(Dylan)

On the return trip to the airship, Wedge was the first to notice them, but kept his voice calm. “Maintain our current pace. Do not react, but we are being surrounded.”

“Where?” Athrax closed his eyes to listen, lifting his snout to sniff at the wind. “I don’t hear nothing, and I can’t make heads of tails of all these bloody new scents.” A low growl rumbled in his throat.

“Easy,” Runemist said, focusing on the trail ahead of them. “Wedge has superior hearing, even better than ours.”

Wedge paused, pretending to help the initiates climb over a rock as he casually shifted toward the rear. “They are in the trees.”

Athrax’s head lifted toward the surrounding trees. He blinked, and the normal browns of his eyes shifted to bright blue. It reminded him of Nathan’s Moonstone Gaze passive.

“Bloody Pits,” Athrax muttered. “There’s an infernal army up there.” He continued to steal upward glances without making it too obvious.

“They have been following since we left the airship. Until now they have just been watching,” Wedge said.

Runemist unscrewed her everflow flask to take a long gulp. Her eyes peeking at the canopy before she put it away. “What’s changed?”

“Now they are trying to get ahead of us,” Wedge said. “I think they are preparing to strike.”

P’reslen hovered just above the ground, gliding over the uneven terrain as he had earlier to avoid tougher spots. He drifted up beside Runemist. “We should hit them first.”

She shook her head. “Stay grounded, P’reslen. Athrax, get me a count.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” Athrax said. He kept walking through the jungle, stepping over and around obstacles as his head slowly turned to assess their numbers.

“I could use my drone,” P’reslen said quickly, the eagerness to help palpable in his voice.

She placed a hand on his arm, her touch light but firm. “No, it could force an early attack.” P’reslen nodded and followed her lead, landing to walk at her side.

“Over thirty of ‘em,” Athrax finally said. “But I can’t be sure how many more without turning around.”

“That’s fine,” Runemist said. “Can you identify them?”

“Size and numbers suggest… saurmonks, but who knows? They’re barely warmer than the rest of this infernal jungle.”

Runemist handed them their orders as if reading a shopping list. “Athrax, take the right. P’reslen, you’re on the left—stay below the canopy. Ostello, bring up the rear. Wedge, keep the initiates in the center. I’ll float to provide support where needed. Questions?”

“What’s a saurmonk?” Dylan asked.

Athrax snorted, shaking his head. “Pups… I tell ya.”

“You will find out shortly,” Wedge said, stepping closer to Dylan.

“Lend me one of those shields, yeah?” Athrax asked, glancing back to Wedge.

“No.”

Athrax frowned and let out a disappointed sigh. “You got two of em…”

With one word, Runemist shifted the team’s energy from tense to explosive.

“Go.”

“Bout bloody time…” the old soldier muttered. He held out his hand, and a long ice spear materialized in his grip, the frost curling off it in cold wisps. He slammed it into the ground with a resonant crack, a grin tugging at his lips as pulses of energy surged outward from the icy conduit. His eyes flicked to the treetops, brimming with anticipation, before he leaped into the branches and vanished from sight.

Wedge unsheathed both shields, holding one out toward Dylan. He let go, and instead of falling to the ground, it floated in midair. After a moment, the shield orbited around Dylan. Apparently, Wedge had an ability that allowed him to use his shields to protect other people, too.

P’reslen rose effortlessly off the ground again. Thick sheets of clear crystal scales rippled across his verdant green skin. A wide grin spread across his face as he ascended, his eyes igniting with a piercing white glow.

Twin beams of intense white light shot from his glowing eyes, slicing through the dense foliage. Wherever they struck, frost crackled and formed in shimmering patches across the leaves and bark.

The more Dylan watched the noble draconi in action, the more he was reminded of a certain caped superhero. P’reslen was the only team member who wore an actual cape instead of a cloak—no hood to pull up, just a flowing cape that looked really cool when he flew.

Dylan was glad the adventurer didn’t wear his underwear on the outside of his pants; he wasn’t sure he could take him seriously if he did.

A half-dozen rocks, each a different color, materialized above P’reslen’s head and shoulders, swelling to the size of softballs in an instant. With a sharp crack, they hurtled into the trees, tearing apart branches, shredding leaves, and, hopefully, crushing any saurmonks in their path.

Dylan stared in awe. “Okay… now that’s something Superman can’t do.” That attack reminded him of his own weapon, slung across his chest and leaning against his back.

He ducked under the strap to swing it around. Quickly unzipping his pouch, he pulled out five orange shells. The casings were smooth and solid in his grip as he slid them into the chamber, one by one.

He looked up from loading his gun and found himself surrounded. Eury, W’itney, Hay’len, and Wedge had closed in, their weapons ready, forming a tight defensive ring. The shield made another pass in front of him. Dylan’s eyes narrowed. They were coddling him.

“What are you guys doing?”

“What does it look like?” W’itney asked.

“We’re protecting you,” Hay’len said.

“Why are you all protecting me?” Dylan gestured toward Eury. “Shouldn’t we be protecting the princ—”

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Eury’s head snapped toward him, giving him a glare sharp enough to stop the words in his throat.

“You are still a refugee under the guild’s protection,” Wedge said.

A bright flash caught Dylan’s eye, coming from where Athrax was fighting. He raised an arm to shield his face as a brilliant micro star flared and ascended into the sky.

For a moment, the jungle plunged into shadow as the star faded, leaving Dylan blinking as his vision struggled to readjust to the ambient understory lighting.

Then a ring of fire erupted high in the trees, the roar of flames consuming everything in its path. Burning creatures rained down, their screeches fading as they hit the ground, dead or dying.

“Put out that fire!” Runemist yelled. “Are you trying to burn down the whole bloody jungle?”

Athrax dropped back to the ground and yelled back, “Stop worrying!” He cradled his cybernetic hands around an invisible ball, his arms vibrating with effort as the ground beneath them quaked.

A wave surged upward, as if pulled from the depths of an unseen ocean. The inky blue wall of water crashed through the burning patch with a deafening roar, quenching the flames and sending debris flying.

When it subsided, an entire swath of jungle lay uprooted, the trees toppled like matchsticks.

He walked up to a still-twitching body. Bending down, he touched its scaly skin. As he rose, an orange glow bloomed from within the creature, illuminating its skeletal frame like a macabre lamp.

Dylan watched his first saurmonk get cremated alive as an internal inferno consumed the poor bastard from within. Before crumbling into a burned-out husk, the creature had been a green, hairless monkey with the head of a Komodo dragon and a long, prehensile tail. Some sort of hybrid lizard-monkey. From this distance, they looked to be about the size of a chimpanzee.

Hisses erupted from the trees as frenzied saurmonks dropped and swarmed toward Athrax. He raised his arm, forming a fist and aiming at the closest one. The creature leaped at him just as a pulse of energy shot down his shoulder and arm, blasting out from his fist. The impact struck the saurmonk mid-air, halting any forward momentum before it fell to the ground, stunned.

Dylan barely had time to register the first fall before the rest overwhelmed Athrax in a snarling, hissing wave.

The old soldier swung his tech-enhanced arms in a relentless rhythm, each strike carrying the weight of precision and power. Fists met flesh with sickening thuds, sending saurmonks reeling. The ones he hit bled purple, streams leaking from their eyes, ears, and mouths as a debuff took hold.

With a furious yell, Athrax released a burst of searing steam. The heat hissed against the air, scalding the closest saurmonks and forcing them to retreat. It bought him a few precious moments before they surged forward again, piling onto him in a shrieking heap.

“Wouldn’t mind my bloody armor and shield right about now,” Athrax grumbled, throwing another punch. “A little help over here.”

Runemist had been watching both P’reslen and Athrax, just as Dylan had. She slipped into the shadow of a nearby tree—and emerged from Athrax’s shadow beside him. Above them, a curtain of black clouds descended, shrouding Runemist, Athrax, and the frenzied saurmonks in the growing darkness.

She flexed her hands, and with a sharp hum, magical energy blades extended from her forearms. The curved blades bent backwards, defensively, but that didn’t stop her from using them to strike with surgical precision.

With rhythmic slashes, she tore into the lower back of a saurmonk, eviscerating it in a blur of motion. The creature collapsed, its lifeless body landing amid the dark tangle of its own entrails. Before Dylan could take in more, the curtain of black clouds swallowed the scene, obscuring everything.

P’reslen was still flying around, his frigid eye lasers carving icy trails through the dense jungle. He approached a tree and thrust both hands forward, releasing a blast of sand that stripped bark, shredded leaves, and snapped branches. A saurmonk tumbled out of the canopy, landing with a muted thud before scrambling onto all fours.

He floated above the creature, snapping his fingers. A crystalline matrix spread across the saurmonk’s skin, its surface growing fractal prisms.

As the saurmonk thrashed, the crystals shattered with sharp, crackling pops, sending razor-like fragments into its flesh. Each frantic thrash to remove the growing minerals only made it worse, tearing fresh wounds until the saurmonk collapsed, bleeding out in a gory heap.

One creature crept up a branch behind P’reslen, readying to pounce.

“Behind you!” Hay’len shouted.

He whipped around just in time, his body flickering away as he teleported. A moment later, in his place, an ice nova exploded outward, flash-freezing the saurmonk mid-leap.

He reappeared on the ground nearby, and a cascade of sky-tinted shards erupted in all directions, shredding everything around him.

Dylan watched as the saurmonk’s frozen body crashed into the ground, sheets of its frozen skin shattered, sloshing off from the impact. The exposed muscle and sinew beneath glistened with frost, a grotesque mix of purple and white. As the freezing effect faded, nothing stopped the blood from seeping through raw muscle, pooling on the ground under its limbs as it shivered.

P’reslen raised a hand to the sky, then brought it down in one swift motion. The canopy above parted and a radiant rainbow descended, its colors shimmering with surreal brilliance. The vibrant arc slammed into the saurmonk with a thunderous crash, crushing it instantly. With nothing to hold it together, the creature’s remains splattered outward in a gruesome explosion of gore.

The rainbow continued to pour down for several moments after the creature had died, boring a deep crater into the jungle floor.

The crystal-coated draconi raised a hand toward the initiates. Behind them, the ground rumbled, cracks splintering outward as jagged crystal blades erupted into the air.

A saurmonk screeched as it found itself trapped in the cage, the sharp edges slicing into its flesh as it thrashed about, searching for an escape. Purple blood streaked the blades of the crystal prison that held fast.

A thunderous roar bellowed from behind the group, its deep, guttural sound reverberating through the jungle and reminding Dylan of the big cats from Earth. It came from Ostello’s direction.

He watched Ostello square off against a massive six-legged, brown-scaled creature. The beast was the size of a tiger, with long saber-like teeth and a tail that flicked side to side.

“Holy shit,” Dylan said. “That’s a big cat, lizard, cat-lizard?”

“Galizine,” Ostello corrected.

Dylan hadn’t noticed when Ostello had put on a bluish gray organic bio suit, but it covered him from neck to toe. It looked amazing and reminded him of that anime with the bio-armor, minus the helmet.

A vivid orange projection illuminated the area where Ostello focused his gaze. The galizine growled, its scaled face contorting in discomfort as it blinked against the light, but it appeared otherwise unfazed.

“It’s immune to petrification,” Ostello said as a bone-white wand materialized in his hand.

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed an ethereal bolt that rippled through the air. The galizine darted to the side, its movements unnervingly fluid, and continued circling him with predatory focus.

Wedge held out his arm, pushing them all back away from the duel.

Dylan pushed against his unyielding arms. “You should help him.”

Wedge stood his ground. “I will not leave you undefended.”

“Okay, then give me a clear shot.” Dylan dropped to one knee, raising the shotgun.

He leveled the barrel at the galizine and squeezed the trigger. The blast echoed through the jungle, but the orbiting shield floated into his line of fire just as he took the shot.

A shell full of medium-sized pellets ricocheted back at him, peppering his chest and arms. Some bounced off harmlessly, but others lodged in his skin, stinging like molten needles.

“Fuck!” he cried out, wincing as sharp pain shot through his face. The shotgun clattered to the ground, and he covered his face in both shame and pain.

His stomach dropped at the thought, ‘Did I just shoot my fucking eye out?’ He hesitated; terrified to open his eyes, and then felt a familiar presence appear beside him.

“Give him room,” Runemist said.

Her hand settled firmly on his shoulder, and her mending ability took hold. A soothing warmth spread through him, tingling faintly.

He heard soft plops as the pellets worked their way out of his skin, landing on the fallen leaves at his feet.

Wedge stood over them as the mender worked. “I thought you said you knew how to use a firearm.”

“I do.” Dylan frowned, testing one eye at a time. “Well, I did… Magic makes it a lot more complicated than point and shoot.”

Runemist opened her mouth to chastise him, but her gaze darted past Wedge. In a fluid motion, she pushed past him; her steps quick and deliberate as she sprinted toward Ostello.

“Brace!” Runemist commanded.

Ostello raised an arm, bracing himself for the slash he couldn’t avoid. The attack hit with a sickening crunch, tearing through his armor and sending green rivulets of blood streaking down his arm.

The flow stopped almost immediately, his body knitting itself back together as he healed in response to following her command.

“Time to let the big guy out,” Runemist said. She stood beside Ostello, summoning her forearm blades again.

Ostello clenched his jaw, his fists trembling at his sides, unwilling to back down from the galizine. “But I can do this.”