The surge of electricity faded slowly. I raised my eyebrows and took stock, feigning calm and incredulity while my thoughts raced. It felt like a fog had been lifted, clouding my mind as far back as memory stretched.

Why would I submit? Why would I conform to those lesser than me? What else mattered but power? My so-called affliction proved it. An addiction to the rush of battle and excitement? Preposterous. It was my birthright, calling to me. Everything was clear now. They feared me, why else cage me so? Because I was more than them, more than they could ever be. Pretending to be my allies only to hold me back… No, to hold me down.

Two could play the game of lies. One of those in the circle of ridicule taunted me. “What are you waiting for? This is going to take long enough as it is.”

I deceived. “Uhm, I think I’m done? Not feeling much different, aside from doing my best impression of a million bucks.” Imperfect, I should not have boasted and made a mental note to vigilantly refrain from affirming my obvious superiority. “Should probably still keep me here for a bit just to be safe though, maybe there’s a time lag or something?” It was agony, but I endured. Their lacking intelligence fell behind, surprise and confusion evident on their faces.

“You pulling my leg? Everyone goes mad. We’re keeping you in for now.”

I didn’t credit his cautiousness since it was born of stupidity. The imbecile didn’t know what to do, thus it did nothing. I suffered continuous small talk with the other gawkers, building rapport until they called our so-called leader, in name only, to check in on me. I waved.

“Hey there.” My tone mirrored the one used when approaching her while she read Kris’ infantile letters.

“Hi, so you’re all there?” She wanted to hear me say it as a sign of submission. Fine.

“Think so, no madness far as I can tell, really need to take a piss though. Maybe some lingering ‘hubris’ as Walt would call it, feel like I could break every personal record I’ve ever set.” Best to sprinkle some half-truths in with the lies.

“I see. This is unusual indeed. Well, I suppose we could let you out.” A test.

“Eh, better safe than sorry. Not like I have to be anywhere.” The joke did little to disarm her suspicions.

I embraced the boredom of inane chatter and sprinkled humor in between light-hearted conversation, then tried again after getting a few laughs out of her.

“Ehm, this is a bit awkward but… Do you guys mind giving a man some privacy?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s fine, let him out.”

I won and excused myself, making distance and pretending to relieve myself. Then headed for my tent and grabbed the pipe in the crate outside and lit up near it. Trailing spies watched my every movement, failing to stay unnoticed. They were nearly spurred to action by my seeming attempt to beeline for and enter the tent – despite her many inadequacies, she was a shrewd one.

Supposedly laying down to stargaze, I shifted a little and purposefully lost the delicate vertical balance of my pipe, partially spilling its contents over my own face. In the chaos of exaggerated movement that followed, I kicked out and swept my foot by the tents’ wall, successfully snatching three of the swords leaning against it through the canvas into my sheath skill. Armed, but not yet dangerous. Next, I needed energy.

I wandered around camp while smoking and making small talk, looking for opportunity and finding none. Finally out of options, I stretched and faked a yawn and made my way back to my tent, this time entering it. After laying down, I gave it a good ten minutes before ever so slowly using controlled swords to snatch one of my bracers. As I greedily felt for the coin lodged on the inside, a voice sounded from outside. Jerry. No coin, of course.

“Looking for something?” he said.

“Actually, yes, someone stole all my money. Also what the fuck are you doing?”

“Confirming suspicions.”

“Well, do it somewhere else.” I made to get up and eyed his backlit silhouette through the fabric. Close enough to stab but that was a suboptimal course of action. “Or stay here, whatever, I don’t care. I have a theft to report.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. The theft I mean. I have your ‘money’ right here.” He held the outline of a coin between index finger and thumb, clearly visible thanks to the campfire backdrop.

“Well great, give it back then and let me get some rest.”

There was no point to this anymore. I hoped to draw out the deception a little longer, but gave up upon hearing the single syllable of his reply, then materialized a sword into my hand and aimed a stab at his face, setting all my might into it while tearing through the fabric. Naturally, it was a feint. My true objective was to tackle him and snatch the coin in the confusion, worsened by the constantly appearing and disappearing swords. He parried the strike easily, yet reacting to the false threats resulted in plenty of wasted movement. I grabbed hold and dragged him down with me, then failed as he resisted.

Yet it was enough to make avoiding the threat of my autonomous blades difficult. It gave me the needed window of opportunity and allowed me to touch the coin for an instant, immediately absorbing it. I laughed victoriously at an icy crack and the sight of the coin crumbling away. My vitality surged, I recovered and back-stepped twice before it even finished disintegrating. Jerry failed to realize the significance, completely oblivious to his mortal peril.

I pointed a finger at him and the instrument of his end appeared at the tip, gentle spinning around the axis. “Goodbye, fool.”

Launch, launch, launch, launch, launch, launch, launch, launch, launch, launch.

Nothing happened. I rapidly checked my energy reserves, having recovered one during my wandering around the camp. Now I had… two. I unleashed my rage. He overpowered me after a valiant struggle and once more reduced me to a cageling.

It was a little over an hour later when I dropped the sword on the grass and kicked it out of the cage, hidden away in the confusion of recapture. Sleep took me, sat down, knees pulled up, back leaning against the bars. The madness only lasted a couple of hours, but we’d be playing this one safe for now. Somehow, no nightmares woke me up and they let me out at early dawn.

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Breakfast still felt awkward a couple of days later - mostly for me. No one remembered their insanity but mine remained crystal clear. All the little jabs caused me to cringe each time, rather than shrug. In retrospect, the complete break from reality only made me incredibly stupid. Except for one little bit, I’d been carrying my left arm in something of a strapped sling after it had been broken, but the struggle against Jerry revealed it had already healed. I forced down the tasteless slop and wandered over to the ‘command zone’, some log seats, windbreakers and a makeshift table. The weighed down pile of wrappers containing our battle plans drew my attention, prompting me to review one last time, while having a smoke of course. Command sucks, too much work.

The first wrapper drew out the battlefield. Elias scouted for us, having taken a glimpse before. The terrain favored us at least and our side held the high ground while the nearly flat enemy side only sloped gently upward into a pine forest. We had a nice long hill to hide behind, followed by a manageable incline which leveled out at the river. The opposition, an ‘ice people army’, heavily outnumbered us but milled about randomly, crowded at the water’s edge. They responded aggressively to observation, peppering Elias with a volume of projectiles both physical and magical. He tried several approaches like creeping over the hill, climbing a tree further back and so forth, but the Errant immediately forced him to duck and cover within seconds every time. We tried, but even our stealth guy couldn’t avoid the volleys. Some bullshit was definitely afoot, the ice lancers had disappeared from the northern mining grounds and took the permanent blizzard with them, but the magisteel mounds remained.

The second wrapper listed our available classes. I organized our forces into two core teams, Firebase and Search & Destroy - the names were descriptive and only a token, heavily traumatized, force remained at the Farm to guard our stuff. Ironically, even those scared shitless were still prepared to fight if need be. What other choice was there? Militia training, Kris’ letters and talking with Mel and Jerry gave me an inkling of military acumen. Varying my sources barely helped, they all just parroted whatever insights Kris had shared.

In my opinion, she didn’t quite get it right. Her choices were probably correct for the situation at the time since we had pseudo-civilians and wounded to protect. My strategy suffered different constraints. Most of our available combatants were mages because the fighter types took a beating during the eclipse. True to form, the frontlines ground meat like no other. Everyone also had varying levels of PTSD, with the bad cases relegated to logistics duty.

Team firebase numbered ten in total, primarily mages except for one endurance fighter, with Breathless in command because I trusted him. All hail nepotism. The fighter and one endurance mage were responsible for defense, while the rest focused on blowing shit up and trying not to die. We supplied them with plenty of deployable barricades for cover, towed by the logistics crew, and armed the physical dude with a big fucking shield.

Team SD contained thirteen people, with a far more intricate composition. I put Elias in overall field command, with another endurance fighter - a friend of Jen's - as his second, in case he had to get into the thick of it, and me at third. His disposition left him well-equipped for hard calls and keeping a cool head while his survivability mitigated risks of the chain of command collapsing mid-fight, hence the endurance second. Although SD functioned as one team, we still split it into two elements, the slow and fast movers. My intention to stay mobile further influenced the command structure.

Our fast five included me, an assassin, a binder and two speed fighters. The combination just played out well in practice and all of us moved at speed. The assassin scouted and watched everyones backs and did whatever else he was suited for. It turned out the type of person who chose assassin also vocalized stealth as a skill tag, to absolutely no one’s surprise. The binder locked enemies down while two speed fighters provided ranged firepower, along with me - maybe. Everyone who had the option much preferred ranged combat for some very obvious reasons, but speed fighters were absolutely brutal for an instant in melee as well, should necessity arise.

I bit the bullet of dancing around words and did my background research this time around, so I knew their ability involved transferring built up momentum to an object or even themselves. They sprinted, then threw incredibly hard. The same principle also worked when smacking things hand-to-hand. Either put them at a very sudden dead stop, but high physical speed allowed them to pick up the pace again. The talented, which both of ours were due to survivor bias, could pull off some crazy shit in melee as well. None of us expected any problems jumping the river either.

The slow eight contained Elias and the endurance fighter for defense. Jill and Jeb anchored their flanks – even if power fighters were plenty quick, just in a different way, focusing on explosive movement and long pounces. Viktor brought the ranged precision and an antimage negated any magical crap headed our way. A touchcaster added explosive short range firepower, while a power mage did the same at a distance. Walt was an honorary member, but he’d stay out of the brawl. We only wanted the buff from him anyway.

Communism ensured proper gear for all of us. Jeb carried a one handed hammer and a big shield, whereas Jill took to Kris’ old halberhammeraxe with a passion. Both were armored up the wazoo, although not quite to the level of the magisteel juggernauts that were the two endurance fighters. Those without natural ranged options also carried a fat bundle of javelins. For myself, my usual kit served aside from the two magic swords I’d replaced with similar physical ones, in case any magical defenses needed bypassing.

The third, fourth and fifth wrappers outlined the three phases of our operation.

In phase one, team Firebase, positioned on top of the hill, exchanged ranged fire with the Errant, with the goal of whittling them down and clearing out the bank. They were instructed to avoid using their big spells, kept in reserve for any surprises and to hold potential megalomania in check. Some of them were pretty shell shocked, but hopefully ‘stand there and blow stuff up’ wasn’t too much of an ask. During this phase, team SD waited.

In phase two, we established a beachhead. SD-fast jumped the ten meter wide river while SD-slow moved up. With some luck, no unknown nasties emerged from the waters to complicate the combat-jump. If they did, we’d have to answer with high-magic. Most of the slow squad couldn’t cross unassisted. Some fuckwit suggested making a sling out of ropevine but we shot him down. Instead Jill and Jeb would throw everyone across and then leap, a bit hilarious but quite effective according to our trial testing. This was the hard part for my squad, where we ran interference and drew all possible attention – although I had a ‘plan’ in mind.

In phase three, team Firebase moved up but remained on their side while S ‘n’ D went on a killing spree. If things went to hell in a hand basket then we’d retreat, slow elements crossing first, assisted by suppressing fire from both sides and some serious spells. Depending on how heavily the Errant resisted, we either swept the zone as a group or split the quick from the slow for increased efficiency, clearing a caravannable path.

I stopped staring at the pile, tapped out my pipe, shuffled past the temporary walls and looked around. Preparations were finished. Everyone waited on me, it seemed. By all rights, we should steamroll the Errant on the other side. Team Firebase had settled in at the edge of the ridge, ready to crest it, all neatly lined up behind a line in the mud drawn by Walt. I gave the go-ahead and Operation Cleansing Wave begun. I’d abused my newfound authority to push the name through.

“Light ‘em up boys.”

As the words left my mouth, my ever-building anxiety made room for a pounding in my ears. A sick smile crept up my face and the uneasy tremble plaguing me vanished entirely. It was another reason I needed someone else to give the play-by-play.

I suspected that I would lose myself in the thrill of the fight. Especially since I planned to embrace the rush, had to take my advantages where possible. No more half measures.

I wasn’t wrong.