Trenan Ebert, leader of the Hooligans Slayer team and bronze ranked Hammerman, was not quite sure how to react to the scene in front of his eyes.

It could have been the skeleton with the snake bones dangling from his pelvis that had him so off-balance, but likely not. After all, he’d met Dove before, in a limited capacity. Perhaps it was the large gathering of heretical priests and their followers, openly praying to their three dreadful gods on the outskirts of the town. He’d never been overly devout, but such open disregard for the Divines still made him uncomfortable.

Or was it the massive number of Slayers, many of whom were silver rank, some even gold ranked, more than he’d ever seen in one place at one time? They’d arrived early in the morning and were still in the process of erecting a massive camp outside the town walls. It was organised chaos down there, with friendly and not so friendly bickering in equal measure as Slayers jockeyed for position amongst themselves, trying to get the best spots for themselves and their teammates.

Beside him, Brigette appeared to be going through the same emotions as he was, looking out at the scene with a complicated expression.

“I’ve never been to a Slayer keep,” she said. “Is this what it’s like inside? So many of us all gathered in one place?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “I’ve never been inside one either.”

That was it. The reason he felt so odd. He was used to being a minority, with only a few others who shared his purpose nearby. Going from that, to suddenly being surrounded by people who, more or less, understood him and his work was… odd, yet comforting.

Ortan approached from behind them and Trenan turned to greet him.

“Leadership wants to see you,” the large man stated.

There was a level of resignation on the man’s face that Trenan had grown accustomed to. So many strangers appearing in his sleepy little village, week after week, month after month, and now this.

“So when is the keep going to be finished?” Trenan joked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re going need somewhere for all these killing machines to go.”

“Don’t even start,” Ortan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ve got priests and priestesses chasing me asking when we’re going to build a place of worship devoted to The Three already. Are we really expected to house all these Slayers as well?”

“When are you going to build them a church?” Trenan asked out of curiosity.

“Probably after everyone living here has an actual roof to sleep under,” Ortan replied, scowling.

“Seems fair,” Trenan nodded. “Where are we meeting these people?”

“And who are we meeting?” Brigette cut in, stepping up beside him. “Who’s even in charge of this mess now?”

Now that she mentioned it, that was a good point. Trenan hadn’t even considered that. For so long, the leadership of Cragwhistle had meant the local council, Ortan himself, or the priesthood. It hadn’t mattered much to Trenan and the others; as long as they were able to deal with the rift on their own terms, what did they care for city administration?

“You think anyone in town is going to argue with whoever brought the army of monster slayers to our doorstep? Whoever is running that mess is in charge as far as I’m concerned,” Ortan grunted. “I’m sure as shit not going to argue with them. They’re waiting for you just outside the gate.”

Trenan turned and looked down again, only to find the skeleton looking up at him, swinging his snake bones in a slow circle with one hand.

It took a few minutes to get down from the wall and head to the gate, where he was met by a group of a dozen mixed figures. Unfortunately, Dove was amongst them.

He did his best to ignore the… person… as he tried to work out who was in charge, but that quickly became apparent. An older woman with shoulder length hair, more grey than brunette, and warm eyes approached him hand extended, which he grasped in greeting.

“Slayer Trenan, is it? I’m Rurin, Rurin Wilkin. Nice to meet you. I hear you’ve been having fun battling a brand new rift up here? How’ve the kin been treating you?”

“Poorly,” he replied dryly. “It’s cold as death up there and the monsters are endless.”

Rurin laughed and clapped him on the shoulder and he tried not to wince. Holy hells, this woman was strong!

“That’s how it goes,” she grinned. “As for cold, the delegation from Skyice should be here in a few days, you can compare notes with them. Between you and me, I think they’ve had the worst of it. It's cold enough up there to rattle your bones.”

“Did someone say bones?” Dove declared, stepping forward dramatically.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“No, they didn’t,” Rurin replied, not bothering to turn her head. “So, there are three teams here on the mountain, right? All bronze ranked?”

He and his team were close to silver now, only a few levels away. Hopefully they’d still get a shot at the rift, but he couldn’t help but doubt it. With this many slayers here, there would be enough wanting to keep their skills sharp that access would be hard to come by.

“Uh… yes, that’s right. My team, the Hooligans, team Starfire, and team Weaver. Well, what’s left of them.”

“I heard about that,” Rurin shook her head. “Foolishness.”

That was one way to describe it.

“Are you really going to ignore me?” Dove demanded.

“As much as I can,” came the reply.

“Bah! Why do I bother helping you people? I should go where my talents are more appreciated!”

“Hell?”

“I’m not even sure there is one. I’m about thirty percent convinced that there’s a heaven, so long as you’re willing to pay the price of admission.”

The skeleton leaned towards Trenan and followed up with a loud stage whisper.

“It’s really fucking expensive.”

Unsure what to say, Trenan just turned back toward Rurin.

“Can I ask, ma’am–”

“Holy shit. Call me Rurin, please.”

“Rurin, then. Can I ask what your plan is for the rift?”

“Always mindful of your duty,” she said, smiling. “This is a real Slayer right here. There’s going to be a lot of Slayers going through the rift over the next few days. It’s important that everyone who fights is a higher rank than they were when receiving their brand. Since you’re still bronze, that includes you and your team.”

A welcome surprise. The others would be pleased, especially Samantha. She’d been desperate to get her team to silver before anything happened, so they’d be in a better position to protect themselves.

“Does ranking up really negate the effect of the brand?” he asked.

He’d heard it did, but he hadn’t really believed it all that much.

“Hah! I wish. It helps, I’ll say that much. At the very least, you’ll be able to fight against the enemy without collapsing into a writhing heap on the ground.”

“And afterwards? The town needs to be protected.”

“We will have Slayers here at all times,” she assured him, “have no fear about that.”

She looked around at the camp still coming together behind them.

“We’ll be here for a few days, a week at most. Once the Skyice Slayers have arrived, we can finalise the camp as a semi-permanent base of operations and figure out what our next moves are going to be. Tim’s going over the maps right now, trying to figure out our best way to kick off this war, think about where the Magisters are likely to try and hit us.

“Until then, we’ll be sending teams through the rift a few times a day. You’re welcome to be a part of that rotation, we can even pair you up with a few silvers to help accelerate your growth, if you want. I know better than most the cost of messing with team dynamics, so think it over before you accept. After that, you need to prepare to go into battle. It’s going to get messy, and soon.”

“Is that really it?” Brigette asked. “Are we really expected to just fight and die against the Nobles and Marshals?”

“This is Brigette,” Trenan quickly introduced her, ”she’s a member of my team.”

Rurin nodded and gave the blonde swordswoman a direct look.

“As matters stand, you have two options going forward. You can fight and die against the Nobles and Marshals, or you can just die. They’re coming here, and they will kill everyone, and I do mean everyone, here in Cragwhistle. The men, the women, the children, the babes in their cribs, all of them. When they’re done, not one stone will rest upon another, and your memory will be erased from this realm, as if you were never born.

“Now me, I’m not the sort of person who would let that happen without a fight. Let me know what sort of person you are after you’ve had a think about it.”

A heavy silence hung over the gathering when she finished speaking, each person contemplating her words and the inevitable end that awaited them when their struggle was done. Brigette stood with her fists clenched and jaw set, eyes hardening by the second.

Of course, it was Dove who broke out a bout of insane sounding laughter.

“You lot are hilarious. I can’t get enough of it, the passion, the grim acceptance of death. I’m so glad to be back among the living. Well, the non-monstrous living. Are kin alive? Technically?”

“What’s so funny, Dove?” Rurin asked flatly. “Enlighten us.”

“Two things,” the skeleton said, putting his hands on his hips and deliberately chattering his onyx jaw at them. “First, you talk as if the outcome of this war is already decided, when it is anything but. Unlike the last few times the Slayers have tried this sort of nonsense, we actually have something going for us.

“In case you didn’t know, Tyron Steelarm is really good at magick, like, super good. I’m fairly confident he’s going to find a way to bust into the Magisters’ tower and break the brands. If that happens, we instantly win. The gold ranks rotting in the city will tear the place down around them in a fit of rage and general angst.”

“You think he’s good enough to do something that no one has done in thousands of years? Actually figure out a way to counteract the brands?” Rurin asked, her brow raised.

“No! Of course not. He’ll just find a way to break them. Much easier. Besides, that’s only the first thing that’s hilarious about you.”

“Alright then. What’s the second?”

“The second is the most important of the two!” the skeleton proclaimed, gesticulating wildly. “It points to your fundamental misunderstanding of the reality in which you live.”

He pointed a single bony digit at them accusingly.

“Too blinded by your own experiences to see the truth.”

“Out with it, Dove,” Rurin snapped, finally losing patience. “Say your piece or shut up.”

The skeleton grinned at them, the light burning within his hollow sockets.

“You are still caught in the delusion that your death is in some way meaningful, or important.”

He raised a hand, turned it around and pointed a finger directly at himself.

“Do you really think death would be the end for you?” he asked, then cackled madly at the look on their faces.