She stood there, panting, sword down by her side. There was blood on her face, but it wasn’t hers. Her hair was unbound, and her simple in keeps uniform was covered in dirt. She was breathing hard, and sweat pooled down her face, but she seemed focused.

As for us, we sat there, staring in shock. That level of strength… to be able to fell something that could decimate an entire group of trained men, with a single strike… it was far beyond human. The Captain had been strong. Davinda was almost a demi-god. Even modern weaponry wouldn’t be able to keep up. I would’ve bet good money that she could slice through a tank. The people here… they weren’t normal.

The glow from her blade faded, but she didn’t sheath it. Taking a moment to look around, Davinda made eye contact with me, before scanning me up and down. Seemingly satisfied that I was ok, she walked over to the guard captain, who was getting his broken leg splinted.

I wasn’t able to make out what they were saying to each other, but I did see the Captain nodding a lot (when he wasn’t wincing from the pain).

I surveyed the scene of the battle. The road was pitted with holes from the limbs of the beings, there were shards of stone and dust everywhere. The streets had a greater volume of blood on them then was strictly good, but compared to some of the scenes straight out of a nightmare I had seen on my way here it was relatively tame.

Looking at the people, most of them looked shell shocked, panicked, or exhausted. Some, however, just looked grim. It seems like, while things like this weren’t exactly a common occurrence, they weren’t unheard of.

I wondered what the plan was. Was there a nearby town? Could someone send wagons out here to pick up survivors? I know that even on Earth, in an era of instant information and the ability to travel anywhere within a day, that crisis management took time. I had to imagine it would be worse here. The people might be super human, but from what I’d seen, the bureaucracy was not.

A shout rang out around the square. Two guards hoisted the captain up. He looked pale, but his voice was firm.

“This gate is locked shut. We’ll be proceeding around to the Northern gate. We need you to be orderly and quiet”.

An outraged ripple ran through the group.

“Hey, you’re risking our asses with this! We all know they came from the East. Why don’t you just open this damn gate? You’ve made us come all the way here already”

The man who had shouted was tall, almost a head taller than the people next to him. His faded Auburn hair didn’t cover the crown of his head. He had a large mustache on his face, which was red, and dripping with sweat.

He stood there, waiting for a reply. The captain gazed him up and down.

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“Merchant Ryan”.

He let the silence linger.

“The Western gate is stuck. We don’t have the ability to open it. The Northern gate is our best bet for making it out alive”.

The man, Ryan, reddened even further at the words of the captain.

“Can’t you go out and get rid of those things? Why do we have to risk ourselves?”

The Captain stared him down. The man started wilting.

“We would die. Have you seen what one of those things did to us?”

Ryan wasn’t interested in responding to the question.

“It’s your job to die for us! That’s why you exist. When it comes down to it, you’re supposed to give your lives. Why do you even exist if you can’t do that?” he screamed.

The crowd started to mutter in agreement. Seeing this, Davinda stepped forwards, drawing in a deep breath. She opened her mouth, and belted out

“HEY. WE’RE GOING TO THE NORTHERN GATE. YOU CAN COME WITH US OR STAY HERE AND DIE!”

That sent the tittering crowd into silence. I looked around, seeing many pale, panicked faces. People broke into whispered discussion, turning and arguing with family members with furious intensity.

Davinda and the captain weren’t waiting, however. They turned and strode off, with the few remaining guards limping after them.

I hurried to catch up. The others could stay, if they wanted, but I saw what those constructs could do. The only person that was able to beat them was ahead of me, not back there.

As we went down the street, I turned and looked back. About 70% of the group had hurried to follow. The rest, with curses thrown and grim faces, started retreating into a nearby building.

Davinda made good on her threat, however. She kept walking, even when, after about 10 minutes, we could distantly hear the sounds of screaming behind us.

I don’t think I could object to the behavior. It would be easy to criticize her for not saving everyone, but I couldn’t imagine keeping people, even cooperative people, alive against seemingly unstoppable stone death machines was easy. No, they had made their choice. It’s not like they hadn’t seen what they were up against.

It was a sobering thought. There wasn’t nearly as much of a safety net in this world. Back home, there was normally at least something. Some net to allow you to change your mind, or some way to get back on track if you strayed. It often wasn’t perfect, but they did exist. The people who chose not to join us didn’t get the luxury to change their mind, or to catch up later. They chose to separate themselves, and had probably died for that choice.

I walked on, listlessly.

The distance we had to travel was short, luckily enough. The gates weren’t truly cardinal, and the West and North gates were positioned relatively close to each other along the wall. What slowed us down the most was detours around streets consumed by fire, or having to take a long road around strings of buildings.

The fires had gotten worse in the time I had been out. They lit the black sky up orange, and smoke choked us, filling up our lungs whenever we went upwards in elevation. The persistent sound of coughing faded into the background as we walked.

The sounds of stone hitting stone broke the silence. Another golem? No, the impacts were too frequent. Was there more than one construct?

They rounded the corner, limbs skittering. Three stony figures bore down on us. Davinda drew her blade, and with a flash, lept forwards.