Fresh troops trudged out of the fort to waylay yet another wave of spawned monsters.

The soldiers, a motley bunch of condemned thieves, unwanted degenerates and fallen nobles, poured into the darkening outer field of the fort's garrison.

As they waded through mire and fog towards the last stand of an earlier wave, new recruits could be heard muttering desperate prayers under their breath.

The waning twilight cast a dim outlook on the visage of blood and gore, stealing away both light and courage. So mangled were the bodies before them, few could tell one figure from another.

Some wept. Many puked. A few dared to smile, as they inwardly cursed the Gods that brought them to such a forsaken place.

Overhead, at the far-flung reaches of the southern pole, the lights of a magical rift danced, entrancing the men who saw it for the first time.

At its core, was the Chasm, a dense mass of black light. From its maw, strange creatures spewed forth, driven by their thirst for the blood of the living, slaughtering everything in their path.

The origins of the Chasm remain unknown, but most acknowledge that it had suddenly appeared three hundred years ago as a vast, ever-expanding void, poised to engulf the world.

"Steady! Steady yourselves!" yelled a distant voice, waking them from their stupor.

A retinue of mounted knights punctured the fog at breakneck speed, only to grind to a halt at the cusp of the frontline.

A herald arrived first and rode up the length of their formation, trumpet in hand. "Be at ease! Be at ease! Stand anew and hail the Lord Commander, Cedric Stonehelm!"

A massive, grizzled knight dismounted from a white gelding. His tousled silver hair, blood-stained silver armor, and deep blue eyes — which glinted with an unrelenting fierceness — put the soldiers on edge.

He handed a battered kite shield to a squire, who promptly fell down, before calling for assistance from another squire. The embarrassed duo lurched towards the backline where trolleys stacked with rickety spears and dented shields were loosely assembled.

Veteran soldiers paused to take a swig of alcohol, having swapped out water for booze. The most long-lived preferred to regale themselves with edible stimulants.

The youngest faces merely trembled amid the wintry air, their hearts a cacophony, their eyes lost to a dreaded future.

Cedric appraised the men keenly, taking stock of their numbers and general condition. The fact that they all made it past the first line of the battlefield — a nightmarish field of mangled corpses and blood-soaked earth — with their spirits intact and a willingness to move forward, was a good sign.

Good enough to win this round.

"We will continue..." Before he could elaborate, the naysayers began to hiss and whine. Cedric merely stared them down, letting the cold eat away at their rebellious thoughts.

For those unwilling to pursue a fight, he had no qualms about ordering them to stand in place. They could die on their feet, in the midst of battle, or die on their knees, slowly freezing to death.

"... Ahead of us is the Frozen Lagoon. For those yet to taste the throes of the south, it is not as bad as it sounds, despite the damnable cold. But watch out for wet earth and cracked ice, lest you meet an unworthy end."

He lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed southward. "Further is the Red Fissure: a sulfurous volcano. It lies dormant, but a measly spurt is enough to drown a dozen of you in molten lead."

A round of anxious gulps told Cedric that his words were well-headed.

"To reach the Chasm, we would have to pass by the Red Fissure, but there's no reason to go that far. We just need to mow down enough of the spawn to keep them at bay."

Cedric paused to measure his next few words, before shaking his head in dismay. "There's no nice way to describe what you will be fighting." He signaled to one of the knights, who dragged a still-living beast, its arms and legs tied to a stake.

"This is a spineclaw," he spat. "An abyssal creature you will see more often than your own mother."

The writhing beast was covered in sparse tufts of black and brown fur. Its notably curved spine connected to spiky bone protrusions at the ends of its knees, elbows, and shoulders.

"This ugly little thing is normally half a man's height, and about twice as strong. For the able-bodied among you, perhaps just a little bit stronger."

Regardless of how many men stood before it, the monstrosity showed no hint of wariness. It gazed upon the troops with greedy fervor, blood and spittle dripping down from a perpetual scowl. Armed with pointed claws on its hands and feet, it came across as ghoulish and otherworldly.

Cedric reached out and clamped a hand around its neck, visibly choking it.

"Take a gander at its reddened skin. You can see the ridges of its spine are covered in blue sores. Cold exposure dampens their senses and weakens them greatly. Use momentum to pin them down and strike at their manes."

Contrary to his own instructions, Cedric did not deal the final blow with his blade. He simply squeezed harder and watched the spineclaw choke on its own saliva. In its final moment, the beast's skin lit up like a torch. A whiff of burnt flesh filled the air, before its whole body turned to ash.

"They aren't from this world," Cedric intoned, his hand now grasping at nothing. "Perhaps their souls return to whoever summoned them... or whatever pit of hell they crawled out of."

His eyes seemed to gaze further into the unknown as if the future itself lay before him.

"This should be the last time," he whispered to himself, before nodding at the men whose blank stares showed a mix of surprise and wariness.

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Lifting his regal sword, the flawless, rubied saber that marked the Lord of the Fort, Cedric shouted, "We shall continue! Onwards!"

"For the fort!" the men cried, as they rallied to his side.

An hour-long march brought them to the bed of the Frozen Lagoon. The glittering blanket of ice allowed the men to uneasily make their way towards the glowing Chasm lights in the distance.

At first, the troop split into neat orderly rows as they moved, but they soon found themselves clambering around ice pockets, as each man took to whatever path could provide safe footing.

A trembling sensation suddenly spread across the ice, cracking its surface.

"Hold! Hold your position!" With his saber pointed upward, Cedric motioned the troop to a halt.

A scout arrived a moment later, out of breath and half-soaked in icy water, having clearly had an earlier misstep. "Spineclaws incoming... they're riding abyssal chargers. Around forty of them."

Cedric let out a low whistle. "That's too damned many! We took on quite a few this morning... what has hell wrought upon us today?"

He lifted his head to gaze upon the shimmering aurora above. The black dot it enclosed was darker than black as if it birthed the night.

"Your orders sir?" the scout inquired.

With a sigh, Cedric settled his distracted mind.

"Lead the way, Harding. Mark a path for our men. We have about three hundred or so now and I want just as many to return home alive and whole."

Harding drew his cowl back. Leftover claw streaks besmirched an otherwise handsome face. He let out an uneasy smile, showing off a full set of eerily white teeth.

"They're mostly novices my Lord. The losses will be heavy."

"And it's Tuesday. What else is new?"

Harding glanced at the shifting ranks before him and shook his head in dismay. He abruptly turned around and yelled, "For the Fort!"

"For the Fort!" the men rejoined, resuming the march.

Cedric's thoughts slunk back to when he was summoned to the Fort. The challenges he faced then, were as bad as they were now.

Like the convulsions of a dying world, the monsters born from the Abyss were spat out at random intervals. And as the chasm grew, so did the average size of each wave.

A single wave is its own deadly reign of terror. Usually a small contingent, but if left alone, the magic a few beasts wielded, could eventually summon a veritable army.

Looking back at the recruits, Cedric felt both guilty and hopeful. "Is this my legacy?" he muttered, "A world of pain and loss?"

The swirling fog gradually parted to reveal a wave of spineclaws riding unusually lean steeds distinguished by their midnight blue coats. They bled out of the night, their plodding hooves nearly silent.

The lord of the fort began bellowing orders ceaselessly, but the men, half-struck by fear, simply threw themselves at the incoming wave.

With his mounted guard in tow, the Lord himself was the first to engage the abyssal knights.

Despite their moniker, spineclaws on horseback had no armor or weapons, save for their claw-tipped hands. Nor did they have any reins to keep them astride. At each clash, they would leap off their horse-like aberrations onto the nearest opponent.

Cedric merely waved his sword, slashing the spineclaws in half whilst they were in mid-air, flecks of ash raining down his silver armor.

The abyssal chargers were fierce opponents, but without barding, they were easily felled by even the least trained soldiers. However, the slippery ice made many fall, and the unholy steeds would occasionally bash in someone's head, leaving a pulpy red mess in their wake.

"Another wave incoming!" Harding warned, before slaying a leaping spineclaw and its mount in quick succession.

Beyond the fray, a shaft of red light shot up into the sky. Within its hellish glow, the night air simmered, belching out exactly ten more Abyssal Knights.

"Find the damn summoning stone! They'll overrun us at this rate!" Cedric kept rallying the men, coordinating their movements as best he could.

A moment later, one of the soldiers, a head taller than the rest, ran ahead of his squad. He reached into his tattered overcoat and brought out a glowing, brass cylinder. Twisting the gears, he held up the flask and yelled, "Steamfire!"

The flask, still in his grip, spat out colorful whisps of steam, rising in intensity and heat as it flickered from red to orange to a swelling torrent of yellow sparks. The lanky man threw the flask into an oncoming throng of abyssal knights.

The steamfire flask erupted with a clack, then a boom. Magical flames devoured the encroaching beasts while shrapnel shot out in all directions, shredding anything within a dozen yards of its blast radius.

Cedric dismounted and carved his way through several foes to meet the heroic figure, whose minced body now lay on the ground, soaked in blood, the steely ice, his deathbed.

"A steamfire flask? When did we invent this?"

A dozen other men, or rather what was left of them, were strewn about, having been caught in the aftermath.

"It's effective..." he muttered. "A little too effective."

A purple glimmer caught his eye. Cedric knelt and dug through a mixture of ice, lead, and half-melted human flesh. His search earned him a large, violet-colored gemstone, big enough to fill his hand.

"The heck is this?"

Harding reappeared, his grim smile gone. "My Lord, we haven't found the summoning stone. And what you have there... I've never seen anything like it."

After a brief pause, Cedric decided to share his thoughts. "There is something magical about this little rock. Maybe it could help shift the tides in our favor. Perhaps some research could unlock its secrets."

Harding merely grunted in reply, showing little interest as Cedric carefully put away the glowing violet gemstone in an inner coat pocket beneath his breastplate.

With his voice raised, Cedric urged the troops to continue. "We have to find that summoning stone. They'll keep coming until we secure it. We must capture the summoning stone, no matter the cost! Onwards!"

"For the Fort!"

As they carried on, clouds of ash formed above, brought in from afar, a greeting gift from a waning volcano. Red flashes continued to flicker within their line of sight.

Cedric charged ahead, his target set. The guard knights kept pace right behind him. Not long afterward they encountered another ten-member wave of abyssal knights and mowed them down swiftly.

The troops on foot arrived soon after and tended to the straggling beasts.

Cedric dashed forward to confront a particularly large spineclaw. It was even more nimble than its peers despite racing along on foot, unencumbered by several spears embedded in its chest.

And unlike most spineclaws, this oddity wasn't aggressive. It darted around squads of soldiers, slashing here and there, before retreating to the ranks of its brethren.

Cedric eyed it keenly and noticed that there was a faint glow around its back. Nearing its figure, he tried to draw in a strike, but it darted away a moment before he could tie it down in a melee.

Leaping off his horse, Cedric reached out his palm, grabbed it by the heel, and easily floored the big spineclaw with raw strength.

Pinned down, the beast tried to twist free but couldn't. Without warning, it tore out a spear from its own chest. Rather than stab its opponent, the unruly spineclaw wielded the shaft like a club, trying to break Cedric's steel bracer.

The spear broke instead. And to the Lord's surprise, the beast pulled yet another spear from its chest and tried again. It kept going at a maddening pace, breaking every spear it could pry out of its own body, to no avail.

Blood poured out of the punctures in its chest, turning into an icy red paste.

Delirious, the spineclaw writhed maddeningly, making it hard for Cedric to hold on, but he managed to retain his grip, dragging it across the sharp ice, until it bled out and remained perfectly still.

Cedric unsheathed a wrist knife with his free hand and took to skinning its back. He uncovered a massive summoning stone. Larger than any he had ever seen.

As the nexus stone was removed, the red lights ceased, and the big spineclaw turned to ash. Harding appeared at his side, as timely as ever.

Cedric smiled. Harding leaped back, seemingly caught in a nightmare where the lord of the fort actually smiled.

"It's time."

Harding couldn't contain his curiosity. "What is it time for, Lord Stonehelm?"

Cedric rose to his feet and surveyed the battle as it came to a close.

A boyish squire rushed to his side, his face smeared in blood. "We tried to save as many as we could. Fifty dead. Nearly twice as many injured."

Cedric turned to gaze at the Chasm that tore through the earth and sky, a wound on the mortal plane.

He spoke absentmindedly, caught in a premonition of the future. The troops strained to listen, but couldn't hear the words that would forever change them.

"It's time... to summon the new Lord of the Fort."