The ant’s nest was alive with piss and vinegar.

Hidden soldiers armed with magi-rifles flowed through underground tunnels leading from a fulcrum at the castle’s southwest corner. One direction headed toward a fleeing Feranand and Tim’s side of the village entering from the South. The other pushed toward the bridge connecting Dar Evn in the Northwest. That division of troops fanned out at the interior of the bridge and only way across the river.

Considering Feranand’s perspective, he’d already tried taking Tim’s group face-to-face and failed to take them out. Maybe he knew this next step was the real kill shot. If he were Feranand, retreating into the castle meant he either didn’t have anywhere close to go, or he had something to hide. Might be what Dar Evn was after, which made breaking into the castle a main objective.

An elevator of magical protection rose up the walls like a green apple curtain, transforming the ramshackle brick into a firm fortress of ramparts and cannons, and more. Its protection spell grew up the three-story spire, glistening in its semi-transparent magic. Four overwatch soldiers loaded magi-rifles and took their posts at windows included in the protective shield.

Both of Tim’s fire wielders were shot down, a wise second punch considering the advantage flame throwers would have been in torching the tunnel dwellers.

Murphy coughed blood, laying on his side while Tim pressed Healing into the bullet holes. He used Draw to pull the shrapnel but had to carefully manage around arteries using Danger Sense’s heat as a warning sign.

For a second, the glassy look through the donkey’s brown eyes opened a window into the human spirit trapped inside—in the ward Tim cast him into. This monster who’d killed so many innocent people at Squire’s Castle was suffering in a weakened form, yet in that weakness Tim couldn’t help but feel sympathy. Murphy wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. He depended on Tim’s Healing as much as the breath he labored for.

Tim patted his pet, rubbing his thumb over the tattoo “Free Rides,” mostly covered in dried blood and mud. Tim regretted that shameful punishment, then recalled the mark given to Cain and shrugged. Murphy was here to serve his sentence. If they had parole at Shawshank… Tim struggled to remember the plot and if anyone was paroled in that movie. He shook off the concern for another time, placing it in a mental folder collecting data about memory breakdowns between worlds. Based on the truck Tim assumed to be useless, and how it resembled Earth technology, but in a Frankenstein’s monster sense. Tim wondered what Chris remembered from before and what his plan was now that he was with the trolls.

Could I shoot Indi on an aura arrow, Mist when he hits the window, killing the overwatch and delivering our assassin?

“I like that plan!” Indi said. “Wait. Shoot me on an… okay.”

Indi hooted and slid down Tim’s arm to the bracer where he pulled the ring to open his Aura Bow. Sniper Sight sent out a measuring line to the top Overwatch while he withdrew a pre-crafted arrow. The castle spire was two hundred meters from the corner building Feranand used, with a tower at another 30 high. Dryfu tapped Tim’s elbow to tighten his form as he drew with his anchor point in line. The excitement to deliver their payload added with the anticipation of XP into his Sniper Sight. Its measurement included whether his current angle would hit the target. He bent his waist and lined up the shot.

“Ready In?” Tim asked.

“Ready for launch.”

Sniper’s arch became green with Indi’s weight considered. Tim let it loose on a high angle. The aura drift flushed into the ejection power launching the arrow on a red-pink line soaring for the spire. Indi’s excited rumbling resembled a rollercoaster rider with windblown cheeks and butterflies in his belly. Hold on, Tim coached the familiar. Steady. Almost there.

Rifle-fire boomed from the windows like alien suctions popping off thick glass. Tracers of magi-bullets shot from Overwatch missed Indi spinning on his tight axis.

One zipped by close enough to shift the arrow off target. Greensight made a buzzing in his fingertips and across his eyelids. Tim grumbled and cursed with it. Indi, you’re offline. Turn right. He obeyed, but looking up dipped the arrow. Tim cast Mist. The distance drained his MP to 4%. No time. No speed. He just needed it through to get Indi inside. Indi’s backward flip halted as soon as Mist transformed him and the arrow into full Aura form.

The arrow flopped sideways and passed through the window at 7 MPH.

Indi, you’re in.

Tim released the Mist Ward. The arrow and Indi gained their weight. Overwatch 1, a scruffy guy with green pants and a hole bitten vest batting the slowed arrow sideways. Indi leapt off but still took a clip from the swat. Tim switched to Indi’s POV in time to see him snap his whip. The end wrapped a shelf pole. He looped around ammunition boxes and flung himself back at the sniper. Overwatch cracked Indi with the fat of his rifle stock.

Tim’s regen was too slow. He couldn’t cast anything. Magic Hunt was on a trickle. The rest was up to Indi’s abilities. Tim could control but gave the familiar a shot first.

You okay, buddy?

Indi hadn’t stopped spinning, his body skipping off the brick floor and hit the wall.

Overwatch 2-4 took potshots at Tim and his friends as they ran. With their cover blown, they were in a race for the tunnel. Already two soldiers posted at windows in the house. Glass smashed out with room for their rifles.

Gregor threw an axe through the window. Its blade buried into the shooter’s shoulder, forcing a misfire.

Tim threw the next axe, activating Double Whammo with his arrow as the first strike. The aura blade carved through his magical armor and hardened in the instant needed before it cut through the physical armor. Oil and Water, Baby! O dub what?!

A slug punched Tim in the chest hard enough to step him backward in a coughed bellow. The second broke his collar bone—white hot cataclysm in hyper speed, thank you very much.

Tim’s health fell below 10 percent—His head swam, hands out and balance shot, he cast Aura Form and strayed toward a narrow clearing between buildings. Bullets shot through Tim’s aura flesh with the sting of long needles—just a bit of pressure… Stab. Stab.

Tim activated Flee and equipped his aura blades, transforming his axe into aura. He cast Draw on the pain. Have a taste of this! The axe spun in a curving arc, like his fastball, straight enough to hit the target consistently, but with a backhanded surprise where it hit. This time, the target was Overwatch 4. One was too far. Four was close enough the axe took them clear through the armor. Tim yanked back on the aura form to sprout the axe in their chest. Poof. They jumped back more from shock than the counter punch axe. Greeting Card, It’s been Axe to know you.

Tim sprinted as best as one could barely sucking breath through the Mt. St. Helens of chest pain.

Murphy hobbled after him, eating cookies and gaining speed, shielding Tonda with its aura-reinforced defenses. Bullets hit his pink aura with precision and power. They drilled holes through the absorption to burrow into muscle and bone. Those that didn’t penetrate absorbed into energy Murphy repurposed into aurthecaries and healing. None would make a difference if they didn’t reach the wall. A round clipped Tonda in the upper back, spinning the wounded creature to her paws. Tim fell back and picked her up. She kicked against his help and tried to walk on her own. A drop of weight slung her right side for the ground. Tim caught her around the waist and hid her behind his shield. He ducked into a shallow ravine between fields, hiding in the tall shrubs while Murphy galloped to catch up with him. In the peppering of misfired bullets, they hid and let health waft into strength in every area where Tim’s tanks were dry.

S’Trace and Gregor had their own problems, spreading out to wall off their flank on route to the bridge. S’Trace’s samurai sword Peel attacks cut through two guards and the wall they hid behind. That kind of strength sapped even him. His next strikes cut long gashes through the magical armor. Shallow, yet effective in pushing the enemy back and off kilter. Gregor and Ky streamed into the hole and carved into the opposite stream. Bullets sprang off metal. A few sizzled through, putting Gregor on a clock to get undercover and treat his wounds. One oozed at his forearm, spasms wracking it in pulses of deep pain. He held it against his ribs and ducked under his shield while running for a barrel collecting holes. Splinters and chunks of iron sprang from the explosions rocking the water container, shooting geysers while Gregor ran.

Once Tim had enough regen, he cast Battleground and a fresh dose of Keeper on Gregor. The spells splashed with replenished fury Gregor spun into a whipped axe. A bullet sizzled through his sleeve, spraying aura in the aftermath. Tim’s spell kept his arm safe and the axe flew hard and fast. It planted in the target’s chest with locomotive thrust.

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The frequency of shots spread out.

Tim used the window to Flee. He Peeled across the opening between homes, evading the magi-bullets spinning in a tipped can of sticks collage between him and the rooftops. Indi? You still there? The last thing he’d seen was the shoulder stock of Overwatch 1 then stars and pain. Tim kept an eye on the HUD indicator for Indi’s passing and subsequent summon primer stage. None of that. No response now either.

Mind if I head right there? Dryfu asked.

Yeah. Go. Tim skipped off a leatherworker’s roof, catching him collecting skins from the drying racks. He was too low on AF to Peel again. His landing shot too close to the next building, forcing him to brace and Mist. The start of the spell fizzed in a static loading before activating in full and letting him breeze through the wall. The result? A bruised nose and cheekbone he had to cast Heal on before it swelled and impaired his vision.

Inside the building he crashed into a shelf and announced to the neighborhood several broken jars muffled by costly powders. In fact…Tim Foraged them into compartments in his Rryeg’s sash.

Items gained:

4 boindra gills nectar

4 vanilla dragon spice

3 ji-ji roots

1 pilbo fat

The fat for crafting armor later, ji-ji roots could go to Murphy, then the spice and nectar for an unknown spell. Neither apart nor together made a spell’s components. The rarity of all the items made it hard to pick what to put in his jars.

A hole burst in the outer wall, wide as a pool ball. In flew a smoke canister spewing noxious green gas. Tim drew his dagger and Peeled through the thickest pillar, through the wall, Drawing the poison into his Ranger Bonus skill. Outside, four guards decked in shimmering blue gold armor drew pistols nearly as pretty as Pearl Princess.

Triple-booming throats opened fire. Barrels grooved like the vahkel tunnels launched point blank. Tim’s Peel carried him for one. He didn’t expect the soldier to react in near time, turning and firing her pistol. The magi-bullet pressed intense heat and a diamond tip to cut into his vest and through his Peel. He had hoped to get through the first move without taking a hit like this, but he wasn’t done.

He faked a chest slash and stabbed her unprotected thigh. Poison collected in the gas concentrated into Dose. Last time he used it for healing, so this time had to implement the opposite.

Snarl face took the grand prize. The poison hit hard and fast, seizing her pistol hand and locking the fingers.

“I’ll take that,” Tim said, snatching that.

Double whammo shots hit him in the back from two more magi-bullets. His breath clenched off and he lost feeling in his feet. He turned the pistol. Sniper Sight showed orange. He squeezed the trigger anyway. Excitement blossomed in the cannon whomp. A flash of light. His target staggered. Tim pressed on the trigger. Dry chamber. He pocketed the pistol in a thought and stabbed. His dagger replaced the pistol in a blink, fitting into the grip of his palm.

The guard pulled her own blade and swiped across Tim’s chest. Protection buffeted the blade as though it were tossed into a tornado, skipping off and drawing her arm extension wide. Tim used Squire Form to block that arm and thrust the dagger into her ribs.

Tonda and Dryfu kept the other guards busy and all bullets appeared to be fired. One guard slashed a knife at Dryfu. His familiar drilled into the guard’s throat. The tornado spin chopped through flesh and sprayed blood. Talk about magi-bullet, Dryfu was a pocket blender waiting for a lawsuit.

Tim lunged for the guard with Tonda on his leg. A black shadow crept over her blood and mud stained coat, a necrofy spell expanding from the bullet wounds. Tim tackled the guard. They wrestled for control of his dagger. Tonda lashed in and chomped his neck. She ripped his life and dove back in for a second helping.

Tim waved Murphy quickly, scooting back. Tonda made a sucking sound as aura pulsed in her eyes. Tim put a hand on one of the wounds. Her flesh was hard as rock, charred and void of life. Tim cast Healing and Draw into the poison. Murphy’s AOE regen kissed them steam from a sauna hot room.

A magi-bullet sparked the aura defense shielding Murphy’s head, then the creature staggered. Strength left its gaze and the wings carrying Murphy on all fours fled as though ripped off.

“Get down!” Dryfu shouted. “Ov—”

Tim saw the line and Overwatch 3’s rifle, the barrel aimed at his head.

Aura Form encapsulated him as though in a bubble. Warnings flashed red across his HUD. HP to 2%. His head ached with a massive spike driven through his forehead. The echo of magi-rifle fire reverberated on the trippy horizon.

Tim sucked on breaths, afraid the interference would drive the long needle of pain even deeper. It burned like a molten rod through his skull even though he floated from the blood-stained sidewalk like a wraith strolling by. He could use a few of those friends right now, but Papa P and the crew were holding it down in semi-active slumber so they could pick up tonight’s guard duty.

Speaking of guards, a thick band filled the exits ahead, crowding the one lane alley connecting him to the castle.

Murphy brayed and bucked his head repeatedly in a celebratory nodding.

Tonda bounced up, faltered a touch in the shoulders on the landing. She shook it out and lifted her head through Tim’s mist-like leg still pink with aura form. He spread his fingers through her fur, the friction between aura and physical tickled him with an electric itch.

Murphy stomped on a dook biscuit, the aura and magic crusting it over and purifying the nasty bits. That’s what he told himself anyway. The more Tim ate it and it helped, the more XP Murphy would gain to level up the skill and taste.

That’s the plan, Dryfu said in his head. Enjoy

He popped the whole log and absorbed it into his gums with a smile back at Dryfu. An acidic stench filled his nostrils, then swept over and through the wound with such static energy Tim held his hand to his head to quell the pain.

An arch of donkey piss hit and passed through his leg. Murphy lifted his lips to expose donkey teeth and aura sparkled saliva.

That is the fastest way, Dryfu said. He perched on the window and applied salves to his delicate wounds.

All four guards disappeared, leaving loot Tonda kept in her bag. He opened the inventory:

One item of note was directions and ingredients to produce something called oenadi.

They make that here?

What is it?

For the Riftlord’s beasts to survive away from the Rift.

Tim’s anticipation of what they’d find when Feranand brought his last fight sent a chill through him, considering what beasts might meet them there.

Soft rain tingled across Tim’s scalp. The wound icon changed from red lightning to a green cross.

Murphy farted and really leaned into the stream decorating Tim’s restored leg. The muck burned off into aura healing, producing a welcomed relaxation to the pain of it fading.

He shook the tingle out of his feet and charged a Peel that would put a damper in their weekend plans.

Two guards. Two blades. Galvanize!

Tim skipped on the beat, riding the beat and the propulsion of Murphy aura. He swallowed the grit of the last cookie and promised to find another way to collect his aura.

For now, Murphster galloped with his long grin and flopping ears emanating pink goodness in billows.

We need to retreat to Plan B and meeting up with Dar Evn, he told Dryfu.

Tonda took a spear to the side, thrust from a corner in the alley.

Murphinator lowered his head and bucked concentrated kick-ass jack into a smashed bad guy head and a spear Tim would collect later.

Another guard had to go and make it Tim’s business to put him down. So he did, dipping low and shooting into a Peel to Double Whammo critical strike. A spasm seized his arm before he could try Tripple Whammo. Bright white light burned across his biceps and into his vest. It spread like acid, forcing Tim to strip the vest and run back for Murphy’s AOE. The guard’s shot hit him after all. He growled and tried not to move it while running. With both arms in the red, he couldn’t Peel through a wet bag.

The corpse disintegrated into a small loot score. Only a pouch and a belt with a flat compartment. “Come on, Murphy!”

Eeeeaaaww, he eeaww’d growlingly.

It’s called a Bray.

I know. This is called… Tim had banked on coming up with something clever when he spotted children watching him from a second story window. Their building had clothes hanging to dry by cleverly arranged wires and racks. This side of the street had chickens and baskets of fly infested food.

Tim waved the older sister with the loose braid and beautiful brown eyes to get back inside with her little brother. His Danger Sense ping had picked up about sixty percent of the population in worker/civilian essence threat levels.

A banging noise sounded inside the hovel, followed by threats in another language, or orders. The girl spun, quickly started heaving her five- or six-year-old brother to the window ledge. Desperate eyes told him everything. Tim sent a Danger Ping into the home, producing an infrared shape of the soldier chasing a screaming woman. He caught her by the shirt, tearing the thin fabric while she repurposed a second effort to get free.

The soldier reached for a stick with a magic jewel reverberating with electricity.

Tim equipped his Aura Blade, spent AF he maybe shouldn’t have, and a healthy chunk of his regened MP to turn his axe full aura. He whipped it on a line for the soldier. The aura blade carved through the thin walls with a slight skip right and high. Combined with the struggle, the blade sailed off target. He let go and the blade disappeared. No use spending points for nothing. It caught the soldier’s attention, ducking as the sudden spinning windmill of light vanished.

Too bad the soldier underestimated the prisoner and her reach for his stun stick. She turned it down on his crotch and let the heavens ring. In his wailing, she grabbed a flowerpot and smashed the thickness on his cranium. It shattered and he collapsed in one downward flowing conclusion. Freedom, for now. She called her children.

The daughter pointed for the street.

Where shuffling of enemies and the din of their brewing revenge suffocated them in all directions.

Murphy stomped his hooves in a one-two, increasingly rapid percussion in the dirt. Puffs of aura seeped into Tim’s stats so he could cast Battleground and Keeper on the family watching for his fate, and whether they’d have to save themselves, again.

He cast Danger Sense.

Soldiers split evenly between the next intersection and the one twice as far ahead, both leading to the bridge and where his friends had gone to meet Dar Evn.

A small group followed their dead leader to climb ladders for the civilians.

“Tonda, go!” Tim snapped a finger.

The mother had her out the window. He didn’t have to understand her words to know time was running out to get them safe.

“Dryfu, help Tonda,” Tim said on his way to catch the boy.

A man’s grief wailed from the interior. Farther than Tonda.

The soldiers had turned to killing their own.

Tim’s mission evolved in the desperate cry to take on more than Dar Evn. This town was his now, and the people, his responsibility. His gut wrenched with pain tied to the same he felt ingesting Pilk’s scroll, convincing him he wouldn’t stop suffering until they could too.

Right now, that path to relief led through Feranand and rooting him out of his hiding spot.