The cavern floor squelched with the Dread Paladin’s every step.

Enemy blood glowed, casting a dim red haze over the ground that went unnoticed since he could see in the dark with the barest amount of light.

Light globes bobbed in the air over his head. Their casters, the Bat People he fought in service of, clung to the walls and massive stalagmites and stalactites jutting out of the floor and ceiling like buildings.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t the Dread Paladin and was merely Cooper, he’d pause and reflect on his environment.

The old him couldn’t have even imagined what it was like to be close to a mile below sea level inside an enormous cavern that took hours to cross on foot and could hold skyscrapers at its tallest or deepest, depending on perspective, spots.

Time had changed him.

His class was the least of it.

Battles beneath the surface had given him levels.

It had made him stronger and weaker.

The Vow gave. The Vow demanded.

Even the dreadlings had changed.

When once they had come from his shadow as a ravening mass of teeth and claws barely able to follow the most basic commands, now some of them disturbingly resembled people. Specifically, soldiers.

While a vanguard of the former spread out in all directions searching for the enemy to fall on without regard for their own safety and strategy a smaller number moved around him in a passable imitation of soldiers. Like him, they wore shadow-made armor and wielded shadow-made weapons. Unlike him, their armor resembled that of the pre-spires modern era, while they wielded guns that shot shadow bullets.

He couldn’t explain the how and why of this change, for he had no conscious memory of choosing it.

They had simply appeared that way one day to his surprise.

The soldier-like dreadlings, no taller than his knee, gibbered to each other as squads dashed from cover to cover while making sure to maintain clear lines of fire.

One at the front raised a fist, bringing everyone to a halt.

An unnecessary gesture.

The Dread Paladin had seen their enemy through the senses of the feral dreadlings up ahead in the dark distance.

A worm mother.

Finally, he had flushed it out.

Its dread filled him with power and pleasure.

He craved it. He hated it.

The duality of a monstrous man would never leave him.

It was all he could do to rein it in and only unleash it on those that deserved it.

The worm mother had been weakened in the fight that had seen all its worm-ridden trogs killed at their hands.

Its corpulent appearance would’ve made Cooper sick to his stomach.

The Dread Paladin chased after it before it could burrow into the ground.

Feral dreadlings chewed and clawed at white skin stretched to the breaking point.

The trogs were small humanoids.

Their people had a name, but the ones infesting the caverns and tunnels below the Bat People’s territory weren’t exactly a true example of the species.

These were hosts suborned by the parasitic worms in what the latter saw as beneficial symbiotic relationship.

According to Cal, that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The trogs didn’t even know who they really were.

For them, there had been no existence before the worms.

The memories deleted from their brains or never given the chance to form at all for those captive bred.

Thus, they all had to die.

The trogs for their freedom.

The worms for the horror they inflicted and the threat of sharing that with humanity.

The Dread Paladin pulled the mother worm by her tail and sliced chunks from her bloated body with his dark blade.

Dreadlings ripped and ate.

The worms posed no threat of infestation to them.

He followed the pulsing of dread turned desperate terror to the mother worm hidden within thick layers of skin, fat and muscle.

Sword became spear as he thrust deeply and ended the battle for this particular cavern.

It had proved to be a never ending one.

The worms, riding the trogs, had come up from below the Bat People’s colony in many thousands.

Those first days had been desperate even with the Dread Paladin’s fortuitous presence. His penance.

The only reason that they hadn’t been overwhelmed was because the Bat People were immune to the worms.

They could infest, but not control or kill.

It was an unpleasant time, but there were many ways to rid oneself of the parasites from spells to Skills to natural remedies.

The Dread Paladin’s nature meant that he, too, was immune.

Those first Golden Eagles that had answered the call to help hadn’t been as lucky.

They were the reason that no human, with a few exceptions, was allowed to fight the worms.

Cal had gone in with a small team, along with the Dread Paladin in an effort to find the source and destroy it.

They had succeeded in one day, but the enemy always returned.

The war was reluctantly left to the Bat People and the Dread Paladin for it was merely one blazing fire in a world set ablaze by the changes brought on by the decree.

He heard chirps and clicks echoing across the massive cavern.

He heard voices and words.

The dark gray helmet vanished from his head and back into his shadow.

Dread from his allies pleased the Vow, but not Cooper.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He had to keep them separate. Had to reinforce the training that the Bat People’s dread wasn’t his main source. He had wronged them once.

“Never again,” he whispered. “It’s dead. The cavern is clear. You guys can start setting up the speakers.”

Gifts from Cal and a small, gray alien.

They, for their people lacked genders being born out of artificial wombs, discovered a specific frequency of sound that when directed at an infested trog caused a violent reaction in the parasitic worm. Five seconds exposure meant death.

Thousands of speakers provided a perfect barrier that had yet to be breached despite the enemy’s ability to burrow through even stone.

More were being set up as they expanded in their search for more mother worms.

They hoped to find the source. Hoped that their was only one.

Cooper moved a distance away to spare the Bat People his dreadful presence and settled in to provide added security. He sent his dreadlings into the many smaller side tunnels to scout.

His recent level up had greatly increased the distance they could travel away from him without melting back into shadow.

Indeed, it had been years since he had freed them from needing to be always connected to his shadow. Sometimes he thought it might not have been a good idea to select that ability.

He hadn’t been waiting long when a bat person alighted a short distance away on leathery wings that were surprisingly quiet for their size.

He looked away.

His eyes were unnerving to all except a few handful of individuals he had encountered over the years.

“Message received… outside… dangers… Earthians… you go… defend colony.”

While the Dread Paladin and a Bat People force were busy clearing a massive cavern of parasitic worm-controlled trogs, Galen stood atop the wall with his squad.

The carbine’s grip was cool in his hand.

It would’ve been hot and sweaty on account of the bright sun and lack of cloud cover had it not been for the cooling mist he exuded.

Once again, people crowded closer to him than what protocol required.

“Spread out! One fireball and I lose half my squad!” Sgt. Tran snapped.

Galen gulped.

Sometimes his body acted without conscious input.

It got hot, so it wanted to cool itself down.

Hence the activation of his most basic ability as a Cold Mist Warrior.

He tamped it down with a concentrated effort.

It was almost like putting a stop to sweating by choice.

One week in and he had already gotten chewed out at least once a day for it.

His squadmates moved away reluctantly while giving him appreciative looks partially obscured by their helmets.

He was still struggling to remember names and faces, while putting the two together correctly. That was something he was always kind of bad at. But, one more week! He had given himself that much time before really getting hard on himself.

Thus, he shot surreptitiously glances at his squadmates in between keeping his eyes down the mountain.

The Terminus Decree meant more monsters and mutated animals as evidenced by the piles of carcasses attracting flies and other scavengers.

“Gonna be time for the flame swathes soon,” one of his squadmates muttered.

“Yup, temp goes up a couple of degrees every time and doesn’t go back down.”

“Relax. It’s fucking noon. And there’s no clouds. That’s why it’s been hotter today. It’ll cool down.”

Which was true.

Galen hadn’t been familiar with a real desert environment until posting to Las Vegas.

He had heard about it from others, but thought they were making it up when they had said that it was scorching during the day and freezing at night.

They had been right about the former and sort of close with the latter.

Truth be told he hadn’t really given it much thought beyond his initial curiosity at a new environment because of his abilities. He could cool himself in the heat and the cold didn’t bother him one bit.

A siren blared, cutting off conversation.

Galen’s gaze shot back to the tallest tower near the middle of the fort, close to the entrance to the Bat People’s home.

It was a spindly looking thing in the distance.

He had gotten to see it up close, well, at least the base.

It was about a hundred feet tall with slits for shooters in the walls starting halfway to the top.

The very top was reserved for their best sniper, which Galen was surprised to find out was that bald old guy he had met on his first day. Oh… and the siren.

Sgt. Crazy Ol’ Bob must’ve loved being close to that thing considering the old man’s professed love of the quiet.

“Eyes down slope!” Sgt. Tran barked.

Galen brought his carbine up to his cheek and searched for the threats through his red dot sight.

A white flag appeared from behind a particularly disgusting looking pile of dead monsters.

It hung limp in the non-existent wind.

The dark-skinned young man holding it aloft appeared next.

Galen couldn’t make out features from the distance.

Even through his sight the man was a blurry blob that he struggled to keep the red dot on.

A crack rang out.

Followed by a puff of dirt a few feet in front of the flag-bearing young man a second later.

The young man stopped, planting the flag in the ground and raising both hands.

“I just want to talk.”

The young man sounded like he was just a dozen feet away, rather than over a thousand.

Instincts had Galen sweating.

The young man had appeared out of nowhere.

All the roads and foot trails leading up to the fort were under surveillance and yet, no warnings.

The voice spell or Skill was another mark on the danger column.

Loud speaking wasn’t exactly high level. And it was a waste unless one gave speeches all the time and no one did that.

It meant that the young man wasted a slot unless he didn’t need the slot, which implied strength.

The fact that he was standing in front of them made it a given that he had to be strong.

“Your presence is unauthorized! Turn around and leave the area immediately!”

Unlike the young man, Captain Jackson spoke through an ancient voice enhancing device.

It looked like a cone with a pistol grip.

Galen wasn’t familiar.

He supposed it worked like cupping one’s hands around their mouth, but there was an odd quality to the captain’s voice, as though increasing the volume distorted it in some strange way.

Hopefully, the young man down slope could understand her.

It would be tragic if they had to shoot him over a misunderstanding.

“Please, we’re all human, right? I don’t want to fight you. I just want to get in the encounter challenge. I’ll give you anything you want. Universal Points, my time, anything. I’m willing to work for your company for an agreed upon length of time. At least talk it over with me. I’m sure I can give you a deal you won’t regret. I could give you high level help in clearing any encounter challenge you want. I’ll even do babysitting runs for you. Help you level up your lowers.”

“This is your final warning! You have ten seconds to comply! Turn around and never return or you will be fired on!”

“C’mon, captain, please. I don’t want to fight other humans. Not when our real enemy is in that cave behind you. Whatever the Bat People are giving you or holding over you, I can do better or help free you. All you have to do is stand aside and—”

“Ten seconds! This is your final warning!”

A shot rang out. Followed by a puff of dirt in front of the young man’s boots. Much closer this time.

“The next one is in your chest! Turn around and leave! Now!”

“Don’t be the crab in the bucket—”

The shot was as silent as the hidden knife thrust in the back.

The release of energy as the bullet struck the young man’s magic shield was enough to almost blow Galen off the wall.

He scrambled to his feet, struggling to bring his carbine back to a firing position, waiting for the order that never came instead.

Someone screamed a desperate warning.

Danger Senses spiked.

“Off the wall!” Sgt. Tran screamed.

A hand on his collar tugged Galen back.

He could only watch as a curtain of fire that seemed to fill the sky fell down on where he had just been standing.

Not everyone made the jump in time.

Their screams were suddenly swallowed by the fire.

The air fled his lungs. The impact drove them out while the fire sucked them up. He choked and gasped as someone continued to drag him away from the wall as the heat scorched everything.

“Golden Eagles, you should’ve worked with me.”

The young man’s voice sounded as though he was standing right in front of them.

“Still, it’s not too late. You won’t gain from me, but that doesn’t mean you have to die. Just put your weapons down and get out of the way. All we want is what’s inside the mountain.”

Galen had forgotten what true heat felt like.

The burning fort reminded him.