“Everyone know their roles?” I ask the party after our brief planning session.

“We stay next to Gene,” says Noth. The frustration with the plan is evident in her tone.

“This is a garbage plan. It’s not even a plan,” voices Cher. Her dominant arms are folded, and the other four are tensely draped down her back.

“At least let Fen or me fight with you.”

“Executing poor plans is my specialty. Which is why, Apper, you and Fen can’t fight by my side.”

“Stabbing things doesn’t count as a plan. It doesn’t even qualify as a poor plan. At least let us give it more thought. We could devise something clever and wipe out the demons effectively.” Noth’s frustration is less biting as she tries to be a voice of reason.

“No.” This time I’m not the one that has to shut down the voice. Gene is about to speak up, but Fen beats her to it. “Li is right. We are a liability right now. No clever plan will stop us from being such. We thought our plan to trap the fliers was flawless, and look where that got us. We will let Li do what he does best and stay out of the way.”

Though I appreciate the implications of Fen’s support, especially since she has yet to speak or address me, the implications of her words fester in my mind. Is this really what I do best? Maybe that’s not what she meant.

“It’s a bad plan,” Gene says. “But as Fen said, Li is good at bad plans.”

“Again, stabbing things doesn’t count as a plan. If Li wants to stab demons on a solo quest, sure. He can go lone wolf all he wants.” Noth’s hand gestures at me and then points at the valley below. “That doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t have a plan and will be greatly outnumbered.”

“If I add shadow stepping to the stabbing, does that make it more of a plan?” Before I can get more words out, my chest begins thumping rapidly. My bumping heart becomes an accompanying beat to the awakened sounds of nature.

Hearing the beating in my chest, Gene gives me a worried look. The terror in her expression grows with the growing beat of my core. Noth and Fen share a confused, anxious look with each other. Apper and Cher, not quite sure of the source, begin scanning our surroundings.

“We are out of time.” I barely get the words out. The dungeon core gushes out swirls of shadow, death, life, and light. Vivid colors of mana, from the light blue of water to the dark red of fire, cover our encampment. The awakened forest is silenced by the influx of power. The beating is no longer coming from my chest; the sound is projecting out of the expanding mana mist. And then, like the forest, the beat goes silent.

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“Bones enters the scene.” The voice is smooth and deep, like a voice you’d imagine hearing from the heavens. The ridiculous announcement echoes off the trees and the distant mountains. “...and crew. We’re back!”

Thick, energetic shadow dances wildly, forming into little lycans ranging in size from waist-high to the same size as me. Confusion runs rampant as more children fill the limited space on our hillside camp. A giant of a man-beast is the next to appear. The dark, scaled, dragon-faced man towers over the children protectively. His wings are extended from his back, and his aura is dark.

Immediately after Fury’s appearance, Annette appears. The slender arachnoid looks queenlier than ever, and even though her size is dwarfed by Fury, she doesn’t seem inferior in any way. Instantly, I can feel my mind connecting to hers and everyone on the hill. The mental chatter should be chaos with so many minds. Instead, it’s peaceful and controlled.

Usurping expectations or living up to his standards, Bones doesn’t emerge like the others. Instead of forming from the shadow like the rest, our encampment is swarmed by death as dozens of the dead demons awaken to a new life. In unison, the demons rise from the ground and surround us with their backs facing us.

“Bones, Bones, Bones.” The demons start chanting. Even the demonic beasts that don’t speak participate in the egotistical chant. When it can’t get any worse, the children also begin chanting. “Bones! Bones! Bones! Bones!”

No way is this real. Leave it to Bones to turn the dungeon into a cult. I’m encompassed by doubt and disbelief when Fury turns the night to blackness. The chanting only gets louder and faster in pace. Fury flashes his night spell on and off; how the dragon or anyone other than the dead was convinced to play along with the theatrics is beyond me. Then the unbelievable happens. Annette bows her head and raises her fist high into the night sky.

By the time the chanting has reached its crescendo, all the dead demons and dungeon bound have their fists raised high into the air. Even Apper and Cher, who I know are not a part of this, have joined the cause.

“Ladies, dragon, demons, children, and gentlemen,” the deep voice announces, drowning out the chanting. “Witness the glory of the dawn of The Rising Fist!”

Yup, this isn’t real. It’s not happening. I’m still in the desert eating cacti and scorpions. Probably poisoned from eating the wrong type of cactus. Now the poison is taking me on one extensive lousy trip. Maybe I’m not even in the desert. This is definitely a dream.

“Do not doubt.” Damn, the spider is feeding Bones my thoughts. “This is better than a dream. This is an effing nightmare! — granted, it’s edited… for the children… damn it, Annette, stop feeding me direct thoughts. You’re ruining the script. Oh hell, forget it. Fury — Lights! Jack — make me shine!”

Amidst the darkness in the center of all the lycan children, Bones finally appears. One light shines on his skeletal frame. The skeleton is bulkier than ever. His four arms look like madness when they are draped by his sides. On his back is a pair of wings that look smaller than Fury’s.

Bones rises in the air with a flap, a pair of fists raised high. The light follows his dramatic ascension. His boney frame is covered in dark dragon scales; the only part of his body that shows any hint of bones is his face. Even that is covered mainly by a pale gray beard and hair.

“Demons, goblins, bugbears, kobolds, and others, be warned. Our fists will never fall!” The challenge shakes the hillside; I can feel the words shake my soul.

It takes active thinking to not let my fist join in the ridiculous scene, but then I see all the children smiling and soaking up the display; even Gene is participating. One of her arms tightly embraces one of the older lycans; the other is punching rhythmically in the air. I abandon any hesitation and join my fist with theirs. A fierce yell from all completes the scene sealing the vow of The Rising Fist.