Soul Forging System

The midday sun blazed over the jagged cliffs, but its warmth could not reach the tension thick in the air. The Orcs had come in waves, their roars echoing like the distant rumble of thunder. Stephan crouched on the ground, his ossuary blade resting against his shoulder, black fire licking the edges. His breath was steady, his eyes tracking the Orcs as they fanned out below. He didn't need a death god mark, speed, precision, and sheer instinct were enough.

"Ready?" Yennefer's voice called out, calm but edged with deadly intent. She floated slightly above the ground, the grimoire hovering in front of her, green veins snaking outward like predatory roots. Her eyes glimmered with focus. "Lets clear them up real quick ."

Anna Mary adjusted her stance, hands crackling with Spartan magic, a sphere of blue and black energy forming around her palms. Grief mirrored Stephan's posture beside him, her spectral blade humming quietly, resonating with the same black fire energy. Death stood slightly apart, a shadow among shadows, fists glowing with violet soul energy, her form phasing in and out. At the far flank, Salimi's form shimmered in and out of visibility, illusions folding around her, while Gabuzar crouched low, his snake summon coiling beside him, eyes glittering with feral intelligence.

Above them, Belanor lounged atop his strings, arms folded over his chest, an almost lazy smirk on his face. He didn't move and he didn't need to. His amusement came from watching the chaos he had orchestrated, knowing full well that his pawns were expendable.

The first wave of Orcs surged forward, snarling, crude axes in hand. Stephan's blade flashed first, black fire streaking across the frontlines. A massive Orc's skull split neatly down the center, his scream cut off mid-roar. Grief followed, twin shadows of blue fire dancing in tandem, a whiplash of blades tearing through the next pair of Orcs before they could react.

"Over here!" Gabuzar hissed, and from the ground, the massive snake sprang forth, coiling around three Orcs at once, crushing and constricting with terrifying speed. The creatures' screams were cut short as the serpent's fangs struck with precision, injecting venom that left even the strongest Orcs staggering.

Yennefer's voice rose, chanting in an ancient tongue. The grimoire's green veins shot into the earth, piercing up like jagged steel, wrapping around legs, arms, and torsos, binding Orcs in place. Their struggling only strengthened the roots' grip, forcing them to the ground. "Soul binding bloom!" she hissed. The veins writhed, glowing faintly with necrotic energy, and the Orcs' movements slowed, their eyes widening in terror as their life force began to pulse visibly along the green tendrils.

Death moved like a whisper, her form dissolving into the shadows and reappearing behind a charging Orc. Her fists passed through him, violet energy cascading through his body, leaving only hollow shells and shivering remnants of life. Each strike she landed was a ghostly nightmare; the Orcs could not even defend themselves.

Salimi's illusions began their subtle dance, appearing and disappearing among the Orcs, echoing sounds of attacks that didn't come, phantom figures drawing blows that were never real. Orcs stumbled and collided with each other, panic infecting their I'm ranks. One moment, a figure lunged at an illusion, only to vanish into nothing. The next, another Orc screamed as he realized his comrades had turned on him, illusions twisting their perception, making every corner a trap.

Anna Mary's Spartan magic flared as golden shields sprouted around her, each orb radiating destructive energy. With a focused thrust, waves of concentrated force rippled out, blasting through Orc lines like a tidal wave. Some Orcs were flung backward, others torn apart at the seams as magic and raw strength collided in violent harmony.

The battlefield became a symphony of destruction. Stephan darted between the surviving Orcs, black flames trailing his movements like a storm, every slash leaving searing pain in its wake. Grief mirrored him flawlessly, twin shadows moving in perfect synchronization, each strike a blend of fluidity and lethal intent. Their speed made it impossible for the Orcs to form any coherent defense; attacks came from all directions, instantaneous, inhuman.

Gabuzar's snake reared, fangs dripping venom, as it lashed out at a group of Orcs attempting to flank their position. Its movements were precise, calculated, yet vicious, crushing bones and ending lives without mercy. Salimi's illusions multiplied, entire squads mistaking phantom enemies for real threats, tearing each other apart in confusion.

Death was everywhere and nowhere, phasing through walls of bodies, her violet energy leaving trails of despair. A single Orc attempted a desperate charge, only to find himself suddenly inside her fist, violet energy coursing through him as he crumpled to the ground, unseeing.

Yennefer's grimoire pulses intensified. The green veins surged, lifting Orcs off the ground as if they were puppets, their screams harmonizing in a discordant symphony that only fueled her necromantic artistry. The technique reached its crescendo, the roots tightening, draining strength, binding flesh to earth, leaving them broken and immobile.

Belanor's laughter echoed down from the cliff, smooth and detached, the sound of a predator observing a kill. "Pathetic," he murmured, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "All that energy for scraps. I hoped for at least some challenge." He leaned back, unbothered, untouched.

By now, the Orcs were in disarray, bodies scattered, some burned, some impaled, others simply gone, reduced to nothing by Death's spectral strikes. Stephan and Grief moved as a pair, finishing the last resistors with deadly efficiency, black flames scorching the final few alive. Gabuzar's serpent coiled around two remaining Orcs, crushing with lethal precision, while Salimi's illusions led the last Orcs into collisions with one another and into Yennefer's ensnaring roots.

When the smoke cleared, the battlefield was eerily silent except for the hiss of the snake, the faint crackle of dying embers, and the rustle of green veins receding into the earth. The Orcs were wiped out entirely, their bodies either reduced to ash, twisted in death, or bound immobile until the energy drained them into oblivion.

Only Belanor remained, perched above it all like a dark god of amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. Stephan sheathed his blade, black fire dissipating with a faint sizzle. Grief mirrored the motion, the twin blades dimming. Yennefer's grimoire hovered silently at her side, the green veins retracting into its cover, drained of energy but intact. Anna Mary's blue magic slowly folded back into her palms, her breathing steady, but her gaze fixed upward.

Death stood silently, fists no longer glowing, as if the battlefield itself knew it had survived the carnage. Salimi faded out of the shadows, illusions evaporating like morning mist. Gabuzar's serpent slithered back to his side, eyes fixed on Belanor, a low hiss vibrating from its throat.

Stephan wiped a smear of ash from his blade, looking up. "He's enjoying this far too much," he muttered.

Yennefer's lips curved in a tight smile. "Let him. He hasn't fought yet. Not truly."

Anna Mary's energy sparkled faintly in response, a silent agreement. Even though the Orcs were gone, the real game was just beginning. Belanor remained untouched, untested, and for the first time, the hunters realized the scale of the challenge that awaited them.

The wind carried his laughter down, teasing and mocking, yet beneath it, there was a promise: Belanor would fight, and when he did, the true horror of the battle would be revealed. But for now… victory was theirs, messy and bloody, yet undeniable.

The battlefield was theirs, if only for a moment. And even as they caught their breath, every one of them knew it wouldn't last.

Belanor's gaze swept across the field once more, sharp and calculating. "Well done," he said casually, almost to himself. "But it was merely practice."

Stephan clenched his fist, black fire flickering faintly along his knuckles. "Then come at us," he said, voice low, eyes never leaving Belanor.

The others nodded in agreement. Death's violet aura flared faintly, Yennefer's green veins pulsed, and Anna Mary's Spartan magic shimmered. Gabuzar's serpent hissed, ready, while Salimi's illusions flitted around the perimeter.

All of them, poised, waiting.

Above them, Belanor slowly raised his arms into a T-pose, his blue eyes shimmering with lethal intensity. Every movement radiated power, and the air itself seemed to pulse in anticipation.

"Brace yourselves," he said, his voice calm but threaded with deadly menace. "I'm going to shred you to pieces."

A low rumble began beneath their feet. Stephan's hair lifted with static energy, black fire flickering along his blade. Grief mirrored his stance, spectral blade at the ready, muscles coiled. Anna Mary's hands glowed with Spartan magic, Yennefer's grimoire floated, green veins writhing impatiently, while Death and Salimi shifted silently, senses straining. Gabuzar's serpent hissed, tail coiling defensively.

Belanor's grin widened. "Thread coffin."

The ground split open with a deafening crack, fissures racing outward like jagged scars across the battlefield. Dust and rock erupted in clouds, sending Orc remnants and debris skittering. The earth itself seemed alive, twisting and buckling, reshaping the terrain into a labyrinth of deadly chasms.

The hunters jumped back, narrowly avoiding jagged stone that erupted beneath them. Every eye was fixed upward, every muscle tensed. Belanor hung in the air above the chaos, calm, almost casual, but the violent energy radiating from him promised only one truth: the real battle was beginning, and the world itself would bend to his will.