Owen gazed into the fire, orange blaze reflecting from his iris. At first, he felt loss, and a weakness that was difficult to describe. But the longer he stared into the fire, he found his heart hardening. A deep orange glow had consumed the sky-line. Soon, an abyss of darkness would consume the land, and a terrifying wave of sand would devour everything else.
It was the second time Owen stood at a funeral for the fallen, and the grim, determined faces around him told him all he needed to know—this was only the beginning. Blood would spill. Bones would litter the golden sands. Souls would be snuffed out. More would die. And still, they would march forward. He had to speak.
Owen stepped forward, his voice steady but solemn. “Many of you no longer remember your homeland,” he began. “Some of you might have been fathers, mothers, daughters, or sons. You signed up for glory, for respect—to make your mark across the universe. But how many of you even recall why you wanted it? What it truly meant?” His gaze swept over them, resting on the lifeless form of Lome. “We’ve lost so much. Fought, bled, and survived in ways we never imagined.”
Placing a hand on Lome’s skeletal shoulder, Owen’s voice grew stronger. “But none of you are alone. Whatever the past may have been, we face the future together. To hell with glory. To hell with riches. Together, we will survive. We will create new memories, forge a new life, one that they can’t take from us again.”
His voice rose with emotion, anger and defiance swelling. “And we’ll live long enough to punish those who tore you away from your lives—who ripped away your families, your memories.”
A roar erupted from the crowd, a mix of rage and grief. Cedric wept, struggling to understand the turmoil inside him. Owen felt it too—the weight of their pasts and the uncertainty of his role. Was he the best leader for them? No. Did he know all the answers? Not even close. But he would try. And he would lead them, gathering their wrath to turn against the Author, whether it was possible or not.
It was around 30 minutes after the funeral, and the fighting force had a fire ignited within them. They all sparred amongst each other, the harsh sounds of metal clanging against each other ringing out across his territory.
Owen was sitting with Pyris, trying not to stare at her face. “We lost another today. His name was Rohan. I hardly knew him. He didn’t talk much. Worse yet, is that I didn’t really feel anything. Not like the first time anyway. Will it continue like this as more people are summoned into my domain? It feels cold. I don’t like it.”
Sighing, Owen continued, “But I think I’ve steeled myself for the most part. The orc leader will up the aggression from tomorrow onwards. Tomorrow, we have two days left of protection. That’s when the casualties will rise. We will either perish, or win. But the fact remains, there will be blood on my hands regardless.”
“Tomorrow, we will begin by ravaging their supplies. Rehan says that blood won’t spill if we weaken them, but I’m not naive. The orcs will consume the weak. Women and children, they will eat them. Using their blood for water. At the most, we’ll weaken them by around 25 percent.”
Owen stood up and after stretching, he said, “But if it means one less of us will die, I will have to shoulder that knowledge. That burden.” Owen turned silent for a moment, before saying. “If I die tomorrow, I have given orders for the Builders to retreat into the mountain with you. There should be an escape tunnel set up soon.”
Leaving the building, Owen felt oddly refreshed. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Talking to Pyris, although she couldn’t listen or talk back, was calming. Back on Earth, he had always kept everything to himself, bottling it away. He thought he was weak for having those thoughts. But now he knew just how freeing it was to tell someone, anyone, about his thoughts.
Although night was fast approaching, and the temperature had plummeted. He smiled upon seeing numerous braziers lighting up his territory. Lome was smiling—if that was a smile anyway, while eating some of Bimpnottin’s raised fruits. Not that he could taste it, but once he saw everyone’s faces steeped in pleasure from the juicy fruit, he joined in.
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The Warriors and Hunters who had recovered, were helping the Builders who were busy singing away in songs from their homeland. They didn’t know how they remembered them; it just instinctively left their throats. And it was beautiful.
Owen gathered Rehan, Lome, Draed, and Mirian. Although he wanted to join the festivities, Owen had other things to do, even with nightfall fast approaching. He wanted to finish the Quest to hunt the Sand Hounds for one. A further 5 Hunter tickets would prove very useful—if not vital if one of them happened to be a high star.
Leaving the enormous blue dome, they hunted with Rehan in the lead guiding them. Owen made sure not to stray further than 25 metres away from the shield. However, because the wave was near, the Sand Hounds were very sparse. It was only the brave few that hunted at this time and because of that; they were stronger, too.
But with Lome and Draed—both of which had recently evolved—displayed their incredible might. Draed released an onslaught of arrows, some of which tracked his enemies. While Lome, making use of his tremendous might, split apart any monster that neared.
Mirian herself was also a force to be reckoned with. Not once was she in harm's way as she assassinated the hounds, hiding amongst the sand. She knew exactly how to run in the sand, how to fight, and how to kill.
Owen himself made sure to fight as well. He had to learn, and thanks to his two Skills: Devil’s Reflexes and Battle Hardened, it made up for his lack of martial prowess. As he attacked the beasts, he figured out how best to attack. If his foot was in the wrong place, or he swung his Fragment in the wrong trajectory. Because of Devil’s Reflexes, all the minute details became huge.
It wasn’t long before Owen had killed enough Sand Hounds to hear that sweet sound.
Quest complete: Slay 25 Sand Hounds.
| Reward gained: Summoning Tickets x5 Hunters.
Quickly returning to his territory—his home—Owen summoned the new people right away. It was best to do it before the tsunami arrived. That way, he could explain what was happening before they panicked.
He ripped the tickets. Two were 1-Star, one was 1-Star, and the last, the wheel spun, revolving around a myriad of luminous colours. Owen's heart sped up as it started slowing down. It was going to reach 7-Star, just like Pyris. But it wasn’t meant to be. At the very last moment, it ticked over to a 4-Star.
Owen sighed, his heart racing. The damn wheel was going to give him a heart attack. Spawning was a stunning woman with large pointed ears. Unlike Draed, who had almost greenish skin, hers was pasty white. Like Owen’s own before he was tortured by the sun day on end. She was of an elven race called Lunar Sylvans. Her name was Elena Moonshadow. She bowed.
“This junior meets her Lord,” She curtised with noble grace. “It is my honor to fight for you. By the will of the Moon Goddess, Lunara.”
He looked at her stats in shock. They blew Draed’s out of the water when he first arrived.
Name: Elena Moonshadow
| Race: Lunar Sylvan
| Level: 1
| Class: Hunter
Attributes:
| Strength: 23
| Vitality: 25
| Dexterity: 31
| Magic: 35
| Mana: 30
Skills
| Lunar Shot — Mastery: Middle
To his surprise, she only had one Skill. He inspected it.
Lunar Shot: Imbues arrows with lunar mana, piercing armour, causing magical explosions, disorienting enemies, and amplifying power during a full moon.
Indeed, the mastery of her Skill had brought with it amazing additional properties.
“It’s nice to meet you, Elena,” Owen said, smiling. “Now, let’s fill you in–”
Owen told her and the other Hunters all about what was happening, and what had happened over the past couple days. He just managed to tell them about the tsunami in time before the entire world trembled under its might. It covered the moon, descending the area into an impenetrable darkness, so dark that Owen couldn’t even see his own hands. And no amount of fire or magical light could battle against it, either.
Using hands and with the guidance of voices, Owen made it to the wall, where it was time to sleep. Tomorrow was yet again, all or nothing. Kill or be killed. Tomorrow, the orcen's supplies would burn.