CHAPTER 1107: DYING

The battle was happening within the huge storm. Rain and mud turned the forest floor into a churning mire where men, horses, and Direwolves clashed in chaos trying to kill each other.

The air was thick with steam and smoke from burning spells. The flashes of Magic lighting the fog and rain.

Bolts of fire streaked across the rain and sizzled hot as they met the downpour and exploded against the fur and flesh of the Direwolves.

The wolves howled in pain and anger, their bodies were hit by the spells before they died. Arrows laced with Magic tore through the air, spinning trails of energy that shredded through packs of Direwolves in wide arcs.

Despite the plan to stick together in a circle, the situation eventually forced them to split apart. One group of adventurers held their line on a slope. Their shields were locked and glowing with runes.

A massive white Direwolf lunged through the curtain of rain but a fighter met it directly. His enchanted greatsword cleaving through its skull in a single glowing strike.

Blood mixed with mud beneath his boots as he swung again and again with gritted teeth.

To the west another team formed a circle of their own. The Mages within raised their staves high, chanting through the downpour.

A sudden surge of light burst outward and a moment later a barrier of runes shimmered into being, pushing back the Direwolves that clawed at it.

Another Mages from a different group unleashed a spear of ice that pierced five beasts in one thrust, then shattered, turning into shards that impaled more of them.

But every time they cleared space, the fog filled it again with more eyes and more teeth.

The sound was deafening. Enchanted blades clashing with claws, Magic roaring, and Direwolves snarling in every direction.

Sparks flew as blades met claws. A Rogue darted between the beasts, his daggers glowing green as he cut through tendons and throats. For every kill two more beasts came at him. Their strength, their numbers, and their fury were never stopped.

Finally a line broke among them. One adventurer was dragged down beneath a lunging Direwolf, his scream drowned beneath the storm.

His comrades fought to reach him, slashing wildly, but it was too late. The beast tore into his chest and vanished into the fog with his body.

A moment later, a fire blast consumed a section of the forest, the heat pushing back the rain for an instant.

Dozens of Direwolves burned, their corpses writhing before falling still. But the momentary light revealed how hopeless it was. More Direwolves circled in from every side, their shapes endless in the mist.

An archer who was still on a horseback shot arrow after arrow, her movements precise even as her horse stumbled through the muck.

Lightning struck her quiver as she drew her final shot, channeling the bolt into the arrow.

It hit her target and bursting through the heads of three wolves at once. But then one leapt from the side and crushed her beneath its weight.

Bodies dying, spells dimmed, and the ground became thick with blood.

Even as the adventurers fought fiercely, the tide never turned. Their formation began to collapse under sheer exhaustion and number.

But they still fought bitterly even when surrounded and when the fog swallowed their comrades’ dying shouts. Their Magic still burned against the storm.

But eventually the storm swallowed everything in no time. Their shouts, pain, and light of their spells were gone.

The rain fell harder, drenching armor and soaking cloaks until they clung heavily on their body.

Every swing of a weapon grew slower. The spells cracked through ragged breath. The mud was deep enough to drag down the fallen and trap the wounded.

A man stumbled as a Direwolf slammed into him. Its claws ripped through his breastplate and sent him crashing into the ground.

His partner’s sword cut the beast down a second later but it was too late. The man’s blood was already pooling dark in the mud, washed away by the rain.

Another Mage screamed when her barrier shattered. The dozen wolves surged through the broken ring like a wave.

She tried to cast again, but a massive jaw clamped down on her shoulder and dragged her into the dark. Her staff flew from her hand, the crystal still glowing weakly before flickering out in the mud.

A fighter swung his axe until his arms gave out. His armor was dented, torn, painted red in just a matter of minutes.

When three wolves jumped at him at once he caught one by the neck and crushed it before the others pulled him down and sinking their teeth into his throat and gut.

The storm flashed white with every spell, but each burst was shorter and weaker.

Another fighter’s sword blazed with light before dimming as he fell to his knees. He had been the last holding the front line for his team. The wolves leapt onto him and the light vanished under a storm of claws.

Fear turned to desperation. They had fought with their strength, skill, and courage, but it was not enough against this many enemies.

The Direwolves kept coming endlessly and relentlessly. Their eyes glowed through the fog.

One adventurer who was the leader of his group raised his sword and shouted through the chaos. His voice cracked with fury and terror. "Fall back! Run! Run now!"

Those who heard him hesitated only for a heartbeat before instinct took over.

He turned and slashed at a wolf that lunged toward his Mage companion, cutting deep through its side.

"Move!" he roared again, grabbing the Mage by the arm and pulling her with him through the mud.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t care who else was left behind.

His breath burned in his chest as he helped his group push through the slaughter.

Behind them, the screams continued.

The storm devoured the sound of retreating footsteps. Lightning flickered, revealing the forest floor littered with corpses of adventurers and beasts.

The survivors ran through the downpour. Their lungs screaming and their hearts pounding in terror.

None of them dared to look back at the battlefield where the other adventurers who used to march with them died.

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