“Heyo, incoming!”

Ron bounds down the stairs in the same moment as the Sluagh flits into the room, its wispy cloak casting shadows across the floor. Behind him, Luci tentatively nocks an arrow, then fires it into the eyeless head stretching from the enemy’s shoulder. Recoiling, the head twists around to seek out just who had the audacity to pull that stunt while the rest of the Sluagh descends toward the grieving teens below.

New Status!

Aura of Howling Fear: Death is here. Your movements have been slowed. Physical attacks do 50% less damage. This status cannot be nullified.

And just like that, it’s like I’m stuck in a Chicago blizzard. The cold feels raw in my throat as I struggle for air. Every move is like I’m frozen in ice.

In a blink, the phantom falls upon Hayato, wrapping its arms and legs around him like it wants a piggy-back. Its splintered fingernails dig into the boy’s chest. Then all three remaining heads rear back before their rotten teeth sink into his flesh.

Hayato screams as the most ghastly sucking noise fills the room. It’s throaty and heaving, long coarse gasps followed by deep resonant gulps.

Everyone’s in the room now, and it’s absolute chaos. Arrows zip overhead followed by a ball of fire and some kind of concussive blast from Shota. Elias rounds the back, trying to find an in, but ends up pulling back his slash just in time to dodge another of Shota’s attacks. I’d try to join in too, but I feel slow as shit, and I’m not ready to cosplay as a pincushion.

Of course, Ron has no such qualms. He goes ahead and slaps his sword against the enemy’s side as a rogue arrow grazes his arm. Even for Ron, his moves look sluggish.

Two arrows sprout from the Sluagh’s shoulder-head as fire and air smacks it in the face. The enemy shivers but remains latched.

More arrows, more magic. In seconds, Hayato has gone pale, like the Sluagh is consuming his very essence. Beside him, Eita just huddles, hands over his head.

Then, finally, a shot from Luci pins the shoulder-head for a final time. Its neck wilts and the head slumps right off the Sluagh’s body and onto the portal, like melted ice cream slipping off of a cone.

Turning incorporeal once again, the phantom dashes back up the stairs. Shota catches Hayato as he sags to the floor.

Two heads remain: the chest-burster and the original, which I assume won’t die until the other drops off. In other words, just a few more attacks before one of us strikes the final blow and the visa extension is rewarded.

My eyes catch Elias’ before we both glance at Dave and Melinda. There’s no way they’ll let this opportunity slide. They’re going to attack us; it’s just a matter of time. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t already.

As if reading our minds, Dave winks at Elias before giving chase to the Sluagh, Melinda following close behind.

The berserker is a little less subtle. He’s short and stocky, his shoulders hunched. One foot propped on the steps, he levels his sword toward us. “Follow us and you’re dead. That goes for all of you.” Then he darts up the stairs after his team.

Luci shuffles back as she watches him go, her face blanched and fist clenched. I run to her side, resting a hand on her arm.

“You alright?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. He’s just been a jerk is all.” It’s a purposeful understatement. The poor girl looks terrified. She nudges open the flap of her bag and peeks inside.

“Frog okay too?”

“Mm-hmm.”

On the portal, the Japanese kids are in shambles. Kenji is dead, his blood pooled around him. Eita is cowering. Hayato has collapsed and is shaking like he’s deathly cold. Shota is the only one among them who appears to be in fighting shape, but I doubt he’ll join in. His friend in his arms, he clenches his staff and locks his eyes on the stairs. If he moves to attack the Sluagh, his teammates will be sitting ducks.

Ron strolls across the room, aimlessly swishing his sword. “That dude is a major grade A dickwad.”

“Elias, you had the choice to pick Varangian Guard, right? What can he do?” I ask. “Short version.”

His brow furrows in concentration. “A series of three consecutive attacks. They’re extremely strong, however he can’t stop once he begins. He can also perform a whirlwind attack with a strong chance of crippling his enemy. I’m unaware of his Level 10 ability. He may be at a disadvantage as his sword is only one-handed.”

“Okay. Melinda can make her weapon fiery, shoot fireballs with a ten second cooldown, and turn into an invulnerable flame,” I rattle off quickly. “And Dave… I don’t know. He has some kind of triple shot, he can redirect his arrows, he can jump and kinda hover there. His bow looks fancy so I don’t know if those are all class abilities. There might be more. And I have no idea what Level 20’s got, but I’m guessing he’s reached it. Maybe they all have.”

“What matters is the monster. However, should they attack, allow me to handle the archer. If Ron can head off the Varangian Guard, then perhaps Luci… Luci?”

Luci is backed up against the wall, arms folded around her and teeth chattering. Her haunted eyes stare at the portal.

“Luce, you okay?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” she says, her voice quaking. “I’m sorry. I tried. You were right. I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Hey now.” Daggers sheathed, I grab her shoulders. “You’ve got this. It’s just a couple more hits ‘til we’re done. And if the rest of ‘em are going to be assholes about it, we’ll protect you. You know that.”

“You keep saying if. If they attack. If they’re assholes. You know they’re going to. You know they are. That man. When it was just us, he kept saying… he was saying…”

Ron crosses his arms. “Psh, that dude’s got nothin’ on you, button. He lost two axes to an overgrown snake.”

She swallows, glancing at her uncle. “Why can’t we just leave?”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Elias takes a deep breath, brow furrowed, and I’m almost sure he will tell her to sit this one out, like he always does. “There is no guarantee they will leave us alone once the monster is defeated, and returning to Pharos with so little time to spare is a great risk.”

Her head shakes. “I want them to hurt. Is that wrong?”

I exchange glances with Elias. “I don’t know, Luce. I think morality kinda changes when the world ends.”

She nods, then says quietly, “It’s like he said then. This is the new reality.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t start quoting that bastard quite yet.” I sigh, taking her hand. “Listen. You can always kick the can down the road in the hopes that you’ll get a better shot later. But the fact is that life never gives you perfect opportunities. It gives you shit. It gives you pain. And the longer you stay on a path you can’t stand, the farther you have to claw back. Believe me. So if you really don’t want to, we’ll wait for the portal, and we’ll take our chances with the time we have left. But the perfect opportunity isn’t handed to you. It’s when you decide to fight.”

Above us, the Sluagh howls. There isn’t much time left.

“Now, do you want to get the visa extension?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“And pretending your uncle isn’t glaring at me, you want to hurt those assholes, right?”

“Yeah. But if something happens to you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Then don’t let anything happen to us,” I reply. “And we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I can turn you invisible. Don’t tell me what’s not possible.”

“Okay.” Teeth gritted, Luci draws an arrow from her quiver. “Let’s do this.”

I give Ron a nod. And then a shove, because he clearly doesn’t get it. After giving his classic ‘rock-on’ gesture, he launches up the stairs two at a time. Dagger and scian in hand, I run after him with Luci and Elias close behind.

Reaching the top of the tower, my breath is stolen by the view. It’s Laserian’s observatory, so it’s almost entirely made of windows. Around us, the sky has darkened with the threat of rain as the fog steadily rises. It feels like we’re in a flying fortress, hovering low above a mocking abyss.

Otherwise, since the room doubles as a game space, there isn’t all that much to it. Beneath a lofty domed ceiling, there’s a telescope, a plush armchair, a few short scroll stacks, and a vibrant rug already splattered in ichor and blood.

The howl of the dead hits us for a third and hopefully final time. The world slows to a painful, chilling crawl as the air is sucked from my lungs.

The berserker spins around and raises his sword overhead. “Told you to stay down!”

“Oh, cut it out, Antony,” scoffs Melinda. She launches a fiery sphere at the rafters, catching the phantom’s chest-head in the face. The ghost howls as embers rain down. “Eye on the prize.”

Snarling, Antony’s attention darts between us as if gauging which of us he’ll attack first. He doesn’t get the chance to decide. In a puff of withering black tendrils, the phantom dissipates, then reappears between us before unleashing a wave of energy that ripples across the room.

Ron lunges in front of us, consuming most of the blast. On the other side of the Sluagh, the berserker braces against the attack, not moving an inch, while Dave leaps above it. Melinda isn’t so lucky. The wave smacks her in full force, throwing her backwards.

She still hasn’t used her invulnerable flame ability. She’s waiting.

A split-second later, the phantom evaporates again. I’m not sure where it went until I see the archer twist around, dodging the fully corporeal Sluagh with an insane backwards leap. Mid-air, the archer aims like a pro and looses an arrow directly into its second head.

It’s a bullseye. With an ear-piercing shriek, the vessel of the dead falls to the ground in a heap, the head on its chest rotting into a wrinkled walnut before dropping off. With its final superfluous head gone, the Aura of Howling Fear melts away.

The monster quakes with anger. The monster howls. The monster writhes.

But the monster does not get up.

It’s still alive. Immobilized, but alive, awaiting the final strike that will decide the end to all this dumb chaos. If the other party is going to attack us, it’ll be now.

As the monster lies prone, time stops - figuratively. I feel like I need to be clear in this sort of context. But it feels like we’re frozen, stuck in a Renaissance tableau. I’m poised just in front of the stairway, blades in hand, one foot back as I prepare to shadowstep. Beside me, Elias throws his leather satchel to the floor as he brings his sword into a tactical guard.

Like a wall, Ron poses stalwart before us. His longsword looks like a twig in his meaty hands. He’s holding it like a baseball bat because of course he is. To our right, her back against the window, stands Luci, her bow aimed at the enfeebled monster but her focus fixed on the archer. Her back is straight, eyes narrow. ‘Atta girl.

Antony, the berserker, is positioned a couple feet in front of Ron. He’s facing the Sluagh, but if I’m right, he’s just about to turn. At the far end of the room, Melinda climbs to her feet, the growing flame in her hand casting her face in an orange glow.

And finally, there’s the damned archer, Dave. As his feet touch the ground, he’s already nocking another arrow. He’s not even looking at the monster anymore. He’s looking at Antony, his expression sealed in determination. He’s giving his man the go-ahead.

Reviewing the picture unfolding before me, I can see it clearly now. I thought, perhaps, if I had made a different decision along the way - a smarter decision, a more moral choice, something more mature - that I could have avoided a moment like this. How many times have I regretted something I’ve said? How many times did I think a greater person, someone more well-adjusted, could have changed the outcome for the better?

I just wanted Luci to stay whole. But you can’t pull someone back from the brink when the brink is all there is. All you can do is leap in first so they have somewhere soft to fall.

Warning! You’ve attacked another party.

Dave - Trick-Shot Tembo (Level 20)

Melinda - Cultist of the Mystic Fire (Level 19)

Antony - Varangian Guard (Level 20)

I dodge around Ron and swipe my poison blade across the berserker’s arm in the same moment as he whips around, slashing his sword into Ron’s. The blades clash as both men lock themselves into an immovable battle: Ron in his defensive stance, Antony in his relentless attack. But Antony is weakened, green foam seeping from his pores.

A split-second later, Luci fires into the archer’s back. The archer winces, his shoulderblade punctured by her arrow. With a growl, he reaches back and grabs it, spinning on his heels to face his attacker. Luci’s eyes go wide as she fumbles for her quiver.

Just as the archer draws the bloody arrow into his bow, Elias surges forward. This time, Dave’s ready. Dodging Elias’ charge, the archer leaps inhumanly high and fires. The arrow becomes three. One punches Elias in the chest, another hits the wall, and the third explodes into splinters as Luci uses her Steady Aim ability to shoot it out of the air.

That’s the last I see of them, for the time being. After a few quick stabs into the berserker’s back - hopefully giving Ron a leg up -, I shadowstep behind Melinda where I use my poison blade again. Then I summon a decoy in my place as I shadowstep a second time behind the Sluagh.

It’s perfect. Both participants flounder, toxic sweat beading on their skin, while I deal the final blow to the monster. With my scian, I stab down into the spirit’s neck, then ram my dagger into its temple.

Only, my dagger never hits its target. The hideous bitch turns to smoke in my hands.

So close. I was so close.

The Sluagh soars right through me before it swoops across the room. Melinda flings a fireball at it, missing, then covers her sword in fire as she sprints forward. She’s the only one who can hit it, and I’m the only one who can stop her.

I don’t need to shadowstep; I’m fast enough as it is. I leap, tackling her to the ground as I dig my blades into her spine. She screams, and the next thing I know I’m hugging fire.

Pain sears through me, blistering agony stinging every inch of exposed skin. Crying out, I hit the floor and immediately press myself against the soothing chill of the stone. The living flame disappears; I have no idea where. I can’t see. My eyeballs feel like they’ve been stabbed.

I don’t know what my health is at, and I don’t care. I down a health draught anyway. Instant relief floods my system like ice-water to the veins.

My eyes snap open. There isn’t enough time to act. Melinda’s fiery figure levitates across the room unchallenged. I scream at Ron to mute her, but it’s too late. Like a match to a wick, she engulfs the Sluagh.

With an immortal shriek, the phantom erupts into flame and burns straight to ash.