Chapter 9: The Desperate Stand

Arawn's attempt at the Wind Step began with a stumbling stumble, his lack of familiarity with the complexities of magic visible in the clumsiness of his movements. The air seemed to fight his command, and his slip reflected the steep learning curve that lay ahead of him.

The orc, ever attentive, detected the disturbance in the air. The huge beast recognized Arawn's misstep as a result of his budding comprehension of the magical dance he wished to execute. Its huge limbs glided through the air with disconcerting ease, like the branches of an ancient oak.

Zephyr's instincts kicked in at that pulse of impending contact. His body moved with the grace of a dancer, sensitive to the ebb and flow of battle. He deflected the orc's massive strike with a flash of silver, his sword colliding with the creature's onslaught with a crash that echoed throughout the battlefield.

Zephyr was able to exchange a few blows with the monster before beginning to push back due to his lack of breath and power in comparison to the orc. Meanwhile, Arawn strained to use magic while also fighting with his sword. Sensing an opening, the orc delivered a hard punch that knocked Zephyr backwards. The orc marched relentlessly at Zephyr, raising its club high.

A loud Clack sound suddenly resonated in front of him. Two enormous chakrams stopped the club and held it back. Despite his pain, Zephyr sighed in relief as he realized the Guild Master had arrived to save him. The chakrams were a one-of-a-kind weapon, carefully constructed with razor-sharp blades and etched runes, and the Guild Master's hallmark weapon.

With a powerful push, the Guild Master forced the colossal orc back. He fluently used the other chakram to attack the monster's chest, leaving a deep wound. "Not so tough now," the Guild Master exclaimed with confidence. The orc, enraged, charged at the Guild Master, who infused his chakram with fire magic and threw it directly at the oncoming threat. The flaming chakram struck the orc, causing it to stagger backwards as the surrounding area ignited with fire.

The Guild Master's calculated tactics and mastery over his unique weapon turned the tide of the battle. The orc, now engulfed in flames, struggled against the relentless assault. The defenders, inspired by the Guild Master's intervention, rallied with renewed determination. The battlefield, once a dire spectacle of impending doom, now held a spark of hope as the flames of resistance burned bright.

The defenders managed to hold their ground on the battlefield as the veteran adventurers began to showcase their experience. "Arawn! Take Zephyr and go, and let this thing be to me," the Guild Master ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos of battle. "But I could still fight," Zephyr protested. Before Zephyr could resist further, Arawn took him and started running toward the back line. He knew they would become a hindrance to the Guild Master, and he also noticed that the armour on Zephyr's chest had already broken and pierced his chest. Blood started to rush out heavily, and Zephyr remained conscious, fueled by adrenaline.

As Arawn moved farther away from the Guild Master, the seasoned adventurer unleashed his chakram with even more ferocity. With each strong blow, the area filled with fire and burn marks as the deadly weapon swung. The Guild Master exhibited proficiency in both fire and chakram techniques, leaving the orc with fewer chances to retaliate.

Everyone on the battlefield could witness why the Guild Master held the title of "Frenzied Lion." His relentless attacks overwhelmed his opponent, a dance of precision and power that showcased years of battle-hardened skill. "It's been a long time since I had this much fun," the Guild Master thought to himself as he continued his onslaught, each strike a testament to his mastery in the art of combat. The flames danced in rhythm with his chakram, creating a mesmerizing spectacle amidst the chaos of the battle.

The defenders rallied around the Guild Master as he continued his relentless assault on the enormous orc. The battlefield became a monument to the seasoned adventurers' fortitude, with their concerted efforts pushing the huge threat back with each hit and spell.

Arawn, still supporting the injured Zephyr, observed the scene from the back line. The Guild Master's prowess was awe-inspiring, and for a moment, it seemed as though victory was within their grasp. The orc, battered and scorched, struggled against the relentless onslaught.

The defenders pressed forward with newfound vigour, propelled by a wave of hope. They synchronized their attacks, taking advantage of the Guild Master's weaknesses. A symphony of destruction rang throughout the battlefield as fireballs, arrows, and blades descended on the orc.

An unsettling shift occurred just as the tide seemed to tip in their favour. The defenders felt a collective shiver as the air thickened with an oppressive atmosphere. Despite its wounds, the orc shouted with increased ferocity, as if gathering strength from an unseen source of power.

When Arawn noticed the shift, he shared a troubled look with Zephyr. The orc's once-scattered wounds began to close, and its eyes gleamed with an unnerving intensity. The defenders, who had been victorious earlier, now confronted a new and more dangerous foe.

An ominous atmosphere had radiated from a distance on the battlefield before this change, like an impending storm on the horizon. During their brief success, the defenders sensed an unfathomable dread as the air filled with an ominous presence.

Then, in an instant, the monsters on the battlefield erupted with newfound aggression. The colossal orc, seemingly reinvigorated by an unseen force, exhibited a resilience that defied the wounds inflicted upon it. The once-scattered injuries closed before the defenders' eyes, leaving behind unblemished skin that reflected an eerie, malevolent glow.

As the orc's eyes intensified, the defenders felt a collective chill down their spines. The triumphant atmosphere that had enveloped them moments ago now gave way to a sense of foreboding. It became clear that whatever had cast the sinister aura from afar had unleashed a power that transcended the battlefield, turning the tide against the defenders.

Arawn's grasp on his sword tightened, and Zephyr, despite his injuries, stood alert. The orc, now an embodiment of uncontrolled rage, pushed forward with greater speed and ferocity than in prior assaults. The defenders were taken off guard and had to adjust to the rapid change in the battle's dynamics.

The evil aura from afar had predicted disaster, and as the enormous orc unleashed its onslaught, the defenders braced themselves for a battle that would transcend the physical realm. The battlefield, once a scene of defensive success, was now witness to a conflict of forces that threatened to swing the balance toward an unknown, dark fate.

The orc, fueled by a malevolent force, attacked with unprecedented aggression. Its massive limbs swung with brutal precision, striking down defenders with each thunderous blow. The once-coordinated defence began to crumble under the relentless assault, and many members of the defender team were knocked to the ground, their bodies bruised and battered.

Arawn, now armed with a sword, charged into battle beside Zephyr. Their motions were a desperate dance as they attempted to repel the orc's onslaught. Arawn struggled to strike a balance between his magic and swordplay, while Zephyr fought with intense resolve despite his wounds.

The battlefield, once filled with triumphant defenders' yells, now resonated with the sounds of clashing metal, orc roars, and pained cries of the fallen. The orcs' attacks appeared to defy physics as if guided by an alien force that went beyond the limitations of mortal warfare.

After noticing the catastrophic situation, the Guild Master fought his way back to the front lines. As he joined Arawn and Zephyr in their fight against the huge opponent, his chakrams burned with fire. Despite their heroic attempts, the group was pushed to the limit as the orc's relentless assault persisted.

As the orcs' hostility grew stronger, a wave of hopelessness washed over the defenders. The fallen fought to stand, their bodies throbbing from the savage punches. The orc, seemingly unaffected by exhaustion, continued with an insatiable bloodlust.

In that pivotal moment, the woman with the ash-grey hair stepped forward, her katana drawn with a fluid grace that hinted at a mastery of the blade. The defenders, battered and on the verge of despair, turned their gaze toward her, a flicker of hope rekindled in their eyes. As the monsters continued their relentless march, the woman raised her sword high, ready to face the oncoming onslaught.

Suddenly, the air became thicker, and time felt like it slowed down. A dark purple aura started to manifest around her, sending shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned adventurers. Only those well-acquainted with the perils of battle could feel the bloodthirsty aura she emitted. Arawn, in particular, felt the aura and started to lose his composure.

As the woman with the ash-grey hair unleashed her otherworldly presence, the atmosphere crackled with an energy that hinted at untold power. The defenders, caught between awe and fear, watched as the dark purple aura intensified, creating an otherworldly ambience on the battlefield. The woman, now a beacon of both dread and determination, stood at the forefront, her katana gleaming in the unnatural light.

The destiny of the battlefield hung in the balance, and the defenders were on the verge of panic. The woman's ferocious aura suggested a power beyond comprehension, and as she prepared to face the huge horde, the air crackled with tension, leaving both the defenders and the monsters breathless.