Mana Soul: Chapter 55 - The Apocalypse - Debby

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The distant screening defences were lost, leaving only the outermost walls constructed the previous year to stand between the oncoming tide and what remained of the people she had sworn to protect.

Looking out from her vantage atop the lookout tower, Debby couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of despair. She had been fighting this war for almost eight years and she felt well and truly defeated by it.

There was no end to the enemy’s numbers. It didn’t matter how many monsters Debby killed, how many dungeons she defeated, there were always more to take their place.

The reality was Debby had been summoned far too late. The world was already doomed before she arrived, Debby had just been delaying the inevitable. To make things worse, her contract had stipulated terms of no more than five years, but five years had come and gone without so much as a peep from her broker.

Gulping down the last of the mead from her drinking horn, Debby briefly contemplated throwing herself from the tower. A quick and relatively painless death, so long as she could suppress her fear and avoid activating her powers. In part, this was why Debby had worked her way through the better part of a barrel to dull her senses. Mostly, it was to forget.

In the beginning, everything had been so new and exciting. A brand new world to explore, a culture to experience and immerse herself in. Debby had considered it something of a holiday. It had taken less than a month for the reality of her situation to assert itself and forcefully change her mind.

Debby still remembered celebrating the spring festival with the villagers. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night to relieve herself only to find her royal escort had been eviscerated, and the true form of the villagers as they closed in around her. Debby had killed them all, but that night changed her, broke something inside of her that she had no idea how to fix. If it could even be fixed at all.

“Ahem,” a short woman with greying red hair and wearing a frayed black robe carefully picked her way around the scattered pieces of Debby’s discarded armour.

Debby gave the elderly woman a brief glance before turning back towards the distant horizon.

“No one would blame you,” the old woman said quietly, her voice warm and empathetic, “But you are the only hope many have left.”

“Hope?!” Debby barked incredulously, “What good is hope now?!” She cried bitterly, “Hundreds of battles and what do we have to show for it?! More dead and still more enemies than we can count!”

“That is true,” the old woman admitted quietly, “But many are alive because of those sacrifices-”

“Sacrifices?!” Debby’s voice broke as she was overwhelmed with grief and rage, “More like slaughter! Do you even know how many times I was the last one left holding the line?! How many men and women I watched being torn to pieces beneath a tide of teeth and claws?! How their screams...Their final screams echo in my head...”

“In twilight's hour, salvation will be found in the heart of the shadow,” the old woman quoted, citing the high priest’s prophecy word for word.

Debby’s lips curled in disgust, “Don’t feed me that zealots propaganda,” she snarled, “You should know by now that it’s nothing more than empty words to placate the masses!”

The old woman was quiet for a few moments, gathering Debby’s armour and propping it up against the battlements. “Perhaps,” she admitted, “Prophecy has always been more a matter of experienced observation and wishful thinking than genuine prescience...” The old woman’s voice changed, becoming deeper, younger, and profoundly authoritative, “However, if it were not so, who would dare cling to hope when darkness abounds?”

Debby warily glanced over her shoulder and very nearly fell over the battlements in fright.

The old woman was gone. In her place stood a giant of a woman with pale white skin, and deep red hair, dressed in a cloak and mantle of large thick black feathers. Staring back at Debby with terrifyingly intense dark eyes, the woman’s blood-red lips smirked in response to Debby’s own discomfort. “It is always easier to dismiss and ridicule an artist in their absence,” she mused, her voice reaching into Debby’s chest and gripping her heart like a vice.

“You-You're The Morrigan!” Debby gasped, as much in shock as pain and discomfort.

The incredibly tall woman gave Debby a condescending look, “Come now, we both know that you should know better.”

Debby bit her tongue despite knowing what the undercover deity meant. All the deities of the universe looked to Earth for inspiration, forming pantheons, alliances and rivalries based upon the folklore of the cultures they transplanted into their worlds. This Morrigan would have once been one of many, potentially hundreds or even thousands-

“Near enough,” the woman who both was and wasn’t The Morrigan replied to Debby’s thoughts with a dark smile, “Although I suppose you have a point. Barring the original seed that provided the inspiration, I suppose I now effectively hold an uncontested claim over the title and isn’t that a sad thought...” Morrigan's expression appeared remorseful for a moment before she settled her dark and terrible eyes back upon Debby, “You weren’t our first choice Debby, but you have served admirably in his absence all the same.”

Debby suppressed a flare of anger over what was almost certainly a misogynistic barb. She had endured many in the early days until her abilities were too powerful and too valuable to ignore.

The Morrigan cocked her head to one side and appeared profoundly amused, “I think you misunderstand. The human we wanted, he had abilities entirely unlike your own, intended to engage conflicts at a greater scale...But devotion and conspiracy denied us...” Her tone turned dark and dangerous, her expression cold. “Yet your sacrifices and his legacy may prove sufficient to deny the god eaters their prize.” The Morrigan's expression softened, becoming sympathetic, “You have played your part admirably, and should you wish for it, I can grant you the eternal rest you sought when first climbing this tower. None would fault you for it.”

Her mind somewhat addled by the mead, Debby had some trouble following what The Morrigan was saying. “Are you saying everything is already arranged? Then why tell me any of this?” She asked uncertainly.

“Not quite,” The Morrigan admitted sympathetically, “Additional sacrifice, keeping hope alive, would save many who would otherwise certainly perish.” She turned her gaze to the distant horizon and the tide of Reapers surging over the hills, “The High King is preparing a final feint to buy time for the outer city to be evacuated. A sacrifice that will no doubt save thousands potentially at the cost of his own life and the forty men and women of his honour guard. What will your choice be Debby? Sacrifice? Or resignation?” There was no judgement in The Morrigan’s tone, just an insistence on making a choice.

Debby reconsidered taking the easy way out, ending the struggle, the pain...But she couldn’t do it. If Debby was going to die, she wanted it to mean something, she wanted to go out with a defiant roar, not a mewling whimper. Debby knew she owed herself at least that much, and if The Morrigan wasn’t lying, then there was a chance that she might survive the apocalypse. “I’ll-” The words caught in Debby’s throat as she realised The Morrigan had vanished, “-stay...” She finished lamely.

Briefly activating her powers, Debby flinched as the dulling effect of the alcohol was purged from her system and she returned to her senses. “Plausible deniability...” Debby muttered with a sigh while slowly staggering towards her neatly stacked armour.

It was one of the rules, and Debby hated it. Deities were forbidden from appearing before mortals, besides the brokers, unless the mortal was in some way suitably impaired. Extreme exhaustion, drugs, alcohol, starvation, dehydration, anything that impaired the senses enough to bring the subject's observations into question. Anything that would cause someone to doubt themselves...

Avoiding looking at the emptied barrel of mead, Debby angrily yet determinedly began strapping on her armour. Technically, it wasn’t hers. The armour was an artefact that belonged to the royal family. Possessing Tier-A protective enchantments and a self-recharging mana core, the armour was practically indestructible. However, the traditional style of the armour left large sections of her body unprotected requiring lesser articles of armour to fill in the gaps.

Debby couldn’t remember how many bracers and boots she had gone through since her arrival, but she was confident it had to be in the thousands.

Similar to har armour, Debby’s claymore was another cultural artefact that was allegedly crafted by Brigid, their deity of smithing, amongst other interests. Also possessing Tier-A enchantments, the blade was impossibly sharp and capable of self-repair. As long as Debby was tall, she struggled to imagine that any of the natives would be able to lift the blade, let alone wield it effectively in combat. In all likelihood, her armour and weapon were never intended for use by the locals in the first place.

Debby’s aunt and cousins had told her all sorts of stories about the deities of the universe and the games they played with the lives of mortals. Although she had somewhat believed most of their stories at face value when claiming most heroes or champions were contracted as glorified hitmen or amoral mercenaries, Debby’s own experiences had been quite different.

Technically a mercenary, Debby was contracted as a protector against an invading third party, the minions of another pantheon. If her conversation with The Morrigan had not been a hallucination, Debby could understand why her contract had been so radically different to those of her cousins.

Even so, Debby still didn’t understand why her contract had not registered as complete and allowed her to return home. The terms had been incredibly simple, requiring only that Debby fight on behalf of the world’s unified pantheon for five standard Earth years, translating roughly as seven and a half years by the local calendar. So she had done exactly that. Debby had obeyed the conditions of her contract and more.

Debby had sat through countless strategy meetings and religious ceremonies, participating as directed and requested, even entertaining a political engagement to help secure and unify the locals under a single warlord.

The princeling was long since dead, burned alive by dragon's breath that Debby could have survived without his courageous but ultimately pointless sacrifice. There had been no love between them, they had both known that their engagement was purely political in nature. All the same, he had died believing he was protecting her. Or perhaps it had been martyrdom. His death had galvanised the locals in a way the hundreds of thousands already lost had not been able to manage.

Prince Connor had been the first royal to die to the Reapers, but he wouldn’t be the last. Even though Debby had long since abandoned following politics, she was still vaguely aware that the king, or high king as he preferred, was the patriarch of the single remaining royal dynasty. Far from being the manipulative or conniving cliche of Hollywood, High King Bran and his clan were the last ones left because they were the only ones who abandoned their ancestral homelands rather than be overrun.

The first to flee, High King Bran had set his people to work constructing a fortress by the sea, a final hold against the forces of the ever-encroaching Reapers. The most powerful Guardians were dedicated to defeating the dungeons in the surroundings, maintaining the peace for as long as possible, and allowing refugees from the fallen or falling holds to take shelter within his walls.

The military campaigns had been endless. For every dungeon defeated from the surrounding countryside, another would take its place only days later. It was impressive that the high king had managed to keep the army’s morale from shattering as long as he had. It was even more impressive now that the backbone of the remaining forces were in fact a drafted militia of men and women too old to stand let alone fight.

Descending the tower, Debby tried to dismiss the dark thoughts that had drawn her to the tower roof in the first place. She did her best to forget how profoundly tired she felt and that there was a very real chance that her mind had been playing tricks on her.

Marking her way towards the outer walls, Debby was only one of a handful to do so, moving against a tide of humanity headed towards the innermost walls. Children were herded by young men and women scarcely into their teens and already struggling beneath immense weights of responsibility. They were not alone, supported by immature Guardians who gently kept the scared and crying children moving.

The Guardians had been an immense surprise to Debby when she had first arrived. Incredibly similar to the Reapers, or monsters, as her cousins had identified them. The most prominent feature that set Guardians apart was the luminescent tattoos covering their bodies.

Sort of like Pokemon, Digimon or any other monster taming franchise, the Guardians took the form of just about anything. Some were hulking earth elementals, others were shaggy furred wolves, and still others were giant insects. The form of the Guardian was almost entirely dependent on the Partner who created them.

Linked at a subconscious level, the Guardian and its Partner could communicate without words over immense distances depending on the maturity of the Guardian and the magical potential of the Partner. The bonding ceremony that allowed prospective Partners to create their Guardian was one of the most holy and religious events the locals had. When the high king decreed all boys and girls above the age of ten would undertake the ceremony, Debby had expected a riot. It was a testament to how dire the situation was that only a few had spoken against it, and quietly at that.

Debby had been tested shortly after her arrival and had unfortunately been determined incompatible with the process that would allow her to have a Guardian of her own. It hadn’t been too much of a surprise for her since Debby was reasonably confident the locals were all low Tier Artificers. Although she had never heard of the particular specialisation and was confused by how they had managed to proliferate the Class through their population without harvesting the dungeons.

It was one of the tricks used by the dungeons. The Class Crystals, as her Aunt called them, could irreversibly alter a standard human and change their mana into an imitation of the true Class Bloodlines of Earth. However, when altered individuals died inside of a dungeon, it would trigger a mutation in the dungeon, rapidly accelerating its growth and capabilities. In short, the Class Crystals were a trap. While altered humans could better fight off the monsters, a single fatality could rapidly get out of hand and spell the doom of an entire continent.

Guardian maturity was why so many of the elderly had been drafted or volunteered to man the outer walls. Even those with the lowest aptitude would have Guardians of at least intermediate capabilities accrued over decades of existence.

As The Morrigan had insisted, Debby’s presence kindled flickering hope in the eyes of those she passed on the street.

Still convinced she was a lamb headed for slaughter, Debby did her best to straighten her back and continue walking with an even stride, profoundly grateful that her helmet hid her face from view. While some might quibble over what difference her almost guaranteed imminent demise meant when she had been so close to ending it herself, to Debby it meant everything. She had been without hope for so long that the prospect of surviving damn near terrified her.

The reality Debby had accepted was no longer the only possibility, but there was no guarantee that even if she fought to her very limits that she would earn any more than a chance at survival. It was that chance that terrified her. Every action now had profound value and meaning, a single misstep could doom her as surely as stepping off the tower.

Solemnly climbing the steps of the outer wall, Debby took her place alongside the clan warriors and militia, her comparatively herculean height making her visible from far and wide.

Lending credence to The Morrigan’s visit, Debby could see the High King and his retainers charging across the hills from atop their Guardians and cutting towards the approaching horde of Reapers. Angling away at close to the last moment, the high king’s procession caused the horde of Reapers to messily divide as some diverted to chase the high King and others continued towards the city.

“BOWMEN! READY ARROWS!” Barked a veteran clan warrior, drawing and readying an arrow as he did so.

The Reapers were still far out of range, but judging by the way many of the militias’ hands were shaking, Debby assumed that the order was intended to provide a momentary distraction and allow them the opportunity to find their nerve.

While not particularly proficient with the bow, Debby was a good shot with a sling, and her extreme strength made her the closest thing this world had to artillery.

Slipping her sling off her belt, Debby took a lead bullet off a nearby stack of prepared ammunition and began to spin her sling. Channelling her mana came as easy as breathing, so once Debby was confident she had her mark, she snapped her sling, releasing a crack like thunder as the lead projectile broke the sound barrier and obliterated a trio of Reapers cresting a distant hill, and taking a portion of the hill with them.

Knocked down by the projectile leaving the wall, the nearby clan warriors and militia backed away to give Debby more space.

Loading another bullet, Debby began to spin her sling and select another target. Attempting to give the other defenders the best possible advantage once the Reapers reached the wall, Debby began choosing targets that would leave the horde forerunners even more dispersed while allowing morse distant packs of Reapers to clump together as targets for volley fire with the bows and slings of the clan warriors and militia.

Debby hurled bullet after bullet into the approaching horde, not even trying to keep count of her kills. A habit of her early days, apathy had driven the practice from her mind in time, and prudence now kept it there.

Running her stack of ammunition dry, Debby was somewhat surprised as a small group of elderly militia deposited a fresh stack of ammunition beside her a moment later. Without waiting for thanks, they hurried away towards the ammunition reserve to retrieve more.

The Reapers were almost within bow shot of the clan warriors, but Debby did her best to ignore that and continued pelting the horde with near reckless abandon.

The first waves of the Reapers would primarily consist of their weakest. It was a break in their usual behaviour which would often have the closest monsters charging towards the largest concentration of humans. Something had taken hold of them and directed them to act with a crude semblance of strategy. Quite possibly the dungeons themselves, Debby had no way of confirming or denying that theory.

“PORTAL! EAST SIDE!” A distant clan warrior cried out in warning, “FOCUS FIRE!”

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Debby stiffened in shock, she had thought they would have more time. Willing her legs to move, Debby began sprinting down the length of the wall, leaping over anyone or thing that got in her way. The leather skirt had once embarrassed Debby, but she had long since come to appreciate the freedom of movement it afforded in moments such as this.

Stuffing her sling through her belt, Debby prepared to leap off the wall. The faintly shimmering section of muddy grass close to a hundred feet from the wall was the entrance to the recently arrived dungeon and her current target.

Even though the majority of the Reaper horde was approaching from roughly north of the city, smaller hordes were still moving to flank the city from the east and west to cut off any possible retreat by land. Entering the dungeon and destroying the core would almost guarantee that she would reemerge in the midst of the horde flanking from the east, but Debby grit her jaw and leapt off the wall anyway.

Spending a fraction of mana to avoid taking damage from the fall, Debby still did her best to mitigate the damage by tumbling sideways before regaining her feet. She would have preferred to tumble more efficiently, but the claymore on her back made it a near impossibility.

Sprinting towards the entrance to the dungeon, Debby’s eyes narrowed and focused on the hulking form of a twin-headed Ettin in crude plate armour lumbering out of the portal.

The left Ettin head noticed Debby immediately and raised its spiked club menacingly while turning to the right head, “Dinner commin’ our way Bob!”

“Wuh?” The right Ettin’s head stared at the left head in confusion before following the direction of the pointed club, “Ooh! Good! Me hungry Bill!” It slapped a debranched oak tree against the iron plates covering its prodigious gut to emphasise its point.

“Me know!” The left Ettin head groaned irritably, “That’s why me tell-YEOW!!!”

Debby had drawn her claymore and while channelling her mana spun on the spot to sever the Ettin’s left Achilles tendon. Rather than stay and finish the Ettin off, she continued sprinting straight into the dungeon.

Years of experience had taught Debby two very important things regarding high level dungeons. First, never rush into a dungeon. Second, giant monster dungeons were always outdoors and almost always located on mountain ranges.

Knowing she didn’t have the luxury of time to indulge her first piece of advice, Debby was relying heavily on the second.

Sure enough, Debby found herself standing in a deep gorge flanked by mountains and cliffs on either side, and she wasn’t alone.

A dozen more Ettins were meandering down the gorge and towards the portal.

Pressed for time, Debby gathered her mana and leapt up and out of the gorge in full view of the approaching Ettins. Spying a cave at the far end of the gorge, Debby began running as fast as she could manage over the rough terrain.

Standing close to fifteen feet tall, the Ettins could still see Debby easily enough and those with javelins or slings began taking shots at her while those without charged after her. The fact that the Ettins each had two heads and that each was nominally in control of its side of its shared body, meant that some of the Ettins were far less effective in attacking or chasing her as they prioritised arguing strategy over taking said actions. Debby's cause was aided still further as it appeared a number of Ettins shared the same name and became confused when an unrelated comment or demand was seemingly directed towards it by another Ettin.

Considered to be on the low end of high-level dungeons, the Ettins' stupidity and vulnerability to mind games were largely considered the determining factor.

Trusting that the light from her claymore would prove sufficient, Debby charged into the cave and did her best to ignore the rancid stench that assaulted her nostrils.

The floor was littered with bones and rotting animal carcasses. However, the source of the smell was a morbidly obese female Ettin sitting atop a crude throne made from slabs of rock.

Wearing better protective crude plate armour than the Ettins outside, the female Ettine also had a crude approximation of a crown atop each of its heads.

“Ooooh a visitor!” The left head cackled in gleed.

“Indeed sister, indeed,” the right head agreed.

“And she is all alone!” The left added with malicious joy, slapping her fat armoured arm against the armrest of her stone throne.

“Alone, yes!” The right head agreed, her dark beady eyes glinting with perverse hunger.

Groaning, the Ettin rolled more than stood to its feet before snatching up a pair of crude iron battleaxes.

“Now, just stay still and it will all be over,” the Left head purred dangerously, raising her left arm and preparing to strike.

Anticipating the attack, Debby waited until the last moment to dodge before swiping at the Ettin’s overextended hand and severing two of its fingers. Caught by a hail of stone chips sent flying by the Ettin’s axe, Debby’s mana prevented her from taking any damage despite a fist-sized shard striking her exposed lower thigh.

“AAAAARGH!!!” The left head cursed, instinctively retracting her hand and dropping her weapon in the process as her remaining fingers failed to maintain a strong enough grip.

Waiting to press her advantage, Debby was denied as the axe held in her right hand came howling towards her and forced Debby to leap away in order to avoid getting swept along by the attack. Even though Debby was confident she could tank a number of direct hits from the Ettin before running out of mana. She also knew that frivolously expending mana like that would see her dead far sooner than later, especially with all the Reapers waiting for her outside.

“SHE HURT ME!” The left head wailed, her voice echoing through the cave so loudly that it caused a number of stalagmites to crash down from the ceiling.

Debby grimaced both in pain and at the necessary expenditure of mana to enhance her reflexes and avoid being crushed or impaled by the stalagmites. Thanks to her heightened reflexes and reaction speed, Debby managed to avoid the sneak attack made by the Ettin’s right head, narrowly ducking under the blade of the battle-axe as it whipped through where her neck had been a half-second earlier.

Snatching a loose rock with her left hand, Debby gathered more mana and pitched it straight at the Ettin’s right head.

Contrary to her expectations, the Ettin suddenly pivoted, placing the left head into the line of fire.

The Ettin’s left head crumpled like a rotten melon, its cheeks, mouth and eye sockets collapsing into a ruined mess of blood and broken bones. “Shishtler?!” Somehow the left head still managed to speak, dislodging broken pieces of the stone and segments of bone to reveal her thoroughly ruined face, or more accurately what lay behind it.

The Ettin’s right arm reached up and wrapped its fingers around the mewling remains of the left head and then crushed it into pulp before snapping the neck free with a vicious tug. “Much better,” the right and sole remaining head purred happily, “You have no idea how annoying it is being stuck with an imbecile of that calibre for all eternity.” She emphasised her point by hurling her twin's severed head at Debby.

Swatting the head aside with her claymore, Debby winced as she realised she was dealing with an aberrant, a boss monster with memories of its former incarnations. Far more dangerous than a regular boss monster that was already incredibly dangerous, aberrant dungeons had a reputation as hero killers for good reason.

To make things worse, Debby could hear the Ettins outside growing closer with each passing moment, and by the looks of things, the female Ettin could as well.

“Tick tock,” the ettin taunted as she picked up the left head’s battle axe.

Doing her best not to panic, Debby tried to consider her options while slowly pacing to the Ettin’s right side where she would have the most advantage.

Seemingly content to watch Debby as she ran down the figurative clock, the Ettin continued watching her while making no indication of intending to move until it was absolutely necessary.

Debby cursed and cautiously made her approach, ready to activate her mana at any moment.

Still smiling, the Ettin began backing away and towards the entrance to the cave.

Debby charged and prepared to take a hit.

Sure enough, the ettin gave Debby a backhanded blow with her right fist. Despite her claymore breaking through the armour, Debby was almost sent flying from the residual momentum. However, with her reflexes and reaction speed heightened far beyond the limits of a normal human, Debby used her own momentum from swinging the claymore to roll up and over the Ettin’s fist cleaving her claymore down through the Ettin’s left elbow.

Eyes widening in shock, the Ettin could do nothing but look on in frustration as Debby shifted her grip with impossible speed and scythe the claymore through her head.

Feeling the telltale impact and destruction of the dungeon core as the claymore passed through the Ettin’s brain, Debby spared only a moment to lament having spent so much mana to bring the boss monster down. Sprinting out of the cave, Debby narrowly avoided a club that would have crushed her right arm.

The first of the Ettins had arrived at the cave and nearly succeeded in ambushing Debby in her haste.

Choosing to ignore the shock of what had just happened, Debby continued running. She had already spent too much time inside the dungeon already and there was no telling how worse things had become on the outside.

After gaining a significant lead, Debby spared a moment to reverse her grip and take hold of the leather-wrapped handhold on the blade to reduce the risk of harming herself as she leapt down into the gorge and sprinted out of the dungeon.

Just as she had feared, Debby appeared amidst a horde of low tier beast-type Reapers. Momentarily holding the advantage, she ran right past as many as she could, expanding a small amount of mana to heighten her senses and reflexes so she could avoid friendly fire from archers atop the wall and opportunistic swipes made by the Reapers.

Short of another dungeon appearing, Debby’s highest immediate priority was returning to her position atop the wall and providing support while potentially recuperating mana from some high-calorie supplies.

Using a Reaper at the base of the wall like a springboard, Debby crushed its spine and launched herself up into the air twisting and contorting her body in order to land behind the shocked defender. “Defend the wall!” She called out as much in warning as a reminder to snap them out of their stupor.

Even though the low tier beast-types wouldn’t be able to breach the sturdy stone wall, they were certainly capable of climbing atop one another to scale it outright. So neglecting their post for even a short amount of time could prove disastrous.

Anticipating the worst, Debby was profoundly relieved to find the northernmost section of the wall was still managing to hold.

The Reapers had managed to form a ramp of their dead and dying that reached halfway up the wall. It was almost tall enough that the more agile Reapers could reach the spears of the militia.

Resheathing her claymore, Debby withdrew her sling and renewed her ranged assault on the Reapers still charging over open ground and towards the wall.

Almost daring to hope that they would be able to hold the Reapers back, Debby’s hopes were crushed as organised ranks of humanoid Reapers began marching over the hillside. Baring ladders and crude battering rams, it was obvious that they intended to siege the city in a far more traditional fashion.

To make things worse, Debby could see flying Reapers in the distance. Either incredibly large and far away, or much closer, she couldn't be sure besides the fact that they numbered in the hundreds or perhaps even thousands.

Minute by minute, the distant hills disappeared beneath blankets of Reapers. They were legion, numerous beyond counting.

Debby did her best to stifle her despair, taking the momentary lull in the fighting to gorge herself on pemmican, or at least the natives' equivalent. As much as she loathed the taste and consistency of it, Debby didn’t want to have her efforts up until now be rendered worthless because she had placed her preference in food ahead of restoring her mana.

A clarion call of horns signalled the return of the High King and the opening of the gate. Less than half of his retinue had returned, and those who remained were leaning heavily into the saddles of their Guardians. To his credit, High King Bran did not retreat towards the inner city, instead directing his Guardian up and onto the wall above the gate.

For a moment, the two of them locked eyes with one another across the wall. It surprised Debby to see the same sense of despair she felt expressed in the High King’s emerald eyes. But more than that was their stubborn refusal to go quietly. They were both convinced this was going to be the end, but they were going to fight on anyway.

The tightly packed ranks of Orcs, Goblins, Gnolls, Kobolds, Serpent Men, Lizard Men, Dramora, Faelings and every other remotely intelligent monster at the dungeons’ disposal halted a short distance out of bow range while all manner of giants slowly lumbered into position behind them.

Torn between taking the opportunity to inflict as many casualties as possible and playing for time, Debby reluctantly settled for the latter. The Morrigan had insinuated that Debby needed to buy time for some sort of miracle, so she clenched her teeth and prepared herself for the inevitable assault.

Just as the beast-types had done before them, the humanoid Reapers fanned out to block off all avenues of retreat. Much to Debby and many others' despair, this included the sea. Crude rafts were deployed into the surf and began forming a blockade.

Even knowing that the ocean had never truly been an available means of escape, Debby felt a heightened sense of despair all the same.

Worse still, primitive siege engines were dragged to the front by giants and loaded with effortless ease.

“HOLD FIRM!!!” High King Bran called out defiantly, “OUR WALLS ARE TALL AND STRONG!!! MADE FROM OUR VERY OWN BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS!!! WATCHED OVER BY THOSE WHO HAVE SACRIFICED ALL THEY HAVE FOR THIS MOMENT!!!”

A small number of catapults launched rough-hewn stones towards the wall but thankfully came up short.

“THE REAPERS ARE MANY!!! AND HAVE TAKEN MUCH FROM US!!! MOTHERS!!! FATHERS!!! BROTHERS!!! SISTERS!!! DAUGHTERS!!! SONS!!! THEY HAVE RAVAGED OUR PEOPLE WITH IMPUNITY!!! NOTHING MORE THAN WILD BEASTS WHOSE HUNGER CANNOT BE SATED!!!” The High King waited a moment, as if deliberately timing his speech with the next attempted catapult barrage.

Again, the stones thrown by the catapults came up short, but they had managed to land far closer to the wall than on the first attempt.

“IN THIS OUR HOUR OF TWILIGHT!!! DO NOT FORSAKE THE GODS WHO HAVE GIVEN US SO MUCH IN TIMES OF PLENTY!!! NO DESPAIR AND SURRENDER IN THE FACE OF THE ENEMY’S SAVAGERY!!! TAKE HEART!!! HOLD ONTO HOPE FOR THOSE WE MUST PROTECT!!!” The High King paused for a moment, “FIGHT ON THAT WE MAY ALL SEE THE DAWN!!!”

Cheers erupted from the throats of the clan warriors first and were quickly joined by the militia.

Debby remained silent, opting to just raise her fist in support. Too much of what he had said mirrored the words and sentiments of The Morrigan and her prophecy, and it made her profoundly uncomfortable.

The prophecy was common enough knowledge, but the High King was no zealot. The way he had spoken was with absolute surety, making him either the most accomplished liar Debby had ever known, or a man with inside information.

Debby cursed herself for not pushing The Morrigan for more information, wondering if perhaps she had then she wouldn’t be nearly so terrified. Then Debby remembered the look she had shared with the High King, the doubt she had seen in his eyes, and thought perhaps she was better off not knowing.

The next barrage of small boulders made contact with the lower wall. However, they shattered as the wall’s enchantments activated to negate the incoming damage.

Unperturbed, the enemy let out a cheer of triumph as the giants reloaded their catapults.

The bombardment lasted the better part of an hour with no signs of the wall taking any visible damage.

As tempted as she was, Debby refrained from engaging the enemy.

So long as the catapults were ineffective and the remaining Reapers kept their distance, Debby was resolved to bide her time.

Besides the boulders crashing against the wall, and the occasional rousing word from the High King, the defenders remained deathly silent. The clan warriors put on a brave enough face, but the militia would visibly tremble in response to each impact against the wall.

Growing ever more worried that another dungeon would appear, Debby had no choice but to keep her senses sharp and her muscles limber so she could intercept potential threats.

The flying monsters Debby had observed earlier were now circling the city. A blended mix of gargoyles, giant bugs and insects, wyverns and a host of other creatures she could not identify, Debby was certain they were slowly drawing closer, tightening a noose around the city.

Sure enough, the self-imposed ceasefire quickly came to an end when a flock of reptile tailed chickens broke from formation and descended towards the city. Apparently quite weak, they were picked off by archers deployed on the tops of the high buildings throughout the outer city.

Unfortunately, this seemed to serve as a signal for everything else. Reapers on the ground and in the sky began converging on the city in unison.

Prioritising the flying Reapers, Debby locked her sights on a Wyvern and let her bullet loose.

Caught completely unawares, the Wyvern had no opportunity to dodge, detonating in a fiery conflagration that consumed a host of smaller flying Reapers in its general vicinity.

Debby repeated this action again and again, terrified of what havoc the Wyverns, in particular, could wreak upon the city and the children bunkered down in the city centre in particular.

Too large to reliably dodge her projectiles, the Wyverns began suicide charging the rooftop archers instead. Debby managed to stop most of them, but not all. There were also many more wyverns that were outside of her range altogether, strafing the outer city under withering hails of arrows from the inner wall.

Aerial attacks had been anticipated and were one of the reasons why the outer defences were comparatively undermanned. All the same, Debby could only wish they had more fighters as she snap kicked a ladder back out and onto the swarming ranks of the Reapers.

Stowing away her sling, Debby began patrolling the wall and used her immense enhanced strength to lift and dash apart the enemy siege ladders. For a time, this strategy worked, allowing the clan warriors and militia to assist neighbouring sections of the wall. Unfortunately, just like the beast-type Reapers, the humanoids were just as capable of forming ramps from the dead or dying, and far more proficient at traversing them.

Debby had no choice but to draw her claymore and begin hacking down the Reapers that attempted clamouring the last few feet. For a short while, the return of the militia and clan warriors allowed them to prevent the Reapers from gaining purchase, but it didn’t last.

Unlike Debby who could spend mana to restore herself, the militia quickly began to flag from exhaustion, leaving only their Guardians and the clan warriors to assist Debby in repelling the Reapers.

“THE GATE!!! TO THE GATE!!!” The High King called, disengaging from his current melee with the help of his giant wolf Guardian and redeploying to the gate.

A profoundly disconcerting creaking sound came a few seconds later.

Jumping down off the wall, Debby ran towards the gate.

Besides herself, a small shield wall of clan warriors, and the High King, no one else had had time to respond. This was unfortunate because a veritable tide of humanoid Reapers was charging towards them.

Knowing it was now or never, Debby enhanced her strength, accelerated her recovery speed and hardened her skin and muscles against harm. All but invincible until her mana runs dry, Debby took a firm grip on her claymore and charged.

Blood, severed limbs and displaced internal organs flew in all directions as Debby pressed hard into the ranks of the enemy. Ignoring all attacks made against her, she attacked with a fury borne from despair and anguish, knowing full well that she could run out of mana at any moment and be struck dead.

Again and again, the Reapers' numbers swelled, attempting to strike Debby down or slip past into the city. Each time, Debby cut them down, her blade finding the path of least resistance and hewing the enemy apart with the same effort as one might a boiled potato.

The sheer number of dead and dying Reapers had begun to block the gateway and was making it that much more treacherous for new combatants to enter the fray.

Debby was five swings through her next form when she realised no more Reapers remained in front of her. Staggering backwards, she took several deep breaths and grimaced as she realised she was very nearly out of mana. Just as she was about to ask what was happening, the gate doors were blown off their hinges and revealed a deformed pair of legs on the other side.

Constructed with Reapers in mind, the gate had only been ten feet tall to begin with. The fact that only the giant’s legs were visible was not a reassuring sign.

To make things worse, smaller Reapers had begun surging through the much wider space. Even though more clan warriors had come to head the High King’s call, the shield wall was immediately in trouble, losing ground as body after body joined the enemy to push them back through sheer weight of numbers.

Without using her mana, Debby did her best to disable enemy combatants as best she could in order to help the shield wall hold its ground a little longer. Unfortunately, the enemy was able to replace their fallen faster than she could maim them.

Even the High King’s Guardian wasn’t enough to turn the tide. Already littered with open wounds, the giant wolf fought savagely but was steadily driven back by an unending bristling wall of spears.

The High King himself was heavily favouring his left arm and breathing heavily beneath his helm, “FIGHT ON!!!” Bran roared defiantly, “FIGHT-”

A desperate horn call came from the direction of the inner city and froze Debby to her core. As foolish as it was to turn her back on one enemy, let alone dozens, she couldn’t help it.

The horn call repeated again and then for the third time.

Debby knew that it could mean only one thing and she felt the spark of hope inside herself die. The Reapers had breached the walls of the inner city.

Without looking back, Debby began burning what little mana she had left to propel her onwards and towards the inner city.

Hundreds of flying Reapers continued to swarm overhead, and Debby could almost bring herself to hope that the alarm had been sounded on their account. However, she knew in her heart that the horn calls would not have been so numerous or desperate if that was the case. Reaching the gate to the inner city, Debby leapt as high as she could before scrambling up the remaining distance.

The buildings of the inner city were taller still than those in the outer city, intended to provide additional sniping posts for archers when the outer walls were lost. And from her vantage, Debby could indeed confirm that the outer walls within her line of sight were all but lost.

Leaping off the wall and onto the roof of a somewhat nearby building, Debby felt her enhanced strength begin to fail. Doing her best to ignore it Debby continued running and jumping across the lower rooftops and towards the cries of alarm.

“FORM UP!! FORM UP!!” A grizzled voice roared defiantly, “NOTHING LEAVES THIS DUNGEON WITHOUT GOING THROUGH US FIRST!! YOU HEAR ME?!?!”

A wordless cry of agreement was made in answer.

Debby nearly lost her footing, barely managing to avoid a four-story fall that would almost certainly have been her death. Unsure if she had heard correctly, Debby almost lost her footing again when the market centre came into view and revealed the largest dungeon portal she had ever seen.

Half the size of the High King’s castle, the portal was massive.

Fully aware that portal size was at least partially commensurate to the level of the dungeon, Debby felt the last of her enhanced strength fade and narrowly avoided throwing herself off the rooftop as her heart gave in to despair.

There was no chance of victory to begin with. The enemy was too strong. There was no hope...