Now, Earth
One-eye held her ear to the dining room door for several long seconds.
She held up two fingers then pointed to the door. Then she pointed up toward the second floor.
PK shook his head. He couldn’t hear a thing behind the door.
Mouthy took the door handle and waited for everyone to nod.
She thrust it open to reveal four guards lazing at their posts. Two were actually sitting down on the steps.
Mouthy thrust her machete into one’s throat, while PK punched the second guard’s face in.
That’s why helmets were good things to wear when there was a chance of being in a fight.
One-eye dashed up the stairs and stuck her long knife in a guard’s neck.
Catscratch was only a few steps behind despite carrying a large shield and heavy axe.
The remaining guard had barely gotten to his feet when Catscratch buried his axe in the guard’s head.
Helmets saved lives.
The others rushed through the living room door and found zero opposition.
They got lucky with the fact that the double doors leading to the west wing’s second floor rooms were closed. It allowed them to get into their positions without needing to rush.
At Sgt. Butcher’s silent signal PK pushed the doors open.
Four guards stood at the double doors at the end of a long hallway.
Catscratch rushed down the right side behind his shield with PK on his heels.
Mouthy’s MP5 barked in a staccato of bursts, shattering the silence and kicking the hornet’s nest open.
Two guards went down.
Aims fired two shots.
The other two guards dropped.
Down below on the first floor, guards began pouring out of the hallway only to meet concentrated gunfire.
“Idiots,” Iz laughed. “Oh, I hear guns, let’s all go charging blindly into them.”
“They did seem… eager to get up stairs,” Smores said. “Maybe a spell. Baal prioritizing his safety.”
“Sarge,” Aims called down, “we’ve got a problem up here.”
Smores looked thoughtful. “How many guards were up there?”
“Six total, two at the stairs and four outside the master bedroom.”
Smores counted the bodies on the first floor while Hardhat and Two-toes dragged them away from the hallway door. “Seven here, so a total of thirteen down. Rayna’s brother said twenty. Which means seven left.”
“They’re probably hunkered down in there,” Sgt. Butcher gestured down the hallway.
Smores nodded. “I agree. I don’t think Baal will have any in the master bedroom with him.”
“Aims, check the kid’s rooms.”
“On it, sarge.”
“We need to hit them both at the same time, quickly. I don’t like giving a mage time to prepare,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“What about the babies? The guards might use them as shields or decide to go scorched earth,” Hardhat said.
“If we go fast we can maybe catch them off guard before they think to do that, but again it’ll open us up to more risk,” Smores said.
“Smores, get up there with Chains,” Sgt. Butcher said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Iz, I need a lullaby.”
“You got it, sarge.” Iz readied his ukulele.
Sgt. Butcher pulled the shield off her back and switched her MP5 for her 9mm pistol. “I’ll take point. Hardhat, Two-toes be ready to step in and tank for Iz.”
“Ear plugs everyone, unless you want to take a nap,” Iz grinned. “After you, sarge.”
Sgt. Butcher pushed through the shot-up remains of the doors with her pistol peaking around her shield.
Iz followed closely on her heels strumming a tune on his ukulele.
“Ooh-ooh-ohh…”
His voice was soft, melodious, much like his namesake.
“Somewhere over the rainbow…”
Hardhat and Two-toes checked the doors on the sides of the hallway as soon as Sgt. Butcher and Iz passed.
Storage closets.
“High above the chimney tops…”
A roar caused Iz to strum the wrong string.
A guard charged out of a door on the left.
Pop-pop-pop.
Sgt. Butcher’s pistol hit center mass.
Bloody chainmail rings flew, but the bear of a man kept coming.
Rage seemed to roil off the man like steam.
He struck at Sgt. Butcher’s shield with a ham-sized fist, cracking it and sending her flying back into Iz.
Hardhat went high, leaping at the man’s throat with a thrust machete
He clubbed her to the floor with a hammer blow to the top of her hard hat.
The man roared in pain.
While Hardhat had gone high, Two-toes had gone low and stabbed her blade into his meaty thigh.
The ranger didn’t have time to savor the death blow as a foot lashed out at her head. She barely managed to roll out of the way.
Unfortunately for her she was flat on her back staring up at an enraged giant of a man.
Hardhat saved her teammate with a steel-toed boot to the man’s junk.
Two-toes scampered back as the man doubled over for a moment.
Until he unleashed a backhand that caught Hardhat while she was admiring her handiwork. The blow caught her in her armored chest and sent her cracking into the wall. She slumped to the ground in an unmoving heap.
Sgt. Butcher emptied the rest of her magazine into the man’s chainmail covered torso.
He fixed her with a red-eyed glare. He paid no heed to the bright lifeblood flowing out of the mortal wound in his thigh.
“How is he not dead yet!” Iz’s voice was high.
“Get back!” Sgt. Butcher tried to reload her pistol, but her left arm wasn’t moving properly.
The man loomed over Sgt. Butcher. His boot ready to descend.
Music filled the hallway.
“That’s right asshole,” Iz walked backward slowly as he strummed his ukulele, “you hate this don’t you. Come and stop me.”
The man forgot all about everyone else. He was a bull and Iz’s music was a waving cape. He charged.
Iz turned to run, but the man was so quick in his rage.
A powerful blow sent Iz flying into the wall.
He rolled over painfully only for a hand to lift him up roughly by the throat.
Iz’s vision darkened as the fist crushed with the strength of a vise. He drew his knife, desperately stabbing and slashing at the man’s arm.
There was a loud crack.
“No!” Sgt. Butcher roared.
Two-toes grabbed her machete off the ground and charged at the man’s broad back.
But, the man toppled face-first like a felled tree before she reached him.
That didn’t stop Two-toes from chopping until the man’s head rolled free from his body.
“Ranger!” Sgt. Butcher barked.
Two-toes removed her ear plugs. “Yes, sir,” she replied tonelessly.
Sgt. Butcher dropped her shield with a grimace and checked on Hardhat.
Breathing, but unconscious.
“We need to work quickly. Six more guards to neutralize before they wake from Iz’s song,” Sgt. Butcher glanced at Iz’s crumpled body, like a puppet discarded on the floor.
“On it, sarge,” Two-toes’ voice was devoid of emotion.
They completed their grim work in silence.
The remaining guards didn’t wake despite the loud noises and shaking from above.
Mercifully, the babies in the exercise room turned nursery had also been put to sleep.
Iz’s last gift to them.
----------------------------------------
The doors to the master bedroom wouldn’t open.
They were also providing impervious to damage.
Catscratch’s axe blows did nothing.
As did PK’s gauntleted fists.
Mouthy spat on the doors. “What about kicking?”
“I don’t kick,” PK said flatly.
“Fuck you too then.”
“Are the other rooms clear?” Smores said.
“Yeah, just a bunch of scared toddlers, told them to hide under their beds,” Aims shrugged.
“You moron!” One-eye snapped.
“Probably be for the little tykes’ best that we move them to the opposite side of the house,” Chains said.
“Mouthy, gather the children and take them to the basement, I believe those people down there are responsible for the children’s care anyways.”
“Why me?”
“Because your strengths are duplicated by Catscratch and Pk. Simply put, you are their inferior… no offense.”
Mouthy shoved two fingers in Smores’ face.
He barely blinked.
“Once you are done, then join the sergeant. In the event that we get into trouble up here. You will be our only hope.”
Mouthy barged into a bedroom and started shouting at the kids.
“Bad call, Smores,” Chain’s smirked. She went into another bedroom and gently cajoled the kids out to follow Auntie Mouthy to a safe place.
It didn’t take long before the bedrooms were empty and the kids were following Mouthy with their hands linked.
“I am looking forward to bashing Baal’s face in,” PK said.
“What do you think they’re doing with the kids?” Aims’ face was twisted in disgust. “Is this place like a breeding farm?”
“Yes,” Smores said flatly. “Now, One-eye, Aims, I’m assuming the master bedroom has windows. Do you think you can climb outside?”
“Easy.” One-eye looked like a hungry predator.
Aims twirled his revolvers before slamming them into their holsters. “Oh yeah, no problem. This Baal’s got a couple of bullets with his name on them.”
“Presumably, Baal needs to breathe, which means—”
“I’m up then,” Chains took a cigar out of her belt pouch. A flick of her lighter and an earthy scent soon filled the hallway.
“Go,” Smores said.
Aims and One-eye climbed out of bedroom windows opposite of each other.
Smores counted in his head.
The distance wasn’t great and from what he remembered of the mansion’s exterior there was plenty of space to simple walk around to the master bedroom’s windows.
“Now, Chains!”
The smoke from Chain’s cigar moved like a nest of snakes as it sought the gaps in the doors.
“Catscratch, be ready to tank for Chains in case Baal attacks.”
“If he doesn’t?”
“At the sound of Aim’s guns or One-eye’s flashbang, break the doors down. Hopefully, something will distract the mage from whatever magic he’s got making these doors tough. You and PK will engage. I’ll worry about keeping a clear line for myself to Baal.”
Seconds stretched out for what seemed like eternity.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
A loud roar from below was followed by the sound of gunshots.
They couldn’t worry about the rest of their squad now.
Two more gunshots from the other side of the door.
Breaking glass.
A loud bang and a flash of light underneath the door.
Catscratch slammed his shield into the doors with all of his weight.
They broke this time.
The horrific scene would be burned into the survivor’s minds for the rest of their days.
The cloud of Chains’ smoke wasn’t enough to obscure the terrible sight.
Baal, a pudgy bald man, stood naked, blood covering his entire front, in all his disgusting glory.
A naked young man was prone on the large bed. His back had been sliced to bloody ribbons, blood dripped down the backs of his legs.
The young woman’s brother.
One look into his sightless eyes told Smores that they were too late.
Faster.
They should’ve been faster.
Aims was outside the broken window to the right, blazing away with his six-shooters.
The bullets bounced off Baal’s mage shield.
Good.
They all knew how it worked.
A mage couldn’t cast attack spells while inside a spherical-type mage shield.
Baal would need to drop it before attacking.
“You dare! Attack me at the height of my power! In my domain!” Baal unscrewed a small jar of thick dark-colored liquid and downed it one gulp. “The master has granted me a great gift. One which I now share with you.”
Smores’ eyes widened. “Attack!” He had felt the man’s magical power surge.
Aims holstered one revolver. “Enhanced Aim. Fanned Shots.” He squeezed the trigger while slapping the hammer back after each shot. It sounded like a rapid-fire machine gun.
Six bullets in a perfect line, one after another, hit the same spot on Baal’s magic shield.
It flared with light as cracks began to spiderweb from the impact point.
Aims had switched to his second revolver and repeated the attack in two blinks of an eye.
The shield shattered with a screeching sound.
“Bleed. Quick Feet.” One-eye moved through the open window and covered the dozen feet to Baal faster than humanly possibly. She stabbed a short, triangular knife into small of the man’s back. “Hamstring.” She drew her long knife across the back of the man’s left leg, cutting deep.
“Pain Claws!” Baal bellowed and swung around with a wild swipe.
“Hide!” One-eye threw herself back into the shadows to avoid the ugly-looking ethereal outline around Baal’s hand.
Baal’s eyes darted frantically, but One-eye was just gone.
“Ice Dart.”
Baal ducked his head to one side. Cold sliced a line across the side of his scalp.
Smores was pointing his right hand at Baal. “Catscratch, I need a taunt! Chains…”
“He’s ignoring my magic!”
“Keep trying.”
“Die Shithead!” Catscratch banged the haft of his axe on his shield.
Baal faced Catscratch and started to raise a hand, but forced it down with an effort. “I am Level 25!” he bared his teeth. “None of you are even 20! You think you can control me with your weak Skill.”
A loud pop sounded.
Blood splattered out of Baal’s chest.
A small sliver of ice, trailing mist, streaked into Baal’s shoulder.
Smores held a smoking pistol in his left hand, while cold mist swirled around his right hand. “The distraction worked well enough.”
“Absorb Pain. Enhance Strength. Toughen Skin. Lesser Regeneration.” Baal hissed through clenched teeth as he pulled the dissolving ice sliver from his shoulder.
The man’s body swelled with magic power as his wounds slowly began to knit themselves.
Baal growled. “I am the master’s greatest disciple. I have honed my Pain Mage Class on the suffering of thousands. Men, women, children… I have spared none! All of you will know as they did… that there is no hope in my hands, just pain.” He pointed at Smores. “You will be first you inferior worm. I will wipe that smug look off your black face you dirty ni—”
Smores' pistol barked in quick succession.
The bullets struck Baal center mass, pushing him back a few paces.
“No penetration!” PK clanged his gauntleted fists together and stepped forward. “I’ll keep him busy.”
“Wait—”
“Pain Whip!”
An ugly, black-cored lash emerged from Baal’s outstretched hand.
“Mage Shield!”
Light blue light shimmered, outlining Smores’ body.
Baal’s spell struck and shattered the shield around Smores.
The young man fell to one knee, huffing.
He felt like he had been tased, but it seemed that his magic shield had absorbed most of the damage.
“Pain Bolts!”
PK dodged to one side.
Catscratch blocked the bolt with his shield.
Chains cried out in pure agony as she writhed on the floor.
“Normally I wouldn’t put my full power into these simple bolts, but you have angered me,” Baal sneered, “the woman’s heart will give out in thirty seconds.”
“Catscratch!” Smores said in desperation.
Catscratch glanced at Baal then looked at Chains. “Protect.”
The effect was instantaneous.
Chains stopped writhing. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she sobbed.
Catscratch stumbled away from the doorway. The veins in his neck writhed like worms as he clenched his jaw shut to avoid biting his tongue due to the pain wracking his body.
“Fast Footwork.” PK shuffled in. “Automatic Combinations.” He could visualize the punching combo and as long as he started it with the first punch, his body would follow through to the best of its ability. He hoped it would allow him to power through Baal’s pain-inducing spells.
The big, long-limbed ranger started it out with a textbook jab, straight to Baal’s face, bouncing the man’s head back.
Baal swung out with wild, looping strikes. No technique, but fast, thanks to his enhancement spells.
PK ducked under and struck back with a rapid, four punch combo. Left hook, right hook to Baal’s sides, which brought the man’s head down in line for an uppercut, snapping the man’s head up. PK followed and landed another hook to the side of Baal’s head.
Smores had already reloaded his magazine, but couldn’t get a clear shot. His mana was dangerously low. Blocking Baal’s magic whip had drained him.
PK was battering Baal all over the master bedroom.
The deranged Pain Mage couldn’t lay a hand on the much larger ranger, while PK’s gauntleted punches were finally taking their toll on Baal’s magically-thickened skin.
“Power Punch!” PK crushed Baal’s face in.
Baal fell to one knee.
PK stepped back, huffing, gasping for breath. He had burned through much of his stamina.
Baal spat out broken teeth while blood gushed from a broken nose.
“Useless.”
Baal clumsily dived at PK’s legs.
The ranger scrambled back and punched the man’s head.
Perhaps he could’ve gotten out of reach if he hadn’t tripped over the corner of the four-poster bed.
Baal wrapped his arms around PK’s legs.
“Pain Transfer.”
Smores would never forget the sound that came out of PK’s throat. It sounded like an animal.
Baal stood over PK’s writhing form. “All that effort… wasted. No one left to take the pain away, is there? Enjoy the last moments of your life before your heart bursts in your chest,” he sneered.
“Penetrating Blade,” One-eye whispered. “Backstab.”
Baal choked on his own blood as One-eye left her knife in his back.
“Can’t heal with that in there, can you?” One-eye slashed her long knife in tight arcs at the flailing Baal.
His magically strengthened skin was like thick leather and the ranger wasn’t drawing much blood despite her best efforts to carve him up.
Fights were often decided by luck and misfortune. They were especially impactful when both sides were equally matched.
This wasn’t one of those cases.
Baal got lucky when One-eye’s blade got stuck in his arm.
One-eye was unlucky when it jarred her enough that she misplaced her foot and slipped on a puddle of blood near the bed.
Down she went.
Baal jumped on top of her and bashed her head repeatedly. His fists were like hammers thanks to his spells.
Aims and Smores emptied their guns into Baal, but regular bullets weren’t doing enough damage.
“Smores! Blind him!”
“How—” Smores pointed a finger at Baal. “Light.”
An orb of bright white light popped into existence in front of Baal’s face.
The Pain Mage yelled and stood up swinging his hands around him wildly.
“Over here, asshole!” Aims was crouched outside the window.
Baal faced the sound of the rangers voice reflexively, eyes blinking frantically in an attempt to clear the bright stars. “Pain Bolt!” he snarled.
The magic projectile struck the wall without effect.
Aim’s sighted down the barrel of his six-shooter. “Bullseye.”
The bullet tore through Baal’s eye.
He stood still for a second before collapsing to the floor like a puppet without strings.
Luck and misfortune in a fight turned as easily as the flip of the coin.
Smores hurried over and squeezed a few more rounds into Baal’s head.
The way the man’s head exploded all over Smores’ boots suggested he was truly dead.
No more magic.
Smores looked at the carnage around him.
The scent of blood, sweat and excrement filled the enormous master bedroom.
Catscratch and Chains were making noises out in the hallway.
“Cover them,” Smores pointed as Aims climbed in through the window.
One look at PK and One-eye told Smores that they were gone.
He checked anyways.
A mistake.
The look in PK’s eyes and what was left of One-eye’s face would haunt Smores.
“I told you,” Smores whispered down at One-eye, “open-faced helmets suck, but no, you said you just had to stick to the shadows and you wouldn’t get hit.” The ranger took a deep breath. “Damn you guys for dying on me and damn me for screwing this up for you.”
A loud chime sounded in Smores’ ears.
The look on Aims’ face suggested the same.
Neither felt like checking the spires’ message at the moment.
----------------------------------------
Chaos born of rage.
No.
Wrath.
Cal watched it all unfold below him.
The rangers and the Cabal’s forces had abandoned all sense.
They tore into each other mindlessly.
Weapons were forgotten, but curiously they still used their spells and Skills.
A severe-faced woman fired spells without regard, draining her mana to dangerous levels. She was effective though, judging by carpet of ranger bodies on the basement floor where she fought. The rest of the mansion above was an abattoir. It had been the most heavily defended among the five and it had cost the rangers to reach the Cabal mage.
The woman had finally overdrawn on her mana reserves. Causing her to fall. The last handful of rangers fell on her and tore her to pieces.
Then they attacked each other to Cal’s horror.
When they had killed their enemies they turned on each other.
Cal tried, but he couldn’t put enough into blocking or disrupting the magic’s effects. He was at his limits keeping Rayna’s mind free from the wrath and pulling people out of the mansions to join the over a hundred people he was floating above him.
All he could do was watch.
In one mansion an outnumbered squad of rangers was locked in vicious hand to hand combat with Cabal forces. The rangers had secured a room of HVT’s and were ably defending it thanks to a favorable position and good tactics when Cambion’s magic had erupted.
The rangers had abandoned all rational thought and their defensible position to charge the Cabal forces. A few had even turned to the people they were supposed to protect.
Cal had gotten the poor people out just in time by tearing the wall out.
He had tried to pull the rangers out, but found them much harder to hold on to. In the end he had no choice, but to let them go.
Similar scenes repeated across the five mansions.
The young man responsible for all of this, Cambion, strode with purpose out of the vile bedroom.
Cal could tell that terrible things had been done inside that room. The echoes of them permeated every surface and hung in the air. He could see it, feel it to his eternal disgust.
The mansion had already been cleared of Cabal forces by the Rangers.
Maddened rangers rushed up the stairs as Cambion descended.
The young man’s skin cracked with magical power. Erratic lines spider-webbed with glowing light.
It was ugly to Cal’s mind’s eye.
The power lashed out at the rangers.
Men and women fell to the side. Their bodies contorting with unimaginable pain. Froth bubbled out of their screaming mouths as they broke their own bones with the strength of their thrashing.
A ranger managed to breach the spells and struck at Cambion with all the strength of her mad wrath.
The young man moved quicker. He grabbed her arms and pulled them apart with a snarl.
Blood fountained from her stumps as Cambion stepped over her dying body.
It struck Cal that the young woman was still trying to bite at Cambion’s legs.
Insanity.
How many rangers died as Cambion made his way to the first floor and outside on to the immaculately cut lawn?
A dozen? More?
He consciously stopped counting after twenty-seven.
Rayna floated down out of the dark night sky and stopped fifty yards in front of Cambion.
Cal felt a spike of fear. Concern for his sister. He was ready to intervene even if it meant dropping everyone else.
Sacrifice a hundred to save one?
For his family?
Was there any other answer possible?
“Surrender or…” Rayna was loud, but her voice wavered.
Cambion snarled. He seemed incapable of speech.
Cal touched the young man’s thoughts.
Wrath.
Cambion had become it.
The young man thrust both hands at Rayna.
Ugly bolts of magic power streaked across the air.
The jagged, teeth-like things halted four arm-lengths in front of Rayna and smoothly transitioned into an orbit around her.
Cambion roared and shot bolt after bolt.
Rayna’s gravity field seized them all and turned them into the harmless satellites to her planet.
She sent them all shooting straight into the sky with a gesture where they finally dissipated.
Another gesture toward the mansion behind Cambion.
Nothing happened for a moment.
A snarl of concentration marred Rayna’s beauty.
Cambion began to slide back.
The young man dug his heels and leaned forward as if straining against an invisible harness.
The mansion began to groan and creak in protest against the same force.
Blood streamed out of Rayna’s nose, dripping across her snarling mouth.
Ugly, dark-cored whips of magic erupted from Cambion’s hands. He lashed, but not at Rayna. The whips dug deep into the lawn, like thorn-encrusted roots seeking to bind him in place.
The magical energies coursing through the young man’s body flared dark red.
Wind whipped around Rayna and Cambion. Swirling as the mansion began to crumble inward.
Cambion lost his footing. Only the magical whips kept him from being drawn in to the mansion.
More.
Rayna gave one last effort.
The mansion roared as wood and concrete tore apart. Drawn into the singular point of the immense pull of Rayna’s gravity field.
Even from high above Cal felt the pull. It took effort to remain floating in place. It must’ve been powerful down near the center.
Cambion howled as the lawn was pulled free from the ground. His magic whips followed suit, sending him flying back to join the crumbling mansion.
Cal lost sight of him.
The power of Rayna’s gravity field mixed with Cambion’s magic disrupted his ability to watch with his telepathy. He couldn’t spare more energy to push through.
Rayna screamed.
The mansion, Cambion, dirt and concrete in the immediate area where all pulled together into the gravity field.
Time seemed to stop.
Cal recognized the potential danger.
Rayna! Stop! Too much and you might—
The roar of power stopped.
Sudden silence.
Jarring.
The devastation was total.
What was once a lavish mansion was now a broken heap.
Cal scanned the area.
The wrathful screams in his ears were gone. They were gone from his thoughts as well. It made sense considering he couldn’t detect any signs of Cambion. No beating heart, no thoughts.
There were precious few conscious thoughts around.
“What happened?” Kayl groaned weakly.
Cal tried and failed to block out the horror below him. “It’s over.” He looked down at Rayna on her knees tears and blood streaming out of her eyes.
She knew.
Cal looked up at the sleeping people he held in his telekinetic box.
Safe.
He knew.
Was it worth it?
Saving them?
Yes, in his mind.
Was it worth leveling?
Each individual would have to decide that for themselves.
He wondered what the survivors would think.
What would the families and loved ones left behind think?
A loud chime—
Ignored.