Kal paused, gauging the rapidly destabilising situation. The vanguard had become an epicentre of furious fighting. The enemy resisted the attempt to punch into their belly. Not content with having a wedge cut into their force, the Overlord’s best had come to match. Each side hoped to gain an advantage and turn it into victory.

The elite’s arrival closed the gap in the lines. Kal stumbled into the heart of the storm. To his right, Arron fought with remarkable talent. No blow could make it past his lightning-fast reflexes. Kal could see why the enemy had attempted to pin him down. Fighting him head-on would be a sure mistake.

To Kal’s left another Kingsguard, a mage-warrior fought. He sported a half-robe, sliced in places to reveal a solid breastplate beneath. The man blasted foes with arcane energy spouting from one hand, a shortsword in the other kept melee attacks at bay.

Kal squared up against one of the elites who’d burst into the fray. Muscles like tree trunks bulged keeping a blood slicked greatsword aloft. Allowing a single blow to land would be one too many. Kal dodged back from the first swipe. The man snarled and tried to advance, but the trio of Kal, Arron, and the spellsword held him at bay. Not wanting to be on the back foot, Kal pressed forward against the brute. He opened with a feint to the man’s head, before twisting low, trusting his allies to keep his flanks covered. The man anticipated the move and used the length of the sword to his advantage. He caught the real blow with minimal adjustment from his initial stance.

Kal flinched to dodge from a blurred projectile, but it wasn’t enough. Barely inches from his face, the magical speeding bolt bounced off an invisible barrier. The spellsword! Kal nodded his thanks to his saviour's outstretched hand. He’d be buying the beers given a chance, assuming he survived. The warrior ahead of him must have been as surprised as Kal. He stayed his next blow, dodging away from the previously harmless projectile, which had deflected his way. Kal wasting no opportunity, used the opening to slice the man’s neck open.

Overlord’s Elite defeated.

Kal pestered his saviour enough for his nameplate to show ‘Alex Storm’. The king's guard didn’t seem to be fond of small talk. Not that Kal blamed them given the circumstances. For them, this wasn’t a game; they had real stakes. Their reactions, too complicated to be scripted, held a real emotion.

The trio pushed their way through the front lines. Alone Kal would have never made it this deep, that didn't stop him from giving his all. He brimmed with a determination to not burden the king's guards. Kal used any trick he could think of on the fly. Aided by his character’s enhanced physical prowess, he kept up the pace.

After dispatching of another enemy, Kal inspected his stats.

HP 240/440

He sucked in through his teeth. He’d expected higher. The enhanced stats from the king’s aura had increased his health and its regeneration, but Kal still didn’t feel comfortable.

The allied line buckled from the engagement; something flung more soldiers back. Their bodies were already lifeless before they ragdolled to the earth. An enormous opponent emerged twenty feet away. Before him, the allied lines scattered and routed. Those who did stand were smacked aside with ease. Kal instinctively began to back off. He gritted his teeth and held ground. He’d see this battle to its conclusion.

The figure bounded into the space opened by those fleeing, scattering another pair of soldiers. Before the line could be completely decimated, a second entered the scene. Both sides stepped back, opening a ring of ground for them to face off.

“This stops here!” The king bellowed. The last stand had begun.

The Overlord replied by slamming his dark blade into the ground. A shockwave emanated from the tip of the weapon radiating fissures through the earth. The travelling wave knocked combatants from both sides off their feet.

An unseen force subdues you.

Kal felt like an anvil had been thrust onto his shoulders, pinning him down. Only one defied the Overlord and remained standing. The king! He stood in the open, alone against the might of a titanic adversary.

The King stood proud, at least six inches taller than Kal, with his plate bulking him out further. The Overlord had another head of height on the King. He stood like a stereotypical dark lord; his jet black plate armour had no edge spared of spikes. The greatsword looked like it would take two or three men to lift. This terror held it in one hand, pointed towards the king. The other arm had a jagged shield built of the plate’s armguard.

“Bow before me, and I’ll grant you a quick death.” The humanity in the voice from within the helm shocked Kal. He’d expected a booming shout, something sinister. Instead, this man seemed mortal. “I will spare your army too if they kneel.”

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“There will be no kneeling today, false tyrant!” The king shouted back. “Show your face, and we’ll talk of your surrender.”

“Surrender?!” The helm spat. “Look around you. None can stand against me. Not even the great king of Alterion.”

“I can, and I will!”

As the pair exchanged verbal venom, Kal noticed ten small glints of light, like LEDs or glowing gems built into the helm.

The king mentioned something of ten relics earlier. They must be providing power to the Overlord.

The two leaders realising no amount of bargaining would bring an acceptable conclusion took to the fight. The Overlord allowed the king to advance, confident in his obscene strength. The air shook with power as their blades met in a heartbeat, the two huge figures impossibly quick. Both engaged in a violent dance, circling each other while exchanging blows and parries. Each collision gave out an ear-splitting ring. Around them, everyone watched on, still held down by the unnatural weight.

As the duel continued, each fighter displayed immense skill and power. Kal could barely keep track of the action. The king fought with more talent; his form and technique were nigh impeccable. Even so, the enhanced speed and strength he faced proved unstoppable. The Overlord knocked away every astonishing stab and slash from the king. Only a few insignificant blows made their way to the black plate of the monstrosity. The king, ever so slowly lost the fight, as his endurance waned. Each counter-attack that he parried drew from his strength. Someone needed to intervene.

Kal urged himself to get up, forcing every fibre of his virtual being into motion. But it wasn’t enough. He managed a half-crouch, unable to raise his sword arm or lift a foot off the ground.

They needed a distraction.

“Alex!” Kal hissed out to his equally pinned ally, “can you cast a bolt or a fireball?”

Alex struggled to shake his head, a look of shame cast his bloodied face. “I’m sorry.” He managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“We need to try something!” Kal urged. “If not the king and all of us are dead.”

“I’ll try,” the man said with a determined finality.

Kal switched his gaze back and forth between the melee and the spellsword. To Kal’s despair, the Overlord forced the king backwards. The Overlord’s army began to jeer and chant from their state of submission. The colossal sword had hewn off one gilded shoulder plate and exposed a near mangled leg. How the king still stood, never mind fought was a mystery. The king would fight to his last breath.

Looking back to Alex, Kal could see sweat beading at his brow. The man shook as if overtaken by hypothermia, his spellcasting arm twitching as he tried to raise it.

“Come on Alex. You have to-”

With a scream, Alex lifted his arm. An orb of azure light grew to the size of a football against his palm. It lingered for several heartbeats before firing off towards the duel.

“Fuck yes, Alex!” Kal cheered. He wondered how much mental fortitude it had taken to cast the spell under such crippling effects. They watched as the orb of magic darted away, directed at the Overlord. Upon impact, the projectile bounced off the plate, reflected into the ground behind the fight. The spell exploded, finishing off half a dozen pinned down soldiers.

Kal sighed but had no time to ponder their failure. His already primed and straining limbs pushed him away from the ground. As the pressure lifted, Kal flung into the open circle.

The tyrant reeled from a blow to his left leg. The debilitating pressure on Kal eased further. The king had used the distraction to smash his blade in a haymaker strike to the abdomen, earning all a few moments of respite.

Speeding towards the pair, Kal still gripped the sword. At least he could go down swinging. Not that he could hope to match the Overlord. A deep fear welled within Kal, as the nightmarish figure turned to face him. Somehow he pressed on.

“Fuck this. Fuck you!” Kal jumped, his momentum carrying him forward. He swung with all the power he could muster, using the flat of the blade as a bludgeon. The armour had been impervious to the king’s sword. Attempting to penetrate it would be a lesson in futility. Besides, he didn’t mean to slice, only smash.

“You obnoxious insect,” the voice within the helm spat with anger, which quickly turned to fear. “Nooo.”

A huge plated arm rose to block Kal. Too late. Kal’s blade collided with the helm, shattering on impact. The defending arm swatted Kal away, throwing him to the ground several feet away.

Kal groaned from the pain, he’d broken several ribs and wouldn’t be continuing the fight any time soon. He rolled his head to the side, expecting to see the Overlord executing the king. Instead, the giant sword dropped to the ground. Three of the gems shining from the helm had ceased glowing. They seemed to draw in light, like tiny black holes.

“The relics,” Kal whispered to himself, barely able to breathe through the pain in his chest. He couldn't keep his eyes off their rainbowed hues. The raw power of just one drew Kal in. Together they dazzled and pulled.

The imposing weight lifted, and around hundreds of fighters, scrambled to their feet. The king, not hesitating before the battle could resume, pressed his advantage. He hacked at the arm which reached for the greatsword, repeatedly slicing at it like a hunk of firewood. While unable to dismember the limb, the king succeeded in rendering it useless.

“Your distorted reign ends now, son.” The king shouted, an evident pain in his voice.

The Overlord’s functioning arm ripped at the helmet and pulled away. A young man in his twenties knelt cradling his defunct arm. His hair, dyed jet black, a contrast from the glowing features before him. That and the piercing red eyes were the only difference from the king. The Overlord could have been a young portrait of his father.

“Father, end this,” his voice childlike.

The king hesitated a short moment before closing his eyes. He swung with deadly precision, decapitating the once-Overlord with ease.

Tutorial Complete.

With the defeat of his son, the king of Alterion vowed never again to let the relics be reunited. He scattered them across the land, hid them in bunkers deep beneath impenetrable fortresses, and placed them under the care of incorruptible watchers. These relics lie in wait for any who are strong enough to claim them and their power.

Welcome to Alter Online

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Bonus starting sequence unlocked.