“Wow! We can see the four Great Warriors and Lakan fight for real!”
“But their opponent is a Minotaur… do they even stand a chance?”
“They have to! They’re strong—believe in them!”
The air was thick with tension, the weight of the battle pressing down on every soul watching. This was no ordinary fight—this was survival.
If they failed, the Minotaur would tear through them like a force of nature, leaving behind only ruin and death. No mercy. No retreat. Their fate balanced on the edge of a blade.
Lakan stood at the front, his heart pounding like a war drum, his grip tightening around his weapon. His breath was steady. There was no room for fear.
Behind him, the four Great Warriors exchanged determined glances, their bodies thrumming with battle-ready energy.
Then—
They moved.
In a single, explosive moment, they charged forward, their war cries shaking the battlefield. Steel met the roar of the beast.
The fight for survival had begun.
Lakan and Zarik gathered all their Ki into their hearts, feeling it throb like a war drum—steady, powerful, unrelenting. Then, with a forceful release, the energy surged through their bodies, sharpening their senses, reinforcing their muscles. Their movements became fluid, deadly.
"Heart Ki."
Baloga, running close behind, shut his eyes for a moment. He steadied his breath, then let his blood surge. His veins pulsed, muscles tensed, power coursing through his body beyond its natural limits.
"Blood Surge."
Drogath threw his head back and roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield as he invoked the name of his god. "HAAAH! O mighty Gorzhul, bless this warrior’s spirit with strength!"
Dalangpan tightened his grip around his warhammer, his fingers pressing firmly against the worn handle. As his palms met the weapon’s surface, a surge of understanding flowed through him. Every groove, every weight shift, every balance point—it all became an extension of his body. Closing his eyes, he let the weapon speak to him, its essence unraveling in his mind.
"Weapon Master."
Without hesitation, the four Great Warriors and Lakan unleashed their techniques. There was no holding back—this was a fight to the death.
Sensing the surge of power in his enemies, the Minotaur bellowed in rage. Flames crackled along his massive form as he gathered all his fire energy into his throat. A massive fireball ignited in his mouth, growing larger by the second.
Then—he hurled it at them.
Lakan's eyes widened. "Dirt Wall!" he shouted, slamming his hands into the ground.
A thick earthen barrier erupted just in time, absorbing the fireball’s impact. The explosion sent a shockwave tearing through the battlefield, hurling debris in all directions and engulfing the warriors in a dense, suffocating dust cloud.
Zarik and Baloga seized the moment.
“Now!” Zarik whispered, his voice barely audible over the dying roar of the blast.
Without hesitation, the two warriors lunged through the swirling dust, their blades poised to sever the Minotaur’s legs in a single, decisive strike.
But—
BOOM! CRACK!
The Minotaur’s hoof slammed into the ground with earth-shattering force. A violent tremor ripped through the battlefield as jagged fissures split the land beneath them. Lakan and the four Great Warriors staggered, struggling to keep their footing as the ground buckled beneath them. They barely managed to leap back in time, stumbling as the cracks widened at their feet.
"This damn monster!" Baloga growled, gritting his teeth.
Then, without warning, the Minotaur charged. His massive club arced through the air—only to stop abruptly.
A feint.
His hulking arm twisted mid-motion, muscles coiling like steel cords, and in an instant, another fireball ignited in his mouth, its furious glow illuminating the battlefield. Flames crackled along his tusks, the air around him distorting with searing heat.
Lakan’s heart dropped. He reacted a second too late. “Shit—Dirt Wa—”
“Move aside!” Dalangpan’s voice cut through the chaos.
With a mighty roar, he swung his warhammer into a loosened boulder—the same one the Minotaur’s stomp had dislodged moments before. The colossal rock tore through the air like a meteor, colliding with the fireball mid-flight. Flames sputtered and died against the stone’s surface, but the boulder did not stop. It kept going—hurtling straight toward the Minotaur with unstoppable force.
Drogath’s eyes gleamed with fierce determination.
Now’s my chance.
With a burst of speed, he sprinted toward the Minotaur, his powerful strides keeping pace with the massive rock. Dust and embers swirled around him, the battlefield trembling beneath his feet. Then, just as the boulder was about to make contact—.
Startled the Minotaur quickly swing his club down to the boulder. Then—.
Drogath leaped—.
SWIISH!
Drogath’s swing downward his club carved through the air like a falling meteor—
BOOM!
The strike smashed against the Minotaur’s skull with a thunderous crack, forcing the massive beast to reel backward. Its hooves scraped against the earth, kicking up dirt as it struggled to steady itself.
Yet, despite the sheer power behind the blow, the Minotaur did not fall.
Drogath gritted his teeth. "Shit, this guy’s tough." then return quickly for safety
The Ignitaur recovered instantly, its body unscathed, and locked eyes with Drogath, its gaze burning with murderous intent. With a deafening snort, it charged, its hooves pounding the ground like thunder. As it closed in, the Minotaur’s massive club began to rise—
“Mud Flow!” Lakan shouted, his hands flashing with energy.
The earth beneath the Minotaur lurched and softened, swallowing its legs in an instant.
“It’s stuck! Everyone, now—leap and kill it!” Zarik bellowed.
Lakan, without wasting a second, focused his energy and retrieved the mana he had spent to harden the ground once more, locking the Minotaur in place.
The four warriors launched into the air, their weapons gleaming in the firelight, poised for a decisive strike.
But—
With a guttural snarl, the Minotaur slammed its club into the ground with earth-shattering force. The impact sent a violent shockwave rippling outward, hurling its attackers back. Dust and debris exploded into the air as the beast tore itself free.
Then—
"ROOOOAARRR!"
The Minotaur’s furious roar ripped through the battlefield, a sonic blast that sent a crippling shock through their bodies.
“Ahh!” Drogath and Dalangpan staggered, clutching their heads as the sound pierced their skulls like jagged blades.
“Shit, it ruptured my ear!” Baloga cursed, his vision blurring from the pain.
DRIP!
Blood trickled from Lakan and Zarik’s noses. Their heightened senses had made the blow far worse, the pain relentless.
“Everyone, use your healing potions!” Baloga shouted. Drinking half of his potion.
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But Zarik and Lakan didn’t respond—the two were still writhing in agony, their heads pounding from the devastating sonic blast.
Baloga’s eyes narrowed. “Drogath, Dalangpan—go help them! I’ll hold off the Ignitaur. This thing won’t die unless we go all out!”
With a roar, Baloga launched forward, his muscles tensing as his blood pumped like fire through his veins.
“Blood Rush!”
A surge of power exploded through his body—his eyes flared crimson, his hair bleached white in an instant, and his movements became a blur.
The Ignitaur snarled, locking eyes with him. In a flash, it swung its massive club in a brutal sideward arc, aiming to crush him in one blow.
Baloga ducked low, the wind from the swing screaming past his head as the club barely missed, shattering the ground behind him. Baloga manage to avoid and went straight to the Ignitaur’s crotch.
The Ignitaur reacted instantly to Baloga’s attack, raising its knee in a brutal counterstrike.
But Baloga was already too close. The knee slammed into his torso, but with little momentum, it lacked the force to break him. Gritting his teeth through the impact, Baloga lunged forward and thrust his sword straight into the Ignitaur’s crotch.
"ROOOOAAAARRR!"
The Ignitaur’s agonized bellow shook the battlefield. It threw its head back, horns slicing through the air, and stomped wildly, sending cracks spider webbing across the ground. Its muscles convulsed, and it lashed out, swinging its arms in a frenzy, desperate to crush anything nearby.
Baloga took a direct hit, one of the Ignitaur’s wild swings crashing into him with bone-crushing force. He twisted his body mid-air, raising his arm in a desperate attempt to block, but the sheer power of the blow still sent him flying.
He slammed into the ground, his arm bent at a sickening angle, his jaw hanging loosely from the impact.
“Hahaha! Oops—looks like the next generation just got cut off.” Baloga grinned through the pain, his voice strained as his broken arm dangled uselessly at his side.
Without hesitation, he ripped the last healing potion from his belt, downing it in one gulp while gritting his teeth and forcefully snapping his jaw back into place.
"Damn, this healing potion is a lifesaver. Hey, you sissies—are you done patching yourselves up? Get off your asses and help me out here!" he barked.
As the potion worked its magic, his arm straightened, bones snapping back together, his jaw realigning perfectly. Strength surged back into his limbs.
Meanwhile, at the base...
The group had taken refuge in a hidden cave, the same place Lakan had used for his grueling training. The air inside was thick with tension, the distant sounds of battle echoing in the night.
Elder Ulganar stood before them, his voice steady yet solemn.
“Everyone, let us pray for the warriors risking their lives for our safety.”
The flickering firelight danced against the cave walls, and in that moment, the refuges bowed their heads, their silent prayers carrying the weight of hope and survival.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield...
The battle raged on.
Injured warriors, now back on their feet, rallied once more, charging back into the fray. Those left on the fortified walls, with no monsters left to fight, watched in tense silence, their eyes locked onto the brutal clash between the five warriors and the Minotaur-like beast.
“Lakan! Sir Orrin sent you something!” Azrath’s voice cut through the chaos.
Without hesitation, he hurled the vial through the air.
Still reeling from the battle, Lakan steadied himself, his breath ragged. He clenched his jaw, forced his aching limbs to move, and snatched the bomb just before it could slip past his fingers.
“That’s a stink bomb! Leader Orrin said to get it to you!” Azrath called out.
Lakan’s grip tightened around the vial, his mind racing. This was it. The chance they needed. His eyes sharpened, burning with fierce determination.
“Alright! Fall back now!” he barked.
The four Great Warriors wasted no time. Like a storm of steel and fury, they launched themselves at the wounded Ignitaur. Their weapons struck in perfect, merciless rhythm—each blow landing with devastating precision, each strike calculated to break the beast down piece by piece.
Lakan raised his sword high, the fire in his veins matching the inferno in his eyes.
"Make me an opening!" he commanded, his voice ringing with authority.
Dalangpan gritted his teeth and pushed himself to the absolute limit. Muscles tensed, his grip tightened around his weapon, and with a mighty roar, he unleashed his full power.
"Weapon Mastery: Advance!"
The battlefield trembled as his energy surged, ready to carve a path straight to victory.
His body shifted, muscles adapting to wield his warhammer with unparalleled precision. With a mighty swing, he slammed it into the earth—
BOOM!
The ground cracked beneath the force, sending violent tremors through the battlefield. The Ignitaur staggered, struggling to stay upright as the earth betrayed its footing.
Seizing the moment, Zarik let out a roar and surged forward like a predator closing in on its prey.
"Ki Constitution!"
His body transformed—his form becoming sleeker, more feline. His fangs lengthened, his claws sharpened, and his muscles coiled, ready to strike. Ki surged through his veins like a raging storm, making his movements fluid and deadly.
With blinding speed, he darted toward the stumbling Ignitaur, claws gleaming, ready to tear through its defenses.
The Minotaur swung its club in a desperate counterattack, but Zarik twisted out of the way, dodging just in time. However, the beast was relentless—it slammed into him with a powerful shoulder bash, sending him flying.
Zarik hit the ground hard, coughing up dust, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself back up. His eyes burned with determination—he wasn’t done yet.
The Ignitaur threw back its head, fire gathering in its throat, preparing to unleash another devastating blast.
Zarik **acted first—**he hurled his sword straight at the Minotaur’s face!
The Ignitaur snarled and twisted aside, dodging the incoming blade. But then—
"FIGHTING SPIRIT!"
Drogath’s voice boomed across the battlefield, shaking the very air with its raw intensity. His muscles coiled like steel, veins pulsing as an unrelenting surge of power ignited his aura, sending waves of heat and fury rippling outward.
All fear was gone—burned away in the inferno of battle.
Only unshakable courage remained.
Seizing the moment, Drogath roared and charged—an unstoppable force of sheer might.
Like a living avalanche, he slammed into the Ignitaur, his brutal shoulder tackle colliding with bone-crushing force. The beast lurched, its massive body torn from its footing as Drogath drove it into the dirt!
Lakan, still gripping the stink bomb tightly, watched in stunned awe.
“So this is why they’re called Great Warriors…” he muttered under his breath.
"NOW, LAKAN!" Drogath’s voice thundered as his arms wrapped around the struggling beast, locking it in place with unyielding strength.
Lakan sprang into action, feet pounding against the battlefield as he sprinted forward—but the moment he neared—
“AGH! Damn it, he’s burning hot!” Drogath gritted his teeth, his grip faltering as blistering heat seared his skin.
“Drogath! Fall back—NOW!” Lakan barked, forcing his hands into a spell.
“Mud Flow!”
Drip.
Blood trickled from Lakan’s nose, his vision momentarily swimming as the spell’s strain gnawed at his mind.
The ground beneath the Ignitaur quivered—then collapsed into thick, shifting mud!
BOOM!
The beast’s fiery energy exploded outward, a violent shockwave sending mud flying in every direction. Steam hissed, embers crackled—but the Ignitaur’s power was fading. It struggled to rise, remembering—**too well—**what had happened last time.
Lakan wiped the blood from his nose, his breathing ragged but his resolve unshaken. His gaze locked onto his target.
“Drogath, throw me at it!”
Drogath didn’t hesitate.
With a primal growl, he snatched Lakan up and, with a monstrous burst of strength, hurled him straight at the trapped Ignitaur!
At the same time, Zarik and Baloga burst forward—twin streaks of razor-sharp steel, their blades gleaming like moonlit death.
The Ignitaur snarled, molten eyes flashing as it raised a hand, flames twisting around its clawed fingers—
But Dalangpan was faster.
With a deafening roar, he ripped a boulder from the earth and hurled it with all his might. The massive rock tore through the air like a meteor, slamming into the Ignitaur’s side with a sickening crunch. The beast staggered, its spell snuffed out as its balance shattered.
Zarik and Baloga didn’t waste a second.
They charged at full speed, their blades carving brutal arcs through the air. The steel bit into the Ignitaur’s legs, slicing through its thick hide. The wounds weren’t deep, but they didn’t need to be—this wasn’t about taking it down.
It was all to set up Lakan.
Lakan landed perfectly, his hands gripping onto the Ignitaur’s massive head as he clung on for dear life.
"Shit! You’re burning up—" he gritted his teeth, the searing heat licking at his skin. Every nerve screamed in agony, but he refused to let go.
With a swift, desperate motion, he jammed the stink bomb into the beast’s nostrils and clenched it tight.
Then—
"Fireball!"
Flames erupted from his palm, igniting the bomb inside the Ignitaur’s nose.
ROAAAR!
The Ignitaur thrashed violently, its bellow shaking the battlefield. Blood and mucus streamed from its burning nostrils, the acrid stench of scorched flesh filling the air. It howled in agony, swinging its massive arms blindly, its claws slashing at the empty air, trying—desperate—to rip Lakan off.
But Lakan held on.
“Fireball! Fireball! FIREBALL!”
Each blast of flame detonated against the beast’s face, scorching, blistering, burning. His vision blurred, his lungs felt like they were collapsing, and blood dripped from his nose and mouth from the sheer strain of his magic.
Yet he roared through the pain.
“ATTACK NOW!” Dalangpan’s voice thundered over the battlefield.
The four Great Warriors charged as one.
Blades bit into flesh, carving deep, merciless wounds. Warhammers crashed down, shattering bone with sickening force. Clubs smashed into muscle, pulverizing sinew beneath their relentless assault. Again and again, they struck—unstoppable, unyielding, merciless.
The Ignitaur reeled, its monstrous body convulsing as fresh wounds tore across its hide. It tried to fight back, to shake them off, but its movements grew sluggish. Blood poured from its ravaged body, pooling beneath it. Its strength—once overwhelming—was fading.
Then—
With one final, earth-shaking roar, the beast collapsed.
A thunderous boom echoed across the battlefield as its massive frame hit the ground, dust and debris billowing into the sky. For a moment, everything was still. No more thrashing. No more deafening roars.
The Ignitaur was dead.
The battle was over.
Their struggle—**their pain, their sacrifice, their relentless fight for survival—**had paid off.
Lakan swayed, his vision tunneling, before his body finally gave out. He collapsed, unconscious, the weight of exhaustion crushing him like an unseen force.
As the sun crept over the horizon, its golden light breaking through the fading night, a new day began.
They had survived.
The first day of the Monster Wave was over.