Sinclair felt a sense of anticipation as he wandered through the labyrinthine streets of the mining city, guided by a local resident well-versed in the town's layout. Rustic architecture and hewn stone buildings filled the streets, each pulsating with the lively comings and goings of residents and traders. Though he had an appointment with the city's leader, a highly regarded woman named Garret, it wasn't until the ringing of the 3rd bell—an hour from now, according to a messenger who found him in one of the shops.
Eager to use his waiting time productively, Sinclair decided to absorb the unique atmosphere of this frontier stronghold. He spent about 2 hours meandering through a few stores, browsing an array of local wares. As he did so, his guide took the opportunity to explain the local currency system, which Sinclair found comfortingly similar to that of his own home. 1 gold converted to 100 silver and 1 silver converted 100 copper. They had actual names for the coins vs just calling it by the metals name though.
The streets were a symphony of activity: blacksmiths diligently shaping steel, vendors forcefully hawking their wares, and children darting around, their laughter filling the air as they engaged in imaginative games. The sense of community was palpable, yet tinged with tension. Sinclair noticed the faces of the guards who patrolled the city's walls and gates. They looked wary, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their weapons.
Intrigued by the unique local products, Sinclair made a few purchases that caught his eye—mostly food items he thought would be a treat for him and his companions. He couldn't help but speculate on what the atmosphere might be like when he finally met with City Lord Garret, the woman responsible for this vibrant yet guarded community.
Sinclair's musings were abruptly interrupted by the guttural bellow of a horn echoing from the city wall—a sound so piercing that it instantly drowned out all other noise, leaving a jarring silence in its wake. The atmosphere shifted palpably, as if the air itself had thickened. The guards' expressions morphed from caution to urgency, mirroring the tension Sinclair had sensed earlier but couldn't quite identify.
"Something's happening at the wall," one guard muttered to his comrade, his eyes narrowing.
"No time to waste," the other guard responded, snapping Sinclair out of his reverie as he signaled for him to follow. "We need to see what's going on."
Rushing toward the source of the sound, Sinclair felt a foreboding sense of urgency knotting his stomach—a sensation that confirmed the nebulous threat he'd sensed earlier was now a vivid, immediate concern.
"What's happening?" Sinclair questioned one of the guards as they hastened through the labyrinthine alleyways.
"We're under attack—again," the guard grunted, short of breath but still managing to convey the gravity of the situation. "From the deep mine in the Southeast corner. It was recently overrun by these...these abominations. They're damned hard to kill."
With that grim revelation, the guards led Sinclair up staircases hewn from the living rock, each step taking them closer to the top of the city wall and the unknown dangers that lay beyond. The sense of looming dread had now coalesced into a concrete, imminent threat, and Sinclair braced himself for what they would encounter next.
Upon reaching the battlements, Sinclair was met with a scene of heightened preparation: archers nocking their arrows with precision, infantrymen fastening their helmets tightly. Their focused eyes were locked onto the shadowy abyss of the deep mines, from which unsettling, guttural growls seemed to ascend like dark smoke.
At that moment, Garret, whom Sinclair had used his analyze skill to identify as the city leader, approached him. "It seems we have subterranean visitors," she said, her tone heavy with regret. "This isn't the kind of introduction to our city I had hoped to offer you."
Before Sinclair could ask what was happening, Garret began to speak, almost as if reading his thoughts. "Creatures from the deep mines," she gestured toward the edge of the illuminated zone below them, "usually they keep to their own depths. But lately, something's been driving them up, further and further from the lower levels where they typically dwell."
Sinclair's eyes met Garret's, both filled with a mix of trepidation and resolve. "So far, sending a team down to investigate has proven impossible," Garret continued, her voice tinged with frustration. "Every attempt has been met with aggression. These creatures are coming up from levels they've never ventured from before, and it's never good news when they do."
The ominous feeling that had gnawed at Sinclair since his arrival now manifested as a visible, immediate threat. And though this was far from the cordial meeting he had anticipated with the city leader, he sensed that his presence here, at this precarious moment, was anything but coincidental.
As if answering some dark summons, forms began to manifest from the inky blackness of the mines. Grotesque creatures, gnashing and snapping, surged towards the city wall in a terrible procession. The monsters were numerous; some vaguely familiar to Sinclair, but others defied any classification. One thing was certain—they all looked sickly and twisted.
Sinclair turned to Garret. "Have they always appeared this way?"
Garret shook her head, her expression grim. "No, this is new, and deeply concerning. I've already reached out for additional clerics to come and assess the situation."
Eyeing the pathway that sloped downward from the wall toward the mine entrance, Sinclair noted its narrowness. "Looks like only fifteen or twenty can approach at a time."
Garret nodded. "A small mercy, perhaps, but one we'll take."
Sinclair clenched his fists and felt a grin spread across his face. "Well, it seems my visit just became a working one," he said, activating Visage of the Wolf. The ethereal aura of the wolf enveloped him, his eyes glowing with a fierce light. No sense in holding back now; the people could use the morale boost.
Seizing the moment, Sinclair also triggered Commanding Presence. The effect was immediate: every defender seemed to shake themselves awake, standing taller and surer than before, as if jolted by an electric charge.
Garret smiled wryly at Sinclair. "Welcome to the frontier."
Arrows began to fly in earnest, their flights tracing deadly arcs through the night air. Both Sinclair and Garret joined the defenders at the walls edge, readying themselves for the onslaught.
The night air grew thick with the acrid smell of sweat and the metallic tang of arrows as they sliced through it. Below, a roiling mass of monsters threw themselves at the base of the city wall. The larger ones crushed smaller brethren underfoot, even as fights broke out among the creatures—vicious, snarling encounters whenever one was stepped on or jostled too roughly.
Above them, the defenders unleashed a relentless volley of arrows and ballistae bolts. The projectiles whistled through the air, finding their marks in monstrous flesh. Yet some creatures—twisted, agile things—managed to claw their way up the stone wall, leaping or scrabbling toward the parapets.
On Sinclair's section of the wall, a few even succeeded in breaching the top, claws grasping for purchase on the stonework. With a swift motion, he drew his weapon, cutting down the first creature to make it over. Its body tumbling back down into the throng below.
Time seemed to stretch and compress. Defenders chanted battle hymns in deep, sonorous voices, a tradition meant to bolster courage and keep spirits from flagging. The rhythm of the chants mingled with the cacophony of battle, forging a strange kind of symphony.
The rhythm of the chants mingled with the cacophony of battle, forging a strange kind of symphony. Then, from somewhere along the wall, a solitary voice began to sing, clear and defiant, rising above the din:
"Stand fast, stand true, ye sons and daughters bold,
For this here ground we claim, for hearth and stories told.
The shadows creep and crawl, but here we make our stand,
With sword and bow in hand, we guard this sacred land!"
Another voice joined in, then another, until the melody cascaded down the length of the wall, carried on the breath of every defender.
"Oh, the night is long, and the beasts are many-faced,
But we won't step back, not a single pace.
In brotherhood we fight, our spirits never wane,
Till morning's light we hold, till we see the sun again!"
The song filled the air, melding with the clamor of combat, infusing the weary fighters with renewed vigor. For a moment, the looming danger seemed a bit less overwhelming, eclipsed by the powerful sense of unity and purpose the song conveyed. Even Sinclair, caught in the emotional swell, felt a renewed sense of hope. It was as if the very stones of the wall vibrated with the collective will to survive, to fight, and to win.
Every twenty minutes, or when someone took an injury that couldn't be ignored, fresh fighters swapped in to take the places of the weary or wounded. Despite their best efforts, two lives were lost when defenders were pulled over the wall before anyone could react, disappearing into the sea of gnashing teeth and claws below. The mournful call of a horn marked their sacrifice, but the battle raged on.
Sinclair, amidst the mayhem, felt a new respect for these frontier defenders. They had likely been facing such horrors for some time now, and still, they stood strong, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
But as the hours dragged on, the question that loomed in everyone's mind was how much longer they could hold out. Was this ceaseless tide of abominations ever going to end?
Sinclair's eyes locked on a new threat in the back. Standing over half the height of the wall and probably had arms thicker than his torso stood a monster he knew he was destined to fight. He could feel the blood in him warming up for battle. Remaining locked on the advancing behemoth, he knew he couldn't directly command the city's troops as he had in his tutorial; that was for their leaders to do. Instead, he focused on contributing in the way that he knew best—direct action.
Casting a glance toward the city wall, he felt a pull of gratitude for the Commanding Presence he'd already invoked. Though he couldn't trigger that particular magic again due to its 24-hour cooldown, he had other tricks up his sleeve.
Taking a deep breath, he activated Leap. In an awe-inspiring display of agility and power, he soared off the battlements, landing amid the vestiges of the smaller creatures still lurking below. As he touched down, dust and debris flew into the air, creating a small crater around him. He smirked and mentally quipped that Hero landings were in fact as cool as they looked.
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With no time to lose, he triggered his Wild Shout skill. A bone-chilling roar erupted from his lips, amplified by the magic coursing through him. The noise reverberated across the battlefield, capturing the attention of all nearby monsters. Like a magnet, he drew their focus entirely onto himself, pulling their aggression away from the wall.
And then came Frenzy.
Unleashing the skill, Sinclair felt an unparalleled surge of energy flood his limbs. His eyes glinted with a mixture of ferocity and focus, as he swung his weapon in wide, devastating arcs. Each strike became a deadly dance of destruction, cutting down monsters with a brutality that even gave the bloodthirsty creatures pause. Their hesitation cost them dearly, as Sinclair's blade met no resistance, savagely dispatching any who dared stand in his path.
As he fought, Sinclair couldn't help but think of the looming menace that was the Myrkr. This planet had its own experiences with them, but not to the disastrous extent that had befallen Midgard. Right now, though, his immediate concern was the ever-encroaching giant monstrosity approaching the wall, and the soldiers who had only one chance at holding the line.
With every swing, cut, and parry, Sinclair knew that this battle was only the tip of the iceberg, a grim foreshadowing of challenges yet to come. And as he stood there in his Frenzied state, weapon dripping with the ichor of fallen abominations, he felt a sense of grim satisfaction. If this was a taste of what this world had to offer, then he was more than ready.
With Chewy and Leia at his side, their agile forms landing gracefully next to him, Sinclair felt a sense of unity. He heard the City Lord's urgent voice carrying down from the battlements, warning him of the creature's daunting level. Though he appreciated her concern, Sinclair knew he was uniquely equipped for this confrontation.
A thought flickered through his mind, a consideration of the Aura of Intent he was about to trigger. Could that be what the city's dignitaries had sensed back in the audience chamber? No time to ponder that now, he scolded himself with a grin.
Focusing on the gargantuan monstrosity before him, Sinclair channeled his Aura of Intent. Every ounce of fear, frustration, and fury from the past weeks concentrated into that force, radiating outwards from him like an almost visible wave. The aura was so potent that even those on the city walls, more than a stone's throw away, took involuntary steps back. Faces paled and breaths quickened as if they were standing at the edge of an abyss.
No more hesitations.
With a defiant shrug, Sinclair unleashed a primal howl, a declaration of intent that echoed across the battlefield. Chewy and Leia answered, their individual howls intermingling into an ethereal, unified cry that seemed to resonate with the very air.
Now it was time for action.
Sinclair activated Focus Charge, feeling his muscles tighten with coiled energy. As if he and his weapon were one, he drew back his axe, the blade humming with the stored energy of a charged Cleave. For a moment, everything around him seemed to blur, to fade into inconsequence. There was only the monstrous creature, the deadly arc his weapon would soon describe, and the destiny about to be fulfilled.
And then he charged.
*****
The City Lord, a strong and battle-hardened woman named Garret, stood atop the battlements, staring at the unfolding scene below in disbelief. Her eyes, seasoned from years of overseeing frontier defenses and facing unspeakable terrors from the deep mines, widened in sheer astonishment.
"By the gods, what is he doing?!" one of her generals muttered, eyes transfixed on the spectacle of Sinclair and his animal companions facing down the nightmarish monster.
"He's a level 0," another general observed, bewildered. "How can he even stand against that thing? It's as if—"
"—as if he doesn't care that it should be impossible," Garret finished the sentence for him, her voice tinged with awe and a complicated swirl of other emotions.
The generals exchanged uneasy glances. "Do you think he might be a loose cannon, my Lady? A danger?"
Garret shook her head, her eyes never leaving the scene of the unfolding battle. "No, he's a Wolf Lord. You've heard the stories, same as I have. These are individuals chosen for a unique role; they protect their people, sometimes with the very sacrifice of their lives. A loose cannon doesn't charge into battle to defend a city he has no stake in."
"But the power he holds, untrained, young as he is—" another general started.
"It's terrifying," Garret admitted. "But it's also awe-inspiring. I've led men and women into battle for years, seen bravery and recklessness in equal measure. I've seen power, too—lots of it. But this..." she gestured toward Sinclair, who was now in the midst of his charge, "this is something altogether different."
"He's like a force of nature," a general murmured.
"Yes," Garret nodded. "And nature is neither good nor evil. It simply is. It's what the Gods do with it that defines us. And from what I've seen, Sinclair is choosing to use his power to protect, not to destroy."
Still, she couldn't shake a sense of trepidation. The sheer energy emanating from Sinclair, the undeniable force of his aura, was almost palpable even from this distance. It was a wild, untamed power, wielded by someone who still had so much to learn.
"He has a good heart," Garret murmured, almost as if reassuring herself. "But a good heart combined with that much raw power? That's something we should all be wary of, even as we're grateful for the protection it affords us today."
As she spoke, she couldn't take her eyes off Sinclair, the Wolf Lord who had leapt into battle as if the impossible odds meant nothing. And as she watched, she felt a strange sensation, something between dread and hope—a feeling that the world was shifting beneath her feet, and that nothing would ever be quite the same again.
Garret's voice was crisp and clear as she issued orders to her generals. "I want every nearby tunnel checked and rechecked. If this behemoth managed to get this close, there might be others lurking underground."
"Aye, my Lady," her generals responded, already dispatching soldiers and messengers to carry out her commands.
Garret was about to instruct her aides to initiate the rotation of troops when a sudden, thunderous boom resonated from the battlefield below. Her eyes snapped back to the scene just in time to see Sinclair's figure launched through the air, as if swatted away by an invisible giant hand. He crashed into a boulder near the base of the wall, his body contorting around it like a rag doll wrapped around a playground ball.
"Gods above," she breathed, her heart sinking at the sight. Had they all underestimated the creature? Had its dormant power finally been triggered?
"Archers, hold!" she commanded, raising her hand high to signal the ceasefire. For a moment, all eyes were on Sinclair, the tension as taut as a drawn bowstring.
Her thoughts raced. Sinclair had displayed incredible power, but even he had limits. Was this the boundary of his capabilities? Was he even still alive?
"Prepare a rescue team," she told her aide, her voice tinged with urgency. "And tell the clerics to be ready for the worst."
But even as the words left her mouth, she watched, stunned, as Sinclair began to stir. Slowly, almost painfully, he disentangled himself from the boulder's rough embrace. Elysia could almost feel the collective sigh of relief from her troops, intermingled with a sense of awe. He jumped up and down a little settling his armour and looked like he was getting ready to get back in the fight.
Whatever had just happened, whatever force had catapulted him through the air, it seemed that Sinclair was far from defeated. He was bruised and battered, yes, but not broken. Far from it.
Garret's eyes narrowed as she studied the young Wolf Lord. He was an enigma, a paradox of youth and power, naivety and wisdom. And as he stood back up, weapon in hand, facing the monstrous behemoth once more, Elysia knew one thing for certain: Sinclair was changing the rules of the game.
She couldn't tell if that excited or terrified her more. Perhaps it was a bit of both. But in that moment, she knew that Sinclair, with all his raw, untamed power, was something—or someone—they'd all have to reckon with, sooner or later. And so would whatever lurked in the depths of those cursed mines.
*****
As Sinclair landed the finishing blow on the towering monster, a sudden whistling sound broke through the clamor of battle. He spun around just in time to catch a hefty rock square in the chest. The force of the impact sent him flying backward. In that fleeting moment of airborne disorientation, he glimpsed three more monsters, similar to the one he had just defeated, emerging from the tunnel. Accompanying them was what appeared to be a magic user, its hands fervently weaving a spell, colorful lights encircling it.
Finally, he came to an abrupt halt about 50 feet from his original position, landing beside a large boulder. Rolling over, he pushed the heavy rock off his chest and immediately reached for a vial of health potion strapped to his belt. Through their mental link, he spoke to Chewy and Leia. "Keep an eye on them. I have to chug down a health potion—that rock took a good deal out of me. If they start to advance, I need you both to distract them long enough for me to recover. Understand?"
Chewy's mental response came quickly. "Understood. For now, they're holding their ground. Though the magic caster seems to have died right after finishing his spell." Leia added, "Better hurry, my Lord. The monsters have changed color, and they're starting to move this way. Looks like they got buffed by that spell."
As Sinclair uncorked the vial and downed its contents, he felt the potion's healing properties weave through him, knitting up his injuries and rejuvenating his worn-out muscles. "Damn, a spell strong enough to kill its caster just to buff these beasts—they're pulling out all the stops," he thought, eyeing the approaching monsters.
Fully revitalized and feeling a new surge of energy, he formulated a quick plan through their mental link. "Alright, Chewy, you draw the attention of the one on the left. Leia, you distract the one on the right. I'll take the one in the middle. If things go south, we'll pull back and regroup. Everyone clear?"
Chewy and Leia acknowledged his plan, their loyalty steadfast. Sinclair rose to his feet, locking eyes with the middle monster. He knew that these buffed versions would require more than brute force—strategy was the game now. Taking a deep breath, he activated "Focused Charge," channeling his energy for a more targeted attack. Axe in hand, he felt a rush of adrenaline as he muttered, "Let's dance," and sprinted toward what promised to be a critical encounter.
High on the city wall, City Lord Garret watched the unfolding drama. She couldn't help but wonder if Sinclair truly grasped the danger he was in. Yet something told her that this audacious young man was exactly where he needed to be, doing exactly what he was meant to do.
The moment Sinclair charged, his axe seemed to come alive, glowing with a vivid red energy as he activated his Cleave attack. He swung at the central monster, and the red light trailing his axe's arc collided with the creature's toughened hide. It howled in pain, a sound that reverberated throughout the battlefield.
But this fight was different—the creatures were not just toughened, they were also quick and precise. Sinclair took several rapid blows, each impact jarring his frame and testing the effectiveness of his recently consumed health potion. He moved agilely, dodging lunges and sweeping claws, all while ensuring he inflicted enough wounds to keep the monster defensive.
It was a dance, a brutal ballet, and every step mattered. He used "Focus Charge" to its full extent, slipping past the central monster in a burst of speed and appearing behind another that had its attention on Chewy. His axe, still imbued with red light, came crashing down, catching the creature off guard. It staggered, thrown off balance by the unexpected attack.
Chewy and Leia were every bit as nimble, darting in and out of the monsters' reach. They leapt, dodged, and lunged, tearing small chunks off the enemies but never staying close enough to be a target. Every time they pulled back, Sinclair felt a wave of relief. Their safety was as crucial to him as his own, perhaps even more.
Spotting an opportunity, Sinclair used his skill "Frenzy" on one of the beasts that Chewy had just managed to knock over. His actions turned into a whirlwind of violence, his axe swinging in maniacal arcs. Each swing let out a swath of red light, each impact a crescendo in this deadly symphony. The monster had no time to react, let alone stand, as it was pummeled into submission, howls of agony accompanying each blow.
This was not like his earlier fights. Every monster was a struggle, a test of endurance, skill, and willpower. His breaths were labored, his muscles screamed in exhaustion, but he persevered. With each dodge, each successful attack, each saving glance towards Chewy and Leia, he reminded himself why he was here: to protect, to survive, and to triumph.
Bloodied but far from broken, Sinclair adjusted his grip on his glowing axe and took a moment to gauge his enemies. Despite the considerable damage he and his companions had inflicted, the buffed monsters were far from defeated. But Sinclair was resolute, and as he met the eyes of the remaining beasts, his own eyes glinted with an unbreakable resolve. He was far from done.
Amid the tumultuous battle, Sinclair issued a command through the mental link to Chewy and Leia: "Both of you focus on one of these monstrosities. I'll engage the other." Following their Lord's instruction, his companions harried one monster, snapping and dodging to keep it at bay. Meanwhile, Sinclair squared off against his designated foe.
Just as he believed he was gaining an advantage, the monster's claw shot forward, penetrating his left shoulder and piercing his chest. A surge of intense pain tore through him, eliciting a scream as he was sent sprawling across the battlefield. He tumbled and rolled, finally coming to a halt.
Reacting instantly, Chewy and Leia intercepted the monster as it attempted to close the distance to finish Sinclair off. Grimacing against the pain, Sinclair staggered to his feet, gripping his axe one-handedly. Blood oozed between his fingers, staining his armor and the ground below. Spitting to one side, he tightened his grip on the axe, preparing to plunge back into the fray.
As he took his first step, a rejuvenating sensation washed over him, as if he'd been doused with icy water. Glancing back, he noticed a glowing blue trail linking him to a cleric standing atop the city wall. "The healers have arrived, thank the All Father," Sinclair muttered to himself, feeling the life force return to his battered body.
Energized and patched up, Sinclair sized up the situation. To his surprise and delight, the monsters had unwittingly turned their backs to him, absorbed in their attempt to fend off Chewy and Leia. Seizing the opportunity, he activated his skill, "Focus Charge," and zeroed in on the most injured monster.
With his axe ablaze in ethereal red light, he sped toward his target. As he closed in, he unleashed a devastating downward chop. His axe, reinforced by his skills and raw determination, severed the creature's leg cleanly, cutting through hardened skin and bone alike. The monster let out a terrible scream, its body thrashing in obvious agony.
Sinclair skidded to a halt, his body heaving with exertion but his spirit unbowed. They had reached a critical moment; the tide of battle was shifting, driven by their relentless effort and the newfound support from the city's clerics. Chewy and Leia joined him in a unified howl, a triumphant anthem that merged with the distant shouts and commands from the wall.
Even with the injuries and close calls, Sinclair knew one thing was clear: they had seized the initiative. Now, all that remained was to finish what they'd started.
*****
City Lord Garret stood on the elevated platform, overlooking the battlefield with a mixture of awe and disbelief. She had witnessed countless battles in her time, had seen heroes rise and fall, but nothing like what she was seeing now. A young Wolf Lord of Level 0, accompanied by two Level 17 Direwolves, had just defeated monsters so formidable that even she couldn't gauge their level. These were creatures that were at least Level 82, far beyond what any of them should have been capable of taking on. And yet, Sinclair and his companions stood triumphant.
"Unbelievable," she muttered to herself, her fingers lightly tracing the hilt of the sword she wore at her side. "Absolutely unbelievable."
Her eyes followed Sinclair as he looted the fallen monsters, even limping his way down to the cave mouth to ensure not a single enemy went unlooted. The young man was meticulous, a sign that he understood the importance of resources in this dire situation.
Turning to one of her aides, she rattled off a series of orders. "Tell the clerics to restore them to full health and mana. Prepare the gates for their return, and have food and water ready. We owe them that much, at the very least."
Her aide nodded and hurried off to relay the commands. As she watched Sinclair making his way back, her thoughts began to swirl with new strategies and possibilities. Having someone like Sinclair on their side wasn't just fortuitous—it was a game-changer.
Despite the grim circumstances that had led them all here, the City Lord felt a glimmer of hope rising within her. If this young Wolf Lord could achieve such feats, what more could he accomplish with proper training and resources?
And so, as the gate opened and Sinclair and his companions entered, met by clerics with healing spells and soldiers bearing sustenance, City Lord Garret couldn't help but feel that Sinclair could help with their other issue in the mines.
*****
As Sinclair stepped through the gates, he was greeted with an uproar of cheers and applause, the soldiers and civilians alike showing their gratitude and awe. It was a strange sensation for him, being the center of so much attention. He felt his cheeks warm but did his best to keep his composure.
He took a bottle of water and some food from a soldier, nodding in thanks. Choosing a spot near the entrance, he sat down to eat, taking occasional glances at Chewy and Leia, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their meals from large bowls provided by attentive residents.
The City Lord, Garret, made her way toward him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before she arrived at his side. Sinclair stood to greet her, a respectful nod exchanged between them.
"Please, sit," she gestured to the seat he had just vacated. "You've done more than enough to earn a moment's respite."
Sinclair retook his seat, feeling a bit more at ease. It was clear that whatever had transpired out there in the field, it had fundamentally shifted how he was perceived here, and not just by the City Lord. For the first time since his unexpected journey began, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.