Arden presses his hand to the goblin’s face, then tightens his grip, bone cracking and splintering like wood under his grip. A razor-sharp dagger stabs for his side only to scrape against his iron-like flesh.

He throws the goblin with a spin, grabbing its leg and using it as a mace against the other, smashing both into the ground; eliciting a sickening crunch as both bodies shatter. His breathing doesn’t come in big gulps. He’d stopped breathing quite a while ago.

There is no need for it anymore.

They are in a cave — familiar beyond familiar. He’s close. He can feel it now. A gaggle of survivors have followed him from the surface. There is no more surface. It’s gone. Luscious fields of green, lakes clear and still, rivers raging and birds that fly.

All gone.

Replaced by a darkness and a coldness.

The underground. The Immortal Plane.

Arden lowers himself, scooping up the man who he’d fed bear only a few months ago. Hunger had led him to weakness. He closes the mans eyes and pulls the dagger from his chest. Blood does not flow. Weakness had led him to death. As it had so many others. They starve, now.

Except him. He can do nothing to help them. They cannot even eat the goblins — the man who tried now bore a hole in his chest, and Arden had buried him in the stone. A terrible grave, but better than nothing.

He places a large hand on the man’s head, then whispers a prayer to the being that has blessed him. He asks him to see the man’s spirit to rest.

Then he places his hand to the ground and tears chunks of stone with a single arm, like ripping chunks of cooked meat from a roasted pig — only the meat is cold, unfeeling stone.

Eventually, the hole is large enough that the man can lay flat. Or be laid flat. Another small prayer, and then Arden walks over to the hastily-constructed cart, shoving the rope across his back and pulling it forward. Others walk besides it, or behind it.

The cart is for those that cannot move. All in all, the group numbers at least thirty; those turned away from the other Sanctuaries. They’d settled outside the walls, fighting desperately against goblins or kobolds or wraiths.

As such, he’d offered a choice. Come with him, and perhaps reach salvation, or stay and be whittled down by hunger and blade.

He wasn’t yet sure if that was the right idea.

He’s not sure it’ll ever be.

Now, he’s frustrated. No matter how hard he tries to remember, it seems like the path to where he had lived before was gone. It feels as they they’ve gone in circles, under near-constant attack.

He’s getting worried — and he’s worried further that they can feel it. Still, he pulls the cart, ignoring the rope digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

Then a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of light grows on the walls.

——

Caau feels a strange pulse nearby, like the cave is throbbing with blood. He pulls his attention away from the guardians who now move further into the courtyard. They look at a fountain spilling water that reflects moonlight, cocking their heads.

He can feel… something nearby. Or, in fact, a lot of somethings. He feels… things. Fear? Worry? Suspicion?

What are these?

You might wish to try your [ Guide I ] ability. I’ll give you this one for free, since you’re not likely to fire the neurons necessary.

[ Guide I ]

What… what did that do? I don’t see anything.

——

Arden locks eyes with a glow of light, holding his axe up against the threat — but instead a wave of warmth spreads through him, and his hand involuntarily releases, letting it clatter to the floor. He drops his knee down so fast the stone crunches inwards, and he lowers his head.

For his salvation has found them.

[https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1022054419510075402/1173741985522258021/zlo3097_A_beautiful_resplendant_golden_spirit_with_ginger_hair__2a3cd7b5-497b-497e-b8f2-4bc7b78bc2c0.png?ex=65650f68&is=65529a68&hm=7259991c722d2f7b98c4a8456960d11ffe404f412d6d12630bc37dbda77d4bc7&=&width=558&height=741]

There, stuck to the cave wall, is a golden figure. Drawn with pencils of solid gold, a frame is traced; then it begins to suck from the wall, a fully formed spirit resplendent in glowing yellow.

The shape is confusing, warped — but in a way that brings calm. It shifts between half-formed memories. One second, it is Krista — then Jonathon. Others, too, seem to see the same effect. Their loved ones visit them, all those lost and damned.

It is beautiful. Arden was right. There would be salvation here. He was right!

The celestial spirit raises a flowing hand and presses it into the wall it had come from, and a long line of light pierces through the darkness, a rail for the train of people to follow. It then looks at Arden, and lowers itself to his height. Krista looks up at him, then points.

Arden stands, pulling up the rope yet again, walking with a renewed vigour. Only a few now walk alongside him. The rest lay in the cart, dying for sickness, hunger, thirst. Movement is slow…

But he’ll get there. He’ll save them; get them somewhere safe. For he has been made the Embodiment of Safety.

It is a calling that he will not fail.

——

Okay, whatever it is… it’s getting closer. Alright, tell me straight — what the hell is going on?

You are getting visitors. Your investment has paid off.

Investment? What the hell are you talking about?

It will take them a while to arrive. They’ll need food, water, and perhaps medicine. Yet you have none of that. A shame, really — that they came here seeking salvation only to die.

People are coming here? Why? There’s nothing that would attract them here.

…

What am I meant to do? Where the hell should I get food? Do goblins count as food, because that’s about the only fucking thing I have. And water? Ha! None of that, not at all.

You’ll have to find it quickly, whilst I give you no way or information to do so. I will say, however, that you could not feed them goblins unless you wished… interesting results.

Why?

The reason that the gorakhin — goblins to you — drink mortal blood is because they are creatures of regret. They believe it will return them to mortality. After all — they are goblins because they ate from mortal flesh.

So, what, they weren’t always goblins?

Nope! They were mortal once. Or their parents, or parents parents. It doesn’t really matter — what does is that you’re on the verge of seeing it happen right on your doorstep. If this group of people come here and find nothing, no food, no water, no medicine… what do you think they’ll do to each other?

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

Eat each other? That’s what you’re getting at? Why would they do that if they know it’ll turn them into those creatures?

That’s the funny part — they don’t know! There might be rumours, legends, folk tales… but they don’t know. It’ll be interesting.

The Lunar Sanctum must have food. The creatures in there have to eat something.

You can certainly try.

His attention flicks back to the guardian’s eyes. They circle a fountain. Quartz reads a small inscription on the fountain’s stone rim.

’To open the way to the manor, the cycle must be made whole. From life to death; from fear to bravery, the height of power to the lowest of lows — and from wanton desire to repentance.’

Alright Guardians, we have an objective. We need to find water and food. Medicine, also, if you can.

Quartz looks over the fountain. On the rim, there are small discs that can slide back and forth — or be removed entirely. Each for a different phase of the moon. Onyx looks up at the manor, a large stone wall embedded with growing crystals.

It shields the large building, with an archway for a gate that shimmers with pale blue energy. Sapphire is closer, having climbed the dual-staircase that the fountain sits in the middle of, the stairs coiled around it like snakes.

She touches it and wrenches her stone-hand back, crystalline growths sprouting from her fingers. She snaps them against the wall.

So we have something blocking us?

Quartz gestures to the small discs. Inscribed on them are, unmistakably, phases of the moon.

Okay, well this is going to be annoying. Who even learns the phases of the moons? I’m not an astronaut.

Quartz fuddles around with the discs, placing them in a seemingly random order.

What are you doing, Quartz?

Quartz jumps, then looks at the discs almost sheepishly. He points to the first he’s placed in order — the new moon, then ascending with the amount of the moon’s surface lit up until it reaches the full moon, then lower and lower light until it’s back around to the new moon.

He counts the discs, then looks one more at the inscription, his finger hovering over each word. ’Life’ ’death’ ’fear’ ’bravery’ ’power’ ’low’ ’desire’ repentance’ — eight words, eight tiles.

The guardians seems hesitant to place the last one. Something catches Granite’s eye; a dark shape atop the wall to the manor, wrapped in a black cloak.

It doesn’t move, only watches, but it’s apparent from the way it breathes that it’s alive.

Granite stares at it, taking a step towards sapphire to put himself between her and the creature. Sapphire, in response, dips between his legs and stares up at the thing.

Onyx looks back at Quartz. He locks eyes with the white-crystal set in Quartz’s stoneskull and nods. He places the final disc. A whip of smoke blasts from the nocturnal statues, and when it disappears creatures emerge from the murky blues.

—

“Marching forward, hearts ablaze,

Through the fields, we find our ways

In unity, we stand so strong

With every step, we’ll right the wrong!”

Arden looks back. Nobody walks besides him now. The cart is stuffed to the gills, people piled on top of each other.

The guiding light had taken away some of the worry, but it was a short fix. So he had began to sing, as his mother had done for him.

“March on, march on with purpose true!

Our victory near, salvation in view!

With hope in our hearts, we’ll never resign,

March on, march on — our salvation we’ll find.”

—

Onyx lunges forward, towards a large, crystal-coated ogre. It bellows a roar and brings the crystalline hammer down. Onyx dodges, but the creature slides the thing across the ground, making a massive scar across the ground and forcing Onyx to abort his attack lest he get in the way.

Sapphire jumps back as a beam of blood-red light flashes through the air and scrapes stone in the spot she’d just been.

A wraith sits on atop one of the rock statues, small dinner-plate sized disks surrounding her form and holding aloft a staff that holds a dark red crystal suspended between two equally sized pieces of crude iron. The staff part of the staff is made from crystal.

[https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1022054419510075402/1173744564234887210/zlo3097_A_glowing_moon_wraith_with_large_blue_magical_shields_f_43cba6b3-bcce-4f8f-b5c8-0dc68d2a4dc4.png?ex=656511cf&is=65529ccf&hm=ab6b534752f68c161de814061295c4278e19ba594e8ec73a83aa0a8e87e6aca1&=&width=558&height=741]

Granite is shoved down the stairs by a large troll that roars in laughter and jumps down, aiming to crush the guardian under it’s bulbous mass. Granite places his arms up to defend himself and the two disappear into a cloud of smoke as the troll lands.

Quartz barely avoids a dagger aimed for his chest, then swings the pickaxe round to try catch the goblin that dances around him. The attack misses and the goblin scuttles close, cutting a deep mark into Quartz’ thigh. He steps back, then swings the pickaxe to make space.

Out of the cloud of smoke comes the rumbling body of Granite and the troll, intertwined in a locked dance of blows, each seemingly unable to hurt the other.

Onyx dips below a large blow, then jumps forward only to be pushed back — the ogre shoves out a fist and catches him, throwing him into the back of Granite’s foe, who smacks Onyx in the back with an elbow.

Onyx blocks it easily, or at least a lot easier than Granite blocks blows with his face.

Sapphire dips low, three spikes of crystallized blood spearing for her frame from a wraith that hovers ever so slighty atop the statue. Instead of them being dodged, she is thrown from the top of the stairs with three new fresh holes in her frame.

The trip to the bottom takes only a few seconds, and Onyx pulls her up.

Quartz jumps back, barely avoiding a blow from the Gorakhin. Granite grips the troll’s finger and wrenches it open, releasing himself from the grasp and backing up. All four of the guardians stand in a loose circle, and their four opponents come to stare at them, snickering or grinning — or just plainly brandishing their weapons.

They’re getting their asses kicked. I’m going to get them to retreat.

Before you do that, you should take note of this. The large troll is a VIT neophyte. He and this ’Granite’ you’ve made could smack each other all day. The goblin is a DEX neophyte — and you should already know how a STR neophyte does against them.

We’ll use this as an example; in no small part because I doubt you’ll ever figure it out on your own. Tell your guardians this: Onyx to attack the wraith, Quartz to fight the troll, Sapphire to fight the ogre and Granite to fight the goblin.

Alright, fine. Do that, guardians.

The guardians look at each other and then switch positions until they’re all closest to the ones the administrator said.

Now have them fight again — and see what a difference it makes.

The guardians don’t wait for Caau’s permission as the creatures rush them.

As the goblin goes for Quartz, Granite steps in the way, looking down at the little creature, shoving out a fist that barely misses the Gorakhin.

The creature cries out the next second as Granite follows him with little to no time left to recover. The next blow is just as slow as the first… and the goblin jumps away.

I'm not seeing how this is better.

Granite follows, lowering himself to all fours, charging like a rabid beast. When the goblin turns, he’s there. When it jumps, he jumps. It can’t get away, can’t ever get a moment to itself. It tires. Granite grabs it in the air after one too-slow jump, and drives it head-first into the fountain, placing what must be a half-tonne of stone all on its body. A splash of blood dyes the water red.

And now?

Shut.

Onyx jumps for the wraith, who brings the blood-red shields down to block his pickaxe. It doesn’t work. The energy in the shields screams. The first cracks, then the second, then the third. Only the fourth manages to cease Onyx’s blow.

The wraith screams like a banshee, putting her hand out and calling red energy from her staff into her hand; a short-range blast shoves out from her palm and pushes her back. Onyx places his pickaxe out, gripping tightly, blocking the attack. It has almost no effect on him.

Sapphire slides under a vicious blow from the ogre, then jumps up and stabs her little pickaxe into its shoulder before it can move again. She swings as it moves, using the pickaxe as fulcrum to launch herself onto one of the statues, landing gracefully and spinning to look back at the ogre.

Quartz lifts the pickaxe aloft, then brings it down onto the troll’s outstretched arm, piercing the flesh and pinning it to the floor.

When the troll punches out with its other hand, Quartz catches it with both his arms, gripping tightly. Golden wispy essence is sucked from his frame but he pulls himself forward, using both of the movement abilities to dash forward.

The troll’s arm is ripped apart as the pickaxe refuses to move, tearing the arm from forearm to wrist until the troll’s socket gives way and the arm is torn from its shoulder. It screams out in pain and wrenches its other arm from Quartz’ grip.

It grits sharp teeth; the arm begins to regrow — the muscles stretching over rapidly forming bones.

I think I get it. Sapphire’s having a field day with the ogre where Onyx was equally matched. So counters are quite important.

Perhaps an understatement but at least you’re intelligent enough to put together the pieces.

Wow, that almost sounded like a complement.

I assure you it was not. Moreover, it was a sigh of relief. It gets horrifically tedious to explain. For the quick rundown; you were either having them fight their own attribute, in which case they were more or less equally skilled and thus couldn’t gain an advantage. Or, you were having them fight their counter. That is a recipe for disaster unless they have support or a very specific set of skills to overcome that counter.

Okay, so like if a STR attributed-person had a bunch of skills that made them faster, that might make up the difference?

… Yes, I suppose, if the DEX user also did not take advantage of any of their Path-specific abilities. Or didn’t have them. These Guardians you have are not able to differentiate inherently. You must be the one to match them up.

Well, they’ve got a good matchup now. I don’t have to do anything more.

The guardians pull together as too do the monsters. There’s a certain air between the two forces now. The guardians seem more connected, more confident in their movement — and all of them look to Onyx.

Words pop into Caau’s mind.

[ Guardians Onyx, Quartz, Granite and Sapphire have reached Cohesion Level I ]

[ Would you like to form a new Squad? ]

Oh, yes, I forgot that was in this build.