“Healers! Where are the healers?”

Lilly knelt beside a dying old man, a fish vendor she knew only as Chent. His eyes were fluttering, a low moan emanating from somewhere deep within him. Lilly had both hands pressed against his shoulder, trying to stop the relentless flow of blood. She stared dully at his arm, lying a few feet away, somehow bloodless.

Healers weren’t going to save him, Lilly knew. But she couldn’t just let him die. She had to at least try to save him.

Only a minute or two had passed since the monster had plowed through City Center, leaving an inconceivable amount of carnage and chaos in its wake. Rumors were buzzing around her that this hadn’t been the only such attack, and that there were dozens of similar monsters rampaging though the entire city. Lilly desperately wanted to clear the streets as soon as possible, in case it—or a different one—returned. But the fear and pandemonium swirling around her was nearly overwhelming.

And she had Chent to worry about. She had no idea if he had family. Had no idea if he would even regain consciousness. And if healers were coming, would there be enough of them? How high of a priority would an obviously mortally wounded man be, with so many more injured everywhere she looked?

Lilly’s memory flashed back to the Godknight, who had acted so strangely just minutes before the monster appeared. He had always been able to somehow sense danger. Why had he left right before the monster—the danger—showed up? His panicked expression, the way he had looked in every direction before finally flying away north... Had he been indecisive? Or were there too many threats arising at once for him to pick just one? And if there were, what place in Brightholme was more important than the center of the capital city?

Lilly looked for any sign of the healers, her eyes darting around what remained of the square. What she saw was a warzone, something she had only read about in old academic scripts. She never expected to actually see one, let alone her city become one. People were crying, the cries of the dying or wounded.

But people were also coming to each other’s aid. That gave her at least a little hope. A little.

And what about her father? The City Center was huge, with a clear path of destruction running straight through its heart. Godknight Tower remained untouched, but the buildings and vendor carts the beast had charged through were in ruins. She could see Elder Hall depending on where she was standing in the square, but this wasn’t such a spot. Should she be worried about his safety?

If the Godknight wasn’t coming back right away, and the beasts came back before him, did her father and the other Elders have an alternative means of defense? She grumbled in frustration; she knew the answer to that question, of course. It was no. They had put all their faith in one “man.” None more than her father.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

New screams rang out. People started scattering again.

Lilly scanned her surroundings, trying to determine where the source of this new commotion was coming from. She saw movement, an unidentified mass advncing towards the square, following right along the path the monster had tread.

The mass quickly began to take form: men and women, moving in formation, all wearing black armor. The front line carried long, pointed poles and began spreading out in a line across the square.

Behind them, many more. The front line pole-bearers took two steps apart, spreading out further and leaving space between each pair. More soldiers—who appeared to be unarmed—flowed steadily through with calm confidence and practiced ease.

That’s it, then, she thought. I was right. It’s an invasion. Her instincts had been correct. Unfortunately, she hadn’t trusted those instincts enough to act on them. She had just assumed she would have time to investigate.

Lilly’s heart hammered in her chest, her adrenaline surging. Every instinct screamed at her to run. But Chent was still moaning. Still alive. If she left him here alone, there would be no chance for him. None at all.

Then she saw something that completely baffled her: what seemed like a sheath of metal extended up and out from one of the soldier’s bracers. The bracer was long and made of metal, covering half of his forearm. The sheath of metal grew perpendicular to his wrist, about a foot long. It fell onto his hand and seemed to melt over his fist. When it was done, his fist was covered in a thick metal hull.

She looked up and down the line of soldiers; they were all repeating the same action. Each had metal-covered fists as their primary weapon. Some, she observed, even had their knuckles fortified with spikes.

This was not good.

The fear—and common sense—finally got to her. She stood up to run.

But a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She looked down at Chent, whose eyes were wide and terrified.

“What… what’s happened?”

“Shh,” she said to him. “Just… just wait for the healers to get here. They’ll help you.”

“You’re not… leaving me… are you?”

Damn. The words came out in short croaks. The voice of a dying man. She looked back over her shoulder; the soldiers were moving through the square now, forcing people to the ground. Someone shoved a soldier and the soldier slammed him with his metal fist. Even from across the square, Lilly could hear the dull crack of his skull, and knew he was dead.

One punch, and dead.

The sight disgusted and enraged her. She turned back to Chent’s frightened eyes, and knew her decision was made. She smiled down at him and put her hand on his, offering what comfort she could. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.”