Chris jumped down after the body of the last guard; the bodies of the Gnolls were stacked in a ramp so high that it would be possible to leap back up. He summoned his Beastblade and cut through the mangy monsters. It didn’t matter that the guard was dead, or System-generated; he had been used badly, as a sacrifice to ensure Dylan was the one who ended up in charge. He at least deserved a funeral.

Chris cut through the monsters surrounding the corpse. He seized it in one hand, then leapt back up onto the wall. The bodies shifted beneath him, but his footing was firm enough that the leap took him over the crenellations and onto the wall.

He laid the guard down, then looked back at the orbs floating in the sky. The one above Hartshire was dimming, but he doubted it would last for long. The other orbs in the distance waned before waxing bright in another pulse, acting like continuous pulses above what he imagined to be settlements. Hopefully they would fade naturally over time.

Like the one above Hartshire, many of the floating globes were gold. Chris turned toward Kingscastle. The orb above his keep was gold as well, with just the faintest hint of green. Gold must be the human color.

Given the predominance of gold orbs in the night sky, there was only one conclusion: humans were dicks. That, or Dylan had just doomed the human race by removing Starter Protections for everyone.

Chris returned his attention to the corpse of the guard. Even in the short time that it had been among them, the Gnolls had slashed it up pretty bad. The clothes were tattered rags, and drenched in sweat and blood. He looked at the eyes. Like those of the other guard, they were glassy and bloodshot as well.

He pressed his hands over the guard’s face and closed his unblinking eyes. The man’s face was still hot and sticky, as if he’d been running a high fever. Chris’ hand paused, he felt a tremor wrack through his own chest as if a vise had closed around his heart.

His vision went blurry and he stumbled, bracing one hand against the crenellations for support.

He retched, and he felt the Slime in his veins contract.

He’d been poisoned, and whatever the poison was, it was strong.

His chest was tight, and he felt his heart pause in its beating for just a moment, before resuming as the Slime within his veins rallied and continued pushing blood around his body.

Then the moment passed. The nausea and dizziness faded slightly and he straightened, heaving in breath. Sweat rolled down his forehead. He felt hot and panic still flittered in his chest—although having some of his mana entering his meridians unopposed helped abate that.

This was the second time he’d survived poison. He wiped his forehead and sat down against the crenellations, finally realizing there was someone standing over him. Philip.

“Sir Christopher, are you okay?”

Chris waved him away, panting. “I’ll be fine.” His head slumped back and he stared up at the orb in the sky above.

He tried to think of what it could have been. He hadn’t eaten anything from Dylan.

What about drinking anything? Nothing from Dylan either. What about Gregor’s beer? Could the poisoner have been Gregor? But Gregor had drunk some of it as well.

Chris paled. If Dylan had known about Gregor wanting to share his booze with others… then…

He frowned. That seemed a little convoluted, a bit too unlikely to work. Yet, if it was the case, then Gregor would be dead as well by now. The big man didn’t have his poison resist.

It was just by chance that, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a house vanish into oblivion. And what if Gregor—now dead—hadn’t found Dylan yet? Another house disappeared.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

What if Dylan had access to the settlement’s control pedestal? Like a wave, the destruction of the houses began to spread. A bad feeling, one separate from the poison, churned in his gut. What if, after wiping out the Hartshire leadership, Dylan wanted to wipe out most of the capable fighters as well? Would he get the kill credit?

“Get off the wall!”

“What?” Philip said.

Chris pointed to the vanishing houses, then leaped down to the road. “The wall’s about to disappear!”

The shout carried along the length of the wall, and soon people were scrambling to get down from the defenses.

The first section of wall disappeared, and one human fell screaming. The man was caught up in a wave of Gnoll bodies, alive and dead, that poured into Hartshire through the breach. Another hole appeared in the wall. The section had already been emptied though, so no one else died. Then the destruction of the wall began to accelerate. Humans trying to plug the gaps fell back into narrow streets, flanked by houses on either side—praying that the houses protecting them wouldn’t suddenly fade into nothing.

More houses, and more of the wall disappeared. Chris heard screams as Gnoll claws began to sink into flesh once again. He ran toward the nearest breach in the wall as monsters flooded the town.

Chris moved the long spear to his left hand, then turned his right fist to rock with Stone Form.

He charged into the fray, spear weaving arcs through the monsters. His fist split skulls whenever a monster got too close for him to lash out with the spear.

He could have used his Beast Soul Weapons, but the situation was more precarious now. Stone Form required no mana to use. His Soul Weapons did. It was an easy choice. He couldn’t afford to waste a limited resource.

The tide of monsters from his section of breached wall stemmed as he wiped out a small village worth of Gnolls within a minute. He marched forward, stepping over the corpses of felled monsters—and the occasional human—as he plugged the gap in the wall.

He held the breach, piling up monsters in front of him. It was a losing fight. The wall was broken in more than one place and Gnolls continued to enter through undefended holes in the wall.

The only mercy was that the buildings and walls had stopped disappearing. What was going on? Was Gregor alive? Had he taken Dylan out by now, and, if so, how had he survived the poison?

Then he heard a shout behind him. “More walls! In the town center! Quick!”

Chris continued striking out ahead, but turned his head to see what was happening. Indeed, at the center of the town, he saw stone walls rising

Humans began running toward the walls, making a fighting retreat. Then some began to break formation—making for the walls.

Then the worst happened. More of Hartshire began disappearing. What was going on? Were they being toyed with? The destruction of buildings should have been near instantaneous. Chris clenched his teeth. He was going to kill Dylan.

The disappearances happened quicker and quicker. And soon the retreating humans were exposed on all sides. Formations began to waver and more fled for the walls at the center of town.

Gnolls moved around, tearing across the newly cleared field of mud.

Then something else disappeared. The ground.

The illusion of a muddy field vanished. The first Gnoll dropped with a startled yelp into a newly revealed pitfall.

The humans’ disorganized rout slowed and they quickly returned to formation—but not quickly enough to save those who had already fallen to Gnoll claws.

Chris momentarily returned his right arm to normal, then bent down and tossed a Gnoll corpse forward with all the strength he could muster. The monsters trying to cram themselves into the breach were bowled aside, giving Chris the opportunity to run.

He sprinted toward one of the avenues along which everyone was retreating to the center of Hartshire. Just in time. The wooden walls he’d been defending disappeared in an instant, along with the rest of the buildings.

He’d sealed the nearby breach by himself, so the nearest path—the one he ran down—was mostly clear of Gnolls. He cut them down as he passed, finally reaching the humans.

There were far more on his path than on any other—probably because it had the fewest monsters on it.

“I’ll keep the Gnolls away, get to the walls,” he called ahead of him. “Defend them if you are able.”

The people paused, then turned and fled to safety.

Chris continued cutting down the rabid monsters as if they were poppies as he gazed at the last defensible area of Hartshire.

He almost stopped when he saw the gates were still shut, but as if waiting for just that moment, they burst open and giant dressed in bulky, black armor came striding out.

The giant’s hands blurred and a massive axe flew through the air at a speed that confounded the eye. The weapon mowed down a dozen Gnolls that had a human group hard pressed.

The giant held out his hand and the axe flew back toward him. Its handle settled into his palm with the thwack of wood on steel, audible even above the calls of the Gnolls.

The giant paused for a moment, as all eyes turned toward him. Then with a roar, he charged into the fray.

Chris’ brain finally caught up to his disbelieving eyes. He should be dead.

Gregor.