The scratching grew louder.
Closer.
Then a claw appeared over the edge.
Several children gasped.
Another claw followed.
Then a furry arm.
The creature hauled itself upward with surprising speed.
A gnoll.
Its head emerged first.
Then its shoulders.
Then its entire body climbed onto the top of the Stone Bastion.
For a brief moment, it stood there silhouetted against the evening sky.
The monster looked nothing like the goblins.
It was taller than a man.
Lean, muscular, and built like a hunting beast.
Dust covered its fur while its chest rose and fell rapidly.
Its yellow eyes scanned the area below.
Then it spotted the recovery teams.
Leon felt his heart stop.
The gnoll's gaze locked onto him.
Not the guards.
Not the adventurers.
Him.
For a split second, neither moved.
Then the monster jumped.
Several children screamed.
The gnoll crashed into the ground barely a few meters away from Leon.
The impact sent dirt and loose stones flying in every direction.
Leon stumbled backward and fell onto the ground.
The recovered arrows scattered from his hands.
The gnoll landed on all fours before immediately rising to its full height.
Up close, it looked even larger.
Its claws were longer than knives.
Its jaws were filled with yellow fangs stained with blood.
A low growl rumbled from its throat.
Leon froze.
The battlefield suddenly felt very far away.
The guards.
The walls.
The adventurers.
Everything disappeared.
All he could see was the monster standing before him.
The gnoll lowered its body.
Preparing to pounce.
Leon tried to move.
His body refused.
The spear beside him suddenly felt impossibly far away.
The monster lunged.
Then something blurred across his vision.
A spinning object cut through the air with a sharp whistle.
WHOOOSH.
The gnoll didn't even have time to react.
A flash of steel passed through its neck and chest.
For a brief moment, the creature continued moving.
Then its body split apart.
Blood erupted into the air.
The upper half tumbled one direction.
The lower half collapsed the other.
The gnoll hit the ground in two separate pieces.
Silence.
Leon stared.
His mind refused to process what he had just witnessed.
The boomerang continued flying past him before curving through the air.
Like it had a mind of its own.
The weapon arced across the battlefield and returned toward the defensive lines.
A gloved hand casually caught it.
Only then did Leon realize who had thrown it.
Boom Boom.
The massive warrior stood atop the wall with another boomerang already resting in his other hand.
"Kid!"
His voice echoed across the battlefield.
Leon flinched.
"If you're going to die, at least wait until I finish killing the ugly ones first!"
A few nearby guards barked out nervous laughter.
Leon couldn't.
His eyes remained fixed on the two halves of the gnoll lying in the dirt.
The smell of blood suddenly became overwhelming.
His hands trembled.
His heart pounded against his chest.
The creature had been alive a second ago.
A second.
That was all that separated him from death.
Then another shower of dirt fell from the top of the Bastion.
This time nobody needed to ask what it meant.
More gnolls were climbing.
---
Leon's hands still trembled.
The dead gnoll beside him refused to leave his thoughts.
Every time he looked away, he could still see it.
The claws.
The teeth.
The blood.
If Boom Boom had been a moment later, he would have been the one lying on the ground instead.
Another shower of dirt fell from the Stone Bastion.
The battle wasn't stopping.
If anything, it was getting worse.
More gnolls were climbing over the wall.
Some landed safely.
Some slipped.
Some were intercepted by guards before they could regain their footing.
The recovery area had become complete chaos.
Children ran between supply piles.
Guards rushed from one landing point to another.
Adventurers barked orders while trying to cover every opening.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos were Lulu and Lala.
Leon wasn't entirely sure what they were doing.
Neither were the gnolls.
"Flying visitor, Lulu!"
"Flying visitor, Lala!"
A fishing hook shot through the air.
The hook somehow wrapped itself around a gnoll's arm.
Before the creature could even understand what happened, Lulu yanked on the line.
The gnoll crashed sideways into the dirt.
Then Lala appeared.
The colorful umbrella opened with a loud snap before slamming directly into the side of the creature's head.
The gnoll rolled across the ground.
Stunned.
Confused.
The two masked children immediately moved on to another target as if this was perfectly normal battlefield behavior.
Leon simply stared.
_How is that even working?_
The gnoll tried to push itself back onto its feet.
Nobody was close enough to stop it.
The nearest guard was already fighting another gnoll.
The creature slowly rose.
One claw.
Then another.
Its attention immediately shifted toward Lulu and Lala.
Leon felt his stomach tighten.
The two didn't seem to notice.
Or maybe they didn't care.
It was impossible to tell with those masks.
The gnoll took a step forward.
Leon looked at the spear in his hands.
Then at the gnoll.
Then back at the spear.
_Move._
His body refused.
The gnoll took another step.
_Move._
His grip tightened.
Months of training suddenly flashed through his mind.
Not words.
Not lectures.
Movements.
Footwork.
Distance.
Balance.
Thrust.
Recover.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The same drills he had complained about countless times.
The same drills he thought he would never use.
The gnoll lowered its body.
Preparing to lunge.
And suddenly Leon found himself running.
The distance vanished before he could second-guess himself.
The gnoll turned.
Its yellow eyes widened.
Leon thrust.
Not perfectly.
Not skillfully.
Just straight.
The spear entered through the side of the creature's throat.
For a brief moment, everything stopped.
The gnoll's body jerked.
Its claws clawed at empty air.
Blood spilled down the shaft.
Warm.
Too warm.
The creature collapsed.
Dead.
Leon froze.
His hands remained locked around the spear.
The corpse lay motionless before him.
Dead.
Because of him.
A horrible feeling rose from his stomach.
Leon staggered backward.
Then bent over.
The contents of his stomach spilled onto the dirt.
His throat burned.
His eyes watered.
The smell of blood only made it worse.
For several seconds he could do nothing but gag.
_I killed it._
The thought refused to leave.
Not a training dummy.
Not a target.
Not a distant monster on the other side of a battlefield.
A living creature.
Another shower of dirt suddenly fell from the Bastion.
A new gnoll landed nearby.
Guards shouted.
Weapons clashed.
Someone screamed.
The battlefield continued as though nothing had happened.
Leon wiped his mouth with his sleeve and looked up.
His hands still shook.
His stomach still churned.
But the gnoll climbing to its feet near Lulu and Lala didn't care about any of that.
Neither did the battlefield.
Neither did the village.
For the first time, Leon understood something Gayrum had tried to tell him earlier.
The battle didn't stop just because you were scared.
So he tightened his grip on the spear once more and started moving.
---
After the first kill, Leon expected the fear to disappear.
It didn't.
The dead gnoll remained where it had fallen. Blood continued dripping from the tip of his spear. Every time he glanced at the corpse, his stomach threatened to revolt again.
Yet the battle refused to stop.
Another gnoll climbed over the Bastion.
Then another.
Then another.
The creatures continued pouring over the wall faster than the guards could intercept them.
Around the recovery area, the situation was becoming increasingly chaotic.
"All children fall back!"
One of the guards shouted.
"Move! Move! Move!"
Several trainees immediately abandoned their arrow bundles and ran toward the safer sections behind the defensive lines.
Boom Boom was already helping with the evacuation.
Or at least Leon assumed he was helping.
The strange child was somehow directing people while throwing his oversized boomerang at the same time.
"Go that way!"
The boomerang flew.
A gnoll lost its head.
The weapon curved back.
"Not that way!"
A child immediately changed direction.
"That way!"
The boomerang flew again.
Another gnoll collapsed.
Leon couldn't tell whether Boom Boom was fighting, evacuating people, or simply causing additional confusion.
Somehow he was accomplishing all three.
Meanwhile, Lulu and Lala continued doing whatever it was they called combat.
"Flying visitor, Lulu!"
"Flying visitor, Lala!"
Another fishing hook shot into the air.
A gnoll that had just jumped from the Bastion suddenly found itself yanked sideways before it could properly land.
The creature crashed into the dirt.
The colorful umbrella appeared a moment later.
WHUMP.
The gnoll rolled across the ground.
Disoriented.
Exposed.
And for the first time, Leon moved without thinking.
His feet carried him forward.
The distance closed.
The spear thrust.
The gnoll collapsed.
Leon immediately stepped back.
Recover.
The movement felt strangely familiar.
Another gnoll appeared.
Another hook.
Another pull.
Another umbrella strike.
Another opening.
Leon moved again.
Thrust.
Recover.
Step back.
A third gnoll landed.
The pattern repeated.
At some point, the chaos began making sense.
Not the battlefield.
Not Lulu and Lala.
Nothing about those two would ever make sense.
But their movements created opportunities.
The fishing line disrupted the landing.
The umbrella ruined the creature's balance.
For a brief moment, every gnoll became vulnerable.
And Leon's job was simple.
Step in.
Thrust.
Step out.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The same rhythm from training slowly emerged beneath the chaos.
Distance.
Timing.
Balance.
Recovery.
The countless drills Lambert had forced into him suddenly stopped feeling meaningless.
He wasn't fighting stronger.
He wasn't fighting faster.
He wasn't even fighting particularly well.
He was simply doing the basics.
Over and over.
The way he had practiced hundreds of times before.
Another gnoll dropped from the Bastion.
Lulu's hook caught its leg.
Lala slammed the umbrella into its side.
Leon stepped forward.
The spear struck.
The creature fell.
The three of them immediately moved toward the next one.
No discussion.
No planning.
The pattern simply happened.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Even the nearby guards began noticing.
One shield-bearer intentionally herded a gnoll toward their position.
Another created space whenever he saw Lulu's fishing line fly.
The battlefield slowly adapted around them.
Not because anyone understood what Lulu and Lala were doing.
But because it was somehow working.
For the first time since the battle began, Leon stopped feeling like a frightened child trapped on a battlefield.
He wasn't calm.
He wasn't fearless.
His heart still pounded every time a new gnoll appeared.
But he was moving.
Acting.
Contributing.
Then another gnoll climbed over the Bastion.
And this one wasn't alone.
Several more claws appeared beside it.
Then more.
Then more.
Leon felt his stomach tighten as a line of gnolls began pulling themselves over the wall.
The brief rhythm they had found was about to be tested.
---
Behind the shield wall, Gayrum finally pushed himself away from the replacement staff provided by the reserve teams.
The older adventurer rolled his shoulders and let out a tired sigh.
"Well..."
He looked toward the endless stream of gnolls entering the funnel.
"I suppose standing around is over."
A nearby guard immediately hurried toward a supply cart.
Moments later, several adventurers carried over a massive tower shield.
The shield looked more like a castle gate than battlefield equipment.
Its surface was covered in scratches and old battle scars.
Yet what drew attention were the strange markings engraved across the metal.
The symbols curved along the shield's edges and intertwined across its center in deliberate patterns.
Not decorative.
Purposeful.
Gayrum grabbed the shield without hesitation.
Next came a heavy warhammer.
Unlike Boom Boom's ridiculous rubber hammer, this one was unmistakably a weapon of war.
The steel head was stained by countless battles.
And just like the shield, strange symbols had been carved throughout the metal.
As Gayrum fastened the final strap, Leon would have immediately noticed something.
The markings weren't limited to the shield.
They ran across portions of Gayrum's full plate armor as well.
Lines.
Symbols.
Patterns.
Some engraved into metal.
Others inlaid with darker materials.
The older adventurer looked less like a knight and more like a walking collection of strange writings.
Around his neck hung the same ruby pendant Lambert carried.
A crimson dragon carved from gemstone.
The ruby caught the sunlight whenever he moved.
Seven rings rested across his fingers.
Each one bore different symbols.
Different markings.
Different designs.
Lambert glanced sideways.
"Took you long enough."
Gayrum snorted.
"Says the man who needed half a village to kill some oversized dogs."
Several nearby guards immediately looked away.
Neither veteran paid them any attention.
Lambert planted his spear into the ground.
"You've gotten slower."
Gayrum laughed.
"I was about to say the same thing."
He adjusted the shield on his arm.
"You've rusted this much already?"
A vein appeared on Lambert's forehead.
"Rust?"
"Back in the day you'd have cleared half this funnel by now."
Gayrum pointed toward the corpse pile.
"Look at that."
He clicked his tongue dramatically.
"Pathetic."
Several adventurers immediately started grinning.
Lambert's eye twitched.
"Keep talking."
"Oh, I will."
Gayrum rested the warhammer against his shoulder.
"You spent too much time yelling at children."
A nearby guard suddenly found the horizon very interesting.
Another pretended to inspect his spear.
Nobody wanted to be involved in this conversation.
Lambert slowly cracked his neck.
"You want to compare numbers after this?"
Gayrum's grin widened.
"Now that's the Lambert I remember."
The two veterans stepped toward the front ranks.
And only then did the difference between them and ordinary adventurers become obvious.
The other adventurers carried markings too.
Davion had several engraved along the center of his shield.
A few symbols ran down the shaft of his spear.
Reinhart's weapon bore similar markings near the blade.
Even Siegfried's glaive contained several symbols worked into the steel.
But compared to Lambert and Gayrum...
The difference was impossible to ignore.
Where the younger adventurers possessed a handful of markings, Lambert and Gayrum seemed covered in them.
Weapons.
Armor.
Jewelry.
Even portions of their equipment carried the same strange symbols.
The veterans moved to the front of the formation.
The gnolls continued charging.
The defenders tightened their ranks.
And for the first time, several of the younger guards found themselves wondering the same thing.
What exactly were those markings?
---
The moment Gayrum stepped into the frontline, the battle became noticeably more one-sided.
The gnolls continued charging into the funnel.
They continued dying.
The narrow corridor had become so congested with bodies that many of the creatures were no longer fighting the defenders.
They were fighting the terrain.
Dead gnolls piled on top of one another.
Some slipped while climbing over corpses.
Others became trapped between the bodies of their own allies.
Every mistake was fatal.
Davion remained at the center of the formation.
Reliable.
Steady.
Unmoving.
A gnoll finally managed to reach the shield wall and swung its axe.
The attack never landed.
Davion's shield met it head-on.
The axe bounced away.
His spear immediately answered.
The tip punched through the creature's eye socket.
Without even watching it fall, Davion withdrew the weapon and struck another target.
Block.
Thrust.
Recover.
Step.
Again.
And again.
The battlefield changed around him.
Davion did not.
A few positions away, Siegfried looked increasingly annoyed.
Not by the battle.
By how long it was taking.
A gnoll lunged.
His glaive flashed.
The creature's arm separated from its body.
The momentum carried the gnoll forward several more steps before it finally realized part of itself was missing.
Then the second strike came.
Its head followed the arm.
"...Finally."
Another gnoll appeared.
A quick thrust entered beneath its jaw.
Dead.
Another.
Dead.
Another.
Dead.
Siegfried yawned.
A nearby guard looked horrified.
Siegfried looked bored.
Meanwhile, Reinhart was turning the funnel into a nightmare.
A gnoll rushed him.
His spear struck low.
The creature's knee exploded inward.
Before it could fall, the second strike pierced its shoulder.
The third entered through its throat.
Another gnoll climbed over the corpse pile.
Reinhart's spear swept sideways.
A wrist snapped.
The weapon fell.
A second thrust entered the creature's mouth.
Dead.
Every strike seemed chosen beforehand.
Every weakness exploited.
Every opening punished.
The veteran didn't merely kill.
He dismantled.
Around them, the rest of the adventurers performed no worse.
Halberds hacked through limbs.
Spears pierced throats.
Warhammers crushed skulls with sickening cracks.
Blood soaked the funnel.
The dirt had long since disappeared beneath layers of mud, gore, and shattered bodies.
At some point, the defenders stopped counting kills.
There were simply too many.
The corpse pile continued growing.
Knee-high.
Waist-high.
Then higher.
The gnolls were literally climbing over mountains of their own dead.
And still the defenders held.
Even Gayrum had joined the slaughter.
The veteran fought nothing like the younger adventurers.
Where they relied on speed and technique, Gayrum fought with overwhelming force.
A gnoll reached the front.
His shield slammed forward.
The impact shattered ribs.
The creature folded around the metal before collapsing beneath the feet of its allies.
Another attempted to leap over the corpse pile.
The warhammer rose.
Then fell.
The skull burst apart on impact.
Blood and bone scattered across nearby corpses.
Gayrum didn't even slow down.
"That's one."
Lambert snorted.
"One?"
A gnoll lunged.
Lambert's spear punched through its throat.
"You're still counting?"
Gayrum grinned.
"Need to make sure I don't embarrass you."
Lambert's eye twitched.
"You were already embarrassing yourself when you arrived."
The two veterans continued fighting without looking at one another.
Years of experience made the exchange feel strangely natural.
Around them, the defenders gradually relaxed.
The gnolls were still coming.
But they were losing.
Badly.
The corpse pile in front of the funnel had become a wall of flesh.
Hundreds of bodies.
Hundreds of dead gnolls.
The attack was collapsing under its own weight.
One guard actually laughed.
"They can't keep this up!"
Several others agreed.
The veterans said nothing.
They had fought too many battles to celebrate early.
Then a horn echoed across the plains.
The sound rolled over the battlefield like distant thunder.
Every gnoll froze.
Not all of them.
Just enough for the veterans to notice.
Lambert immediately looked up.
Gayrum stopped mid-swing.
The defenders fell silent.
Another horn followed.
Deeper.
Louder.
And far beyond the sea of dead gnolls, a second dust cloud began rising above the horizon.
Much larger than the first.
Much larger than anyone wanted to see.
The second wave had arrived.