Mandrin barely escaped being right in the middle of the blast as everyone but Zel ducked down to avoid the flying debris. Zel stood guard, his sword flying, to deflect the shards.

Korrich only leaned down for half a second when he stood to calm the people. The crowd didn’t panic, but they seethed with worry over Korrich. When he stood, two shots rang out from the buildings surrounding the podium. Zel could barely see both blasts zooming toward Korrich’s head. Time seemed still as he drew power from his blade and jumped in front of the shots. The first he deflected easily. The second, right behind the first, he caught with a downward swing of his sword, knocking it off target as it came within a breath of Korrich’s chest.

All this seemed but the wind to Korrich as a dozen other shots rang out. He watched in awe as Zel’s sword moved like golden lightning. The firing lasted seconds, but seemed like forever when Zel’s shoulder erupted in blood. Ignoring the pain, the Prophet stepped into the path of another shot, taking it in the stomach as he swiped down the last three with his sword.

Korrich gaped as Zel turned around. He only had enough time to briefly see the Prophet’s wounds as Mandrin took all of his attention.

“Hunter, hunter, hunter! Go now!” Mandrin shouted into a black box hidden in his shirt sleeve. In his other hand, he raised a pistol at Korrich. The guard wasn’t even able to get his finger on the trigger before Zel knocked the gun out of his hand.

“Traitor!” Korrich said as Zel leveled his sword at Mandrin. The other guards, those who hadn’t gone to check the buildings, came and surrounded Korrich, leveling guns on Mandrin. Mandrin gulped as Zel held the man with the point of his blade. “I should—”

“The people, Korrich,” Zel said.

Korrich, being a genuine leader, realized he could have a riot if he didn’t handle things. He turned back to the amplifier with a calming resolve. As he did, Zel could faintly hear the thud, thud, thud of helicopters. He hadn’t expected this.

Silen grabbed Mandrin by the arm and twisted it upwards. Zel heard a pop as the man screeched in pain. “I’ll hold the traitor, Il. Take care of the people,” she said as Mandrin looked even more afraid.

“Cawns, don’t worry. I am unharmed. The attack was—” Korrich tried, but he couldn’t finish his sentence as a blast of wind came over him.

Three helicopters came to a hover fifty feet above the now stunned crowd. As they leveled, two dropped armed men on ropes. The other one had a side door that opened to reveal a man standing behind a ten-shot Rapid Gun, a long belt of ammunition spilling outside the aircraft.

Mandrin kicked the shocked Silen and she fell off the platform. Zel had no time to think, and jumped in front of Korrich, kicking the amplifier out of his way and landing right before the rain of shots roared.

The shots tinged and cracked as Zel’s golden sword deflected them all harmlessly into the sky. Zel had to concentrate on maintaining the strength to hold himself in the right position. Luckily, Korrich stayed still, else the path of the shots would have been harder to block. As each shot hit, Zel felt a twinge of pain, quickly forgotten with the next. Worse was the pain of seeing the Grichian soldiers on the ground slaughtering the crowd in their path to the podium. The rest of the guards ran to engage the ballistic-armor-clad intruders. The Cawns were hopelessly outgunned.

In the deafening blasts and clangs and shouts of pain, Zel found one particular sound behind his back: the clicking of a safety going off. He turned and dove to the side and knocked Korrich to the ground with the blunt side of his sword. The man went down harmlessly, and the would-be killer shot from Mandrin hit Zel in the side. As Zel went down and turned to stop the oncoming rapid shots yet again, shots erupted along the wooden platform, sending shards of exploding planks into the air as the gunner repositioned. And as he turned, Zel saw Mandrin go down under the shots from the helicopter.

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The crowd around him ran away, some fighting back but most fleeing the guns and clasps of the Grichian attackers, fearful of prison and death.

Zel had little time before he’d have to deal with the men on the ground. So he mustered all his might and tilted the angle of his sword, his iron-hard arms rippling with the effort. He deflected the shots back to their source, and riddled the helicopter with holes. The gunner shuddered as a dozen shots flew back into him, and he fell limp in his harness as the helicopter began spewing smoke. Like a ruined bird, its rudders stopped and it fell toward the crowd.

Zel moved as fast as he could. Ignoring the ever-closing shots from the attackers, he jumped off the platform and put all his energy into a swing of his blade. He struck nothing, but the move launched a shockwave of energy that flew into the crowd and sent them flying twenty feet further away just as the helicopter landed where they’d been standing. It exploded on impact, and Zel flew back and crashed into the platform, finishing the job the bomb and shots had started and demolishing the structure.

Zel shook off the injuries and saw Korrich lying unconscious a few feet away, underneath planks of wood with blood draining out of him. Eight men headed toward him, with another six coming from the other side. Zel’d had enough of this. He made another great swing of his sword, not as powerful as the last, but the golden wave was enough to knock the attackers off their feet. He did the same with the other six as they flew into the wall of the store behind, a couple breaking through the large windows with shattered glass falling all over them.

Zel jumped on top of the first group, and deftly, not an expression on his face, swung small waves of energy that knocked half the men completely unconscious. One at Zel’s feet raised his gun and attempted to fire. Zel, turning from his last blast, cleanly cut the man’s hand off. He lay screaming as Zel faced the other three. Two opened fire and Zel reflected the shots back at them. They fell as the last opened fire, and Zel heard the other helicopters come closer.

Zel did the same with this man, armor-piercing shots breaking back through the one who fired them. As he died, the man fired one last shot. Zel saw it heading toward his head. Instead of dodging it, he stepped to the side and, like a swing from a club, struck the bullet and redirected it at the man coming up behind him, dropping him with a blank surprise on his face.

Zel scanned the area, dripping blood, and saw no more attackers on their feet. All he could hear was the roar of the two helicopters flying away. From one, he could see a woman dangling her legs and trying to escape. Silen. Mandrin had her strapped down.

“Sorry to run,” Mandrin called out, blood splattered all over him and hastily made bandages covering his arm. “But your cause was lost a long time ago.” He said it with no hatred or pleasure, only cold sincerity. He tossed a fist-sized metal object that landed on top of the shattered platform.

Without thinking, Zel leapt on top of it. As he put all his will into healing, he barely felt the blast throw him skyward. He landed with a clatter of boards on top of the platform.

He had never felt so much pain. His body felt cooked and beaten from the inside out. He saw the man he’d sworn to protect lying breathlessly next to him. Korrich, despite Zel’s efforts, had taken a bullet in the stomach. With a cough of blood and a grunt of effort, Zel reached over to touch the man on the neck. His sword, dim from use, glowed as Zel put his last bit of energy into the dying man.

Korrich began to breathe, slowly, and Zel sighed in relief. He tried to get up, but everything was in pain, and if he wanted any hope of healing quickly he needed to rest. He lay there as the Cawns quickly came to their aid, and let his weakness take him.

“Is that her?” Segrich asked as his soldiers pushed the struggling and gagged woman into his office.

“Yes, lord,” Mandrin said upon entering with his men, his arm in a cast.

“What happened to you?”

“Things didn’t quite work out, lord.” Mandrin winced in pain as he took an unbalanced step, then stopped. “The Prophet interfered.”

Slamming his fist on his desk, Segrich exploded on the minor race. “You were placed where you were to prevent intervention, Mandrin. How could one man stop all the firepower I gave you?”

“He didn’t. Korrich gave his speech, but the Prophet is dead.”

Silen’s eyes widened in shock as she heard this. Then she stared off, blinking, her emotions warring with each other.

“Yes, Silen,” Segrich said with a chuckle. “This is good news. Korrich’s cause should be in shambles now, lords.” The advisors, fellow councilmembers, and guards perked up their eyes and listened to Segrich intently. “It is now time to enact our way of peace. Tomorrow will be a day to remember for all the Grichian brothers and sisters. Tomorrow will be the day that Grichia achieves its final peace.”