The Moon Goddess Festival had already entered its liveliest stage by the time the first Yellowtail warrior crossed into Ashfang Village, as beneath the glow of hundreds of lanterns and the flickering light of the growing bonfire, few people paid any attention to the darkness beyond the village perimeter.

Most of the villagers remained gathered around the central square, awaiting the start of the official ceremony near the large bonfire, while the others were on their way to the centre, as they carried a few last minute supplies.

"Oh boy is this barrel of ale heavy... I swear my back is not what it used to be anymore.

Hahahaha!"

An elderly warrior carrying a barrel of ale joked, as he recounted an exaggerated story from his youth to several nearby villagers, completely unaware that an axe was already hurtling toward him through the evening air, before it suddenly buried itself deep into the side of his neck.

*THUK*

The laughter around him continued for nearly a full second.

Then the man’s head tilted unnaturally.

Blood poured across his chest.

And his body collapsed heavily into the snow.

For a brief moment, nobody understood what they were seeing.

Several villagers stared blankly.

Others simply frowned.

One woman even laughed nervously as though convinced the old hunter had somehow fallen over while drunk.

Then a second Yellowtail warrior emerged from the darkness and drove a spear through the stomach of a nearby man, as the scream that followed silenced the entire square.

*SHRIEK*

*SCREAM*

Panic spread instantly.

People stumbled backward.

Mugs fell from trembling hands.

While warriors reached for their weapons that were no longer around their waists.

"What happened?"

"Who’s attacking us?"

"Where did they come from?"

The questions overlapped one another while more figures continued pouring into the village from the darkness beyond the bonfire’s reach, as warriors wearing Yellowtail furs emerged between huts, around storage sheds, and from narrow pathways connecting different sections of the settlement.

Then somebody finally recognized them.

"YELLOWTAIL!"

The warning tore through the square, and the effect it had on Ashfang warriors was immediate.

Every older villager froze.

Every veteran warrior felt their blood run cold.

And every person who understood the history between the two tribes instantly realized what was happening.

The festival was over.

The raid had begun.

And almost immediately, the atmosphere transformed.

The celebration that had taken all day to build collapsed in seconds as villagers abandoned food, drink, and festival offerings while scrambling to drag family members away from the advancing attackers, with terrified housewives running to find shelter.

Near the bonfire, one of the festival drummers desperately tried to stand while searching for the source of the commotion, however before he could fully rise, an arrow punched through his chest and sent him crashing backward into the snow.

The rhythmic beating that had echoed throughout the village all evening stopped abruptly.

And somehow, the silence that followed felt even more terrifying.

All across Ashfang Village, warriors began rushing toward their homes, storage sheds, and weapon racks, as those who had attended the festival unarmed suddenly found themselves racing against time to recover spears, bows, axes, and hunting blades before the Yellowtail warriors could overwhelm them completely.

However, unfortunately for them, many never reached their destination, because by now, the first wave of Yellowtail fighters had already crashed into the outskirts of the celebration, and wherever they went, blood quickly followed.

"Of all the days these damn bastards could have chosen to attack us, they really chose this holy day to perform such a foul deed?"

The Ashfang warriors cursed, as although an attack from Yellowtail was not unexpected, what they had never expected was for it to arrive in the middle of their most important celebration while half the village remained unarmed and scattered throughout the settlement.

As a result, the first few minutes of the attack unfolded less like a battle and more like a slaughter, as Yellowtail warriors surged through the streets in tightly coordinated groups while isolated Ashfang villagers were cut down before they could properly organize any resistance.

One middle-aged hunter had nearly reached the weapon rack beside his home when a spear pierced through his lower back and erupted from his stomach, as the force of the impact carried him forward several more steps before he finally collapsed face-first into the snow.

Nearby, a younger warrior managed to arm himself with an axe and successfully buried it into the shoulder of a Yellowtail raider, however before he could pull the weapon free, two more attackers crashed into him from the side and dragged him to the ground, where he quickly disappeared beneath a flurry of boots, blades, and screaming.

Everywhere one looked, similar scenes unfolded.

The carefully prepared festival tables were overturned.

Food spilled across the snow.

Lanterns shattered.

While amidst it all, the Yellowtail warriors continued advancing deeper into the village with frightening momentum.

Near the central square, one of Ashfang’s veteran warriors finally managed to rally a small group of defenders around himself, as after retrieving a hunting sword from a nearby storage shed, he charged directly into the attackers while roaring at the top of his lungs.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though he might actually slow their advance.

His blade opened the throat of one Yellowtail warrior.

A second received a deep slash across the chest.

And a third stumbled backward after taking a kick directly to the knee.

However, before the veteran could press his advantage further, a heavy axe suddenly swept in from his blind side.

*CHOP*

The blow landed just above his elbow, as his sword arm separated from his body instantly, while blood sprayed across the snow.

"GYAAAAAA—-"

The warrior screamed while staggering backwards, as he instinctively clutched the ruined stump with his remaining hand while collapsing to one knee.

However, unfortunately for him, the Yellowtail warriors had no intention of granting him a quick death, as instead of beheading him like they should have with his neck exposed, they instead decided to give him an even more brutal death.

"Grab the bastard!"

One of them shouted, as almost immediately, two large warriors seized him beneath the shoulders and lifted him from the ground despite his struggles, as the wounded man kicked, screamed, and cursed while desperately trying to break free.

"No! NO! Let me go!"

He shrieked, however, the Yellowtail warriors only laughed cruelly in response, as before anyone could intervene, they swung him forward together and hurled him directly into the center of the enormous bonfire.

*WOOSH*

The man disappeared into the flames, as for a brief moment, his screams became louder than the fighting itself.

His body thrashed wildly amongst the burning timber while fire rapidly consumed his clothing and fur garments, filling the air with the sickening smell of burning flesh, while several nearby villagers froze in horror.

"Gorak NO!"

The burning man’s brother yelled from a distance, his eyes filled with sorrow, yet the Yellowtail warriors merely watched his pain with a savage satisfaction before resuming their advance.

"Continue advancing! Give them no quarter!"

Yellowtail Chief Sorak yelled, as only now did the first group of organised Ashfang defenders rush to the scene, as men who had hastily put on armor and grabbed a few weapons, arrived behind Chief Torak, to try and save their village from total annihilation.