vicinity.

Therefore, it came as a shock to Brix when the trio suddenly relinquished their control, leaving the village under the guidance of one of the frenzied humans. A foolhardy red-haired man, overconfident in his newfound power.

As the trio departed, Brix's curiosity was sparked. He needed to unravel their intentions, their strategies, and the mysteries they harbored. Thus, he made the decision to trail after them.