Chapter 50 "Shot in the Dark"

There I am, watching as Alexandria fell into the mud and blood of the trenches, I had created to protect my Librarians. What have I gotten myself into? My lack of skill, or knowledge, or whatever, is going to lead to the death of all my people. I know I called out to my other scions for support, but it shouldn’t have gotten to this point. I should have done better.

Alexandria’s white robes were now a colour of mud and blood. She was on her back, Nightshade about her, the dagger he was using gone, replaced with a short sword and an evil smile. I watched as she unloaded mana rounds into the Knights left arm, but it wasn’t enough to save her.

Blam!

A bright flash of light slammed into the chest of the scorpion. He started to fall backwards into the mud, but his metal boots held him in place. Until Alex’s tail got a hold of the monster’s legs. I had forgotten that my scions were originally based on standard animals, Alexandria was a snake, first and foremost. Like a constricting snake, such as a boa or python, which kills its prey by suffocation, Alexandria was about to constrict the shit out of this scorpion.

She was using the momentum of the blast to wrap her coils around the knight, as her robotic hands reloaded. She had a good grasp around the knight’s legs, and she began to squeeze. I could see the metal slowly start to give under continual pressure. Like a deep-sea vehicle springing a leak, losing its internal pressure, the ocean pressing down on it; Alex was the ocean, and she was going to smash that ship into a thousand little pieces. I can’t express my feelings with my dungeon heart.

Then, I heard another blast.

Grace had moved to a different location, she had a line of sight on the trench line. She was firing supportive blasts at the knights.

Nightshade wasn’t finished yet, he slashed downwards at the coils, Alexandria screamed out in pain as he removed a chunk of her flesh. She returned the favour, at this close range and his movement reduced, she couldn’t miss the small opening. I could feel through the cord that connected us, that she was charging her next round with the majority of her life energy. The whole process took less than a second, and she pulled the trigger, she aimed for the head, but as she pulled the trigger, her constriction of his legs caused Nightshade’s left leg to snap in two.

With a sharp crack echoing through the trenches, the mighty Nightshade’s leg surrendered to the pressure acting upon it. The amour, once a symbol of strength and resilience, fractured under the weight of external strain. The fibres of flesh and bone strained and splintered, unable to withstand the sudden torque. As the bone finally snapped, a rush of sound filled the air, blending the crackling of breaking metal, bone, and flesh with the blaze of flame. The severed ends dangled for a moment before succumbing to gravity's pull, descending to the ground below.

As knight shade began to fall to the ground, was when Alexandria pulled the trigger, she did not hit her intended mark, but she might as well, have, from my point of view. With a swift and precise release, the bullet soared through the air, propelled by the gunslinger's skilled hand. As the bullet made impact it connected with the scorpion’s cheek. The bullet pierced the insect’s vibrant black flesh with a satisfying thud. The flesh of the warrior’s face yielded to the bullet's piercing force, giving way to a clean entry wound. Juicy, crimson droplets sprayed outward, painting a vivid picture of blood on impact. The bullet penetrated deeper, cleaving through the Knight’s tender flesh under his natural carapace, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. The face, now pierced and divided, was a displayed testament to Alexandria’s power.

The once proud knight now lay broken and lifeless, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of existence.

In a moment of urgency and unwavering loyalty, I watched as two librarians rushed to aid their scion, who lay trapped beneath a heavy corpse. I could tell that Alexandria had no more energy to give, the final bullet and the damage that she received left her almost at zero. She didn’t have the energy to move the heavy corpse that her coils were wrapped around.

Thankfully, her subordinates were there to help. Adrenaline surged through their veins as they assessed the situation, their eyes meeting with a shared determination. Without hesitation, they positioned themselves on either side of the body, their muscles flexing with the weight they were about to bear. With synchronized effort, they dug into the ground and, with a resolute grunt, exerted every ounce of strength within them. Straining against the oppressive force, their faces etched with determination, they slowly lifted the dead weight, inch by painstaking inch. Beads of sweat mingled with their furrowed brows as their collective resolve intensified. The weight felt immense, but their unwavering duty propelled them forward.

Finally, with a surge of combined power, the corpse shifted, granting their trapped leader a precious moment of relief. They continued their laborious mission, pulling their companion free from the entrapment, their triumphant cries mingling with sighs of relief. At that moment, the bond of victory revealed its unparalleled strength, leaving an indelible mark on their hearts and a testament to the power of solidarity.

Blam!

Right, the battle wasn’t over yet. Scanning, I could see the two fire ants and about half a dozen knights still moving about.

Blam!

Positioned atop a concealed vantage point, the sniper, Grace, peered through the scope of their high-powered rifle, eyes locked on the distant moving target. I could tell that she wasn’t holding back. She answered my call for support and happily rushed over.

It almost felt like she had the power to slow time seemed she meticulously adjusted her aim, compensating for her target's velocity, direction and the ever-present factors of wind and distance. With steady hands and unwavering focus, Grace squeezed the trigger, releasing a single shot into the battlefield. The bullet erupted from the muzzle, cutting through the air with deadly precision. It streaked through the atmosphere, closing the gap between my deadly sniper and their quarry in a fraction of a second. In that fleeting moment, it felt to me that the world held its breath. Then, with a resounding crack, the bullet found its mark, striking the target with unerring accuracy. A ripple of impact rippled through the target's body as they stumbled, and their momentum halted abruptly. Grace's skill and unwavering determination had triumphed, solidifying their reputation as a master of precision and control.

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I watch over the field, and smiled to myself, as the remaining six knights hunkered down in the trenches from Grace’s sniper fire. I have to pat myself on the back, the upgrade rifle and eye, combined with her experience, skills and magic were truly awe-inspiring.

The knights were left leaderless, cut off, pinned down and trapped. They crouched behind a crumbling wall, their hearts pounding in unison, they found themselves thrust into a harrowing game of survival. The sharp crack of rifle fire echoed through the desolate landscape, sending tremors of fear through their trembling bodies.

Each passing second felt like an eternity as they desperately sought refuge from the lethal hailstorm. The remaining gunslingers pulled away from the fire ants, and left them to their fun, burning the trenches to the ground. The slingers moved to help remove the remaining knights.

As another knight fell trying to retreat, out of my domain, the remaining knights’ breaths became shallow, trying to silence the sound of their own existence. Sweat-soaked brows furrowed with anxiety, and wide eyes darted frantically, scanning for any semblance of cover.

Every gust of wind carried the haunting whiz of bullets, causing them to flinch and press themselves deeper into the shadows. Time seemed to warp, stretching the boundaries of their endurance, as they clung to the hope that safety would find them. In this moment of profound vulnerability, they were consumed by the chilling realization that their lives hung in the balance, locked in a precarious dance with an unseen adversary.

That was when I could laugh for joy, the gargoyles came on mass out of the smoke-filled air, but their attention wasn’t directed at the knight. Oh, no dear, oh no! It was directed at the fire ants, the last two. I could finally breathe, and a wave of relief washed over me as I laid eyes on the approaching reinforcements.

My heart, burdened with anxiety and uncertainty, suddenly felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from my weary shoulders. The sight of their familiar uniforms and determined expressions infused me with a renewed sense of hope. At that moment, the world seemed to slow down, and my worries began to fade into the background. The cavalry arrived just in time, and a surge of gratitude flooded my veins.

A sense of reassurance enveloped me, like a warm embrace, knowing that I was no longer alone in this daunting battle. With each step they took toward me, my confidence grew, and the flickering flame of hope within me grew into a blazing fire. Finally, I could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that together, we stood a fighting chance against the odds.

As the scent of fresh blood wafted through the air, a cacophony of wings filled the sky, a blood lust filled the battle-hungry monsters from hell. Gargoyles of all shapes and sizes swooped down with fervour, their eyes fixed on their tantalizing prize below. With precision and agility, they orchestrated a masterpiece of synchronized dives. Their mixtures of different wings fill the sky above the ants, a mix of feathers, stones, and the odd bat wing, ruffling against the wind as they plummeted towards their target.

Like skilled acrobats, they spiralled and twisted, each dive bomber vying for its share of the feast of gore. Their wings beat in a synchronized rhythm, propelling them closer to the succulent morsels that awaited them as if they were a seagull trying to crack open a shell. Beaks poised and talons at the ready, they descended upon the meal in a flurry of motion, their collective hunger overpowering any semblance of order. Feathers, wings, claws and all brushed against each other, creating a whirlwind of movement as they pecked, snatched, and tried to devour their prizes with voracious delight. The air reverberated with their ecstatic calls, a chorus of triumph as the gargoyles revelled in their shared conquest.

That was when I saw Hades, the little bastard took his sweet time. As the little gargoyle soared above the rocky melted trenches, his keen eyes locked onto a scuttling ant below, that was nearing the end of the defence line and was about to break towards the church. With swift precision, he swooped down, his wings slicing through the air with grace. In a moment of calculated aggression, Hade's sharp claws snatched the unsuspecting ant, he cast a run circle and powered it with mana and lifted the walking tank into the sky.

The ant wriggled and fought, its pincers snapping in futile resistance. Bursts of flames were next, a blast hitting Hades in the face, the little jerk just laughed at it, and said an insult towards its mother that I would rather not repeat.

Then, with a sudden twist of Hades' hands, the ant was released, plummeting towards the unforgiving ground below. Time seemed to speed up as the descended, its fate sealed, in a last-ditch effort, it blasted at the ground with its flame throwers doing nothing more than creating an epic light show. Then, with a resounding thud, the ant collided with the jagged surface in which he created, its body tumbling and bouncing. Hades, triumphant in its aerial hunt, watched from above, satisfied with its successful display of predatory prowess.

The last of the three ants went charging toward the temple grounds. Not the choice I would have gone with, but hey I am not a walking fire-breathing tank. I am your friendly domain core.

With eyes honed to perfection, Grace and Hades surveyed the bull-rushing ant below. The glint of silver amidst the rushing ant caught its attention— Grace was firing; she was a shimmer against the backdrop of the wilderness. But Hades wasn’t about to be outdone, his powerful wings beat with purpose as it dived from the heavens. In a breathtaking display of nature's grandeur, the little gargoyle extended its talons, like deadly hooks ready to seize their prize.

It felt like those two were racing to see who was going to get the kill. The two friends, no, that isn’t right. The two co-workers, that sound better but not perfect, both exceptional warriors, pushed their skills to the limits, their determination etched on their faces.

Hades raced onwards with unmatched speed and accuracy; he reminded me of an eagle I once saw on the Frazer River. The eagle's talons closed around the sleek body of a salmon, clenching with an unwavering grip. The fish thrashed in a desperate struggle for freedom, but the eagle's grasp remained unyielding. Rising effortlessly from the water's surface, the eagle ascended to the sky, its wings beating against the weight of its impressive conquest. As it soared, the eagle carried the salmon high above, a symbol of its mastery over the untamed realm it called home. This was Hades, just like the eagle back in British Colombia, the flier had his prize in his talons.

With unwavering focus, Grace stood tall on the roof of my chapel, gun in hand, eyes fixed on the distant prey, which happened to now be in Hades' hands. The tension, for me, in the air both literally and figuratively was palpable as the fellow competitors hurried to finish off the last walking tank with their attacks. Each vying for the coveted bullseye, but Grace possessed a steady hand and unmatched precision. She was slowly pulling back on the trigger, muscles taut with controlled power, and then she pulled back on the trigger in a split second with a fluid motion. The bullet sailed through the air; its trajectory unwavering and struck closer to the center than any before it, landing with resolute confidence. Grace's skill and accuracy left no doubt that they had triumphed over their rivals, a true master of her craft.

The victory was ours!