Zeke paced back and forth, periodically looking up at the sun. It was high in the sky, with only a few wispy clouds marring the blue expanse. But Zeke couldn’t banish the feeling that there was a storm coming.

“Can you be any more dramatic?” asked Eveline. “It’s just a battle. You’ve fought in hundreds of those.”

He didn’t favor her with a response. Instead, he cast his mind back to the decision to join the centaurs in a potential alliance. It made sense on just about every level. They were a powerful people, and they had the ability to making crossing the wide Mukti Plains a nightmare for Zeke and his people. More, if Zeke had refused the alliance, it would have thrown everyone into unnecessary battle; and while he was confident in his abilities, that didn’t mean he wanted to engage in a war with the centaurs.

Because even if he won, there would be casualties.

Besides, the herd had been respectful, and they’d come in peace. If there was a diplomatic solution, he would’ve been stupid not to take it.

Of course, that diplomatic solution depended on him helping the centaurs in their ongoing war against the hill giants.

“Oh, come on. You hate giants.”

“I don’t hate all giants. Just the ones I’ve met.”

“You technically didn’t meet these hill giants before you neatly categorized them as enemies,” Eveline pointed out. “Some people might even call that subtle racism.”

“I’m not racist.”

“No – I know that. But other people…”

Zeke sighed, running his hand through his hair. He hadn’t yet adopted his colossal form, largely because it would have been a waste of mana. He did keep it primed and ready to go, though. In any case, he gave Eveline’s assertion some thought. He really didn’t care for giants. That was a fact. But that dislike was rooted in real events. Everything he’d ever heard about or seen from the race of enormous humanoids pegged them as aggressive, warlike, and xenophobic. They hated anyone who wasn’t like them, and they exercised that dislike by waging constant wars against anyone they could reach.

The only thing that kept giants from sweeping across the world was the fact that many of them were tied to their native locations. Frost giants struggled to survive any temperatures that far exceeded freezing, hill giants needed their mountains – or more appropriately, the earth attuned mana that suffused such areas – and fire giants, presumably, couldn’t venture away from their volcanoes. Particularly powerful individuals had more freedom of movement, and history was filled with all the carnage those giants had wrought.

No - they were bad news, and everyone in the world knew it.

So, it wasn’t a difficult decision to ally himself – and by extension, his people – with the centaurs in their war against the giants. Still, if Zeke had had his way, he would’ve already moved on.

However, circumstances had forced his hand. Now that he could summon a gate that would lead him to the tower, his own movement wasn’t nearly as restricted. And he’d already decided that, for now, the tower needed to remain stationary so that his people could venture out into the real world. After all, they still needed to hunt and grow stronger. The tower could provide for most of their needs, but the reality of the world was that if they never gained levels, eventually, they would be steamrolled by someone stronger.

Besides, from what Zeke had seen of the centaurs, they were decent enough people.

“You’ve barely scratched the surface of who they are,” Eveline reminded him. “For all you know, they’re eating babies the moment your back’s turned.”

“They do not eat babies.”

“You never know. It’s a weird world.”

Zeke suppressed a sigh, then continued his pacing. Behind him was a small dell, with a shallow stream cutting through the center, but the rest was the same grassland he’d seen throughout the rest of the Mukti Plains. However, in front of him was a thin sheet of mana that he could barely sense, even from only a few feet away. It was the product of a group of the kobold spiritweavers, who’d empowered a ritual of concealment to keep him and the nearby gate hidden from observation.

The plan was simple enough. The centaurs meant to entice the giants into a pitched battle, and then, once the enemy was fully committed to the fight, Zeke and his kobolds would emerge from concealment and fall upon the enemy from the rear. It was a basic strategy, but one that was only possible because of two factors.

The first was the spiritweavers’ ritual, the likes of which was not common knowledge. Sasha might’ve been able to achieve the same results, but not without weeks of intense study. The same could be said for various enchanted defenses; those were expensive and required much more expertise than most possessed.

The second factor at play was the nature of the tower and Zeke’s gates. When he’d first evolved the tower, he’d been thinking too small, but since then, he’d discovered that the gate system gave his army unparalleled mobility. While it was difficult – or nigh impossible, from what he’d been told – to hide an army, concealing one man and a gate was infinitely easier.

Which was the deciding influence when it came to their current strategy.

Zeke waited impatiently for the signal. He usually considered himself a patient man, but that was only true insomuch as he could occupy his mind. But with battle looming over him, and with the timing needing to be perfect, he couldn’t afford to sink into skill crafting practice. Nor could he meditate on the ambient mana. He simply had to wait.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Fortunately, the interlude came to an end when he finally saw a small flare of light arcing through the blue sky.

So, with that done, Zeke turned to Silik, who’d been standing silently beside him, and said, “Get them moving.”

The giant kobold responded with a simple nod, then raced through the gate and into the tower. Only a moment later, the kobold army came pouring out. So did Pudge and Jasper. Sasha, Eta, and Kianma had remained within the tower; they had their own parts to play, and hopefully, it wouldn’t require them to enter combat.

“You should’ve just let the sorceress deal with them all,” Eveline said. “Give her a few days, and she could have –”

“We went over this,” Zeke responded with a mental sigh. “Her spells would have killed the centaurs, too.”

It was true. Sasha was a potent weapon, and given enough time to prepare, she could turn the tide of nearly any battle. However, her truly offensive spells were so devastating that they were as much of a danger to allies as they were to enemies. Eventually, she would learn to control her power, but until then, she would be of no more use than a watered-down mage.

As for Eta and Kianma, they’d both volunteered to tend to any potential wounded by setting up a triage station in the Entry Hall where they intended to treat anyone they deemed incapable of reaching the Crimson Spring before dying. Hopefully, their efforts wouldn’t be needed, but Zeke had chosen to play things a bit more safely than was probably necessary. He didn’t want to lose a single kobold if he could help it.

“That’s not realistic.”

“I know.”

It didn’t matter, though. For better or worse, Zeke cared immensely about the safety of his adopted people. Partly, because he’d made a promise to the giant wyrm, Mikaena. But also because they had put so much faith in him. He wanted to be worthy of the title of Ak-toh, which meant “Savior.”

In any case, those thoughts only had a few moments to flit through his mind before the bulk of the army had exited the tower’s gate. Once they’d finished, he turned to his army – more than a thousand of the strongest kobolds – and said, “It’s time. You all know what to do.”

After that, he turned, used [Triune Colossus] fueled by earthen mana, and strode forward. The army followed.

“Great speech. Very motivating.”

“Shut up,” Zeke said to Eveline.

He’d considered trying to elaborate and give some riling speech that would whip the kobolds into a frenzy, but in the end, he’d decided against it for two very poignant reasons. First, he just wasn’t built for that kind of thing, and the mere thought of giving a speech was enough to twist his stomach into knots of anxiety. And second, he didn’t think it would do much good. The kobolds were already wholly committed to doing whatever he told them to do, following him with a nearly religious fervor. So, it didn’t feel as if it would make much difference, which was all the excuse Zeke needed to decide against trying to play the role of a great motivator.

“Coward,” Eveline said with a giggle.

Zeke didn’t respond, instead focusing the whole of his attention on the task at hand. He crested the small slope, then saw the battle raging in the distance. The two sides clashed with predictable fury – they were ancient enemies, after all – but that wasn’t the first thing he noticed. Instead, his attention briefly settled on the terrain, which was studded with aged ruins. Mostly, those ruins were represented by a few low and crumbling walls, but the closer they got to the lines of battle, the more intact the structures were. And just behind the centaurs was a large amphitheater that looked like it could’ve once held at least ten thousand people.

To the centaurs, it was a place of reverence. Sometime in their ancient past, they’d been allied to a race of enlightened beastkin who’d built grand cities throughout the plains. However, after the hill giants claimed the nearby mountains, they’d started to raid those cities. Sometimes, they took prisoners, but mostly, they just destroyed anything they could find. Eventually, after experiencing one defeat after another at the hands of the hill giants, the beastkin were either killed or fled to other lands, leaving the centaurs alone.

To combat the giants’ raids, the centaurs had developed into a nomadic society. Constantly on the move, they presented few targets for the warlike giants. And so, they had survived. The grand cities of the beastkin had not, though the centaurs had continued to revere their allies’ former homes.

Zeke had been told that such ruins were borderline to the centaurs, and they refused to allow the giants to desecrate them. So, even though it probably would have been much better for the centaurs to fight the giants on more open ground, Zeke could understand why they’d chosen the field of battle.

Besides, they were holding their own.

The giants, just like the Jotuns back in the Radiant Isles, were nearly fifteen feet tall, with all the apparent strength their immense size would imply. More, like those Jotuns, they very much typified their attunement. So, while those frost giants had presented as clearly ice themed, the hill giants were bulky, with weathered, rock-like skin and hair beards that looked more like cascading moss than anything else. Each one wielded a primitive looking weapon, though the arms were varied. Zeke saw axes, clubs, spears, and swords, as well as quite a few shields and other, less identifiable weapons.

By comparison, the centaurs had armed themselves with lances as well as wicked-looking sabers, with some of the smaller members of the race wielding bows and arrows. There were few skills in evidence, but that was as expected. Only the most powerful members of either race used abilities with outward expressions. Instead, they were usually confined to less obvious body enhancements and more subtle skills.

It didn’t matter, though. Both sides were incredibly dangerous, which meant that Zeke and his people needed to be wary.

All of that flashed through his mind as he raced across the plain, his earthen feet leaving huge divots with every stride. He could have simply crashed through the ruins, but instead, he leaped over them – a bit of an annoyance, given that any time he was out of contact with the earth, the drain on his mana became a bit stronger. But he didn’t want to anger his new allies by destroying their sacred ruins.

Behind Zeke, the rest of the army came. The kobolds were all armed with spears and hide shields, but the former slaves’ equipment was more varied. There were a few who’d managed to cobble together whole suits of metal armor, but most of them were equipped with hardened leather. The weapons, which had been provided by the Arsenal – the dwarf who’d been enslaved because he’d resisted the corruption wafting through the portal beneath Min Ferilik – so they were all of better than average quality.

As for Zeke himself, the only armor he needed was his earthen form, which was far and away more durable than anything else he could ever hope to equip. In addition, he carried his trusty hammer, Voromir, as he raced toward the battle.

The back line of the giants reacted, but when they finally wheeled around to meet the new threat, it was far too late. Leading the charge, Zeke crashed into a particularly large giant with a shoulder charge, then followed that up with a massive, overhand attack that shattered the creature’s thick skull.

And then, the battle was joined as the rest of the army of kobolds, each one wreathed in the light of their self-enhancement skills, slammed into the giants, leading the way with their shields and spears. Behind them, hundreds of lances of pure, devastating light arced out, tearing through the startled and scrambling giants.

But the hill giants were durable creatures, and they wouldn’t succumb so easily.

That was fine with Zeke. He was already geared up for battle, and it would’ve almost felt like a disappointment for it to end so quickly. With that in mind, he resumed his efforts, swinging his hammer with the stoic fury of a mountain.