Kolma was in disarray. All the townspeople had gathered in the town square, pale faces everywhere, fear hanging thick in the air.

Ralph had made it back and immediately went to speak with Mayor Brahm, ignoring his battered and injured body. Bruises covered him, his breathing was uneven, but he didn’t care.

He had to ask for help—Teclos and Gillard were still out there, fighting for their lives.

But Brahm barely entertained the plea. He sent Ralph to the church to be healed instead, telling him his strength would still be needed for the evacuation. Charging back into the forest now would be nothing but a suicide mission, and most likely, all they would find were bodies.

The news itself was devastating.

But what frightened them more was what the orcs’ presence truly meant.

Not only could it mean that a whole army had come, judging by the strength of the one that had nearly killed Ralph—it also meant there was a breach through the deadly mountains. A breach that had never been possible before.

Kolma could very well be on the front line of the war now.

The first to hear about the situation were Brahm, Axel, Gunvald, and Ezekiel.

Brahm reacted immediately. He ordered Gunvald to raise the alarm and gather every guard, then turned to Ezekiel and asked if he could raise a jagged rock wall in front of Kolma’s existing defenses. They needed more protection, and they needed it now.

At the same time, they had to start planning an evacuation.

Ezekiel and Gunvald nodded and got to work at once.

Axel then tapped Brahm on the shoulder and slowly shook his head.

"I’m afraid there is no escape here, old chap. They have us surrounded already."

The words crushed every hope he had almost.

And his words prooved to be right soon.

Just as the alarm bell rang, echoing across Kolma, shapes began to appear beyond the edges of the settlement. And as those shapes walked ever closer, it was clear who ar what they were.

Kolma was surrounded on all sides by a massive army of orcs.

There were hundreds of them.

And worse still, each flank had its own commander—each one radiating a presence comparable to the flame-slinging monster Ralph had barely escaped from.

Even Axel didn’t think he could punch through them.

He immediately recognized that those orcs were strong, and he only had old men way past their prime for help.

Back in the square, chaos spread quickly, panic rippling through the gathered crowd.

Voices rose. People shouted. Some began to cry.

"Calm down!" Brahm shouted from a hastily built platform. "We have capable people working to get you to safety! Trust us! We will pull through!"

His words barely reached them. The danger was too close, and fear had already spread too deeply through the crowd.

Still, some managed to calm themselves.

Then the hunters gathered in the town square, weapons in hand, their expressions grim and focused. Whatever fear they felt, they buried it beneath duty and resolve.

Their families were behind them, and they would protect them at all costs.

—

Separate from all this, six parents rushed toward the church, dread clawing at their chests.

What they saw there was disheartening, to say the least.

Ralph was laying there, all bandaged, and receiving healing from Pella. His body was battered, but he was concious and alive.

When he saw them, the only words he could manage to say were, "I’m sorry..."

His voice was weak, but filled with guilt.

He hadn’t lost hope yet—but judging by the Brahm’s reaction... help wasn’t coming.

Ralph’s parents rushed forward and embraced him tightly, relief breaking through their fear as they thanked God he was alive.

The others...

Broke down.

Both mothers cried out at once, a shrill, broken "No!" tearing from their throats as tears streamed down their faces.

In that moment, the truth ripped their hearts out.

Their sons were not coming back, and their worlds collapsed.

The fathers however were furious.

They stormed outside so as to not destroy the church.

Drada shouted in anger—his fist crashed into a nearby house, tearing through the wall as if it were nothing, splinters and debris scattering across the ground inside.

Talmir tried to contain his rage, but his mana betrayed him.

A single tear streaked down his face as wind erupted around him, howling with enough force to tear a well from the ground and rip through three nearby houses. Wood and stone were shredded apart as if caught in the heart of a storm.

Then Saldia ran out, radiating a sharp and cold aura.

"Talmir!"

He turned around and immediately, expected anger, expecting her to scold him for the destruction.

But that didn’t happen.

"Where is Brahm?!" she demanded, her voice low and laced with fury. A chilling mist spread from her, the air around her grew heavy. "I’m going to rip his head off!"

He frowned, confused. "Why?"

She told him what Ralph had said. Every word.

She was understandably angry, but to Talmir, her words meant something entirely different.

"You... you mean they could still be alive?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly as hope returned—fragile, desperate, and painful.

That stopped Saldia in her tracks.

He was right.

As much as rage burned through her, something mattered more right now than ripping Brahm’s head off.

Without another word, she stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I know I can’t stop you..." she whispered, her voice trembling despite her earlier anger. "But can you promise me that both of you will come back safely?"

"I promise..." Talmir said.

Even if it was a lie, he would make it true somehow.

"Be careful..." she whispered, holding him tighter.

At that moment, Drada stepped closer, having overheard their conversation. His face was wet with tears, and his breathing was uneven.

He grabbed Talmir by the collar.

"Listen here, Talmir!" he choked out. "I have a mythril sword mixed with cold iron and mythril armor reinforced with black steel in my workshop... take them. Do whatever you can to bring back my boy too...I beg of you!"

He was shaking, barely holding himself together, as he also clung to the hope that Gillard was still alive.

Talmir couldn’t bring himself to refuse so he just nodded.

And gave him his word.

Then he rushed off. He needed Kosak for his plan to work—and he needed that armor and sword.

—

Meanwhile, back in the town square, the guild staff began distributing spatial rings filled with top-tier gear—armor, swords, bombs.

This was war.

It would take no prisoners.

So they used everything at their disposal.

All warriors were ordered to hold the wall and form a line of defense. Meanwhile, under Brahm’s command, a select few gathered at the center, preparing to dig a tunnel beneath the orc encirclement.

Ezekiel stood among them, leading the effort. He was one of the few capable of resisting counterattacks from earth-attributed orcs, which made his presence there essential.

If everything went well... Kolma’s people might still escape.

—

Kosak stood at the gates, staring grimly at the orc army, mentally preparing himself for the battle ahead.

When Talmir suddenly descended beside him, clad in epic grade armor, and a matching sword at his side.

Kosak let out a short laugh.

"Haha... that’s some blatant favoritism, isn’t it?"

But the moment he saw Talmir’s face, the humor died instantly.

"Oh no... what crazy thing are you planning now?"

"There’s no time to explain," Talmir said firmly. "I need to rescue my son, he’s outside...."

Kosak froze.

Outside? Where outside?

He pointed toward the orc army, with a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Ha... haha... surely you don’t mean there."

Talmir nodded.

Kosak slowly shook his head, disbelief written all over his face.

"And how the hell are we supposed to get past a horde of orcs?!"

"You’ll figure something out," Talmir replied without hesitation. "If it comes to stealth, you’re the best earth mage we have."

Kosak opened his mouth to argue, to protest, and to call him insane—but the look in Talmir’s eyes stopped him.

That unshakable stubbornness.

He sighed.

There was no talking him out of this insane idea.

—

Meanwhile the evacuation had already begun.

People were moving in tight groups, guided toward the tunnel Ezekiel had carved beneath the town. The air was thick with fear, children clinging to their parents, voices hushed but trembling. No one needed to be told what would happen if they failed.

Above them, the battle had suddenly erupted.

A thunderous clash shook Kolma as the first line of defenders met the orc army head-on. Steel rang against crude iron, arrows streaked through the air like dark rain, and magic tore across the battlefield in violent bursts of light and sound.

The humans were already losing ground.

But aslong as they were buying enough time, it was fine to loose.

Nearby, Pella and Gunvald fought like mad beasts.

Pella’s magic surged through his body, strengthening him as he threw himself fully into the offensive. He cleaved through orcs left and right, driving them back with brutal force. while the priests behind him healed his wounds and formed shields around the hunters and guards just in time to stop crushing blows.

Their flank held, for now.

Gunvald held the other flank, lightning cracking violently around him. With a single gesture, bolts tore through the battlefield, frying rows of orcs before they could even reach the wall.

—

Amid the chaos, Kosak made sure to avoid the commander-class orcs and instead chose a weaker flank to breach through the horde.

The battlefield was too frantic, too chaotic, and that played right into their hands. With mana clashing everywhere and warriors dying on all sides, even a commander would struggle to notice them approaching.

"Now," he said.

Talmir didn’t argue and followed after him.

Kosak slammed his foot into the ground. The earth split open beneath them, forming a narrow tunnel barely wide enough for them to squeeze through.

The tunnel was narrow by design—large enough for them to pass through, but small enough to stay hidden from the earth-bending orcs in the chaos above.

"Stay close," Kosak muttered.

They moved out quickly.

Above them, explosions tore across the battlefield, and the heavy march of orcs thundered over their heads. The tunnel barely held, dust and loose soil raining down with every violent tremor.

When the last heavy footsteps faded above them, they knew they had passed beneath the orc line.

Behind them, Kolma burned and roared with battle, steel and magic clashing together in a desperate symphony.

But right now, only one thing mattered.

Bringing the boys back.

So they made haste.

Branches whipped past them, roots threatened to catch their feet, but neither of them slowed down. There was no time too loose.

"Where did he say?" Kosak asked between breaths.

"Near the clearing past the river," Talmir replied as he ran. "Where the forest starts thinning."

Kosak submerged into the soil and sped up, while talmir took flight.

They rushed forwardas fast as they could. At first, the forest seemed normal, but after some time the signs began to appear.

Scorch marks scarred the earth, and the trees around them stood splintered and burned.

Deep gouges ran through the ground, as if a massive explosion had torn through the area without restraint.

Kosak slowed slightly, his eyes narrowing.

"...Yeah," he muttered. "We’re on the right track, all right."

Talmir’s pace quickened.

Burned patches scarred the ground. Trees had been sliced apart, pitfalls split the earth open, jagged spikes rose from the soil, and shattered boulders lay half-sunken in the damp mud. The forest had been utterly ruined.

Then, somewhere along the path, the air shifted.

A subtle mist began to spread between the trees.

Dark mist.

Talmir felt it immediately.

That mana...

It was familiar.

Something like this had happened before—back in Ragla village.

Hope surged through him, it was his son.

Teclos, he had to be alive!

Only...this...

It wasn’t quite the same thing as Ragla...

This mana was furious.

Sinister.

Still, even when he knew that something was wrong Talmir pushed forward.

Nothing mattered more than finding his son.

Kosak, on the other hand, was different.

His expression hardened, unease and nervousness settling deep inside his chest.

"...what the hell is this?" he muttered quietly.

Kosak glanced around, stretching his senses outward.

"This feels like... death," he muttered. "Like undead mana... but somehow worse?"

The mist grew heavier with each step.

And finnaly after a while—

They reached it.

The epicenter of this sinister aura.

Teclos

He was kneeling in front of a tree, not moving an inch.

Around him, pitch-black mana swirled violently, thick and suffocating, almost beastlike in its intensity. It felt like pure rage, hatred, and sadness had been mixed together into something dark and viscous.

It almost obscured his entire figure.

The darkness twisted and pulsed like something alive, reacting to nothing—

And everything.

Talmir took a step forward—

But Kosak did not move.

His eyes widened slowly, horror settling over his face as he took in the scene before him.

Around Teclos...

Lay six orc corpses.

Or what remained of them.

Their limbs had been torn clean off. Jaws were ripped apart, eyes gouged out, and necks twisted at unnatural angles. Their bodies had been beaten so badly they were barely recognizable, while thick, dark blood soaked the ground beneath them.

These were not the marks of a desperate fight for survival.

This was slaughter.

Brutal and excessive Murder.

Kosak staggered back, his stomach twisting so violently that he barely managed to turn away in time.

Then he vomited.

Talmir averted his gaze, his jaw tightening as he forced himself not to look too closely.

Even if they were orcs...

This wasn’t something normal.

Teclos was still kneeling there, surrounded by that dark, bloodthirsty mana.

He did not respond to their presence.

Did not react to Talmir’s calls.

He was just... there.

And for the first time, Talmir hesitated.