Chapter 165: The Path of Destruction

As he restlessly continued to observe what could only be described as an unspeakably awful tragedy, Olivir did not think there was anything in this world that could pull his attention away from the terrible yet captivating bloodbath that was taking place ahead of him in the distance.

And then Kolona spoke, and Olivir could focus on nothing else.

The moment she finished speaking, he released a displeasured groan. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Geeze, Kolona,” he said. He stared at her a moment then began rubbing the back of his head as he released a nervous exhale. “You’re actually serious about this?”

She reached out to him, and then he felt her hand wrapping around his, still warm as she clutched his tightly and nodded. “We have to, Oli.”

Olivir muttered to himself. Suffice it to say, he did not agree whatsoever with the wild, insane thing she’d just suggested to him. It was even more harrowing that it’d come from her mouth of all people, as such a thing was so unlike her. But most importantly, it was an easy way for one or both of them to get killed.

“So, you know that, uhm, if we play our cards right, we can live for thousands of years, yeah? Do you really want to risk all of that on this one little epoch?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course not,” Olivir said, frowning. “Epochs pass, Kolona. And unlike the rest of the world, we remain.”

Kolona squeezed his hand more tightly. “You know what your problem is, Oli?”

“What?”

“You’re a big-picture thinker. And that’s a good thing a lot of the time. But sometimes it’s not.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You can’t always view life as one big timeline that you can just wait out, where you assume that nothing that happens matters if you just wait long enough for it to be a distant memory. Because you know what, Oli? Sometimes, it really does matter what happens in the small moments. Even if it all ends up fading with time. Yeah, we can live for thousands of years, but is that the only thing in the world that’s important?”

“Eventually, yes.”

Kolona playfully shoved him. “Well, I don’t live for the eventually or for the forever. I live for the now. That’s where you and I are always going to be different.”

Olivir looked beyond the grasslands and at the city, which was under siege from three different directions yet somehow seemed to be holding out. Honestly? The most likely conclusion to all of this was its total destruction, and that was becoming clearer and more obvious by the moment. Of all the possible ways things could play out, everything was shaping up to conclude with the Elvish annihilating all non-allied life in the city: everyone from the guild’s soldiers to the children hiding in their homes. Hell, probably even their pets, too.

It was terrible. There was no doubting that. By no means was Olivir unbothered by the prospect of yet another city falling victim to a mass-extinction event. For this reason, he was willing to do whatever he could to help steer events away from that outcome—as long as he could do it safely and without jeopardizing his or Kolona’s life.

But Kolona…she was starting to come down with whatever craziness was running through Lord Oren’s head, and this, Olivir found incredibly perplexing since she wasn’t even human to begin with and had no reason to care for their lives. Not to mention the region was controlled by the Guild of Gentlemen—those responsible for the torture and cruelty she’d experienced in her early upbringing.

The humans here hate and despise her kind, and yet she still wants to get involved…

Olivir shook his head. Her idea was ridiculous. It was nuts! But…it might actually work. He had to at least give her that. It could actually work for how utterly insane it was.

“I’m crazy for even considering this,” Olivir said to her. “My sole priority is to protect you.”

“Then nothing changes,” she said. “I’m going no matter what. So if you want to protect me, you’ll just have to come too.”

Olivir sighed. “So…that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, folding her arms. “That’s how it is.”

“Gods damn it all.” Olivir stretched his back and neck muscles as he mentally prepared himself to become even more involved in this heinous fiasco. He couldn’t believe he was really about to try something so wild. “This might be the dumbest thing a pair of vampires has attempted in thousands of years.”

Kolona made a cute, squeaky laugh. “Only if we fail.”

“Yeah…only if we fail…”

*****

For all his determination, Alex was not an idiot. Logically, he knew that he wasn’t likely to live beyond the next few moments. He knew that he, a man who had decided to stand alone against thirty-three leveled members of the Guild of Gentlemen, could not rely solely on his experience and knowledge to endure the coming onslaught from such an overwhelming number of enemies.

He knew these things. He understood them. There was no issue with his brain comprehending the facts.

And yet, his ironclad will to persevere was so strong that it overwrote his common sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t grasp his situation, but more that his heart was signaling so strongly that he needed to stand and fight that he was willing to disregard all logic and rationality out of a sheer refusal to give up or abandon what he knew was right. His heart and mind were in conflict, and the former had won out.

Switching back to a two-handed grip on his blade, he held the weapon towards the base with his left hand positioned directly above his right. He bent his knees slightly, extended his arms a bit farther, and now he scanned the foot of the street before him, where various lights, sounds, and colors were entering the world as staff-wielding healers and support began to cast a wide array of numerous different buffs on their allies, who then began to fan out, creating the start of what would likely turn into a wide net headed his way.

I won’t be stopped here, Alex vowed to himself. I don’t care how many of them there are!

It wasn’t just their buffs he had to worry about. If anything, those would be the least of his problems. No, it was everything else that Alex needed to be mindful of, and in this context, everything else really did in fact mean everything. As in: all of it. All the “roles” or “archetypes” that made up the world of adventuring were represented before him, and this was true even if the men and women he’d be facing did not label themselves adventurers.

Aside from the obvious threats of melee weapons and magical projectiles, Alex would also have to contend with crowd control, debuffs, curses, poisons, enemy healing, ranged physical attacks—all of it. There was enough plainly visible variety in the enemy’s defenses here on 1st and Haven Street that Alex was fairly sure they had everything covered. And as for Alex? He had only himself. He was fighting alone.

Thus far, no one from the Lords of Justice had shown up to assist him despite his ardent plea over the Comm. Not even one of them. And Alex didn’t need to risk stealing a peek over his shoulder to know that nobody was on their way to back him up, either. No, Alex could tell that much just from the chatter coming over the Comm in his ear. He was able to listen in as those who could disengage safely announced they were doing so, and he highly doubted any of them were about to have a sudden, imminent change of heart just for his sake. Sadly, Alex couldn’t even really blame them for choosing not to stand with him. Or at least…he couldn’t blame them as much as he blamed the Elvish.

The Elves made it impossible for them to resist the urge to flee, Alex thought.

Simply by virtue of knowing what the Elves had planned, the leveled members—as well as the level-1 troops—were naturally choosing to retreat. And why wouldn’t they? Because of the Elves, they knew that their homes and families were not in peril—they knew that they didn’t absolutely have to continue fighting and dying to the last one of them. Given the option, of course they would choose to return to their families, especially after so many had already been brutalized in what was shaping up to be a historic defeat.

Thanks to Queen Vayra’s shocking level of transparency regarding her intentions, every last one of them knew that even if they failed in their plans, the problem would still be resolved anyway, as the Elves would simply blow up the city. Faced with such knowledge, the desire to avoid fighting had likely been overwhelming from the start. In fact, now that Alex thought about it, it suddenly dawned on him that it probably played at least some role in why the Lords of Justice had performed so poorly to begin with. Indeed, the Elvish had created a disparity, because in the minds of those on the battlefield, the Guild of Gentlemen were fighting for their continued existence, whereas their own side had been fighting out of a sense of morality, duty, and honor.

“Lord Oren, please, retreat!” cried Lord Quillisk, the fourth-ranking member of the Lords of Justice. “We’ve lost a quarter of the guild already. These people aren’t worth fighting for. Leave them to their fate!”

As others chimed in with agreement, Alex removed his left hand from his sword, lifted it to the side of his face, plucked the Comm out of his ear, and in a very defiant yet admittedly Zach-like fashion, he crushed it between his fingers then opened his palm to let the various pieces fall to the street.

This did not go unnoticed.

“Hear something ya didn’t like?” taunted a woman wielding a mid-sized shield in her right hand and a broadsword in her left. The sight of her caused Alex to tense up, though it was not because he found her intimidating but because the tall, armored woman had an appearance that greatly reminded him of Lady Theolina; she even had the same emerald-green eyes. Her mannerisms, however, were completely different, which she demonstrated after Alex had gazed at her a bit too long.

“What’re you looking at, sugar?” she asked. She made a cruel, wicked grin. “Something catch your interest?”

Alex ignored her and instead locked eyes with Wexzel Ultdern, who stood in the middle of their rapidly widening formation. His serpentine, artifact-quality staff, which glowed with an intense, red aura, appeared at odds with his blue-white set of plate armor and his full helm.

“It’s not too late to surrender,” he said, a sadness in his voice. “But I’m not going to make any real effort to convince you, because I already know that nothing I say will deter you from your decision to choose death over life.”

His remark angered Alex to a much greater degree than it should have. Really, it was the audacity of it more than anything else. His brow furrowing, Alex regarded Lord Ultdern. He did not bother to hide the displeasure he knew must’ve been creeping onto his face. “That’s a disgusting remark,” Alex replied bitterly. “A horribly shortsighted thing to say, especially coming from your side.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is, Sir Ultdern. After all, the whole reason I’m here at all is because I’ve chosen to take the side of the living.”

“The thousands of corpses you’ve left in our streets suggest otherwise, Lord Oren. All of that wasted life—and for what?”

“For what?” Alex snapped, unable to believe what he was hearing. “To save the lives of your citizens. That’s for what!”

A look of surprise flashed across Wexzel’s eyes, and it caused Alex’s anger to fall away immediately and for curiosity to take its place, as Alex did not understand the man’s stunned reaction. For some reason, what Alex had just said seemed to have had an impact on the large, plate-armor-wearing man, for he seemed so taken aback by Alex’s words that he actually paused a moment, halting in place. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. “Are you actually making the outrageous claim that your violent presence here is of some benefit to our people?”

The man’s confusion caused a secondary confusion in Alex, as Alex had thought his words were quite clear—or at least they should have been. Yet it was only now that he spoke them aloud that he realized the Guild of Gentlemen likely had no idea what was about to happen to them, and it came to Alex as something of a revelation, though it should’ve been obvious from the start.

Does he not even know? Alex wondered, suddenly coming to grips with the possibility that it might truly not have occurred to the Gentlemen what the consequences of their “victory” over the Lords of Justice might be. Gods, they don’t even know!

“Listen to me, Sir Ultdern,” Alex said to him, sensing a very real opportunity to negotiate his way out of this conflict. “Please: hear me for just a moment.”

In what seemed to come as a surprise to his allies, Sir Ultdern raised his gauntleted palm in a gesture signaling for the others to halt. This caused numerous, dissatisfied-sounding murmurs from his fellow guild members, which he seemingly ignored as he fixed Alex with a stern, unblinking stare.

“What is it?” he asked.

Alex knew that, much like his brother, Maric, the man’s patience could only be stretched so far. Thus, he wasted no time in cutting right to the chase. He didn’t know if anything he said would be believed, but it was surely the kind of thing they’d at least have to take seriously.

“The reason I’m fighting so hard to get to your king,” Alex began, “is not because I’m trying to win a war or conquer your city. It’s because, if I fail, every single innocent life in Shadowfall Coast is going to die in just a short while from now—along with the rest of you.”

Upon these words, all muttering ceased, and all eyes focused more intently upon him. If nothing else, Alex could tell he’d succeeded in gaining their undivided attention. This was good. Seizing upon this, he continued to truthfully explain the dilemma they were in—one that they were seemingly not even aware of.

“By now, I’m sure your guild has figured out that we know you don’t have any more of your new weapon ready to fire—but that you will have more very, very soon.”

“He said what now?” a man wielding two purple swords whispered to a sickly-looking man in black robes carrying a scythe.

From the blank stares and turned heads, Alex got the impression that many of those here did not know what he was talking about. This made sense, as such a thing would likely have been a well-guarded secret known only by those high up in rank such as Sir Wexzel Ultdern, the guild’s third-in-command. Offering Alex a grunt along with a quick, curt nod, he acknowledged what Alex was saying to him. In the same instant, his fellow guild members became agitated as though they were hearing this for the first time.

“The hell is he talking about?” asked the broad-shouldered woman wielding a slingshot.

“He’s full of shit!” shouted a man with white hair and crimson-colored eyes. Alex wasn’t positive, but he believed the man to be the 13th in command, Gentleman Baine Restlocht. Visually, Gentleman Restlocht looked like the oldest of the bunch of them with his fully silver hair and his wrinkled face. Oddly enough, however, Alex was fairly sure the man was only in his early seventies. Yet he looked like he was thrice the age of someone like Wexzel Ultdern, who was over a hundred years old.

“I’m not lying to you,” Alex told him.

“Like hell you aren’t,” Gentleman Restlocht growled in response, reacting as though he were deeply offended by Alex’s words. He began to massage the large, orange-red-colored crossbow he carried in his arms. Judging off the ornamental dragon’s head mounted near the foregrip, Alex was willing to bet it was yet another item that’d been stolen from the raid. He scowled at Alex as though desperately wanting to fire the weapon, but in short order, his scowl was replaced with a shocked gasp as Wexzel decided to confirm every word of what Alex was telling them.

“What he’s saying is true,” Sir Ultdern said, speaking loudly enough so that the thirty-two other members of his guild on the street with him could hear his words. “This may come as a surprise, but since it’s hardly a secret worth keeping anymore, you may as well hear it from me and not him. Despite what you’ve been told, the intercontinental ballistic missile we fired at Ogre’s Axe was in fact the only one we possessed.”

“Wait, seriously?” coughed out a woman with the Guild of Gentlemen’s emblem tattooed on her forehead. Her voice became high in pitch as though she’d spoken out of a sense of disbelief. “I thought we had hundreds ready to fire: enough to destroy anyone who dared to stand in the way of humanity’s progress a thousand times over!”

“No,” Sir Ultdern replied. “That was a necessary lie we told in order to keep humanity safe. Yet, somehow, the enemy discovered otherwise. They’ve also discovered our timetable for building more of the weapon, too. If we faced any less dangerous a foe, I’d be inclined to try taking him alive for questioning, as we have no idea how such well-guarded secrets were able to leak.”

Alex made a slight gesture with his chin. “Actually, Sir Ultdern, if you really want to know so badly, I could just tell you how it happened. I really don’t mind.”

Sir Ultdern cocked his left eyebrow. “Oh? You’d just come right out and tell me?” he asked, his tone implying he had serious doubts that Alex was being genuine. “You’d tell us just like that?”

“I would,” Alex confirmed. “If you really want to know, you can just ask. I actually have no reason to keep it a secret. Not that it really matters, though.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

Clearly skeptical, Sir Ultdern narrowed his eyes and said, “Nevertheless, if you’re actually volunteering this information for free, then tell me, Lord Oren: how did your guild learn what it knows? How could it possibly have penetrated the numerous layers of airtight security we’d set up?”

As Alex replied, he kept a perfectly straight face. “The Gods told us so,” he explained, stating it bluntly.

“The…Gods told you?”

“Correct. To be exact, they communicated telepathically with someone on the inside here in Shadowfall Coast, and then they relayed that information back to us: also telepathically. That was how we found out.”

There was silence for a moment, and Lord Ultdern stared at him with a dumbfounded look. But this quickly fell off his face, and now, the man clenched his jaw tightly as though angered. “I thought you far too mature and dignified to play these kinds of childish games with me, Lord Oren—Alex.”

“This isn’t a game, and what I told you is the truth.”

“Preposterous! This is a crude attempt at mockery.”

Alex sighed, and then he shrugged. “Like I told you: you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Of course I don’t.” His frown deepened. “Who would?” Sensing the question was rhetorical, Alex did not reply, and instead, he allowed the man to continue speaking. He watched as Sir Ultdern made yet another waving motion with his armored hand, but this time, it was one that he took to be a dismissive gesture. “However it is your guild came upon this information, there’s no longer any reason for either of our guilds to be coy about the facts here: they are what they are. Somehow, you found out.”

Alex nodded. “And that’s why we’ve come,” he said, though he was now speaking more to the thirty-two other guild members than to Sir Ultdern. “From your perspective, it must have seemed like an act of suicide, no?” he asked them. “For us to show up here and attack your city despite the likelihood of total destruction we would face? But now all of you should understand why we’ve come. It’s because we discovered the truth, but even more importantly, we’ve become aware that, in slightly more than an hour from now, your guild will have another weapon built and ready to launch. We’ve come to stop that from happening.”

Another short moment of relative silence lingered over 1st and Haven Street, though in this case, perhaps “silence” was too strong a word; the sounds of war and death were continuing to play out in every direction, with explosions and gunfire coming from sources both near and distant. There was also the occasional cry of pain from the sky drake as Queen Vayra and a group of her Elves dealt with it above the ocean.

“So…wait a minute,” the woman with the tattoo on her forehead said after a moment as though puzzling something out. She looked over her shoulder and in the direction of the city, and then she looked back at Alex. Her mood seemed to suddenly lift, and so did the spirits of all of those around her as they seemingly stumbled upon the same idea at the same time. “So, if everything you’re saying is true, then that really does explain why the Lords of Justice and the Royal Roses chose to attack us. It means you’re not crazy after all. You were all just jumping at an opportunity. But then…but then wait a minute, because if that’s the case, it sounds like what you’re actually saying is…”

“…that all we have to do is hold off the invasion for another hour and we win!” cheered one of the men, his tone exuberant. Others joined in soon after.

“That’s exactly what he’s saying,” the woman replied. Then she too cheered. “There’s no way they’ll break through by then, and then they’ll all have to surrender once we have another weapon to defend ourselves with. We’re going to win!”

“Gods, you’re right!” Gentleman Restlocht shouted, raising his crossbow victoriously. “They’ll all be licking our boots and begging us for forgiveness once we cook up another weapon. The Gods be praised! Humanity is going to win this fight!”

As the various members of the Guild of Gentlemen vocalized their joy, one could be forgiven if, just for a moment, it seemed more like a party or a celebration was taking place on 1st and Haven as opposed to something far darker and bloodier. Alex sighed. He tried to continue speaking but he actually had to wait for the nearly three-dozen members of the Guild of Gentlemen to cease their abrupt cheering and gloating before he could even be heard.

“You’re wrong,” he said to them when they finally quieted down. “All of you are so completely, totally wrong, and you still don’t get it.”

“What don’t we get?” asked Sir Ultdern. “My patience is growing thin. Explain it now, Alex.”

“Very well,” Alex said. With his weapon still gripped tightly in both hands, he raised his voice and continued to explain it to them. “Right now,” he began, “you’re not just fighting a battle against humans, but you’re fighting against Elves, too—Elves that have thus far fought you conventionally, pitting their strength against yours. But they also know what I know. So why don’t you tell me: what do you think they will do if we don’t find and destroy your weapons before the next one is ready to fire?”

Even before he’d finished speaking, he could see that a great many of them were beginning to stir and shift their feet as though becoming nervous, yet it was only in a slight way that suggested to Alex they still did not understand the full gravity of the situation. And so, he decided to illuminate it for them. Taking just a moment to scan the numerous faces before him, he once more settled his gaze on Sir Ultdern and laid it out as simply as he could.

“By defeating us here,” Alex said, using the most serious tone of voice he could conjure, “you have just made it more likely that the Elves will resort to their backup plan.”

“Which is?” asked a short man with curly red hair and a face full of freckles. He was wielding crystal-colored staff, his knuckles turning white as he clung to the weapon. Understanding was beginning to work its way into his expression, but it was important that he heard it said aloud despite this.

Alex looked at him and said, “Their plan is to bombard your city from a distance with magic and then run through it again and again at full speed until they’ve leveled all of it: until every single human in Shadowfall Coast is dead along with whatever you were building. That is what every slain member of my guild was fighting to prevent, and that is what fate awaits Shadowfall Coast if I can’t find and destroy your weapons before the Elves run out of patience.”

The reaction from the Guild of Gentlemen came in all at once, and it began in the form of murmurs that progressed into a chorus of loud, angry shouts from so many people at once that Alex could hardly make out what any individual person was saying. Their reaction was exactly what he’d been hoping for: it was exactly what he’d need to convince them to stand down. At least…among the majority of them. But there was one man who did not seem shaken, and he was the man who most needed convincing.

“So that’s what you meant,” Sir Ultdern whispered. Given the increase in the level of noise, Alex was amazed he could hear him at all. Thankfully, his fellow guild members quickly began to quiet as he started speaking. His face softened ever so slightly, and he gave Alex a brief but meaningful nod. “So that’s why you didn’t retreat with the rest of your guild.”

“Correct.”

He smiled. “Very noble of you, Sir Oren. I always knew you’d be better off in a real guild as opposed to mingling around with those silly little ‘adventurer’ gangs my brother loves so much.” Though harsh, the words were spoken with a fair degree of mirth, but the playfulness in his voice did not last; at once, his tone became darker and far more serious. “This at least tells me one very important detail.”

“Hm?”

His expression turned grim yet also eerily pleased; it was as though something Alex had said had caused him to become less worried as opposed to more. Alex had no idea why or how that was even possible, but it did cause a sense of foreboding to take hold of him—one he had to fight to keep at bay.

Sir Ultdern lifted his chin somewhat, and he did not blink a single time as he spoke. “Through some means, you discovered our bluff and even the nature of our production capabilities, and yet…despite this, I’ve just learned that you don’t actually know where to find our weapon facilities.”

“That’s…true,” Alex admitted. “We don’t know where they are. But that is not something that should cause you any degree of relief. Like I said, the Elves are going to—”

“It’s strange, though,” he continued, either deliberately interrupting Alex or no longer listening to him in the first place. “How can you find out the first two but not the third?” he asked, the question again seeming more rhetorical than inquisitive. He lifted his shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I now understand the situation so much better.”

“Then what will you do?” Alex asked him—or meant to ask, anyway. Although he spoke the words, his voice was drowned out as nearly ten members of the Guild of Gentlemen all called out the exact same question via slightly different wording.

“What do we do, Sir Ultdern?” one asked.

“What should we do?” another asked at the same time, a trembling quality in his voice.

Sir Ultdern raised his staff as though to signal for their attention. “We continue on,” he said. A very dangerous glint entered his eyes. “Don’t worry about the Elves. Of all the possibilities we have feared coming to pass, the one that high-command has spent the most time considering these past few weeks is the possibility of an indiscriminate Elvish attack directly on our city. Rest assured: we have already taken precautions.”

Is he serious? Alex wondered to himself, trying not to fret as the man’s confidence began to worry him. There’s nothing they could possibly do to stop the Elves. He’s either delusional or a fool.

Of all the ways that things today could end, the destruction of Shadowfall Coast was only the second worst among them. The worst, by a far greater magnitude, would be any event in which the Guild of Gentlemen was somehow able to build another nuclear weapon. Compared to that, even the utter annihilation of the city was preferable. Therefore, just the mere suggestion, however implausible, that his guild might have some defense against the far-superior Elves…it was enough to roil Alex and make his knees feel weak.

They can’t. There’s no way that they could.

Sir Ultdern looked to his left and nodded, then he glanced to his right and did the same. Finally, he met Alex’s eyes. “This conversation is now over. You’re either going to surrender immediately or die. If you choose the latter, then forgive me, Alex, but I will do what I must.”

As he spoke, the leveled members of the Guild of Gentlemen once more began inching towards him. In response, Alex took several big hops backwards to gain some distance while raising his blade. It looked like he was going to have to kill his way through after all.

*****

With the lance of a unicorn-mounted, white-cloaked Elf running through its belly, the sky drake suffered 42,627 points of damage and at last died. It released one finally cry, and then, following a loud boom that could likely be heard two regions over, the entirety of it vanished into what looked like a combination of fire and haze. Unfortunately, it was not kind enough to also take with it everything it’d consumed on its way over here—including about fifty level-1 troops of the Royal Roses.

Now, raising his hands above his head like two miniature umbrellas, Vim ducked as bones, guts, pieces of destroyed fighter jets, and gallons upon gallons of blood rained down upon the Piercing Thorn. Even though most of it thankfully drifted on the wind and ended up in the ocean, there was still enough left over to paint a significant portion of the upper deck red.

“Fucking dragons,” he muttered. “I’m sick of them.”

“As are we all,” said an effeminate voice that was accompanied by a flapping, wing-like sound. Glancing upwards, Vim watched as Queen Vayra, flanked by seven of her Elves, landed their unicorn mounts atop the deck. She too was covered in blood, but she gave no indication that it bothered her in the slightest. Hell, it definitely didn’t. The woman was insane. She probably liked being covered in it. But at least she killed the damned thing.

At the cost of a fortune…

With the sky drake having been dealt with, Vim sighed with relief. All things considered, they’d made out okay. His mages had managed to hold the sky drake off long enough for the Elves to come and pull aggro, and through some miracle, they hadn’t lost any additional battlecruisers. They even had four fighter jets left, which was certainly better than zero.

“Haisel, tell the pilots they can return now.”

The last four remaining jets had been ordered to pick a direction and keep flying in it until the situation here had been resolved. This was because, clearly, they were the drake’s primary objective. It was only through a healthy combination of taunts and crowd control that they’d managed to save the four jets and their pilots along with them.

“They’re on their way,” Haisel replied. “The pilots are requesting we give them a rest.”

Vim shook his head. “We can’t spare it. They can have whatever time it takes us to refuel and rearm their aircraft, but then we need them back in the air. Even just four bombers are enough to make a critical difference in this war.”

“I agree,” Haisel said. He turned his body to face the queen, her winged, white-haired mount staring at him. “Thank you for your aid, Your Majesty.” He bowed to her, and she lowered her head in acknowledgement. Then Haisel shot Vim a stern, expectant glare. “Sir Alazar?”

“Yes, yes.”

With the beast slain and gone, Vim extended his hand towards Queen Vayra to show his gratitude—and then he swore loudly and vengefully as her Gods-cursed fucking unicorn opened its mouth, extended its neck, and chomped down, biting his middle finger clean off his right hand. Vim cried out in pain as his guild reacted immediately to the slight, with several of them drawing their weapons including Haisel Ragora.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Sir Alazar!” a mage shouted, his expression lighting up with raw hatred as he glared at the unicorn. The sound of boots rushing along the deck followed his shout.

With the same hand that had been bitten, Vim waved him—and all the others—down. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll use a stone to grow it back. Everyone, calm down! It clearly wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh yes it was,” Queen Vayra said. “It was very much deliberate. Good girl, Snowcone.” She began patting the top of the beast’s head.

Her words caused many of those aboard with him to become fiery and indignant, so Vim had to once again demand that they cool their temper. He wasn’t about to get into a war with the Elves over a finger—although he was definitely not going to forget this any time soon.

His hand dripping blood, he stared daggers at the woman. “I’m deducting the cost of a red rejuvenation stone from whatever I owe you.”

Queen Vayra smirked. “You’d actually waste one of your ‘precious’ little jewels on a missing finger?”

Vim nodded. “Of course. I have to have some way of flipping you off after what your flying rat just did to me.”

Clearly possessing some rudimentary level of intelligence, the unicorn made a loud huffing noise. Vim glared at it and decided that if he ever had the chance to do so, he was definitely going to kill it and eat it. Waving his throbbing hand, he waited for someone to bring him one of the red stones, and then he crushed it with his hand. Although it would take a bit to grow back his finger, the pain at least came to an immediate end.

Compared to what the Guild of Gentlemen put me through, this is nothing, he thought.

For the second time—and also to ease tensions—Vim slowly and cautiously extended his hand in the queen’s direction. This time around, she made a cooing sound and patted the top of her mount’s head, and then she offered her own hand in return. Vim took it and kissed the back of it as a show of respect, but very quietly, he said, “I’m never forgiving you for that you fucking bitch!”

“Careful,” she whispered, glee in her eyes. “I’ll have to take another finger if you continue with that tone.”

Vim gave her his most hateful expression. Never had he been so angry—and aroused—at the exact same time. But that was something he really couldn’t afford to reflect upon right now. No, there was a war going on, and there were big things happening all over the place. He needed to keep his focus on what was most important. To that end, he let the entire thing slide for the moment.

“Your Majesty,” he said, doing his best to keep his temper in check.

“Yes?”

Vim took a step backwards before he continued speaking, not wishing to stand anywhere near her mount. “Since you’re here already,” he continued, “you might as well push west with my forces rather than fly all the way back to where—”

“No, that’s ill-advised, Sir Alazar,” she said, cutting him off. “As a matter of fact, I would strongly suggest you begin winding down your operations.”

Vim frowned. “And why would you suggest that?”

Queen Vayra dismounted, her boots clicking down on the deck of the Piercing Thorn. She turned around, cupped her hand over her forehead as if to filter out the powerful, morning summer sun, and then she gazed in the direction of the city.

“Because it’s getting late,” she said. “Yes, I think it’s indeed time you recalled your forces.”

“It’s getting…?” Vim narrowed his eyes as it occurred to him what she was implying. Immediately, his temper returned with a fury, shooting from a three up to a nine. “Now just wait a damned second here!” he shouted at her. “It’s still way too early for you to be talking about that.”

Fylwen’s expression turned icy. “No, it’s not,” she said. “Time is just about up.”

Vim lifted his foot and slammed it down hard enough to crack through a piece of the upper deck. “Don’t you even think of blowing up the Gods-be-damned city, Fylwen! You’re being an idiot!”

Upon these words, every one of her Elvish warriors—and their unicorns, too—spun their heads towards him as if wanting to either bite, stab, shoot, or magic him to death for having the audacity to talk to their queen in such a way. Still, Vim ignored all of them. He kept his focus solely on the woman. “You’d be making a very serious mistake.”

“How so?” she asked, appearing a great deal calmer and more collected than he currently was. Yet in her eyes, there was now a deadliness that could not be ignored: a resolve to commit an unspeakable and ruinous act. And an entirely unnecessary one, too!

Becoming frustrated, Vim pointed his finger across the short stretch of water and at the city. “Unlike the Lords of Justice, my boys and gals are kicking ass right now. We’ve got the situation well under control. There’s no damn reason for you to go blowing everything up. If you do that, it’ll make the entire city worthless. This place will be a goldmine under my leadership, and you aren’t going to ruin that for us.”

Fylwen chuckled. “So, this is more about your want of coin than out of any concern for the lives of those who live here?”

Vim actually snorted in response to her ridiculous question. “Of course it is. I’m half Gnome—three quarters if we’re being technical. These people hate me. They hate me so much that they beat me and maimed me and…” He ripped the rest of the statement out of his mind, not willing to recall some of the more profane indignities that had been inflicted upon him. “The people who live here are garbage,” Vim finished. “I don’t care what you do to them. But I need the infrastructure intact.”

Fylwen chuckled once again. “All you care about is coin. Truly, it amazes me. It’s no wonder my daughter’s mate is so well-suited for the Royal Roses. The two of you are a match made in the heavens.”

Vim scoffed at the comparison, as it was actually unfair and totally off basis. “It’s true I want the gold, but it’s not for lining my pockets. I have mouths to feed, homes to rebuild, and people who rely on me. If I don’t earn, they don’t eat. Ever since Peter IV got us cut out of global trade, it’s been a nightmare keeping everything from falling apart. I’m probably the only guild leader in the history of North Bastia who lives in a one-bedroom apartment. I give everything I can spare to my people. I rented out my entire estate just to salvage every coin I can.”

Rather than reply, Fylwen seemed to be studying his expression. Vim locked eyes with her, and he too said nothing for a moment. He took a short break to calm himself before continuing to speak. Then, lowering his voice somewhat, he said, “Look, my people are the ones who were hit by their weapon. Believe me: if I thought there was any chance that they might get ahold of another, I’d join you in wiping out the city. But we are winning this fight! There’s no need for you to destroy Shadowfall Coast.”

His words were not a bluff: they were quite literally the truth. Unlike the Lords of Justice, which had gotten absolutely obliterated in what might just be one of the most-humiliating defeats in the past few centuries, the Royal Roses were thrashing the Guild of Gentlemen. And this really did not come as much of a surprise to Vim, either.

Of all the guilds in North Bastia, none had been put through what the Royal Roses had been forced to endure over the past few decades—Peter IV had made sure of that much. His members knew how to fight, and how to fight well. Maybe nowhere near the level of the average adventurer, but compared to the softhearted Lords of Justice with their upscale lifestyles, aristocratic temperaments, and silly idealism? There was no simply contest between them. And yes, the Guild of Gentlemen had tried to deploy all the same kinds of little “tricks” and “tactics” on them that they’d used on the LOJ, but it was not working on the Royal Roses.

“We’re winning,” he repeated, speaking even more enthusiastically. “I reckon that within two hours from now, we’ll have conquered enough of the city to occupy any possible launch sites. Meaning, even if they do finish one of their weapons, there won’t be a single spot they can launch it, effectively neutering them until we can search every nook and cranny of this place.”

Of all the things Vim had said to her since she’d landed aboard their aircraft carrier, it was this for some reason that brought about her anger. Whirling her body around to face him, she opened her mouth and shouted, “That is not acceptable!”

Confused and startled, Vim blinked several times before responding. “Huh? Why not?”

“Because, Gnome, we cannot allow them—or anyone—to ever create such a weapon in the first place.”

Vim, becoming even more confused, pursed his lips together to form a question, but he was so puzzled by her actions and sudden shift in tone that he wasn’t even sure what to ask. It actually took him a good few seconds before he could put into words what he was trying to say.

“I don’t get it,” he spoke at last. “If we make it impossible for them to launch, who gives a shit if we find their weapons today, tomorrow, or two months from now? What does it even matter? Who cares?”

“Our God cares!” snapped one of the green-cloaked Elves.

“Precisely,” Fylwen agreed. “That’s exactly why we cannot wait.”

If her words—and the words of the green-cloaked Elf—were meant to, like, you know, “clear things up” or whatever, it was actually having the opposite effect. Vim once again found himself with his lips pursed and a question on the tip of his tongue that he wasn’t quite sure how to get out.

“I’m not understanding,” he said. “This makes no sense.”

“It is not that complicated, little man.” Fylwen moved closer to him so that she was towering over him and staring down at his face. “We have been given a direct order from our God to disallow even a single new weapon from entering this world.”

Vim turned her words over in his head. “Now wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that the inconsequential technicalities of how we dispose of their weapon matters just as much as actually doing so?”

“Correct.”

“…and this is because your ‘God’ told you so?”

“Correct.”

Vim drew a deep breath, which he released slowly. “Okay, two problems with that, Fylwen. One: Gods and Goddesses aren’t actually real. They’re fairy tales our parents tell us to make us behave. And two, if you’re hearing voices in your head, you should really talk to someone about that.”

Fylwen folded her arms as if to suggest she was not impressed by his choice of words or his tone. Vim didn’t care. He knew he was correct. She didn’t seem so convinced, though. “I intensely dislike you, Gnome. Not only do you call me a liar, but you inquire about my sanity, to boot! If you do not believe me, then ask the boy—ask Zach. He was there for this.”

Vim shook his head and tried to avoid chuckling. “Oh really? So you’re telling me Zach heard this imaginary voice too?”

“Heard it? He was the one who introduced us.”

Vim’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what?”

As though she were losing patience, Fylwen snarled at him. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you understand or believe what I’ve told you. The Great Lord Adamus has commanded us, and we will not disobey the orders of a God.”

Of all the things she’d just said, it was the name Adamus that most stood out to Vim, as he’d heard it once before—on the night they were attacked during their celebration. As they’d retreated north, a badly rattled Zach had been shouting about him. Subsequently, Vim and the other political guild members on the raid had learned that he was something called a “Great One.” Supposedly, he was a very powerful individual that had played a role in forming the world.

But to the Elvish, he is a God?

Vim looked away a moment so that he could rub his eyes to relieve some of the stress that had suddenly begun building up. “Are you sure your ‘God’ actually cares about the trivial details of how and when we dispose of this weapon?”

“Yes!”

Exasperated, Vim’s words nearly got caught in his throat. “Well…well I don’t care! You’re not blowing up Shadowfall Coast!” He extended his arm and pointed in a general northern direction. “I already lost an entire city. A million of my people. Can you even imagine a number that large?”

“Yes,” Fylwen said, her face abruptly turning red. A look of fury came upon her, though Vim realized after a short moment it was not directed at him. “Yes, I can, little Gnome. Humans are awful creatures.” The fury vanished, and now a strange, seemingly out-of-place softness entered into her eyes as she looked down upon him. “I will help you rebuild.”

“Help me rebuild?” Vim asked, repeating her words. “I’m already in debt to you for—”

“I will waive the debt, and I will find a way to provide you with the gold you need to rebuild. We will work together and come up with a solution, but I must not disobey our Lord, Adamus.”

Her turn from cold and ruthless to warm and compassionate occurred so quickly and without warning that Vim was thrown off by it. He tried to speak, but he stammered, having become confused by her behavior. But in no time at all, she reverted to her typical self, and she stood up straighter, glancing at him haughtily.

“Now, I’ve heard enough from you on this subject,” she said. “Besides, I’ve already given the order. My Elves will begin bombarding the city momentarily, though they will begin in the southwest and the northwest. You ought to have enough time to pull your people back and get them to the coast. I’m being more than reasonable here. Continue to badger me, and I might just stomp you into the deck as punishment.”

Vim scratched his ear. “How in the hell is that a punishment? I want that to happen. Do it, Fylwen. Do it. Stomp on me right now. I want everyone to see it happen, too. Make sure you don’t miss the balls.”

Her lips twisted sourly, and she turned away in apparent disgust. “Vulgar, perverted, vile little Gnome.”

*****

Alex concentrated. Despite his racing heart, and despite the fact that the hairs all along his arms and legs were standing on end, he somehow managed to focus. Right now, there was zero room for error. He had to function more like a machine than a man: he needed to have every single sense in his body at full capacity, analyzing, studying, and interpreting. He needed to be in a constant state of full alertness—to keep his head moving, allowing his eyes to take in every last possible bit of data. And he needed to do all of this without letting up for even a microsecond, for to do so would mean an instant death.

The only thing that would keep him alive now—the one and only chance he had at surviving—would be his vast knowledge of abilities and how they functioned. If even the smallest chance of victory existed, it would without question come as a result of using the enemy’s lack of skill and experience against them. Alex would not be able to go on the attack; no, he would only be able to capitalize on their mistakes. To defeat them, he would need to catch them out of position or in the process of making a fatal error. Outside of that, every muscle in his body needed to be devoted solely towards defense. This was not going to be simple. This was not going to be easy.

They’re coming.

Even as they began encircling him, Alex kept his eyeballs moving. He needed to be fast not only on his feet but in his brain, too. He needed to be sharp: he needed to be mentally agile. He took note of things as fast as it was humanely possible to do so, such as the fact that of the eight casters that made up the leveled defenders on 1st and Haven Street, five of them were likely mages, three were healers, and two were support—and all of them were casting a spell.

At the same time, two archers and Gentleman Restlocht were opening fire as well as the broad-shouldered woman wielding a slingshot; this, as the rest of them began moving towards him from three directions: to his left, his right, and from the front. But those he would have to worry about in a moment from now. For the time being, he had too many other things to contend with.

Right now, Alex stood at the very foot of the street. Since 1st and Haven was also a main road, it was far wider than most, which meant there were four wide lanes for dual-directional traffic, and he was in the middle of all of four. Beside him were several burned-out husks of civilian DEHVs that had been destroyed in the earlier aerial bombardment by the Royal Roses’ fighter jets. To his left was a badly damaged two-story apartment building, and to his right was a three-story complex with a demolished storefront; what had once been a clothing boutique was now a demolished, charred tomb of death. Smoke was still rising out from within.

Farther ahead of him was where the level-1 troops were residing next to the bombed MLRS units. The troops, wisely, were choosing to stay out of this confrontation, likely knowing that there was very little—if anything—they would be able to do other than get in the way and die. Alex was glad for it. This was going to be bloody enough without having to stomp on a bunch of 18-year-old kids who had no business being out here.

I have to be precise. I have to be fast!

Thinking as quickly as he could—as fast as he had ever before commanded his brain to think—Alex made several hasty yet hopefully accurate determinations. For one, it seemed like both of the support mages were about to cast Daze II on him. This, he determined by the yellowish aura that came upon the staff wielded by a lanky man with a seemingly permanent grin affixed to his lips, as well as a similar glow that lit up a shimmering spell sword gripped in the right hand of a woman with dark braided hair. Judging by both the luminosity and the size of the aura, Alex could rule out Daze III or—Gods forbid!—Daze IV. And since it was too intense a glow to be Daze I, he felt comfortable in his prediction.

Another sight worthy of note was the third of the five mages counting from the left. Alex wasn’t entirely certain, but from the way he was twirling his raised staff around in circles, combined with the total lack of any noticeable physical effects, it seemed like he was about to cast Glacial Vortex, a relatively uncommon ability in the adventuring world and one he did not expect to see from a member of a political guild.

There were other hazards, too, such as the fact that Alex suddenly wanted to abandon everything in the world that he cared about in order to charge forward and rip apart the woman with the sword and shield who’d reminded him of Lady Theolina. This, he surmised, meant she was actively using a taunt on him.

I don’t care about her, he told himself. I don’t need to attack her. I don’t!

Taunts were a pain in the behind because they were instant-cast and could not be dodged or even detected ahead of time. Their weakness, of course, was that with a sufficient-enough willpower and a determined state of mind, they could be mentally resisted, as Alex was doing now. The same was true of fears, though fears were significantly more difficult to resist.

Hyper vigilance, he told himself. That’s the key to survival. That’s the key to everything. Hyper vigilance!

Fast. He needed to be quicker. He needed to think quicker. What was the plan? What was he up against? Okay, so there were two mesmerize spells being cast, but they’d come in last. One of the mages was clearly, overtly casting Seismic Reckoning, two others were angling for some kind of Firebolt variant—there were so many but most were essentially the same, differing only in color—he already knew about the Glacial Vortex, and he wasn’t quite sure what the fifth mage was doing. It looked like he was going to cast Scorching Bolt II but it might’ve also been Crack of Thunder. That left only the two healers, who were once again buffing their allies and not an immediate threat.

Okay.

There were also some projectiles zipping across the air towards him and they were traveling at great speed. This was…this was tough. But doable. He could do this. He had to do this. But first things first: dealing with Seismic Reckoning. That was going to come in first. And indeed, the concrete split apart not far from where he stood, and eleven flat, pancake-shaped rocks burst up from the ground with a dull crunch. They hovered about ten feet above the street for just an instant before they made a screeching sound as they hissed down the road moving towards him. They took off in a way that was staggered so that a few tenths of a second separated each.

Thankfully, Alex had already lifted his sword and had begun to swing it around the air above him, quickly casting Elemental Ward on himself as well as Barrier of the Brave, which increased his magic resistance by 5% and his physical resistance by 8% respectively. His one and only unique ability—his summoned blade—allowed him to cast spells despite being a traditional melee weapon. He could spot the surprise in his enemies’ faces as a golden aura briefly wrapped around his body before vanishing.

The two spells wouldn’t provide much in the way of defense, but they would at least make some difference if he ended up taking a few hits. But as things stood, the gravest threat to him—by far—was crowd control. Alex might survive a bit of damage here or there, but if he became mesmerized, his death was assured. The same was true for most other crowd-control effect as well.

The only thing I absolutely cannot let them land on me is CC!

His eyes continuously moving, Alex kept a careful watch on the melee-oriented members of the guild closing in on him while simultaneously keeping tabs on the incoming, pancake-shaped rocks that zipped across the air and over the heads of numerous members of the Guild of Gentlemen as they made their way to Alex. They moved so fast that they even pulled ahead of two arrows, a flaming crossbow bolt, and a large, ball-shaped pellet fired by the slingshot.

Alex activated Light Volley. Above his head and in a horizontal row, sixteen arrows made of pure light materialized in the air. Removing his left hand from his blade, Alex thrust his palm forward, and following this gesture, all sixteen of them fired off, each making a high-pitched whistling in the air as they raced to intercept the numerous sources of danger heading his way.

Only a fraction of a second came and went before the first of his arrows collided with the nearest rock, causing the rock to shatter into pebbles and the arrow to vanish into nothingness. The same was true for the second and also the third arrow. The fourth missed, and Alex was forced to bend his body backwards to avoid being struck in the face. Thankfully, his arrows managed to take out the remainder of the attack as well as the crossbow bolt, one of the two bow-fired arrows, and even the slug from the slingshot. The remainder went wayward and whistled off into the distance, leaving Alex with no choice but to narrowly avoid the second of the two arrows that had been heading straight at him by lurching off to the side.

Now, his first hurdle cleared, he was immediately faced with another. Not a half-second following the first round of attacks, three separate bolts of fire converged upon his location all at the same time, two being a bright orange in color and one a dark red. The archers, the woman with the slingshot, and Gentleman Restlocht were also already firing another round of ranged attacks, too, keeping up the pressure.

Abruptly, the early yet hot summer air suddenly began to feel a whole lot colder; an arctic-like wind began to blow, and in spite of the current season, a snowy, blizzard-like haze came upon the world from seemingly out of nowhere, one which only affected a small section of the overall street. In the span of a few seconds, an entire coating of snow dusted the concrete below his feet while the hazy wind slightly reduced visibility, though not to the degree it posed a threat. What did pose a threat, however, was the sudden rampaging tornado of ice and snow that appeared roughly twenty feet away and grew larger and larger as it blasted icy gusts of wind while making its way towards him.

Before Alex could even consider what to do about the incoming twister, he first had to contend with the brief flicker of bluish-red light that emanated from above, signaling to him that the mage with freckles and curly red hair had indeed activated Scorching Bolt II. Having seen that ability spammed on electric- or fire-weak bosses thousands upon thousands of times, Alex knew very well that it would present itself as a blue-red flicker before striking directly downward a quarter of a second after.

Unfortunately, the timing of it was bad: really, really bad. Because all around him, about a dozen or so orbs of perfectly yellow, pulsating, electric-like energy were releasing little sparks that quickly grew and expanded until they joined together to form something akin to an electric fence, one that surrounded him like a ring; each orb floated a few inches above the fresh coating of snow, and now that they were linked together, time was growing very short. Because this, he knew, was the crowd-control ability called Daze II, and anyone susceptible, be they mob or a living creature alike, would be mesmerized if they remained within the fenced-in area.

In this moment, Alex’s greatest weapon was his brain. Even with so much to contend with coming at him all at once, he processed the situation to the best of his ability and made a very quick determination on the best course of action.

Priority one: avoiding the Scorching Bolt and the mesmerize. This, he could do with the exact same movement.

Bending his knees, he leapt upwards and back-flipped out of the way as a combined crack of electrical energy intermingled with fire struck down from the sky and slammed into the snow, not only melting through a fair bit of it but even leaving a rush from orange flames in its wake.

Flipping his body right-side up, Alex landed back down onto the street just outside the electrical, fence-like perimeter of Daze II, which at last activated, causing an entire screen of blueish static to fill the area within its bounds before quickly fading away along with the yellow orbs surrounding it; had Alex still been standing there when it had gone off, he would have been mesmerized and killed.

For this reason, even as his feet touched down softly on the snow, he was forced to immediately and urgently spring forward yet again, as the second Daze II had been deviously placed behind the first. Had the two support mages been slightly more coordinated, both would have gone off at the same time, and Alex would have been trapped. Thankfully, a tiny window of time existed wherein Alex could jump back and then forward again, avoiding both.

The downside, of course, was that Alex would have to absorb all three Firebolt attacks. This, he’d been expecting. He knew he would have to take a few hits. It was either this or be mesmerized. It was simply how the timing worked out.

Gritting his teeth, he braced himself as he launched himself forward and into the three magical projectiles, each one exploding on his body upon impact. The first two socked him in the stomach and third one got him right in the face. Alex closed his eyes briefly before it smacked into him, and he hissed in pain as a searing, burning sensation came upon his skin. A moment later, he landed on his feet exactly in the spot he’d been standing when the first Daze II had been activated.

I’m okay, he told himself as a stinging, throbbing pain spread all over his face while a lesser but still intense ache filled his midsection. Though it hurt, Alex did not believe he was critically wounded; it seemed the mages here were not—at least individually—all that powerful. It reminded Alex that, even while he was so overwhelmingly outnumbered, there was still at least a chance, especially since he’d just taken three direct hits and was only mildly hurt.

I have to stay focused. There’s a lot more coming!

Whipping his arms to the left and then to the right, he slashed his blade back then forth, cutting two more arrows out of the air, and then he side-stepped around another crossbow bolt that whizzed by his ear. Once more, he braced himself yet again for a hit he wouldn’t be able to avoid as a slug from the slingshot cracked right into his chest, and this, he really, really felt.

Alex groaned as he was pushed back, stumbling. It was only through sheer willpower that he remained on his feet and was not toppled. This time around, the result was agony. The pain in his chest felt like an intense throbbing combined with a burning. Yet somehow, he regained his composure immediately, and this was a good thing, too, as the tornado from Glacial Vortex was upon him—and with it, Alex sensed his very first opportunity.

Rather than flee from the tornado, Alex instead leapt closer towards it—so close, in fact, that he accidentally drew too near such that the spinning vortex of ice and snow made contact with the skin on his forearm, cutting into him like a sawblade and ripping up a shallow but painful layer of his skin. Even still, Alex kept close, backing slowly away from the tornado while keeping it very near to him. And for this, he was rewarded.

Three more Firebolts came in around the same time, and all three slammed into the tornado instead of Alex, each one dissipating into nothingness upon contact. The same was true for another two arrows as well as a slingshot slug and another crossbow bolt. And with the tornado directly in front of him, Alex knew he was too obscured for the curly, red-haired mage with the freckles to visually target him, which was required in order to use Scorching Bolt II.

What a foolish thing to use in a human-on-human combat encounter, he thought as he caught his breath. Many, many more attacks came in, and the fast-spinning tornado repelled each and all. This ability is meant to be used on big, slow-moving bosses or large clumps of mobs—not people.

It was a sign of the mage’s ignorance that he had actually called upon such a powerful but incorrect ability to use on Alex. The tornado, though incredibly deadly, was simply too slow to be of any practical use in this form of combat, and so for the moment, Alex continued to back measuredly away from it without straying too far, ensuring it provided him cover while trying not to get cut again.

“I can’t hit him!” a voice shouted. Alex couldn’t tell who the voice belonged to with the tornado in front of his face.

“Gods-dammit, Kerle!” a different voice yelled. “Your stupid fucking tornado just gave him a lifeline. You dumb shit!”

“I’m sorry!” a frail-sounding voice replied. “I thought it would rip him apart.”

“How is he even still alive?” another person asked. “How is he doing this.”

“I don’t know, but I think he—”

“Quiet!” commanded the voice of Sir Ultdern. “I warned you—all of you—to take him seriously. The gap between us and the adventurers is enormous. It’s bigger than any of you think. Now stay sharp and hold back until Gentleman Kerle’s…whatever that thing is called goes away.”

Sir Ultdern’s words astonished Alex, as even he, being the best of them, and being a man who’d been alive for over a century, did not know that the ability in question was called “Glacial Vortex.” The mere fact of it filled Alex with hope that he could still pull this off and prevent a human catastrophe in the making. Even still, it wouldn’t be easy. On their own, Alex was sure he could slaughter any one of them while blindfolded, but thirty-three leveled fighters all together was still close to insurmountable—and his reprieve was about to end.

Before long, the tornado halted in its pursuit of Alex, and then without any kind of gradual slowdown, its spinning simply came to a stop and the whole of it vanished away just as quickly as it had appeared; a few plumes of dust-like snow rose up on the air, shimmering, sparkling, but ultimately disappearing along with it. But the shallow snow that was now covering an entire quarter of the street, however, remained, though with the haze dissipating and the very hot summer sun in the sky, it would likely all melt within five minutes.

“There he is!” someone shouted. It was the man wielding two glowing, purple swords.

“Resume the attack!” Sir Ultdern called.

Alex readied himself. The melee had closed in on him now, and the casters were all whipping up more nastiness for him to deal with. Things were about to get even worse.

*****

With her right hand, Kalana cupped her palm over her mouth, and with her left, she squeezed Zach’s wrist tightly enough to cut off circulation. “Come on,” she chanted as a big metal ball rolled down a slippery narrow alleyway and headed towards ten white pins that stood defiantly at the end of it. “Come on, come on, come on…”

The ball struck the pins, and all ten collapsed. “Yes!” Kalana cheered. “I did it, Zach! I did it!”

“Yep, you sure did. Good work, Kal.”

“I think that’s it, too,” she said cheerfully. “I think we have enough tickets now, you guys!”

Zach smiled. He was actually impressed. Kalana turned out to be really good at this “bowling” game that the dungeon creator, Olandrin, had invented. How had he even thought something like this up? Even Jimmy, who claimed to love games, would have to admit that this was a fun and unique one: something he definitely couldn’t get back in his old, boring world of the past. Zach couldn’t wait to tell him about it when they found him.

“Good job, Your Highness,” Trelvor said, bowing. Seiley echoed her agreement, though just the slightest bit less formally.

Rian, on the other hand, merely formed a sour expression, as he hadn’t been able to hit a single pin. Lienne didn’t fare that much better, but she nevertheless seemed to be having a good time despite this, and she shared in Kalana’s cheer. Zach, for his part, had done okay, but he wasn’t trying all that hard, and Tena had done slightly worse, but she had a lot on her mind. Fluffles, who had done as badly as Rian, was still muttering that the game was rigged and that “Olandrin cheat Fluffles.”

“I appreciate all you guys hurrying for me,” Tena said, placing her hand over her heart as if to impress upon them that her words were sincere. It wasn’t necessary. Zach believed her. How couldn’t he? She was right about what she’d said earlier: if it had been him in her shoes, he’d be bashing down walls trying to get to Kal.

“How long until the grape wears off?” Rian asked.

“Not sure,” Zach said, rubbing his chin. “The ones at Angelica’s usually only last a few minutes, but we’ve been here a half hour and we’re still in a reduced state.”

In order to ensure “fairness,” this particular “floor” of the “dungeon” required two things from all participants: that they consume a nullification grape upon entering, reducing all their stats to 1 and purging all their abilities, and that they change into a “bowling outfit” complete with special shoes that were actually kind of fun to wear.

“Everybody, let’s umm, let’s go back to the locker rooms and change quickly so we can get to Faded Island," Kalana said. "We all promised Tena we'd hurry."

Seiley and Trelvor nodded; both had become incredibly eager to find Jimmy, seemingly thinking that it was now their “mission” to see that he “adhered to the Goddess’s plan for him.” It was enough to make Zach laugh, though he did so quietly so as not to upset the easily offended Trelvor. The guy could not take a joke and had almost no sense of humor.

“Come, let’s make haste,” the young, white-cloaked Elf said, turning and walking back towards the lockers and beyond numerous round dining tables. But he stopped and paused a moment. Zach watched as Trelvor then bowed his head at a group of seven older adventurers seated together and sharing a meal. “Oh, and once again, happy birthday to you, Lensella. It was a pleasure meeting you and your friends.”

“Thank you, dear. The same to you.”

Zach smiled at the group of them. At first, he had been surprised to run into them here—until he remembered how popular this place actually was. They weren’t even the first group of adventurers they’d stumbled across since arriving. Not even close, actually. This was like the ninth bunch! What was unique, however, was that this group was the first Zach had seen that had come here for the sole purpose of throwing a small birthday party, something he still couldn’t believe happened in a Gods-be-damned dungeon of all places.

I just can’t think of this as a dungeon. I just can’t do it.

He, Rian, and Fluffles followed behind Trelvor and made their way to the male locker rooms while Kalana, Tena, Seiley, and Lienne huddled together and became all talkative as they giggled their way to the girl’s one across this wide, party-like “floor” of this dungeon. Actually, the whole place had a party-like atmosphere, but this so-called “bowling alley” really topped it off. NPCs here sold pizza, soda, and tons of different types of junk food, and there were even little boxes that for 5g would play a song for you.

“So, Fluffles,” Rian said as they strolled into the blue-tiled locker room, “where in Faded Island is Jimmy hanging around, anyway?”

Fluffles meowed and didn’t reply, and Zach had the sense it was either because he either didn’t “feel” like saying for whatever reason or, as was more likely the case, he didn’t know how to describe it in a way that would make sense to the human brain. Whenever Fluffles ignored questions or didn’t reply, a lot of the time it really was because he couldn’t be bothered, but there were times when he didn’t know how.

“He’ll show us when we’re there,” Zach said. “Right, Fluffles?”

Fluffles stopped short. He sniffed the air, and then he spun around. “No.”

“No?” Zach asked, surprised. “The hell do you mean ‘no?’”

Fluffles meowed a second time. “I go play with Ruby now. I’m bored!”

“Wait, what?” Rian asked grumpily.

“Fluffles want to do something else now!” the cat replied with a hiss.

“But didn’t you come with us just to help us out?”

“Yes.”

“But…you’re leaving before you actually even do it?”

“Yes! You all take too much time. Fluffles have fun but I want to play with Ruby now. And also Fluffles hate stupid smelly horsie!”

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Zach asked.

Rian shrugged. "No idea."

Zach craned his neck to look down at the cat. “Fluffles, you can’t just—wait! Ahh, shit!”

It was too late. Fluffles turned around and practically vanished. He was gone so fast that Zach couldn’t have grabbed him even if he’d tried—which he wouldn’t because that would only get him scratched, bitten, or both. Even still, he was annoyed that Fluffles would just bail on them—but he certainly wasn’t surprised, though. That was just something to be expected from the cat. He did what he wanted and that was just the way of it. Still, it was kind of bullshit that he ditched them after they played with him and fed him all day.

Zach sighed. “I guess we’ll just have to find him on our own. I've got no idea how we're going to do that, though. It's a pretty big region for something that's technically just an island.”

“Eh, relax,” Rian said. “I’m pretty sure he's not gonna be all that hard to find.”

“How do you figure? He can be literally anywhere on Faded Island. Where do we even begin to look?”

“Obviously, the pubs and wherever else they sell booze. Duh.”

Zach shook his head. “No, I doubt it. He’s only nineteen, so he’s too young to drink.”

“So? It’s not Angelica’s out there, Zach. You realize there’s not going to be, like, a level-thousand-plus NPC stopping him, dumbass.”

“You’re the dumbass,” Zach grumbled. He had no other comeback beside that, though, because he had to secretly admit Rian was probably right. Given his situation, it probably wouldn’t be all that difficult for Jimmy to get a drink, especially if he flashed his level or was wearing something from the adventuring world. That alone would be enough to make just about any level-1 obey any request he actually had.

“All right. Let’s just get over there and we’ll see what we can turn up.”

Zach reached into his locker and grabbed his adventuring gear. He’d thought of putting it in Bank and Storage until he realized stealing from this place was virtually impossible and that, even if it could be done, the adventurers would never, ever steal from one another. The very idea of it was almost impossible to imagine. They lived in such a different reality than the rest of the world, and this was despite the fact that most of them had once been normal, level-1 people, too. Only a few adventurers were born into the world of adventuring as the children of existing adventurers: the rest were guided into it by the OMP. Therefore, Zach found it amazing how they could so easily cast aside all the worries and pain and suffering in the world and live as though none of it mattered or existed.

Boss fighting is the only thing they do that in any way connects them to the rest of society.

Zach did not voice these thoughts aloud, and he doubted he ever would—at least in front of the adventurers, anyway. As things stood, there was already a risk that they were starting to see him as not quite being one of them anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was further that impression by talking like Mr. Oren. But he knew he was right. And what was more, he was beginning to fear that he couldn’t live that way: that he couldn’t just pretend that level-1 people didn’t exist and that their lives were of no concern.

To be clear, he certainly wanted to. He'd been seeking an “offramp” almost since the day the dragon had spawned; ever since then, all Zach had wanted to do was “clear the final hurdle” that would allow him to make a clean break from responsibility so that he could live a life of pleasure and riches with Kalana. But with each passing day, he was starting to wonder if he was ever going to be able to sever himself from the responsibilities of society in such a broken world.

He was starting to feel a sense of duty, and it frightened him. But what lay beneath all of it was the simple fact that any given level 1 in this world could have been him. If his life had taken even a slightly different turn, they could have been him. He could be them, and they could be standing where he was in his place. And that thought alone was enough to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

*****

Jimmy slammed his cup down onto the bar table, and he released a hiccup. “Ahh, shit, man, sorry dude. Sometimes I forget my own strength.”

He didn’t even really have that many points into strength, and somehow, he not only broke the cup, but he put his hand through a big chunk of the table. The glass-coating shattered, and a chunk of the wood broke off. Several patrons he’d become chummy with lowered their drinks and stared at him in fear as though only first remembering who he was and what he was capable of doing; until this point, he’d totally erased the tension with them. But damn did it come roaring back as he unintentionally reminded them.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said to the bartender. Was it just him or was the room spinning? It was probably just him. He wiped his lips and then he pointed at the man. “I’m gonna pay for that. Don’t even worry about it.”

The bartender swallowed nervously. “There’s no need,” he said. He lowered his eyes and glanced down at the destroyed table, and he surprised Jimmy, bowing before him apologetically. “It wasn’t very sturdy. It’s my fault if anything.”

Jimmy laughed. “Nah, dude, it was obviously my bad. I’m gonna pay for that. Seriously.”

The man bowed yet again, this time even more apologetically and graciously. What was with these people?

******

As Fiona Darkmae, guild leader of the Children of Order, listened to her personal secretary deliver a completely unexpected report, she couldn’t help but ask him to repeat it for clarification. “Whoah, seriously?” she asked, lowering the speed on her treadmill in the newly modernized aerobics gym on her dead-father’s estate. She continued to do so until it came to a stop, and then she turned to face the man. “What kind of disturbance?”

Wiping her forehead, she got off the machine and then draped her red towel around the back of her neck while she continued to listen in. “So is he threatening anybody?”

“No, Madam Darkmae, but he has become slightly destructive.”

“And he’s definitely an adventurer?”

“Yes, Madam Darkmae.”

She scratched her chin. “That’s weird. Usually, they don’t show up and cause disturbances like this. They have their own secret hangouts or whatever. Okay, you know what? I’ll go check it out myself.”

“Are you sure? We could send someone to—”

“No, no, it’s okay. Let me get my staff.”

Fiona was soaked in sweat, her clothing clinging to her as she strutted across the gym. As the protector of Faded Island, she wasn’t about to let any adventurers show up here and cause a ruckus—if that was what this “Jimmy” was indeed doing.

Nope. Not on her watch, anyway.