The forge crackled with a warm, steady glow, its coals casting flickering shadows across the room. Nolan, the young blacksmith, stood by the anvil, his hands trembling slightly as he presented the finished blade to Kael. The katana gleamed in the dim light, its elegant curve and polished edge a testament to Nolan’s growing skill. It was a one-and-a-half-handed weapon, balanced perfectly for precision and power.
Kael took the sword in his hands, its weight familiar yet distinct. He shifted it slightly, his cybernetic eye scanning the blade. To the untrained eye, it was flawless—a masterful weapon. But Kael’s enhanced vision caught subtle imperfections: a faint inconsistency in the curvature, a slight unevenness in the polishing near the hilt. Still, for a smith so young, it was an exceptional creation.
“This is remarkable work, Nolan,” Kael said, his voice firm but kind. “For what we’re about to face, I couldn’t ask for better.”
Nolan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though his gaze lingered on the forge itself. “It’s not just the sword… It’s this place,” he murmured. “This forge—it’s efficient, more than I ever thought I’d have. It feels wrong to leave it behind.”
Kael rested a hand on Nolan’s shoulder, his grip reassuring. “We built this forge because we needed it then. Now, we’ll need a new one, a better one, where we’re going. And I promise you, Nolan, I’ll help you build a forge so advanced, it’ll make this one seem like a stepping stone.”
Nolan hesitated, then nodded. His fingers flexed as if trying to commit the feel of the forge to memory. Alma stepped forward, her hands glowing faintly with Terran Mana.
“It’s time,” she said, her tone practical but laced with understanding.
Nolan stepped back as Alma extended her hands toward the forge. The ground beneath trembled, cracks spreading through the stone foundation. The chimney crumbled inward, the walls buckling under the pressure of Alma’s magic. Within moments, the forge was reduced to rubble, the remnants sinking into the earth.
Kael sheathed the katana with a smooth motion. “Let’s move. The others are waiting.”
Nolan cast one last glance at the ruined forge before following Kael. The warm glow of the coals was gone, replaced by the cold determination in their steps as they joined the column preparing to leave.
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The column moved steadily through the abandoned village, a quiet determination hanging over the group. At the head of the formation, Kael, Elira, and Felix led the way, their steps purposeful yet cautious. Kael’s new katana hung at his side, its weight reassuring but foreboding. Elira walked beside him, her eyes scanning the horizon with measured calm. Felix flanked them, his shield held tightly, his shoulders tense with the anticipation of danger.
Behind them, the wagons creaked under the weight of the supplies, the lifeblood of the group’s survival. The villagers surrounded the wagons in a protective formation, their makeshift weapons ready in trembling hands. Among them, the former knights of the 7th Brigade moved with quiet discipline, their presence lending the convoy a sense of structure and preparedness.
On one of the lead wagons, Berry sat with his hands resting on his knees, his expression grim as he observed the corrupted forest ahead. Alma, seated beside him, fidgeted nervously, her wide eyes flickering between Berry and the unnatural landscape. The once-familiar woods now loomed blackened and distorted, the air heavy with an oppressive energy.
At the rear of the column, Sir Drennor and Eric walked in step, their vigilance unspoken but evident. Eric’s gaze swept across the path behind them, his posture steady but alert. Sir Drennor’s sharp eyes scanned the treetops and shadows, his calm demeanor a silent reassurance to those around him.
The atmosphere shifted as the convoy reached the edge of the forest. The vibrant greens and earthy browns that once defined the woods were gone, replaced by gnarled trees with cracked bark, oozing faintly glowing violet streaks. The ground beneath their feet felt brittle, fractured by veins of corruption that pulsed like diseased roots.
Berry’s voice broke the uneasy silence. “This is worse than I feared,” he said quietly, his tone laced with a calm certainty. “The Void’s influence has spread deeply here. The forest isn’t just corrupted—it’s alive.”
Alma shifted uncomfortably, her small hands clutching the edge of the wagon. “Is it dangerous?” she asked hesitantly.
Berry’s gaze didn’t waver from the treeline. “Very. And it’s watching us.”
His words sent a ripple of unease through the column. The villagers tightened their grips on their weapons, their steps faltering slightly. Felix glanced back at the convoy, his brow furrowed. “Should we stop?” he asked Kael, his voice low.
“No,” Kael replied firmly, his gaze fixed ahead. “We knew this would be risky. Keep moving, but stay ready.”
The column pressed on, their pace steady but wary. The oppressive air and the creaking of the wagons were the only sounds, the silence of the forest broken only by the occasional snap of a branch or rustle of unseen movement. Every step deeper into the corrupted woods brought a growing tension, as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting for the right moment to strike.
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The column pressed deeper into the corrupted forest, the tension mounting with every step. The air felt heavy, oppressive, and every shadow seemed to ripple with unseen movement. Kael, at the front, scanned the treeline with his cybernetic eye, catching faint flickers of motion just out of reach.
Then the attack came.
Dark vines erupted from the ground like serpents, coiling and twisting as they lashed out at the wagons and villagers. Thorned hedges burst forth, cutting the column into two halves with terrifying precision. Screams echoed as villagers scrambled to fend off the vines with their makeshift weapons.
“Stay together!” Kael shouted, his katana flashing as he severed one of the writhing tendrils. “Protect the wagons!”
But the forest had other plans. A massive wall of blackened thorns surged up between the middle wagons, splitting the group in two. The barrier stretched upward, forming a twisted, impenetrable mass that pulsed faintly with violet light. Kael’s group was left at the front, while Sir Drennor, Eric, and the rear group found themselves isolated.
Felix stepped toward the barrier, raising his shield. “Kael! We have to get to them!”
Kael slashed at the thorns, his katana cutting deep, but the vines regenerated almost instantly, growing back faster than he could sever them. “It’s too thick! We can’t get through!”
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On the other side of the barrier, Sir Drennor assessed the situation quickly. The Bramblehound burst from the shadows, its massive form barreling into the rear group. Its violet eyes glowed with malevolence as it roared, shaking the ground.
“Form up!” Drennor commanded, his deep voice cutting through the chaos. He raised his greatsword, its blade glinting menacingly. “Keep moving! Push toward the trees!”
Eric fell into step beside him, his sword flashing as he fended off an attacking vine. “We have to lead them to safety,” he said urgently.
The Bramblehound lunged, its claws slashing through a wagon and scattering supplies. Sir Drennor stepped forward, meeting it head-on. His greatsword struck with brutal precision, carving into the creature’s shoulder and forcing it to stagger back.
“We can’t hold this position!” Eric shouted, driving his sword into a tendril creeping toward a villager. “We need to move now!”
Drennor nodded. “This way! Follow me!”
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At the front, Kael’s group had managed to fend off the initial wave of vines, but the wall of thorns separating them from the wagons and the rear group remained an impenetrable barrier. Elira stepped forward, raising her hands as a soft light radiated from her palms. A section of the vines hissed and recoiled, burned away by her energy, creating a momentary gap—but almost instantly, the thorns regrew, sealing the breach.
“It’s no use,” Elira said, her voice tight with frustration. “They’re regenerating too quickly.”
Felix glanced back toward the frightened villagers. “What do we do? We can’t leave them.”
Kael’s gaze swept over the wall, assessing their options. The sounds of combat from the rear were growing fainter, swallowed by the oppressive forest. The barrier stretched endlessly in both directions, and every attempt to breach it seemed futile.
Kael clenched his jaw, the weight of the moment pressing on him. “We don’t have a choice,” he said finally. “We take this group to the caves. Once they’re safe, I’ll go back for the others.”
Elira hesitated, her eyes wide with worry. “Can you find them in this?”
Kael nodded, his voice steady. “I will. But if we stay here, none of us will make it.”
Felix’s shield shifted in his grip as he stared at the wall, the frustration clear on his face. After a moment, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. “Lead the way.”
Kael turned to the villagers, his tone firm but reassuring. “Stay close. Keep moving. Don’t stop for anything.”
With that, he led the group forward, his katana slicing through the encroaching vines as they pushed deeper into the forest. Elira and Felix flanked him, protecting the group from the relentless attacks of the corrupted plants. The cries and sounds of battle from the rear grew fainter, until they were nothing but a memory swallowed by the shadows.
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The Bramblehound roared, its glowing violet eyes fixed on the fleeing villagers. The creature moved with terrifying speed, crashing through the underbrush as it closed the gap. Vines lashed out from the ground, snaring the feet of the slower villagers and pulling them down. Chaos erupted as the group stumbled and scattered, their fear palpable.
“Keep moving!” Sir Drennor’s voice bellowed over the noise as he swung his greatsword, cutting a swath through the writhing plants. He turned toward the villagers. “Stay together! Don’t stop!”
But the Bramblehound wasn’t done. With a deafening roar, it lunged toward a cluster of villagers who had fallen behind. Its massive claws tore through the air, seconds away from striking them down.
Eric saw it happening out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t think. He just moved.
“Get back!” he shouted, throwing himself between the villagers and the beast. His sword flashed as he struck, the blade biting deep into the creature’s shoulder. The Bramblehound roared in pain, staggering briefly before turning its full fury on him.
“Eric!” Drennor called, his voice thick with alarm as he tried to push through the tangled vines to reach his brother.
The Bramblehound lashed out, its claws tearing across Eric’s chest. He stumbled, blood staining the ground beneath him, but he didn’t fall. With a final surge of strength, he drove his sword into the creature’s side, forcing it back. The beast roared again, wounded but unrelenting.
“Run!” Eric yelled at the villagers behind him, his voice strained but commanding. “Go now!”
The villagers hesitated for only a moment before obeying, scrambling toward the path that Sir Drennor had cleared. Eric turned back to the Bramblehound, his breathing ragged. The beast lunged again, and this time its claws struck true, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Drennor broke free of the vines just as the Bramblehound let out a final snarl and retreated into the shadows, leaking dark ichor from its wounds. He dropped to his knees beside Eric, his greatsword falling to the ground as he reached for his brother.
“Eric,” Drennor said, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to—”
Eric coughed weakly, a faint smile flickering across his lips. “Did I get it?”
Drennor nodded, his jaw tightening. “You gave it something to remember.”
Eric’s eyes softened, his gaze distant. “Good... they made it, right?”
“They’re safe,” Drennor replied, his voice firm. “Because of you.”
Eric let out a shaky breath, his expression tinged with regret. “We didn’t get enough time, did we? After everything…”
Drennor’s throat tightened. “We had enough to know we were brothers. That’s what matters.”
Eric’s smile lingered, even as his strength faded. “Protect them… promise me.”
“I swear it,” Drennor said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll protect them. For you.”
Eric’s hand fell limp in Drennor’s grasp as the light left his eyes. Drennor knelt there for a moment, his head bowed, the weight of his brother’s sacrifice heavy on his shoulders.