The battle had become a blur of red blood and desperate resolve.
The Ironkong-Virefang Joint Task Force moved as a single, battered organism. They had carved a path through the heart of the horde, but the cost was etched on every face.
The Virefang knights were flagging. Their breathing was ragged, their precise, elegant strikes losing their snap. They were sprinters forced into a marathon, their lighter frames struggling under the relentless crushing weight of the Class-X aura.
"Watch your left!" Tag roared, stepping in to shoulder-check a massive lizard-beast that had lunged at a stumbling Virefang knight.
Skarrin followed up instantly, his metal coils flashing as he whipped them around the beast's legs, hampering it long enough for the Virefang to recover and drive a sword through its skull.
"Appreciated," the Virefang gasped, sweat soaking his sleek armor.
"Don't mention it," Skarrin grunted, clicking his coils back into place. "Just keep movin'. We ain't dyin' here."
It was becoming clear: the Ironkongs were the anvil, and the Virefangs were the hammer. Alone, the Virefangs would have been overrun by the sheer physicality of the beasts. Alone, the Ironkongs might have been swarmed. Together, they were surviving.
Barek, Bronx, and Krog were a wrecking crew on the flank. They had fallen into a brutal rhythm. Krog would snag a beast with his chain, Bronx would shatter its balance with a seismic stomp, and Barek—glowing with that terrifying crimson steam—would finish it with his Skull-crusher.
"Easy," Bronx grinned, smashing a wolf's ribcage. "I like it."
Up front, Commander Zorr and Captain Valera were a whirlwind of destruction. Zorr took the heavy hits, his greatsword cleaving paths through the meat, while Valera danced in his wake, her rapier blindingly fast, piercing eyes and throats.
"We're almost clear!" Zorr shouted, decapitating a stalker. "The tree line breaks ahead! PUSH!"
They surged forward, fueled by the desperate hope of open ground. They broke through the final line of trees, stumbling out of the suffocating canopy of the Crimson Forest and onto the rocky ridge of the border.
And then, everything stopped.
The horde didn't follow. The hundreds of violet-eyed beasts halted at the tree line, pacing back and forth like dogs hitting an invisible fence. They watched the squad with hungry, silent stares.
"They stopped?" Valera whispered, her chest heaving. She wiped slime from her face. "Why?"
"I don't like this," Zorr growled. He scanned the ridge. It was empty. Too empty.
Then, the air grew heavy.
It wasn't the scattered pressure of the horde. This was a focused, crushing gravity that made their knees buckle. And it wasn't just one wave.
THOOM. THOOM. THOOM.
Three distinct pulses of overwhelming power rolled over them.
"That ain't the Entity," Zorr whispered, his grip tightening on his sword. "It's similar… but there's three of 'em."
From the red mist swirling at the edge of the ridge, three shapes emerged.
They were Behemoths.
They towered over the squad, standing nearly twenty feet tall. They were humanoid, like the Entity, but where the Entity was skeletal and phantom-like, these things were built for war. Massive slabs of violet muscle were encased in natural obsidian rock hard skin. Their arms were thick as tree trunks, ending in hands that could grab a tank.
And their eyes three pairs of burning, violet suns—looked down with terrifying intelligence.
"Oh, hell no," Skarrin breathed, stepping back.
Tag swallowed hard. "That's… that's a lotta beef."
The Virefang knights, already teetering on the edge of exhaustion, gripped their weapons with white-knuckled desperation. They favored their mental discipline, forcing their bodies to stand firm against the fear.
Barek looked up at the Titans. He didn't look scared. He looked amazed.
Krog? Krog just began smiling wider, a low, broken giggle bubbling in his throat.
Bronx stepped up beside Barek. "Well," he said, his voice trying for confidence but cracking slightly. "Guess we found the bosses. You got enough juice left for the big one, Lil' Man?"
Barek grinned, though sweat poured down his face. "Always, big man. Always."
Zorr stepped to the front. "Look alive! Prepare for the worst!"
Valera stood beside him, her rapier held steady, her fierce eyes narrowing. She was tired, but she was a Captain. She wouldn't break.
Zorr reached for his radio. He had to try. "Command. This is Zorr. We have encountered three Class-X Titans. Requesting immediate backup."
He expected static. He expected dead air.
Click.
"...Zorr? Is that you?!"
The voice on the other end wasn't the calm, precise tone of Vane. It was a chaotic scream, layered over the sounds of explosions and roaring.
"I read you!" Zorr barked. "We need extraction! We have—"
"FORGET EXTRACTION!" the operator screamed. "THE VILLAGE! THE VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK! THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! THE WALLS ARE BREACHED! WE NEED ALL HANDS ON DECK! GET BACK HERE! GET BACK HERE NO—"
CRUNCH.
The line went dead.
Zorr lowered the radio slowly. His face was a mask of absolute horror.
"No…" Zorr whispered.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. The Entity hadn't been hiding. It hadn't been sleeping.
It had outsmarted them.
"Zorr?" Valera asked, sensing his dread. "What is it?"
"The Village," Zorr rasped, turning to look at her, his single eye wide. "It's being invaded. The Entity… he went for the village."
A deep, booming laughter rolled in-front of them in the direction of the titans.
The center Titan stepped forward, it step it took creating massive craters in the land. Its voice booming all over the tiny vampires before him.
"The… realization… dawns."
The squad froze. Beasts that spoke.
"Your… home… burns," the Titan rumbled, its violet eyes narrowing in amusement. "The… Red King… sends… his… regards." It smiled at Zorr.
"Speak up now," Zorr snarled, pointing his sword at them. "Identify yaselves"
The Titan spread its massive arms, gesturing to his monstrous kin.
"We… are… the… Vanguard. Generals... of... the... Red... King."
It pointed to the beast on its right, a creature with four massive arms. "General... Twelve... Vruk."
Then to the beast on its left, a creature with massive obsidian spikes erupting from its shoulders. "General... Eleven... Malak."
The center Titan thumped its own chest, the sound like a war drum. "And I... am... General... Ten... Goros."
"And… you… are...to...die… here."
Silence crashed down on the squad. Generals? Ranked Ten, Eleven, and Twelve? If these monsters—creatures radiating enough power to crush the forest were the bottom of the hierarchy, then there were nine more out there. Nine more that were stronger.
And the Entity... the "Red King"... was above them all.
"AAAARGHHHHHHH!"
The scream tore through the tension.
Every head snapped around.
Barek was on the ground. He was thrashing, clutching his chest, his back arching in unnatural angles.
"Barek!" Bronx yelled, dropping to his knees beside him.
Barek's skin was rippling. His muscles were spasming violently, expanding and contracting as if something was trying to claw its way out of him. The veins in his neck turned black, then crimson, then blinding white.
Zorr stared at him. He knew the signs. Everyone did, they've all experienced it before, but never this violent. Never this fast.
"He's evolving," Zorr shouted. "His body is forcing the change! The strain from the Original Art pushed him over the edge!"
Barek screamed again, a sound of pure agony.
"Fix him man!" Skarrin yelled.
Bronx fumbled for the flask of human blood at his belt. "Drink! Come on, man, drink!"
He poured the red fluid into Barek's mouth. Barek choked, swallowed, and convulsed one last time.
Then, he went still.
His screaming stopped. His breathing shallowed. But the air around him was scorching hot. Clouds of white vapor hissed from his pores, obscuring his body in a thick mist.
"He suddenly went quiet" Valera spoke, her voice tight. She looked at the boy, then at the Titans. 'Who is he? To evolve so soon ...'
"He's out," Zorr announced, his voice grim. "We don't know for how long. The evolution coma could last minutes or days."
Zorr turned back to the Three Generals. He raised his greatsword.
"We fight without him," Zorr commanded. "Protect the boy! Hold the line! FOR THE VILLAGE!"