Meanwhile, in a ruined city in the distance, overtaken by nature, crumbling buildings were covered in thick vines, and roots burst through the cracked concrete streets, twisting and curling around the remains of what was once a metropolis.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and the distant roars of monsters echoed through the ruins.
Amongst the ruins, the Berserkers moved like a force of nature, their clashes causing massive booms in the distance.
They were carrying out their raid, cutting through hordes of evil dryads with unimaginable speed, as if they had done this thousands of times before.
These dryads, twisted by dark magic, lashed out with thorn-covered vines and root attacks, their eyes glowing with a bright green light.
A massive vine shot forward, aiming to impale one of the Berserkers, but a silver-haired woman sped into view, intercepting the attack with a powerful punch. The vine exploded into splinters, unable to withstand the force behind the strike.
“Ha! Is that all you got?!”
A man roared, his red eyes gleaming with excitement. His wild silver hair swayed in the wind as he stood tall, clad in a massive set of punching gauntlets that seemed to vibrate with his red mana. This was Halzor, the group’s ‘challenger,’ always ready to dive headfirst into any battle.
“Come on, you overgrown weeds! Give me something to break!”
He launched himself into the thick of the dryads, slamming his gauntlets together with a sound like thunder. He cracked his knuckles and grinned madly, eager for the next hit.
Nearby, the ground trembled, and metal shards erupted from the earth, spiraling upward before condensing into a massive, gleaming sword.
It hovered in the air for a moment, then began to spin before being shot forward one by one like massive bullets.
The sword easily cleaved through a group of dryads that had been closing in on Halzor.
“You’re too noisy, Halzor,” a cold female voice said. Floating above the battlefield, her silver armor glinting softly under the moonlight, was Maila, known to many as the War Goddess.
Not just because of her silver hair, deep blue eyes, and silver armor, but for the commanding air she had about her as she hovered in the air, gazing down with a cold, detached expression, like a goddess looking down on mortals from above.
Telekinesis wasn’t her talent, as many seemed to assume. In actuality, it was absolute metal control, SS rank.
“I don’t need to hear your chatter to know you’re doing your job. Just don’t get in my way,” Maila spoke up again as she directed her metal constructs to pull from the dead dryads and head to deal with the next.
The blades whirled around her, cutting down dryads ruthlessly as she hovered effortlessly in the air.
On the other side of the battlefield, another dryad lashed out, its vine speeding towards Halzor from his blind spot. But before it could reach him, a massive, muscular figure moved into view, intercepting the attack with a shield made of what seemed to be solid stone. The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, but the man didn’t even flinch.
“Halzor, you always rush in like an idiot!” he scolded, his deep voice echoing over the ruined city. He had a stoic expression, his bald head gleaming, and his skin was as tough as the earth itself, almost like living rock. This was Grimm, the team’s shield, well known as ‘Stone.’
“Watch yourself next time,” Grimm spoke again as he raised his stone shield to block another incoming attack. “I can’t always be bailing you out.”
“Relax, Grimm! I had it under control!” Halzor replied with a grin, even as he ducked under another vine and landed a punch that sent a dryad flying.
Above them, in a tangle of vines and leaves, a shadow darted through the air, moving gracefully like a cat.
Landing on a nearby crumbling wall, the woman observed the battlefield, narrowing her eyes. She was covered in a black cloak that allowed her to blend into the shadows of the night.
Without a word, she unsheathed a pair of twin daggers, their blades gleaming ominously, and vanished again, only to reappear behind a group of dryads, slicing through the creatures with swift vertical arcs.
“Too slow…” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. This was Nyra, the team’s assassin, known for her silent but deadly approach.
She rarely spoke, but when she did, it was always with a touch of annoyance for anything that slowed her down.
As the battle raged on, a dryad managed to break through the front line, lunging toward Maila with thorned vines. But before it could reach her, a powerful kick from a massive boot sent the creature flying back into the fray, smashing through a half-collapsed building.
“That one was too easy! Let me know if something bigger shows up!” a cheerful voice boomed. The kick had come from a towering man, his frame bulky with muscle, his skin a deep, earthy brown, and his hair a wild mane of black. This was Thorin, the team’s powerhouse, whose sheer strength made him a one-man wrecking crew.
Thorin was always up for a challenge, just like Halzor; their type was common among the Berserkers.
“Maila, you really need to leave the small fry to me,” he added with a wink as he cracked his knuckles, ready for the next target.
Maila merely gave him a cold gaze before returning her focus to the battlefield, her metal blades cutting down more dryads.
Standing apart from the action, leaning casually against the ruins of an old fountain, was the team’s healer. Her black hair flowed down her back, and her red eyes, so similar to Halzor’s, were half-open in boredom.
She watched the battle with little interest, her attention more focused on the holographic screen she held, streaming the ongoing Wasteland Display Event.
“Idiots…” she muttered, not even glancing up as another dryad was obliterated by one of Thorin’s kicks. Her name was Ivy, and she was the group’s healer.
But unlike most healers, Ivy didn’t fuss over her teammates or rush to help them. Instead, she only intervened when absolutely necessary, like when it was confirmed they couldn’t just walk
it off.
She always had this nonchalant air about her, as if the world around her didn’t matter.
“He’s interesting.”
Ivy commented, sounding indifferent as she watched the feed, her eyes fixed on Alister.
The rest of the team might have been knee-deep in battle, but Ivy’s mind was elsewhere, focused on the enigma that was the White Comets’ summoner.
“I wonder if he lets others ride on them too… I’m curious how something like that would feel
like.”