“Huh…?” Private Vaughn woke up and his head pounded like a bad hangover. Then he realized everything hurt. He shifted around, finding himself in a random building, laying on a bed of glass that was digging into his back and shoulder-blades. Nothing felt broken.

His mind was blank from the sensations. He forgot where he was, what he was doing, why he was here, but these questions were answered by the passing seconds where the world rumbled and caused the glass to vibrate. There were screams and distant shoot-outs. Bright lights appeared from the broken shop display, probably where he crashed in from.

Everything came rushing to him all at once.

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, adrenaline pushing the pain out, as he scrambled frantically to his feet. “Holy shit!” he shouted again. “Holy shit!”

He had been fighting Kreutz, the leader of the Sungrazers, in Grassblade Avenue.

Private Vaughn continued his cursing as he surveyed his surroundings. He couldn’t find his rifle anywhere nor his helmet. Neither of those things would do any good against the Comet but he wasn't actually fighting the thing itself. Him and his unit were suppressing any monsters that wandered too close to the area. But strangely, like a premonition, something told him that these items weren’t necessary anymore.

The screams stopped and silence had befallen the battlefield. Everything sounded muted. His adrenaline died as quickly as it came and pain returned to him. He stepped forward and got a limp in his left leg. Twisted something, maybe, but not bad enough where he couldn’t walk.

“What…” the Private spoke to himself, “...What’s going on? Where is everyone…?”

Stepping out the broken doorway, a dense gray smog had settled over the roads. Silhouettes of familiar objects stood out to him. A traffic light over there, mailboxes, cars. As he opened his mouth to call out to his unit, his foot kicked something squishy.

Instinctively he knew not to look down but his body moved faster than his thoughts. At his feet was one of his own rendered unrecognizable as a human. He was a pink mass of flesh. White bone protruded. Organs still fresh.

Private Vaughn shrieked and scrambled from the corpse, his back hitting a slant light post, before mindlessly trudging, half-running half-limping, in a random direction hoping security would be on the other side. The smoke refused to dissipate. It seemed to get thicker as he walked. He coughed, his eyes stung, his legs were searing. He passed familiar vehicles. Passed people. Dead.

He refused to give them a second thought because he had to. He couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He had to get the fuck out of here.

Sweat dripped off his chin. He was shaking his head erratically and he didn’t realize it. They lost, didn’t they? They lost and Kreutz won. That guy did it. He won. No one was capable of fighting that catastrophe.

Private Vaughn clenched his teeth together so tightly that they hurt.

Everyone was gone. If there was anyone still alive, they wished they weren’t. Himself included.

After some time—he couldn’t tell—a silhouette hovered in the air before him. Like he was a lost soul meeting Death at the underworld gates, there that mysterious entity was. He opened his mouth but then the smoke faded just enough for him to discover the scene.

Fallen Slayers surrounded the entity.

A Korean woman was lying face-down in a pool of her own blood; Prominence was hunched against the passenger door of a car, his left leg gone below the knee; and Righteous Jin Tiehan was crumpled on a sidewalk. They were breathing, maybe, he didn’t know. A dozen more Slayers accompanied them. None of them were standing. Some of them were in pieces.

High-rankers. S-Ranks, A-Ranks, even the middle-rankers and probably some lows too. They were treated like fucking children acting out against their parents. The Private refused to believe the sight but it was staring right at him. The bodies and the one who did this.

An armless gray-man levitated before him, veiled by a carousel of ribbons. It had no head but a sphere of thin spikes in the hundreds, moving independently of one another and somehow they weren't colliding into each other. The ribbons were stagnant and blood dripped from them—pieces of gore too.

Private Vaughn knew what it was.

He screamed and his voice joined the war. Before he knew it, he ran in the opposite direction in terror of the monster that had killed so many.

“Insignificants,” spoke Kreutz.

The Private could not take more than seven steps. He ran with his damaged legs, then the world began spinning. The last thing he saw was his headless body before darkness took him.

~~~

[EXPEDITION STATUS]

INCAPACITATED: Gul

INCAPACITATED: Righteous Jin Tiehan

INCAPACITATED: Prominence

The House of Engineers was quiet.

Hope was stolen from them once again. So what if they got rid of the false night if Death was right on its heels? Devoy and Telescopium handled just one head in the basket of enemies—the more urgent threat. It was a logical decision to focus on Wonder: the Miracle who was actively targeting the Five Pillars and was the direct cause of the higher influx of monsters.

But that meant less resources for less urgent but equally powerful threats.

That was Kreutz.

When the System had acknowledged the incapacitations of the high-rankers at Grassblade Avenue, Alexander’s heart stopped and everything felt cold to him now, an unpleasant sensation of death. He had artisans report on Kreutz hoping the best. He wanted to believe that the System was lying to them, that the worst case scenario didn’t happen.

His people came back to a rare consensus thick in the middle of war: the forces combating Kreutz had lost.

There was nothing stopping it now. Not when everybody else was focused on the Miracle. Echo Team, who was in Remembrance Plaza, was out-of-range for the Superweapon to hit the Caller. Besides, it’d be impossible anyway when they were facing a horde—no way to drive the truck out. If that was the case, then reverse that thought. Knowing Kreutz was looking for him specifically, because he was the otherself of the famous Conqueror of the Previous Earth, was it possible to lead Kreutz to the Superweapon?

Alexander checked using the battlemap from a distance. Remembrance Plaza was far away. The city was a big place with blocked roads and unexpected detours and monster pods waiting for him. Making the trip there was unlikely. He’d be killed even with a personal escort since Kreutz was targeting him. The best scenario was having the Superweapon driven out while he drove in, but again, that led to the problem he realized earlier: there was a horde blocking its path, plus Wonder hadn't been killed yet.

Then what about the Slayers in the area? Maybe there were stashed weapons they could use like the [Godslayer Claymore]? The latter, though, took time. Clearances and permissions and the transit itself. Too long. There weren’t any high-rankers or high-level Slayer Teams close either. To be specific, anyone that could reasonably last more than five minutes. Let's say he decided to go on a recruitment drive. He’d basically be recruiting human shields, lining them up for the grave. Throwing bodies at the problem wasn’t the solution here. Not like Scorcher where it severely put a disadvantage on Ordo.

His mind continuously crossed off options, each one considered implausible due to time, available manpower, and plain feasibility. As the list was trimmed, frustration grew at the shrinking prospects. It must’ve been plain on his face because the artisans’ expressions were dark. They knew there wasn’t a clean way out.

Kreutz was coming here. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that inside the sprawling complex of political and military affairs, the commander of the Dawn Baptists would be present somewhere in there.

“The Caller’s less than fifteen minutes away from the Encampment and engaged with multiple units in the responding area!” informed one of the artisans. They could already hear it: the sound of whips breaking air as encroaching thunderclouds.

Fifteen minutes away already? If it had gotten this close this fast, then the Encampment’s alarms would barely have time to ring before it came.

Alexander cursed as his stressed hands shakily combed through his oil-black hair. Another curse squeezed brokenly from him, and his chest began to feel uncomfortably tight.

The walls were closing in.

How could they defeat Kreutz? He didn’t know. What could they do to defend against Kreutz? He didn’t know that either. Was there anything to do against Kreutz? He didn’t fucking know!

Time was running out and he had to answer this question now, else everyone here was going to become a memory.

Jackhammer was demanding urgent action. Alexander—Conqueror!—was the damned commander for God’s sake; he made it this far without tripping on himself, but there was nothing. The artisans were making rapid updates. Fatalities and full squad wipes, Slayer Teams vanishing from the face of the earth—the Caller was coming here and it was coming for him.

His eyes swung to the battlemap again. He spotted the Baptists in Remembrance Plaza, refamiliarized himself with the remaining targets, and ensured the remaining Five Pillars didn't move from their places.

Creekwood was destroyed, Vesper was as well; however, could they be used? There was something called the Purge Protocol, an emergency contingency when all hope was lost for the area. Once ordered by the President, the Heart of the Pillar—the massive mana crystal powering the damned thing—would be destabilized by a rune and self-destruct. It was something similar to a small nuclear bomb as experts said. It had the destructive power plus the radiation, though this was magical inversion. Since the invention of an Outbreak Pillar, it had never been used before.

Alexander’s lips quivered, twitched.

Tewfik had destroyed Pillar Vesper but not the Heart—the physical mana crystal powering the structure. The Pillar was close to the Encampment. Placed there strategically. If he floored it, it wouldn’t take long at all. Theoretically, he could take the emergency transport reserved for him, bait Kreutz there, and by the time he arrived the Purge Protocol would activate.

Was that…? Was that the way out?

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Could he even escape the area in time? Or did he need to blow himself up in a blaze of glory?

Did he need to fucking sacrifice himself?

“Jack,” Alexander said so quietly that the Oasis-shithead couldn’t hear him so he said his name again, and that got his attention. “You, uh, you still got the emergency transport ready for me?”

“Eh?” Jackhammer cocked an eyebrow, confused but he was steadily heating up in outrage. It was clear what he was thinking.

“I’m not running away—“ (“Then what the hell are you gonna—?!”) “—I’m not fucking running away, you jackass! Do you know what Kreutz wants?! Not you, not anyone here, but me! Me, goddammit! It wants my fucking head on a platter so I’m giving the motherfucker what it wants!”

His sudden yelling silenced the room. The whipping had only gotten louder, now. They sounded like cannon-fire, warning of the coming siege. It was less than a siege, admittedly, more like artillery having your position.

Alexander gave himself a second to breathe, using this moment to calm himself down just enough to explain: “I think… I think we need to use the Purge Protocol.”

Jackhammer stammered, “Th-The Purge Protocol—? Isn’t the Pillar fuckin’ destroyed?”

“The Pillar itself, yeah. But not the Heart, the actual device powering everything. As long as the President orders it, we can destroy Kreutz right there. We don’t need the tower at all.”

“You’re going to blow up the borough?!” one artisan protested.

Alexander snapped, “And we aren’t in range for the Superweapon, and like hell I could survive the drive long enough to be in range! Do you think our high-rankers in Creekwood are fast enough to come to our rescue after they slay Wonder? Or any other high-rankers? No! We’re—!”

The sound of alarm killed the rest of the counterarguments there—not like anyone else was making them. Sirens blared on every street corner. Whoever was talking, the microphone was fucked. Alexander knew little specifics about the Encampment's emergency protocols but he knew the gist: all fight-capable personnel had to man their positions while everyone else sought shelter.

Kreutz was getting too close, then.

Alexander began rattling off various orders. There were too many people here huddled together. Anyone who wasn’t directly overseeing the counteroffensive were told to get the hell out and find somewhere safe to weather the storm. Took a few times for everyone to get the memo and gradually the population was cut down a sizable fraction.

“Conqueror!” alerted a short artisan with round glasses, rolling away on his chair slightly enough to reveal his screen. “General Subramanian is calling!”

“Dammit,” swore Alexander, and right as he was about to scurry to his workstation, the System furiously buzzed at his ears. On reflex he slapped it a few times thinking a bee or a wasp was going to ruin his day further, but he noticed a blue screen.

[CALL]

Celestial War Empress

[Answer] [Decline]

Alexander muttered, “Oh…”

“Conqueror!” cried the same artisan—

“Shut up and give me a minute!” he retaliated harsher than he would’ve liked. It wasn’t a good idea to put off a call with General Subramanian but this was more important. Honestly he didn’t want to talk to Leona right now, not with the plan he had in mind. Because…

“Thank you, Alex, for staying.” He recalled a distant memory on the first day of the Disaster. Or second, whenever the hell it was. When the five of them—the first members which would be known as Slayer Team Alba—reunited at Ordo University, he remembered waking up at the middle of the night because of a dream about Dad and Hangzhou.

Leona had woken up too, and she dreamt that he was gone. That Althea was gone, that everyone she loved vanished from her life suddenly and spontaneously like her parents had.

She wanted him to stay, and frankly, as much as Alexander and his small hero complex complicated things—like Carn—everything in him said to give up the Purge Protocol plan. To not just fucking die because of unfortunate timing.

He pressed [Answer] with a shaky finger. “Leo,” he greeted her, his voice caught between Alexander Shen and Conqueror.

There was obvious battle going on in the background. Hell, on both their ends.

“I finally got a chance to call you, Conqueror,” Leona told him. She sounded burned out but there was the voice he loved. “Kreutz is heading your way, right? Do you have something planned?”

“Yeah.” He opened his mouth to tell her about the tentative plan but got halfway. “Y-Yeah, I’m uh, I’m—”

“Talk to me, lovely. It’s not like you to stutter. I’d give you a pep talk right now but neither of us have the time. We know we can’t pull anyone from Creekwood to help, so come here. Come to us. We’re waiting for you,” she told him.

I’ve already thought about that. “It’s a long drive to Remembrance—”

“Then start now, you knucklehead. I don’t care how many monsters we have over here, I don’t care if Kreutz is on your tail, we’ll find a way just like we always had. We’ve dealt with worse assignments before, Alex. Just give the order and we’ll destroy the horde right now.”

Just give the order, he thought, and everybody will come save me. Almost the entire roster was in Remembrance Plaza right now, defending Devoy and Telescopium against the horde sent by remaining Sungrazers. Slayer Team Alba, the Alumnus, the Problem Children, friends and comrades he had made along the way. Once Wonder was gone, then Seraph and Firebrand would come to his aid. Sage too once she completed her mission.

Poor Gul though, she was incapacitated. Alexander morbidly chuckled.

Through an absurd series of events, he was the commander of this ragtag strike force despite zero previous military experience. Yet even an idiot knew that a commander’s duty was to complete mission objectives. However, there was a second task that was arguably just as important: keeping his team alive. Their lives were in his hands.

Hearing Leona’s words now, it cut both ways.

Alexander never considered the prospect simply because he didn’t have the time to. Too much was happening too fast. He wasn’t in any real danger until now.

Just as a leader had to look out for his people, they looked out for him as well.

Choosing between activating the Purge Protocol and heading to his team was not a choice at all.

His life was in their hands, and he trusted them.

Alexander finally spoke, “...Wait for me, Empress.”

“Always, Conqueror. We’ll see you soon.”

The call ended.

“Conqueror—!”

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Alexander scurried to the workstation belonging to the artisan from earlier. Jackhammer and the rest of Third Paradise was a step behind. The artisan pressed the right buttons and the good General was up and ready to be heard.

“Conqueror, the time it took you to respond was concerning,” said General Subramanian, tense.

“I was putting together a plan,” responded Alexander confidently. “In less than fifteen minutes, probably a lot less now, Kreutz is going to flatten the Encampment and everyone inside. It’s impossible to stop its advance with the manpower we have. We need to cut our losses and let Kreutz come.”

“To destroy the Encampment?!” General Subramanian exclaimed. “All we need is to hold out until Wonder’s subjugated—”

“We don’t have that sort of time, let alone the means or the men to put it down. However, trying to block a fire with your body is bound to have disastrous consequences.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you divert the fire elsewhere then we might have a better chance.” We’ll buy time by wasting Kreutz’s.

General Subramanian gawked like he was confused. “How can you do that, Conqueror?”

“It’s simple: I’m going to act as bait to lead Kreutz towards Echo Team in Remembrance Plaza where it’ll be in range for the Superweapon to fire upon. By then, Wonder should be defeated leaving Kreutz open. I’ll relay my transit and have responding Slayers protect me and put up some nets to distract the Caller with.”

“How do you know Kreutz will follow you?”

“That’s a well-kept secret between me, Kosmos, and Seraph, General. But you have our guarantee that it wants my blood. Regardless if you approve or not, I will bring the motherfucker to a grave. Either theirs or my own.”

***

Alexander and Third Paradise left the House of Engineers. At first they briskly jogged but as the siren continued to squawk, adrenaline pumped and their bodies finally realized what was at stake. They began to run.

“Jesus…” Alexander said in shock once he entered the fading night. The Encampment was somehow more chaotic-looking than Grendel and the OBD incident. So many civilians were here. They were being herded by armed men and robotic troops—if he didn’t know any better, this sight was downright genocidal. They weren’t going anywhere as safe as Primordial Zero (which was ironically not-so-safe now) but the underground bunkers may provide enough security.

Maybe.

Running alongside the evacuation, hundreds of fighters were called in. General Subramanian had relayed Alexander’s intentions to the Encampment: they were to focus on shoring their defenses and create enough annoyances for Kreutz to waste its time on. Meanwhile, they had to find a good place to hide. It was impossible to save everyone, though, but maybe this plan could save enough.

After swimming through pandemonium, they arrived at an outside parking lot near the fortified southern wall. Half of it had been turned into a city fair but instead of games or a yard sale, tents were propped up for food distribution and medical rooms and general support. Before the latest attack turned everything into shit.

As tall as the southern wall was, Pillar Vesper could be distantly seen although Tewfik had bisected it down the middle. The only thing that remained was its collapsed skeleton. Seeing the Pillar again, Alexander’s breath hitched.

Good thing he abandoned that plan. He didn’t know if anyone could get inside to begin with.

He didn’t have time to think about the what-ifs when Jackhammer laughed, running to the designated transport: a red pickup truck. He slapped the hood as though he was greeting an old friend. “Thank Jesus, nobody nicked it!”

“This is the transport?” asked Alexander as a whipping sound echoed. He flinched. “It’s just a random truck.”

“Look at the kid now, he wants a limo to his prom date—“

“Jackhammer.”

“Okay look, dipshit. Everybody took everything else ‘cuz guess what? We’re in a fucking war!” Jackhammer said and scowled. “This is the best I could get for Commander Baptist and we don’t got the time to trade it in at the dealership! Now get the fuck inside!”

Alexander was about to but he stopped, staring strangely at the old piece of shit—Jackhammer, not the truck. The truck was a recent model underneath the grime and dirt. “You’re coming with me?”

Jackhammer rolled his eyes and dangled the keys in front of him. “You’ve ordered us to be your bodyguard, dumbass. Yeah, I’m coming with.” He turned to his cousins, Sledge and Crowbar. “This is a two-person job. Make sure our artisans aren’t caught with their cocks hanging out.”

Sledge and Crowbar glanced at one another, their tense expressions matching almost perfectly. It was their uncanny ability as brothers.

“Jack,” said the latter, “you serious?”

“Yeah, I gotta drop him off at school,” joked their Team Leader but he saw the look on their faces. Third Paradise went through too much shit in the past few years. First there was Oasisgate where everyone in that awful guild got burned, then the fallout afterwards, and finally here where they had lost family during the Disaster. Drill, Chisel, and now…

Jackhammer sighed and rubbed his lips. “You two are pissing me off, y’know that right? I’m gonna make it back dragging this shithead with me—“ he gestured at Alexander, “—and we’ll celebrate with drinks, alright? Y’got that?”

“Right, yeah,” said Sledge.

“See you later, I guess,” then Crowbar.

“Yeah. Later.” Jackhammer nodded a few times, and each time he resigned more and more, realizing what was at stake here. “Later, dumbasses.”

Alexander spoke up, “Hey Jack—“

“I told you to get in the fuckin’ car, kid.”

Without defiance, he did so, sitting in the passenger side. After a few seconds, Jackhammer hopped into the driver’s seat, slotted the key into the ignition and the engine purred. As dirty was the car was, it worked perfectly fine.

Jackhammer performed the sign of the cross before grabbing the wheel. “This is the last thing I expected when I came to Ordo, kid.”

“Yeah?” Alexander decided to take out his [Lapaz], the energy pistol he received from the Graylords.

The Oasis-shithead glanced strangely at the pistol before shrugging. “Yeah, we were here for a conference or some shit, I forgot. Now I might die with the piece of shit who ruined my life.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Learned that from you.” Jackhammer cranked the shifter to drive. “Let’s go.”