Ham moved like a battering ram given a temper.
Garth felt the shift the moment the boar's legs found their rhythm beneath him — that low, thunderous acceleration that started in the chest and built into something that shook the ground. He leaned forward, axe raised, and let Ham do what Ham did best.
The Alpha didn't retreat.
It lowered its head and met them.
The collision was brutal. Ham's shoulder drove into the Alpha's chest with enough force to crack the air. The beast slid back — not far, but enough. Garth swung immediately, using the elevation, bringing his axe down at an angle the Alpha couldn't easily dodge from its staggered position.
The blade bit into its shoulder.
Deep.
The Alpha snarled and twisted, swiping hard at Ham's flank. Garth dropped his axe arm and caught the claw strike on the flat of the blade, deflecting it wide, the impact rattling up through his grip.
"Not him." Garth muttered. "Me."
He activated Iron Lunge from atop Ham's back — driving the axe forward in an explosive thrust that caught the Alpha across the jaw. The beast's head snapped sideways.
Ham didn't wait. He drove forward again, tusks low, slamming into the Alpha's legs.
The Alpha stumbled.
Garth followed with Savage Charge — his own body throwing its weight behind a downward strike that cracked against the top of the Alpha's skull, forcing it to plant both front legs just to stay upright.
Blood ran freely from its shoulder now. Its breathing had changed — heavier, more deliberate.
But its eyes were still sharp.
Still thinking.
It shifted its angle, ducking under Garth's next swing and going straight for Ham, jaws closing toward the boar's neck. Garth yanked the reins hard, pulling Ham sideways, and activated Bone Grapple — fragments of hardened bone bursting outward and latching onto the Alpha's snout, forcing its head down.
The Alpha wrenched free.
But the bite missed.
Ham snorted, indignant and completely unbothered, and Garth exhaled through his teeth.
"Good boy."
They circled. Warrior, beast, and boar — all three breathing hard now, all three still standing.
Behind the line, two shapes lay motionless on the stone.
The Shackled Hounds that had breached the rear weren't moving. They'd been put down, but not cleanly — one of them had gotten Renn before it fell, and he was on one knee now, a hand pressed flat against the ground, steadying himself.
Shiri crouched beside him, scales dull with dust, one arm dark with a fresh wound.
"You alright, lad?"
Renn exhaled slowly. His bow arm trembled once, then stilled. "...Yes." A pause. "I think yes."
Shiri didn't look entirely convinced but nodded anyway, pushing himself upright with a grunt.
Kairo stood a few steps ahead of them both, still facing the battlefield, hands clasped behind his back. He hadn't turned around.
"Kairo." Shiri said.
"I heard." His voice was even. Measured. He didn't elaborate.
Shiri glanced at Renn, who gave a small shrug.
Kairo's fingers moved slightly — a quiet gesture — and the Command Nexus map flickered open at the edge of his vision. Formation markers. Movement patterns. The broader picture of everything playing out across the ruins, reduced to clean, readable data.
He scanned it once.
Then a fraction of the tension in his shoulders eased — almost imperceptibly.
"Garth just needs to hold a little longer," he said quietly, more to himself than either of them. "The final step is about to begin."
Shiri followed his gaze toward the front.
Neither of them said anything more.
The Alpha had figured out Ham.
Garth felt it in the way the beast started moving — no longer trying to match the boar's momentum head-on, instead sidestepping, drawing them into angles where the boar's charge became a liability rather than a weapon. It was patient now. Reading them.
Garth adjusted.
He kept Ham tighter, shorter bursts instead of full charges, and worked his own skills to fill the gaps — Bone Grapple to disrupt the Alpha's footing, Iron Lunge to punish any moment it tried to reset, axe swings timed to Ham's body checks to keep the beast from ever fully settling.
It was working.
Slowly. Painfully. But it was working.
The Alpha bled from five separate places now. Its movements, while still fast, carried a new weight to them — the kind that came from a body that had taken real punishment and was starting to feel it.
Then it stopped playing patient.
It lunged — not at Garth.
At Ham.
It came in from the side, low and fast, shoulder driving into the boar's ribs with a crack that sent Ham staggering hard. Garth swung to defend but the Alpha was already past the axe, momentum carrying it through, and the impact threw Garth sideways off the saddle.
He hit the ground rolling.
Came up fast.
Looked back.
The Alpha had turned. It was facing Ham now, head lowered, stalking forward slowly with the deliberate calm of something that had decided the boar was the easier target.
Something cold moved through Garth's chest.
"Oi." His voice came out rough. The Alpha didn't react. "Oi — you mutt, I'm talking to you!"
Still nothing.
Something grabbed his leg from behind.
A Shackled Hound — one of the stragglers still circling the edges of the fight — had lunged at him while his back was turned. Garth grabbed it by the legs before its jaws could close, the sheer instinct of it overriding everything else, and swung.
He threw it.
The hound sailed through the air and slammed into the Alpha's side.
The Alpha stopped. It turned slowly, claws cutting through the thrown hound almost dismissively, letting it drop without a second glance.
Now it was looking at Garth.
Garth raised his axe.
"Come here." His voice was low and flat and completely serious. "I'm your hunter."
He went forward.
Theo caught it from the sidelines between two swings of his own — a half-second glance across the battlefield, and that was all he needed.
Garth, bleeding, axe raised, charging a monster that had just thrown him off his boar and killed a hound with one swipe, wearing a look like this was exactly where he wanted to be.
Theo turned back to his own fight, katana flashing.
(Foolish) he thought. Then, reluctantly — (strong). The kind of strong that didn't come from power or skill or any system-assigned tier. The kind that was just built into a person whether they wanted it or not.
He filed it away quietly.
(I'll remember this fight)
Further down the line, Onyx stepped back from the last of three hounds, lance pulling free with a clean motion. He straightened, rolled one shoulder, and turned his gaze toward the front.
His expression didn't change.
It never did.
But his hollow eyes found Garth through the dust and chaos — found the orc mid-charge, axe rising, closing the distance toward the Alpha with everything he had left —
And stayed there.
Watching.
Waiting to see what came next.
To be continued....