Chapter 15 The Beginning
“Bunker!” Roach bellowed, standing upright. He slammed open the door and stormed into the kitchen, and with much pleasure, shouted, “Everyone out ‘my fucking house now!”
As the chaos unfolded, there was no need for them to be told. The frantic scene revealed itself through the stampede of people rushing past, each clutching onto their belongings. In the face of the Horde, self-preservation became the driving force, and the mantra ‘every man for himself’ echoed through the air.
“Come on!” Roach shouted to his sisters, calling them over to a large pantry room. Swiping off cereal boxes from the top shelf, he yanked at the support, and with a few clanks, a door opened, revealing a set of stairs leading down.
“Where are you going?” May asked him, holding her hands against her chest.
“Mr Lockheart - Quinn, hurry!” June shouted.
“I’m a licensed hunter too, June, it is my duty to protect the city,” Pointy lied to her calmly. “I’m sure that place is going to be far safer than up here. Listen to your brother.”
“He’s right. We’re both hunters. Get down there and do not open this door to anyone. I will open it when the Horde is over. Do you two understand?”
“But what if you don’t come back?!” May shouted. “And what about Elora Evergrand?”
“I will come back, and I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Roach told them.
Roach locked his eyes with their solemn ones, and with a quick push, closed the door, locking it in place. The two broke into a brisk walk across the kitchen.
“It was meant to be coming in a few months,” Pointy remarked, pushing glasses up his face. “It-It—”
“It doesn’t make sense, I know,” Roach grunted.
“Blimey!” Pointy exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks.
“What? Just fucking say it.”
“Do you remember what the Bookkeeper said? About the incense and monster mutations? Don’t answer - they’re trying to influence a Horde. Well, they’ve succeeded if this wasn’t a test.”
“I don’t think it’s a test,” Roach muttered as sirens blasted across New London.
“MONSTER HORDE INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A TEST. ALL HUNTERS AND VOLUNTEERS REPORT TO THE EITHER THE NORTH, SOUTH, EAST OR WEST GATE. MONSTER HORDE INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER,” a monotone voice boomed across the city, shaking its inhabitants.
From outside, they could hear a commotion. “I said: I’M NOT GOING!” Elora screamed at the battalion of security before her.
The two emerged into the stones outside.
“Lady Evergrand, this is not about if you want to go or not. You must come. These are your father’s orders,” a woman in a suit told her sternly.
“Leave me alone!” Elora shouted in response, batting away the air in front of her.
The woman in the suit grabbed Elora’s wrist, but her entire arm caught alight, causing the woman to topple backwards in a panic. Flames had grown from Elora’s palm, twisting around her fingers, looking to be flung with just a thought.
Pointy looked away while covering his ears - he couldn’t bear the sight of it.
“Lady Evergrand—” another tried to say.
“No! I am defending this city if it’s the last thing I do! I do NOT need your protection! Leave now or be burned!”
“Lady—”
The fire around Elora’s fingers wrapped up to her wrists and hooked onto her shoulders. Aiming her palms into the sky, she let loose a flurry of flames, reaching the tallest of trees. Her back was hunched - she was unhinged.
Roach was captivated and mortified by the sight. He had heard she was a powerful pyromancer, but her enhancing abilities were incredible - the flames did not burn her at all, and her control over them was phenomenal. A tug on his trouser leg from a crouched down Pointy made him snap out of it. It was time to go to work.
“My shit wagon’s not fast enough,” Roach stated to him.
Taking a hand off his ear for a split second, Pointy motioned it towards the pink, stretched vehicle.
“Who’s is this?” Roach asked around.
“It’s mine!” Kara squealed from the other side of it, fumbling for the keys while also cowering from Elora’s rampaging flames.
“We’re taking it,” Roach stated bluntly.
“Can I at least get my tablet out of it?” Kara pleaded.
From behind Roach, surprising him, Elora remarked, “I’m coming with you!” Flames were still wrapped around her
“Elora—” Roach tried to protest, turning around, but a stream of fire flew over his head.
“I am going to the wall and Kara is coming with me,” she demanded, her jaw clenched. She was adamant. What had gotten into Elora Evergrand?
“What? We don’t fight hordes, Elora,” Kara protested.
“We are. Take us to the wall!” Elora demanded of Roach and Pointy.
“No… no flames,” Pointy murmured, still in his cowered position.
“What?” Elora questioned, flame twisting around her fingers.
“No fire!” Roach shouted at her.
“Oh,” Elora said, coming to the realisation. She flexed her fingers outwards and the flames dispersed. “I’m sorry.”
“You know there is no going back, Elora,” Roach told her simply. “Do you understand?”
She swallowed the stone built up in her throat and nodded twice.
“Alright, get in the back. You ready to go?” he asked Pointy, who was releasing himself from his cowered position.
Taking a deep breath, he also nodded.
Kara, seeing the commotion, decided to creep backwards, away from the vehicle. However, Elora spotted her. “You’re coming too!” she exclaimed.
Kara clenched her fists, throwing them down in protest. Unfortunately, she too was a mage and Hunter, and she couldn’t leave her best friend. Reluctantly, she climbed in the back with Elora, while Pointy took the passenger seat with Roach getting behind the wheel. The four sped off quickly, causing Elora’s security team to scramble in their armoured vehicles and chase them.
Goliath kicked open the tavern door, seeing chaos in the streets of New London. Everyone was on foot and sprinting to whatever building looked the safest. Most of the population was rushing to get under the Top Train stations. Although it was a good spot for the Horde, the residents of New London were more likely to be crushed to death entering than torn apart by monsters. It wasn’t the case of letting the woman and children in first, it was everyone for themselves.
“Hey!” Mike shouted behind him, exiting the tavern while throwing his jacket on. “I’m going to lock down the gym. Do you want to join?”
“Nah, I’m all good. Take care of yourself.
“Likewise. Stay safe.”
Goliath’s phone buzzed. He brought it up to his ear.
“Yes, sir, now coming. I’m arranging transport.”
The four were speeding through the streets of New London, zipping past frightened people and hopeful thieves ransacking shops for whatever they could find. Elora’s security was already long gone.
“Where are we going?” Kara questioned, her tone laced with fear.
“I need my gear,” Roach replied. “Are you good?” he questioned Pointy.
“Please don’t see this in the wrong light,” Pointy warned him, reaching behind his blaze and bringing out his folded compound bow.
Roach tilted his head to the side in annoyance.
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“Spike, where the fuck are you?!” Goliath screamed through the phone.
“I am… I am—where is this place again, luv? Wait, ’fuck are you goin’?”
“Spike!”
“Chillout mate, fucking get off—” audible vomiting came from the other end and the call was cut off.
“Fuck!” Goliath grunted through gritted teeth. He scrolled down his contacts list and clicked on Pointy.
“Goliath, we’re heading to the South Gate; where are you?” Pointy questioned, hastily.
“I’m heading to Roundtree Market. ETA?”
“1720. Where’s the team?”
“Spike’s pissed in a brothel. I’ve just texted Mute and I’m about to call—”
“Roach is with me,” Pointy interrupted. “Where would Spike be?”
“Fuck knows - uh, actually, I put a tracker in him,” Goliath sighed.
“A tracker? In him?”
“Roundhouse Market,” Goliath repeated without explanation, ending the phone call without hearing a response.
“Who are you talking to?” Kara questioned. “And why are we going to the South gate? Isn’t that where the Horde is always strongest?”
No one replied to her. “Elora,” Roach said, taking his eyes off the road for a split second. “Can Kara fight?”
“She’s a Rank A Hunter and that’s not just for the media,” Elora replied, folding her arms. “She can fight.”
“I can?” Kara questioned.
“Can you keep a secret, Kara?” Roach asked, side-eying Elora.
“Depends what sort—”
“Can you keep a fucking secret or do you have to disappear for a week?” Roach arrogantly questioned, twisting his head to look into her eyes.
“I can,” she replied with worry, hands clutched against her chest.
With a grunt and a nod, Pointy and Roach looked back at the road with mist pooling off their faces. Kara audibly gasped, though, was quickly silenced by Elora.
“Elora, I’m not trying to change your mind, but this is a Severity 7. The first wall might fall,” Roach explained to her. “Can you handle that?”
“This is my first Horde,” Elora told him while taking a deep breath. “I’m taking your advice - whatever danger I encounter, I will face it head-on.”
“What advice?” Roach questioned, raising an eyebrow under his mist.
“To fight your fears?”
“I told you to ignore everything and just deal with it.”
“This is me dealing with it,” she answered back, staring at the chaos-stricken streets. “Fuck the Children of Discordia and fuck my father. I’m defending this city. I’m not taking a back seat and let others die on my behalf.”
Roach couldn’t argue with that.
“Lady Evergrand,” Pointy politely spoke, pushing the glasses up that adorned his nose, “a Severity 7 Horde is around 610,000 entities with a Category S monster often as Alpha. Are you sure you still want to do this?”
“Where else is there better to start?” she proposed. “And I’m a hunter - I will act like it.”
Pointy looked to Roach who shrugged and muttered, “Not our problem anymore.”
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On the Southern Gate of New London, Mercy, with a new misted face, stood with his hands behind his back. He was staring off into the distance, where the highway leading into the city disappeared over the horizon. All highways entering the city were currently being demolished. Beneath them, acres of farmland were being burnt down to the soil.
“Sir, reporting,” Boseman gasped behind him, placing his hands on his knees.
“You’re early, Boseman,” Mercy told him without taking his eyes off the horizon.
“You—” Boseman noticed the darker mist on his face.
“I what?”
“Got a promotion, sir,” Boseman said after taking a long inhale.
“Acting Head Elder of the Unwanted, Boseman… I need you in control of the North gate.”
“The North gate? Ain’t it coming from the South, sir?”
“Yes, but I need you in control of the Unwanted from the North gate to buffering East and West. All other Elders are present here to control their teams. The horde will be less dense there but I need someone I trust, Boseman. I’ve added you to the Elder channel. Do not dish information out that you think will cause a stir. I’ve stepped up now and so will you.”
“Thank you, sir. Congratulations by the way.”
“Thank you, Boseman. But it seems my most difficult challenge will be today of all days.”
“With a Severity 7, you better hope the White Moon is on your side, sir.”
Mercy cranked his neck back, gazing up at the Three Moons in the sky. With the sun disappearing over the Horizon, the Black Moon began to shine brightly, casting a distorted shadow upon him and New London. “Hurry,” was all that Mercy said after.
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Roach, now equipped with his guns and daggers, screeched to a halt right in front of Goliath. Clutched in the large man’s hand was a club half his size, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was adorned in his cloak, and under it, a full set of leather armour, scarred from the previous Hordes. He looked formidable.
“Please don’t tell me this is yours?!” Goliath shouted as he ran for the large boot of the stretched pink vehicle.
He opened the back doors and clambered inside; the truck dipped and the axle creaked with every grunt that came out of him. Chucking his club aside, he pushed himself in and gazed into the vehicle.
“Good afternoon, Goliath,” Elora said to him politely.
“You what—”
“Long story, Goliath,” Roach cut off.
“I have time,” Goliath responded, slamming the doors shut.
“Where’s Mute?” Pointy asked.
Goliath looked around for a sunroof but couldn’t see one. “Roach, is this yours?”
“It’s mine,” Kara responded, meekly offering a hand up while turning her head to the enormous man.
“Kara Field, right?” Goliath asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” she replied with a loose smile.
“Do you have insurance?”
With a puzzled look at Elora, she replied, “Yes?”
Goliath punched through the roof of the vehicle and dragged his hand back in to create a small hole. No less than five seconds later, while they were travelling at high speeds, Mute dropped in silently.
“That just leaves Spike,” Pointy worriedly stated.
Goliath grunted as he dug around in his cloak for his phone. Eventually pulling it out, he switched it; on the screen, there was a blinking red dot with half a dozen warning signs labelled next to it.
“He’s at the Holy Whores,” Goliath told them. “He’s royally hammered.”
“That’s Northern!” Pointy exclaimed angrily.
“Do you want to show up without him?!” Goliath shouted back through.
Roach lifted the handbrake and fully locked the steering wheel to the left. Rubber burned and smoke rose, and they were quickly speeding off in the other direction.
As the group sped through New London, the streets became quieter. Meek faces poked out behind curtains but were quickly dragged back down to not draw attention. Hardly any cars were moving on the road now, only high-value targets driving to secure safehouses. Eventually, with the temperature gauge in the red, they arrived at the Holy Whores.
“I’ll go!” Goliath said, kicking open the backdoors and clambering out.
Making sure his pistols were loaded, Roach followed. “Is he moving?”
“Barely,” Goliath responded, looking up from his phone to see an old Christian Church. All the windows were boarded up with needles and beer cans beneath them. The ancient doors were wide open with lingerie and heels scattered on the steps. Goliath entered first and the map switched to a three-dimensional view. The dot was on the second floor - it was swaying backwards and forwards.
“Second floor!” Goliath directed to Roach who was running ahead. “He’s on the right!”
“Which door?!” Roach yelled back, climbing the stone, circular stairs.
“Uhh - not sure!”
Reaching a wooden landing, he kept his pistols at the ready as he kicked open the first door he found. What he found inside made him lower them in disappointment.
In the corner of the room was Spike, wearing just a white, laced corset and neon-green, high heels. Between his legs was a tail dropping from his behind, and a cigarette was loosely between his yellow fingers that gripped a beer bottle. To make matters worse, the eccentric bard was singing his heart out, all with burps and coughs.
“Making my - downtown. Walking fast -faces piss and I'm home now . . . na na na—” Spike dropped the beer in his hand as he noticed Roach’s misted face in the doorway. His face became skewed, offering a range of emotions, and then a vomit burp came up as he tried to protest and turn the stereo off. “It’s - uh, fuck, it’s not what it looks like—” Taking a step back to keep his balance, he slipped on his vomit.
Thudding footsteps came down the hallway. “Don’t come in here!” Roach warned, hoping to spare his teammate from Goliath’s wrath.
“What the fuck!” Goliath remarked in the doorway, his tone rife with disappointment. “Get him up.”
“I’m not touching that mess if you’re here now,” Roach told him.
Goliath barged past him and knelt next to his drunk teammate. He curled the tail around his wrist and yanked it out with force. Roach had to look out the window. Spike, open-mouthed, let off a silent cry of embarrassment, dread and pain.
Sighing, Goliath pulled out a small black device with a needle at the end. Jamming it into Spike’s thigh, he fingered a button and yellow liquid flowed into his bloodstream. Spike suddenly shot up with open, blood-shot eyes. “I want to explain myself,” he remarked, cold-stone sober.
“There’s a fucking Horde coming. GET UP!”
Still in his neon green high heels but with a misted face, Spike chased after his teammates, down the stairs and onto the streets. Surprisingly, he could run well in the heels.
“Holy shit it is a Horde!” Spike exclaimed as he looked around, tiptoeing towards the pink vehicle. “Who’s is this fuck-mobile?”
“Get in the backseats!” Goliath told him, slamming the rear doors shut.
“I’m not opening the door for that!” Elora exclaimed at the top of her lungs, covering Kara’s eyes.
Roach leaned over and unlocked the door himself. Spike, without second guessing, dove straight into the opening door and landed spread eagle over Kara and Elora.
“Ew! What’s this?” Kara squealed in horror as she lifted up a slime-covered hand.
“Spike’s Special,” the eccentric bard replied, sitting up in the middle between them. “Excuse the state, darlin’ - urm, what the fuck? WHAT THE FUCK?”
“Long story, Spike,” Roach calmly told him as he floored it through the streets.
“Here,” Goliath said, dropping the duffel bag over Spike’s crotch.
Spike gulped and made eye contact through the mist with Elora. “I assure you, princess, I was just cosplaying as a slag - I mean, women aren’t slags but this one was.”
“I don’t care,” Elora dismissed, folding her arms and looking away at the ceiling.
Spike nodded slowly, thinking about what to say and do. His eyes drifted to his left where the horrified Kara was staring blankly, “Good afternoon, princess number two. I’m Spike.” He extended his hand out and the willing-to-please Kara shook it.
“Urm, Kara Field, how do you do—” she looked at her hand, now dripping in more of Spike’s Special and cigarette ash. “You’re-You’re disgusting!”
“Disgusting or devilishly sexy - bitches can’t often tell the difference,” Spike replied, offering a smirk through his mist. “Anyway, ladies, this show is over.”
Goliath leaned over into the backseats and violently grabbed Spike’s throat, putting enough pressure that he could not speak. “We’re going to be having some words when this is all over,” he whispered into his ear, releasing his grip soon after.
“Wow,” Spike mumbled, inhaling deeply, “if only a slag could talk to me like that.”
A powerful backhand hit his temple.
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Mercy was staring over the horizon. He was motionless - like a statue, with his hands placed behind him like he always had. The loud droning of helicopters and hovercrafts didn’t affect him, nor did the sounds of the ferocious fires below.
“Mercy,” a voice said through his earpiece.
“Yes, Administrator Speaker,” he replied, remaining still.
“Administrator Dupe is on standby.”
“It won’t be necessary.”
“Mercy,” Administrator Speaker said sternly, “Administrator Dupe is on standby.”
“Yes, Administrator Speaker.”
“It is time to show Eurella who we are, do you understand?”
“Yes, Administrator Speaker.”
“The Horde approaches, Mercy… Good luck. May the White May look upon you favourably.”
Below him, inside New London, were tens of thousands of Hunters and volunteers shuffling their way to the entrance of the South gate, equipped with every weapon of old and new. Standing on a taxi was a Luitenant from the Eurellian Horde Force, dressed in a simple, blue military outfit. He was shouting orders to everyone. “Hunters, report to your Guild Officers. Volunteers - we need 4,000 more at the Eastern Gate. Head over if you can! All Unwanted reports to the wall for instructions from your superior! Do not speak to the Unwanted and do not make eye contact with them!”
Parked a hundred feet away, the Ill-Favoured Five plus Elora and Kara, had just exited the pink vehicle.
“That’s us sorted then,” Roach said, getting out of the vehicle. Immediately, eyes were drawn to the mist on their face, and then to Elora Evergrand and Kara Field. Fearful eyes turned to lust and complete shock.
“Stay close to me,” Roach said to Elora discretely. “Anyone that looks like they want to kill you, does.”
“That’s not very helpful,” she said back to him. “Besides, the attention shouldn’t be on me.”
“You’ll get attention no matter where you are,” Roach told her.
Of course, it wasn’t meant to compliment, just a statement of fact, yet Elora blushed.
As the team moved with purpose through the sea of volunteers, soldiers and Hunters, they garnered hundreds of looks. Goliath took the front as all could hear his footsteps behind them.
“Out the way!” Goliath started shouting as the crowds were beginning to push.
Kara and Elora were firmly squeezed between Roach and much to their dismay, Spike. Mute was just in front of them and Pointy was at the back, making sure to keep up.
Eventually, they reached the Luietenant on top of the taxi.
“Up on the wall,” the man said to them, motioning his head to the misted faces above. “Uh… Lady Evergrand? Are you supposed to be here?”
“Indeed I am, Officer?”
“Stembroke, Lady Evergrand. I don’t think this is the correct place for you at this moment and—”
“I am fighting this horde; you will not stop me, and you will not mention this to your superiors. Do you understand, Officer Stembroke?”
“Yes, of course, Lady Evergrand. But, perhaps a position on the wall would be best rather than down below - the mages from the Seven Spheres are to the east slightly.
“Brilliant, then I shall join them,” Elora concluded, grabbing Kara’s hand and walking forward to the stairs leading upwards.
Encompassing the entirety of New London was a wall fit for the apocalypse, with turrets, guns and even trebuchets at the top. Dotted along the wall, every fifty metres, was a tower that looked over the bottom of the wall. Its width was so great that tanks could be placed with room to move around. Though it was excellent for stopping Hordes, the wall was truly meant for war. It was thick, made from reinforced steel and soared to over 70 metres tall, with foundations so deep it put the London Underground to shame. To New Londoners, it was their saving grace. For over twenty years since it had been built, it had not been knocked down nor conquered.
“There’s the midget,” Spike pointed out with his finger as they arrived at the top. “He’s got a promotion?”
“Sir!” Goliath announced, approaching him and dozens more of the Elders.
“You’re late, Goliath,” was the first thing Mercy said after turning around. “And… you’ve brought Lady Evergrand and Kara Field with you?” Under his mist, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Long story,” Roach said
“Right. Lady Evergrand, where is your security? This isn’t the place for you.”
` “This is the place for me,” she corrected in a power pose. “And before you say it’s not or try to usher me away with misted faces, I am not going anywhere.”
“So you wish to fight the Severity 7 horde, Lady Evergrand?” Mercy asked her, his tone tough.
She steadied her neck and composed her frightful face. “Yes. I do need some more appropriate clothes though.”
Mercy inhaled and nodded his head. “If it was what you wish, Lady Evergrand. Where are the Fodders? You two, give these women your clothes immediately.”
“Yes, sir!” they both said, beginning to strip.
“May the White Moon be on your side, Lady Evergand and Kara Field,” Mercy told them.
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“As with you, Unwanted,” Elora responded, turning on her heels and grabbing Kara’s hand. Before she left to join the other mages, she discreetly leaned into Roach and said, “Don’t die.”
Mercy noticed but did not raise it. Once she had left, he called over a Raptor rank, instructing, “Elora Evergrand is down the wall, take your team and the Blood Swarmers and watch her from a distance. Do not let anyone near her you do not know and do not participate in the Horde. Contact Intelligence and make her security team aware of where she is. She is the first priority if things turn ugly.”
“Yes, sir,” the Raptor rank replied, pressing a finger in his ear to alert their team.
“What’s the situation, sir?” Pointy asked, placing his hands behind his back.
“Severity 7; approximately 610,000 monsters - many will have mutations. Most of the Horde is coming here to the South Gate, and I also presume the Alpha will. All bridges are being demolished. The Ignis Valley will act as a funnel for the artillery and planes to fire. When they get past it, that is where you will meet them. Goliath, I want you to take down Mute and Roach with you on the front. Pointy, we will try that new technique you’ve been working on—”
Their conversation was interrupted by a small person elbowing their way between Roach and Goliath. Adorning them was a suit of medieval armour, and clutched between their fingers was a rusty spear. Two antennae stuck out the top of their helm.
“Yes, sir! Reporting for duty, sir!” a small voice shouted out, stamping their foot into the ground and raising their head high.
Mercy froze. “Ozark?” he questioned, his tone rife with disbelief and anger.
“Yes, sir! Reporting for duty, SIR!”
“OZARK!”
Ozark lifted her helm, revealing a happy smile, eager eyes and a mistless face. “I’ve come to fight sir… Well, I won’t be fighting.” She giggled to herself after.
“How did you get out?” Mercy questioned, taking a step forward and looking down at her. “HOW DID YOU GET OUT?!”
Silence fell on the wall. The Ill-Favoured Five could no longer help her.
“I-I-I—”
“ANSWER ME!” Mercy bellowed, his fingers contorting.
Ozark was thrust into the air, high above anyone and her neck was pushed back to its limit. Flustered, she shouted, “I’m here to test out my new creation!”
Mercy’s jaw shook as he withheld the strength to snap her neck. Very slowly, she was lowered, and he leaned in close by her ear and threatened, “Ozark, if this weapon doesn’t work, I will send you back to the Chop Shop, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she softly replied.
“Good. Now fuck off.”
Ozark’s feet metal boots landed on the rough stone and her helm slid back under her face. She didn’t know how to react, only look down in shame. Noticing all the eyes on herself, she quickly scurried away down the wall, as far as possible from Mercy.
“Where am I?” Spike asked nervously, tuning his guitar. “Sir,” he added, sensing the man’s fury.
Mercy composed himself and then pointed to a tower that had the roof removed. On it, was a band setting up equipment; though, none had a misted face.
“Fucking sick,” Spike laughed, already rushing over to a ladder up.
“I need you all on top form today. This is our first public appearance as you can see,” Mercy told them, putting himself in front of them to form a circle. “I am now acting Head Elder. I want everything out - whatever you’re hiding, I want your best.”
“Yes, sir,” they all replied except Mute.
“Good. Now get to your positions - wait, Roach,” Mercy said quickly.
“Meet you down on the front,” Goliath told him, patting him on the back and taking his leave Mute.
“What was that?” Mercy questioned him when no ears could hear them.
Roach cleared his throat, replying, “She’s into me, sir.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to believe, sir; she recognised me in public last week. I’ve been trying to put her off since,” Roach half-lied.
“Does her father know?” Mercy questioned in horror.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Fuck, Roach, you do tend to pick a hard bargain with me.”
“I had no doing in her interest towards me, sir. You know how I am.”
“I do, yes. Alright then, go, we will have to discuss this at a better time.”
“Yes, sir, congratulations on the position by the way,”
Mercy nodded his head dismissively.
Draped in his cloak, Roach took his leave down the many stairs until he reached the bottom. Around fifty or so soldiers were guarding the tunnel leading out. They were cherry-picking Hunters and volunteers to go into the front - Roach was let in without question. His steps echoed in the enormous tunnel. Upon stepping into the light of the Black Moon, he noticed rows upon rows of soldiers, sporting beefy armour and lengthy shields, with a rifle and bayonet across their backs. Ahead of them were Hunters, the licensed mercenaries, mixed with volunteers wielding an assortment of weapons. Then Roach found it, a large group of Unwanted at the forefront, clad in their usual mist and dark cloak.
“We will be working in pockets of 3-5 dispersed in intervals of 40 metres,” a Guardian was giving orders, “and remember to keep comms open for your Elders. Good night everyone, and good luck.”
They nodded respectfully and dispersed down the wall.
“Something you want to tell me?” Goliath asked Roach upon noticing him, wrapping his knuckles in a white cloth.
“Not particularly,” Roach replied, throwing his hood back.
“You don’t need to be a prick about it,” Goliath grunted. “Just thought if you’re with someone like that maybe your team should know about it.”
Roach ignored him.
Goliath emitted a gruff grunt, then handed him and Mute an earpiece. “We’re on channel 3.”
The three were at the very front with the volunteers who were either brave or stupid. Dispersed between them were groups of Hunters, official mercenaries for hire. Behind them was a row of the Eurellian Horde Force, kitted with thick, blue and gold metal armour and full-length shields. Poking through the side of each shield were magical rifles with two feet spears on the end of them. Behind those was a ten-layer wall of soldiers with similar weaponry.
A teenager wielding a cheap sword was staring at Roach. He was unsure whether it was out of fear or curiosity. Almost everyone around them was side-eying them - the Unwanted in public, a sight most thought they would never see.
“Don’t like the attention, Roach?” Goliath jested, rotating his shoulder around its joint.
“If I had a cock as big as yours, maybe,” Roach tutted, staring out to the charred fields.
“Excuse me,” a timid voice said behind them.
Roach and Goliath turned around. It was a beast-kin wielding two hatchets. Though she was small, her body was muscular and betrayed her voice. “Hi, do you mind if I get a picture?”
“No pictures,” Roach bluntly responded.
“I wasn’t asking you,” she spat, “I was asking you.” She smiled wide at Goliath, her eyes sparkling.
“Apologies, miss, no pictures,” Goliath grunted in response.
“Fine. Here’s my number, anyway,” she offered, handing him a piece of paper.
Goliath took it, holding it like a sacred treasure. It was the first time he had ever gotten a number. He turned around to face the charred lands, eyeing the numbers. Surprisingly, Mute snatched it from his hands and made him watch as she tore it in half and buried it under thick mud with a tiny foot. Under his mist, Goliath’s mouth had dropped.
Roach couldn’t help but smirk. “At least Mute takes her job seriously.”
Goliath, devastated, stared at a corner of the paper sticking out the ground.
“She wasn’t interested in you,” Roach consoled him, “it’s the mist, mate. Plus, when death approaches, it turns people on.”
Ignoring Roach, he turned to Mute, “Why would you do that?”
…
“I think I deserve to have some fun,” he argued.
…
“She was interested in me as a person,” he protested.
…
“What if she was?”
…
Goliath inhaled, breathing out loudly and placing his club on his shoulder. “Fine… When does the Horde come?”
…
“I’m not giving you attitude.”
“Can you two focus up,” Roach interrupted.
The sounds of a chain dropping echoed across the scorched land and front line, closing off the only exit. A long minute of silence passed.
It was broken by a speaker—a foreign accent spoke through it. “Good evening, warriors of New London. This is General Nadiv of the Eurellian Horde Force. As you know, one approaches. It was unexpected and is at a poor timing. But, we shall face them like we always do. We fight with honour and pride for our great city, the country and our king. May the White Moon fight on our side.”
From atop the tower, they heard Spike’s powerful voice boom across the front line, “What he’s trying to say is, that you’re all fucked!” He cackled after, worsening the morale of everyone down below.
----------------------------------------
Mercy closed his eyes after hearing Spike’s statement and turned to face Pointy. “Are you ready?”
“I think it’s too much, sir,” Pointy replied as he stared blankly at the smoking fields below. “Severity 7 Horde is approximately 610,000 targets. I have only practised a thousand at maximum.”
“I don’t want statistics, Pointy,” Mercy told him. “The alpha is priority. It is supposedly a Wendigo.”
“A Wendigo?” Pointy questioned, perplexed.
“Yes, and we can gather who made it,” Mercy muttered, angry. “Tell me what a Wendigo is, Pointy.”
Pointy breathed out as he felt the tops of his ears. “A Wendigo is a congregated mass of tormented souls that inhabit a physical body. They can form naturally but most are man-made, and given enough souls are present, they can manifest their own physical body which they can remain in indefinitely. They tend to inhabit humans at first but can only last a few hours. The last known sighting was during the Port Atwood massacre where it wiped out an entire battalion of soldiers and an experimental group of Seven Sphere magicians.”
“It is good you are switched on, Pointy,” Mercy told him. “What do you do when you see a Wendigo?”
“A Wendigo is classified as a Category UX monster, sir. Run. Do not fight. Abandon all objectives unless ordered otherwise. Feeding a Wendigo will only strengthen it.”
“Do you feel relieved, Pointy?” Mercy questioned, placing his hands behind him.
“Somewhat, sir,” he exhaled, “it doesn’t distract me from what I’m about to endure.”
Mercy didn’t reply, instead, he revealed an iron helmet from a small pouch hooked on his waist. It looked to be an abstract torture device, with no gaps to breathe, smell or see, but two holes sat on either side where his ears would be - it was simple and thick. “This isn’t what I imagined, sir,” Point muttered, taking the surprisingly heavy helm from his superior.
“It is exactly what you need though, correct?”
Pointy regrettably nodded, sliding the helm on and securing it at the top of his head. “Sir,” his voice resounded out, “I’m going to need a healer if I am to do this at such volume.”
Mercy clicked his fingers and a Fodder was standing at attention in seconds. “Find me a Healer from the Servants of the Seven Spheres. Tell them it is of utmost importance. Do not give them a chance to protest - force if necessary.”
“Right away, sir,” the Fodder replied, dashing down the wall.
Mercy placed a calming hand on Pointy’s shoulder. “When I tap, you will begin.”
Below the wall, at the front, Roach, Goliath and Mute were cleaning and prepping their weapons. Mute’s head snapped to the horizon, feeling vibrations coming her way. Roach and Goliath’s head turned next, eyeing the explosions in the distance.
“Dropping bombs already,” Goliath grunted, cleaning the cracks in his steel club. “It’s coming quick.”
“I’m just worried about the Armoured Beetles,” Roach replied, looking down the barrel of his pistol.
“That’s where beating the shit out of something is better,” Goliath retorted, slamming his club on the ground twice. “I just don’t like the wolves - especially the grey ones - you know, low to the ground. They’re some ankle biters.”
“Grey Foot Wolf? They’re not too bad; one shot to their legs and they’re done. Where’s the minigun?”
Once more, their attention was diverted back to the horizon, where mushroom clouds with a devilish, red hue, soared into the sky. Jets zoomed past them, flying back to the nearest airbase.
“That’s not good,” Roach stated, standing up.
It seemed those around them were more shaken, evident by their feet shuffling backwards, whereas the Unwanted remained still, unfazed.
Chuckling, Goliath raised his club into the air, bellowing, “Remember, Unwanted, if you can kill any monster—”
“You can kill any man!” a few select voices down the wall shouted.
The speakers crackled on again, and a silence fell on the wall before the General spoke.
“The Horde approaches.”
“May the White Moon look upon you favourably.”
Mute’s head slowly turned to face the dimming sky. The Black Moon became a beacon of dark light that shone down on the charred lands.
A gentle rumble grew from the ground.
Roach’s earpiece crackled.
“Roach, this is Mercy, I have switched you to a private channel.”
“Copy, sir.”
Goliath looked Roach’s way but his attention was quickly turned to the horizon. Three drones flew above their heads, with red lights flashing on them.
“I know you will do as I say, Roach,” Mercy said, “but before I give the order, I would like to apologise.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Roach—” Mercy cleared his throat. “I want a show. I want you at the face of the Unwanted. Please remove your cloak.”
Roach looked at the charred ground, clenching his jaw discretely. “Yes, sir,” he responded through gritted teeth, throwing his hood off and dumping his cloak. Next came his vest which he cut off with his knife, leaving only his holsters strapped across his chest and the countless tallies on show for the entirety of New London. Eyes were immediately drawn to him - it was him, the one known as the Immortal, with a skull so detailed that no artist could copy it. The drones overhead were suspiciously trained on him.
Hovercrafts and helicopters zoomed up above the wall, their guns spinning, and the deafening whir of magical batteries following.
Then, the Horde came into view; a moving black mass, holding every monstrosity and nightmare - Children of the Black Moon frothing at the mouth, their red, wild eyes glued to the fresh flesh beneath the wall. It spanned miles across, appearing endless.
“Detention of set explosives occurring in three, two—”
Everyone clutched at their ears. Circling the city, a synchronised explosion occurred, rupturing the Horde, and sending black flesh and blood into the darkening sky. But the Horde didn’t falter, it didn’t stop in fear. It ran past its dying kin with only a feast on its mind.
“Roach, walk forward,” Mercy told him.
“Yes, sir.”
Roach stepped out of the front line.
----------------------------------------
In the bunker, May and June were crouched in the corner underneath a shelf of cans, peering at a tablet. A gentle rumble shook the concrete walls around them - they moved closer together.
“This is a Severity 7,” June muttered, staring at the livestream. “What if they don’t come back?”
“Sol always come back,” May said, attempting to comfort her sister, but was distracted by what was being shown.
The screen was shared with a presenter. “It appears a lone Unwanted has stepped out of line. Can we zoom in please on him?” There, Roach’s tallies and skull were on show not just for New London, but the entire world. “That’s the one who protected Elora Evergrand, I believe people have been calling him the Immortal. What is he doing? Are there any updates from the wall?”
“Look at all those marks,” June said in awe, “what is he? Surely he is not a Deviant?”
“They don’t exist, do they?” May questioned.
“They did, but he cannot be - he’s in light of the Three Moons, he would be absorbed in an instant.”
“Ew,” May commented.
“I’d like to see it actually,” June went on.
“This is now a warning to all citizens of New London, the Horde approaches. Do not leave your safe zones under any circumstances until the king has declared it. We will be streaming the Horde. We must ask you to think of those beneath the wall… May the White Moon look upon them favourably.”
June tucked her knees into her chest, wrapping her hands around them as she zoned in on the footage.
----------------------------------------
On the watch tower, Spike had a thousand-yard stare through his mist, almost like he was questioning his purpose. It was short-lived. He plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and placed it in his mouth, and in an efficient motion, rolled a flint-wheel lighter against his belt. After lighting the cigarette, he brought the flame up to his mohawk which caught alight by the hairspray. He rolled his shoulders and let off a single note before his voice projected across the charred lands. It oozed chaotic enerngy, invading the pores of every man and woman down below,
“Men gather, lost in their way
Against monsters that steal their light of day
Driven by anger, they know not why
In this senseless battle, are they willing to die”
Roach’s vision became obscured.
“On this barren field, their souls collide
As their hearts beat deep inside”
Roach pulled his pistols from their holsters.
“In the end, they're caught in the tide
In a battle with no reason, wonder or why, they cannot hide
As the world weeps for what's left behind
Men without a cause, their souls maligned”
“Artillery!” the general yelled.
On the hovercrafts and helicopters, a synchronised fire of all things explosive glory was launched high into the sky, blocking out the Three Moons from view. It crashed down, coating the Horde in flames and shrapnel.
Yet the Horde didn’t halter. They just kept coming.
“Reload!”
…
“Fire!”
…
“Reload!”
…
“Fire!”
“Engage the enemy, Roach.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I cannot believe this!” the anchorwoman exclaimed, “He’s running straight at the Horde!”
----------------------------------------
Goliath looked at his small teammate. She looked back in response. Chuckling deeply, he grunted, “Wanna join him?”
Mute turned her attention back towards the incoming Horde. Suddenly, she broke into a sprint, leaving a green streak of light behind her. Goliath grunted, spat on the ground and slammed his club into the dirt before charging forward to join his teammates. Despite the braveness of their fellow city men and Unwanted, they weren’t followed. However, in a minute, the Horde would come for them.
Roach was by himself - it was peaceful yet ultimately suffocating. His vision was skewed but he had already chosen a target. Directly in front of him was a yeti of sorts, standing at ten feet tall, with a muscular body under its black, matted fur. It was burnt in some places and a chunk of its quadricep was missing. Despite this, it was charging at him as if its injuries were cosmetic. As it got closer to Roach, its size only grew, and so did the dripping silver-like claws at the end of its fingers.
Roach fired his pistol at half-charge, aiming below the yeti’s furry chest. Neither the impact nor the pierce injured the yeti, but the small force impacted the yetis speed, and that was all that Roach needed. Putting his pistols back in their holsters, he leapt first onto the yeti’s thighs while bringing a dagger out from its sheath. He propelled himself upwards with the blade pointed high. The dagger entered the jaw of the yeti and pierced a portion of its skull, just tickling its brain.
The stomps from the yeti stopped, and its silver claws attempted to throw Roach off. But he was quick and sly, straddling the yeti to get onto its back. Another quick stab to its head revealed black flesh and blood. Placing the blade between his teeth, he brought a pistol out and pressed it into the wound. Two shots later, the yetis brain matter was scattered along the scorched ground, and its body quickly joined it. Roach landed on both feet behind it, ready to face one another.
“Holy shit!” June exclaimed, staring in horror at what she just watched.
“Holy shit,” the anchorwoman said under her breath.
----------------------------------------
Up on the wall, Pointy was staring into nothing but iron. All around him, he could hear thousands of gunshots and thousands of wails. That didn’t affect him, it was the sound of pyromancy around him. Even hearing it triggered emotions and memories he did not want, but at least he could bear it - seeing it was what truly unravelled him. Although his breath quickened and his pulse raced, he kept composed - it wasn’t the time to be a liability.
Mercy’s hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. “You are doing good, Pointy,” He told him. “The healer is here, they are just to your left.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pointy replied, exhaling. “I’m ready.”
“The distance is too great, Pointy—”
“I’m ready, sir,” Pointy hurried. “I’m focused.”
“Very well,” Mercy agreed. He snapped his fingers and a fodder came running up with a black box in hand, with only a singular dial in the centre.
“Let’s start at five thousand, sir,” Pointy instructed, “increase it by every three thousand when I say.”
Slowly, Mercy turned the dial. An extremely high-pitched sound blasted out of the loudspeakers. Pointy raised his hand, coaching his superior.
“Twenty thousand,” Mercy told him.
Pointy kept his hand up.
“Sixty kilohertz, Pointy.”
Mute suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, bending down into a cradle position, clutching at her ears. It wouldn’t be a problem usually, but a wolf was galloping towards her. It was white and grey—a sign of heavy mutation, and its bloodshot eyes were trained on her. A second, deformed head hung below its own, banging against its overgrown teeth with every bounding step. It looked to be twice the size of the nimble elf.
“Mute!” Goliath screamed, changing his direction.
It was going to be too late - he wouldn’t reach her in time to hit it with his club. He dove forward, dropping his shoulder and tucking in his head. The wolf’s teeth were only millimetres from digging into her shoulder before Goliath’s tough body cracked them.
The two had fallen together, but Goliath was quicker to his feet for such an enormous man. He let go of his club and grabbed the mutated wolf’s two paws and began to stretch them apart. A heavy foot was placed on the ribcage of the wolf, pushing against its already stretched limbs. Bones cracked, cartilage ruptured, and a spray of black blood was accompanied by a deep howl.
“Mute!” Goliath bellowed again, grabbing his club and charging towards a skinny grey goblin heading for her. In a single, swift motion, Goliath’s heavy club connected with the goblin, sending it into the black mass in a mess of limbs.
----------------------------------------
“Turn it up!” Pointy screamed, blood dripping from his nose.
Mercy obliged.
----------------------------------------
Mute suddenly stopped and stood up. Her large friend was between her and the Horde. With her blade behind her, she walked in front of him. Goliath banged his club into the scorched ground beneath him and the two met the wave of black mass together.
----------------------------------------
“Higher,” Pointy croaked, his mouth filling with blood.
Mercy noticed it. “Fucking heal him then!”
“Urm, any specified area?” they questioned.
Pointy grabbed their hand from behind him and placed it inside the iron helmet. “Pulse,” he said. The healer let go of raw healing magic into his neck, which quickly wrapped around his face and invaded his orifices.
“Higher!” Pointy shouted. “A hundred!”
Mercy turned the dial even more. Pointy bit into his lower lip, only adding to the streaks of blood dropping to the concrete below.
Compared to everyone else, who only saw a black mass moving, Pointy saw for miles around him through the high-frequency sound waves. The thud of the many moving feet acted as a base, and the projected waves coming from the speakers on the wall outlined them - he became omniscient, even feeling their body heat and heart rate.
Pointy had one objective, however: Find the Wendigo. He searched through hundreds of thousands of monsters, studying their biology. A Wendigo inhabited humans or monsters, and would often switch every minute during a Horde. But he found something troubling.
“Sir!” Pointy gasped.
“What?”
“They’re not - they’re not in hiding.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Wendigo, it’s not inhabiting. It’s manifested a body - it’s mutated, sir.”
Mercy breathed in.
“There’s more than one; 93 degrees - 1744 metres out.”
Mercy snatched a large display off a fellow Elder. Above him, a drone whizzed off into the distance. With a hardened gaze through the mist on his face, he waited patiently as the drone made its way towards the location Pointy identified.
“Do you see, sir!” Pointy exclaimed.
“Oh fuck,” Mercy spat. “How many more are there!”
“Seven! There are seven Wendigos!”
Mercy flipped the dial off and Pointy’s body went limp, luckily caught by the healer. The iron helmet quickly slipped off his head and banged against the concrete. His armour and shirt underneath were soaking in blood and the mist on his face swirled red. Green energy pulsed through his body, stitching anything and everything it could back together.
“Fuck,” Mercy muttered in disbelief as he looked through the footage.
“Having fun?!” Goliath shouted over to Roach after finally catching up to him.
“I hope that’s not small talk, Goliath!” Roach shouted back, yanking his knife out of a mutated snake twice the size of him.
“I got eleven so far!”
“Goblins are a half. I’m on 15!”
Goliath paused as he stared into the distance. Behind all sorts of monsters with ravenous drive, there was a large beetle, crushing monsters underneath it’s spiked legs. It was the size of a lorry, with armour so tough no bullet could penetrate. Its legs were barbed and sharp and dug half a metre into the ground as it charged towards them. Despite the barbaric nature of the monster, a beautiful black, red and yellow pattern was painted across its carapace, contrasting the nasty mandibles snapping together.
“Yours!” Roach yelled.
“No, yours!” Goliath argued.
“I told you, I hate them!” Roach screamed at his teammate.
“That’s wasting time for me,” Goliath lied, going back on what he said.
The giant armoured beetle was getting closer; the ground shook even more and the disgusting face became more detailed to them.
However, the most civilised out of the three didn’t want to waste any more precious time. Mute bolted forward, leaping off smaller monsters until she came beneath the enormous beetle. She skidded under it, slicing halfway through the belly of the beast. Yellow blood shot out and the monster screeched loudly.
She moved out of the way as the beetle stamped the ground beneath itself, dodging and changing directions within split seconds. Then she turned to it as the beetle came to face her.
“Don’t pussy out now, Mute!” Goliath taunted.
“I don’t think she’s—” Before Roach finished his sentence, she dashed forward to greet the rigid pincers. It tried to nab at her but she was too quick. With a side step, she spanned past the attack and jammed her sword deep into the beetles neck. She turned on the spot and ran out underneath it.
The beetle fell with its head split open and Mute was standing in the centre of it. Of course, she didn’t say anything and her body didn’t heave for oxygen.
“Show off,” Roach muttered under his breath.
“Fuck sake, kill of the week again,” Goliath sighed.
----------------------------------------
The Severity 7 Horde was in full motion. The ground forces had met the moving black mass. Unfortunately, most normal men and women stood no chance against monsters. Standard bullets only worked on the smaller ones, and more powerful weapons were too expensive. However, the army behind them offered full support from magical weapons but they weren’t accurate - if a monster was feasting on flesh, it was an easy target.
“It looks massive,” June said with horror, eyes glued to the screen. “It’s the biggest I’ve seen.”
May had turned away and was facing the wall with her knees tucked into her chest. “Why do you find these things fun?”
“It’s not fun. I just - Hordes are a biological marvel. Given decreased culling over the winter months, monsters breed more often. And when one or multiple monsters grow or evolve to such a powerful state, they admit a frequency that all lesser monsters abide by. And if that monster is intelligent, they create a horde towards the largest mass of food.”
May rolled her eyes. “Do we even know what the alpha is or whatever?”
June shrugged. “There’s like an index of seventy possible ones… It’s impossible to tell at the moment.”
May looked at a notification from her phone. “What about a Wendigo?”
June cocked her head and stared at the screen. “If it was a larger type, we would have seen it by now. It is possible. But a wendigo hasn’t been seen for decades now.”
“I think it’s a wendigo,” May said again, staring at a text.
----------------------------------------
“Elders, listen,” Mercy called, his voice commanding their attention.
In a circle on the wall, seven Elders stood with dark mist on their faces. Black cloaks covered their entire body, with only their height and body shape telling them apart.
“As Acting Head Elder, it is my duty to lead a force towards the Alpha.
“Have you found the Wendigo, sir?” an Elder asked.
“Not just one, Iceman,” Mercy replied. “Seven. They’re orchestrating the attack like a siege. Middle back of the Horde where the strongest are - tactically brilliant. They’re heavily mutated too, hence why we’ve found them so easily. They cannot hide within the monsters.”
“Seven?!” An Elder exclaimed in a rough tone with a Scottish twang. “Where are the Administrators?”
“The Administrators are the last resort, Pike. And you should address me as sir,” Mercy stated.
“Fucking seven, Mercy!” Pike exclaimed. “I ain’t one to hide from a fight, but seven of those lanky twats is like fighting Yelia herself. Ye might as well put stupid cunt on my tombstone.”
“Leave then,” Mercy plainly said.
“What?”
“Leave.”
“No.”
“Then be quiet and address me as sir, Pike.”
Pike scowled under his dark mist.
Mercy cleared his throat and placed a device on a stool in front of them. A hologram lit up before them of New London and the Horde. Red circles pulsed at the back. “They are centralised but still spread out. I believe they want to stretch us apart. We need to divert our troops away - with the exception of some strong Guardians. Servants of the Seven Spheres will back us up, but will not be down on the ground. As it stands, it’s one per each. I will take the strongest.”
“Yes, sir,” they all said.
“Yes, sir,” Pike spat later with a grudge.
Elora shook her head to move her wild hair out of her face and stare at the Horde. She was exhausted, and her mana was depleting at a rapid pace. Hundreds were dying every second - this was real, and she was living it. Had she made a mistake? She looked to her left to see Kara with a wild smile on her face.
“You’re enjoying this?” Elora questioned with ragged breath.
“You’re not?” Kara questioned back with an eyebrow raised. “We should do this more often. You wanna do the thing we did in that ad?”
Elora collected herself as she looked out. “It’s dense there,” she commented, pointing with her finger.
“We can do five pulse spells,” she offered, grinning like a maniac.
“People are getting eaten alive and you keep smiling. Stop!”
“Liven up a bit, luv,” another Servant of the Seven Spheres told her. “There’s a reason we’re up here and they’re down there.”
Elora, with a face like thunder, turned her head towards the voice.
“Oh, Lady Evergrand,” the say muttered in horror, cowering almost, “my deepest apologies.”
Elora huffed and turned her attention back to Kara. “Fine, we’ll do it. How much do you have left?”
“About seventy,” Kara replied.
“Shit, Kara, I’m on about forty.”
“You need to get in the training rooms, you’re slacking,” she teased.
Elora’s anger quickly turned to determination, and fire curled around her wrist and up her arm. Kara, who noticed her friend's flames, opened her palms into the air, closing her eyes and recalling the runes from memory.
Above Elora’s head, two separate portals swirled open, exposing the black mass of monsters below. Her flames entered both portals, and then further off in the distance, a powerful flame appeared without cause. It scorched dozens to the bone, even through tough hide and chitin shells.
The only person who wasn’t attacking any monster was Ozark. She was standing in one of the central towers in an archway. Her hand was softly cupping a small pouch that looked stretched to its limits. Her hand was shaking too, but it was gently stroking whatever was inside. By standing on sand bags, she watched the battle through the grates of her helm.
“You can do it,” she softly whispered to it, “I know you can.”
Down on the scorched ground, now muddy with red and black blood, the three members of the Ill-Favoured Five were deep into the Horde. The sun had set, and powerful spotlights along with the Black Moon lit up the battlefield.
Goliath was slowly beating an orc to death with his club; each pull and lift was slower - his breath was ragged. Wincing and grabbing his side, he sat down on the dented orc and rested his head against his club.
“Come on you lazy fuck!” Roach teased, looking as if he had only been fighting for ten minutes.
“I can’t regenerate like you!” Goliath shouted back after gathering his breath.
“Neither can Mute!” Roach countered.
The small elf was as nimble as ever, gracefully sweeping through enemies with her glowing blade. Despite her effortless movements, sweat built on every inch of her fair skin.
Goliath put a finger to his ear. “Sir, how’r we looking?”
“A third down,” Mercy replied quickly. “Keep focused. The strong ones are coming.”
“This is going to be a long night,” Goliath spat, snapping his head back to a mutated bull charging at him.
It was grotesque, even more so than the previous wolf. Half of its guts were hanging out, banging against the ground and its body. Its already tough hide had been matted with ash and blood. In addition to that, its bones were poking out from its ribcage, curving around its chest and back, doubling its defensive capabilities.
Goliath charged forward, aiming his club high above his head. With perfect timing, he brought it down in a single hit.