Dallarath readied his sword. He could hear the snarling wolves approaching and their distance to the forest meant they came on wings of mana.

Standing to his left were Siege and Sebas. Each one held the same golden flask as he did, ready to bear the brunt of the beasts’ attack for the others. Warden and his group of farmhands stood behind them. Most of them sported some kind of metal armor or shield. A handful had proper weapons — the rest armed themselves with picks and scythes.

The oldest of the apprentices stood further back. Siege was hesitant of them joining — saying they might do more harm than good. The Scourge taught them nothing but war magic and they had no real experience fighting life and death battles. Their area spells could likely hit their allies — and that would be disastrous against a horde of beasts.

They had little time to prepare. There was so much to do and organize but the sound of bounding paws and gnashing fangs closed in too soon.

The howling dire wolves of the Great Forest arrived like a hurricane, sending dust clouds in their wake. Most of them were on the verge of transformation into mana-warped monsters — two warped at the borders of the shop.

The riders leading the wolves lit and tossed torches towards the Corner Shop™, spreading a pungent lavender scent throughout the Scourge’s territory. The act would be their last as the warped wolves tore into them almost as soon as they threw the torches.

Dallarath started to unstopper the golden flask, but Sebas held up his hand and shook his head. He realized the riders were using the same concoction to lure the wolves. The torches were probably soaked with the golden liquid and burning it allowed its scent to spread across the shop and the nearby buildings.

Two mana-warped dire wolves and another two dozen on the verge behind them. The odds were stacked against them — and the lives of children and ordinary villagers were on the line.

The ground shifted underneath his feet. It felt like a wave of sorts, but there were no visible signs that the ground moved. To his horror, he felt cut off from mana, his body losing power and fortitude. He turned to the others, finding different expressions on their faces. Sebas was frowning as if irritated, Siege had a curious look on his face, and the farmhands were smiling!

What was happening?

The first of the wolves attacked — a twisted abomination whose skin erupted with bony protrusions. Its maw elongated further with four dagger-like fangs ready to rip and tear its prey apart.

Siege charged with reckless abandon. His armor provided enough protection from the wolves’ claws but little against a warped beast’s fangs. The dwarf seemed to have a strange pull as he attacked, forcefully drawing the beasts towards him.

Such a skill or ability was unheard of in centuries — but Dallarath had come upon notes of such abilities in old elvish records from before the arrival of the mages.

The dwarf’s sword hacked into flesh but stopped short of cutting into the creature’s mana-infused bones. The transformed dire wolf countered with a claw, smashing the shield that Siege put up for defense. Dallarath expected the dwarf to get blown away — but he held his ground, his feet digging into the dirt beneath him.

His feet? Why did Siege opt to go barefoot in such a crucial battle? Dallarath banished the questions from his mind. There would be time to talk after the battle — if both of them survived.

He intercepted the other mana-warped wolf. Unlike his companion, who seemed to have retained most of his powers, he could only rely on his skills. A swinging claw almost took his head as he realized how much slower he moved without mana. He angled his sword, aiming for the beast’s arm — barely cutting an inch deep into the creature’s hardened skin.

Sebas was immediately beside him, wielding a strange dull dagger that glowed a deep violet. He stabbed the dagger into the beast’s chest, barely breaking its skin. With his other hand, he hammered the pommel — driving the dagger straight into the creature’s chest.

“Hold the others!” the butler bellowed. “Mages, pick your targets!”

The ground erupted from underneath the dire wolves — forming grasping hands or pits that opened and closed beneath them. Half of the beasts were held fast by the earthen magics, but the rest bounded towards the shop.

Dallarath watched as waves of fire and ice swept the line of wolves. The forest beasts of the Great Forest of Dun were known for their resiliency to magic — however, the spells of the apprentice mages seemed to hit them at full force. Was it their distance to the forest that made them weak or was there some other factor at play?

Siege managed to sever the front leg of his opponent. He followed through with a strike to its armored neck. Unlike before, his strange sword cut deeply — almost cleaving the beast’s head off its body. The dwarf turned to the other wolves, charging at them and drawing their attention.

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No — it wasn’t that. The dwarf was using his strange ability to physically pull the wolves toward him, making them veer from their paths — even tugging at the ones that went past him.

Six dire wolves converged on the dwarf. Two of them showed signs of getting blasted by spells, but the rest had little to no injuries. Dallarath could only watch helplessly, knowing that charging into their midst without the fortification of mana would make him more of a liability than reinforcement.

“Head to the fields,” Sebas gave him a soft shove. “Keep your distance from the chasm and use your bow.”

Dallarath nodded. He did as the butler said and sprinted away from the chasm. With every step he took, he could feel mana slowly seeping into his body. Once he reached the fields, he was restored to his former self.

He readied his bow. Mana filled his arms as he nocked an arrow and drew.

The mana inside him flowed into the arrow moments before he let it fly. Vortices of air trailed in its wake as it spanned the distance to strike a wolf in the eye. The arrow pierced through its skull, hitting a second wolf in the neck. The first wolf collapsed immediately, while the second thrashed on the ground for a few heartbeats before lying still.

Siege raised his shield, acknowledging his attack. The dwarf roared a challenge to the wolves, but his expression turned from sheer determination into shock. “Goddamned kids!” He plunged his sword into the ground, just as several pillars of fire erupted around him.

The air shimmered from the heat. Siege emerged from the inferno looking irritated and reddish — suffering from the fires’ aftereffects but without a singe or burn in his body.

“Goddamned kids!”

Sebas directed another wave of attacks — the farmhands using their mastery of earth to hinder and delay the beasts while the mages hit them with fire, ice, and lightning. Siege was in the thick of things, parrying claws and fangs or plunging his sword into a wolf.

Dallarath let loose another two arrows, taking down two of the more uninjured wolves. The battle was not going as he thought it would. They were winning — and with relative ease.

Something was wrong with the wolves. Their long journey couldn’t account for the strange drop in their strength — much more in the two mana-warped creatures. The wolves seemed like they were grasping for air — visibly weakened in their attacks.

Was it the chasm? Did it affect them as it did him — cutting them off from mana? That would explain how easily Siege and Sebas disposed of the two. Access to mana would have made the two mana-warped wolves close to invincible due to their enhanced regeneration and fortitude. A strike to the heart would have been a minor thing and Siege’s sword would have had a harder time cutting through plated bone.

Several streaks of colored light drew Dallarath’s attention. Paired farmhands and mages rode the three snails to scout their enemies — the streaks of light denoted where they would be coming from.

Three — no four directions, he noted as another streak sprang up from a distance. He walked towards the others, hesitatingly feeling for the distance where his mana would be cut off.

“Bears, four groups, three to four per group,” Sebas spoke, his eyes glazed staring into the distance. “The snails should be arriving any moment, we should take one each and lead them towards the chasm.”

“What about the fourth one?” Siege asked.

“One group will come through there,” the butler pointed to the road leading to the Great Forest. “We’ll intercept the other three that are taking other routes.”

Dallarath nodded. The siege was just starting and the battles would only get fiercer.

***

Enik stood on the square unseen by the villagers. He used the commotion caused by the wolves to slip in unnoticed — more so with his cloaking spell. The spell was of his own making. Unlike invisibility spells, his cloaking spell affected the mind — making him seem insignificant or forgettable.

The village had no guards. The men looked strong and fit from working, but few of them carried weapons with them. There was only one among who seemed formidable.

Standing guard in front of one of the houses being built was an armored villager. He seemed calm and collected, not panicking like the others in face of the attacks. Enik could barely feel the man’s presence, marking him as an assassin, spy, or scout. The man wasn’t dressed like one — but he did have a hood over his head and a strange mask on his face. He didn’t seem to have any weapons on him, but it was easy to conceal a dagger or two inside leather armor.

The man would be his first target. The other villagers would be child’s play with his skill once he dealt with their only guardian. He moved closer, knowing his concealment was more perfect than anything invisibility could offer.

Enik nodded at the man. “Strange times,” he muttered almost unintelligibly.

The cloaked figure didn’t even bother to respond, his gaze locked to the house in front of him.

The assassin pulled out an envenomed dagger from its sheath, turning towards the man’s exposed back. Enik struggled for a moment — he could slit the man's throat or plunge a dagger into his spine.

He smiled, slitting the man’s throat would be more dramatic — and the spray of blood would drive the villagers into a greater panic.

He grabbed the man’s head, tilting it upward and running his dagger across his neck. The sensation of metal cutting into flesh was unmistakable. His dagger cut so deep, he could feel it grating across the man’s spine. He waited for the man’s last struggle, the dying throes before the endless stillness.

There was none. There was no spray of blood either.

What was happening? He was sure his dagger hit flesh and not armor — why was the man seemingly unaffected.

“Turn around and grab him, Rob,” a man shouted behind Enik.

His uninjured target turned towards him, grabbing him by the waist in a vice-like hug.

“Strength upgrades,” the man explained.

Enik stared at the man’s visage in front of him, realizing the mask was no mask — it was the man’s or creature’s face!

He struggled but the creature’s grip was unyielding. His dagger plunged over and over into the thing’s face and torso, but it remained standing — unaffected by his attacks.

“Now hit him with your hammer!”

The assassin flinched at the coming blow, only to find that there was none. His captor kept his hands firmly on his body — merely holding him and not taking any actions to attack him.

“You can’t make Rob hit a human, Horst,” another voice said behind him.

Enik turned his head to the sound of the voice, seeing a muscular man approaching with a massive hammer in hand.

“If you want to do something, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Enik closed his eyes, turning away from the inevitable hammerblow that would end his life.