Derek was wrapping up his cleaning when the doorbell chimed. Marie answered, allowing him a few extra moments. By the time he reached the living room, the bell rang once more, signaling another arrival.
“Hey, Derek.” greeted Jim from two houses down, his usually jovial face now etched with lines of concern. He stepped inside, followed by his wife, Helen, both pausing as they were greeted by the enticing aroma of chili and red beans.
Derek offered a weary smile. “Glad you could make it, Jim, Helen. Make yourselves at home.”
As more neighbors trickled in, the living room filled with a mix of apprehension and the need for communal support. Only about half of the neighborhood had shown up, each person carrying their own tale of survival and loss.
One of the neighbors approached, her name was May if he recalled correctly. “Do you want me to take a look at your injury, Steve mentioned that you were stabbed. I’m a nurse.”
“No, I’m fine, it’s already healed.” Derek smiled kindly at her offer. “Thank you.”
She nodded and moved off to talk to someone else, Derek overheard snippets of conversations as he moved through the crowd. “Have you heard from the Thompsons?” “I saw the monster at the Miller’s last night.” The air was thick with speculation and shared worry.
About half of the people in the neighborhood came, each quietly sharing concerns - about who was safe, who wasn’t, and who might be missing. Derek realized his neighbors knew each other’s daily routines and whereabouts very well.
He noticed Mrs. Peters, an older neighbor, holding her hands tightly together. "Derek, dear, do you know if the Greens are alright? Their house has been dark since yesterday,"
Derek shook his head. "I haven’t heard anything, Mrs. Peters. But I’m sure they’re trying their best, like all of us." Her eyes filled with tears, but she seemed comforted by his words.
"Thank you, Derek. It’s nice to be with friends," Mrs. Peters said, her voice stronger as she looked around. The others, hearing them, gave her kind smiles, showing a silent understanding among everyone in these tough times.
Derek saw how the mood in the room got better when new people arrived. The conversations became more lively, showing that people felt reassured being together. The living room had become a busy place, filled with a quiet, strong spirit.
Jim’s firm handshake with another neighbor was a silent promise of support. Helen, who had been nervous at first, was now talking with a group about their families. Everyone was tense, but there was a growing feeling of togetherness and determination.
The meal brought a fleeting sense of normality amid the chaos. Neighbors passed dishes around, fostering a comforting sense of community. The aroma of chili and red beans wafted from the kitchen, offering a brief respite from the day’s stresses.
However, this momentary calm was abruptly shattered. Derek’s sharp senses caught the faint hum of an approaching vehicle, growing louder and louder, until a blaring horn disrupted the tranquility. He turned to the window, a sinking feeling in his gut, and saw a familiar car tear into the driveway, skidding to a halt just before colliding with other parked vehicles. It was Phil’s car, and he wasn’t alone.
“Oh fuck. Phil!” Derek exclaimed, his voice tense with urgency. “Babe, get the rifle!”
Derek leaped from his chair, causing it to topple over. He quickly moved from the bright, cozy interior of the house to the dark, uncertain outdoors. In an instant, he transformed from a friendly neighbor to a focused, seasoned fighter.
He burst through the door just as Phil, gripped by panic, scrambled out of his car. The unfolding scene confirmed Derek’s swift shift into combat mode. Phil’s wide-eyed gaze was fixed on the driveway where a horde of goblins, orcs, and unfamiliar beasts swarmed, their savage forms advancing rapidly.
“Get inside, Phil! Hurry!” Derek shouted, his command slicing through the chaos.
Phil’s face drained of color as he confronted the horde, shock and fear paralyzing him momentarily. Surrounding shouts of urgency jolted him into action, and he darted into the house with a swift backward glance.
Derek retrieved his pry bar from his storage bracelet and moved to the lawn, where he had space to maneuver. Bracing himself, he faced the disorganized horde. Their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm, but their lack of coordination offered him a tactical advantage. With practiced precision, Derek swiftly neutralized the nearest goblins. As orcs and trolls joined the fray, he adapted his tactics, focusing on evasion and exploiting their chaotic assault.
Derek’s response was immediate and efficient. His strikes were swift and deadly. As the swarm grew, he adjusted his footing, preparing for the intensifying battle. Each motion was calculated; the pry bar sliced through the air, targeting weak points with lethal accuracy. The crowd now included orcs and trolls, adding to the goblins’ ranks. Derek’s eyes darted between foes, quickly adjusting his strategy to counter each new threat. He spun, using the momentum to extend his weapon’s reach, keeping enemies at bay. Skillfully, he maneuvered around the yard, using trees and scattered debris to funnel the horde, creating openings for strategic attacks and brief respites.
Spears whistled through the air, creating a symphony of danger as they pierced his skin and clothes, each one a sharp reminder of his mortality. He couldn’t stop every blow, but he kept moving, avoiding bodies and maintaining balance. His brutal dance betrayed a lack of formal training.
Derek’s tactical evasion kept fatal blows at bay. Calculated pivots and rolls turned potential lethal stabs into mere grazes. Club-wielding brutes grew reckless in their swings, frustrated by their inability to land a solid hit. As Derek danced through the melee, his stamina waned, each superficial cut marking his resilience and the relentless toll of battle.
While goblins fell easily, orcs required calculated effort. Derek exploited their blind rage, outmaneuvering them. The trolls, however, were relentless. No matter how much damage he inflicted, they kept coming. Broken joints and limbs were minor hindrances to them.
Derek carved through the horde, his bar slicing through the air as he pushed his abilities to their limits. Enhanced by his physical stats, his physique, strength, and agility peaked. He wished he had allocated more points to his physical stats, but it was too late for that.
On the deck, Phil and Marie prepared their rifles. Marie, skilled with Derek’s AR-15, started shooting rapidly, creating openings in the crowd of monsters for Derek. Phil, initially hesitant, began shooting carefully and accurately. Though less skilled than Marie, he improved as the fight continued, his confidence growing with each shot. Together, they formed a wall of gunfire, protecting Derek as he fought in the yard. Their teamwork became a strong defense amid the chaos.
The battle raged on, transforming the yard into chaotic violence. Derek pushed his body to it’s physical limits driven by sheer desperation and primal instinct. His heart thundered in his chest and the roaring the monsters, cracking of gunfire, and smell of blood drove him forward. If he died here, then everyone in the neighborhood would soon follow.
Every move was a fight for survival. His weapon felt like an extension of his weary arms, each hit sending shockwaves through his body. He kept moving and fighting, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming enemy.
“The trolls!” Phil shouted. “They regenerate!”
Realizing this, Derek changed his strategy. Instead of inflicting damage, he aimed to incapacitate them. It didn't matter how much pain he caused to the trolls, they didn't stay down. He broke a knee, but they were back up after only a few dozen seconds.
The battle continued with intense ferocity, each clash of Derek’s pry bar against the horde echoing in the light rain. Despite his enhanced strength, the constant barrage left him with stinging cuts and bruises. His breathing grew heavier, a sign of his waning energy amidst the relentless onslaught.
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Marie’s scream momentarily pierced the tumult, a warning that came just as a crushing blow struck Derek’s back. Hurled forward, he crashed through goblins and orcs, until colliding with a troll with such force that it toppled. Agony surged through him as he was violently shoved away, pain radiating from his right arm and torso, suggesting serious injuries. His breathing became labored amidst the chaos of the attacking horde.
Marie, consumed by panic and fear, the sight of Derek in peril jolted her from her paralysis, igniting a desperate need to act. She felt a surge of frantic energy as she unloaded her rifle. Each bullet released was pure despiration as she tried to keep the horde off her fallen husband. Her eyes wide were with the terror of losing everything she held dear. Her efforts were frantic, her mind fixated on protecting Derek. But as her weapon clicked empty, she realized the horde was relentless. Where one fell, another was there to take its place, each tearing at Derek’s fallen body with vicious savagery.
At that moment, Marie’s world narrowed to the horrific scene before her. The acrid scent of gunpowder and the iron tang of blood filling the air, contrasting with the lingering aroma of chili from the kitchen. The taste of fear, almost metallic, settled on her tongue. She didn’t want this. She hated this relentless violence. She yearned for the peaceful life they once known. Their new reality was a stark contrast to the peaceful life they once cherished. Her despair deepened, an unexpected surge of energy welled up within her. It was her magic, responding not just to her will, but to the raw surge of emotions overwhelming her. Her fear for Derek’s life, desperation to save him, and a deep-seated loathing for the violence that had invaded their lives.
Her strong emotions powered Marie’s magic, and it naturally flowed towards Derek. It was stronger and more focused than any magic she had used before. Wanting to protect Derek, she used this energy to create a shield around him. A bright blue light came from her and spread out to cover him, forming a protective bubble. This magical shield kept him safe from the goblins’ claws, the orcs’ spears, and the trolls’ clubs.
Marie, standing with her rifle now useless in her hands, felt the drain of channeling such powerful magic. Marie’s arms vibrated with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion, her skin prickling with tension. Each gasping breath she drew was sharp against her lungs, her fingers numb yet tightly gripping her rifle, but she held onto the spell with unwavering determination. The sight of Derek lying vulnerable on the ground, now shielded by her magic, steeled her resolve. This was more than a fight for survival; it was a stand against the chaos threatening to consume everything they cherished.
He lost his weapon and looked up to the deck, where he met Marie’s eyes. Time seemed to slow as they looked into each other’s eyes. Her eyes glowed with soft brown energy, but the grief was obvious. She felt his pain as she looked back. Derek felt the rage bubbling up through the agony. His body rebelled at him in every way possible as he tore his gaze away from her.
Lying battered on the ground, Derek felt a deep-seated rage ignite within him. This was more than just anger; it was a primal force, awakening the sleeping Ravager ability. As he tapped into the latent power, a surge of energy erupted within him. It felt like a storm being unleashed in his very bones, the magic intertwining with his raw fury. He let out a guttural scream, a sound mixed with pain and unbridled wrath. The surrounding air seemed to crackle as the Ravager’s energy infused his body, transforming his battered form into a conduit of destructive power.
He became a ravager, The Ravager. A destroyer. His body forced itself back into formation, not healed, but reinforced by the magic. Despite the pain, a feeling of invincibility over took him.
The power energized every cell in his body. His muscles tightened, growing stronger from this new power. As he stood up, the magic made him feel like a mighty warrior ready for battle.
With a roar of pain and rage, Derek’s body shot forward. He crushed a goblin’s skull with his fist. Shattered an orc’s elbow while ripping its club from grip. With a weapon, he destroyed. There was no hesitation. There was no sense of self-preservation. This newfound strength was not without its toll. As Derek embraced the Ravager, he felt an unfamiliar weight on his psyche, a primal surge that pushed his tactical thinking to its limits. He was more than just a fighter now; he was a force unleashed upon the horde, a manifestation of raw, directed fury.
Every move and attack Derek made got more accurate and powerful. The Ravager energy did more than just strengthen his body; it turned his intense focus into a weapon. Although he got hurt, the magic numbed it, keeping his body in once piece, and the pain only made him more determined.
Empowered by Ravager, Derek became a whirlwind of destruction. He moved through the horde with lethality, his fists an extension of his newfound might. Each strike was precise and devastating, felling monsters with a single, crushing blow. The trolls, previously an indomitable force, now fell before him, their regenerative abilities no match for the fury of his assault as he pounded their skulls into paste with his fists.
As Derek methodically dispatched his adversaries, on the outside Derek looked like he was consumed by madness. He moved from monster to monster, destroying them in the most gruesome, violent way possible. As the once dense horde thinned, orcs and trolls fell under his relentless pursuit added to a growing space around him, a small zone of control he carved out in the chaos. His movements were more about brute force and less about precision and timing, a testament to his madness. Every swing of his fist ended lives. A lucky orc hit him, knocking Derek into another monster, but it didn’t even slow him as Derek unleashed every primal instinct, his pain, and rage on those that stood before him. While Ravager was active it felt like nothing could kill him. Derek slaughtered every monster within reach. The full might of his fury turned an orc’s chest into mush.
Derek found his pry bar on the ground and picked it up. He willingly received a blow from a goblin’s club to secure the weapon. Derek raised his bar with a tired sway and took a troll’s feet out from under it. A troll’s club came down to crush his shoulder. Instead of avoiding it, Derek took the overhead cleave on the shoulder with a violent smile on his lips. He brought his bar around in a full rotation to build the momentum needed and slammed the heavy end of the bar into the troll’s head, ending the bastard’s life in a spray of bone and brain matter.
And then Ravager suddenly faded, leaving Derek feeling weak. With the agony of an abused body, an unsteady sway returned. Examining the remains of the horde; most of the trolls were dead, a few orcs, and dozen goblins remained. Derek lifted the bar as a goblin impaled itself.
He wasn’t superman and didn’t have limitless stamina. Derek ducked under a horizontal swing, but he kept going hitting the ground with a heavy thud. His body spent.
“Derek!” Marie screamed from the deck.
Derek struggled, fighting a losing battle against the pain. The exhaustion crept over him even as the adrenaline fought to keep it at bay, leaving him acutely aware of his fatigue and injuries. His surroundings – the bloodied grass, the still forms of the fallen horde – blurred into a haze. Derek’s hands trembled as he placed them on the ground for support, but even this effort proved too much. He collapsed onto his back, his gaze fixed on the sky above as consciousness slipped away. The chaos of battle gave way to the stillness of exhaustion, and Derek lay there, sprawled on the blood-soaked ground, surrendering to the darkness that enveloped him.
Marie knew they needed magic right now. Feeling tired, she reached for the magic inside her, which she was getting to know well. She focused hard because the situation was urgent. She thought about her recent practice with magic spells. With a lot of concentration, she used her remaining magic to make the protective spell she had learned before. Remembering how it worked the first time gave her more confidence. Even though she was very tired, she was determined to protect Derek. She used all her energy to create a shield around him.
Phil’s released a repeated sharp, staccato bursts of rifle fire from the deck pierced the evening air, overlaying the guttural roars of the horde with a rhythm of desperate defiance. Rounds splashed all over the deck with clinks of brass hitting pressure-treated wood. The high-powered hunting rifle exploded a troll’s head in a lucky shot. Marie’s rifle joined Phil’s as they slowly wiped out the last of the enemies. With Derek down, their attention now turned toward them. The last troll was the most significant threat, even as Marie sent a well-aimed shot into its head, the bullet bounced off the skull only leaving a blood gash that soon healed.
A shot from the higher caliber rifle ended her worries, leaving only the goblins for which she had plentiful practice. She mowed them down and exchanged spent magazines with oiled precision.
With the last of the monsters falling, the gunfire ceased, leaving a heavy, oppressive silence in its wake. Marie, drained of both magical and physical strength, slumped to the deck, her body echoing the weariness of her spirit. The rifle, now a redundant tool of a bygone battle, dangled limply from her fingers.
Phil, who had stood beside Marie through the gunfire, now looked out over the remnants of the battle with a pained expression. He didn't think this would happen. He didn't know what to do, so he had followed Derek's instructions. The horde had managed to follow him. He hadn't been thinking, his only goal had been to get here, but now, he wasn't sure that was wise. He had likely killed his friend, a man married with a kid on the way. Derek had selflessly put himself between Phil and a horde of monsters out for their blood. This entire situation was his fault and he could feel it now. He had even tried to fix it with his participation in the battle, but his guilt and discomfort was palpable.
The yard, transformed into a scene of devastation, was a stark contrast to the peaceful neighborhood. Phil's gaze was not that of a warrior surveying a battlefield, but of a man forced into conflict, yearning for the return of peace and normalcy. It hadn't even been that long and he already missed the first world problems.
“Marie, are you alright?” he asked, noting her fatigue.
Marie nodded weakly. “I’m... just exhausted,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The magical effort she had exerted to protect Derek had drained her, leaving her trembling and nearly immobile. “We need to check on Derek,” she said, concern evident in her voice despite her physical weakness.
Phil noticed her struggle. “I’ll go get him,” he said decisively, his concern for both of them evident.