The dim haze of a dusty sun illuminated the land as the heat beat down upon my brow. Clinking rock candy and the stamping of boots were a constant companion as I strode forth upon a landscape that had all life stripped from it. At one time, these plains were filled with gumdrop boulders, licorice grass, and splashes of color from the many sugar daisies that once bloomed unmolested. But now, parched chocolate soil that had cracked from a severe lack of moisture spread as far as the eye could see. Behind me marched a grim-faced army that made no sound other than that of marching. An army comprised of the battered but not broken remnants of our land, Churros. Gingermen, Sweetkin, Choclins, and Smorves all marched shoulder to shoulder in unity that, before these dark days, had been unimaginable. These soldiers, these heroes, were the remnants of the once proud nations that ruled these lands. They were the ones who stood between this world’s destruction at the hands of the Gobblors, invaders from another realm. The Gobblors had destroyed everything in their path of total conquest and their ravenous nature had scourged these once-sweet lands.

The rumbling of our footsteps echoed off the dusty land as we marched across what had once been the Kingdom of Melonia. Our silence was bred from the acceptance of our impending demise. We knew that we may die, yet we marched on anyway. It was the only way to ensure the future of our world. Ever since the emergence of The Rift, not a soul had had a restful sleep within our lands. So dire was the invasion of these strange monsters that had wiped out entire kingdoms in rapid succession.

This was our final stand, our final stab at the darkness. I wiped at my face, brushing away the syrup that beaded from the merciless sun. The sugar-crusted rings of my armor that had once shone brilliantly had been stained a light brown by the chocolate dust that constantly blew with the wind. Dark clouds swirled in a circle through the sky, like cotton candy mixed with too many colors, that could usher forth a devastating cyclone at any moment. At the center of this phenomenon would be the Rift. Lightning crackled to the east, surging from the ground up towards the sky as if to defy all sense. We were close.

“Nervous Commander?” A broad-shouldered Gingerbird man with the head of a falcon spoke beside me. He wore taffy armor riddled with holes that had been hastily patched. His eyes at first glance appeared sharp and alert. But if you looked closely, you could feel his exhaustion. The same exhaustion we all felt. Chocolate stains marred his feathered head. Two eagle-like wings grew from the soldier’s back. One was bent at a slightly odd angle. He hissed in pain through his beak as he attempted to stretch them.

“Don’t push yourself Heath.” I warned, but he rolled his eyes.

“We all need to push ourselves this time Commander.”

“I still say you should have stayed behind in Tapiocia.” Heath growled at my comment.

“What? And miss all the fun? I’ll not let them say that the last Gingerbird hid away from the final battle due to a broken wing!” He boasted and beat his chest. Neither of us knew if he truly was the last of the Gingerbirds, but none refuted him his boast. Heath looked to me with a grin, “When we’re finished here lets have a duel. Just you and me, like old times.”

I smiled, “Yeah, sure Heath. I’ll kick your ass just like every other time.” Behind us rumbled gravel-like chuckles. Distractions like these helped cast aside the constant feeling of doom as we marched to our fates. “There it is, the Rift.” I pointed as we crested a hill not two miles west of the ruins of a town, the remains of which still stood like the wrapper of a long eaten candy whale. Not a sprinkle’s throw away was our goal, a massive rip in the sugary fabric of the world. Small, gray-skinned figures scurried about in the ruins of the town, forming into a mass of bodies that faced us. Closer to the Rift, an even larger group was forming up to charge towards us in a wave.

“The sheer power…” A robed Gingergirl, no older than fifteen, with long blue raspberry hair gasped as she stared with wide gray eyes at the Rift.

“Caramelina.” I spoke to draw her attention and smiled, “Focus.”

“Y-yes. Sorry Commander.” She bowed her head and returned to staring at the wound in our world. Out of all of the sugar magi that survived our march, she was the most powerful. As such, she was to be the focal point of the ritual to close the Rift. Protecting those sugar magi was our utmost priority, even at the cost of our very lives.

“We’ll get through this.” I assured the sugar magi that looked at me nervously. There were only twenty of them left after all our battles with the Gobblors. We had left Sweetrock with over two hundred. The eldest of the sugar magi had privately warned me that they may not be enough to close the Rift, but we continued anyway. To turn back after all the sacrifices we had made would be to consign ourselves to death. I clenched my fist over the pommel of my gummy sword that hung snugly at my side in an attempt to hide the shaking of my hands. I looked back towards the army…my army. Even after all this time, it still felt weird to call it that.

Scores and scores of Sugarites and Sweetkin of all races looked back at me expectantly. We were not ready for this. I was not ready for this. Yet we would stand all the same.

One of our battles marching towards the Rift had claimed the life of our previous Commander, Meltmallow Bunt Sucklecane. A wolf type Sweetkin with an unnatural cunning that had helped hold the Empire of Sweetrock together when they stood alone against the Gobblors. He was a legend in the army, and losing him had nearly cost us everything. But thanks to Heath, myself, and our many subordinates, the army held together just enough to beat the Gobblors. As we stood atop the hill overlooking the ruins of what may have once a peaceful farming village, I could feel the weight of the entire world upon my ginger spiced shoulders. The far off army of gray-skinned invaders began to rush towards us. It was time.

Gods I hated public speaking.

“Nervous Commander?” Heath repeated his initial question and smirked as he stared towards The Rift.

“Nah, just hungry. Daemon-spewing portals always bring out the glutton in me.” Everyone within earshot shared a chuckle.

“Then hurry up and eat that damn thing so we can all go home!” A soldier shouted from behind, followed by a chorus of cheers.

“Hey, I brought you lot along because I thought you’d want a piece for yourselves! Meltmallow always claimed I was the caring type after all!” I shouted back which only made the men laugh more. Backs straightened as the men laughed. Gingerkind joked with Sweetkin, while Choclins stood shoulder to shoulder with Smorves, each boasting of the trophies they’d be taking home.

“Good on you Commander.” Heath whispered. “Poor bastards haven’t had much hope these past few…”

“Months?” I finished for Heath and lightly punched his shoulder. “We’re all the hope the world needs.” I pointed towards the army arrayed against us. “Look, they’re practically pissing themselves at our arrival!” I laughed. The men followed, shouting obscenities at our foes.

“Pies forward! Double Stuffed Cream Formation!” I yelled atop my lungs. The army that had marched in a column behind me rapidly spread out into two horizontal lines. At the center of the front line was our heaviest infantry. Sweetkin, Smorves, and Humans in multiple layers of leather, chain, and plate armor wielding deadly pikes and durable war-picks. At the flanks stood forces wielding lollypop axes, rock candy maces, and gummy swords in their sugar mail attire. The second line was comprised of everyone else who wore lighter taffy armor. Those in the second line wielded both licorice bows and gummy blades. Their goal would be to pelt the enemy for as long as they could and would stay close to the sugar magi should they require support.

My greatest regret is that we had no cavalry to speak of. Our malt chocolate armored horses had always been focused by the enemy in every battle. They hated the mobility and power that a unit of heavy cavalry could bring to bare. I gave a silent prayer to Cinnamoca, the Goddess of Churros, for victory. But of course, nothing happened. Still, it never hurt to ask for divine intervention at every moment. Who knows, perhaps this time she’d come down and win the war for us.

As the men finished their formation I strode purposefully before them with a serious look upon my face. Heath strode along at my side, glaring at everyone arrayed before us in an attempt to show that he was far more fearsome than our foes. I’d like to think it worked.

“We’ve been marching a long time!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. The Gingermen and Sweetkin whispered my words down the line so that all would hear what I said even if my voice didn’t reach them. “And still we cannot rest! The Rift, the source of these demons, is before us! Every moment we wait is another moment more of those bastards break through!” I stabbed my gummy sword into the parched chocolate beneath my feet. “No more!”

“No more shall we let these bastards consume our lands! No more shall we live in fear of the next onslaught! On this day, we put a stop to the Gobblors! My brothers and sisters in arms, when this day is done we will return to our homes as heroes!” I paused for a moment, “No. Not heroes. Legends! Our names shall be sung from coast to coast for the rest of eternity! Stories shall be spun that live through the centuries so that those that come long after we are gone will know! We stood upon this very ground and refused to yield!”

Roars of approval surged higher than the loudest crack of lightning. The sound of gummy blades slapping against shields in rhythm thundered across the land. The quaking sound of marching in the distance reached my ears. I turned my head to regard the small force from the town ruins charging towards us. The ocean of bodies that surged from the Rift followed far behind.

I drew my gummy blade from the chocolatety earth and pointed it towards the enemy. “Let them come! We are the  sugary wall that will break this dark tide! We are the ones that will usher in a new dawn for all races of Churros!” My roar joined the army’s as we charged down the hill to meet the enemy in combat.

Clashing gelatin sung in my ears as my chewy blade slapped against blackened skin, parrying a thrust aimed towards my chest. I paid the enemy little mind as I rebuked his blow and bludgeoned his arm, a shrill cry cut short as my blade slammed into it’s neck. At this time the sugar magi would have stayed atop the hill just behind the second line and began their ritual. I hoped against hope that those twenty would be enough to close the Rift. We had our objective, they had theirs. All we could do was hold the line. The sweet sound of twanging licoricestrings and the whistling of hard candy arrows overhead spoke of the second line beginning to fire their ammunition. Once their candy arrows were spent they’d draw their gummy blades and form a circle around the sugar magi.

Arrows sunk into the flesh of the oncoming horde of Lactids, the weakest type of Gobblors that many referred to as ‘Swarmers’. These small Gobblors stood no taller than the average choclin. Their toothy armor was all the protection they relied upon, for they carried no shields. Weaponry wise, they favored forked spears coated with acid. Most would consider it a stroke of luck that we only faced Swarmers here, but I knew better. In the shadow of The Rift, the more monstrous of invaders would certainly come to end our assault quickly.

As is, what we were fighting were no better than a mob of well-equipped peasants.

After the third volley of candy arrows had cut a swathe through the enemy ranks, the onslaught ceased. My heart pounded constantly as the rush of sugar coursed through my veins. Time itself seemed to slow as I my gummy blade met exposed flanks, crushing bone after bone. A Swarmer cried out in his harsh tongue as my gummy blade pulverized his right arm. Their armor, more accurately described as carapace, was thickest around the chest, legs, and head. Their elbows, wrists, knees, shins, and armpits were where their protection was weakest to provide flexibility. Over multiple battles, I had developed the muscle memory of where exactly to strike the Gobblor. As my foe clutched at his shattered arm, I collapsed his throat with a quick stab and moved onto the next target.

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Screams cried hauntingly all along the line as soldiers from all walks of life died in the faith that we would be victorious this day. I stepped forward towards another swarmer and slapped his head clear off his shoulders in a single sweep. My gummy blade sung as I fell into a battle trance, focused entirely on eliminating as many of the enemy as possible. Minutes felt like hours as I crushed countless foes. Step left, upward swing, thrust, step back. The pulse of battle throbbed and echoed within as I stomped any enemy that rushed towards me.

Parry, counter, dodge, kill. Every movement another step towards sending the enemy to their end. My chest felt heavy as I sucked in air any moment I could spare. A hand pounded twice on my shoulder in rapid succession from behind me. The signal to rest. I nodded gratefully and moved behind the soldier. It was time for me to get a breather and the man behind me would take my place in the line.

Battle was far more than a quick dealing of death. They were long, drawn-out things that could last for hours at a time. Meltmallow had always said, the first Gingerman to tire is the first Gingerman slain. Twenty minute rotations were drilled into us from the moment we joined his forces. Gods bless that Sweetkin, wherever his soul may be.

I took a quick breath and surveyed the situation as I retreated to safety behind the line of heavy infantry. We were holding well, despite the oncoming surge of Swarmer reinforcements. In our constant struggle, we had become a well-buttered war machine. But there were just so many of them. Like an ocean of jam spread out before us that threatened to drown the world, they poured constantly from The Rift. I washed my face with syrup from the bladder that hung at my side. A few more minutes of rest and I’d be back into the fight.

The ground rumbled violently as the Rift churned. Hellfire spewed from within the Rift as a large amount of flying creatures broke through the portal that merged our worlds. Cholestikins they were named, but we coined them simply ‘Fliers’. They were similar in stature to the Choclin-esque Lactids, but with longer arms and less toothy armor. They also had four dragon-fly style wings protruding from their backs that buzzed maddeningly. Shrill screeching soon covered the battlefield as they swarmed overhead, throwing acid bombs into the mass of my army before descending with long arms and sharp claws.

“Drown them in sugar!” Heath cried out far behind me as he managed the second line. The snapping of licoricestrings soon followed, countering the incessant buzzing of wings. The storm of candy arrows sent multitudes of Fliers falling rapidly to their deaths, taking Swarmers with them as they fell upon their own forces. Clouds of Fliers tried to flee from the sugary death, but to no avail. With each volley, large amounts of them were struck from the skies. I grinned as I smacked a Flier’s head from its shoulders when it dove directly towards me with outstretched claws. I could feel my comrade’s eyes on my back as I moved to intercept the next dive-bombing Flier. They preferred to attack lone targets rather than grouped up forces.

Once more, the Rift churned violently. But this time, grand figures clad in tooth-like armor charged out from the portal riding large mounts that resembled scarabs. These would be the Sucretash, or Brutes as we called them. They were the deadliest of the Gobblor’s forces throughout the war. Even as they thundered across the dusty chocolate ground, smashing through their own forces to get at our own, I couldn’t help but feel a touch of terror grip my heart. Whenever the going got tough, the Brutes were sure to be where the fighting was thickest. Incandian cries uttered from their gullets as they brandished their weapons as they drew ever nearer.

“Pies up men!” A heavily armored Gingerbear, called out as the mounted Brutes closed the distance. Men quickly followed suit, stepping back and presenting a firm wall of nut-laden nougat to counter the Brute’s deadly charge. Swarmers threw themselves towards the piemen in an attempt to disrupt our formation. They found no purchase, only death. Either by being impaled on sharpened forks, or crumbled beneath the coming Brutes. But there was one major flaw to our use of pies versus the enemy’s version of cavalry.

Nougat and teeth clashed as the Brutes and their mounts smashed into our wall of nutty death. Roars of rage reached the heavens as screams of pain haunted my ears. Pies slammed into toothy armor and tore Brutes from their mounts as they suicidally charged our line. But those scarabs that they rode kept charging forward. And their armor was much thicker than the Brutes’. A pie would find no purchase against such beasts, and so we had to ignore the mounts and go for the riders.

Mounts that were now trampling into our line, crushing those in their way.

Sharp cracks like rock candy crunching underfoot sounded in the air. I gave a silent thanks to the late Meltmallow in reverence. By his orders we had pie formations mixed with soldiers wielding sugar-picks. Thus far, it was the best option to counter mounted foes. Pies to strike at the riders, sugar picks to crack through even a Scarab’s hardened armor. Even in death, his brilliance lived on to see the Gobblar ended. I’d like to think myself a competent commander, but none could compare to Meltmallow's mind.

Regrefully, all I could do was watch as gingermen died by the score in face of the Brute’s onslaught. I so desperately wanted to join the fight. Wanted to feel my gummy blade cave in the skulls of those that would kill those under my care. But I knew better. So I stood at the back of the front line. Watching. Waiting.

I didn’t have to wait long.

An ungodly sound like that of a massive molten chocolate eruption cascaded from the direction of The Rift. Moments later the ground began to quake and I felt my footing fail me. For a moment, there was blessed silence on the battlefield, as if both sides had suddenly decided to cease fighting. Even as I pushed myself to my feet, I knew that wouldn’t be true. And yet, as I stood, I found that it was true. The remaining Brutes, Swarmers, and Fliers had retreated from the front line. My muscles tensed as I saw the reason why.

A single Gobblor strode forth from the portal. One that stood taller than even the tallest Brute and twice as wide. In an instant, I knew exactly what was coming. This new monster’s body would be exceedingly bulky, almost entirely of muscle. It’s tooth armor would cover it from head to toe nearly three inches thick. A Calcifer Gobblor. A ‘Breaker’. A single one of those could demolish an entire squad of warriors with ease. With large lumbering steps, it made its way towards us. None dared disturb the silence that had settled upon the battlefield.

With gargantuan hands, the monster cradled a brutal looking maul of what looked to be a giant tooth. Normally, this would have been a Calcifer Gobblor, but it sprouted a set of six dragonfly-esque wings from its back. Wings that, no matter how hard they tried, would never be able to lift their owner. This was a Commander subspecies. Far more intelligent, and therefore, far more deadly. In an effort to harden my resolve, I clenched the pommel of my gummy blade and strode forth. Towards the enemy.

A sea of frosting and taffy parted before me as the candymen cleared a path. Only the crackling of magical energy behind us could be heard as I made my solemn march towards destiny. Halfway through the ranks, the sound of lollypops clashing against nougat rung out in ordered intervals. First only a few, but before long a massive chorus joined in as they clashed gummy against rock candy in a drum-like salute. I could feel my pulse echo that of the beat. With a deep breath, I raised my gummy sword. An avalanche of cheers spurred me on, filling my body with their energy, their hope.

Before long, I stood beyond the army and awaited the coming Gobblor. As the Commander approached, the ground trembled with each step. New cracks formed atop the chocolate landscape as he lumbered towards me, as if he sought to demolish the land itself. When we stood twenty paces apart, he stopped.

“You are the leader?” It questioned, resting its massive maul upon it’s shoulder. I nodded, surprised that one of them could speak. They had never bothered to do so before. A strange gurgling sounded from behind the monster’s tooth helm. It then paused for a moment, as if in contemplation before nodding. “Yes. We see. Your resistance was admirable, but you will all end here.” It pointed towards the hill where the sugar magi were focused on their ritual.

The ridge was covered in Swarmers charging directly for the ritual.

“Second line!” I shouted out of reflex, “Intercept!” But my words fell on deaf ears as the first of the Swarmers reached the sugar magi, piercing their bodies with wicked forks. Nobody moved as the hill was overrun.

“This is how Churros fell.” The enemy commander spoke behind me in a far different voice than it had original spoke. An old voice. A tired voice. A female’s voice. “They took us completely by surprise.” it continued. “We had no warning, no forethought to watch the rear. Our eyes focused solely on the Rift. Everything was focused on this final battle. So much so that we forgot one simple rule of battle.”

“Yostul val krassal Tilvols!” One of the few remaining sugar magi chanted in a booming voice that echoed throughout that battlefield. As the words left his tongue, a massive eruption of blinding magical energy blasted into the sky from where they had stood. A chorus of fearful shouts matched my own from the explosion that knocked me to the ground. Surely, I was not the only to fall from such a shock-wave of energy. Helplessly, I rubbed at my eyes to recover my vision as I rose to my knees. When my vision returned all words left me. The entire hill was gone. No signs of the sugar magi, nor the Gobblor force remained.

“Always assign a watch at the rear.”

Sickening laughter gurgled from behind as the commander’s voice returned to normal. “You, and all who remain in this world, are finished.” Were the last words I heard before a pain erupted in the back of my head, causing me to black out.

The words ‘Congratulations’ appeared in red lettering as I stared into the darkness.

“What?!” I cried out in surprise. This was it? This was the ending to Siege of Churros? I reached up to the side of my head and pressed the retract button upon my visor. In an instant, the black screen in front of my eyes was sucked into the small metal contraption that surrounded my head like a circlet. Carefully, I detached the visor from the implant in my head and rested it upon the small table next to my bed.

“What the hell was that all about?!” Just as I was about to head over to my computer desk a call alert appeared in the corner of my vision from a number I didn’t recognize. With a mental click, I accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon Mr. Tiramisu,” The voice on the other end began accompanied by the clicking of a keyboard. My body tensed as I recognized her voice. The same voice from in the game. “I hope you’ll excuse me for watching your stream of our product. I also hope you’ll accept my congratulations for being one of the few who have seen the ending to our game.”

“Uhhh thanks.” Our product? It must have been some sort of Sweettooth Productions representative. “Who am I speaking with exactly?”

“Oh! Please excuse my poor manners. My name is Christy Horderves.”

“You’re the owner of Sweettooth Productions!” I shouted in surprise. A light chuckle sounded in my head. Thankfully she wasn’t around to see my embarrassment.

“The one and the same.” She paused for a moment as the clicking on her end continued at a rapid pace. “I was wondering, would you be able to do dinner later tonight?”

“Dinner? Tonight?”

“If its a problem, we can always reschedule for another time.”

“Oh! No, its no problem.” I looked at the clock in the corner of my vision. It was currently four after one in the afternoon.

“Excellent!” She cheerfully exclaimed. “How does six thirty sound?”

“Sounds good.” I responded. “Hey wait, this isn’t exactly a local meet-up! Isn’t your headquarters in Montreal? I don’t think I’d be able to drive that far that fast without getting a ticket or ten.”

“No worries deary.” The woman laughed. “I’ve already dispatched an air-shuttle to your home. It’ll be there at around two thirty, so strap in around five-ish and we’ll be golden.”

“Alright then, I’ll be there.” Christy chuckled,

“I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss. See you then!”

With an audible click, the call ended. Thoughts began racing through my head like a stampede of cattle. Was I really going to meet the reclusive Christy Horderves? What was I going to wear? But above all, what the hell was that ending? Regardless, I quickly sat at my computer desk to check in with the people who watched my stream of the game’s ending to see what they thought of it. But as soon as I sat down at my desk, a ‘Connection Reestablished’ alert popped up on my screen.

“What the…” With quick fingers I checked my Internet connection history. “Impossible…” The world had long since created a world-spanning connection to the net. It was almost impossible to lose a connection anywhere in the world. And yet, somehow, ten minutes ago my connection had been cut. Spinning some quick math around in my head to account for the accelerated time distortion of Virtual Reality gaming, I came to a conclusion that sent shivers down my spine.

The connection was cut moments before the enemy commander emerged from the Rift. And it had only just been reestablished.

“What the hell…” Much to discuss indeed. But before that, I needed to find something to wear, shave, and shower.