Night of Carnage

The leader, known as Barnabus the Slayer, looked up, his face partially illuminated by the dim light.

He was a brutish man, with a face scarred from countless battles, and his eyes glinted with a savage hunger.

He was sitting on the stomach of a massive, dead mystic beast, its blood pooling around him and staining the ground.

In his hand, he held a large drumstick, torn from the beast's carcass, blood dripping from it as he took a ravenous bite.

Barnabus tore into the meat with a feral intensity, his teeth sinking into the flesh as blood smeared across his mouth.

He chewed slowly, savoring the taste, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and malice.

He exuded an aura of raw power and unrestrained brutality.

"Prepare," he growled, his voice deep and resonant, filled with a dark promise.

"It's time to take revenge. I, Barnabus the Slayer, will show them all."

His declaration was met with a chorus of dark murmurs and the sound of weapons being readied.

His followers moved with practiced efficiency, their movements precise and deadly.

They had waited a long time for this moment, and now the time had come to unleash their fury.

"We shall start with the small towns around here," Barnabus spoke to his two lieutenants, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent.

"These towns are not under any of the great families but are directly under the Evergreen family."

His expression turned even more menacing, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he continued,

"The two of you will take half of our men each. One will move to one town, and the other to another. I and a few men will move to the town below us."

His lieutenants nodded, their faces set with grim determination.

They understood the gravity of the task ahead and were ready to carry out Barnabus's orders without question.

"Move now," Barnabus commanded, his voice cutting through the night like a blade.

The scene shifted into a flurry of movement. His followers, clad in dark robes and armor, began dispersing into different directions.

The forest floor echoed with the sound of their footsteps, weapons clinking as they prepared for the impending assault.

They moved swiftly and silently, their figures blending seamlessly into the shadows.

 As his men dispersed, he exuded a dark red aura, a manifestation of his malevolent power.

With a final, ominous glance around the clearing, Barnabus turned and began his descent towards the town below.

In the town below...

In one of the cozy abodes of Mossy Hollow, a woman's voice echoed with excitement.

"I'm happy he is finally meeting people and making friends, and he will be attending the academy soon," Marina said, her face lighting up with joy as her shadow slowly gave way to reveal her smiling self.

"Yes, Marina, Oasis has grown stronger," another figure responded.

They were sitting at the dining table, a warm, familial atmosphere enveloping the room.

"Thank you, Sir Elias, for taking care of him. I can't wait to see him," Marina answered, her eyes shimmering with anticipation.

"Yeah, you will see him soon. We will depart to Lunalith tomorrow," Sir Elias replied, taking a sip of the herbal tea in front of him.

Meanwhile, outside at the town gate, a guard yawned, stretching his arms and muttering to himself,

"Damn, I'm tired already."

He squinted into the distance, trying to make out the figures approaching.

"Oh, what is that?" he wondered, his eyes widening as the silhouettes became clearer.

"Give me that," Barnabus ordered, his voice like gravel. One of his henchmen handed him a spear without hesitation.

Barnabus gripped the spear, channeling his dark mana into it, his eyes locking onto the distant figure of the guard.

"Take this," he snarled, hurling the spear with terrifying force.

The guard at the gate barely had time to react.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, his heart pounding as he saw the spear hurtling towards him.

The spear struck him between the eyes with a sickening thud, his body lifted off the ground and pinned to the wooden gate.

Blood dripped down, painting the gate in a gruesome red.

"What's that aura? The bloodlust is too much," Lancelot muttered, jolting awake in one of the inns.

He felt the oppressive weight of malevolence in the air and quickly donned his cloak, his face set with determination.

Sir Elias, too, felt the bloodlust from Marina's abode, his expression hardening as he sensed the imminent threat.

Mossy Hollow guards scrambled, their faces pale with fear and urgency.

"Sound the alarm! We're under attack!" one of the guards shouted, his voice breaking the night's silence.

They moved quickly, weapons drawn, their expressions a mix of determination and dread.

Barnabus and his henchmen stormed into the town, unleashing carnage.

Barnabus himself tore through the guards with his bare hands, his strength overwhelming.

"Don't leave even an ant alive," he commanded, his voice a dark growl.

The night was filled with screams and the sounds of battle, blood and agony painting a horrific picture.

"Earth Magic: Hailing Spears!" Lancelot roared, his magic manifesting as rotating spears of rock that pierced through Barnabus's henchmen with brutal efficiency.

The scene was a bloody mess, bodies impaled and writhing in their final moments.

Barnabus watched with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

"An ant trying to fight a dragon? Futile," he mocked, his expression one of condescending amusement as he observed Lancelot's efforts.

His aura flared, a dark, oppressive force that seemed to suck the very light from the air around him.

Barnabus turned his gaze towards Lancelot, who stood firm despite the overwhelming odds.

"I see you sent others of your men to kill my scattered men. Smart move," Barnabus acknowledged, "but it is futile."

Lancelot killed the last of Barnabus's henchmen in the vicinity.

Breathing heavily, he turned his full attention to Barnabus, his determination unwavering.

Lancelot propelled himself towards Barnabus using his earth magic, his body moving like a missile through the air.

The ground beneath him cracked and trembled, propelled by the immense force of his magic. Dust and debris flew in all directions as he surged forward.

"Die!!!" Lancelot roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield.

He held his grimoire tightly, its pages glowing with an intense light.

As he neared Barnabus, he unleashed his most powerful spell. "Bloodstone's Resolve: Goliath's Fist!"