The soldiers scattered in every direction, their desperate attempts to stop Gorm proving futile.
The battlefield was in chaos, as Gorm adapted his tactics according to the situation. He was a force of nature, reading their movements and exploiting their weaknesses.
As the hunt dragged on, Gorm honed his strategies based on the soldiers' composition. When faced with many ranged attackers, he lured them into close quarters or areas dense with cover, nullifying their advantage.
When surrounded by melee fighters, he led them into confined spaces, where only a few could engage him at once. His mind was a cold, calculating engine of destruction.
Marks began appearing on the soldiers, faint glows that signaled their impending doom. Gorm was upon them in a flash, his spear cutting through their ranks like a scythe through wheat. He was unstoppable, a dark juggernaut of death and shadow — until one massive axe forced him back.
"Thraigar?" Rain gasped, breathless from the relentless pursuit of Gorm.
With a roar that echoed across the battlefield, Thraigar charged forward to confront the revenant. "RaArgh!"
Gorm was a towering figure in thick, black armor, his presence alone enough to intimidate. Yet Thraigar was no less formidable, his strength a match for the revenant's. Their clash was titanic, the air vibrating with the force of their blows.
Thraigar swung his hammer with brutal force, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. He flung Gorm's spear aside with a mighty sweep before planting a powerful kick into the revenant's chest.
Gorm was sent hurtling backward, but he was no ordinary foe; he thrust his spear into the ground to halt his momentum, barely keeping his balance.
He had no time to recover. In the blink of an eye, Helliana was upon him, her twin daggers gleaming as she darted toward him with deadly intent.
Thraigar bellowed a battle cry, his massive axe carving through the shadow creatures as he advanced, each swing leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
Rain was close behind, his sword aimed directly at the revenant's heart, determined to finish him off.
Santi, not far away, directed his spirit tiger and wolf to dive toward Gorm, their ethereal form a blur of motion.
Rain exhaled a brief sigh of relief, but it was short-lived; Gorm was on the move once again.
The revenant retaliated, engaging Santi's tiger with a ferocity that left no room for error. The summoned creature fought valiantly, its forms flickering as it clashed with the Revenant, while Chick, Chill, and their troops struggled to fend off the onslaught of dark creatures that swarmed the hall.
"I've got it!" Golly's voice suddenly cut through the chaos. "The mark only lasts for a minute! Hold out, and it'll disappear. It won't appear on the same person twice, so just hang in there!"
Relief washed over Rain, Santi, Thraigar, and Helliana. The knowledge that the mark's deadly grip was temporary eased the crushing weight of fear that had gripped them.
This curse of instant death had been a terrifying prospect, threatening to unravel their focus and resolve during battle.
"Avoid him for a minute!" Rain suggested, his voice steadier now, buoyed by Golly's revelation.
Having his secret exposed, Gorm let out a roar of fury that reverberated through the walls, shaking the very ground beneath them. His anger manifested in a terrifying display of power as he swung his spear with a force that seemed to split the air itself.
With a single, devastating strike, he shattered the spirit tiger into nothingness, its form dissolving into the ether with a faint growl.
Santi froze in place, her breath catching in her throat as she watched her spirit tiger dissolve into nothingness. Though she knew the spirits couldn't be truly killed, the loss was still a heavy blow.
Once a spirit was vanquished, it needed time to recover before it could be summoned again, leaving her vulnerable in the heat of battle.
Her heart pounded as she took stock of her remaining spirits. She was running dangerously low, and the realization hit her like a cold wave — if all her spirits were defeated, she would be left with no choice but to fight using a weapon, a prospect that filled her with dread.
Santi was skilled with a blade, but her true strength lay in the mystical bond she shared with her spirits, a bond that allowed her to command their powers.
Without them, she would be at a severe disadvantage, forced to engage in direct combat against an enemy far stronger and more ruthless than she could handle alone.
The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine, but she quickly shook it off. There was no time for fear, no room for hesitation. If she faltered now, it would mean the end for her and her clan.