It was pure pandemonium the moment the shield opened. Bears and wolves stormed in, crashing into whichever guards were defending the spot. 

Around ten bears began a systematic killing of archers and mages they found in their immediate vicinity.

Seeing the breach, the mages no longer held back. They lacked the luxury of avoiding friendly fire. It was better to save themselves than to worry about the meat shields. Another campaign of indiscriminate destruction began. Both friend and foe were reduced by high-level spells. The healing mages began to cast as many spells as they could muster without care for mana issues. Such spells included magic armor, spells that slowed enemies and the most potent attack spells their sects were capable of. 

A few bears died, but the time it took to kill them had only allowed more bears to enter the shield.

In the battle, only knights of the first-star level could fight the bears alone. Those of the second had to fight in groups of three. Anyone below that was basically relegated to the task of meat shield.

The nobles quickly retreated to the back. Hiding near the magic cannon.

Dante stood rooted in place. His entire life flashed before his eyes. He was saddened by how much happiness he lost worrying about Boris. The later part of his life was stained with spite and self-pity. He thought of his wife and their young daughter. Oh, if only I could have sired a son before dying. It appears my line ends with me. My apologies, forefathers. I was too focused on a petty rivalry rather than my beloved wife. He dazed as troops rushed forward to protect their respective lord, murmuring, “This is the end. We are all gonna die…”

A voice ruptured him out of said daze. It was deep and proud, “AH! TO DIE IN BATTLE!”

An indescribable emotion rose in Dante. Perhaps it was the joy of knowing who this voice belonged to that his neck quickly turned away from the battlefield. Beside him was a tall pale-skinned man clad in bronze armor. Dante sobbed, “Eros…”

The Spartan patted Dante’s shoulder, “Aye.” Looking longingly at the death in front of him. Eros passionately proclaimed, “The battle she calls. Her voice is so sweet that I am unable to wait. Let us save pleasantries for another time.” Not waiting for a response, Eros leaped into the slaughtering field. Alone he battled bears with his bare hands.

Eros’s arrival was like an injection of morale as the disorganized knights formed behind him and attempted to launch a counter-attack. 

A majority of the bears had become locked in battle. The wolves, until this point, had been relatively passive. Even allowing some of the knights to rescue those injured right outside of the magic shield.

A few runic knights dragged the injured Clarence back into the now failing shield.

Clarence grabbed onto one pulling himself to his feet. His orders fell without hesitation, “Everyone, prepare to retreat. Only those who are second-star and above are allowed to stay.”

Hearing Clarence say this, the lower-ranked Knights felt like their honor was being insulted, so they immediately wanted to refuse. Their faces were dirtied, their armor in tatters, their bodies near collapse. None among them could say they fought well or were anything more than meatshields. Many believed they would never leave this place alive. Still. Still, they wanted to stay. They wanted to battle with those who have shed blood in this god-forsaken forest. Droves of soldiers had fallen, were they supposed to say 'Oh thank you for giving your life, now allow me to run away with mine.' Pah none among them could do that.

Clarence could see and very much understand their emotions. You cheeky bastards, acting so cool right at the end. I'm the one who should be doing this act. 

Clarence pushed himself away from the runic knights. Though his aura had subsided one could feel a pressure emanating from his soul. Using his spear as a cane, he hobbled towards his men. “Idiots. If we all die here, no one will return to their families. I say to you. You who have children and lovers. You who only a short time ago felt the warmth of their mother. You who have only recently left their nest. You who knows nothing of the world. Leave!!! Go home, and protect your lords. The rest of us will hold here.” 

Clarence forced a smile as blood leaked from numerous wounds, “Besides, we expect you to return with reinforcements, so don’t make us wait long.” His thoughts continued the morale-boosting sentence though the thought would drop morale if heard. If you wait too long the lich will have already finished desecrating our dead bodies.

The first-star veterans berated the other men for their insubordination with smiles on their soot-covered faces. Yelling profanities and threatening to make the knights run until they died when they returned if they did not leave now. If one saw this scene with no other information they would never assume these smiling men were all prepared for death, nor that death seemed all but assured. 

But those forced to retreat knew that these smiling men would likely never be seen again so they wanted to stay. If only for a moment longer, just a moment longer to remember their faces.

"You young lads should get going. What's with this somber mood. Didn't anyone ever tell ya? As a soldier, you either come back with your shield or on it." 

No one knew who said it but those simple words stated as if telling a joke were etched into their hearts. With tears in their eyes, the younger men retreated with the viscounts, who were more than ready to leave. They moved swiftly from the area. Upon leaving the forest they noticed the eerie barrier was gone as smoke from the destroyed cave flowed towards the heavens. The sound of battle could still be heard, but the soldiers covered their ears and marched away. 

Misha, the leader of the shadow bears, let loose a long crazed howl as it stood over the now unconscious Erik. Some of Erik's men tried to reach him, but one swing from Misha chopped a man into three pieces. Misha enjoyed the feeling of his claws ripping open the weak meat bags, so he toyed with them, slowly killing one at a time.

Alarick and the wolves seeing the arrival of Eros, gathered up and focused on the weakened and now retreating army. 

Eros alone battled through three shadow bears, punching them until their skulls caved in and shoving his thumbs deep into their eyes.

His crazed aura only grew the longer he battled, making one wonder who was the crazier of the two. Eros or Misha.

Seeing Eros kill his brethren with such brutality, Misha abandoned his playthings. Lowering on all fours, he charged towards Eros.

Eros kicked a bear in the head, cracking its neck so that a bone protruded beneath the skin. He turned and, with gleaming eyes, raised a single arm towards the charging Misha.

Insolence. That was the one word Misha’s crazed mind could form from Ero's act. Which caused Misha to sink into a further frenzy. Bulldozing any unlucky fool that got into its way. Misha gained more and more speed as an illusory aura wrapped around him. Then the two collided.

There was no boom. There was no sound at all. There was only Misha being brought to a stop by a singular hand. Before Misha could swipe its giant paw. A palm shot forward, exploding its head like a watermelon. Eros smiled as a mixture of blood and brain matter coated his face. All battling stopped at this moment. 

Everyone. Monster, human, and lich turned towards Eros, who had just killed Misha with one arm and one attack. 

“A Spartan. A Spartan. That is the power of a Spartan,” many of the remaining soldiers gawked at such unbelievable strength and power. What was even crazier was that the attack had no magic, no fighting aura, nothing but brute force. 

Thomas seeing the spectacle, understood that this monster was a monster above monsters. There was no hope of defeating him. A spartan? The stories do not do them justice. Haaah I miss my quiet cave. Let's wrap this up. “Hey mutt, begin your retreat. You are the property of the boy. I cannot allow you to die.”

Alarik didn’t question Thomas’s order as he and the shadow bears had never been allies. Misha's death was unfortunate, but even more unfortunate would be his pack's fate if they stayed. He signaled to all the wolves to break off their attacks. 

Seeing the wolves leave, the remaining soldiers cheered. 

The bears noticed the wolves retreat. But that meant nothing. They had no anger or ill will. With their leader killed, there was only one thing on their minds. Revenge. The remaining bears decided to charge the enemies' lines. Some of the bears looked pleadingly at Alarik.

Alarik could only nod his head in understanding. Speaking to Marrok and Reika, he ordered, “You two lead a small group to rescue the shadow cubs.”

Reika assented, taking a small group of wolves to secure the cubs.

Marrok hesitated, “What about you, Alarik?”

Alarick stared at the blood-covered Eros, “I will hold him back until everyone has retreated, so you best get going.”

Marrok knew better than to question Alarick a second time, so begrudgingly, he led the pack away from the battle. 

The bears fought with a new ferocity that surprised the knights who believed their morale would plummet after their leader's death. Each bear alone battled to take one, only one at the minimum enemy with them. Some had spears sticking out of them like a porcupine, but their bodies continued moving.

After retrieving Erik, a few of his men slowed down the now invigorated bears laying their lives down so that their lord may live. 

The mages, having run out of mana, began to retreat towards the low-ranking knights. The alchemists dragged away the magic cannon, under orders from Dante.

Clarence and his runic knights remained in the shield.

Eros closed and opened his fist a few times as if mesmerized. “He was a worthy foe. I thank Kratos for this battle. May the rest of you be given honorable deaths as well.”

Without the wolves’ support, the shadow bears were overwhelmed. The monster Eros went about killing any bear that appeared even relatively strong. All that remained were a few straggler bears and Alarick, who blocked the route that led deeper into the forest. 

The human army was no better off than their enemies. All the archers were dead, the mages were either retreating or useless as none could cast any more spells. Most of the soldiers were killed or leading the viscounts away from the forest. Clarence was unable to battle. His wyvern blood had subsided due to exhaustion. The runic knights continued to prop their commander up. There was only one threat. 

Eros smiled. His eyes moved about crazily, trying to find a worthy opponent until they landed on Alarick. He roared in happiness, “You. I smell something on you. It is the blood of the strong. The blood of a leader. The blood of the worthy. Will you battle me or retreat?”

Alarick’s reply was a long howl as more and more dark energy swirled towards him for absorption, causing his size to triple. The energy intertwined with his fur, creating a thick dark armor around everywhere but his eyes. His eyes sharpened with determination and resolve, slowly turning a dark purple with black veins pulsating within them.

Eros smiled. Reaching behind his head, he pulled out an 8-foot long dory spear that had a red tip. In his other hand was a small shield. Banging on his shield as if offering Alarick the first move Eros stood upright.

Alarik’s legs dug into the ground, causing indents then catapulted him towards Eros.

The spectators shook their heads in ridicule, believing he would meet a similar fate to the large bear.

Eros struck out twice with his spear, but he moved so fast that only Clarence could barely comprehend the attack.

The first strike passed through the head of Alarick, eliciting cheers from the men. But to their surprise, no blood spurted out after the strike. Instead, blood spurted from the opposite direction. 

Alarick used a clone made of darkness to close the distance, narrowly evaded Eros's second strike, and clawed at him. Hitting the bronze armor, a loud popping noise sounded as sparks flew from the contact.

Eros twirled around to face Alarick, bringing down his shield.

Alarick tried to hop back, but the shield slammed into him, giving him a very intimate introduction to the ground.

While Alarick was on the ground, Eros stabbed down with his spear at full force.

Alarik could feel the attack coming. He gathered his strength, forcing the shield up before flashing away just as the spear slammed into the ground creating a deep hole.

Eros dashed to where Alarick flashed once again, bringing down his shield.

Alarik was ready this time. Instead of dodging, Alarik pounced forward, bringing down a paw with all his strength. The strike connected, slamming into the bronze helmet of Eros, creating a deep indent. 

Unfortunately, Eros was perfectly fine. Left vulnerable after attacking, Alarik felt a spear jabbing through his gut.

Clarence watched the battle in disbelief. A being whom he lost against was being handled with ease. He wanted to call the situation unfair, but only thanks to this incredible discrepancy in strength would they be able to win. 

Eros stood over the downed Alarick, raising his spear to deliver the final blow. Time seemed to slow down as their two eyes met.

Alarik faced Eros and death with resolve. No trace of fear could be found in his eyes, only a determination to die fighting.

Eros struck down with such speed that a mini-explosion could be heard just from his muscles flexing. A mass of killing intent flowed with this strike. A hallucinatory scene of blood and gore revolved around the descending spear.

Alarick continued to stare. Even if he was too weak to win, he would die staring his foe in the face. All he has done and all he will ever do is protect the pack, including its pride.

The spear slammed into the ground. The tip slid into the cold hard ground as if it were moving through loose sand. 

Everyone believed the wolf died in this attack. Dust covered the two, but as it settled, everyone saw a smiling Eros.

Eros laughed long and hard, which was offset by the blood dried upon his pale figure, making him appear demonic. 

Finally, the dust completely settled. Everyone could see that Alarick was still alive, the spear not even inches away from his head.

Eros leaned against the implanted spear. “Say, how would you like to become my pet?”

Alarick stared at him in confusion, but regardless of the matter, he declined, “I already have a master.”

“Oh, where is he? I know it could not be that flying creature up there. His heart is impure. I can smell it from here.” Eros relaxed as if he were having some small talk over dinner.

Alarick laughed, “Indeed. He has an impure heart, and for generations, sought to oppress and control my pack. He is not my master. My master is far stronger than him. My master is the man who saved not only my life but my pack’s.”

Eros stopped leaning on the spear as his eyes began to glow, “More powerful than the flying one. Where is he? Where? I must fight him. Then I will claim you as my pet.”

“Impossible,” Alarick spat this reply with zero hesitation even though Eros could easily kill him.

“Oh is he that strong?” Eros was very interested in this mysterious master. His heart had begun beating in expectation, telling him a worthy opponent was drawing near.

“I do not know his full strength, but he is a million times stronger than me. I know he is pure of heart and has a warrior’s spirit” Alarik’s eyes confirmed his statement. Eros could tell when one was lying and what Alarick had said was true.

Eros became giddy, “Oh, Kratos. Is one such as me worthy of your blessings? I shall let you live proud beast and make you mine after defeating your master. As for the flying monster, I can only offer him an honorable death.”

Hearing this, Thomas showed a face of anger, but inside he had already done the math. If that freak of nature got a hold of him, he would die 11 out of 10 times. He could only muster 60% of his power in his current state without burning through his life force. “And so I must retreat.” Thomas slowly flew into the sky, planning his escape. Until he felt the eyes of a beast locking onto him.

Looking down, he met the battle-crazed eyes of Eros. Those eyes told Thomas there would be no escaping, not without taking care of him first. 

A defeated smile set upon Thomas’s face as he accepted the current reality. Between sorrow and pride, he cackled, “If I shall die, mortal. I shall die the death of a god. Come test your mettle, see if you are the one who bests the Dark God Thomas.”

Popping his neck, Eros readied to pounce on the weakened Thomas as if the distance between them was nothing but a jump away.

Thomas lamented, “I shouldn't have killed the pope. I should have killed the boy from the moment we first met. I should have kept my mouth shut in that tavern. I should have killed that old pervert the moment he entered the cave. I should have stopped that battle when it got out of hand. I should have told the truth from the start. This is why being mortal is no good. So much regret even though this is my second time dying.”

A lone voice broke the growing tension, “Should have, could have, but you didn’t. Don’t worry, Thomas. I too regret some of my decisions. All we can do now is push forward and try to avoid creating more regret. For instance, Leonard was worried about you.” A figure approached from the distance in front of everyone. Clarence, Alarick, and Thomas instantly recognized the voice.