Spirit Game

Rain and the others charged, Balaur's eyes gleamed with a sinister light.

The god of war stood still, his towering frame radiating an almost palpable menace, as if daring them to strike first.

Rain was the first to reach him. He swung with all his might, aiming for the gaps in Balaur's scales. But with a swift motion, Balaur deflected the blow with his armored forearm, the clash ringing out like a hammer on steel.

Santi darted in next, her blades aiming low. Her strikes were precise, honed by years of battle, but Balaur simply stepped aside, his movements deceptively graceful for his massive size. A flick of his wrist sent Santi reeling, her balance disrupted by the sheer force of his counter.

Thorgar followed, his hammer crashing down with the power of a mountain, yet Balaur raised a single clawed hand to meet it. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, but Balaur barely flinched. With a growl, he lashed out, his tail whipping into Thorgar's side, sending the warrior skidding across the battlefield.

Helliana and Thraigar attacked together, their strikes a blur of motion, but it was like fighting a storm. Balaur's claws slashed through the air, forcing them to retreat before they could land a meaningful hit. His tail struck out again, narrowly missing Helliana but catching Thraigar, knocking him off his feet.

Rain's eyes were blazing, and he leaped back into the fray, and unleashed a flurry of strikes. Energy crackled around their combined form, each swing carrying the force of a tempest.

Balaur met each blow, parrying and striking back. Then, without warning, Balaur roared. The sound reverberated through the battlefield like a thunderclap. His eyes flared with fury, and in a single, devastating sweep of his arm, he sent all of them crashing to the ground.

It was like being hit by a hurricane. For a moment, the world spun, and the air was filled with the sound of gasping breaths and the scrape of armor on stone.

Rain groaned, forcing himself to stand. Blood trickled down his face, his grip tightened around his sword.

They weren't done yet.

Balaur remained unscathed, the god of war still looming over them like an indomitable force.

They were losing heart. The crushing weight of hopelessness pressed down on them, sinking deep into their bones as they watched Balaur stand untouched.

Every effort had been in vain — every attack, every desperate maneuver shattered like glass against the dragon's impenetrable armor.

The battlefield was littered with their fallen troops, and they were barely holding on.

For a moment, doubt crept in. Could they truly defeat him? Could anyone?

But amidst the chaos and despair, something deeper stirred. There was no giving up. No retreat. No escape. Their path had been sealed from here on out. Live or die, those were the only options left.

Rain gripped his sword tighter, ignoring the tremors in his hands, the searing pain in his muscles. They might be broken, battered, and outmatched, but they weren't defeated.

As long as breath filled their lungs, as long as their hearts still beat, they would fight. The battle wasn't over until the last of them fell.

Helliana's breath was shallow, her chest heaving as she tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled beneath the weight of her injuries.

Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage on her chest, the gash from Balaur's claws too deep for her body to withstand much longer. Her daggers lay just out of reach, her strength too drained to even stretch her fingers toward them.

Santi lay beside her, equally beaten. Her once-sharp gaze was dulled by pain, her sword still gripped tightly, though it barely seemed capable of rising again.

Balaur loomed over them, his hulking form unyielding, a god of war who had yet to be touched by their combined assault. His scales shimmered in the dim light, an impenetrable fortress of obsidian and fire.

The sky behind him seemed to darken as his presence swallowed the battlefield whole.

Across the scorched earth, Chick and Chill were motionless, their small forms battered and bruised, twitching as they tried to stand but could not.

The brave little creatures, whose speed and agility had carried them through countless battles, now lay broken beneath the god's might. Their usual fiery defiance had been extinguished, their tiny breaths the only proof they were still alive.

Nearby, Golly groaned as he pushed himself up from where he'd been flung across the field. His gun, capable of piercing through nearly anything, had proven useless.

The moment he'd fired it, Balaur had swatted the blast aside like it was a mere nuisance, sending Golly flying like a ragdoll.

He wiped the blood from his face, grimacing as he realized the futility of his weapon. He could do nothing but watch as the others continued their fight against a force beyond comprehension.

At the center of the carnage, Thraigar staggered, blood running down his side from a savage wound that cut deep into his flesh. His breathing was ragged, each inhale a struggle as he faced down Balaur, his sword shaking in his hand.

The god's fiery gaze was locked on him, its burning intensity enough to freeze anyone in their tracks. Thraigar knew he couldn't win, but still, he stood firm, refusing to back down.

Then Balaur lunged.

It was over in a blink. Thraigar's vision blurred as the god's claws shot toward him, death in their wake.

Just before they struck, a massive figure slammed into Balaur, intercepting the fatal blow.

Thorgar roared as he threw himself in front of his friend, his massive body absorbing the full brunt of Balaur's strike. The claws dug deep into Thorgar's chest, blood erupting from the wound as Balaur's sheer strength tore through him.

"THORGAR!" Thraigar screamed, his voice breaking.

Thorgar didn't flinch. His body trembled under the weight of Balaur's assault, but he stood firm, using the last of his strength to shield Thraigar from certain death.

His breathing was labored, blood pouring from the gaping wounds in his chest and arms, yet his eyes burned still with a grin on his face.