Before leaving, John paid a quick visit to the Slayer of Gorax'thal, asking for the time of the day, and hearing the answer he cursed, turned around, and rushed out.

He had nineteen minutes to get from the outskirts all the way back to the Valiant's stand which was an hour-long walk with no stops and a decent pace.

Diving through the archway and into the early afternoon of the autumn day, he pushed his body to its new limits, and barreled through the streets at breakneck speed.

Damn, I was so lucky.

Not asking would guarantee him being late, but because he already cleared up most of the packs on his way north, the streets he ran through were mostly empty and allowing for a very fast pace.

Feeling the chilling air rushing over his face made him smile. Even the smell of the air was getting better. He lived in a city his whole life, but the family visits to his late grandparents made him appreciate the fresh early-morning breeze coming from the forests behind their garden.

I hope you are holding up, sis.

She was always a resourceful little menace, and if there were some kind of people with higher chances of making it out alive, she—gods be damned—should be one of them. Their parents though…

Shaking his head, he forced himself not to think about that. He would hope that they would once again sit around the dinner table and enjoy mom's meanest apple pie while talking about dad's new gardening project.

Taking a sharp turn at the last corner, he almost collided with a group of people standing behind the intersection.

His reflexes screamed a warning, but his momentum couldn't be immediately stopped, forcing him to throw himself to the side and so he wouldn't crush anyone in his path.

"Oumf," he rolled over the asphalt for another couple of meters before finally coming to a stop after crashing into a meter-high rock formation in the middle of the road.

"Man, are you alright?"

"What happened?" The voices came closer, but it took him a moment to find his bearing and push himself up. His left knee and elbow felt bruised, and the fall scraped through the fabric of his pants, creating three distinct holes in the front.

"John, is that you?"

The familiar bear-like shape of Marcus Blackwell came into his view from the building on the left.

"Yeah. And sorry about this, I was trying to make it before the last wave and wasn't expecting anyone standing right behind the corner."

"Maan, I almost shat myself as you suddenly popped in front of me," said the guy he nearly ran over.

"Well, then it's good you have the brown pants, eh?" John quipped back, making the guy chuckle.

"When you didn't come back, we thought you were dead, John. What were you doing out there the whole night?" Asked Marcus after directing the rest of his group back to work.

They were raising those rocks from the ground, changing the smooth asphalt into a far more difficult terrain.

"Hm? Oh, sorry, I got distracted. What are they doing?"

"The people were worried the last wave would be more difficult so we decided to do some last-minute changes."

Looking back, he was right, the whole street all the way back to the wall was filled with obstacles. There were holes in the ground, boulders blocking a straight path, sharp metal bits tied together… There was a bunch of stuff.

"That's a neat idea. Good thinking," John applauded their proactivity. He also believed that this wave would be more difficult, and hopefully also finally bring this whole assault to a close and grant some useful rewards.

That was also the reason why he even bothered to come back. If not for the rewards, he would have remained north, farming the piles like never before.

And today, he did exactly that for four hours, and frankly the javelin changed everything. It was the thing that made the difference between a prolonged fight and a slaughter. Until yesterday, he lacked a useful tool against the Rothounds and was forced to rely on his two minions, but now, a single well-placed throw could heavily injure or outright kill a wounded pack-member, letting him clear a five-hound pack with only minimal risk.

"John, wait! We need to talk."

"Not now Marcus, I want to grab a few things at Zagratix's hoard, and the final wave could start any minute. We'll talk later."

"But…"

Ignoring him, John made his way inside and stopped by the bounty board.

The tasks remained the same, so he quickly grabbed the hardest Wiping out the packs and Crushing the brains and then went inside the building shaped like a massive ruby.

It was empty of people and eerily silent. Previously, his shopping was accompanied by the clutter of metals scraping over each other, but now the sense was almost off-putting.

Looking around the large cave-like structure made out of a single enormous ruby, he saw the same exact mess with piles upon piles of mostly secondhand gear.

Judging by the dark crusted blood covering most of the armor pieces, he guessed the majority of previous owners didn't make it out alive.

Shaking his head, he chided himself for wasting time and got to it. After all, the final wave could start any second now.

Luckily, he already had a rough idea of what to grab so he started ruffling through the pile closest to him.

Aha!

The first thing—a pair of wrist guards—fell into his view a couple of seconds later, and after a strong tug, he successfully freed both from the middle of the pile.

One-twenty whites, perfect!

The second thing he had on his list was some kind of head protection. The problem was, he refused to wear any helmet, but that limited his available options significantly.

Maybe this chainmail hood? No, it's too heavy and keeps flopping around.

How about this…

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

[Attention Valiant's stand!

The fifth and final wave of relentless assault is about to begin. You have ten minutes to prepare]

Damnit!

He was now on the clock, and didn't even get to the remaining three items. Making a decision to leave the head protection for later, he quickly rummaged through the piles for a useful belt and a pair of well-made leather boots.

Luckily for him, the next pile was mostly filled out with leather gear, and in the next minute, he held a belt made out from dark-red hide covered in thumb-sized green scales. A pair of sturdy yet comfortable brown boots came into his view a moment later, and after trying them out, they were a perfect fit.

Even then, there wasn't enough time to pick protective leggings, and with no prospects for a usable helm, he made his way to the counter.

Touching the yellow crystal, he willed the five-thirty-nine through and headed out.

Wait, could that…

On the other side of the pile he passed by was a dark-green mantle with a large symbol of three intertwined black circles embroidered on its back.

Hmm, very firm to the touch, he inspected the quality and looked for any potential damages.

It was heavier than expected, and made out of strange coarse fabric, giving him hope of some defensive capability without the loss of mobility or his field of vision.

I'll take it.

Making a quick glance at the price tag, he almost stumbled. The thing was one-twenty-three blues.

Freezing up in indecision, he didn't want to spend so much here, but on the other hand, the thing could cover his back, literally.

Maybe if he had more time, he would stay and look for a cheaper alternative, but being pressed as he was, he willed four yellows and twenty-three blues through, and quickly tossed the whole thing over his shoulders.

Next, he picked up the dark scaled wrist guards and tied them to his forearms, pulled on the new pair of boots, and finally tossed out the expansive—yet flimsy—Prada belt and tied around his waist the new belt covered in scales.

The last thing he did was clip his enchanted bag to the hook on its side and rushed out.

The top of the wall was already filled out, so he turned left and up the stairs to find a position on one of the balconies.

The first floor was unfortunately also packed, but the right balcony on the second floor still remained unoccupied, making John sigh in relief and take up the vacant position with a clear view over the street.

Two minutes later, John saw the familiar green pulse followed by a pale-green tear. It stretched into its supposed size… and continued stretching.

His hearing immediately picked up the worried chatter from the people below, but before the panic set in, the portal encompassed the whole end of the street, and through it, a massive throng of undead zombies poured out.

The prepared obstacles served quite well, blocking some of them off, and thinning the amount that could push forward at the same time.

"Here they come, hold firm!" Marcus yelled out, bashing the bottom of his shield against the concrete.

The working strategy was to stagger the flow by overwhelming combinations of a large area of effect abilities while letting the single-target projectiles whittle down the sides, where the zombies were least affected.

John used his stiletto to earn as many kills as possible while guiding his wisp to inconvenience the zombies who were about to reach the front line, but the tide seemed endless and over time started to push the defenders back.

They were luckily fully decked in protective gear and remained mostly unharmed, but the whole mass of pressing bodies created an unstoppable force that made them lose ground.

A massive explosion immediately followed by a blob of sticky substance created a short pause, giving the first line the time needed to dispatch the remaining ones in front and regain the distance.

Hmm, could it work?

John pulled out his javelin, leaned back, and threw it into the middle of the incoming horde. As it fell down, it pierced through the skull of the first, and right into the chest of the one behind it. This repeated five more times until it lost all momentum and remained stuck inside them.

One killed and five wounded, nice, he thought and willed for it to return to his hand.

The javelin lost cohesion, turned into gray mist, and flowed back toward him, where it once again reconstructed into its solid form.

This cycle repeated itself for the next ten minutes, but the formation held, and the first part of the final wave was behind them.

The flow of monsters stopped coming out, and the next five minutes left the defenders in ominous calm.

"I see another swarm!" Shouted someone from the wall, and looking into the distance, John knew the next battle was about to begin.

This time it was rank upon rank of skeletons, and as they poured out, John was able to spot dozens of knights intermixed between them, and at the end of their roughly two-hundred-soldier battalion stood single Skeleton commander.

They didn't rush forward mindlessly, and kept a tight formation, even though they were under fire from the seven advanced defenders who were expecting a wave of Rothounds instead.

Unfortunately, these skeletal monsters were highly resistant to most affinities, which left all but one of the defenders' abilities far less effective. The last one though shot an earthen projectile that exploded in the middle of their formation and shredded through dozens of skeletons.

This hole created a weakness which would later allow the defenders some breathing room before they got overwhelmed.

John remembered the danger of the commander and redirected his stiletto the moment it got into range, but sadly there was nothing he could do as it replied in kind and whipped one of its short javelins into the people on the wall.

John yelled out a warning, but no one paid him any mind and the bone javelin smashed into the chest of a lean man with dark hair, launching him over the edge and down into the asphalt road three meters below.

He smacked down with a thud and died moments later, still clutching the finger-wide shaft with confusion in his eyes.

The next two projectiles followed mere seconds later, and one caught an older woman in her neck, nearly tearing her head off, and the third passed harmlessly over them, and skirted over the asphalt deeper into the shelter.

The people were now in a panic, some crouching down, while others leaving the wall altogether.

Understanding the danger, John also abandoned his position and rushed down the stairs. His stiletto was already lodged inside the commander, which allowed him to lose sight and get into a better position.

"Listen up, the spear thrower is out of javelins!" John yelled in a loud commanding tone. "It had only three and is now unable to put you in danger. Get back up, and help your fellow defenders, because if they fall, everyone inside dies with them!"

Stepping around the two dead bodies, John climbed up the stairs and took a position on top of the wall. The skeleton battalion was pushing the defenders back, but by now over half was already destroyed, and also the blue pile of ash signaled the death of their commander.

John changed focus on the remaining knights, while also using his own javelin to cause as much damage in their ranks as he could.

It was a fascinating view, and Marcus proved himself as a competent commander because the line held for the entire time without a single casualty. The only thing he noticed was the shifting of rank when someone became too tired and called for a switch, stepping back and letting one of the rested defenders immediately take his place.

The ranged combatants mostly returned back to the wall, and together they finished the last of the skeletal monsters threatening their shelter.

After the last skeleton crumbled into dust, Marcus turned and gave him an appreciative nod, which John returned and jumped down, making his way toward him.

The same seven people once again passed through the opened gap in their formation, getting ready to cause as much damage as possible, and John followed behind them.

They climbed on three meter-high rocks in the middle of the street, and John—to some confused shouts—continued forward until he got roughly forty meters from the portal.

The next wave came two minutes later, and this time it was the expected pack of Rothounds. Instead of one, two packs made their way through side by side, each followed by their Alpha, but before they were able to form up, there was a surprise about to drop down.

Looking behind him, John saw the group nod and all eight of them unleashed their abilities among the two packs.

The explosions were deafeningly loud, and John felt the impact through his feet all the way there.

How can they survive something like that?

The answer came up a few seconds later as the dust settled, and it was as awe-inspiring as it was terrifying, showing over a dozen mangled bodies either dead or heavily injured.

The third part of the final wave began, and John threw a second javelin into their broken midst and started sprinting back.