Moments after Vivian's slaughter of the abomination, the vanguard marched forward to join the onslaught.
Led by the best of the best adventurers, their charge flew like a spearhead into enemy lines.
One Eye's hand rested on the hilt of a broad blade, worn and chipped from countless battles. A wide grin spread across his face as he brought the blade down on one of the creatures.
The blade felt no resistance and cleaved through flesh and bone in one swift motion. Black blood splattered across One Eye's huge figure.
He didn't evade it, but rather let the warm liquid cover him and trickle down in small drops.
His grin grew wider; every form of anxiety and fear had vanished under the thrill of slaughter. With brute force, he cleaved through another, decimating every approaching abomination with pure brutality.
The adventurers that surrounded him shivered slightly; looking at his bloodied physique and wide grin, they felt nothing but pity for the approaching horde.
If Vivian had been death's silent blade, then One Eye was its loud executioner.
He let out a hearty laugh and swung his blade once more.
Still in the heat of combat, a blur rushed past him.
Dark, long hair flowed with the wind, and blue-green eyes that seemed indifferent to the carnage.
Socrates rushed into the heart of the horde. He grasped the hilt of his thin longsword and drew it from its scabbard. A fine black blade that reflected the world like a mirror emerged.
He plunged it deep into the heart of a rushing mana beast, kicked off its body, and spun to end the life of another. His polished dark blade dripped with the defiled blood of the creatures.
Socrates didn't move with any fancy footwork, but he roamed the battlefield like a spectre of death itself.
Coming in at the last moment to save the adventurers who struggled with the creatures, he greatly reduced the pressure they faced.
He couldn't count the number of creatures that had fallen by his dark blade; their numbers didn't matter.
A soft sigh escaped his lips.
'Many had died, but more had to follow.'
He evaded the claw of a creature, deflected another with his blade, and brought the pommel down on its head.
Using the tiny bit of respite he had created for himself, he glanced at the Sword Saint.
The Sword Saint was the only one of them still positioned at the front of the vanguard; she didn't rush for the enemy but fought side-by-side with the ranks.
Her silver blade moved with amaranthine grace, a sword style that was both beautiful and deadly.
One of the large, ape-like creatures rushed towards her, its bulky arms raised high to crush its insignificant prey at once.
At the last moment, the prey it had aimed to kill vanished. An agonized roar tore through its throat; it watched its bulky arms fall to the floor, black blood oozing from its body.
But its agony didn't last long; a silver blade streaked through the air and ended its suffering.
The Sword Saint's task was the most taxing. Her remaining at the front of the vanguard wasn't a choice, but a necessity. Even as she felled creature after creature, her mind still had to be focused on the bigger picture.
One Eye and Socrates had been sent to relieve the pressure on Vivian and the defensive line.
If they fell, then the vanguard fell with them.
They also had to retain their strength; their current battle, as dire as it looked, wasn't the main threat but rather a battle of attrition.
The main threat was a battle that was yet to come. None of the War Grades had shown themselves, yet.
She looked around her; the adventurers still had high morale as they cut through the horde. The casualties they faced been kept to the bare minimum, but still the tortured wails of those that had fallen couldn't be erased…or ignored.
How would they be ten, twenty minutes from now... or even an hour from now?
No one knew when it would all end; she couldn't bask in the glory of the moment.
Not when the dread of a future confrontation gnawed at the back of her mind.
Her longsword cleaved through an abomination; she evaded another and threw a fist at its skull.
Her physical prowess was surprisingly shocking for someone who had such a slender physique, as the beast was hurled back.
She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead; her once-bright armor had been dulled by dark blood.
The adventurers were already getting tired.
The battle needed to end soon.
As if the heavens had decided to answer her prayers, an earth-shattering roar quaked the ground and cut through the air.
Both man and beast froze.
The Sword Saint's expression grew dark; she didn't know whether to celebrate or dread their arrival.
Deep into the horde, nature's warlords had finally arrived.