Vortex Origins
Chapter 89: The Third creature wave - 7

Chapter 89: The Third creature wave - 7

A deep horn echoed across the field.

From the far ridge, the next wave came.

Grimhorns. Dozens—maybe hundreds. Charging through the broken terrain. Some bore axes, others swords. A few held crooked staffs that pulsed faintly, threads of corrupted magic dancing at their fingertips.

Their war cries tore through the silence.

Then—they slowed.

They saw it.

Bodies. Frozen and shattered. Their own kin, limbs twisted in unnatural ways. The front ranks stumbled, confused.

One of them raised a clawed hand, pointing upward.

The rest followed his gaze.

Kevin.

He hovered high above the battlefield, wings stretched wide. No emotion on his face. The wind coiled around him like a living thing.

The grimhorn archers drew their bows. Strings pulled tight.

Kevin blinked once.

Then—wind screamed.

The world stopped.

The arrows never flew. The entire army below was frozen in place, frost creeping across their skin, locking their limbs mid-movement.

From behind them, a volley of fire arrows cut through the air.

Kevin shifted. His wings flared once.

A dome of frost rose like a barrier, catching the flames mid-flight. They hissed out before touching him.

Then the frost cleared.

And he saw it.

A figure stepped onto the field.

Old. Dressed in gray. A hood pulled low. His steps slow, patient, like time itself had bent to his will.

Kevin’s eyes narrowed.

The old man looked up. Their gazes locked.

Something flickered in the man’s pupils—lightless, ancient.

Kevin’s breath caught.

His wings flickered. Then vanished.

The cold that once obeyed him vanished with it.

He fell.

Pain lanced through his spine.

Then—stone.

A massive hand caught him midair, the arm connected to a towering golem that had erupted from the ground.

Kevin clenched his jaw, chest heaving.

Behind him, Mia appeared on the golem’s shoulder.

"What happened?"

Kevin didn’t answer at first. He stepped to the edge of the golem’s arm, glaring toward the horizon where the army still marched.

Arrows flew. Spells flashed.

The golem raised its arm like a shield. Sparks and flames pelted its rocky skin.

Then more golems arrived—four of them—charging into the fray, fists smashing into the enemy ranks. Bones cracked. Screams rose.

Kevin exhaled.

His voice came low, bitter.

"Something broke. I don’t know how. My ability—it’s not responding. I can’t activate it. It’s like... something inside me cracked."

Mia stared at Kevin.

This wasn’t the same person she knew—the sharp, distant, cold-blooded fighter who never flinched. Now, there was something in his eyes she had never seen before.

Fear.

She stepped closer and grabbed his shoulders.

"Your power’s not gone. Check your soul space. Maybe something’s wrong in there."

Kevin closed his eyes.

Below, the battlefield shifted again. The legion of grimhorns pressed forward, spilling past the broken ranks, past the fallen, rushing the gate. The stone golems held the front line, fists crashing down like thunder, but it wasn’t enough.

Wind howled.

Alex stood at the front, arms raised. The gust burst forward, a wall of force that slammed into the approaching wave, throwing some of them back.

Then—he turned his head, eyes narrowing.

He moved quickly, rejoining Kaius and the rest of Team Galeforce where they fought in the chaos—clashing with undead, slicing through screaming grimhorns.

He didn’t say much. Just enough.

"You might want to look behind you. And... I’m sorry for your loss."

Kaius turned.

Then he saw them.

Three bodies. Twisted. Covered in blood.

Osric. Horthgar. Julia.

Hunter froze. His breath hitched. He pointed a shaking finger toward the fallen.

"See...? See what I mean?"

His voice cracked.

"We could’ve left! We should’ve left!"

Tears streamed down his cheeks, falling freely.

"They would still be alive!"

Kaius said nothing. He just stared, lips slightly parted, eyes locked on the scene.

Then his gaze shifted—further out, deeper into the battlefield.

"What the hell is that idiot doing..." he muttered.

Hunter and Liam turned to look.

Ash.

He was facing them alone.

Ash stood in the dust, both Black Knights closing in from either side. Their armor shimmered under the pale sky—dark plates, chipped in places, but thick like stone. The hilts of their blades pulsed faintly. They didn’t breathe. Didn’t speak.

They just moved.

"[Skill: Storm vein]"

"[Skill: Static surge]"

Ash surged forward, lightning cracking beneath his skin. Sparks danced at his fingertips, Static Surge pushing through every nerve. His Storm Vein hummed deep in his bones, a steady thrum like thunder rolling far away.

Then—

"[Skill: Phantom’s Stride]"

The world slowed.

Ash vanished.

He reappeared behind the right Knight, blade already swinging. The strike hit true—clean against the gap between the armor plates at the back of the neck. But it didn’t pierce.

The sword bounced.

The Knight didn’t flinch. It spun on its heel and brought its blade down. Ash twisted away, feet sliding across the ground, his body flickering with ghost-like speed.

The second Knight was already mid-air—its blade hurtling through the sky toward him.

Ash looked up.

Too late.

The sword stabbed into the ground just behind him—and the Knight appeared where it landed, already swinging.

Ash bent low, ducked under the edge of the black steel. His blade lashed out again, sparks flaring. This time at the thigh, aiming for the joints.

Another clang.

No damage.

Their armor wasn’t just thick—it was wrong. Heavy, sure, but it moved like flesh.

Ash barely parried another strike—this one a horizontal sweep that nearly took his head off. He leaned back, stepped sideways, then dashed past one of them. The wind howled in his ears.

He had the speed.

But they had teamwork.

The first Knight spun again, sword dragging behind it like a tail. The second one didn’t chase. It threw its weapon.

Ash sidestepped the sword.

The Knight appeared mid-swing.

Steel cracked into his shoulder.

Ash staggered, pain biting deep into his collar. He slashed upward in reflex, lightning energy trailing from the tip—but one Knight caught the attack on its blade, while the other slammed a kick straight into his side.

Ribs bent.

Ash flew.

His body crashed against the stone wall with a sickening thud, limbs flailing like a broken doll. Dust rose around him, thick and choking.

He didn’t get up.

Not right away.

The Black Knights turned. Still silent. Still watching.

Like predators that hadn’t finished eating yet.