Twindil cursed as she rushed into the tunnel, the ravening horde in hot pursuit. There had to be hundreds of the accursed creatures out there, if not more. She turned her head to see Michael still standing there, a blank expression on his face as he stared at the looming darkness ahead. She turned on her heel, rushing past the others to reach him. She may not have known him all too well, but Twindil wasn’t about to allow the Outworlder to suffer a fate worse than death. When she was about half-way to him, he seemed to snap out of his stupor, flicking on the light-caster affixed to the side of his helmet before running to meet her.

“Are you alright?” She asked, running by his side as the others urged them along.

They all stood just in front of the wagon, waving and shouting for them to hurry. Lance particularly looked stressed, green eyes wide as she practically shouted through closed teeth for the two of them to run faster. Michael didn’t respond, neither to Twindil or the party's shouts. He somehow managed to look both determined and terrified as his light illuminated the blackness before him.

The light that bled in from the outside barely reached the wagon, and everything behind it seemed to be pitch black aside from where his light-caster illuminated. That was right… he had intense nyctophobia from his time trapped in that rotting sarcophagus. She truly hoped that he’d be alright, Michael might be horribly vulgar, but he didn’t deserve to become cursed by Spiralling Death. If he froze up again during this encounter however, that might just be his fate. Hopefully this newfound bravery would hold fast against the coming tide.

By time they both reached the wagon, the horde rounded the corner, quickly flooding into the corridor. Indeed it did seem as if it were a flood, for the Fiends trampled over one another in such a way that they seemed to be a purple typhoon. She could see several of the poor creatures get crushed by their fellows, no doubt leaving dozens of them with shattered bones. The sight of the looming threat nearly forced her to take a step back, terror temporarily seizing her in its icy grip.

Her features hardened, holding the grip of her sword firmly as she stood before the accursed. No fear, no anger, just… peace. Now that she was calm, she could be able to-

“Eat this you buncha purple people eaters!” Michael shouted loudly, before promptly flicking a switch on his rifle.

Thunder flashed in the darkness, briefly illuminating the dim corridor as dozens of Fiends simply collapsed to the ground in bleeding heaps. Her sensitive ears rang after the first shot, leaving all other sounds nigh-inaudible. Several Fiends fell to the ground, though they did not bleed from what she could see in the dim light. Instead, they clutched their ears, their mouths agape in a silent scream, at least it was silent to her ears.

She spared a brief glance at Michael, seeing those bright blue eyes wide with borderline madness. His mouth worked, still shouting as he unloaded an entire ‘magazine’ as he had called it, into the horde. Despite the inconvenience to her hearing, the enclosed tunnel meant that sound would be amplified… and with how loud that gun was, it would cause temporary pain in the form of ringing ears…

Temporary for everyone, except for Fiends. The ones that fell bucked and writhed, enclosing their ears with their hands in an attempt to drown out the horrid ringing in their eardrums. Not all of the Fiends fell however, some powered through the ringing pain, trampling over those who fell in their mad rush to reach the party. After a couple seconds, Michael’s gun stopped firing, and she saw as he quickly ejected the spent magazine, slotting in a fresh one in as little as two seconds before again he began firing.

The horde was closing fast however, and the barrage of bullets served only to slow them by a hair. Michael backed away, still shooting until the next magazine was spent. Again, she spared the briefest glance for him, seeing the man climb into the back of the wagon before he once again reloaded. She then turned her attention back to the horde, seeing the angel Baomiel rushing forward. Alistair had thankfully managed to summon the being just in time, the creature would prove invaluable in this conflict.

An angel couldn’t contract the curse after all, they were a being not made of true flesh. Massive ape-like fists smote and crushed all that they met, Baomiel’s humanoid upper half conjuring a long spear-sword of light that severed head and limb with ease. The beast parted the sea of Fiends around it, the two separate streams hugging the wall to move past the angel and reach the party.

Twindil drew on Afina’s peace, raw Foundation funneling towards the goddess for conversion. It flowed back into Twindil like a spike of ice piercing her back, sending chills up her neck as it suppressed all the fear within her. She channeled that freezing peace into her blade, an aura of white surrounding both herself and her sword. It used to be that she could only channel this power into her weapon, it was only recently she’d learned to expand its reach.

She was faster now, stronger, but most importantly… completely tranquil. Even as the horde finally reached them, she felt no fear. She brought her blade down upon the first Fiend, a skinny husk with wispy white hair, bisecting it laterally before she struck again. Her sword cleaved through the top half of a skull, sending the cap splattering to the stones.

Another barrage of bullets rang out from the wagon, sending another dozen Fiends crashing to the stones in agony, either from fresh wounds or clutching at their ears as the ringing of their ears intensified. She caught a glimpse of Nolvi, standing directly behind Alistair with the veins leading to her eyes bulging. Dozens more collapsed from just her mere stare, fresh lashes appearing across their exposed flesh. Had she wished it, Nolvi could have inflicted more grievous wounds upon the Fiends, but it would have been wasted effort. The stripping of flesh would serve better to deal with the cursed, overwhelming them with pain to the point of collapse.

Alistair opted for the opposite, conjuring raw Foundation, the Golden Flame enveloping his hammer before he swung it in a wide arc. The head of the hammer collided with several Fiends, the Golden Flame completely enveloping whatever it came into contact with. The sun-like radiance stuck to the fallen Fiends for only seconds before they were reduced to white ash, yet these brief instants proved to be catastrophic to the incoming horde. The creatures would scramble to try and make it to Alistair, moving over the still-burning bodies of their fellows. Soon a bonfire of Foundation lit the surrounding darkness, slowly spreading outward as more fed the fire. All Alistair had to do was maintain it, but the larger this fire became, the more difficult it would be for him to control. He could potentially burn himself out, even with his innate talents.

Unfortunately it didn’t seem to be spreading fast enough to disintegrate the rest of their attackers, but it was making a noticeable dent in their forces. Kid’ka moved as a blur to her right, his sword biting through cursed flesh almost too quickly for her eyes to see. Lance stayed just behind him, where only a few Fiends could surround her. The vast majority on this side of the tunnel charged directly for Twindil and Kid’ka, but a group of about ten opted to head straight for the Watcher.

A harrowing amount of foes for one pure mortal to face, but thankfully Lance was very capable with those twin blades she carried. Her long dark hair swirled as she lopped a Fiend’s hand off at the wrist, stabbing her other blade through its throat before promptly ripping it free, leaving a fountaining wound in its place. She didn’t have time to see how she would handle the other nine, her attention now firmly on the looming figure now standing at the end of the tunnel.

She’d caught a glimpse of that one before they had to retreat into the rest stop… if it was alive and here, did that mean that Hoplite had been slain? She found that thought hard to believe, but she seriously doubted that the Outworlder would allow this thing to get past him. Perhaps that other Fiend, the one with the chains, had Hoplite occupied?

“Survive this battle, and you’ll find out.” She thought to herself as she cleaved apart another group of the accursed.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

A stream of smoking green liquid then shot out like a geyser from her left, spattering against purple flesh and melting it clean off the bone in seconds. The acid then ate through bone before that too disappeared, turning whatever it touched into a screaming mass of sloughing flesh. The acid left bubbling puddles in the Setstone, stripping the flesh off the feet of any Fiends that opted to pass across it. Elum’s acid couldn’t have been timed more perfectly, catching many of the creatures in the blast.

These too fell over one another, leaving the melting Fiends to be trampled underfoot as the horde pressed on. With how proficiently they all were controlling this crowd, it seemed as if the party’s victory was inevitable… assuming they could keep this up. The line of the accursed still stretched far, and more still emerged from the corner every second. Besides the stream of fresh Fiends, the massive creature was coming closer, taking slow, struggling steps as it plowed forth over its crippled kindred. It was on her side of the tunnel… meaning that the first one it would come into contact with would be her.

She was not daunted by the size of this cursed orc, a single quick slash from her blade would reduce it to a screaming mess. In fact, she might not even have to fight this thing at all. A single shot from Michael’s rifle would do the job, and right as she had the thought, the thing's chest was riddled with bullets. However, instead of penetrating the flesh as expected, they pinged right off its skin, ricocheting off the surrounding walls before finding a home in weaker flesh. Something then whizzed right past her ear, plinking off into the darkness of the tunnel behind her.

Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. One of those stray rounds had almost hit her in the head… She had not the steel flesh of Tuji, meaning that- By the Pillars, she had almost died! She had the blood of a God running through her veins, but bullets didn’t seem to discriminate based on lineage. They’d put holes in whatever they could, she’d need to keep that in mind for the future.

The creature seemed almost completely unaffected by that barrage, pressing forward with a loud grunt. At least, that’s what its mouth seemed to motion… she couldn’t hear anything still. Well, for the most part. She was certain that Michael had just shouted some kind of derogatory slur at the beast before he went back to shooting the horde. In that lapse of continuous gunfire, the Fiends had gained, leaving only a mere twenty paces between them and the wagon.

She had no time to move over to that gap however, for the towering orc was now upon her. Kid’ka wouldn’t be able to aid her, he was fighting for his life, getting backed further and further into the tunnel toward Lance as the ravening Fiends sought to rend the flesh from his bones. Elum, Alistair, and Nolvi too were doing everything they could to simply keep the creatures back, but they were swiftly losing ground. The Flames of Foundation were slowly beginning to die down as Alistair fought on, sweat soaking his red headband as he gasped greedily for air between swings.

Maintaining the Flame like this was going to singe him if he wasn’t careful, but what choice did he have? It was either risk being burned, or succumb to the curse… She knew which option she’d choose. Gripping her blade, she rushed forth to meet the charging horde, praying to Afina that her armor would hold out against this thing. If it inflicted any pain upon her, she’d be cursed for all eternity.

Twindil would not allow that to happen. She cleaved through another host of Fiends that filled the space between them, her face expressionless as Afina’s peace flooded her; empowered her, the cold void freezing her fidgeting fear as she reduced bodies to twitching piles of screaming meat. The orc was before her now, rearing its shoulders back in an odd way as she held her blade at the ready.

It didn’t appear to be readying itself for a blow… in fact, it seemed to be trying to… hold itself back? More Fiends poured around it as it clenched its teeth, those big yellow eyes looking horribly agonized. She swept about her, downing dozens more as the freezing void within her held fast. Twindil’s swings were faster than any mortal could track, forming a bubble of flashing steel around her.

Yet still, the orc did nothing, rearing back those shoulders as it stared down at her, sharp teeth clenched nearly to their breaking point. Then, something strange happened… Twindil couldn’t hear it, but the beast’s lips moved as it spoke. The word seemed to be… sorry?

“Sorry.” It mouthed again as its shoulders freed themselves from an invisible grip.

A massive fist then came flying toward her, nearly catching her in the breastplate as she sidestepped the attack. The wind that passed from the force of the blow blew her hair out of her face, and she barely had time to duck under a heavy kick that was aimed for her midsection. If it wanted to kill her, it would have gone for her head, but the goal was not to end her life…

It was to cause her agony. She rolled forward between the orcs legs, coming up to a kneel before swinging her sword at the orcs leg. The blade normally would have parted the flesh with ease, but it only sliced through about an inch of skin before coming to a complete halt. The shock exploded up her arms and into her shoulders, her enhanced strength reflecting back on her from the impact. She tugged hard, pulling the weapon free right as a massive hand gripped her shoulder, crushing it beneath an iron grip that crumpled the steel beneath it.

Twindil’s breath caught as agony exploded through shattered bone and broken steel poked through flesh. Afina’s void shook within, nearly vanishing as terror washed upon it. It was over now, the curse would take hold soon… if everyone survived this battle somehow, she would request that Alistair put her down, it would be painless that way…

No time to think on that now, this wound was debilitating and needed to be healed. The steel piercing her flesh would be forced out, but that section of her armor was permanently ruined. She then felt herself being lifted from the ground, her blade clattering to the stones below as Fiends swarmed over it like ants on a crumb. The orc lifted her up to its face, still clutching her tightly by the ruined shoulder. Its face still looked horribly pained, but its yellow eyes had retained a certain… clarity.

“I’m sorry.” It mouthed, “I’m so sorry, forgive me.”

That’s right… wounding her had restored some cognition to this cursed monster. It was seeking forgiveness for what it had done to her. A hard thing to forgive, cursing her in this way, but she would accept the apology. Had she been in that much pain, who was to say she wouldn’t have done the same? Its hand ceased crushing her shoulder, the orc moving to cradle her instead as if she were some kind of newborn babe.

“I can’t stop for long…” It wheezed, its voice suddenly audible, “Forgive me!”

Michael hadn’t fired his gun in a long while, relatively anyhow. Had he been overrun? The orc then raised another shaky hand, reaching toward her other shoulder with an open palm. It sought to crush her other shoulder as well! She’d not allow this to happen, she may have already been cursed, but she needed her other hand to swing her blade! She struggled to escape the things grip, but it held her tightly to its chest, hardly seeming to exert any effort as it kept her immobile.

She had to think, and quickly, or she’d be reduced to a useless, crippled mess, or even worse, as another Fiend for her friends to fight. Yet what was she to do? Her blade could only cause a dent, and that had fallen to the ground below. She could try punching the thing, but with its steely flesh her fists would be completely useless. She could try to blind it with magical light, but all it had to do was keep its grasp on her. There seemed to be nothing that she could do to get out of this.

Unless…

Desperately, she reached out for Foundation, allowing Afina to build her House as she gripped the orc’s massive hand with her own.

“Be-” She gasped desperately, “Be healed!”

Power flowed through her hand, quickly enveloping the orc in a misty white vapor. The creature froze for a moment, teeth clenching as those yellow eyes bulged. A sharp intake of breath cut through the cacophony of roars surrounding the two of them, before finally it released in a relieved sigh. Lucidity returned to those eyes, the pain-driven monster coming back to himself as he grimaced at her injury.

“I… Thank you, little one.” He said, adjusting his grip to cradle her, “I will help drive them off for you, in the meantime, heal yourself.”

That voice was no longer that of a barely constrained savage, but of an almost noble, unshakable warrior. He was right, she needed to heal herself to get back into the fighting… and to stave off the madness of becoming a Fiend. Oddly enough, her skin still had yet to turn purple… she had read once that the curse completely engulfed its victim in under a minute. Time had ceased to exist after this battle had begun, had it been minutes, hours? How long had it been since she’d been wounded by this orc?

There was no time for pondering this now… She put a hand to her own shoulder, repeating the same incantation and enveloping herself within Afina’s power. She felt the shards of steel being forced from her flesh, bones being knit back together, before finally her skin sealed with an audible steam-like hiss.

She dearly hoped that Hoplite would be joining them soon, even with their new ally, they weren’t likely to last much longer.