The thirty minutes before the Fourth Wave felt longer than the entire battle.
I sat atop Rusty with my eyes closed.
I handed my bow and quiver to a nearby archer. Inside the nest, close combat would decide life and death. Carrying the bow would only slow me down.
My fingers gripped the reins so tightly that my nails dug into my skin.
The heat inside my body refused to calm.
Slowly, the sounds around me faded.
The screams.
The fighting.
The clash of weapons.
Everything disappeared.
Only my heartbeat remained.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Then—
The horn sounded.
Our turn.
The Fourth Wave.
All fifty riders shouted at once.
I inhaled deeply.
Rusty sensed my command before I even moved the reins.
He surged forward.
My spear rested in my hand.
My sword hung at my waist.
Dark aura covered my body.
My eyes remained fixed ahead.
As we approached the nest, I could see riders in front of me falling. Some were struck by arrows. Others were dragged from their mounts.
But I couldn't stop.
The smell hit me before the battlefield became visible.
Rotting swamp water.
Burning wood.
Blood.
Burned flesh.
It smelled like a hundred-year-old corpse left inside the swamp.
Rusty entered the nest.
A lizardman with a spear rushed toward us.
Before I could move, Rusty lifted him with his horns and threw him aside.
An archer aimed directly at us.
He released his arrow.
Rusty moved sideways.
The arrow missed.
Before the archer could draw another, I reached him.
One swing.
His head separated from his body.
I saw him collapse.
But I didn't stop.
Another spear came toward Rusty.
Rusty's front claws slashed across the lizardman's chest.
At the same time, a sword-wielding lizardman attacked from my right.
I brought my spear downward.
The axe blade attached to it struck his sword.
The weapon shattered.
The blade continued through his shoulder and down his body.
He screamed.
Before he could fall completely, my spear pierced his heart.
Around me, the battle continued.
Aura knights fought near the mages.
Mercenaries died.
Lizardmen died.
I didn't know who lived.
I didn't know who had fallen.
I only moved.
Swing.
Step.
Breathe.
Watch.
Kill.
My sensory field remained active.
My grip never loosened.
Rusty continued moving without rest.
For a moment, I thought we might actually break through.
Then—
A horn sounded.
Not ours.
A lizardman horn.
One of our archers immediately shot the horn blower through the eye.
The lizardman collapsed.
But the damage had already been done.
At the far end of the nest, something began moving.
At first, I thought they were horses.
But they weren't.
Water lizards.
Large reptilian beasts with long bodies and powerful legs, perfectly adapted to the swamp.
Several lizardmen rode them.
One rider carried a spear or sword.
The other carried a bow.
Two warriors on one mount.
The moment they entered the battlefield, the situation changed.
Our horses had the advantage on solid ground.
But these creatures moved through the swamp as if they were born from it.
Even if a rider blocked the front attack, the archer behind could still kill him.
A deadly combination.
They charged.
Our formation broke apart.
There was no true formation to begin with.
The only rule inside the nest was simple:
Survive.
No one depended on anyone else.
Everyone fought for their own life.
Still, nobody retreated.
The mercenaries kept fighting.
The lizardmen kept advancing.
Then I saw the first rider die.
A mercenary on horseback lowered his spear and stabbed the front rider cleanly.
For a moment, it looked like victory.
Then—
An arrow pierced his throat.
He dropped his weapon.
His hands clawed at the arrow.
Blood poured from his mouth.
And he fell from his horse.
The water lizard kept running.
The dead rider's body disappeared beneath the mud.
And the battle only grew worse.