Chapter 157: Calamity of Stars

It wasn’t until the first shots were fired that Alex finally felt the pressure descend upon him. With the earliest signs of morning light peeking over the horizon, the quiet grasslands outside the city in Shadowfall Coast became explosively noisy with gunfire. What began as a few reports from a few different guns escalated to becoming something so much more chaotic. Alex was now witnessing firsthand the start of what he had unleashed upon this city: what he had been instrumental in bringing about.

“We’re taking small-arms fire!” cried one of the level-1 troops of the Lords of Justice. He, along with numerous others, lay flat at the base of one of the rolling hills. To distinguish combatants from civilians, he wore a camo-colored uniform and a helmet with matching stripes, as did all the infantry who fought on their side.

At the moment, they were about three miles west of the city, and the enemy, too far away for Alex to even properly see, began to unleash a hail of bullets from their outermost defensive positions about a half-mile from the city’s outskirts. Crossing his arms as he stood out and in the open, Alex ignored the bullets that bounced off his body and flicked off his forehead as he studied the situation. They needed to move quickly and without delay, but from this point forward, they wouldn’t be able to simply rush recklessly on ahead unless they wanted to lose an absurdly unnecessary number of soldiers.

If only I’d had more time to research ancient tactics.

A hundred years ago, someone like Alex would not be leading an attack of this sort. In those days, experts who’d been educated in military schools that focused specifically on the topic of conventional warfare would be the ones making decisions and calculating the best approach. Yet after a century of moderated, open-field combat—a system designed by Peter I—there were very few alive who could claim proficiency in these matters. Thus, the various guilds now relied on documentation and written accounts for knowledge on how to conduct this ugly, regrettably revived form of combat.

In the case of a city siege, it was written that the advancing force should look to gain between half a mile and a mile’s worth of territory per day. This, of course, was not acceptable, as by shortly after noon today, the enemy would have another of their weapons ready to fire. It absolutely would not suffice to begin a slow trudge towards the city. But that was certainly how things were looking as the battle began in earnest.

“What do you think, Lord Oren?” asked High-Lord Kolorn Besh, the leader of the Lords of Justice. The man was standing to Alex’s left side. Alex watched as he rubbed his right eye as a round from a machine gun thudded against his lid; he brushed his face with his palm the way that one might brush away a mosquito or deal with a small itch.

Alex frowned. “It’s certainly not going to be as simple as the last invasion. That much is abundantly clear.”

When the Royal Roses had invaded a few weeks ago, they had done so before the enemy’s anti-aircraft SAM turrets had been brought online. Conducted in the aftermath of a sanctioned terrorist attack carried out by the Guild of Gentlemen in Giant’s Fall, the Royal Roses had blitzed the city and managed to take all of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Avenue before the Guild of Gentlemen were able to mount a resistance. This time around, however, it looked like they were going to have to put in extra legwork just to get within the city’s bounds.

“Can we order a charge?” Queen Vayra asked. She was standing to his right. “Your humans are more than happy to do it. By all accounts, they desire revenge. Why not let them have it?”

Alex shook his head. “We’ll lose so many of them. Maybe even most of them.”

Putting aside the morality of ordering a suicidal charge, the fact of the matter was that they needed people—and a lot of them—in order to eventually occupy, secure, and contain the city. The considerations extended beyond simply this current crisis, too. The city itself was still a vital target in the quest to restore trade relationships with the rest of the world, as Shadowfall Coast served as far too important a port of entry to be left in the hands of the xenophobic Guild of Gentlemen.

How can we speed things up?

He knew that the queen would make good on her promise to flatten the entire city if he did not have the nuclear problem solved in less than six hours from now. Truly, it was an impossible task. But he had to try his best anyway—as impossible as it may have been. And to that end, he had the people, the equipment, and the ammunition. What he didn’t have was the time.

Alex looked over his shoulder and stared at the massive force approaching behind him. I can’t be reckless with all of their lives.

He had brought a staggering, historically large number of level-1 troops down to Shadowfall Coast, and he’d done so without any advance warning or notice. Typically, such an operation would require months of planning and logistics to work out. But somehow, Alex had actually managed to perform what was, in his honest assessment, a miracle—or perhaps it was simply that the impossible tended to become possible when it served as a matter of life and death. In this case, by commandeering all public and private aircraft in the Slopes of Dal’Zarrah, Alex had actually found a way to rush around 45,000 personnel here for this emergency invasion of Shadowfall Coast, of which 30,000 were performing combat-oriented roles and the rest would be utilized as inspectors, medics, engineers, and various other vitally important positions.

When he’d pitched this idea to the guild shortly before midnight, the primary concern among the Lords of Justice was the disarray and public disorder that might result from the sudden, unannounced, and unexpected seizure of all airports and aircraft in Dal’Zarrah. Alex himself had been bracing for such chaos; instead, as civilians caught sight of their forces, in uniform, rushing inside, they were met with cheers and faces that became alight with gratitude. Shockingly, the people wanted this war. They wanted their region and governing guild to fight to avenge those who had perished. It seemed that this was now the dominant view among many in North Bastia—though it would have been unthinkable as recently as a month ago.

At any rate, thanks to snipers along the valley, they were down around 200 soldiers, with about 40 of them dying outright and the rest being too wounded to continue fighting. Most of that death had been preventable, but Alex had needed to keep everyone moving. The consequences of trying that again, however, would be far more dire. Unlike the valley route they’d taken to get here, if he ordered his men to storm the city, more than half would likely be cut down.

With signs of impatience visibly causing her features to tighten, Queen Vayra narrowed her eyes and said, “Why don’t I simply have my Elves go in, then? Honestly, I fail to see why we cannot leave the level-1 humans behind for now and quickly take out their front lines on our own. Certainly, it beats standing around here waiting for your humans to play bullet tag with their little weapons.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but it was High-Lord Besh who replied for him. “That won’t work,” he said. “You’d lose a great many of your Elves that way.”

“Oh? Are you quite sure, human?” she asked, her tone a bit on the snippy side. Actually, her mood had grown very bitter as of a short while ago, and Alex didn’t blame her for it. She, like Alex, was very concerned about Zach, and it was clearly affecting her patience. Thankfully, High-Lord Besh’s patience was fully intact, and he answered her calmly.

“There’s a reason we still use guns, level-1 troops, battle tanks, and artillery in conventional warfare—and have done so historically. The troops are not just fodder, and they do serve a greater purpose than simply acting as a peacekeeping force to maintain order and hold territory.” He inhaled slowly, then turned his face so that he stared at the modest city in the distance, where a nonstop chorus of gunshots were exchanged with their forces. He pointed in the direction of the battle.

“It seems almost obvious,” he continued. “By that I mean the idea to forgo fielding armies and to instead send in leveled fighters to deal with things on their own. It’s the first thing most people would think—you could even say it’s the natural, common-sense solution to warfare. But,” he said, raising his pointer finger, “if you were to have access to the guild archives, you’d see that this is a mistake that humans have made time and time and time again all throughout history for as far back as our records date.”

“Explain,” the queen demanded, though she did now come across as a bit intrigued. Alex was fairly sure he knew what High-Lord Besh was going to say, and indeed, it was something he himself only learned very recently when researching combat tactics, specifically a very old book from five-hundred years ago called Theory of Unit Formation.

High-Lord Besh turned his body slightly so that he was now facing the queen. “For starters,” he began, “in any large-scale battle that pits leveled fighters against other level fighters, the backbone of any unit is going to be the mages in that unit. They are capable of turning around any fight, no matter how poorly things have been going. And while tanks—in the leveling sense—can protect their mages from other leveled fighters, a fairly large majority of spell-casters are susceptible to high-caliber, armor-piercing rounds. Sure, they can repel basic types of anti-personnel ammunition. But unless they have an unusually high constitution stat, they can be picked off by snipers using bolt-action, armor-piercing rounds. And if they are picked off, the rest of the leveled fighters are put at a tremendous disadvantage. So, where did that lead us historically, Your Majesty? Well, it led armies to begin enlisting level-1 snipers to take down mages and healers. Some very early guild battles were won using this method.”

Kolorn paused to take a breath before continuing. “According to historical records, snipers became a regular part of war. And there in turn came the only next logical step: making use of counter snipers designed solely to take down other snipers—along with light infantry to flush out those in more elaborate forms of cover such as towers or in difficult-to-reach places. And with the light infantry came heavy infantry, and with that came the introduction of armored vehicles. And because of armored vehicles, the next step was artillery, and so on and so forth. Now do you see?”

Queen Vayra did not look impressed. “How does any of this apply to my Elves? None of them can be harmed by your bullets, including those of us more inclined to magic. This, it seems to me, is a human problem.”

“There are other factors,” Alex said, chiming in. This caused the queen to shift her stance such that she now set her gaze upon Alex instead of his guild leader.

“Such as?”

Alex gestured with his hands, which he pressed together then slowly pulled apart. “Smoke, chemical irritants, and other tools they will use on you if you go in there alone,” he explained. “As powerful as your Elves are, the enemy has dragon equipment now. That still won’t be enough to overcome any of you. I understand this. But when you’ve got swarms of level-1 troops throwing flashbangs, gas grenades, or firing smoke-pellets directly into your eyes at a sustained rate, even humans will be able to get the better of you. I assure you, Your Majesty, the enemy has definitely prepared for the possibility of an Elvish attack. If you lead your Elves in there alone, they will utilize a host of unexpected tools to put you at a disadvantage.”

“Utter rubbish,” Queen Vayra said, scoffing dismissively at the suggestion that her Elves could be made vulnerable.

Alex held his ground. “I’m telling you the truth,” he insisted. “For as strong as your Elves may be, there are certain biological processes and responses that, for reasons unknown, do not change as a result of leveling.”

Queen Vayra fired him a skeptical, annoyed look. “That’s quite the cryptic explanation. Do you care to be more specific, human?”

Alex nodded. “Sure. So, hmm…okay, so how about this? Let’s take pepper spray for example. No amount of leveling will stop the stinging and unpleasant effects of being struck with a canister of pepper spray or hit with a pepper bomb. Given the fact that even the best bullets will fail to so much as tickle an Elf, it might seem absurd or counterintuitive that something so benign as pepper spray might severely hinder a sufficiently leveled fighter; yet, upon contact with the eyes, the brain transmits all the same signals that it does for a level 1. So what I’m hoping to make clear here, Your Majesty, is that while your Elves are out there wiping at their stinging eyes, it leaves open the opportunity for a leveled human to creep up from behind and plunge a knife deep into their backs.”

Queen Vayra said nothing for a moment, and Alex could tell by the contemplating look on her face that she was considering his words. Twisting her lips somewhat, she asked, “And are these the sorts of weapons and ‘techniques’ that you encountered on your previous foray into Shadowfall Coast?”

“No,” Alex said. “And if that sounds surprising, it is. For months leading up to these recent events, the threat of conventional warfare has been lingering on the air and discussed openly among the Royal Roses. Despite this, the Guild of Gentlemen were not prepared to fight in one. It’s only recently that they’ve completely restructured their defenses to deal with a more historical military threat.” He frowned. “I don’t know why, though. I can’t understand why they waited so long.”

“I’m fairly sure I know,” the queen said, and now a bitter sadness crept into her face, which softened somewhat. “Peter likely didn’t believe it would ever truly come to this, and even if he had, he likely viewed relying on such tactics to be beneath his dignity. Perhaps, it was only after they murdered him that the humans began preparing for this sort of war.”

Alex had to admit that he found her explanation plausible, especially because it would help paint a clearer picture of the circumstances that had led to Sir Alistair Morrison betraying his king. Even still, it was shocking how quickly the rest of the Guild of Gentlemen had accepted it. Alex would have thought there would have been a bit more outrage over what the man had done.

There is probably more I don’t know, he thought. But finding out will have to wait for later.

As bullets flew black and forth across several miles’ worth of distance, soldiers scrambled to take cover behind anything they could, including tanks, armored transport vehicles, large rocks, and sloped portions of the land. From this distance, most shots failed to find their targets, though more perilous were the explosions that began to deform the land as the enemy launched rockets and shells at them, slowing their advance.

They’re clearly playing for time, Alex thought. They don’t have to defeat us. They just need to bog us down.

The Guild of Gentlemen was mounting an unexpectedly strong defense. The only possible explanation was that they’d recruited a great many men and women from within their city while also bringing in more manpower from Tomb of Fire, including leveled defenders and equipment. Thus, Alex returned his attention towards thinking up a solution. He needed to move significantly faster, yet he couldn’t just order a full-on charge.

We need aerial bombardment from Haisel Ragora. We need those jets!

The one possible game-changer—the wild card, so to speak—was the existence of fighter jets: those F-15E Strike Eagles that Haisel had miraculously resurrected, though making use of them would require his forces to first disable the enemy’s anti-aircraft capability along the northwestern front. Instead, Haisel had chosen to bombard the southeastern coast in a separate operation to assist Zach and rescue their guild leader.

A tremendous mistake, he thought angrily.

The more Alex considered the dilemma, the more he realized that he was going to need the assistance of the Royal Roses. Even from the completely opposite side of the city, he could hear them fighting their own battle. Hopefully, they would get their leader back soon and make good on their promise. The two sides were in constant communication and were technically operating as allies even if their efforts were not entirely coordinated.

One thing was for sure, however. If they did not find a way to break through—and into—the city in an unprecedented, historically fast timescale, the Elves—along with the rest of them—really would have to make a mad dash towards the city, indiscriminately flattening it before they were able to launch another weapon and murder another million people. If push came to shove, it was an option Alex was prepared to take even if it haunted him for the rest of his days.

And so, for their sake as well, Alex prayed to the Gods for a swift, decisive victory.

*******

Vim held on tightly to the back of the boy’s blood-stained robe as the large, saber-toothed cat made unsteady motions while it sprinted over the uneven rubble of a destroyed building. Just a few moments ago, both the north and south sides of the street they’d been running down had been cut off by a mass of troops, leveled fighters, and armored tanks. Thankfully, there had been a way to slip through the tightening net that would be difficult for those behind them to pursue, as their vehicles were not suited to ride through such treacherous terrain.

As the boy’s mount dashed its way across the remnants of the destroyed apartment complex, Vim soon found himself on a quieter, residential street in downtown Shadowfall Coast. But he knew it wouldn’t remain quiet for long. At most, it would take a minute or possibly even less for the Guild of Gentlemen to begin swarming them here as well. After all, both he and Zach were high-value, high-priority targets, and the Gentlemen would desperately try to prevent either of them from escaping.

What’s even going on? he wondered, trying to piece things together.

His head was fuzzy, his body was weak, and a pain flared in his chest whenever he tried to breathe. He was also cold and shivering despite the warm, humid, early-morning air, which when combined with his general sense of dizziness, told him that he probably had a fever. Even still, he felt tremendously better right now than he had before the boy had used one of the yellow stones on him. Though he still felt awful, it was nothing compared to how poorly he’d been faring a few minutes ago. He had been delirious, unable to speak, and mere moments from death. It was to the extent that, at first, he’d thought the sight of Zach to be a hallucination.

Now, however, as he and the boy rode their way down a two-way street that had apartments and storefronts lining both sides of it, Vim tried to deduce what had taken place and why it had happened. The boy had told him very little, and he didn’t appear to be in a speaking mood right now—nor did he look capable of making conversation. Vim feared he would not last much longer at this rate.

Why did he rescue me?

Passing a two-story medical building that seemed to serve as a hub for cardiology and radiology, Vim struggled to connect the dots. Normally, this would be easy for him, but he was still incredibly unwell and felt as though his mind was fogged up. He concentrated in order to try clearing it. Were there any assumptions he could make?

Yes. A few.

For starters, the fact that Zach was here at all—along with the Piercing Thorn, from the few comments Zach had made—meant that his guild must have had some reason for believing they could attempt a rescue without inviting nuclear retaliation from the Guild of Gentlemen. But as far as what that reason might be, Vim could not say. Still, he thought it safe to assume there was at least some reason behind it. Secondly, he also felt comfortable assuming based on their current trajectory that Zach was trying to lead them to the shore. From the sounds of explosion and gunfire, it seemed like they were meant to make straight for The Piercing Thorn.

Can he even make it that far?

As bad a shape as Vim was currently in, the boy’s condition was significantly worse. Though his bleeding had slowed from a heavy rush into more of a gradual trickle, he did not look well at all. He was missing an ear, his nose was visibly broken, and there were red, damp spots of blood all over his black robes. Due to the self-repairing nature of equipment—provided it did not suffer a full break—the blood was no longer leaking directly out of Zach in the places where he had been wounded; instead, it seemed to be running down his body and dripping out near his ankles. He also seemed to be trying his best to hide his pain.

For the past minute or so, with his hands and feet continuing to fire off a steady stream of burning embers, Zach had been making very quiet moans and hisses, which tended to be followed by grunts. Yet these sounds had now quieted a bit, and Vim did not imagine that was a good thing. Continuing to say nothing, the boy’s mount raced the two of them down several streets one after the next. To both sides of Vim, civilians exiting their homes glared at them with expressions made of pure hatred as they passed by.

“Get the fuck out of here!” an old man shouted from an opened window on the second floor of a three-story apartment building. “You sons of bitches!”

Vim ignored them and kept his focus on what lay ahead as he and Zach continued down a third block—only to come to a sudden, unexpected stop. Right in the middle of the street, not far from the sidewalk and directly across from a shuttered clothing boutique, the saber-toothed cat, for reasons unknown, halted itself and then remained that way. Vim said nothing, assuming that this was perhaps due to Zach attempting to figure out how to proceed or something of that nature. Yet for nearly twenty seconds, the two of them remained seated on its back, remaining perfectly still as the sound of shouting voices in pursuit began to echo from behind them.

“Zach?” Vim asked.

He did not reply. Vim looked over his shoulder. Two blocks down, he could see numerous tanks riding towards them, flanked by a significant number of ground troops. Having never expected to live to see the open air again, Vim realized it would be such a disappointing shame to be caught or killed mere moments after escaping the torturous dungeon. And so, with urgency in his voice, he said, “Hey, Zach. Zach!”

The boy’s head slumped down, and that was not a good sign. “Zach!” Vim shouted. As weak as he was, he found the strength to begin shaking the boy, causing his head to droop even more, sparking concern for both of their lives. Vim shook him even more violently. “Zach! Wake up! Do not fall asleep. Zach!”

“Wh…”

Very, very weakly, Zach raised his head. Then, as though it required all the strength in the world to do so, his hand began to shake as he lifted his arm, extended his pointer finger, and gestured somewhere much farther down the road. With a sudden forward momentum that almost caused Vim to fall off the mount, the beast again took off at full speed, and once again, they began to put distance between themselves and those hunting for them.

“Stay awake,” Vim said to him. “If we can just get to Haisel, everything will be fine.”

Zach did not reply, which made Vim even more worried. This worry turned out to be justified as, upon sprinting down another two streets, the mount stopped once more. And now, something even worse happened. With what sounded like a groan, Zach released his hands on the scruff of the mount’s neck, tilted over to the side, and fell off it completely, landing onto the sidewalk with a plop.

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Forcing his own weakened body to move, Vim slid off the mount and knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got to get up.”

He wasn’t moving. Shaking him this time did nothing, either. The boy refused to stir. The rise and fall of his chest had become very shallow; he was near death. Vim cursed at the Gods, listening as the sound of their pursuers grew louder as they neared. They were going to be attacked very soon, and there would be nothing that Vim could do to protect either of them.

Even had his body not been in such a weakened state, Vim still wouldn’t be able to defend himself or the boy. This was because, shortly before turning himself in, Vim had stripped everything out of bank and storage and had stored it in a physical guild vault in Giant’s Fall instead; this way, even if they tortured him—and Gods, they sure had—he would be unable to give them anything of material value aside from his life. That being the case, he was therefore without a staff or any kind of weapon he could use to fight back.

Pressing down harder on Zach’s shoulder, Vim continued to shake him. “Get up,” he said again. “Or you’ll die!”

It was no use. Zach was completely nonresponsive. He was dying, and from the way the color was draining from his face, he had very little time left in this world. Vim himself was still critically ill. Even as he shook the boy, he began to unleash a hacking, painful cough that made his lungs feel like they were on fire.

“Get up,” he demanded despite knowing the futility of it. Again and again, he shook the boy as civilians who’d been standing outside and watching the spectacle began rushing back inside their homes as though sensing things were about to get ugly and dangerous. The sound of shouting voices drew ever nearer. All the while, Zach’s breathing became even shallower.

If only he hadn’t wasted his stones on the enemy, Vim thought angrily. A purple and a red would’ve kept him going long enough to get him to our allies. Gods damn it!

Even in the best-case scenario, Zach had maybe a few minutes left to live. He was no longer even moaning. He lay completely still on the sidewalk, though his hands and feet did continue to fire off the embers, which were now the only way that Vim could easily confirm that he still lived. Aside from that, he was beginning to go cold.

Giving up, Vim stopped shaking him, turned himself around, and sat on his ass on the ground. He sighed. “Guess this is it,” he said. And then he chuckled. “At least we made them work for it. Right, Zach?” Unsurprisingly, the boy said nothing in reply. Vim didn’t even know how he was still alive. He must’ve been clinging to life, though his grasp was clearly slipping. His mount also disappeared into a puff of smoke, which Vim took as further evidence that the boy was in his final moments of life.

Ahead of Vim, the first of their enemies came racing down the street and into view. Now, Vim watched as three men wielding axes and two women—one with a staff, and the other with a spell dagger—all widened their eyes at the sight of Vim sitting there and Zach lying unmoving on his belly with his face buried into the concrete ground. It was as though they did not expect to see them in such a vulnerable position, which told Vim that the Guild of Gentlemen had been unaware of the extent of how debilitated the two of them were.

“Contact!” shouted one of the axe-wielding men. He was young, perhaps nineteen or twenty years of age, and he had short black hair that jutted out from the front of a light leather helmet. “Both targets spotted,” he said with a sense of seriousness and urgency into what Vim assumed was a Comm in his ear. “They…they appear to be wounded and defenseless. Should I move to apprehend?”

He and the four with him slowed as they neared Vim and Zach. “What’s that? But…but they’re literally on the ground already. All right. Understood, sir. You’re right. Best to not take any chances.” He turned his head left then right, glancing at each of his allies. Far behind him, a much larger group could be seen approaching, along with a number of combat vehicles. “Orders from up top: kill them immediately. We can’t take any more risks.”

“Got it,” the woman with the spell dagger said. Holding it in her right hand, she lifted the weapon then turned it so that it was flat before pressing it against her left shoulder. Afterwards, she began to chant. Now, a reddish aura began to glow all around each of the three axe-wielding men, covering them from head to toe. Following this, each began charging at Vim and Zach, their axes raised as if ready to kill.

“Is that some kind of strength buff?” Vim asked, coughing even as he spoke. “Pathetic. We’re already almost dead.” The three ignored him and continued to charge. Vim scooted on his rear closer to Zach, and he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t know if you can hear me, Zach, but despite how it turned out, I appreciate what you tried to do.” He coughed. “Sorry it cost you everything.”

Of the three axe-wielding fighters from the Guild of Gentlemen, it was the black-haired one with the leather helm who reached Vim first, his body glowing with a wavy, visible red energy—the result of whatever buff the spell-dagger-wielding mage had cast on him. With Vim in a seated position, the young man had to bend his knees and squat down as he swung his axe, which ripped across the air as it headed straight for Vim’s forehead.

With all options exhausted and all hope extinguished, he braced himself for the end. And as though the universe itself had decided to play him a song of farewell, Vim could swear he heard the sound of an enchanting melody on the air. In fact, he was sure of it. His ears clearly detected what sounded like a flute, one that was playing some kind of whimsical marching song. He didn’t think he was imagining it, either, because if so, it would be a shared hallucination from the way the other two axe-wielding men turned their heads and scowled at something behind Vim.

“Shit!” one of them cried.

It was at this point that Vim wondered why he was still alive. By now, the axe should have split his skull apart. In front of him, he saw that the man had paused, his knees still bent and his arms still raised above his head. Yet something was off about him, and in the darkish, pre-dawn morning glow, it took Vim a second to realize that his attacker’s eyes were closed; even more strangely, Vim was fairly certain the man was snoring!

He…fell asleep?

“Who are you?” shouted the woman with the spell dagger. Vim did not think it was him that she was speaking to. Her head was tilted up and her eyes raised as though she was glancing at the top of the home behind Vim on this side of the street.

Giving off a clear sense of frustration, the woman began swinging her arm around and making slicing motions with her spell dagger in the air before her, causing it to glow brighter and brighter with each slice. Vim supposed this was her way of “winding up” another spell. If so, she never got around to casting it, as once more, the sound of a flute resumed, and this time, it played an entirely different melody. It also wasn’t the only sound to reach Vim’s ears.

The early-morning air filled with the distinct, shrill croak of a raven, and then came another sound along with it: the unmistakable fluttering of wings. At a speed far faster than a bird could naturally fly, a winged creature zipped by Vim’s right ear, slipped between the other two axe-wielding men, and then flew right into the chest of the woman wielding the spell dagger, punching a hole straight through it. This caused her to spit out a wad of blood and then clutch her chest as she fell forward onto the pavement.

“What the fuck?” the woman with the staff yelled. “G-get it away from me!”

She began to run off as the melody resumed, and following another croak, the raven pursued her. Vim watched the raven chase after her at a speed much greater than she seemed capable of fleeing, and though he assumed from the sound of her screams that she perished soon after, he did not ultimately see what fate befell her, as his attention refocused on the two axe-wielding men, who were now rushing at him as though to do what their snoozing friend had failed to accomplish. But they, too, were stopped.

The sidewalk beneath their very feet erupted, and then dozens of sharp, long, white, and metallic spikes popped out of the ground and rose straight upwards, piercing both men in multiple areas. Each spike ended up being over five feet in length. Both men cried out in agony as they were skewered alive, and Vim actually pitied the one on the left, who was run through by a spike that penetrated into his groin at an angle that saw it finding an exit between his shoulder blades. What an awful way to die.

Now, with four of the five of them dead, Vim heard feet clicking down onto the sidewalk from what sounded like two individuals. Turning around, he gasped as he saw two very young Elvish warriors approaching him with worry and fear in their eyes—worry that seemed to be directed at Zach.

Who are they?

The one on the left was a young girl. Though undeniably Elvish, the green cloak she wore was the only part of her that dressed like it. The girl had ruby-red hair with streaks of gold and black, along with a spiked collar around her neck and a generous application of black eyeshadow on her face. In both her hands, she gripped a black staff with white stripes. “Zach!” she cried out, running over to him and squatting down. She placed two fingers on his neck. “Trelvor, he’s alive, but…but barely!”

“What happened to him?” the young man accompanying her shouted. Unlike the girl, he was far more formal in his Elvish appearance. He was tall, with broad shoulders, black hair, and a diamond-shaped jawline. He wore a white cloak and held a flute in his right hand; the black raven was perched on his shoulder. Based on the girl’s words, Vim assumed his name to be “Trelvor.”

“Can you heal him, Seiley?”

She shook her head. “No. He needs the stones or a more powerful Elvish healer. But don’t worry! Kalana should be here very, very soon. She should be here any second, actually.” Grabbing Zach’s shoulders and shaking him the way Vim had, she said, “You have to hold on!”

Amid all this, Vim had almost forgotten about the snoring, axe-wielding man before him—as well as the insurmountable number of leveled fighters, troops, armored vehicles, and other nuisances hurrying their way over here. But it was the sleeping, black-haired man who Vim diverted his attention to, as he began to make a series of grunts before waking up. The young man then shook his head, his eyes snapping open. He looked around himself, noticing his dead allies. He howled in misery.

“You bastards!” he cried.

Vim scooted away backwards on his rump as the man resumed where he’d left off, raising his axe and swinging it downwards. But he fared no better this time around than he had before. Now, the girl called “Seiley” got back to her feet and darted forward at an impossibly fast speed, her staff held horizontally. Moving herself protectively in front of Vim, she blocked the axe with a clack, and then she glared at its wielder, who made a terrified-sounding, high-pitched squeak as if realizing how dire a situation he’d found himself in.

“You’re dead,” she growled at him. “You humans are gonna pay!” With hatred in her eyes, she removed one hand from her staff, threw her hand forward, and used it to grab his throat, which she began to squeeze. His eyes bulging, the man began to gasp and choke. She squeezed even more tightly. “Did you do this to Zach? Huh? Now you’re gonna die for it! You’re gonna—”

“No!” shouted another voice, this one familiar.

At a speed so fast it caused a gust of wind to blow over Vim, another Elvish girl seemingly just “appeared” beside him, and this one, he recognized: Kalana Vayra, the Elvish princess. Vim had no idea why she was here or what she’d come to do, but to his surprise, she shoved Seiley out of the way, causing her hand to release the throat of the axe-wielding man, whose face had turned blue and who then began to take heavy, desperate gulps of air. Seeing her, his fear seemed to triple in intensity.

“P-p-please don’t k-k-kill me!” he begged.

“Then drop your weapon!” Kalana shouted at him.

The young man obeyed her demand. Releasing his hold on the axe, he let it drop down to the sidewalk, and with that, he turned around and fled in the opposite direction, which Kalana seemed to allow. For a brief moment, she watched him scamper off, her eyes sharp like a hawk. But then her expression changed abruptly, and in a mere instant, it looked as though all the fear and worry in the world struck her in unison. Darting her head around, she asked, “Where is he? Where’s Zach? Please, tell me!”

“You ran right past him,” Seiley told her. “He’s right there next to Vim.” She pointed.

Kalana spun around so fast that the motion almost appeared a blur, her eyes honing in where Seiley indicated. Now, taking on a look of horror and heartbreak so strong that Vim was pretty sure he could actually feel a portion of it, she gasped, shouted out in anguish, and then she dove at Zach, launching herself at him and grabbing him with both her arms. A mixture of misery and pain was in her eyes. “What did you do to yourself?” she shouted at him, holding him tightly. “My baby, what did you do?”

Clutching him to her chest with just her right arm, she removed her left, reached into her pocket, and produced several of the highly coveted, invaluable rejuvenation stones. “You’re gonna be okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.” Tears ran down her eyes, her hands trembled, yet she steadied herself, and then, one after the next, she began slapping various healing stones down onto him. “You’re still alive. I’ve got you.”

Zach began to moan, but he said nothing, still completely unconscious as she hugged him tightly while administering two reds, three yellows, and two purples. Once more with both hands, she wrapped him into a hug, and she began to sob into the back of his neck. Vim could tell the girl really, truly loved him. She tussled his hair and cradled him, weeping for what was probably a number of different reasons. “I love you so much,” she said, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, and then hugging him tightly once more. “Why would you put me through this again? Why don’t you trust me? You gotta stop this, Zach. Please!”

Though he continued to remain unmoving, Vim exhaled with relief as he saw Zach’s ear begin to regrow, his face become much less pale, and his breathing return to a normal intensity. He probably wouldn’t wake up for a bit, but at least with the Elves around, he was in better hands now. Devoted ones, too. Vim couldn’t help but wish for a woman who loved him as much as Kalana loved the boy. His own wife despised him, their marriage entirely political.

He’s lucky, Vim thought. He probably has no idea how much.

Kissing him several more times, Kalana eventually set him very gently back down onto the sidewalk, and upon doing so, her expression turned from one of despair into one of strength. “Trelvor,” she said.

“Yes, Your Highness!”

She handed him two purple stones. “As soon as his hands stop shooting the umm, the fire thingies, you gotta give him two of these, okay?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Please. It’s really, really important. It’s ‘cause he’ll have a heart attack if you don’t.”

“I will not fail either of you, Your Highness. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Kalana now turned her attention to Seiley. “Okay, so…what happened here? Tell me everything.”

“I dunno,” Seiley said, bowing apologetically. “I only just got here. The queen told me and Trelvor that you were coming and that Zach needed help. I don’t know why he’s here or what the Gnome is doing here, either.”

“She speaks the truth,” Trelvor said. “Whatever trouble Zach has gotten himself into, Seiley and myself knew nothing of it and played no part. We arrived here only a moment before you did, Your Highness.”

Kalana gave Seiley a pat on the shoulder. “Okay. Got it.” She quickly turned her attention towards Vim, firing him a discerning glance. “And are you okay?”

Vim nodded—then coughed. “Now that you mention it,” he said to her, his eyes zeroing in on the stones in her right hand. “I don’t suppose you’d let me buy two more of those yellows off you, eh? And maybe a red, too? I’d make it worth your while.”

“Oh umm, you can just have them. Here ya go,” she said, extending her palm his way. “Take whatever you need. I brought lots just in case.”

Vim felt his mouth fall open with shock and gratitude as the girl simply handed over three more of the highly coveted stones. Without waiting another moment, Vim slapped each of them into his chest, and then, in the immediate moments that followed, he finally found true relief after weeks of torture and brutality. Right away, his head cleared, his fever receded, and it no longer hurt to breathe. His stamina returned in a flood, too. His broken nose healed, and so did his cracked ribs. From the easing of pressure in his eye sockets, he was willing to bet that his blackened eyes were finally returning to normal.

“Thank you so much, Kalana,” he whispered, in total disbelief at how much better he felt. “That was a rough two weeks.”

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. I’m not the one who saved you. He did,” she said, pointing at the unconscious boy lying on the sidewalk, where a black-and-white cat was now licking his forehead. Vim recognized it from the dragon raid. Fluffles, wasn’t it?

“I have to ask,” Vim said to her, “how did you know to come here? And why did Zach risk another nuclear bomb in coming here to save me?”

Kalana rubbed her chin as though thinking up how to word her reply. “My mom told me he needed help. That’s why I’m here. And umm, all that other stuff is really complicated. I don’t know that much either, and this is all a shock to me, too. I was doing a raid when I found out all these terrible things are happening. Umm, I’ll tell you all the stuff I know, but first, we should really get out of here before we have to—Fluffles, no! You promised!”

There was an explosion, one so loud and so unexpected it caused Vim to flinch and shield his face. From out of the clear, dark, early-morning sky, ten individual bolts of lightning slammed down onto the leading battle tank one after the next, each one brighter and more forceful than the previous. The last one in particular caused the entire vehicle to explode, almost certainly killing everyone inside. It also caused the entire advancing force to halt, as the destroyed remains of the tank gave off a hot, intense fire that threatened to spread to nearby buildings.

“Fluffles!” Kalana yelled, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him.

Fluffles meowed. “It wasn’t me. It was the mean guild man. Mean guild man do that.”

Vim chuckled. “Me?”

“Yes! Mean guild man kill five people. Fluffles was a good cat.”

Kalana grunted angrily. “Don’t do that again!” Then she looked at Trelvor and Seiley. “Same for you guys. No more killing. There’s enough of that in the world. I’m here to get all you guys out without…without any more of that. Oh! Guess what? I found out a way we can escape the city without using the dungeons.” She pointed behind herself. “Everybody follow me, okay?”

Another series of explosions rang out, but this time, from much farther in the distance. Vim frowned. “Take Zach and go,” he said. “And if possible, can one of you please lend me a staff? Any magic-capable one of any level will do.”

Seiley made a humming sound then shrugged. “I’ve got a crappy one in storage I can summon for you. But why?”

Vim turned his head towards the sounds of battle coming from what he believed was the southeast. “It’s my guild,” he said. “I don’t know why they’re here, and I don’t know why Zach’s here, but they appear to be in a very serious battle, and I can’t let them fight it alone.”

Kalana narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms. “Nah-uh. After what Zach did to save you, you’re not just gonna run off and go right back into danger. No way! Do you even know how hurt and upset I am right now? I just found out my boyfriend lied to me and…and didn’t trust me, and he did it for you. So you better not throw away your life after he hurt himself so bad saving it.”

Vim met her eyes. “I have to get to the Piercing Thorn. My people are dying, and I’m a lot stronger than I look. Give me a staff, and I give you my word that everything Zach put himself through will have been worth it.”

Kalana made a groaning sound. “How do I know you’re not gonna just go off and get yourself killed?”

“I voluntarily surrendered the first time around,” Vim said, speaking honestly. “This time, I will not go willingly. I must get to my fleet!”

“Are you gonna use it to kill people?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Obviously! Now give me a fucking staff and I’ll make sure you’re not followed. There’s something I’ve been wanting to try for a while now.” His lips peeled back in anger as his strength continued to return to him in a flood. “If you love the boy, you’ll want to take him away from this place. I can guarantee you’ll get out just as easily as you seem to have gotten in. I just need a staff. Please.”

Kalana fixed him with a very intense look, and she held it for a moment until finally, with a sigh, she turned her head to face Seiley. “Can you let him borrow a staff?”

“Yep. It’s not gonna be a good one, though. It’s pretty trash.”

“That’s fine,” Vim said. “Please, just give me something I can use to cast spells, and then take the boy and leave this city. Also, be very careful with him. He’s now the fourth-highest-ranking member of the Royal Roses.” Vim grinned. “As of this morning, he’s now to be known as Lieutenant Zachys Calador or Sir Calador. Either will do.”

Kalana shot him a glare that suggested she was neither amused nor appreciative of the title. Turning her back to him, she bent down, tenderly scooped him up, and put him over her shoulder. “Remember to give him the stones as soon as he stops shooting the fire thingies,” she said to Trelvor.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry him, Your Highness?”

She shook her head. “Nope. It’s okay. Just keep watching him.”

“Understood.”

Seiley handed him what looked like an ordinary, unremarkable wooden staff, which may well have even been level 1. Yet the moment Vim took it from her, he felt empowered, dangerous, and starving for some payback and revenge. With that, he waited for all three Elves to leap up then across a nearby rooftop, and all three vanished from his sight in moments, having taken Zach with them. Vim’s last sight of them was that of Fluffles’ bushy tail as he hopped from one building to another.

Now, Vim turned to face the stampede of people and vehicles heading towards him from farther down the road. They had maneuvered around the destroyed tank and were nearly upon him. Vim gripped the staff very tightly in his hands, and mentally, he recalled all the torture, pain, and abuse he’d taken at the hands of these bastards. He recalled the things they’d done to him, some of which he would never speak of and would do all he could to lock away in his brain. But for the moment, he allowed himself to relive it in full. It caused him to erupt with an anger greater than he’d ever before felt.

Walking into the middle of the street, he turned to face the incoming column of guild fighters, troops, and tanks. Several guns began firing at him, and though he was technically a mage, his constitution was high enough so that the bullets merely bounced off him.

“This is personal,” he whispered, watching as they drew closer and closer.

He lowered his grip down towards the base of the staff, and then he held it above himself. And now, for just a moment, he closed his eyes. He readied himself. He was going to use something for the first time: something he’d unlocked in the aftermath of the dragon raid.

Having slayed the beast, every member of the raid had been given a metal, card-shaped object called “Level Up! +2.” Many chose to save it for future use, whereas others, like Vim, having not leveled up in years, had used his immediately. Thus, for the first time in decades, he’d acquired a new ability. And it was not just any new ability, either. With the exception of Zach, it was an ability of a specific type that he doubted was possessed by any other member of any political guild, including his own. It was a type he had never even know existed until he’d unlocked it.

Legendary Unique.

Of course, Vim did not know for certain that Zach possessed abilities of this type, but having seen the boy in action, it was certainly a safe assumption to make. Regardless, he too had somehow been found worthy by the Gods of harboring such a power, and in his case, the power granted to him came in the form of an ability called: Calamity of Stars.

With an exertion cost of Very High, and a monthly recast timer, Vim had not yet found the excuse to use what he was fairly certain would prove to be a destructive, heinous power. But now, with a desire for revenge burning in his heart, he had at last found the perfect moment to unveil his newest ability to the world. And so, with his staff raised and his body rejuvenated, he activated Calamity of Stars.

Immediately, numerous beads of sweat began to fall down his face, and a heaviness came upon his shoulders. He also began to groan with exertion, and his chest began to ache. A Very High exertion cost was no joking matter, especially for someone as unpracticed as himself. It was no wonder a single use of it was able to kill someone as young as Zachys Calador. Despite having numerous decades as a head start, he himself could only just barely handle it.

With perspiration dripping down the sides of his face, he pushed himself just to the brink of exertion debt as he called upon this new ability. At the same time, every inch of the plain, ordinary staff Seiley had loaned him began to shine with a bright white light as though it were a flashlight, casting a glow all around him. But as bright as this glow may have been, it paled in comparison to the glow that suddenly came from far up above.

A few minutes away from sunrise, the sky was still mostly dark. But now, all across the horizon, dozens of white, star-like objects popped into existence, causing the entire city to become illuminated by a dazzling number of burning lights that would likely be visible for several-hundred miles. It also caused the entire column of approaching guild forces to halt in place and turn their heads nervously upwards.

In total, there were more than thirty of these lights, with each taking the form of an individual, miniature star. They were all positioned in a way that was seemingly random, too. Some of these miniature stars were grouped close to one another, whereas others were a bit distanced apart. Together, they formed multiple constellations; in Vim’s opinion, there was one set in particular that, if connected by a line, he would swear represented the shape of a falcon.

“This is for Ogre’s Axe!” he shouted, mostly to himself as only a few of them were close enough to hear his furious words. “This is for all one million!”

A flash came from just one of the miniature stars. Following this flash, a beam of pure-white light streaked down from the sky. Moving far, far faster than lightning, this wide, heavenly beam made a screeching, shrieking sound as it blasted its way downwards and struck the top of a tank, causing the entire vehicle to become absolutely obliterated; the vehicle detonated into thousands of individual pieces, along with an uncountable number of scraps from the torn-apart bodies of its occupants; combined, the shredded remnants of the tank and those inside were scattered in every direction while a screen of pure white light followed the explosion, creating a blinding effect that made it painful to regard with fully opened eyes.

“W-what the fuck is that?” screamed one of the soldiers. A moment later, there was another of the maddening, shrieking noises, and then he and the ten people nearest to him were vaporized as a second white beam of light slapped down from the sky and wiped them out of existence.

Then there was another—and another. Then several at the same time. Now, the ground shook and the city became bathed in light so intense that Vim had to close his eyes. One after the next, white beams of light from the miniature stars above battered the immediate area in front of Vim. Each time, a subsequent explosion would rock the city street, vaporizing everything it came into contact with. Some beams struck a bit farther away than intended and wiped out whatever—or whoever—happened to have the misfortune of being in its vicinity, including a pharmacy, several homes, a movie theater, and a four-story apartment building. Most, however, struck their target area.

Panting, Vim observed the destruction through narrowed eyes, though even then, he often had to close them when things became too bright. As best he could tell, there didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to how many times each star fired, as well as when it would choose to do so, in what order, and with what timing. Sometimes, four or five would go off at once, and other times, it would happen one after the next or there might even be a brief pause. There were moments when the beams were near to one another, and there were other times when they were spaced far apart. And though none of the beams appeared to be fired with any great precision, the combined force of such destructive blasts managed to eventually strike almost every target in the vicinity of the spell’s area.

By the time the ability concluded, Vim did not know how many people he’d killed or how much of the enemy’s military capacity he’d diminished. Yet when the blinding light at last faded, Vim knew the number of dead must have been close to a thousand. Now, the entire city street before him was missing almost all of its pavement, leaving behind something of a gigantic, block-spanning ditch—an indentation in the land that stretched from one end of it to the next save for just a tiny few and rare spots that were akin to jagged, upraised “islands” of concrete surrounded by depressions at least ten feet deep. The street beyond this one fared only slightly better, though not by much.

Surveying the destruction, Vim observed the armored remains of what he estimated to be twenty battle tanks, along with the blown apart pieces of hundreds of bodies lining this “ditch.” Vim marveled at the sheer depth of power he had brought to bear. He had killed every single one of their pursuers. Sweating, panting, yet feeling so much better than he had in weeks, he turned his back to the devastation he’d caused, and with that, he made his way to Haisel Ragora and his fleet. It was time to find out what was going on—and to lead his people.