Something inside Teclos twisted violently.

It was not only the pain still pulsing through every blackened vein, or the agony scraping through his lungs with each shallow breath. For one brief moment, hatred resurfaced—burning hotter than all of it combined.

The moment he understood that Axel had truly left, his emotions nearly spiraled out of control again.

His vision darkened at the edges. Rage crawled through him like fire, tangled with grief, fear, and the helplessness of being unable to move even a single finger. After everything that had happened, Axel—the one person in that tunnel who could have ended the nightmare—had chosen to abandon them.

Teclos did not notice it at all.

But Ba’hraka had moved.

The pressure grew heavier, as if a mountain had drawn a blade and pointed it down upon them. Dust trembled over the ground. Loose stones rolled away from the orc’s feet. Toby and the others sucked in a sharp, terrified breath.

Then Teclos saw the shadow.

Ba’hraka stood above him, spear already raised high, his monstrous face twisted with fury. His rage was no longer fixed on Axel.

Robbed of the battle he wanted, denied the death he had been reaching for, Ba’hraka turned that hatred toward those who remained.

The mana pressure crushing the tunnel made even breathing seem impossible.

But one man moved.

Even as his body shook violently and blood ran from the corner of his mouth, he forced himself forward.

Talmir.

Just as Ba’hraka’s spear began to fall, something beyond strength dragged him onward.

Desperation.

A father’s instinct.

His hand reached for Teclos, wind gathering desperately around his fingers.

But even with everything he had left, Talmir would not reach him in time.

Teclos understood that.

This was the end.

The spear came crashing down, filling his vision as it descended with enough force to split both him and the stone beneath him in a single blow. He could not dodge. He could not raise an arm. He could not even turn his head away.

So he did the only thing left to him.

He stared straight into the orc’s eyes.

Without flinching.

There was no prayer in his mind. No plea. No desperate begging for his life. Fear had been buried beneath too much pain, too much loss, and too much rage.

If this was how he died, then he would face the thing killing him and curse it with every fiber of his soul.

Ba’hraka saw it.

That defiance.

For the briefest fraction of a second, something changed in the orc’s expression. The fury did not vanish, but something flickered beneath it.

Recognition.

Maybe even respect.

A broken, bloodied, and battered human who could no longer move, who could not even crawl away from death—yet still, he refused to lower his eyes.

Ba’hraka saw him not as prey, but as a warrior now.

As the spear descended for the final inch.

Just before it struck—

A burst of green light tore through the far end of the tunnel.

It ripped through dust, smoke, and darkness in a single violent streak, cutting across the battlefield faster than Teclos could fully understand. One moment, the spear filled his vision.

The next, that green flash screamed through the air above him.

It was a battle axe.

Wrapped in green mana and humming with enough force to make the tunnel walls shudder. A finger’s width before Ba’hraka’s spear could punch through Teclos’s skull, the axe slammed into it.

The impact cracked like thunder.

Ba’hraka’s spear was knocked aside at the last possible moment, its edge missing Teclos by so little that the force of it tore across his face. The weapon slammed into the ground instead, pinned there beneath the axe.

Teclos was blown several meters back by the pressure alone.

Through the dust and shattered stone, Father Pella emerged, one hand still extended from the throw.

His robes were torn, his face streaked with blood and dirt, but his eyes remained steady. Green mana burned around him, shrouding his entire body like a living flame.

He looked first at Ba’hraka.

Then at Teclos.

Pella lowered his stance.

And disappeared.

Ba’hraka barely had time to turn before Pella’s fist slammed into his face.

The impact detonated through the tunnel like a boulder launched from a siege engine. The orc’s head snapped sideways, blood and saliva spraying from his mouth as he staggered half a step. Before he could recover, Pella drove forward again, shoulder-charging into Ba’hraka’s chest with enough force to hurl him back.

Ba’hraka snarled.

"Rakh-nur!"

Stone burst upward beneath Pella’s feet, jagged and violent, but Pella twisted through it and drove his elbow into the orc’s jaw. Ba’hraka retaliated instantly, his spear whipping around in a vicious arc. The tip punched through Pella’s side and burst out the other end in a spray of blood.

But that did not stop him.

Even impaled, he stepped deeper into the strike instead of away from it, trapping the spear inside his own body for a heartbeat as his fist crashed into Ba’hraka’s jaw again. The blow forced the orc back and loosened his grip just enough.

Pella tore himself free and thrust one hand out.

Green mana lashed through the air, ripping the battle axe loose from where it had fallen. It spun back through the tunnel and into Pella’s hand. The moment he caught it, he turned the momentum into a swing aimed straight at Ba’hraka’s neck.

The orc arched backward just in time.

The axe missed by less than an inch.

Blood dripped steadily from the hole in Pella’s side, splashing onto the stone. What should have been a debilitating injury sealed itself with the next step he took toward the orc, his body already preparing for another clash.

Ba’hraka’s eyes narrowed.

For the first time since Axel vanished, he looked fully engaged again.

A savage grin spread across his face.

Axe and spear collided with a sound that hammered through the tunnel. Sparks scattered across the dust. Ba’hraka and Pella both pushed against each other with monstrous strength.

Pella shifted his weight and let the pressure slide past him. His axe hooked the spear’s shaft, dragging it aside before his knee crashed into Ba’hraka’s ribs.

The orc grunted and struck back with his forehead.

Bone met bone. Pella’s nose broke instantly, blood spraying down his mouth, but green light flared before the pain could settle. The crooked bridge snapped back into place with a wet crack, and he swung again.

His axe carved into Ba’hraka’s shoulder.

Stone armor surged beneath the blade, slowing the edge before it could cut cleanly through. Ba’hraka’s face twisted with pain, but he drove a frontal kick into Pella’s chest and slammed him away.

At the same time, the wall behind Pella ruptured.

Jagged stone spears burst out all at once, stabbing through his back, shoulder, and thigh.

For a moment, Pella was pinned.

Then he exhaled.

Green mana burst outward in a violent pulse. His muscles bulged and coiled around the jagged stone spears piercing him, crushing them to dust. Pella tore himself free, his wounds closing even as broken rock slid out of his flesh.

Ba’hraka roared, delighted now, and attacked harder.

Teclos watched through a haze of pain and disbelief.

Pella was not like Axel. He did not dance away from death or evade by a hair’s breadth. He stood in the path of destruction and refused to fall.

But unlike Axel, he was evenly matched.

Then a shout rang out from behind them.

"Forward! Secure the wounded!"

Boots thundered from the entrance side.

Hunters poured through the dust with weapons drawn, crashing into the remaining orcs as quickly as they could. For the first time in that tunnel, the humans had the advantage. Their numbers had surged to more than double the orcs still standing.

Of course, they were on a timer. A whole horde was still behind them.

Relief flickered across some of the hunters’ faces when they saw no children, women, or elderly among the dead.

But Brahm’s face tightened with guilt the moment his eyes landed on Teclos and the sorry state he was in.

Talmir ran beside his son.

"Stay with me," he said, voice rough, a potion already in hand. His eyes swept over Teclos in panic, searching for any fresh wound he might have suffered during the clash.

Teclos tried to answer, but only a broken sound escaped his throat.

Talmir cursed, bit the cork free, spat it aside, and slid one arm beneath Teclos’s head.

"Drink."

The liquid hit Teclos’s tongue, bitter and sharp.

Fire rushed through every blackened vein.

His back arched weakly as pain flared so brightly that his vision blurred again. Then, slowly, some of the veins faded, sinking into a less visible state beneath his skin.

When he breathed in again, air entered his lungs without feeling like broken glass.

Teclos dragged it in greedily, trembling as he finally managed to breathe without feeling as if he were being torn apart.

Talmir pressed a hand against his cheek, relief flickering across his face.

"Good. That’s it."

Pella’s voice cut through the battle. "Evacuate the injured," he said, forcing Ba’hraka’s weapon aside. "Now."

Ulmak shouted, reaffirming his orders. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

"You heard him!" he roared. "Wounded first! Keep the line open!"

For a few precious moments, the retreat almost became orderly.

A few hunters lifted the injured and dragged them back, while the elites massacred the rest of the orcs.

And in the middle of it all, Pella held Ba’hraka at bay.

Of course, Ba’hraka could not let the humans escape so easily.

His attacks came heavier now, each strike meant not only to kill Pella, but to break the tunnel around him. Stone slabs dropped from the ceiling. Spikes burst from blind angles. The floor rose and twisted beneath their feet, trying to trap him and the other hunters before crushing them against the walls.

Pella blocked most of the rampage.

He was pierced through the thigh and kept swinging. His ribs shattered and healed before he took his next step. A stone spike tore through his palm; he closed that hand around it, crushed it, and drove his axe into Ba’hraka’s chest hard enough to send the orc skidding back several paces.

Ba’hraka laughed.

Just a deep, savage sound that made the hunters’ skin crawl.

Then the tunnel filled with another sound.

Footsteps.

The remaining orc horde emerged from the darkness, weapons raised, tusks bared, eyes burning.

The first wave crashed into the human line.

Order broke almost immediately.

The human elites tried to break the charge with some success, but it was not enough. The battle shifted again, and the humans were forced onto the back foot once more.

And worse still—

One massive orc stepped forward from the backline, his arms scarred with burn marks that spread across his skin in a lightning-like pattern. Two battle axes were strapped to his back, and a wicked grin was plastered across his face.

U’rtak.

Then another massive orc emerged beside him, wearing the same armor and carrying the same dominating aura. A greatsword was strapped to his back. His nose was still caved in from his earlier fight with Pella, and dried blood ran down his face, but it did not seem to hinder him much.

Gor’kes.

Darnel, Sera, and Kosak moved to intercept U’rtak, while Brahm, Talmir, and Ulmak threw themselves in front of Gor’ke.

U’rtak released a brutal heat wave, intending to melt the bones of the puny humans daring to block his path. Darnel reacted immediately, coating the three of them in water while spreading an icy mist around their bodies to dull the worst of the heat.

Kosak attacked from below and above, opening pitfalls beneath U’rtak’s feet, driving spikes toward him, and dropping chunks of the ceiling whenever he had the chance. Sera followed with fireballs, hurling them one after another to force him back.

But U’rtak fended them off with ease.

Raw force alone pushed the hunters back, and even through Darnel’s misty protection, the heat still burned their skin.

Gor’ke was no easier to contain.

Lightning cracked through the tunnel as he advanced, his greatsword tearing through every attempt to stop him. More than once, a bolt came close to killing Talmir, Brahm, or Ulmak outright.

They held the two monsters back.

Barely.

The humans were one mistake away from being wiped out.

Pella noticed and tried to release a healing wave over his allies. Green mana washed through the tunnel, mending wounds and giving the hunters a much-needed second wind.

But that moment of distraction cost him dearly.

Ba’hraka made him pay for it.

The orc slammed his spear into the ground, and the floor beneath Pella erupted. Stone wrapped around his legs up to the knees, locking him in place. Pella tore one foot free, but Ba’hraka was already there.

Before Pella could fully break loose, the shaft of Ba’hraka’s spear snapped upward and smashed into his jaw like an uppercut, lifting him off the ground.

And in the same motion, Ba’hraka spun, driving a heel kick into Pella’s abdomen that sent him flying back.

Pella was blasted backward, flying past the struggling hunters, past Talmir, past Teclos, deeper into the tunnel. He struck the ground, bounced once, and slammed into a broken wall of stone hard enough to crack it further.

His axe skidded across the floor beside him.

Green mana flickered out, and he was knocked unconscious.

Ba’hraka then turned toward the humans.

The orc lifted one hand, and the tunnel groaned.

Teclos felt it before he understood it.

The entire passage shifted all at once. The floor trembled beneath him. Cracks raced across the ceiling in jagged lines, connecting old fractures to new ones. Every wound Ba’hraka had carved into the stone during the fight began to widen.

Talmir’s face went white from shock.

"He’s closing the tunnel..."

The hunters couldn’t disengage from the orcs without leaving their backs wide open to attack.

Talmir looked at Teclos.

That single look told Teclos everything.

’No.’

Panic started to seep into his mind.

’No, don’t.’

Talmir’s expression broke for a heartbeat, a smile flashing across his face. Then he turned toward Toby, Tom, and Zarik, who were dragging Pella back from where he had landed to safety.

Violent wind suddenly gathered around Talmir.

"Dad..." Teclos rasped.

His father did not answer.

He released a massive tornado toward the back, saving some of the hunters as well as Darnel, Brahm, and Teclos by pushing them beyond the collapsing section.

Pain exploded through his body as he was launched across the collapsing passage, but the current held him, wrapping around his body gently and with care.

For one impossible second, Teclos saw everything.

Darnel and Brahm on the safer side of the collapse, picking themselves back up with shocked expressions.

U’rtak laughing among the dust and releasing waves of fire.

Gor’kes cutting down a hunter who tried to run.

Sera trapped on the wrong side, blood across her face, slicing an orc in half with her flaming sword.

Kosak beside her, encasing himself in a rock golem.

And Talmir standing beyond the falling wall of rock and debris.

On the orcs’ side.

Toby caught Teclos before he struck the ground.

The impact drove a grunt from his chest, but his arms closed firmly around him, saving him from any more injuries.

Teclos tried to twist around.

Tried to reach back.

Tried to scream in desperation.

Through the narrowing gap, he saw Talmir one last time.

His father stood there smiling, Sera and Kosak nearby with more than half of the remaining hunters trapped with them as orcs closed in from all sides.

Dust swirled around the tunnel.

But his eyes stayed on Teclos.

Just enough to send him a final message.

Live.

Then the walls collapsed completely and slammed shut.

For Teclos, every other sound vanished in that instant.

Toby tightened his grip around him and staggered toward the only path still open. Around them, the surviving hunters ran. Some carried the wounded. Some limped.

Behind the wall, the battle continued in muffled fragments.

Steel.

Roars.

Screams.

Explosions.

Teclos could only stare over Toby’s shoulder as he was dragged away, his eyes fixed on the wall of stone now separating him from Talmir.