Spear blades clashed against bone blades, erupting in a series of piercing echoes.
Skala's footsteps were as steady as a rock; he spun his blade's back, pressing the pouncing hunter into the snow and using the hilt to knock him unconscious.
"Next wave!" Gollon roared, lifting his battle-axe to flip another troll, then elbowing the back of his neck.
"We can't hold back anymore, they're here to kill us!"
"No!" Siye's voice came from the flank, her bowstring vibrating as she loosed three arrows, striking down the charging enemies, avoiding vital points, "They are being controlled; if we kill them, they truly won't come back!"
She moved agilely, weaving through the chaotic battle, using her keen observation and intuition to move along the edge of the charge line, precisely shooting at the enemies' limb joints to intercept but not kill.
"We're not the only ones fighting!" Skala calmly reminded him, "There are five others awakened by the Divine Emblem."
Just behind him, several trolls, clear-headed but exhausted, were confronting the surging tide of their brethren.
Their movements varied, their expressions hesitant, looking as if they hadn't fully escaped the dream, but the Divine Emblem's light supported their will like a spark.
Yet, even so, the disparity in numbers between friend and foe was still vast.
There were nearly twenty more trolls who hadn't lost their combat ability, all of them controlled puppets, moving in unison, perfectly coordinated, attacking viciously, neither dodging nor evading, like perfectly operating war machines.
On their side, only the trolls with firm faith had relatively complete combat ability.
Skala understood that if they dragged this out, they would inevitably fail.
Tuke had endowed those "controlled ones" with extremely pure logic and purpose, while the awakened ones still had to bear emotions, morality, and responsibility.
Every knockdown required extreme caution, every block needed controlled force.
From the very beginning of this battle, they had been running a race burdened with a thousand pounds.
"Siye! Flank left, protect the rear!"
"Gollon! Cut off that Dash line within three breaths!"
"Everyone else! Hold the line, don't let them get another step closer!"
Skala fought and issued commands simultaneously.
His commands were short, fast, and precise.
Under his coordination, this fragmented team actually managed to survive three charges, establishing their own battle line.
But this was as far as they could go.
"We're almost out of strength!" Gollon growled, his hands already covered in scratches, "One more time, and Siye definitely won't hold up!"
"I'm fine!" Siye retorted, gritting her teeth, but her voice was already a little shaky.
Skala's left arm was numb, and the Divine Emblem on his chest was so hot it felt like it would burn through his skin.
He knew that one more time, and they would be overwhelmed.
Then, an extremely sharp dragon's roar tore through the night sky.
Wind swept down from the clouds, carrying the sonic boom generated by massive wings beating.
A dark silhouette descended from the sky, overturning the foremost enemy ranks, sweeping them into the snow like fallen leaves.
"What is that—"
"In the sky?! What is that?"
"A Proto-Dragon…"
Skala looked up and saw a familiar figure landing nearby, its ice-blue scales glinting between the firelight and moonlight; it was the Proto-Dragon he had once hunted alongside.
A flicker of determination crossed his eyes as he shouted, "Reinforcements are here!"
Two other massive dragon silhouettes followed closely, landing one to the left and one to the right; the snow collapsed, and the wind howled deafeningly.
These two dragons were clearly younger, but they were also adult individuals, and upon landing, they simultaneously let out deep dragon roars, announcing their presence.
They wore the same Divine Emblems around their necks, radiating a warm glow that shimmered in unison with the Divine Emblems carried by the trolls.
"W-what's happening… even Primordial Dragons—"
"My Lord… are there even Proto-Dragon believers?"
The trolls who had broken free from control wept with joy, their taut nerves suddenly relaxing, with one even collapsing to the ground.
On the other hand, those trolls who were still puppets fell into chaos.
Their cognitive systems seemed not to have programmed this "plot," and for a moment, they froze due to "missing instructions."
Tuke fell silent.
Deep within his palace of consciousness, that stage was collapsing; there were no paths to the next script node, and those originally self-consistent logics now found no way out, only endlessly repeating, idling, and locking up.
His original script had been disfigured by Skala's "uncontrollable" actions, and although it might have barely continued after some patching, the arrival of the Proto-Dragons completely destroyed everything.
This was a desecration.
Not against "him," but against the order of the narrative itself.
At this point, the script could no longer continue.
Tuke stalled for a while before resuming work.
"The script cannot be interfered with; the prophecy must be fulfilled."
A whisper echoed deep within Tuke's consciousness, like fingernails scraping a blackboard.
Receiving the command, he raised his hand and issued new instructions to the still-controlled trolls.
This time, the goal was no longer to try and subdue Skala.
But "the final instruction."
The next moment, Skala sensed something was wrong.
The enemies' movements had changed.
They were no longer just charging, obstructing, or trying to subdue.
They began to "pull people," dragging their fallen comrades to the perimeter, forming an encirclement.
"Are they giving up?" Gollon frowned, "I don't understand…"
Skala's gaze darkened as he realized the mastermind's intention: "They want to take hostages."
Siye shot an arrow, pinning it into a drag-puller's calf, but the latter showed no reaction, forcefully pulling up the young hunter who had already been knocked unconscious.
"They want to use these believers—to threaten us."
"This is the final act," Skala said softly, gripping his bone blade, "He wants to end this play."
"Then we must seize a good ending," Gollon said in a low voice, blood trickling from his temple but not obscuring the fighting spirit in his eyes.
Behind them, the three Proto-Dragons had already launched a new round of attacks.
Shadow Wing roared as he pounced towards the edge of the enemy formation, skillfully using his strength to send a group of controllers flying, his tail flipping over and directly rendering two controlled trolls unconscious.
Although the two younger Proto-Dragons were still inexperienced, their movements were swift, adept at surprise attacks and dividing the enemy formation.
They were like sharp arrows in the snow, continuously breaking through the enemy's encirclement, trying to knock out the controlled trolls one by one.
But their control over force was clearly poor; Skala saw several trolls sent flying dozens of meters, their fates unknown.
"Prioritize rescue!" Skala roared, "Don't let them die under enemy control!"
Siye was about to say something, but wisely chose to remain silent, instead using her own methods to rescue others.
Gollon, meanwhile, did not respond; he had already charged forward, bumping with his shoulder to snatch back an unconscious shaman apprentice.
However, the next moment—the air vibrated.
It wasn't from a Proto-Dragon's roar, but…
Toka's voice.
He stood on a raised stone platform, a strangely calm arc curving at the corner of his mouth, his hands spread open as if welcoming some sacred arrival.
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