When the beasts crashed into the Barringvale ranks, all hell broke loose. The formation Marth had devised disintegrated in an instant as the soldiers naturally closed in around the first underkind, desperately trying to prove to themselves that the monsters could be slayed.

The rest of the pack bombarded the soldiers from the side, slashing and infecting soldiers with every swipe of their claws. Heldrus watched from the rear, cringing at the number of limbs that would have to be amputated, if they even made it through the fight at all.

He pushed through the packs of Barringvale and Erinian soldiers, running into Marth as he half-fell-half-leapt from the battlements. His sword glowed green, and he slashed the air in front of them as the pair carved their way through. It was reminiscent of the battle against the bandits, but they were missing their third member, Peskimir.

Stop it, Heldrus. Focus.

Without his armor, Heldrus was vulnerable. If it weren’t for the glowing saber he held, his fate would have already been decided in the first moments of the underkind fight. Something about the imbued magic seemed to make the blade sharper, lighter, better. The crimson scales parted before him, and his biggest hindrance now was having to dodge out of the way of the hot, acidic blood that stained the battlefield.

The Erinians had slowly come forward to retrieve the magical weapons of those that had dropped them. They took a few awkward strikes to adjust, but the human forces were doing a decent job of holding back the tide. The underkind bashed against their shields and were sent flying back from the explosion spell imbued into them. Heldrus started to think they had a chance.

Then, frustrated with the brick wall they’d hit, one of the giants stepped forward. Its massive frame threatened to reach the top of the gate, and it certainly could’ve made it if it reached up with its hairy arms.

When it came through the gate, it did just that – but in its arm was boulder.

It threw what used to be part of the Barringvale wall directly into the shield wall, and despite the enchantments which detonated the boulder on impact, the size of the projectile and the speed with which it was launched was too much to be deflected, and four shieldmen were sent to the dirt in a crumpled pile. Those directly behind them got caught up too, flailing under the broken bodies on top of them.

Marth sheathed his sword and brought around his bow, yelling an order.

“All archers! Target the big fucker!”

It was simple, and it got the point across. No one needed clarification on who the ‘big fucker’ was.

A cloud of arrows zipped into it, some imbued, most not, and the beast roared. An inferno spell spread across its matted hair, the flames fanning out through the congealed oil. It retreated, beating its chest where the hair and skin were charring.

But its job had been done – when the archers took their sights off the main horde of smaller underkind, they swarmed forward, no longer impeded by the constant tirade of explosions and fire. They crashed into the gap created by the boulder, mingling in with the soldiers who tried in vain to swing their blades. The few with daggers managed to fend off one or two, but the monsters were deadly in close range, and the broadswords and rapiers used by the Barringvale men were just too unwieldly with their allies crammed in next to them.

The vanguard platoons dispersed, pushing out of the main street to take refuge where they had a chance at fighting the underkind.

Heldrus tried to hold the line, but he was pushed and jolted into a side street with a small group of Erinians. They seemed to know each other, at least by name, but they looked to him to call the shots. Something about the glowing blade and lack of armor made him look valiant.

He looked around them, assessing their area. A pack of underkind, similar numbers to their squad, chased them into the alley, and a second set came from behind, sealing them in. There were only three in the second set, and one had a severed arm, the same as Heldrus. Looking at the purple blood oozing from it made his stump hurt, but he couldn’t look away. He gave an order from clenched teeth.

“We’re going to have to rush this lot behind us. Let me lead, and don’t let them touch you. Spread the word if we make it out – you must avoid touching them at all costs.”

The soldier to his left gulped and nodded. When the larger group of underkind rushed them, they turned tail and bolted to the smaller pack.

Heldrus started swinging when he was still a few meters from the ravenous claws that were aimed at his throat. A near transparent light left his blade, moving through the air ahead of him and impacting the first underkind. The light passed through the creature and kept its shape on the other side, cleaving straight through its midsection. He rolled to avoid the reaching arm of a second underkind, then one of the soldiers with him cut down, lopping it off. Blood spurted onto the cobblestones, and some landed on another soldier's boot. He yelped and shook it off as the leather started to sizzle and spit. A few seconds later and he would've had a hole in his foot.

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The remaining three men were busy handling a small snarling underkind. Without imbued weapons, they were afraid of approaching within its reach, and they kept darting in and out with fleeting stabs that didn’t do more than annoy the monster. Heldrus came at it from the side and struck it with a vertical swing, separating the beast almost in two pieces.

The men looked relieved, but there was no time to admire Heldrus’s handiwork – the larger pack was approaching fast, and they weren't deterred by the green blade. Heldrus shoved the men in front of him with his fist closed around his blade, knowing they wouldn’t be fast enough.

“Run! Round that bend, turn left and get back to the others. Quick!”

He turned to face the pack, steadying the light sword. He would’ve preferred a nice heavy blade, two-handed, but that was like wishing for the night to never come. He gritted his teeth and crouched low, taking a deep breath.

When they spread out, he knew there were too many. He might draw their attention long enough for the others to escape, but his plight was certain.

When he cut down the first underkind, another two pushed aside the body in its death throes, reaching for Heldrus. It would take a miracle.

He caught a scaled hand on the flat of his blade, and it pushed him back, his boots scraping on the cobblestones as the others surrounded him. He tried to twist the blade, but the creature held fast, drawing blood on its hand which dribbled down the metal, gathering at the hilt. It threatened to spill over and burn his hand.

He heard a whistle. It sounded like someone directing troops, maybe Marth, maybe Mitrev if he’d gained some courage in the last hour of fighting. Either way, it was too far away, too slow to save him.

See you soon, Pesk.

The world erupted around him in a symphony of heat and sound.

Is this what it felt like? It hurts. I’m sorry.

But there was another sound. The howling of underkind. And the grip on his blade had loosened. Smoke still choked him, and stones filled the air, but he was human. Three limbs, ten toes, five fingers. No claws.

The smoke cleared, and standing at the end of the alley was a man with a shining hammer. It glowed green, like his sword, but it also alternated with blue, like he’d seen on the arrows and some of the axes.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had happened, but then he assessed the damage around him. From the place where his savior stood to where the mangled underkind lay there were the pockmarks of eight or so craters, and a three-meter-deep pit sunk just in front of him, like the true detonation had happened right there. He had no idea how he’d survived. The man ran over. It was the Erinian blacksmith – Darius.

“Geez mate, are you alright? I didn’t even see you there – you had five or six of those beasties on you.”

Darius lifted the unarmored man from the destroyed road, being careful not to step in the pools of purple blood.

“You’re Darius, aren’t you?”

“Aye. And you would be...”

“Heldrus. We met one time at your forge, though you wouldn’t have recognized me. Thank you for saving me, what on earth was that magic?”

Darius couldn’t recall meeting anyone who looked even vaguely like this man. He shrugged. Either way, their paths had coincided, half the Continent away from Erinstone.

“Nice to meet you Heldrus. We better get out of here; I’ll tell you later.”

They ran back down the alley, ending up back in the thick of the battle. Darius let loose with his hammer, sending a salvo of explosions and green, shimmering hammers into the underkind, crunching into the swarm that swept up the street. Heldrus assisted as best he could with his blade, but Darius was a one-man army, carving through the masses. His form was questionable, and he didn’t have a great sense of the battle, but his raw power made up for it.

“Darius! We need to create a stronghold on the high-ground – can you clear us a path to that hill?”

He gestured towards a knoll where one of Barringvale’s many carpenters used to live. The house had fallen prey to a barrage of explosions, and now it wasn’t much more than kindling. Marth was already there, trying to direct a platoon to form a blockade against the advancing underkind.

Darius launched into the masses, fearless with the adrenaline, sweeping his hammer in devastating arcs. Marth popped his head up from behind the growing shield wall, noticing his friend laying waste to the monsters.

Heldrus was guarding their behind from the encroaching underkind, but one man wasn’t enough to repel the horde, and he was only one falter away from falling prey to crimson creatures. Marth could see him struggling, but the space between them was filled with underkind. There was only one way he could think of getting to them.

He shouldered through the shield wall, pushing aside soldiers to create a gap.

“Move! Move! I’ve gotta get over there, leave some room!”

He backed up, then with a running start, launched himself over the snarling creatures, sailing feet first into an underkind about to claw at Heldrus. He crunched into it with the heel of his boot, landing on his feet and stabbing down into the back of the fallen monster. Heldrus was puffing hard but nodded his thanks.

They kept up the guard, the duo protecting Darius as he forged a path ahead. He felt powerful, like his swings contained strength far beyond what was possible for him, and he was sharp. There was some sort of connection with his weapon that allowed him to swing at a pack of underkind and wipe them all out, but leave the men they were attacking uninjured. He hadn’t seen Heldrus when he’d cleaned up the pack in the alley, but the magic somehow knew not to blow him up alongside the monsters.

Alternatively, I’m just getting extremely lucky.

Underkind came at him from all sides, but he swept them away with a flurry of explosions. He was glad he could just swing indiscriminately, because it meant he didn’t have to look at the creatures and see their horrifying features – he could just keep his head down and attack anything crimson.

When they made it back to the shield wall, the Erinians had mixed in with the Barringvale soldiers, assuming the positions and imbued weapons of those that had fallen. Archers pinned down the giants, and one of them was lying face down on the road, pricked with hundreds of arrows. Its whole back was aflame from the salvo of fire arrows lodged into its hide.

Marth called for the spearmen to make their way forward, preparing to thrust through the gaps in the advance. The Strike Spell worked especially well on spears, giving them the ability to strike at almost double their length.

When the remainder of the Continent’s army was in position. Marth shouted an order.

“All soldiers! CHARGE!!!”

The battlefield boiled with the battlecries of the soldiers, and they advanced in one bloody, final push.