Werthine looked out onto the battlefield grimly. He hated this; however, his hands were tied. He grimaced as he watched the two sides clash. He gripped the armrests on his chair, causing it to creak and groan as he applied pressure to relieve his stress over the situation.

He winced as he saw a group of mercenaries overwhelmed by a swarm of feral goblins. The goblins, with their armor and surprising speed, overtook the group. He could not bring himself from looking away as they were stabbed repeatedly, blood spraying everywhere as they cried out for aid.

Werthine shifted his gaze away from that group. He knew what was going to happen next. Moments later, the goblins broke their orderly decorum to feast upon the bloody mess left of their victims.

The scattered screams and moans of pain inflicted terror in those nearby. Finally, a mage threw a fireball into the mass of goblins feasting on the corpses in an act of mercy.

Werthine wrinkled his nose at this as he could do nothing but watch. Then, his gaze turned to the students. He noted that a few were injured, but they survived the charge, which gave Werthine some comfort about how the students fared. 

He turned his eyes to Tarphus and smiled as the boy repealed wave after wave of the armored combatants. This made him proud of his friend's son. Werthine chuckled as he looked down at his adoptive nephew's troops.

They were cautious and laid down even fire, sparing as many shots as possible to continue the fight later. Werthine smiled happily as he saw this Tarphus could keep calm and destroy the disgusting creatures without issue.

However, this faded with time. Werthine could only spare brief glances to the hill as the battle became even more ferocious. Giant orcs clad in similar armor came barreling into the mercenary lines, unlike the goblins; they did this with a barbaric ferocity that bewildered Werthine.

Three orcs crashed into a small group of mercenaries, turning anyone near them into a cloud of pink mist. Although Werthine suppressed his instinct to go down there and aid his fellow mercenaries, he gritted his teeth as he growled.

He heard the rattling of chains and felt something squeeze around his throat; a haunting whisper formed in his ear. "Your oath still stands 'wardin'." He stilled and calmed himself over this as he did not want to bring that creature into the battle.

So all he could do was sit in his chair and watch the slaughter while having his people carry potions to the wounded and retrieve the injured. It was bloody and cruel work for him; he will admit to shedding tears. However, it was maddening for him as he was forced to sit by and watch.

He spared a glance at the hill and winced as he saw how the bastards' arrows shredded the trench line. Werthine felt such anger and hatred as he noted that his nephew had a few arrows in him, as he fired into the enemy to make the goblins wary. 

Werthine looked away from the trenches as another volley hit. He needed to focus on the battle before him to free up some clerics for his nephew. But then, all the boy has to do is hold on. Werthine was surprised that he did not run. Instead, he held his ground.

This brought both joy and fear to him as the boy would no doubt be attacked again by what he did not know, but it was a certainty. Werthine looked at his assistant, who glared back, "We sent a cleric as instructed. It is not our fault that they thought that they could win this without him."

This caused Werthine to narrow his eyes, but the assistant would not budge the forced smile plastered on her face as he continued before Werthine could respond. "All of our clerics are so busy dealing with the injuries of our mercenaries that we simply cannot afford to send one to the…" the assistant wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Boy."

Werthine wished he could just order for the boy to get a few clerics for backup. However, her father would throw a tantrum if he heard that Werthine had helped the boy. He could not afford to insult another king, but he had his ways of keeping the boys safe.

Werthine shifted as he spared a second glance toward the boy's position and sighed. He knew something was happening here; he just did not know what. He would find out, both matters as it seems his guild needed a little purge.

…

Tarphus felt something… wrong approach him, how he felt this or even why escaped him, but all he could say was that he felt on edge. The Tech-Priest looked around then looked down into the bloody field. It pointed and spoke. "Look, Squad Captain."

Tarphus followed his ally's direction and felt his skin crawl as he witnessed the blood on the field move. It was slow, but he saw it. The blood moved slowly yet surely down the hill and out of the ground. 

It bubbled and broiled as it seeped up out of the ground, slowly moving faster down the hill toward the forest. Tarphus felt that something was there, something powerful. He yelled out at his troops. "check your equipment! The enemy approa-"

He was tugged by the tech-priest as a bolt of blood flew through where he once was. He heard a small explosion from behind him. Tarphus looked to the smoking crater that the bolt had created as cold sweat formed on his back.

He knew that if the bolt had hit, he would be dead, full stop. There was no coming back from that, he was sure. Tarphus ducked behind the trench as he heard the heavy autogun open up fire. He peeked up to see a massive figure step out of the woods. Around it swirled the blackish blood.

Tarphus opened fire at it as the weapons team chuckled. Yes, they laughed as they emptied everything into the creature that was approaching. Tarphus heard the others open fire as well. However, the swirling mass of blood pooled before the creature as a shield against the hail of bullets.

Though the bullets appeared to do nothing to the creature as it advanced up the hill, Tarphus noted that the creature's shield was weakening. He could see it as the bullets sheared off clumps of the blood shield, causing steam to erupt from the sheared-off segments.

He was curious why the creature could not retain the blood from the shield until the heavy autogun reloaded and opened fire again. 

Tarphus then saw a segment of blood pool to the creature's side, exposing its hands to Tarphus. It pointed at the weapons team, Tarphus yelled, but the brave fools kept firing into the beast.

The bolt hit their position in a blink, and there was silence from the trench. The soldiers did not know what to do. This was the first time that they had lost anyone. Tarphus trembled as he looked down into the heavy weapon emplacement with horror as he saw what was there.

They all heard the low moans of pain and grunts of anger. Tarphus saw how one was slain outright. Tarphus believed him to be the lucky one as another desperately clawed his organs back into his stomach. The last screamed out in pain as he had lost both of his legs.

Tarphus could not process what had happened; he lost his troops, the men and women that believed in him. Although unlike in the challenge, he could not simply just "respawn" and attain his troops, he felt helpless all over again.

It was then that they heard it, a guttural chuckle, and they all heard the low booming voice that accompanied the creature. "Simply pathetic, like bugs meant to be squashed." This enraged the legless soldier as he defiantly cried, "Fuck you, Xenos scum!"

He lurched forward toward the heavy autogun and single-handedly fired the heavy weapon into the creature with all the hatred and fury that he could muster. This amused the beast as it strode ever closer to the trench.

Tarphus snapped out of his fear for the moment as he raised his own weapon and shouted, "Fire you dogs!" They all fired, sparing no expense, and gave it their all, as Tarphus slowly made his way to the heavy weapons team with Guiles the Tech-Priest, Gudo, Lucy, and Gus as his entourage in tow, all the while firing into the creature.

Tarphus entered the small emplacement as he changed to his auto pistol due to his auto gun running out of ammo. He looked at the nearly dead gunner. He pointed at him and spoke, "Get him and the rest of the troops to the second line. Now." Tarphus stared the medic down, daring him to disobey his order.

The medic grabbed two stretchers and handed Gus one. Gudo grabbed the other end as Lucy helped Guile with his. None of them spoke as the others in the trench kept firing at the creature leisurely walking towards them. It slowly reached the halfway point with that smug expression peeking out behind the shield of blood.

It taunted the Guardsmen with its slow stroll towards the line, and it gleefully laughed as it saw the guardsmen tactically withdraw to the second line. The creature was annoyed because a robed figure and a mere guard still handled the heavy gun.

Tarphus loaded the heavy auto gun, the Tech-Priest started to chant in a whisper next to him as he unloaded into the creature. He then spoke to the silent-robed figure, "Please retreat to the second trench, my friend; the troops will need your skills."

Tarphus then heard the whisper, "Request acknowledged and ignored." As the tech-priest then fired at the creature with its own auto gun. The beast then stepped on an unexploded landmine. This vaporized the rest of the blood swirling around it.

Tarphus continued firing until he ran out of ammunition for all of his guns. Though the shield of blood was destroyed, the creature's armor was more formidable than he thought. 

The bullets would ping off the armor futility. However, Typhus shot the beast in its eye due to its arrogance.

The armor was large and imposing; it would have intimidated Tarphus if he had not fought a warboss, then he might have felt fearful of the creature. 

Instead, he only felt rage towards it as he remembered the dead and dying that this Xenos caused. However, his hand still trembled slightly as he still felt an instinctual fear.

This enraged the creature, and it ran towards the two with a roar of fury. Tarphus felt his blood boil as he drew his combat knife and grenade. "It has been a pleasure, Tech-Priest." Tarphus looked directly at the oncoming creature, firming his resolve against such a threat.

Tarphus remembered that bored expression on the Orc's face. Rage filled him as he felt the utter hatred that his life could mean so little that it would be considered boring to take it.

He felt a hand on his shoulder instead of one of those cables as it spoke to him, "The pleasure was mine… Tarphus." He grinned at the Tech-Priest, then he turned his gaze to the oncoming creature.

It drew a mace and laughed at the two defenders in front of it. The deep booming voice growled in frustration. "You worms do not deserve to die by my mace. However, I have made you an exception for your deaths will be slow a-"

Tarphus grinned as the smell of holy promethium graced his nostrils. The flamer singed the Orc, bathing it in flames. This caused the Orc to roar in utter anger as it swung its mace at the tech priest. 

Tarphus lept out of the trench, flanking left while the tech-priest went right; Tarphus gripped his combat knife with grim determination, his fist clenching around the grenade. The Orc went after the Tech-Priest due to flames it spewed at the Orc.

The Orc swung several times at the tech priest and missed as the fire would force it to swing wildly. Tarphus took advantage of this and closed into melee with his combat knife. He was able to stab into the neck of the Orc.

This earned him a grunt and pain as the Orc quickly grabbed his arm by the wrist, tugging swiftly to destroy the enemy with all of its might. A ripping sound resounded through the field, and Tarphus could only watch as the Orc tore his arm from its socket.

He screamed in pain, with tears threatening to pour out of his eyes. This distracted not only him but also the Tech-Priest. This is what the Orc was counting on. It was only a single second that the Priest hesitated. Then, the Orc was able to use to strike at the Priest.

The audible snapping of bones echoed out as the Orc hit the Tech Priest's leg, causing the Tech-Priest to fall. This stopped the flames from coating the creature allowing it to see the two defenders, one kneeling with one hand on the ground with a small object clenched in its paw. The other was weakly crawling towards the first, whispering things that the Orc could not hear.

The Orc ignored the kneeling creature and turned to the one fumbling on the ground; it raised its foot and crunched through where the pelvis would be. This caused both blood and oil to spray into the air, coating those nearby. This caused the creature pure joy as he heard the anguished cry behind it.

The Orc chuckled with pure joy as it stood over these weaklings, then it felt pain from behind, the peons that fled started firing their strange bolts at him. He picked up the tiny armless human by its neck and used him as a shield. 

The battle roars from down the hill rose to its ears. Causing the creature to growl with pleasure as its troops overwhelmed the defenders below with their numbers and discipline. The human squirmed in its hand, causing it some glee. Humans were simply too humorous to him, especially when they break.

The Orc laughed in Tarphus's face, its mouth wide open, looking out to the field below. Tarphus used this moment before he would lose consciousness from the lack of air. Tarphus had never felt such hatred before, but an almost supernatural calmness swept over him.

Tarphus then took a grenade out from his waist. His hand trembled as his life flashed before him. Tarphus then annihilated his hesitation with that dark viscus rage that aided him before.

The pin was pulled with his teeth, and the creature looked at it with hunger as Tarphus did not spit the pinout. This action made the animal believe that the grenade was a sort of healing food.

Tarphus looked on in shock as the Orc grabbed the grenade and popped it into its mouth, causing it to explode right before it could bite it. Tarphus was thrown back by the explosion. Upon landing, he looked over to the Tech-Priest, who awkwardly gave a thumbs up. Unfortunately, this allowed Tarphus to fall unconscious.

…

When the fighting first started, Christapher's wind spirit made sure to hide away from the battle so that it could observe the strange humans that its lord assigned it to. Since he was busy, he could not witness everything from its eyes. However, its core would store the information for later.

It saw Professor Writhe looking down on display with mild disinterest draped across his face. However, he did nothing to or against the humans fighting the enemy. The goblins shoved forward as quickly as possible.

What the wind spirit bore witness to was horrifying to it, however strangely alluring as it saw a handful of humans stave off wave after wave of those goblins then further take care of their wounded efficiently and effectively as possible.

There were times when it thought that the humans would fail, but they would just blast away the enemy. They were beings that it could respect, then the Orc came. It knew that they would have a problem and tried to warn the nearby professor, Writhe.

However, the professor merely waved it off while holding a small silver cage in his hand, a spirit catcher. One that was already full by its look, as it contained a swirling mass of black shadows, which looked as though it was trying desperately to leave said cage.

This caused the spirit to look on in horror as Writhe smiled cruelly at the field. "Don't worry so much. I will save those who retreat, so there is nothing to worry about." The voice was cold and vicious though it could do nothing as it lacked any attacking skills.

It felt fear for the first time as it watched the humans deal with the Orc and came to realize that they were… weak, surprisingly so. Though it knew that it would have fled in the same situation, it wanted them to escape and save themselves, but they did not.

It was brutal to watch as the Orc tore through their leader and ally, and it thought that the humans were doomed. As the Humans leader was getting hit and brutalized, the shadow in the cage stirred no surged with rage, almost cracking the cage.

This caused Writhe to smile predatorily and lick his lips as he reinforced the spirit cage, whispering, "Not now, that would be no fun to… interrupt the playtime of those two. It would be such a shame. I will make sure that the boy gets saved… if he wins." 

Right after saying this, the boy got his arm ripped off, and the Tech-Priest was crushed. He leaned in, anxious to see the dramatic reveal over the entire event. 

But after it started gloating, Writhe's face became grim, the pleasure that he had was gone, and after the grenade went off, he uttered a single statement. "Well. Fuck."

…

The Dryad felt fear as it looked at the giant before it. But, as an Oread, it was a mighty opponent. Oreads formed after a sacred ritual where a druid of the seventh cycle would bond with a willing dryad.

These creatures would become far more potent than the two would ever be alone, but this mystified the Dryad. Lady Cullivan's magic aura perforated this area, it was her, and the Dryad knew it. She was known to be a mighty druid, but where would she get her hands on a dryad, which could also handle her power?

She needed a willing one as the ritual would fail without the consent of both parties, and Lady Cullivan would never force such a thing. She had helped with settling the magical creatures; she and her benefactors allowed the supernatural beings rights after all.

Dryads from the Enchanted Orchards would have killed to aid her, then who did she bond to, as the Dryad knew of every other Dryad in this kingdom due to the sacred grove they were connected to, the only ones that weren't were…

The elves, the wood elves or the high elves, though she was leaning towards the high elves as the wood elves viewed druids as akin to priests and so should be untouchable due to their honor code since all wood elves are bound to this, she could not suspect them as much as the high elves.

She walked up to the Oread and saw worms wriggling and writhing under the surface of the creature. They were slowly making their way up to the brain. This caused her to curse, "Magi Eaters." These abominations would eat both the flesh and magic of the opponents. As such, they were feared by magical beasts, for they also reproduce asexually. 

As long as they were fed, then they would reproduce. The worms were found in the floating city of Astopilee. That city was being fought over by the High Elves of Teezaleck and the Federation.

She knows how to cure it, but it will be a long and dangerous process. She just hopes that she is in time to save them. She remembers the time she and her kin were saved by Lady Cullivan's efforts so she would labor to return the favor.

…

Lord Cullivan looked out of his window as a storm drew near with unnatural swiftness. He felt pain running along his spine as he sat down. Sweat from his workout was dripping down onto the floor as he looked at the paperwork on his desk.

He frowned as he noted that while his northern trade routes were now clear, the southern trade route was plagued by bandits, ones that were far more bloodthirsty than his guards had seen before.

Goblins were more numerous and arrived with more… perverse intentions than before, the fires stopped, but that caused him to feel even more anxious. His citizens needed him, but he did not know what to do.

With a solemn expression, he looked at what Duchess Cassava sent him, an invitation to a ball, one that he knew was a pretext to force him to show his strength. She was a very loyal person, and he had earned her respect through his own show of loyalty, though she was nearby and was trying to deal with the bandit problem in her provinces.

Naturally, the two were trying to help one another, hence the ball to secure funding by the other nobility. However, this would open up the chance for the other nobles to try and steal Cullivan's territory, which made him smile.

It was laughable to him; he had routed armies, weathered storms, and slain giants. Who were they to lambast him? It was almost saddening how they hungered over his land, the land of his friends, where they came together as mercenaries, where the troops that followed him hailed.

He knew everyone in his town. He remembered the people that fought for him, their friends, and their families. Yet, although he knew them all, even their widows, his heart still grows cold as he remembers those he had to bury and their families that would grieve. 

He did not mind the angry ones; he could relate to them and would accept their fury, but the silent ones made him so… He shook his head; this thinking would not stop the political machinations behind the masks of the masks nobility.

This was his home, and he would rather die than allow some upstart, busy body to take it from him. So he will enter the game and forcefully make his home unattainable for those noble cowards. 

However, he felt anxious as none of the letters he sent to the king had returned, the man he had looked up to and aided so many times. He felt that something was wrong in the capital, but going would leave his town open for the nobles to acquire.

This left him one option, he wrote to Werthine again, hoping to help the king. Hopefully, Werthine could also give him an update about his son. However, he felt something off earlier that day, so he might as well check.