At dawn, a cold light creeps over the Sanctuary’s battered stone walls. Mist hangs low, curling at soldiers’ feet as they gather in the courtyard. Armour clasps shut. Weapons snap into place. Last words are exchanged.

  This isn’t just a defence anymore.

  It’s payback.

  Before the valiant warriors, Warden Lord Edran Vale stands alongside Knight Lieutenant Theodore Brooks and High Mage Darius. The final preparations are in motion.

  “The storm mages are in position,” Darius announces. “They will unleash the storm on your command.”

  Theodore nods. “Ground forces are ready. Traps are set, barricades reinforced. Once the first wave is funnelled in, we hold nothing back.”

  Edran scans the courtyard, his eyes settling on familiar faces. Among them stands Steve—shield repaired, back straight, eyes firm.

  Edran strides ahead, his voice slicing through the silence. “Today, we give everything. We fight not just to survive, but to claim victory.”

  A roar rises from the crowd. Weapons are raised. Hearts pound.

  The counterattack begins.

  Above, storm mages weave their magic. The sky churns. Wind lashes the treetops. Water whips in spirals. The Raróg shrieks overhead, thrown off course by the sudden surge of chaos.

  Darius watches intently from the command post, eyes flashing as he channels his own power. “Now,” he commands.

  Bolts of magic-infused lightning crack through the air, striking dangerously close to the airborne beasts. Several falter, wings struggling against the violent gusts. From the ground, archers and mages release a volley of arrows, aimed at the now-vulnerable creatures. Enchanted harpoons launch from the ballistae, tearing through their lines.

  Meanwhile, Theodore leads the charge on the ground. As planned, the earth-bound predators funnel into the narrow alley, where hidden pits and spiked barricades await them. The moment they cross the threshold, fire mages unleash torrents of flame, driving them into chaos.

  The trap is sprung. The beasts snarl and thrash, unable to advance. The ground fighters push forward, hacking through the disoriented creatures with ruthless efficiency.

  Finn dodges a lunging beast, rolling under its swipe before driving sharpen thorn into its exposed flank. Lucille fights beside him, her dagger flashing as she cuts down anything that gets too close. Steve, now reinvigorated, bashes an enemy aside with his shield before cleaving it with a brutal swing of his broadsword. Risa and Clementine stay in the back to shoot wind arrows and form temporary shields around teammates if needed, to suppress predators’ attacks and enhance their attack lines.

  As the Raróg struggle to stay airborne, the command shifts. “Bring them down!” Theodore bellows.

  Spearmen and swordsmen surge forward. With the aerial threat weakened, the battlefield tilts in humans’ favour. More Raróg crash to the ground, tangled in nets and harpoons, where waiting warriors finish them off.

  A piercing cry cuts through the din. A massive Raróg, larger than the others, descends. Its wings are beating furiously against the storm’s grip. Its talons gleam as it swoops low, aiming for the command post.

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  Edran draws his sword. “Darius, shield!”

  The High Mage raises his glyph-encarved staff. A shimmer of light pulses outward, forming a barrier just in time. The beast slams into it, sending magic ripples through the air, the ground trembling under the force. Cracks spread across the shield, but it holds.

  Archers move in sync, arrows whistling into the creature’s exposed flank. But the powerful gusts from its wings push the arrows backwards.

  The beast rears back, beak glowing with fire, ready to strike back.

  Someone sees it. He bolts toward the command post, vaults over debris, dodges the clashing around him, and pushes the ambush back with one arm. As the Raróg rears back for another strike, he leaps onto the nearby ballista.

  It’s Frank! He adjusts the ballista’s angle and grips the lever. “Now!”

  The harpoon launches, strengthened by wind magic. It cuts through the air, and time seems to slow as the projectile slams into the Raróg’s chest, piercing flesh and bone. The creature screeches in agony, its wings flailing as it crashes to the ground. A cloud of dust rises.

  Silence.

  Then, the Sanctuary warriors let out a cheer. The momentum shifts instantaneously.

  With the ground forces breaking through and more Raróg units defeated, the enemy's remnants begin to scatter. Theodore does not allow mercy. “Pursue them! Drive them back to the wilds—let them know Mistwood is not theirs to take!”

  Finn’s squad sustains only minor injuries, with Risa and Clementine remaining unscathed thanks to Steve, Lucille, and Finn holding the frontline. Though the humans are winning, they do not let their guard down.

  Clementine takes over Finn’s role, summoning iron spikes, blades, and barriers to reinforce Steve’s defence. Finn joins Risa at the back, calling out enemy movements, coordinating attacks, and casting control spells to slow enemies and disrupt their formations.

  Steve refuses to step down as the defender, blocking and redirecting enemy attacks, giving Clementine time to set metal traps and Lucille a clear line to fire her arrows. Once the predators are staggered, Risa and Finn unleash spells while Lucille attacks from mid-range.

  As Finn’s squad moves into position, following the battle plan, they anticipate engaging weakened enemy forces.

  A shrill, ear-piercing screech tore through the air.

  Suddenly, they sense something moving beneath them. Before they can react, a pack of small, nimble, low-rank predators erupts from the cracked stone below, while Rarógs dive from above in perfect coordination.

  Steve immediately reinforces his stance, using his shield to block lunging predators and defend Lucille and the others. He calls out enemy positions as he tanks hits, using his weight and shield to slam a Raróg into the ground, preventing it from joining the attack.

  Clementine pulls buried metallic spikes from the ground to create instant barricades that separate their foes. She also wraps iron around Steve’s shield, reinforcing his defence while keeping it light.

  Lucille uses wind arrows to disrupt the Raróg’s flight paths, making them easier targets for ranged attacks, and slashes at predators that get too close to Steve’s exposed side.

  Risa hurls magic at staggered predators while Finn eliminates others with sharpened thorns and vines.

  A cry of pain made by a hunter from another group fails to adjust as quickly as Finn’s squad and falls to a Raróg’s attack.

  The Raróg does not stop there—it locks its sights on another target.

  It prepares to spit fire at Finn’s back. Finn only senses the danger when he takes down another predator lurking in front of him. If he dodges, Risa will be hit.

  Just as Finn braces himself with only a flawed barrier—

  A black smoke streaks through the air, enveloping the Raróg’s beak and down to the neck. The beast thrashes, desperate to rid itself of the smoke. The smoke swirls violently, then dissipates.

  Its head is gone.

  Finn stares, stunned. “Inky?” It’s the only explanation that comes to mind.

  Before he can think further, another wave of attacks is launched at them. There’s no time to ponder—only to fight.

  As the battle rages, Finn realises this ambush was premeditated, with the enemy having a commander. But their strategy is flawed. Humans are faster, their tactics more adaptable. The predators’ numbers dwindle until no force remains to turn the tide.

  The battle rages for another hour, but the outcome is clear. One by one, the beasts fall or flee. By the time the storm fades, only the Sanctuary’s fighters remain standing.

  Exhausted, but victorious.