Chapter 96: Ziragoth the Awoken Part II

Often considered the noisiest, liveliest place in North Bastia, the large, oval-shaped plaza known as “Diamond Paradise” at the southwest corner of the city in Tomb of Fire was typically the scene of nonstop activity around the clock every day of the week and every week of the year. It was also the most-popular tourist destination of any human-controlled territory: so much so that this one district, which only spanned a few square miles, was responsible for over twenty percent of the revenue that Tomb of Fire earned in any given year—and that wasn’t just for the city, but the entire region.

During the day, Diamond Paradise buzzed with music, street performers, and a swarm of people entering and exiting one of three dazzling skyscrapers over sixty floors in height on the western side of the plaza, with each floor containing businesses ranging from various types of retail stores to entire movie theaters, restaurants, and in the case of the middle building, an indoor amusement park. On the eastern side, where most people would head during the night, there were gigantic, upscale casinos that featured free drinks for gamblers as well as live musical performances.

For the more than three decades that Milona had worked as a cashier at a toy shop on the 47th floor of the middle building in the trio of skyscrapers, there didn’t appear to be a force on Galterra capable of slowing this place down. It didn’t matter the time of day or what else was going on in the world: Diamond Paradise was always loud, lively, and full of energy.

At least…until this morning.

Right now, despite being packed with many thousands of tourists, as well as locals, workers, and a construction crew, the entire plaza had become drowned in a freakishly uncharacteristic silence. Milona, having come outside to frequent her favorite coffee and donut stand, had been just about to return to work when a video broadcast started playing off the front-facing side of all three skyscrapers, including the one where she worked and had only just exited. Each window in the building was not only capable of transmitting an image clearly in broad daylight, but in addition, it could produce external sounds, too, a feature which was rarely utilized.

Now, however, the speakers had been turned on, and the voice of a reporter filled the plaza. Abruptly, most conversation came to a halt, people stopped strolling about, musicians ceased playing their instruments, and in unison, every single head turned towards the west and angled upwards as what appeared to be live footage of the battle with the dragon was aired to the world.

I thought this was supposed to be a few hours from now, she thought, suddenly becoming nervous.

She could see the confusion on the faces of those around her. They’d told everyone that the “mission to protect North Bastia” would begin somewhere closer to noon. Yet that clearly was not the case, as the sun had risen only a few minutes ago, and things had already begun.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen for another few hours,” someone in the crowd whispered fearfully. “Does this mean something went wrong? Are we in trouble?”

“Don’t assume that,” a female voice replied. “I’m sure everything’s fine. Don’t forget: Grundor is with them.”

“You’re right. We can’t lose with him on our side. Did you see what he did to the dragon yesterday?”

“Is there anyone in the world who didn’t see that?”

Neither the chyron on the bottom of the feed nor the words spoken by the reporter, whose voice accompanied the aerial footage shot from one of the news helicopters, seemed to make any mention or offer any explanation as to why the raid was taking place ahead of schedule.

“It’s all hitting me right now,” a woman near Milona whispered, clutching her husband’s arm. “I know this has been going on for a few days, but it’s all starting to finally feel real to me.” She shuddered. “What if they lose?”

“They won’t, honey.”

“Okay, but what if they do? That would mean the end of everything, right? It could even come here next.”

“It’s going to be fine,” her husband said, though his words implied a level of certainty a bit greater than that shown in his eyes. “They know exactly what they’re doing.”

Ahead of Milona, a younger couple were whispering to one another as well. “I just want this to be over already,” a girl said to her boyfriend. “I can’t sleep at night thinking about this.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed.

Outside of these types of similarly whispered conversations, there was an otherwise unprecedented level of quiet save for the sound of the reporters who were broadcasting this to them all. It was so surreal and unusual. Diamond Palace was never this quiet or still.

And now, as it fully, truly began to sink into Milona that this was really happening and not just some distant problem, she too began to feel terror rising within her. If the guilds for some reason were unable to kill the dragon, it would only be a matter of time before it made its way here and destroyed everything around her. This much, the news had made plainly clear.

Glancing at the tops of the trio of skyscrapers, she felt her head become light at the thought of the ravenous wyvern swooping down unexpectedly from above and unleashing a fireball powerful enough to vaporize every floor simultaneously while she was still inside of it, suffering a slow, agonizing death. She could vividly picture all of Diamond Paradise up in flames. She trembled at the idea of the fancy, tree-lined pathways and elegant, stone-carved water fountains in the center of the plaza reduced to rubble along with the rest of the place—just like the entire town of Den of Ziragoth had been.

Please, Gods. Please don’t let that happen to us too.

As she continued to watch, she suddenly found herself wanting to sit down, yet she remained where she was. She had no idea what she was seeing, and she didn’t understand enough to know if they were doing good or not. All she knew was that she, as well as thousands of others around her, could not control their collective gasp as a loud bang rang out over the speakers when an incredibly strong-looking Elf absorbed the savage beast’s tail, which had tried again to bludgeon him.

Please win! Please protect us!

*******

Following a mighty battle-cry, the white-cloaked Elf named Londril slammed his shield into the face of the dragon, dealing 52,188 damage and causing a countless number of tiny red tendrils of electricity to begin covering its entire body like veins. Zach recognized this for what it was: a stun. Now, temporarily unable to move, the off-tanks retreated and allowed the DPS of Battlegroup 1 to once more charge into action, and like before, a mixture of Elves, adventurers, and political guild members began ripping apart the fearsome monster with various types of weapons, causing more and more blood to stain the grass-covered terrain.

As Zach watched on in amazement, he couldn’t help but hope that, through some miracle, the document on Ziragoth was incorrect, and that the fight would stay just as it was right now, because this was about as one-sided as things got. Thus far, no one but those in Battlegroup 1 had even participated, and already, Ziragoth had lost over three million of its HP.

The Elves are so powerful, Zach thought. With a hundred of them here, I don’t see how the dragon stands a chance.

With each passing second, more and more of the dragon’s health was whittled away as it struggled ineffectually and desperately to land any kind of attack on at least one of its assailants. Whatever Londril was doing to keep the beast taunted, it was clearly working, as aside from the occasional area-of-effect attack, such as its tail-spinning sweep, it continued to focus the majority of its efforts on breaking through the seemingly unbreakable shield held in the offhand of the axe-wielding Elvish warrior.

So far, the wyvern had not attempted to call upon any of its adds as it had done when Olivir had put it to sleep yesterday early afternoon. Distantly, Zach wondered what would happen if it turned out the dragon wasn’t going to spawn them in after all. Would Mr. Oren change his mind and order BG3 and BG4 to the frontlines as originally planned? Zach supposed it would all depend on how things played out. He had no choice but to trust that Mr. Oren knew what he was doing, because at this point, they were pretty much already in too deep to reverse course.

“Keep it up,” Donvan’s voice said over the Comm. “So far, so good.”

Hit by hit, the dragon continued to suffer under the impressive effort that BG1 was putting on display. A routine of sorts had been settled into, whereby the off-tanks and DPS would regularly trade places while the tanks continued to remain where they were up front. At one point, Ziragoth pulled back slightly, opened its mouth, and then continuously released an inferno of scorching fire. For nearly ten full seconds, a whooshing sound filled the grasslands as Londril and the tanks to each side of him were absolutely blanketed in flame, the grass burning up beneath their feet and the sight of their bodies becoming lost to the intense orange glow.

For an instant, Zach feared that each of them might’ve just been roasted alive. Yet when the dragon at last closed its mouth and the flames came to a halt, Londril and the other tanks were still right where they’d been, only now their shields were extended in front and above them. With that, they simply returned to attacking, plainly unharmed.

Although the vast majority of spellcasters and support had been assigned to Battlegroups 5 and 6 and were either standing on top of the wall or directly in front of it, there were still a few members of BG1 and BG2 who occupied each of those roles. And so, while the melee-centric BG1 continued its onslaught, Zach watched as one of the political guild members—who he took to be a woman in the People of Virtue—twirled her staff around while causing variously colored puffs of smoke to appear above the dragon’s head.

Zach did not know if it was because they were in the same raiding party or if it was something he would be able to tell regardless, but he could actually see with his own eyes what, specifically, she was doing to the dragon, as right below its name, there were now red-colored down arrows next to the words “STR” and “DEF” and “DEX,” with each of those words appearing on the heels of a different color of smoke.

She’s debuffing it, he realized, nodding to himself. Wow, it’s going down real, real fast!

With a smooth, efficient steadiness, the members of BG1 continued to expertly destroy the T7 fire wyvern. At the rate they were currently going, it would probably only take another two or so minutes before the beast was at half health, which Zach recalled was the point where it was reportedly going to “switch over” or something and enter a “second phase.” At least, that was how long Zach guessed based on the current rate of decrease.

But then things sped up—dramatically.

“All right, now’s the time,” Donovan’s voice said over the Comm. “BG5, BG6: unload on the son of a bitch! I wanna see you rain down hell! BG3, BG4, and BG7: continue to watch for adds.”

As soon as Donovan spoke those words, things began to change quickly: very, very quickly. And even that was understating it. As the ranged DPS finally decided to join the fight, Ziragoth came under assault by a force of such awesome, unfathomable power that it was like a smiting from the Gods themselves.

With an eagerness that could be sensed, the spellcasters and archers of BG5 and BG6 unleashed everything they had onto the dragon, and Gods above, it honestly had to be one of the most incredible things that Zach had ever before witnessed. To say it inspired a hope deep within him would not be going far enough. For a brief moment, he actually began to wonder if maybe the entire raid would cruise to an easy, painless conclusion in mere seconds from now.

It all began with a chorus of soft snaps accompanied by a whistling, whining sound that permeated the air as dozens of arrows were fired and soared above Zach’s head on their way to the dragon. Most moved too fast or were too indistinct to be individually seen when set against the backdrop of the blue sky, but a few of the arrows appeared to be encased in ice, and these, Zach could discern. Having finally been given the order, the archers, more than three quarters of whom were Elvish, finally fired upon Ziragoth.

On the heels of these arrows, with a ruthlessness that almost made him pity the dragon, came an eye-popping, all-out barrage of magical attacks that filled the world with so many different sights, sounds, and colors that Zach could not possibly have taken them all in even if he’d tried his best to do so. It was almost like having five separate firework shows all being performed simultaneously. The things he saw in this moment, he knew, would become seared in his brain forever, as he now discovered the answer to a question he’d never even asked: what would happen if more than a hundred spellcasters all attacked the same target at the same time?

The answer was a lot: a whole damn lot. A second or two behind the arrows, the world lit up with magic. Some attacks were fired as projectiles, some simply appeared at or around the dragon, and there were even a few that consisted of summoned objects attacking multiple times. But all of it was wild, chaotic, and glorious.

There was ice: lots of ice. Some magic took the form of large, falling icicles, an attack Zach had seen before. But others consisted of giant, net-like dispersions of snow simply collapsing on top of Ziragoth. There were also spears of ice that flew off the wall and trailed behind the arrows, along with swords that looked created entirely of ice as well; each of them moved and struck on their own, slicing at Ziragoth from the gaps between the DPS where there was enough space for them to fit.

By far, however, the most impressive were the large, octagonal, and floating objects made up of strange red-and-black-colored ice that simply popped into existence above the dragon and began to light up and flash with a white light and the sound of a beep that came from within. This began slowly at first, but then these octagon-shaped objects flashed faster and faster until they were going on and off about fifty times a second as though they were lightbulbs connected to a faulty switch; this blinking continued to speed up relentlessly, as did the beeping, until finally, with one last, brilliant flash, they detonated like bombs—only without making a sound. Yet sound or no sound, the force of each noiseless blast was enough to create a cool gust of damp wind that Zach could actually feel from all the way over here, which he actually appreciated amid the quickly rising morning heat.

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There were a great number of other ice-based attacks that Zach could glimpse but not make sense of, as they were drowned out by other types of magic. Ice, it seemed, was far from the only thing sent Ziragoth’s way. The spellcasters were also attacking with earth, wind, lightning, dark, light, and a large number of other magical attacks that Zach couldn’t even place into any classification due to not knowing what they were.

Even as BG1 continued to strike out at the dragon, the ground beneath Ziragoth’s feet rumbled, and spike-shaped rocks burst up from the terrain and pierced its belly while tornado-like forces of wind enveloped its body. Black, ink-like balls of energy tore across the world as bolts of lightning struck down on the dragon. There were laser beams, too, and meteorites that slammed down on top of it. There were even things that looked like actual missiles that burst across the sky and made a sound similar to a fuse being lit before detonating against Ziragoth with a smoke-causing explosion and a tremendously loud bang.

There was so much: just so, so much. And yet, incredibly, none of it—not a single spell—managed to land against Ziragoth for a single point of damage, because the arrows fired by the archers, which arrived first, did so much damage so quickly that Ziragoth was reduced to half health even before the first magical attack could find its target.

Zach watched on in total silence as one of the ice arrows fired by one of the Elves struck Ziragoth right between the eyes, exploding into a cloud made of frost and smoke and hitting for 652,123 all on its own; this, while others struck between two- and three-hundred-thousand damage each. Put simply, the dragon was absolutely shredded. Its scales were ripped off its body, and blood was splattered all over BG1 as Ziragoth was pelted. The dragon roared in pain, losing HP so fast it was more like a flicker than a drop. In the blink of an eye, its HP simply vanished—halting at exactly half health.

HP

7,500,000/15,000,000

Name

(T7) Ziragoth the Awoken

Level

70

Two things then happened at the same time. The dragon collapsed forward, its head slamming down onto the grass-covered dirt hard enough to leave a small indentation in the ground. This, while all the magical attacks began to land, and each and every one hit for exactly 0 points of damage. One after the next, Zach watched with a cautious, hesitant optimism as the dragon lay still and unmoving as it was struck by so many different things at once it was practically rendered invisible as 0s began to pop up all around it. BG1 actually had to pull back just to avoid being caught in the crossfire—all except for the tanks, who continued to remain in place. But then they too moved away on orders from Donovan.

“BG1, get back! BG5, BG6: hold your fire. BG2: advance to within ten feet and encircle the boss. BG1, what is taking so long? Get back and rest. Now!”

Pulling away from the dead-looking dragon, whose body did not so much as twitch as it continued to lie completely motionless on the ground, BG1 retreated in the same moment that BG2 advanced, surrounding the fire wyvern on all sides. Clearly exhausted, Zach watched as a few members of BG1—in particular the tanks—removed their heavy-looking helms and began wiping sweat away from their faces. Several took a seat on the grass, and Londril dropped his shield, breathing heavily. It could not have been easy to absorb so many hits like that from something so powerful.

My Phase Shield only returns a tiny portion of the damage I take, and a hit from the dragon was enough to cause me to lose an arm and an eye.

As Zach continued to observe BG1 and BG2 from where he was standing together with Vim, Queen Vayra, and Peter Brayspark, he couldn’t help but feel a deep, steadily growing sense of uneasiness as he considered what would come next. Yet he tried to tamp down on it. They had so many powerful people here. How could they possibly lose? Sure, the dragon would become stronger, but the sheer number of them ensured they couldn’t possibly fall to a single enemy, no? Especially not based on what Zach had just seen BG5 and BG6 do. They’d dropped Ziragoth so fast that most of their attacks hadn’t even been able to land. It had only taken like two or three seconds!

So why does Mr. Oren look so nervous, then? Zach wondered, becoming agitated.

Right now, Mr. Oren was not inspiring a whole lot of confidence from the way he was frowning as he stared ahead at the dragon from where he stood beside Donovan. Zach became anxious as he watched Mr. Oren whisper something to Donovan off-Comm; though Zach could not overhear what was being said, Mr. Oren’s body language was speaking louder than any words. He was coming across as stiff and rigid, and his shoulders were clearly tense. Though he did not give off the far more troubling appearance of hopelessness he’d displayed yesterday—and later that same day in Angelica’s—there was unquestionably a lack of confidence in his current demeanor. But that all by itself wasn’t even why Zach was growing alarmed. No, not quite.

If Mr. Oren had been acting this way from the start of the raid, Zach would think nothing of it at all. But the fact that his frown had actually deepened almost as though it were a result of the fantastic display of power and might that had just been unleashed onto Ziragoth—that was what Zach found to be so troubling and also confusing. Especially because it made no sense at all. Had Mr. Oren and Zach witnessed two completely different things? Or did Mr. Oren really find what he’d just seen to be insufficient or something? Or maybe he was upset for an entirely different reason. Whatever the case, it did little to calm Zach’s nerves.

Zach just hoped the sense of gloom he was detecting from Mr. Oren wasn’t because he’d somehow found the incredible barrage against the dragon lacking. The spellcasters and archers had opened the gates of hell on the beast, previewing the sheer overwhelming might of their combined strength. Zach ardently hoped he was misreading things, because if that wasn’t going to be good enough to slay the boss, then Ziragoth might as well be immortal.

What’s going on with those two? Zach wondered, becoming even more skeptical as Mr. Oren and Donovan began to glare at one another as though they were bickering or having some kind of heated disagreement.

Trying his best not to let pessimism swallow him whole, Zach decided to chalk up Mr. Oren’s apparent trepidation to nothing more than common, ordinary battlefield jitters not worth reading into or drawing any conclusions about—or at least that was what he wanted to do. Instead, his suspicions only grew, because Mr. Oren and Donovan were beginning to openly argue loudly enough so that Zach could pick up just a few of their words—and he did not like what little of it he heard.

“Alex, you’re out of your fucking mind. We should revert back.”

“Donovan, please. Throwing more people at the dragon won’t make a difference if the differentials are too high.”

“Fuck!” he swore over the Comm, likely by accident. Zach could actually hear the sound of bodies turning to look at him. Yet rather than address the raid, he continued to speak to Mr. Oren off the Comm. But he did something else, as well: he began to turn his head Zach’s way, as did Mr. Oren.

“You really think that with Vim’s help, he’ll be able to…?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “If anything, we should accelerate the plan.”

Donovan scowled. “You better not be sending that kid to his death. I’m not fuckin’ around here.”

“I’m not. Just please, Donovan. Trust me on this. You’ll see for yourself soon enough that I’m right.”

Donovan looked away, but not before spitting out a wad of saliva that landed mere inches from one of Mr. Oren’s shoes. Once more facing the dragon, he folded his arms and waited for the wyvern to again rise, which Zach knew damn well it was going to do. He didn’t dare hope that this was the last they’d see of Ziragoth. But…how long was it going to take, anyway? It was just lying there like a dead, winged rat, albeit a really big one.

“What were they arguing about?” Vim Alazar asked. The Royal Roses’ guild leader curled his nose as though in disgust. “Now’s a really bad time to be keeping secrets from us, no?”

“I agree,” Sir Peter Brayspark said, narrowing his eyes. “Regardless, I have committed myself to this course of action. And until death robs me of life, I will give my all to fell this creature.”

“I concur,” Fylwen said, though she too glared skeptically at the two raid leaders. As she did so, she placed a hand on Zach’s left shoulder and squeezed. “Be brave,” she whispered to him again, as though she could sense the turmoil within.

“I really am trying,” he whispered back to her.

“I know you are.”

As another half a minute came and went, Zach could see his own restlessness reflected in everyone around him. It was downright uncomfortable to be standing around waiting for something to happen. His mind flooded with dread as he imagined all the possible things that could possibly come next. Gods, he just wanted this to be over with. He imagined the people watching this from all over North Bastia felt the same way as well. In the sky above, he could both see and hear the half-dozen helicopters that were broadcasting this live, letting the world witness events as they unfolded. Now that things had finally begun, he had to imagine that many of those viewing the broadcast were just as terrified as he himself was.

I need to be tough for them, he realized. For their sake, I have to keep it together.

Steadying himself, Zach continued to watch for some sign of what was to come. As though hypnotized, he could not take his eyes off Ziragoth’s seemingly dead, unmoving form. The wyvern did not so much as twitch. It simply continued to lie there with its head half buried in the soil while keeping still as a statue. After nearly a minute of keeping his eyes trained on the dragon, Zach began to wonder if this might be something that would take a long time to happen. Maybe it would take an entire day or a month or even longer. They just didn’t know, did they? He opened his mouth to voice the possibility, then shut it immediately thereafter.

Something happened: something changed.

It wasn’t what Zach had expected, but it was something nonetheless. Zach could hear those around him begin to shift and stir nervously as Ziragoth, while still perfectly still, seemed to lose his “name.”

Up until this very moment, “Ziragoth the Awoken” had been clearly visible above the dragon’s head. Now, however, there was nothing but emptiness in the spot in the air where the dragon's name had just been occupying.

“Everyone get ready!” Donovan warned over the Comm. “It looks like we’re about to start the next phase. BG2, get ready to taunt immediately as soon as it becomes targetable. BG5 and 6, like before, wait for aggro to be firmly established before attacking. BG1, rest up. BG 3, 4, and 7: watch for adds.”

Not long after the vanishing of its name, a lot more started happening, and Zach tightened his grip on his blade, ready to spring into action on a moment’s notice. Though he’d never had any real doubt that Ziragoth would come back for more, he still couldn’t help but swear under his breath as he witnessed the Gods-cursed dragon reanimate itself before his very eyes.

First, its entire body began to disintegrate. It took Zach a moment to realize this, because it began with a slight “peeling” of sorts as its skin started to fall off. Yet rather than float to the ground, it collapsed into smoke, as did its teeth and entire chunks of its torso. At the same time, a gigantic storm cloud appeared in the sky above them—one that definitely had not been there before, shrouding them all in a sudden, abrupt darkness. For some reason, this had the effect of causing more than two-hundred sets of eyes to all turn in his direction, including from many of those standing on top of—or in front of—the wall.

“What?” Zach asked into the Comm, genuinely confused. Then, realizing what was going on, he frowned. “What?” he asked again with a growl.

“Zach,” Mr. Oren said as an intense wind began to pick up and raindrops began to pour down on top of all of them, “you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with—”

“No,” he interrupted angrily. “Obviously I’m not responsible for this.” He shook his head. “Am I just going to be blamed from now on any time the sky turns randomly dark? Is that where we’re at now?”

“No need to be defensive, kiddo,” Donovan said. “We’re just making sure. Now quiet on Comms!”

Zach sighed. They were never going to let him live that down, were they? Just because he’d submerged the entire world in darkness one single time, he’d now be blamed—or at least suspected—any time something else did the same from then on, wouldn’t he? Fortunately, he didn’t think this would be a worldwide phenomenon, as this current stretch of darkness seemed localized, as obvious by the clear, sunny blue sky that was visible everywhere that was more than a few miles away from their current location.

Can’t believe they just blame me now for this shit.

More and more parts of Ziragoth began to fall off its body and convert into a dark, acrid smoke. The smell of ash and burnt flesh filled the entirety of this stretch of grasslands as the rain turned from a drizzle into an absolute downpour. It was now teeming, causing Zach to become drenched in a matter of seconds. This, as one of Ziragoth’s wings fell off, followed soon by the other. Before long, the entire wyvern had become transformed into nothing more than a massive, steadily thickening clump of dark smoke, which began to rise on the air.

At the same time, the ground began to shake, and the rain picked up even more. Zach hoped he was right about this being localized, because it was now raining harder than he’d ever seen from any storm in his entire life. If this was happening anywhere people lived, it would cause flash-flooding on an unthinkable scale. Yet Zach remained hopeful that the rain was confined to just this immediate area. He doubted that even the city of Shadowfall Coast, only a few miles behind them, was experiencing any of this weather.

The smoke, unfazed by the rain, continued to rise up higher and higher into the sky as though in opposition to it. It began to pulse and glow, as though an electrical storm was taking place mostly unseen in the middle of it. It also began to expand yet reform all at the same time, turning into something closer to a ball-shape, flashing more brightly and more visibly the higher it ventured. Now, the sound of thunder filled the world shortly following each flash as the sky darkened even further—though still nowhere to the extent of what Zach had caused. The ground also began to rumble more violently, too.

“Hey, Vim,” Zach said, having to speak somewhat loudly to be heard over the intense pitter-pattering of rain slamming down onto the grasslands.

“Yes, Zach?” he called out to him despite standing right by his side.

For no other reason than to break the tension, Zach asked, “Do you need me to describe to you what’s happening?”

“Hm?”

“You know, in case you can’t see it. Let me know if you need me to get you a stool or something.”

Vim rolled his eyes. “Really, Zach? Another height joke? Tell me, is the dragon causing the ground to shake or is that just you trembling so hard in fear that the rest of us can feel it?”

He laughed despite himself. “It might be, actually. I can’t lie. This is pretty terrif—”

Zach’s words ended in a shout—one that couldn’t even be heard as a totally unexpected, and deafeningly loud boom caused the world to shake so fiercely he momentarily lost his balance and had to assert his strength to keep his feet planted. Numerous people around him did fall, including a man near Kalana who she helped back to his feet.

At the exact same time as the ear-destroying boom, every last trace of darkness was chased away as an orange ball of fire that reminded Zach of the sun burned in the sky above them. No longer was there any smoke to be seen: now, what resided in the air was pure, utter flame, and it blasted them all with an intense heat that reminded him of his fight with the Elvish scouts on the way back to Galterra. He had to shield his eyes and grit his teeth as he felt his body temperature rising.

Even as the sound of the blast faded, it was replaced by the sound of a growl that seemed to come from everywhere around them. Simultaneously, the rain stopped, the large cloud vanished, and cracks began to form all over the ground as the terrain itself was split apart and craters began to appear all around them. Once more, Zach almost fell over as his right foot sank into the soil, putting him off balance.

“GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Little spots began to form all around the gigantic ball of flame—or at least Zach thought they did, as it was very difficult to look directly at it. Closing his eyes most of the way while cupping them as well, he could just make out what looked like little “bumps” all over the fireball. At first, there were just a few of these bumps, but then there were dozens. And before long, nearly a hundred of them could be seen: spots of something dark on the otherwise painfully bright ball of flame.

They’re not spots, he realized with a gasp that no one could hear over the cacophony of noise.

Zach didn’t know if he was jumping the gun, nor did he know if he was stepping out of line in making such assumptions—yet for some reason, he strongly believed he knew what those black “spots” on the fireball were. Though it was incredibly difficult to tell due to the brightness of the flame, he was positive that they were moving—wiggling, even. And so, even at the risk of being wrong and humiliating himself, he cried out in warning to the raid.

“Adds!” he shouted into his comm. “More than a hundred!”

“Are you sure?” Mr. Oren asked. “Where?”

“Adds?” Donovan asked, repeating the word. “What do you mean, kiddo?”

“Those spots on the fire. They’re…just look at them! They’re moving.”

There was a brief pause followed by a loud, alarmed cry of warning from numerous raid members as they seemed to agree with Zach’s take on things. “That’s…that’s a great deal of them,” Mr. Oren’s voice said through the Comm. He did not sound happy.

“Isn’t that why you had BG3 and BG4 stay back?” Kalana asked, now herself sounding worried. “‘Cause you were worried this might happen?”

“That’s right, Kalana. But this is…this is much, much more than I expected to deal with at one time,” Mr. Oren said. “Donovan…”

There was a brief pause—one that was followed by an angry, loud grunt. “BG1, BG2: pull back immediately and move to assist BG3 and BG4 with the adds. BG7, engage the dragon as soon as it reforms and becomes attackable.”

If not for Fylwen tightening her grip on him, Zach would have finally collapsed. “W-what?” he asked. “Already? But I thought the plan—”

“Plan’s changed,” Donovan grunted. “Be ready to engage, you four.”

Zach felt the breath leave his lungs and his heart begin hammering in his chest. This was too soon. This wasn’t supposed to be how things went. Why were they asking him to do this? Why now at the very beginning of the fight? Weren’t they supposed to wait? What the fuck was going on? Panicked, Zach watched as more than a hundred black, inky-looking blots popped out of the ball of flame and began pouring down all over the battlefield like sizzling, steaming, and hugely oversized droplets of slimy, putty-like rain.

This wasn’t…this wasn’t the plan!