When the first of the Undead managed to push itself far enough through the thorny brambles Luna had conjured, there was a moment of hesitation. It was one thing to throw stones at the Undead or launch arrows their way, it was a completely different thing to step up and bodily bash an opponent that used to be human in the head. The degree of separation was lessened, making it far easier to see these monsters as broken humans, something that lingered deep in the back of some minds. To make oneself step up and strike to kill against a human target, especially one that was struggling and restrained as the Undaed was, it took deep conviction. Or fear, anger, or any of these emotions would do, too, the fight or flight reflex was a powerful thing, only that against these foes, it seemed to be much more weighted towards the ‘flight’ side of things.

Luckily, the moment of hesitation didn’t last too long and with a soft growl, maybe to push away the last remaining doubts, Sian stepped up, a staff raised above her head. Twisting her body in the blow, she brought down the staff, the force of the attack causing a whistling sound, only for the sound to cut off with a meaty chunk and a crunching sound. The Undead crumbled, still help in the vines, and stilled its movement, no longer a threat.

But it was only the first of many, maybe too many, even with the continued rain of projectiles from the archers and rock-throwers. Others stepped forward, too, taking the lives of a few more Undead, but the strain these bodies put on the conjured vines was not to be underestimated. Even with the Life Magic Luna was putting out, creating something akin to a zone of Rejuvenation around herself, the vines couldn’t last forever.

Soon, far too soon for the defenders’ taste, the vines crumbled, pressed to the ground by the weight of multiple Undead bodies and with that, the Undead could move past the blockade and actually start fighting back, instead of being forced to endure a rain of projectiles or being bound by the conjured vines. While the dead faces couldn’t show any emotions, the defenders could almost feel the bloodlust in the air, the dead wanted the pound of flesh they had been denied so far.

This time, they weren’t met by brave people, willing to take a stand for their homes. Instead, they were met with claw and fury, as the strongest of the defenders was no longer hampered by the same vines that held back the Undead. Instead, Silva, the powerful hound of Jade, left behind to protect her daughter, stepped forward. With a powerful growl, she rose from her usual four-legged gait, standing on two legs and towering above all, her front legs now turned into arms and tipped with vicious claws. A single swipe, and the first Undead was tossed back, towards its kin, as the hound stepped into the fray.

But a single powerful combatant, even one that can stand in the midst of battle like a rock in the sea, cannot hold back the tide. The tide will flow around the rock, and batter the shore until eventually the rock is washed away or the tide retreats, to try again another day. In this case, the Undead kept moving, despite the circle of blood, limbs and bodies strewn around Silva. They couldn’t defeat her, but they could bog her down, the Undead cared little for their continued existence and the Shattered commanding them even less.

Luckily, it wasn’t just Silva that was willing to step up. Using the cover the powerful hound provided, Sian stepped forward and expanded it. While she lacked the sheer power to carve through the Undead as Silva did, she had enough strength to push the Undead aside, allowing Silva to easily tear into them. That is not to say Sian didn’t destroy any Undead of her own, but she was smart enough to marshal her stamina, supporting the stronger fighter to allow her to bring even more of her strength to bear.

On the other side of the road, Lars stepped up. With a bellowing roar, he pulled up the road beneath, wrapping the asphalt around his arms, his torso and even his upper legs, giving himself a sturdy armour that added even more to his strength. Just the act alone was enough to send rivulets of sweat streaming down his face, but after the initial exertion, he seemed to settle down, using the armour economically instead of trying to throw around tons of rock and dirt. His armour did the fighting, allowing him to regain some of his strength even in the middle of combat.

Similarly, the rest of their people stepped forward, too. Those who lacked a good ranged weapon, those who hadn’t been able to bring down Undead from afar, they moved forward and followed Sian’s lead. Supporting the stronger fighters while making sure that the Undead couldn’t swarm them, or flow around them while staying out of their range to attack the ranged attackers further back.

Alas, when fighting in melee, especially in the chaotic conditions of the dark road with seemingly endless waves of enemies attacking, injuries were nearly unavoidable, even for seasoned fighters. Something the locals most definitely were not, they had the motivation, especially thanks to the blessing of Hecate that sheltered them from the worst of their fears and allowed them to stand up to their foes, but they simply didn’t have the experience. They took wounds, some deep scratches from the dirty claws of the Undead, others were struck with bone-rattling force or even bit.

Each scratch would slowly sap their strength, each wound take away a bit of their will, the pain clouding their minds and pushing their fears back to the forefront of their minds. But, even as they took their wounds, they could feel a pleasant sensation pushing into them from behind, akin to the gentle, soft rain of spring, or maybe a soothing song. The sensation came from Luna, who had called upon Hecate, combining the support from the Goddess with her own Life Magic to modulate the output and keep herself from harming anyone with her immature healing magic. What she was doing was neither true divine magic, nor was it normal arcane magic. It was a mixture of both, and all the more powerful for it. Where a wound would have lasted for weeks, it was gone in minutes, where fatigue would have built, it faded instead. All that, in exchange for Luna’s rapidly diminishing reserves of Astral Power and the Divine Power granted to her by the Lady Hecate.

Wave after wave of Undead fell upon the defenders, breaking against their stout defence. Some of the defenders were wounded beyond what Luna’s aura could easily replenish and had to be replaced but together, they held. They stood, strong and defiant, repelling the attackers as they came.

Until finally, the last Undead fell. But even with that, the battle wasn’t over. Instead, it entered its final phase, as the two Shattered, their eyes ablaze with blue fire, entered the fray. With strange, shambling strides, the two monsters covered far more distance than they should be able to, one aiming for Silva, the other aiming for Lars. In turn, both defenders stepped forward, shielding their comrades behind them. Silva let out one more howl, bolstering the spirits of the defenders for this final stand, spending the power she had accumulated over days and weeks of worship.

The four combatants met, snarling noises from Silva were countered with raspy growls from the Shattered. Silva and her foe clashed first, exchanging swipes with their claws and avoiding lunges that would have brought the battle to the ground. In comparison, Lars and his foe simply traded blows, the rocky shell around Lars absorbing the damage and even restructuring with asphalt and stone from the ground below when needed. Against most foes, the open parts of his armour would have spelled doom but against a mindless Shattered, what armour he had was sufficient.

Right after those first clashes, the rest of the defenders cautiously added their own attacks, the ranged attackers moving in an attempt to get clear lines of fire, so they wouldn’t, or couldn’t, hit their allies if they missed, the other melees trying to provide openings for those who could truly hurt these monsters.

The one fighting Lars was the first to fall, crumbling under repeated blows and with multiple arrows sticking from its body, falling just as Lars’ armour crumbled from his body, his Astral Power depleted. That victory opened up the field, allowing everyone to focus on that last Shattered, pushing the creature to its maximum until it, too, was felled, right as it lunged one more time to sink its teeth into Silva. The blow, unlikely as it might be, came from Sian, her simple staff cracking from the force, only for her to break it and jam the splintered end into the Shattered, sending it to its final rest.

The battle was over.