The Ghost Fire rampaged outward like a ravenous wildfire through a drought stricken forest. Decayed flesh burned to ash, and shackled souls incinerated away from the astral plane. The undead sensed the shift in the fight because now more souls were being hurled into the fray. The Brotherhood marines clutched at their ears as the keening wails of the dead caused them agony.

Akamori missed his armor. Being able to shut out the soul’s screams left him with a strange sensation of imagined tinnitus. Several banshees battered the defenders as revenants and specters raced ahead to claim victims. A marine lurched forward like a puppet with half its strings broken and threw himself into the saw blades. He made no scream.

Another turned his weapon on his squad mates before Sgt. Corthon put him down. Ammo was becoming a scarce resource for the survivors who were relying more on the defensive emplacements. The magic turrets ran on aureoliam batteries. The Artificers explained that during a sustained siege, those weapons could fire nonstop for a month. That claim was being tested heavily.

The first wave of turrets were doing a decent job of holding back the specters that tried to charge ahead. Puffs of green smoke heralded the deaths of many maligned souls. That changed when the specters began targeting the turrets themselves, signaling a shift in tactics beyond the zerg swarm methods they’d been using. The first series of emplacements were overwhelmed and torn apart several hours into the fighting.

Exhaustion was becoming just as dangerous an enemy as the undead they were fighting. Especially for the zeros from the Brotherhood. Lacking magic, they ran into the wall far sooner, and had to rely on stims and hope. When the stims wore out, hope would soon follow it.

The marines were down to half strength. Akamori checked on them between tearing through corpses. Each glance back made his stomach twist into knots more and more. Helios teleported to the rear of the defensive line with the rest of the squad. Sirsir and Sala dealt with corpses still clinging to his hide while Helios and Yasiin continued to send attacks down range.

“This isn’t working. We need another plan!” Sgt. Corthon shouted.

“I hate saying this, but I agree,” Akamori said.

A burst of void magic and he reemerged next to her from behind the lines. He sent them through the blast doors and resealed them. This level of opposition wasn’t a threat to him as much as they were to the others. Especially the marines.

“What are you doing?!”

“Completing the mission.”

“You can’t!”

Sala approached and gently restrained Sgt. Corthon. “It’s ok. The Lt. has this. We’d just get in his way, and everyone needs a break.”

The sergeant gave her men a once over. Half her squad was dead or shuffling around out there. They needed sleep, medicine, and food. Akamori had grown beyond mortal failings. He could hold the line. She gave him a concerned look only to find quiet acceptance. He wasn’t offering himself up because it was the cool thing to do. He was the only one who could. Even the draconic Helios was tired and hung from Sirsir’s shoulder.

“Ok. But we all go back in 4 hours.”

“Eight.” Akamori asserted. There was a touch of divinity in his aura that brooked no further negotiating or defiance. She simply nodded.

“Eight hours. Then we’ll be back.” Sgt. Corthon then saluted him.

“Make the most of it.” Akamori said, giving her a half-hearted return salute.

When the blast doors sealed again, he saw the myriad wards reactivate on the doors. Likely to keep the spirits out. He glided up into the air and settled back down in the grasping, cold hands of the dead. They reached out to him eagerly, biting and gnawing at him like a tough piece of meat that refused to feed them.

“Really could use that second miracle about now.”

No answer.

“Seriously? Silence? Because that’s fucking cute.”

“You are a god. Even at such a low rank, these enemies should prove a mere trifle to deal with. So deal with them.” Death’s voice resonated.

“I prayed to you for help.”

“And you have it. But the extent of my help is yet to come and not a moment sooner.” Death replied cooly.

Akamori grumbled as he clapped his hands together, turning a pair of zombie heads into cold, smashed mush. He shook the fetid goop from his hands before resuming his attack. Getting no help meant he was in here alone. He noticed another shift in the dead as they halted. Then a large pile of them fell into each other like debris falling into a singularity. Flesh morphed and twisted.

In a matter of moments, the unending wall of dead had been morphed into a company of flesh abominations that were as large as it could make them within reason. Akamori could sense amusement on the wind, no doubt the necromancer’s doing. He muttered curses under his breath. Akamori back peddled slightly as he studied his opponents. All of them hulking monstrosities with macabre proportions. They looked like stuffed parodies of weight lifters that had too much stuffing in some places, and not enough in others.

“Well, if that isn’t a set of faces on a grandmother could love,” he mused dryly.

They are going to attempt to overwhelm you so they can tear into the bunker.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Bahumet was the wisest of those tethered to his soul. He was also the most battle experienced. From what Akamori knew, Bahumet was his previous incarnation in the system. Did that mean every time they spoke, he was talking to himself?

In a manner of speaking. Technically no, but also yes.

He couldn’t help the corner of his lip curling up at that. Even in a situation as horrible as this, he could still find some levity. Maybe that’s what was keeping him from tipping off the ledge and going full tilt crazy with everything going on. He knew his life was anything but normal. But then, neither is what happened to New Xinjia.

Get ready. They’re making their attack!

Five flesh abominations advanced on him. One swung a fist the size of a box truck. He ducked under the attack easily, with enough time to strike up into its elbow, and shattered the joint alongside dislocating the joint. Ghost Fire exploded outwards from the impact, covering the abomination instantly. He didn’t have time to follow up as a wrecking ball sized fist crashed into his back. Wind whipped through his hair as he careened into the far wall. Metal squealed with his impact into the wall.

Peeling himself out of it just in time, a massive hand seized his head, the contact igniting the hand in ghost fire. The offending abomination then whipped him around, smashing him into the ground several times. His vision went spotty with bright spots as darkness pushed in at the edges. Everything ached, and he was pretty certain he had some broken ribs.

An abomination lumbered after him as one made for the main door. It pressed a massive foot into the saw blade defenses and flattened the blade. Sparks and smoke screeched from the narrow slit in the floor. Akamori strained as he got back up to his feet. Dread bloomed like a thorny rose in the pit of his stomach.

They intend to breach. We have to stop them.

“I’m trying.” Akamori grunted.

Fire flashed in his chest with each drawn breath. Every movement felt like he was being impaled by red hot fire place pokers. The Abomination at the main door grew large boney spikes from its meat club of a hand, then rammed them into the door. If he was going to stop it, now was the time.

“One step at a time, Aka. That’s how we persevere.” His father’s voice echoed in his mind’s ear.

He nodded and took a pained, limping step forward. Followed by another. And another. With each step, they increased stride and speed until he was in a full sprint. His body protested with raw white hot pain that would have had him blacked out were he not a true god now.

He mixed in short teleporting hops to gain more speed until finally he appeared next to the abomination who wore a large grin, the Necromancer’s direct influence no doubt. Thanaton appeared in Akamori’s hand, instantly summoned. In a blinding flash, the blade came down, whistling as it cut the air, the flesh, and bone of the Abomination, severing the arm cleanly at its elbow.

An instant of confusion settled into the abomination’s face as it brought the stump up to study. Akamori was already spinning, channeling fire and air magic to stay aloft and augment his strength. His foot whipped around like a supersonic wrecking ball that caught the Abomination square in the face just an instant before it muttered a resigned and raspy “oh.”

Its head exploded in a cloud of dark ichor and gore that splattered over the relatively untarnished defensive perimeter fallback line. The body toppled over as Akamori landed on both feet. The pain was still there, but his mind was already beginning to compartmentalize it, pushing it away to some distant back corner of his mind, effectively shutting it off.

He flicked a small void bolt into the hanging stump on the door, burning it away into motes of particles that flurried away like a light dusting of snow. The abominations formed a line. Their faces a cruel mockery of each other as they spoke in a united, raspy breath.

“We’re going to open that door and feed on your friends. Then we’re going to dance on your corpse, raise you, and make a mockery of you. You are nothing little god, but a speed bump in our way.”

“Maybe. but you’re just a workout session. This is just another Thursday.”

“It’s not Thursday?” the wall of abominations said in unison.

“That’s not the point.” Akamori said testily. “Bottom line is you’re nothing new. Just the latest in a line of pain in the asses I’ve had to deal with.”

The Abominations smirked as one before all but one rushed forward. One of them brandished a massive bone sword that made Thanaton look like an oversized needle in comparison. Akamori smirked at the weapon.

“Compensating much?”

“Says the godling with the smaller weapon.”

The bone sword cut through the air with a loud hiss as it mashed into the deck plates. It was heavy and ugly, with barely an edge to it. It was less a weapon and more like a massive block of bone with a barely defined edge to it. Spinning around, the point of impact and bringing Thanaton down on the wrists of the abomination before jumping up and riding a short gust of air back.

“Yeah, well, you know what they say. It’s not the size, but how ya use it.”

He watched as the handless abomination burned to ash, flailing on the ground before another abomination took up the weapon with a grunt. This one’s head was misshapen and positioned a little too close to its right shoulder. It made Akamori uncomfortable to look at.

This was his crucible, though. He had to beat these beasts back so his people and the rest of the survivors had a chance. If he gave up now? This whole mission was a wash, and they might lose the Brotherhood’s support in the war. Everything was riding on him, being able to hold the line.

But gods did he hurt. To move. To breathe. All of it was just pain. It was getting to a point he couldn’t remember not hurting. He wanted this to just end.

He glanced back at the doors. The twin holes punched into it by the bones. He couldn’t stop, though. Not yet. Not while they needed him.

Gods damned, did it smell horrible in here too. They’d dropped so many dead bodies in here that the deck was slick with gore and the air hung with a stench. All of it culminated in one simple thought. He missed home. A home that no longer existed, nor did the innocent young man that lived there so long ago. Now he was a true god, and it was time to act like it and save these people.

“So start saving them, Aka.” he told himself. Because the first step in manifestation was seeing what you wanted, then willing it to happen. Right?

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