The three massive ogres stood once more, their grotesque bodies pieced back together by an unseen force.
Stitches of dark energy wove through their torn flesh, sealing fatal wounds as if time itself had reversed.
Their bulging muscles twitched beneath scarred skin, thick drool spilling from gaping mouths.
Three pairs of glowing, malevolent eyes bore into their enemies with a hunger that defied death itself.
Their heads tilted in eerie synchronization, their movements jerky yet deliberate.
Then, they charged.
Faster than before.
Stronger than before.
Unrelenting.
Asael gritted his teeth, his hands tightening around his weapons as he lunged forward.
He would take one. Magnum and Lily readied themselves to handle another.
Steven steeled himself against the last.
Sirius and Anne stood back, magic swirling at their fingertips, their prayers whispered into the night.
But something was different now.
The battle had changed.
Every strike they landed was undone in an instant. Limbs severed—regrew.
Eyes pierced—returned.
Bodies felled—rose again.
No matter how many times they cut the monsters down, they simply refused to stay dead.
And through it all, the sound of the flute carried on, weaving its haunting melody into the fabric of the battlefield, sinking into their very bones.
The song gnawed at their strength, coiled around their thoughts like a creeping vine, threatening to drown them in despair.
If they didn’t stop Tores, this battle would never end.
"We need to stop the flute!" Asael shouted, dodging a sweeping club strike that sent tremors through the earth.
The team understood immediately.
Their attacks shifted.
They no longer aimed to destroy the undying ogres.
Instead, their weapons turned toward the source of their suffering.
Tores remained seated atop his throne of vines, his posture relaxed, fingers effortlessly caressing the flute.
His expression was one of calm amusement, as if this was all nothing more than a game.
His gaze met Asael’s.
Then, he smiled.
The vines moved.
The moment their spells and weapons surged toward him, the massive tangle of vines around Tores came to life.
They lashed out like living whips, striking with inhuman precision.
Thunder roared—only to be swallowed by the dense foliage. Ice spikes shattered against their writhing mass, their frozen shards lost within the twisting green.
Fire blazed, but the flames were smothered instantly, consumed by the ever-hungry vegetation.
Lily loosed a flurry of arrows, but they barely pierced the thick wall of vines before being buried in new growth.
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The vines were endless. Indestructible. Unstoppable.
A thorned tendril lashed out, its razor-sharp barbs slicing across Magnum’s arm.
He gasped, blood splattering onto the ground.
Another shot toward Steven, wrapping around his waist.
The moment it touched him, the thorns buried deep into his flesh, puncturing his side.
He let out a ragged cry, gripping the vine with both hands, forcing himself free with a desperate wrench—but the damage was done.
Blood poured from gaping wounds, staining his armor red.
Anne rushed forward, golden light spilling from her hands as she tried to mend the injuries, but the ogres took advantage of the momentary distraction.
The first ogre swung its club down toward Asael.
The sheer force of impact sent a shockwave through the earth, dust and rock exploding into the air.
Asael barely managed to evade, but the tremor knocked him off balance.
Before he could recover, a massive hand closed around him, fingers like iron bands crushing his body.
His ribs groaned under the pressure, his vision blurring. He struggled, twisting, gasping for air, but the ogre’s grip was unyielding.
It grinned.
Then, it opened its mouth.
A foul stench of rot and old blood filled Asael’s nostrils as he realized what was coming.
The creature was about to bite him in half.
An arrow whistled through the air and buried itself deep into the ogre’s open maw.
“Not on my watch!” Lily shouted.
The ogre howled, its grip loosening just enough for Asael to break free, landing hard on the ground.
His breath came in ragged gasps, but there was no time to recover.
The second ogre—the one facing Magnum and Lily—charged.
It didn’t swing its weapon. It simply ran, a living avalanche of muscle and rage.
Magnum threw up his hands, summoning a storm of wind to slow its momentum, but it was too fast.
“Move!”
The ogre slammed into them.
Lily managed to roll away at the last second, but Magnum wasn’t as lucky.
The impact sent him flying, his body slamming into a crumbling stone wall with a sickening crack.
He didn’t get up.
Anne screamed, rushing toward Magnum, hands glowing with desperate magic.
But before she could reach him, the vines coiled toward her, twisting through the air like serpents preparing to strike.
Asael forced himself to his feet, panting, his hands shaking.
This was impossible.
No matter how hard they fought, the ogres refused to die.
The vines refused to fall. And Tores—Tores just sat there, playing that damned flute, his expression calm, detached, untouchable.
Something inside Asael snapped.
They were wasting time. If they let this continue, they would all die here.
“I’ll break through.”
His grip tightened around his weapons. His golden aura flared, illuminating the battlefield.
This wasn’t about fighting the ogres anymore. This wasn’t about survival.
This was about ending the nightmare.
"Cover me!" he shouted.
Lily, Steven, and Sirius understood instantly. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t question him. They simply acted.
Steven rushed forward, unleashing a storm of thunder, lightning crackling through the air.
Lily rained arrows from above, forcing the ogres to shield their faces.
Sirius conjured a wall of ice, a temporary barrier to slow the advancing vines.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Asael charged.
His weapons cut through the vines, slicing a path toward Tores.
He moved with unrelenting speed, tearing through the tangled mass that sought to hold him back.
Tores watched him come.
He didn’t panic. He didn’t flinch.
He simply smiled.
Then, he played his flute louder.
The vines surged forward, a tidal wave of green fury, determined to crush Asael before he could reach his target.
But then Steven intervened.
---
Asael and Steven gritted their teeth, their bodies screaming in protest.
Every muscle burned, their breaths came ragged, but they couldn't stop now.
The battlefield was a storm of chaos.
Blood and dust swirled through the air, mixing with the scent of burnt flesh and damp earth.
Magnum raised his hands, calling upon the wind spirits.
A sudden gust surged beneath their feet. Then— they moved.
Faster than before.
Faster than the eye could follow.
Like wraiths, they weaved through the battlefield, slipping past the ogres' massive clubs, each monstrous swing missing them by a hair’s breadth.
The sheer force of the wind howled in their ears as they surged forward, their target clear.
Tores.
The voodooist sat upon his throne of writhing vines, his bony fingers pressed against the eerie flute.
He never looked up. He never stopped playing.
The melody slithered through the air like a living curse, sinking its invisible claws into flesh and bone.
Every note twisted reality itself, drowning the battlefield in an endless nightmare.
No matter how many times the ogres fell, they rose again, bloodied and broken, yet unwilling to die.
But Asael and Steven refused to yield.
They struck.
Blades sang as they cut through the air.
Lightning roared like an angry storm.
Fire exploded in bursts of orange and crimson.
Yet it was never enough.
Again. And again. And again.
Every time they closed in, the vines surged forward like a tidal wave of thorns, blocking their path.
The thick, pulsing mass absorbed every attack, refusing to yield, no matter how fiercely the fire burned or how violently the lightning cracked.
They couldn't break through.
Then— something changed.
While Asael and Steven fought desperately to reach Tores, the rest of their team had turned their weapons against the ogres.
And then—
One of them fell.
The first ogre dropped to its knees with a guttural gurgle, its massive hands clawing at the gaping wound in its throat. Blood gushed in thick, violent streams, its monstrous body convulsing.
For the first time— an ogre did not rise again.
Tores’ melody wavered.
His fingers faltered.
A single note cracked, sharp and ugly.
For the first time, his dark eyes flickered with something dangerously close to panic.
It was then that Asael and his team understood.
Tores could only play one melody at a time.
He couldn’t cast multiple spells.
He couldn’t resurrect and attack at once.
It wasn’t just a limitation.
It was a weakness.
His tongue had been cut out by humans long ago.
Stripped of his voice, he had only his flute— his only weapon, his only means of power.
And because of that, he could never dual-cast.
Asael and his companions didn’t know his past.
They didn’t care.
They only knew one thing.
If they kept him occupied, he couldn’t save his ogres.
And so—
They abandoned all defense.
They stopped dodging.
They stopped worrying about the vines.
They ignored the pain and wounds that carved into their flesh.
And they attacked.
The second ogre bellowed in rage, swinging blindly as Lily’s arrows buried deep into its eyes, piercing through the soft, jelly-like orbs.
Sirius’ ice magic froze its limbs solid, locking it in place.
Steven raised his hand, calling forth the storm.
Lightning tore through the sky, a blinding pillar of destruction crashing down upon the beast.
Electricity surged through its veins, searing flesh and boiling blood.
It convulsed, its mouth frothing, body twitching violently before collapsing with a final, shuddering breath.
Its skull cracked against the blood-soaked earth.
Tores’ flute stumbled again.
Another note fractured, broken and dissonant.
His face twisted in fury, but before he could switch to a resurrection spell—
The third ogre was already dying.
Magnum’s storm winds sliced through its thick hide, peeling away flesh in deep, gaping wounds.
Anne raised her hands, and divine energy twisted into searing chains, wrapping around its thick throat.
The light burned into its skin, sinking deeper, deeper— until it began to glow from within.
The ogre screamed.
But it was not the roar of a beast.
It was something else.
Something painfully human.
Then, with one final, agonized gasp— it fell.
The battlefield fell into silence.
There were no ogres left to rise again.
Now, only Tores remained.
