Sleek, shadowy forms emerged through the portal. This time, they were quadrupedal creatures in the general shape of wolves, reminiscent of the shadowhounds Clive faced before but larger. Each stood taller than a man at the shoulder, with elongated limbs that ended in crystalline claws.

  “Shadowwolves” A guard muttered.

  Unlike the lumbering shadowknights, the shadowwolves moved with terrifying speed and agility. One by one, they poured out of the portal and flooded the plaza.

  The first leapt fifteen feet in a single bound, covering the distance to the nearest guard before he could even raise his weapon. The man swung his mace in desperation, but the creature twisted its body mid-air. The weapon passed harmlessly through empty space as the wolf tore out the guard's throat.

  Kell swung his massive warhammer at the nearest hound, but the creature darted backward, the weapon crushing the cobblestones instead. Three more wolves circled the Huntmaster, weaving in and out in perfect coordination. One darted in from the left while another lunged from the right, forcing Kell to pivot constantly, his hammer becoming more of a liability than an asset against such agile opponents.

  Kell smirked. “No point using a hammer to swat a fly. Gotta use the right tool for the job.”

  [Armiger Arsenal]

  The air in front of Kell glowed, particles of light coalescing into solid forms. A dozen different weapons materialized in a perfect semicircle, each hovering at a height for easy grasping, each of a different type and design.

  Kell’s face split into a fierce grin. He dropped his warhammer and reached for a pair of jet-black twin swords.

  "Now this is more like it!" he roared, spinning the weapon in a show of agility. He sliced and diced with the blades, tracing deadly arcs through the air as he settled into a balanced stance. "Come on then, you mangy pups!"

  Three wolves leapt toward Kell simultaneously from different angles, but Kell was ready. He stepped inside the first wolf's lunge, the swords crossing in a perfect X-strike through the creature's midsection. The shadowwolf let out a howl as it dissolved into wisps of darkness.

  Without pausing, Kell pivoted to meet the second wolf, one sword deflecting its crystalline claws while the other plunged into the creature's eye. The third wolf's jaws closed on empty air as Kell dropped into a low spin, blades extended outward, severing the beast's legs at the knees.

  The sounds of more footsteps thundered from the eastern side of the square as reinforcements finally arrived—a mixed group of hunters in leather gear and additional town guards in half-donned armor.

  "Hunters!" Kell shouted. "To me!"

  "So much for a quiet hunt," a red-haired woman with a scar commented dryly, nocking an arrow to a bone-white bow. "Save some for us, old man."

  Kell barked a laugh, already engaging another pair of wolves. "Plenty to go around, Nyra! Just mind the civilians!"

  The battle began to stabilize, the defenders finally able to hold their ground against the shadowy assault. But the portal still remained, pulsing with malevolent energy, and more creatures continued to emerge—larger shadowwolves, more knights, and amorphous shapes that had yet to fully materialize.

  "We need to close that portal!" the captain shouted over the din of combat. "Or they'll just keep coming!"

  A brilliant light punctured the night sky above the square, answering the captain's desperate plea. At first, Clive thought it was a shooting star, but it moved with a mind of its own, circling above the battle before diving toward them.

  The light resolved into the form of a massive bird composed entirely of flame—its wings spanning twenty feet or more, its tail a streamer of golden fire. Heat radiated from it as it circled lower, its cry a musical tone that somehow cut through the cacophony of battle.

  "The Phoenix!" someone shouted. "Archmage Joshua arrives!"

  Approaching from the direction of the Arcanum tower was a figure in red robes. The Archmage walked with unhurried confidence, one hand extended skywards to direct the phoenix's flight. Despite the chaos of battle, Clive noticed how the shadowwolves tracked the Archmage yet held back. Even the shadowknights seemed to give the mage a wide berth, as though some primal instinct warned them against challenging this particular prey.

  "Stand clear of the portal!" the Archmage called.

  The defenders scrambled to comply, pulling back to form a wider perimeter. The phoenix circled once more, then dove directly at the tear in reality. It disappeared into the darkness with a bang."

  The edges of the portal began to glow with orange light, as if being consumed from within. The tear contracted, its edges curling inward like burning paper. A burst of light erupted from the center of the portal, so intense that Clive had to shield his eyes. When he could see again, the portal had shrunk to half its previous size, its edges now flickering with flame.

  The remaining shadow creatures reacted with panic, those nearest to the portal being inexorably drawn back toward it, as if an invisible current were pulling them home. The shadowknights planted their feet, resisting, while the wolves howled in confusion.

  But the battle wasn't over. Those creatures too far from the portal's pull continued their assault with renewed desperation, as if knowing their retreat had been cut off.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Hold fast!" Kell shouted, impaling another wolf that had lunged for a fallen guard.

  A trio of shadowknights surrounded Clive. His grip tightened around his mace.

  Three versus one. Just a bit more. Let’s do this.

  The first thrust at him with a blade that whistled through the air. Clive spun to the left, and smashed his mace into the knight's breastplate, knocking it down.The second shadowknight attacked from his blind side. Clive dropped to one knee, and swung up in an uppercut, lifting the knight off the ground.

  Breathing hard, sweat stinging his eyes, Clive turned to face the third and largest shadowknight. The knight feinted left before bringing the blade down in an overhead arc that would cleave Clive in two. Clive raised his mace in desperate defense, knowing it wouldn't be enough—

  A brilliant light erupted from the western entrance of the square. A wave of golden radiance swept across the plaza. The shadowknight towering over Clive froze mid-strike, its sword halted inches from his face. Where the light touched the creature's armor, it began to smolder and hiss. Hairline fractures spread across its helm, leaking whisps of dark vapor.

  A hush fell over the battlefield as a solitary figure appeared at the plaza's western entrance.

  The Saintess strode into the square, her pearl-beaded hair gleaming in the light that emanated from her outstretched hands. Gone was the conversational woman from earlier; in her place stood a vessel of divine power, her eyes glowing with the same golden radiance that flowed from her fingertips.

  "By the grace of the Light, I banish you! Return to the darkness that spawned you!"

  The divine light expanded outward in a perfect circle, washing over the square like a tide. Where it touched shadow creatures, they writhed and dissipated, their forms unraveling like yarn pulled from a sweater. The shadowknight threatening Clive let out a sound like metal being torn apart, then collapsed into a pile of empty armor that quickly dissolved into nothingness.

  The combined assault of the phoenix's fire from within the portal and the Saintess's divine light from without proved too much for the shadowy invaders. One by one, they disintegrated or were pulled back into the rapidly shrinking portal, until only a handful of the strongest shadowknights remained, fighting with desperate ferocity.

  The Saintess approached these final foes. "Enough," she said.

  The remaining shadowknights froze in place, encased in translucent shells of divine energy. With another gesture, the Saintess sent them hurtling back toward the portal, which flared one final time before collapsing with a thunderclap that shook the cobblestones.

  Silence fell over the square, broken only by the breathing of the defenders and the moans of the wounded. The Saintess lowered her hands, the golden light fading as she swayed slightly on her feet. A nearby guard rushed to support her, but she waved him away, composing herself with visible effort.

  The Archmage inspected the spot where the portal had been, running his fingers through the air as if feeling for something invisible. "Sealed," he pronounced after a moment. "At least for now."

  The Saintess, the Archmage and the Huntmaster. As long as these three were here, Marblehaven would never fall.

  The crowd erupted into cheers at their victory.

  Huntmaster Kell leaned on a nearby wall. "What in all the hells was that?" he barked. "It’s been ages since the last Incursion."

  “The Devil grows bolder.” The Saintess replied.

  The immediate danger had passed, but the aftermath of the night's battle was only beginning to reveal itself. Guards and volunteers moved through the rubble, assessing damage and tending to the wounded.

  "Over here!" a guard called out, his voice cracking with barely contained horror. "Quickly! We need the Captain!"

  Clive followed the small crowd that hurried toward the eastern residential block, where elegant townhouses lined a narrow, tree-shaded lane. The guard stood at the entrance to a small courtyard, his face ashen as he pointed wordlessly inside.

  The sight that greeted them stole the breath from Clive's lungs. A group of seven townsfolk—men, women, and a child —stood frozen in a semicircle. Not hiding, not cowering, but arranged as if gathered for some purpose. Their bodies had been completely transformed to stone, the fine-grained gray material capturing every detail down to the folds in their clothing and the terror in their expressions.

  "They weren't like this before the attack," whispered a woman in a baker's apron who had joined the gathering onlookers. "I saw Eddard and Mara just yesterday evening at the market." She pointed to a middle-aged couple whose stone hands were clasped together in their final moments.

  The Captain pushed his way through the crowd, his face grim with exhaustion from the night's battle. "When did this happen? Was it during the incursion?"

  "Must have been, sir," the guard replied. "We swept this area before sundown yesterday. All was clear."

  That's when Clive noticed it—on the eastern wall of the courtyard, partially hidden behind an ornamental bush. Dark, rust-colored letters, crudely drawn yet somehow elegant in their deliberate strokes.

  "There," he said, pointing. "On the wall."

  The crowd fell silent as they registered the message written in what could only be blood:

  The faithful gather like swines in a slaughterhouse

  Offered up as tribute to the Demon King

  Their bodies shall form the vessel of His return

  The long night shall descend once more

  —The Devil

  A collective shudder passed through the assembled townspeople.

  "Blasphemy," whispered an elderly man, clutching a silver pendant of the Divine Light to his chest. "Blasphemy and heresy."

  The Captain stepped closer to the blood-scrawled message, his jaw clenched so tight that a muscle twitched beneath his skin. "Someone find me a cloth and water. We will not allow this filth to remain on our walls."

  Whispers rippled through the crowd, growing in intensity.

  "The statues... just like before..." "

  "The Saintess will protect us—"

  "But what if the prophecy is true?"

  "This is punishment for our lack of faith!"

  From somewhere in the crowd, a flask shattered against the cobblestones. The sharp smell of cheap spirits filled the air as a man with bloodshot eyes stumbled forward.

  "Don't you all see?" he slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at the statues. "It's the First Church! The faithful—that's who they're targeting! Each of these poor souls attended morning services, regular as clockwork."

  The revelation sent another wave of murmurs through the crowd. People began glancing at neighbors, mentally cataloging who attended services and who didn't.

  The Captain raised his voice above the growing chaos. "Return to your homes! A curfew is now in effect!"

  As the crowd reluctantly began to disperse, Clive noticed a lone figure standing apart from the others. The pearl-beaded hair identified her immediately as the Saintess, though the divine light had faded from her eyes. She studied the blood-script with an expression not of fear, but of profound sadness.

  “Karasmai,” she whispered.

  [Quest completed: Survive the Incursion]

  [Gained 2 Certainty Point]

  [HP +10]

  [MP+3]

  [Power level+3]

  [Clive Weston]

  HP:118

  MP:25

  Power Level:30

  ----------------

  What is the difference between a hero and a villain? What divides man from monster? what separates the righteous from the damned? One believes his violence serves a higher purpose. The other simply admits the truth.

  -Extract of “The Solitude of the Void”, autobiography of the Demon King.