The host erupted in cheers and prayers for the souls of those poor slayers. A distinguished gentleman, which is what we call people who have gone gray, left the ranks along with Gary Whitecrest, Solemn Declaration, Yvain, and Hemt T. Elf. That aesthetically eclectic group impressed the slayers, one member of it in particular. The one in the middle.

“They got horses that are people! It wasn't just advertising that CoH is the ultimate new era fantasy. We're falling behind.” A wide, purple-haired guy wearing a broad scabbard more trapezoidal in shape than normal marveled at Solemn Declaration. Other slayers pointed to Serdon Miloz, Kindo, Serdon Miloz again, Smidgen, and Fusberta, marveling at their fantasticality.

Skay Pact Elizonas did not marvel. He unsheathed his blade, ruler-thin and bookshelf-long, the sort of shelves used to hold books the owners want to have at hand. It seemed to slice the air around it as it shimmered with silver light. The other three had weapons too.

Hilliarde Feablas held out his hand and summoned his orb, the ancient relic few could control and fewer master. It floated above his palm, remaining in place when he pulled his hand away. That counted as an invitation in Skay's country, and his form quivered and disappeared as he used the sort of technique any swordsman has to practice if he wants respect. He reappeared within a swords-length of Hilliarde Feablas and slashed, not at the officer but at the orb.

“Myrioi Eruption.” The orb split into countless shards, and seeing the surprise of all the slayers, the officers themselves felt surprise at anyone being surprised by that. They saw it in the background of fifty percent of all videos uploaded by Commandment of Hero content creators and one hundred percent of the ones about which officers would most improve new accounts.

The slayers struggled with all their skill to avoid the fates of the enemies in all those videos. Adrian's blades whirled and knocked back shards, Listeria crouched behind a sheet of glowing metal taller and wider than she, Skay blinked in and out of sight, and Stanley performed a live reenactment of the aforementioned videos. Beowulf tried to narrate, dropping skill names such as Determined Deflection and Forgeborn Endurance.

“Inefficient. They should shout their skills for us.”

“Christmas Lash!”

“Yes. Like that.”

“Invigorating Placebo!”

The officers agreed with Mentor Tendradius Pux. How much easier it was to follow the fight when they knew when Hemt T. Elf was really giving it to them instead of normal giving it to them, or when Gary Whitecrest had applied his powerful buff suite that could not be dispelled but inflicted debuffs on his allies after its duration expired! How much more thrilling was the fight, and how complete the information available to gamblers! That particular fight saw little gambling action, since nobody wanted to bet against Powerarde Creepblas in order to make things interesting for onlookers. Just as Kindo floated the idea of betting on the fight's length instead of the winner, the Marks of Myrioi detonated.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Aaaaah!” Stanley Sten Stonell succumbed to the invaders' power loudest of his group, yet the more stoic members withstood the assault no better than he. The host shouted its joy and condolences, and the gloom spreading over the slayers thinned a little when they realized their enemies considered Hilliarde to be their number one guy.

“Of those who came,” Asmodeus added.

Knight-Master Gralles Alianura said, “True. Whatever young Tiboleus is up to now, he must surely be doing it most impressively.”

Somewhere unreachably far, a Warper stared at himself and frowned. “I can't get over how short I am. I always knew, but looking at it is different.”

Dosellian Urapta reached down to pat the UTAS's little head. “These developers are cunning. They have provided themselves opportunities here and there for future alts, such as Older Tiboleus and Younger Clazdius, which they may exercise or not depending on popularity.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Oh? I wondered who would be speaking in the main hall. It was my impression you two were out farming.”

“We are indeed, Adigail Zem.” Dosellian bowed. “Only, Tiboleus here killed the dragon so fast, the results screen has not yet caught up, allowing us leisure for a brief break.”

“Gracious me!”

“Ugh. So short. We'd better get back. Later!”

The fallen slayers unfallened themselves, and while Stanley leaned on his arms as step one in the complex standing procedure he said, “You walloped us pretty good. From the damage His Princeness over there was taking, what are you, Light or Dark?”

“I shall check.” Hilliarde's eyes looked somewhere far from the orb as it reformed above his outstretched hand. “Yes, I do appear to be Light in this game. At home, I am of the Eclipse element.”

“Light as well, Holy in the normal course, though I hesitate to say that of myself,” Yvain reported.

“Ice rather than Flood. Fair enough,” said Solemn Declaration.

Gary, for his part, scratched his head behind his ear and under his hat. “Wind? Must not have anything like Quake here. I don't mean to say there's anything wrong with Storm. They're fine folks, most of them.”

“Although it's a crying disappointment, a shameful shame, that I don't end up as Light when I started Eclipse, I can't honestly pretend not to comprehend why I'm Ice in my winter version,” Hemt said. “Inferno is so far out of the question you can't even put a question mark anywhere near it. It'll burn up and fall off!”

Skay Pact Elizonas had not reacted to his loss with anything more than a “Tch,” but the result of his foes' internal examinations staggered him. He strove to control himself, to narrow his wide eyes and master his unruly feet that stepped back and almost tripped. He succeeded, brought one knuckle up to his mouth, uttered “Your elements are savagely cool,” and left the field for the next team.

“You, too, can be an Eclipse! Or a Flood! Anything your heart desires!” Lua shouted after him. She started to follow, but her fellows pulled her back. Later, they promised. Later.

“That's one for you,” said Alvin Renzis.

“Oh, you're keeping count? I respect the optimism. Some of us could learn something from you. Not me, though. I'm always optimistic. Next team!” Quircy Rau flung her hands toward the slayers and waited.

“Yeah, uh, let me think, Orston! Show them how good you are at being in fights.”

“Good speech. I'm fired up!” The wide guy ran up and sent the polar bear to Spin City, a place found somewhere in Dust and Highway. He backed off to unsheathe his sword, which had been forged by some deranged elismith who liked novelty and hated convention. Its blade, not as wide as its wielder but chunky compared to most swords outside of Always Leveling Titan, consisted of two halves joined by a hinge, one with the hilt and the other with the point. Orston Cuy, cousin of Alvin Renzis, shook his sword out, locked the two halves in place, and brandished a complete and enormous two-handed sword, broader than internet comedy and longer than T**** o* C********'s period of service.

The wheel stopped. “Odo,” Alvin called, and the attackers gasped.