By ourselves once again, Zan thought to himself, as it was back to, he, Jiehong, Whiskey, and Whiskey's Scouts, Pim and Who-else. Zan wished against luck to not run into trouble...

He had been checking his Status window more lately. It was an informational part of his so-called 'Heads-up-Display,' which displayed health, energy, and magical use information about his allies. Everyone was running on rusty steam. Zan knew they had to get out from this battle and fast.

Coming up on gods-blessingly-few automotrons as Zan and Company (plus Viceroy in tow) blazed a path through the back passages where they had come. Consulting his map-in-miniature every few seconds, Zan ran at full speed and he, at times, dragged the viceroy by the arm; behind or ahead, Zan didn't care where he shoved the viceroy as he and his friends sped through the halls at a breakneck speed, sometimes nearly overshooting their path.

'Need water,' Zan said, more as a prayer than a statement.

"Okay. We're here!" Zan said, gasping for breath as they finally came to a stop before the rotating platform of the siege engine elevator which... Zan had thought they deactivated on the way in because the golems operating it had been 'decommed.' Or 'Decommissioned.'

Looking at the ground below, Zan and Company saw a large host of golems. How long had it taken them to assemble like so?

"They're nearly ready to storm!" Whiskey said.

What were they to do? Zan wondered. His brain turned volcanic while he thought of a solution, ideas bubbled in his head, thesis rising like hot air, only to burst and give rise to air-cooled ideas of pure magma-gold.

"How's this?" Zan said, abruptly, his idea ready to be shared. "We lay down and die?"

"So dramatic," Jiehong said, rolling his eyes.

"Well -- I'm fecking sorry, Jie! I don't know what to do when my companions ask such obvious questions. We fight our way through -- duh! How about we lob our remaining grenades at them and then use our smoke grenades to mask our push. We lay the hurt on, put out more smoke, then run like devils to wherever has the least number of golems?!"

"You know, Zan?! WHATEVER!" Jiehong screamed back as he and Zan tossed their final explosives.

"Save it for later, boys!" Whiskey yelled. "Firing final arrows now," Whiskey said. How many arrows did she have? Zan would have to find out later.

Zan and the rest stepped on the moving platform leading down. All except Jiehong.

"You coming?" Whiskey asked.

"I have a different plan! I am feeling it in my bones. I have to do this!" Jiehong said.

By now, Zan was feeling worried for Jiehong. "What are you doing?" he yelled.

Jiehong stood his ground, hunched over, his fists in a ball. He was groaning. Screaming? He looked to be gathering himself or energy; of course, it couldn't be magic since the Slipstream had long since faded. Jiehong continued to pump himself up. Then, before anyone could say anything, got a running head start and leaped from the villa wall straight forward into the enemy.

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As the platform descended, and while Jiehong leaped, Zan saw Jiehong's stomach glow with the radiance he had felt in himself during the labor camp raid. He saw a powerful light shine from Jiehong's belly, so he knew his crystal-entity must be worked up to oblivion and back. Before the platform was even half-way down, Jiehong smashed into the enemy and made them suffer. His body sent shockwaves through the field, sending up tufts and gouges of matter as rock and ground shifted from its forever home.

"Darn-crap!" Whiskey swore indistinctly.

Zan saw what she meant. Jiehong's assault was beyond compare. Zan watched as Jiehong used the deeper magic of the crystal-entity to his advantage. When he flung his axe, the curve of magic allowed it to act as a boomerang. Off, it went, twirling and spinning through the air chopping at automotrons like they were mud cakes. Normally, Zan would have been tempted to say something like, 'save some for me!' or 'I can't let you have all the fun!' Considering how tired he was and how he did not care about who dealt with the invaders, he let Jiehong have at it. When he and Whiskey and the Scouts reached the ground, they stepped off the platform only for Zan to say, "Better leave him be. We would only be in the way..."

Looking at Jiehong as his brutal combat brought the enemy mass to heel, Zan would have been comfortable in letting his friend overpower himself on his implanted crystal-entity. He remembered the power he felt back during the labor camp raid. It felt incredible. Like pure power... Jiehong deserved to feel such power; if nothing else, it would give him an idea of what he should work toward. And Zan was tired. So, why not let Jiehong go at it while he caught his breath? He was nearly done anyway.

Watching Jiehong lay the enemy to waste, Zan reassured the noble he was in good hands and how they were nearly free of the battle.

"Once Jiehong clears us a path, where do we go?" Zan asked Whiskey while also consulting his map.

Zan had the route they had taken from the camp to the villa. He figured they could return the way they had come. But with the chaos in full flow, he wanted to get his team's opinion on it. Gazing across the lands outside the villa, he saw only smoldering wreckage. Destroyed, burned golems. He heard the far away cackle of battle, of blade on oak. Winters must be joining battle with the enemy near the front gate.

'Wait...' Zan said to himself. 'If Winters is battling the enemy at the front gates, then who is at our back?'

Zan asked himself this while Whiskey picked up on the same element Zan picked up on: "I do not know, Zan. Are my eyes deceiving me or are those automotrons blocking our route?"

"I thought I saw that, too!" Zan said. "Let me look through my lens real quick."

Pulling out his lens and unfurling it, Zan took a look. What he saw was unmistakable. Golems.

And a lot of them.

"How, who?" Zan sputtered.

"Okay... this effects more than us," Whiskey said. "That is our entire camp. If the enemy has occupied it, now what?"

Swearing like a sailor, Zan wished he had another echo-beetle. Wait... did he?

Attempting to gather his focus and pop out another beetle, Zan tried and failed. When his physicality failed, he tried mental conditioning. That failed too. All options except for asking drained, Zan said, "Echo-beetle: go to Colonel Winters!"

The System said nothing except "Redirecting Jiehong Bettle."

'Okay. That's something, anyway,' Zan said.

Giving Whiskey an update, Zan said, "I've redirected Jiehong's beetle to Colonel Winters. Once it makes contact with him we can let him know of the situation. I am going to guess this, though -- we need to run!"

"Jiehong! Jiehong!" Zan yelled. He had to get his buddy's attention. Help pull him out of this 'Shining' mode, as one of the Wardens had called Zan's state when he was experiencing what Jiehong was going through now. Zan knew nothing about the condition of 'Shining,' though, so he had little prospects for actually helping his friend.

"He's not listening. Battle lust had ensnared him," Whiskey said.

"Maybe he is just not listening to us...?" Zan wondered aloud, hoping Jiehong's extreme state was not going to present problems for them.

"Whiskey. I am going to redirect your beetle as well. Then when it's by Jiehong's ear, I will yell into it. If that doesn't get his attention, then nothing will!"

"ZAN!" Whiskey said. "He is with the battle fury! Nothing we saw will change his--"

Whiskey couldn't finish her words.

Over the ridge, just before the gentle hill leading to the allied encampment now overrun, emerged a figure.