By the time Dante had sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, nearly every other squad member had already dressed. He watched them with bleary eyes as they strapped on arms and armor at a speed that was nearly impossible to track. It was like watching a choreographed dance that had been set on fast forward. In less than a dozen seconds, aside from a few stragglers, they were already marching out of the barracks. It was humbling.

I need to start focusing on my speed. It’s not going to matter how tough I am if someone can shove a blade through my eye before I can react.

Wondering if he should follow, he spotted Svōl marching over to his bunk. Of all other soldiers, he moved the slowest. Which was still blistering fast by his standards. The reason for this was plain to see. The man was wearing armor. That word almost seemed insufficient. Half-inch steel plates embossed enveloped the man like a carapace. At least one glowing rune was embossed on each segment. He cut quite an imposing figure. An altogether different picture than the normal-seeming laborer he was familiar with.

There is no way he put all of that on so fast. Magic had to be involved. Then again, the entire thing seems to ooze magic.

Funnily enough, the man still wielded a shovel. Though one quite different from the usual. It was oversized, completely composed of steel, and the blade was clearly razor sharp. It was not spared from the runic treatment either, it positively glowed with arcane power.

“Vram” the man demanded. Follow.

Out of all of the words that Dante had learned over the past few days, that was the one most uttered to him. Fortunately, he slept in his uniform as Svōl looked rather impatient. He hastened to put on his boots and grabbed his shovel from where he had rested it against the wall. Feeling woefully unprepared, he followed the man outside into the night.

It was almost Deja Vu. The great barrier shone as brightly as he had ever seen it. Though, the scene was markedly different on this side of things. Now, he could see tendrils stretching from various points behind them to interact with points all over the barrier. Like rope, they wove together and frayed alternatively, poking and prodding at the interior of the barrier. On the opposite side of that wall came the same apocalyptic barrage of spells both conventional and esoteric. It was even more terrifying given that he was now directly in their path.

He only had a moment to gaze at it before he was hustled outside at a dead run. Even at his top speed, he could tell that Svōl was holding back. Dante could feel the man's annoyance growing and nearly adverted his eyes in shame before remembering that was a mistake. He had gotten better at that over the past few days, though he still made the occasional mistake.

By human measures, they made good time and they arrived at the foremost trenches in only a couple minutes. It was the most crowded he had ever seen. Soldiers were packed nearly elbow to elbow along the outward-facing wall. Most were paired up in the same manner that he had observed, one with some sort of ranged attack and one with a defensive power or equipment. It seemed to be the typical doctrine that these soldiers followed. Together, all of the pairs unleashed a constant barrage against their unseen enemies.

However, a significant portion of the soldiers were not participating in such tactics. Along the back wall, out of the way of the fire teams, waited a motley collection of soldiers. They had an entirely … aggressive feeling to them. He spotted one who had a cloud of swords circling all around her. Another wielded no weapon save his fists and had armor that appeared to be crafted of solid light. The only commonality among them was that they seemed to be waiting for something. It was amongst this crowd that he was led to and they took him to a place along a wall. Where they settled in to wait.

Dante gazed at his neighbor, a robed women who radiated cold and clutched a staff which resembled an icicle, then gazed at his dirty uniform and battered shovel. I am so out of place here. What am I even meant to do? Dig a hole to hide in?

As it was, he could only wait and watch the spells impact the barrier. Even constant impending death could eventually become boring. He was caught off-guard mid yawn by a sudden shouted order, "Aoul Ahsmati! Vune!" There was a beat of silence as all projectiles ceased. The only word that Dante recognized was Ahsmati, which he was pretty sure was the name of their enemy. Tensing up, he stood and cast a wary gaze about him. Then, a woman wielding a great bow as large as she was tall pointed into the haze and shouted: "Roan!"

She followed her words with an arrow that trailed an arcane blue light. An instant later, the haze lit up with a blue glow as it struck something out there. Dante did not get a good look at it, but it was big. The arrow was quickly followed by a cloud of projectiles from the other ranged attackers. The shape moved with a speed that belied its monstrous size. From the intermittent flashes caused by missed spells, he saw that it was moving at great speed and had wings. Its profile mirrored that of a bat and he had a sinking feeling as he noticed it was heading towards them. It was upon them before much else could happen and it pulled up short right in front of their section.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

It was a dragon.

At least, that was his first thought. It looked more like a tree that had grown into the shape of a dragon. A colossal tree at that. He could see gaps in its limbs and torso where various branches coiled around one another and it became wholly apparent that it had no organs or muscle. Instead of scales, its skin rippled with bark and moss and sheets of ivy hung off its spine and it had antler-like branches for horns. Its head appeared like the bleached skull of a stag and green eyes blazed with baleful radiance in empty sockets. If he weren’t watching it move right now, he would be sure that it was inanimate.

Of course it’s a fucking dragon. Here I am, a few days old and I am already facing down a dragon! This is bullshit.

The entire time he had been gawking, the soldiers had not ceased their fire. Various elemental explosions rocked its frame and hundreds of projectiles struck its hide. One spell outshone the rest, originating from a man clad in obsidian, who had jumped dozens of feet into the air to face the beast. He conjured a roaring blade of fire as large as the trench they were standing in and swung it with a roar. It flared blue just as it was about to strike and Dante could feel the heat from here. It struck true and night turned to day as the dragon was engulfed in flame.

For a second, he dared to hope that would be the end of it. Then, a piercing roar shattered the night and Dante clamped his hands over his ears. A flicker split the flames and the man was sent hurtling out of sight at tremendous speed. The flames extinguished and the dragon was revealed, unhurt save for a slight blackening of the bark across its chest. Time slowed as the dragon opened its maw and out poured a sickly green gas that billowed towards the trenches like a tide of death.

The trench broke into pandemonium as soldiers raced to escape the oncoming tide, Svōl among them. The armed man barreled through the crowd, shoving several soldiers aside in his rush. One fell to the ground and was promptly hidden by a throng of pounding feet. A short cry followed and was abruptly cut off. Dante tried to chase the gap left by Svōl, but the man soon outpaced him. A blur clipped him and he spun to the ground, falling roughly onto his side. From this position, he had a perfect view of the gas cloud bearing down upon him. He could only take a deep breath and whip up his hands to protect his head before it was upon him.

Dante held his breath and waited for death. A few heartbeats passed without anything happening and he worked up the nerve to open his eyes to reveal nothing but a monochrome green. Effectively blind, he scrambled along the ground until his fingers met a wall. He stood up and using the wall as a guide, began shuffling in a random direction. It was not long until his lungs began burning, but he doggedly preserved. The burning in his chest increased until it was an inferno and spots began to form in his eyes. Suddenly, something hooked his legs out from under him and he fell to the ground. His breath whooshed out of him and he instinctively took another one without thinking. Ice laced his veins and he waited for the end.

Nothing happened.

He cautiously took another breath to a similar effect. I guess I am immune? He experimentally waved a hand through it and noticed that there was a thin film of air between his skin and the gas. Is that [Overloaded Warding Flesh]? It finally was useful. Dante instinctively looked to see if he had any new notifications but saw none. Really? Nothing for that? I guess even that is no longer enough to level me up in one go. Well, he couldn’t be too displeased with the [Ability] at the moment.

What tripped me anyway? The death cloud had somewhat dispersed, but his feet were still not visible. He crouched lower to the ground and promptly fell right onto his ass when he saw a limp arm. The skin was mottled black and deflated, like the underlying muscle had shrunk. It was attached to a near-mummified body that was slumped against the wall. Even while he watched, the flesh continued to blacken and shrivel. Small puffs of black dust exited hairline cracks in its flesh. He felt his throat restricted and felt nauseous. He could only hope that was being filtered from the air as well. Suddenly [Overloaded Warding Flesh] seemed like such a flimsy shield.

He needed to get out of there.

As he was climbing back to his feet, he noticed that the arm was reaching for something. He leaned forward and found that, inches away from fingers that showed bone, was a mask. It reminded him of a primitive version of a gas mask, but with lenses that he was fairly sure had been taken from some gigantic insect. Feeling conflicted, Dante picked up and pulled on the mask. He took a deep breath, feeling a little comforted despite being fine before. Having an actual physical barrier between him and the death mist felt so much more secure than some invisible barrier.

Now that he had gotten past his initial revulsion, he noted detachedly that the body also had a sturdy-looking breastplate and a sword at its waist. He had managed to lose his shovel in the scuffle and he was feeling more exposed than ever. Greed, terror, and disgust at what he was considering all wared inside of him.

Look what happened. If it weren't for a lucky interaction between my [Ability] and this fog I would have been dead. They didn't even try to give me any good equipment! What is robbing one corpse compared to that? He felt like he was trying to convince himself. This isn't the time for a moral crisis, I'll decide later if this was right.

Mind made up, he began looting the body. First, he relieved it of the breastplate and sword. Fortunately, the body had not stiffened yet so it was ... possible but unpleasant to get the armor off. Then he began paging through its pockets. A task made much easier given that the fog had continued to clear. There was a swirl of motion at the corner of his eye and he looked up to see a soldier standing a few feet away, gazing at him through the lenses of the gas mask. They wielded gauntlets which had three viscous metal claws affixed to the back of the hand. Claws that were pointed at him in a decidedly non-friendly manner.

With an electric rush of panic, Dante realized what this looked like.