As they watched Sinclair's relentless advance, Rose found herself deeply reflecting on the stark power differences within their group. To her, he seemed to exist in a realm of his own, a warrior whose strength and ferocity far surpassed those around him. As she observed him, a thoughtful expression clouded her face, her eyes tinged with a mix of admiration and concern. She pondered whether he ever felt isolated in his struggles, surrounded yet alone in his extraordinary capabilities. Deep down, she knew the answer – of course, he did. It was evident in his every action, in the way he moved and fought. His nature to shoulder the burdens of others, often to his detriment, was clear in his current frenzied state.

"Well, I guess he has some stuff to work through," Rose remarked, trying to find some lightness in the situation. "At least our return will be uneventful for us. I just hate that he's hogging all that experience, especially when he probably isn't benefiting from half of it or more."

Ed, watching Sinclair's display of power, "Yeah, but look at him go. I want to be that strong when I grow up." His joke a play on the old saying about adulthood and the uncertainty of one's future.

Victoria, however, couldn't conceal her worry. Her expression was one of genuine concern as she spoke. "Is no one else worried about him? I feel like he might have cracked a little. Look at him!" Her eyes were fixed on Sinclair, highlighting the fine line between strength and vulnerability that he was treading.

"You know as well as we do, he's no danger to us. He's carrying a huge burden, and if you'd seen what was on the other side of that ridge, you might need to vent too." Alice scanned the faces of her companions, her expression serious. "There were tens of thousands of monsters over there. Now we know where all the beasts from this side and the surrounding area have gone. They're staging over there. What we've seen here is just their overflow." She paused to let her words settle. "And that valley stretched far, leading away from here. Imagine how many more are out that way and what it means for the people in their path. He feels the guilt of not being able to help them."

Victoria shifted her focus, her concern tempered with frustration. "That idiot is, isn't he? I knew he had a savior complex in games, but I didn't think it was this bad."

Rose added her perspective. "The System, and Odin too, set him on this path. It matches who he is. He'll risk everything, even his life, to save these people." She looked at the group, her voice firm. "The best thing we can do is get stronger and support him, so he doesn't have to do it alone."

Ed chimed in with a grin. "He's a big dummy sometimes. But he's our dummy." His lighthearted comment got the chuckle he was after. "Speaking of which, we're getting left behind. Looks like we're almost there, so we might as well jump in, right? I'm tired of him hogging all the fun."

"Sounds good to me," Rose said, a faint smile breaking through. "Let's take the right flank from him when we get to the big opening. Come on, bear boy, get up there."

She gave Ed a playful smack on the shoulder. With a roll of his eyes and a snort of mock annoyance, Ed shifted into his bear form. The transformation was swift and seamless, his massive form surging forward. Muscles rippled beneath his fur as he thundered through the forest, the ground trembling faintly under his powerful strides. He closed the distance quickly, eager to rejoin Sinclair and take his place in the fight.

Upon reaching the opening, the scene that unfolded was one of utter chaos. Monsters swarmed around the walls, densely packed and teetering on the brink of spilling over the edge. Sinclair and his two wolf companions had veered left, as Rose had anticipated. She led her team to the right, flanking the horde. Their approach was cautious, aiming to draw away just enough monsters to alleviate the pressure on the main group and to gain experience without overwhelming themselves.

As they engaged in battle, Rose couldn't help but think about Sinclair's tendency to dominate the field. He was, in her eyes, an experience hog, capable of decimating the enemy ranks before anyone else had the chance. Their strategy now was not just about survival or aiding Sinclair; it was also a race to gain experience before he could single-handedly wipe out the entire horde.

*****

General Valthorn stood alongside Captain Hawkins on the ramparts, their figures silhouetted against the early morning sky. The first rays of sunlight barely illuminated the daunting sight before them. A vast sea of monsters, their forms dark and menacing, stretched out as far as the eye could see, a grim testament to the escalating threat they faced. Sinclair and his team had departed the previous day to investigate these creatures, but their absence had done nothing to stem the tide at the wall.

"Hard on the morale to see an endless sea of monsters," General Valthorn remarked, his voice tinged with concern. He gazed out at the horde, his expression a mix of resolve and apprehension. "How are your people holding up?"

Captain Hawkins, his eyes scanning the ramparts with the vigilance of a seasoned leader, responded. "They're managing fine now, thanks to the ability to rotate in fresh troops." He had been up all night making sure there were no breaches. Struggling to stifle a yawn, he continued. "The experience gained is a boon, too. Almost all of our people have hit level 25 and have been using the evolution baths your people set up. Thanks for that, by the way."

He glanced towards the baths, a series of large, enclosed structures where soldiers underwent significant enhancements. "Your foresight in setting those up has been invaluable." He then grimaced slightly, "I shudder to think of being cooped up behind these walls with that stench lingering around. It might be worse than facing the monsters head-on."

General Valthorn nodded in agreement, understanding that sentiment completely. "The stench can be overwhelming." He too looked towards the evolution baths, appreciating their importance in strengthening their defenses. "It's heartening to see your troops gaining strength." His gaze returned to the monstrous horde, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Our average level has risen to 28, but we need to reach the mid-30s to comfortably hold this wall indefinitely." He paused, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of their situation. "Unfortunately, that only holds if the enemy doesn't adapt or experience sudden growth in strength." The potential for such a scenario weighed heavily on both their minds.

Captain Hawkins managed a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Yeah, I reckon it's not very common for them to stick to a plan, huh?"

General Valthorn, whose face bore the marks of many battles, let out a chuffing sound that could only be interpreted as a laugh. It was a rare moment of levity from the general, whose usual demeanor was stern and focused. "That is correct. The enemy rarely likes to follow your plan," he agreed. He gazed out at the sprawling mass of monsters, a thoughtful expression on his face, acknowledging the unpredictable nature of their foe.

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Captain Hawkins then shifted the topic slightly, his concern evident in the slight furrow of his brow. "Any idea when Lord Hagerson and the others will return?" His eyes scanned the horizon as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the returning party.

General Valthorn pondered for a moment before responding. His eyes, reflective and distant, seemed to search the horizon for an answer. "I would assume today. He has a knack for finding trouble, so his prolonged absence likely means he's stumbled upon something significant." There was a hint of respect in his voice for Lord Hagerson.

Captain Hawkins, his curiosity piqued by the general's response, speculated further, his gaze still fixed on the sprawling wilderness beyond the walls. "I wonder if he's with the wolves of the forest out there?"

General Valthorn raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued by the notion. "Wolves? I haven't seen any reports of nearby packs. But indeed, they would be a formidable asset." His voice carried a mix of surprise and interest at the possibility of such powerful allies. He turned slightly to face Captain Hawkins. "They're known to respond to his call," he added, contemplating the legendary prowess of the wolves in their world.

Leaning slightly on the ramparts, he clarified his earlier comment. The wind gently ruffled his hair as he spoke, "Oh, there aren't any, to my knowledge. But there was a brief lull just a few seconds ago, and I thought I heard a howl." His eyes scanned the horizon as if trying to catch another hint of the distant sound that had sparked his curiosity.

General Valthorn's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze drifting towards the distant forest where the sound might have originated. "Ah, that likely means he's returning sooner rather than later." His tone was contemplative as he considered the implications of such a signal. "And if he's calling out, he's either bringing trouble or having fun. With him, it's hard to tell which." A faint smile crossed his face. That man certainly knows how to find both.

Captain Hawkins, still gazing outwards, reflecting on Sinclair's demeanor, turned back to face General Valthorn. "He does seem a bit battle-mad. Is that normal for people from your world?" His question was genuine, seeking to understand the nature of their ally in this strange and perilous world.

General Valthorn gave Captain Hawkins a questioning look, one that subtly reminded the captain of their different origins. "He is from your world, not mine. He's been in the system only slightly longer than you." His voice carried a hint of correction, gently steering Hawkins to the right understanding. "It's his lineage and personal path that shape him. He was quite literally born for this." The general's expression turned more serious as he delved into the deeper aspects of Sinclair's character. "And, according to our history, all the Wolf Lords were a bit battle-mad as you say." Painting Sinclair as a figure of significant importance and lineage, a man whose destiny was intertwined with the legacy of legendary warriors.

He absorbed this new information with a mix of respect and awe. "That is truly impressive. I'm glad he's on our side." His voice carried a genuine admiration, reflecting the high regard in which he held Sinclair.

General Valthorn, his gaze still fixed on the distant battlefield, offered a clarification, his tone taking on a more serious note. "I tend to agree. But one distinction to make is that he is not on our side; we are on his." He turned slightly to face Captain Hawkins, ensuring the gravity of his words was understood. "There's no going against them. Appointed by Odin, he technically rules this planet now, even if the System doesn't recognize it yet. Eventually, he'll likely receive some sort of quest to seize the planet and become its leader or champion. There's no telling which it will be."

What must someone do to become the ruler of a planet? This system is insane. The idea of one human wielding such immense authority and destiny was staggering. Yet, his resolve remained unshaken, reinforced by his experiences with Sinclair. He had felt the latter's tremendous willpower, a force as steadfast and immovable as a mountain. "Truly inspiring," he murmured, more to himself than to Valthorn. Then, perking up, he added, "Looks like here he comes. I can hear it getting closer now."

General Valthorn's gaze returned to the path from which the monsters streamed. Through the chaos, he caught fleeting glimpses of Sinclair in action. A blur of motion darted from one enemy to another with lethal precision. Each of his movements resulted in bodies being torn asunder, the monsters completely overwhelmed by his ferocious onslaught. A sense of shock registered on Valthorn's face; witnessing this side of Sinclair was both awe-inspiring and slightly terrifying. "It would seem he has been worked into a fearsome visage," he remarked, "I am sure we will find out about it soon. But, I imagine it doesn't bode well for us."

Captain Hawkins, observing the same scene, could only nod in agreement. "You're right about that. Truly a sight to behold." His words, filled with a sense of awe, also echoed the underlying concern for what Sinclair's heightened state of battle fervor meant for them and their mission. The implications were clear: while Sinclair was a formidable ally, his immense power and destiny also brought with them a complexity and unpredictability that could change the course of their struggle.

*****

Sinclair plunged into the heart of the horde, his movements a blur of deadly precision. Giant teeth snapped inches from his flesh, and sharp claws raked across his body, leaving deep red streaks. Undeterred, he fought with relentless ferocity, his agility and strength driving him through the sea of monstrosities.

He activated Primal Resonance, his body leaping with explosive power before using Focused Charge to reposition. Again and again, he triggered Primal Resonance, his movements a whirlwind of violence. Sinclair was the storm's eye, every strike a calculated blow that brought down another foe.

As the chaos engulfed him, he unleashed his full arsenal of skills. A Sand Viper Attack erupted with blinding speed, cutting through enemies so swiftly that they collapsed before they realized they were dead. His partitioned mind directed metal ammunition with unerring precision, each projectile whistling through the air to disable knees or pierce eyes. The battlefield echoed with the rapid impact of his deadly projectiles, each one finding its mark.

When the horde pressed too close, Sinclair charged both hands with Hel's Wrath. The fiery arcs tore through the creatures, igniting the air around him in a violent blaze. His axe lay discarded as he switched to the claws of his gauntlets, tearing through flesh and bone with raw power. His attacks were visceral and efficient, each strike leaving carnage in its wake.

The battle raged with unrelenting intensity. Gradually, the horde thinned, and the sky came into view as the swarm dissipated. Sinclair stood amidst the aftermath, a pit of bodies surrounding him. Blood and ichor soaked the ground, the stench of battle thick in the air.

He climbed out of the pit, breath flowing in and out like the bellows of a dwarven forge. If I can kill just a few more, that is less my people have to deal with. I have to be strong enough.

Before Sinclair stood the imposing wall of Acrovney, its towering height a barrier of protection for the people within. On the ramparts, his allies and their teams watched him and his companions approach. Blood and debris covered their fur and armor, remnants of the fierce battle they had endured.

Sinclair stepped forward, his face marked with the exertion of the fight, his expression fierce and resolute. Throwing his head back, he unleashed a roar that echoed off the walls and across the battlefield. The sound was powerful, carrying through the air like a physical force. It was a challenge, a declaration of defiance, reverberating with his refusal to yield to the Myrkr's encroaching darkness.

He activated Will of the Norns, and the aura surged outward in a palpable wave. The energy shimmered faintly, spreading through the area and enveloping those on the walls and in the field. The force carried with it a sense of determination, bolstering the courage of all it touched.

Sinclair stood unwavering, his aura pulsing in sync with his resolve. The energy infused the defenders with strength, a reminder that they fought together, bound by purpose, against the darkness pressing in around them.

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