I turned around and pulled the rod up. I covered my mouth further with my elbow over the tied shirt around my face, and step forward through the haze until my shins bump against the dislodged section of the ground. I take a step back.;

“Bombard...” I cough and sputter, “my enemies... O’... thou... servants of Gob... the magnomious.”

I feel the mana shoots up like a geyser through my feet. The mana circles my heart, and out of my leg. Perhaps it was because of my lost vision, or perhaps it was because of my desperate situation, and the fact that I was teetering on the edge of oblivion, but I could do it. I could sense the mana leave my body.

It snaked through the ground and wrapped around the large, dislodged stone like a vine, and lifted it in the air, as if in the cradle of a sling. Could I direct it? I will the mana flowing through me to pull the stone, and the stone moves through the air. What else could I do? What if...

I will the mana around the stone to pull one side of it while holding still the other. The torn-up piece of the flooring begins to spin, and spin, and spin as it was tumbling through the air. The black smoke swirled all around it like a typhoon. I cough and sputter and bring the stone to a stop. If I were to toss it into the door like that, it would probably lodge itself into the wood. There was a reason why bullets didn’t tumble. No, what did bullets do? They spun.

With that in mind, instead of tumbling it, I will the mana to spin it. It doesn’t take long before my will has been set, the mana obeys and the rock begins to spin. Once again, the black smoke whirls around it, and follows it as I let it loose at the door.

The spinning stone smashes through the black wood door and tears it open; dragging the smoke with it as it leaves. A loud smack echoes just beyond the new opening, followed by an equally loud splash. The Ratmen at the entrance had either been tossed to the side or had scattered of their own volition, before they have a chance to regroup I circle back, and pick up one of the spikes that I had taken before they began trying to smoke me out and hoist it.

The first Ratman to peek his head through the door was welcomed with a marble javelin. It fell backward, and soon another had begun to crawl in through the opening. It, too, was stopped when I rushed forward and ran it through with the other spike. I push it back and crawl out of the hole. Three rats, including the one I had just shoved out of the door, lay dead on the ground. Evidence of shattered skulls, and sharp pieces of wooden shrapnel buried in their chests and faces. The smoke is still flowing out of the room, and the small fire they had built by the foot of the door was all but smothered by the broken wood and the body of the Ratman I had shoved onto it. A large crack mars the marble just by the edge of the flowing aqueduct; splatters of light red follow it as if something had been dragged along for the ride.

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Movement on either side of me gets my attention. A Ratman had begun to cross the bridge to my left, and one had slowly begun to climb to its feet to my right. I point the rod at the nearest one.

“An awl, O’ thou servants of Gob the Highest, to strike my enemies.”

I sputtered out as quickly as I could before it found its footing. The ensuing spike pierces through its chest. It's not as large as the ones I got when I used my staff — this one was perhaps as long as my arm from my elbow to the middle of my palm, but it was enough to end its life. I hold the mana that had pulled it from the ground in place, and will it to rip the spike free.

The spike breaks off near the top so that a piece as long as just my palm is held in the air.

“Bombard my enemies, O’ thou servants of Gob, the magnomious.” I motion for the Ratman who had just managed to cross the bridge and was rushing toward me.

It held up its shield as it saw the spike begin its flight through the air toward it. The missile hits the shield and burrows into the iron plate on its face. The Ratman snarls and pulls it off of its arm and throws it at me just as I begin another incantation. I raise my arm to knock away the thrown shield, and the Ratman is upon me.

It swings its black, single-edged blade at me. Compared to the savage finesse and speed of the Dogmen, however, this swing seemed to me like that of an amateur. I step out of its range, and step toward it; giving it a hard shove toward the river. The momentum of the swing still carried as the blade skittered against the ground and had thrown it off balance, and with my 300+ pounds of mass pushing it, there’s no surprise that the creature toppled and fell into the river. It fought against the currents as it tried to resurface. It broke through once; its clawed hands grasping for purchase against the rushing water. Twice; shorter than the last, and then it surfaces no more. I saw it still struggling as it drifted down toward the grate.

I sit down and huff. I wasn’t good for much on Earth, but this? I was good at this. Scarily so. Even the writing that I had tried to dedicate my life to came harder than this. This felt almost natural; like a fish swimming in the water, or a herding dog let loose on a flock. I felt alive whenever I’m here; fighting with my life in the balance. Sure, taking a life was hard, at first, but they were trying to do the same. It was either me or them. Earth or Efra.

Even the sting of blades piercing and cutting my skin, and the blowback of treacherous mana felt like nothing compared to the constant state of dread and ennui that had found haunted me over the years of self-imposed stagnation. All of it: the burning in my chest, the tightness of my scars, and the dull ache shared both by my head and my still slightly injured legs, proved to me that I was alive. More alive than I had been in years.