King Goblin's presence changed everything. The horde was no longer a disorganized mass, but a blade directed with cruel intelligence. The assaults became more targeted, targeting weak points, separating the defenders. The ravine turned into a series of small, isolated pockets of resistance, each struggling to survive.
In this maelstrom, death was a harvester, but it also fed frantic growth. The students, pushed to their absolute limits, drew on reserves they did not know they had. And the ether of fallen monsters infiltrated them, triggering sudden and chaotic transformations.
A blinding glow suddenly bursts to Hakime's right. A student with a blessing of rank D (Light Minor) had just reached level 3. His power, hitherto weak, intensified abruptly. He projected a ray of light so intense that he carbonated two goblins instantly, but he lost control, briefly blinding his own comrades and creating a momentary breach in their coordination.
Further on, a young girl with E-rank water control screamed in surprise as her power evolved. A single jet of water became a sharp cone of ice that skewered a slime. But the wave of energy that accompanied it was so strong that it also froze the defender's boot next to it, nailing him to the spot until another student broke the ice.
"They lose control!" cried Lyra, dodging a stream of corrosive venom. Her own level 3 gave her a redoubled accuracy, each shard of glass found its target, but she also had to deal with the uncontrolled power explosions around her.
Arthur was everywhere. His agility at level 3 made him almost elusive. He used his new skills not only to attack, but also to save struggling comrades, pulling them out of range of a club or an acid roll. Each rescue, each monster killed, brought it one step closer to level 4.
Conor was a rock. His reinforced Ironskin was resistant to blows that would have broken his bones a few hours earlier. It served as a mobile anchor, moving to reinforce breaking points, its shield and mass crushing everything in their path. He roared in triumph as he reached level 4, feeling his skin become as hard as steel, and hit the ground with his shield, creating a shock wave that made a dozen goblins wobble.
But these individual, though impressive, levels added to the chaos. Students, intoxicated by sudden power, launched more powerful but less controlled attacks, potentially hurting their allies. There was no coherent front line, only a series of wild duels and melees.
Hakime, in the midst of this storm, struggled with cold determination. He had reached level 2, but every ether point was valuable. He used his spear with a deadly economy, reserving his light for critical moments: a flash to blind a group, a small shield to protect Arthur, a concentrated ray to pierce a corrosive slime before he reaches a defender. He felt the progression to level 3, but it was a slow ascent, one drop of ether at a time. The difference between his SSS rank and the others had never been more obvious.
Suddenly, an explosion of fire larger than the others lit up the entrance to the ravine. Loïd, his face distorted by a mixture of effort and exaltation, had just reached level 4. An aura of intense heat surrounded him. His fire was no longer mere balls, but incandescent snakes that laced the horde, creating blazes that continued to burn. He laughed, a wild and arrogant sound, drinking the power that flooded him.
"You see?" he yelled at Hakime, even though the distance and noise made communication almost impossible. Not your little lights!"
His assault was so violent that he created a temporary breach in the tide, but he also burned some of the scree, depriving his team of their best defensive position. Elara and Kaito had to retreat under a rain of molten stones.
The chaos was at its height. The monsters were advancing, pushed by their king. Students fought with desperate courage, their powers growing erratically, sometimes saving the situation, often making it worse. The strategy no longer existed. All that remained was survival, moment by moment.
Hakime, breathless, his clothes torn and covered with soot and black blood, realized that this dispersion was killing them. They had to regroup. And to do that, you had to hit your head. His gaze rose again to King Goblin, still safe on his ridge, orchestrating the massacre.
"Arthur! Conor! Lyra!" he shouted, gathering his team in a small pocket of relative calm. "We can't stand like this! We must reach the king!"
But how do you cross a sea of monsters to reach their leader? The answer came in the form of a familiar roar of defiance. Loïd, from the height of his new power, had the same idea. His eyes met those of Hakime through the fray, and for the first time there was no contempt, but a fierce recognition of necessity.
Their rivalry would become an alliance, at least during a suicidal charge.