The defenses were ready.
Walls reinforced.
Mages stationed along parapets.
Archers with fire-tipped arrows nocked and trembling.
Fighters in layered armor gripping weapons with white knuckles.
Every eye was fixed on the forest.
Waiting.
Rex stood near the front, breathing slowly. He deactivated the fire focus and slid the earth focus into place. The moment it locked, he crouched and pressed his palm to the ground.
"Terra."
A dark green circle spread outward beneath him, faint runes pulsing like a heartbeat. The ground responded—listening.
Beside him, Dorian's hammer ignited with blue flame. The fire didn't flicker like normal fire—it coiled, sharp and deliberate, wrapping the weapon like a living thing.
He was ready.
He hated that he was ready.
Then—
Silence.
Not the calm-before-the-storm kind.
The wrong kind.
No wind.
No insects.
No birds.
Just a suffocating stillness that pressed against the ears.
Then branches snapped.
Trees bent.
And from the shadows stumbled the infected boar.
One of the mages didn't hesitate. "Fireball!"
The spell slammed into the creature and detonated in a bloom of flame. The boar collapsed, burned and broken.
Dead.
For a moment, hope sparked.
Then more shapes emerged.
Dozens.
Some still recognizable as animals—wolves, elk, twisted deer. Others were wrong. Bodies half-consumed, limbs fused together, forms that no longer resembled anything living.
They ran.
The raid had begun.
Rex swung his arm forward.
The earth answered.
Jagged spikes erupted from the ground in a sweeping arc, cleaving the horde into two groups. One veered toward the walls. The other charged the fighters below.
Mages unleashed spell after spell, fire and lightning ripping through the first wave—but the monsters were too fast. Faster than casting rhythms. Faster than expected.
Rex didn't hesitate.
He swapped focuses mid-run.
"Aer."
Air compressed beneath him—then exploded.
He launched forward, landing hard in front of the wall. Instantly he switched back.
"Terra!"
His hand slammed down. A forest of spikes erupted, impaling monsters and forming a brutal barricade. The mages adjusted, spells tearing through trapped bodies with surgical efficiency.
It was working.
Then Rex saw the other flank.
The physical fighters were being pushed back.
Iris—fully armored—stood at the front, blade flashing. Dorian was beside her, blue fire hammer shattering bodies with each swing. But behind them, the line was bending.
Too many.
Rex moved.
Air—burst—jump.
Earth—slam.
A wall of spikes surged up between fighters and monsters, buying seconds—precious seconds. Archers behind loosed fire arrows, flames spreading across blackened flesh.
Everything was controlled.
Everything was going right.
Then Rex noticed something wrong.
Some of the monsters weren't attacking.
They were climbing over each other.
Piling together.
Merging.
Dorian saw it too.
"REX—ATTACK NOW!"
Rex swapped to fire.
"Ignis!"
He punched.
The fire didn't stop it.
The mass convulsed—and rose.
A colossal shape pulled itself free, towering over the battlefield. Fused flesh hardened into armor. Tusks curved outward. A grotesque parody of a woolly mammoth bellowed, its roar shaking the walls.
It charged.
The earth wall shattered like glass.
Mages were thrown aside.
Rex turned sharply. "DORIAN—WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THAT?!"
Dorian didn't hesitate. "LEAVE IT TO ME."
He sprinted.
Jumped.
And brought the hammer down with everything he had.
Blue fire erupted.
The hammerhead exploded on impact.
So did the monster.
Its chest caved in, body collapsing into burning ruin.
Dorian landed hard—breathing, standing—but Rex saw it.
More monsters.
Endless.
Pouring from the forest.
Rex turned and ran.
"REX—WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!" Dorian shouted.
He didn't answer.
Inside his head—
Sage: What are you planning?
Rex: They're all coming from the forest.
Sage: So?
Rex: Their weakness is fire.
Noir: YES—BURN IT. BURN IT ALL.
Rex raised his Gauntlet.
"Ignis."
Flames burst forth—and licked the trees.
He stopped.
Noir snarled. Why did you stop?!
Sage: Fire won't spread fast enough. You can't burn it all before they reach the village.
Rex inhaled.
Then switched focuses.
"Aer."
Air flowed into the Gauntlet.
More.
More.
He siphoned until his arm shook, condensing pressure tighter and tighter, veins standing out in his neck.
Noir: What are you—
Sage: …I think I know.
Rex released.
The explosion wasn't fire.
It was wind.
A massive shockwave blasted through the treeline—feeding oxygen into every flame, ripping fire outward in a roaring inferno.
The forest ignited.
Instantly.
Screams echoed from within—not voices, but something worse.
"RUN!" Sage shouted.
Rex ran.
He barely made it out before the heat chased him down. He collapsed at the forest's edge, chest heaving, vision swimming.
Behind him, the entire forest burned.
The Star-Rot screamed as it died.
Dorian reached him seconds later. "Rex—are you good?!"
Rex coughed, then weakly smiled. "Yeah… dealt with the root problem."
Dorian laughed breathlessly. "All monsters neutralized. Village is standing."
Rex groaned. "Mostly fine… except my clothes… my hair… and I'm about to pass out."
Dorian nodded. "You fought and won your first Star-Rot raid. Rest."
The adrenaline finally gave up.
Rex went limp.
Dorian caught him and lifted him easily.
Iris approached, surveying the burning forest. "How is he?"
"No physical injuries," Dorian said. "Just exhausted."
"Did you train him?" Iris asked.
Dorian shook his head. "No."
She hummed. "Then he's either had another teacher… or he's just that adaptable."
Dorian smiled faintly. "Probably the second."
Iris laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Then get out of here. Take the kid home. We'll handle the rest."
Dorian paused. "Mom."
"Yes?"
"…Thank you."
She smiled softly. "You never had anything to thank me for."
As Dorian walked away with Rex, Iris called out, "Say hi to Lira for me!"
Dorian chuckled. "Will do."
Behind them, the forest burned.
And for once—
The night was quiet again.