“Like a hippo, a sheep, a bat and a wolf all made beautiful love together, and then their inbred grandkids robbed a “I need four guns to get a Frosty” tough-guy’s house for armor.”

“I’m quite sure I didn’t understand most of that.” Madame murmured.

“Don’t worry about it. Stand by with Final Revel.” I was staring down the road. Miyuki was doing her usual outstanding job. She was nailing a foot or leg to the ground, and letting the armored hulks slam to the ground, trip up everyone around them, and before they could get up again, she was aiming down the shaft of her next arrow.

Pomoroy and Radz were killing them too, but they wouldn’t have much time to get shots off. The wall breakers were moving fast, horns down and pounding down the cobblestones. Ready to smash through whatever was between them and me.

I felt like I was missing something. The two Made Men I just hired were looking dapper, though they looked uncomfortably comfortable shooting down with their heavy crossbows. Didn’t quite have Miyuki’s range, but they were already shooting.

…

OH HELL NO!

“Made Men! Only shoot concealed or hidden units!”

They instantly shifted their fire, shooting alarmingly close to the barricade.

“Madame, Final Revel, now!”

The heavy bolts looked like they exploded when they hit the ground. I focused on the bursts of fire popping off on the cobbles. It wasn’t the bolts, or I didn’t think so. I frowned, trying to understand what I was seeing. A flash of fire, then a spray of gore with a glowing bolt of light sticking out of the middle of it. Nobody here was bothering with ammunition either.

Before I could figure it out, I saw one of the Thugs protecting the Militia’s flanks go down screaming. A murder-baboon was on top of him, long fingers ripping pieces of meat off the bone, like it was shredding a roast chicken.

“Shit, VERSAI!”

“On it!”

There was a blond blur diving down onto the Thug, but to my shock, Versai didn’t stab it. Instead, with a ferocious kick she launched it back over the barricade. One of the Made Men managed to hit it in the air. The thing exploded, showering blood and organ meat across the already gore-slicked street.

Versai came back carrying the thug. She dropped him down to the medics, then reported. “They explode. These monsters have a different pattern than the ones we fought before, and up close, you can see there is a tiny flame in their eyes.”

“Well. Super. Guess those thugs have some use. Damn.”

I looked down. The thug was already back on his feet, looking fit and ready to work.

“Back to the front line, Thug. Stand back where you were.” I pointed. “Versai, keep your eyes on the front line.”

“Hard for me to see them this far out, but I will do my best. Oh Hell!”

The murder baboons had split the fire coming down from the ranged units, pulling away Sebastian and the Made Men. Two of the wall breakers were going to reach the first hedgehog. Big things. Muscles rippling under that bone armor of theirs. The mass of horn in the middle of their head made a brutal ram, with points curling out, then forward and up. Horns meant for ripping.

The Disbanded Militia were braced and ready. I watched them get low, crouched over their spears. One foot pressing the butt of the spear into the cobbles, the spear tip carefully aimed low to hit the enemy’s chest. And then they waited. Pressed together in their little block of ten. I could see the tension in them. Was it part of their programming? Some instinct reminding them of when they did this last?

But they held. Whatever the system did to them, or for them, the militia held. The monsters crashed down on them, stinking things, furious eyes glaring into theirs. Ignoring any possible threat or danger. They hurled towards the barricade, and straight into the long spears waiting for them.

There was a sound, a meaty chunk and a crash. I thought the spears would shatter. Sure of it! But like their owners, they held. Long, sharp tipped steel spearheads punched through the bone plates on the monsters, and into the organs below. The monsters couldn’t even bellow in pain. Five spears in the chest per customer. No negative feedback allowed.

Twenty bones a pop per militiaman. Bargain. They yanked out their spears and reset, as the brutal things leaked out on the cobbles in front of the hedgehog. Just another layer of barrier, now. Converted from danger to defense at the point of a town NPC.

I looked down the street. Scattered more wall breakers were charging closer, one or two at a time. The main mass of armored and unarmored monsters were still a good way down the road. They had been torn up some by the artillery, but not too badly. Hadn’t been enough time.

Made me think about my own layout at the Tower. I didn’t really have any Melee summons other than Rache and Versai, and the build reflected that. Might want to spend some time thinking about what to do when I start drawing more infantry. Test a few things out.

Speaking of, good time to test the Spell Tower, I think.

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“Fire the Spell Tower!”

There was a cry, and Madame cast the Final Revel. Damn, I should have-

The Spell Tower rose up at the far edge of the map. Tall, narrow, like a telephone pole coming out of a pyramid with a Van Der Graaf generator at the top. Writhing, crackling blue light gathered around the ball at the top- lighting? Plasma?

The Spell Tower struck down from on high, like the proverbial finger of God. The beam started at the base of the foremost barricade, then swept forwards. Passing, as it did, right through the cloud of magic made by the Final Revel.

At which point things went a little sideways. The blue-white beam changed into something… half real? Some of that soap bubble shimmer clung to it, seeming to morph the blue-white through every shade of every color and into colors I don’t have words for. Colors my human, or human-ish, eyes could not comprehend. It spread, covering the width of the street then rolled forward. No longer snaking like a lighting-serpent, but like a tsunami flattening a seaside commercial district.

In 1919, a storage tank holding more than two million gallons of molasses burst, flooding a couple of streets in Boston. The tank was stored at the top of a building. Casualties- twenty one dead, one hundred fifty injured. Always seemed like a weird bit of trivia to me. It’s molasses. You can’t outrun something moving so slow, it became the go-to cliche for something that moves really slowly?

Watching the tumbling, thrashing, dying, monsters, I got it now. Speed is definitionally relative, and once the molasses hits you, it’s over. You aren’t going to be okay. The magic now had a sticky, heavy, rolling quality to it now, and it just… crushed… the street. The oncoming monsters kept running into it. It wasn’t killing them instantly, like I expected, but honestly, that just made it worse for the monsters.

Also interesting were the explosions of fire popping up for seemingly ‘no reason’ in apparently empty space. There were a lot more of those damned camouflaged Murder Baboons than I thought. A lot more. I tried doing a quick head-count, but couldn’t keep up. We had well over a hundred targets incoming, and I hadn’t been keeping count of the number already killed. Which meant that we were going to be sitting on a fat stack of bones, but this threat curve was turning vertical in a real hurry. Couldn’t let up. Mustn’t get complacent!

The Spell Tower cut off it’s flow of lightning, but the magic already on the street lingered for a few seconds longer. I had tried to count under my breath.

“What’s a mississippi?” Madame looked at me side-eyed.

“A sort of two headed battle cattle. Also something we count to try and keep track of time. I’d say the blast was supposed to run for… two seconds? But when it hit your spell, it all slowed down. It stayed in effect for another five seconds or so.”

The attack by the Spell Tower had broken the back of the wave. There were a few scattered monsters filtering in from the very far end of the map, but we had exterminated nearly all of them. The street was clogged with corpses. Good to know for the next wave. Might be something there that we could use. Rakim might just have enough time to make some modifications after all.

“Sounds about right.” She nodded. “I’m impressed you knew how to do that. Never seen that happen before.”

Hmm. Brag and impress the new recruit or… ahahahah. No. Not going to try that on with a woman who’s whole job is managing sweaty guys trying to look cool. I’m a weeb, not a moron.

“I’m afraid I had no idea, and lost track of your casting time in the heat of things. Going to chalk that up to a happy accident.”

That got a wry twist of the lips and a shallow nod. “Makes sense. I was wondering because usually spells just blow up when they interact. That kind of combination effect usually requires careful planning and the exact right spells.”

Yikes. Good to know.

“Thank you for the info. Do you think you could repeat that effect?”

“Yes… I believe so. The Tower is designed to cast the exact same spell over and over again, without any variation. Likewise, Final Revel is a very stable spell. It shouldn’t be difficult to match the timing.”

“Good! Good. Every extra weapon is useful.” Especially ones the Devs don’t know you know about. But I didn’t feel the need to mention that part. “Any idea about those exploding monsters?”

“What about them?”

“Ever seen them before?”

She gave me an unkind look. “Was that a joke?”

“No?”

“No, I haven’t seen the invisible monsters before.”

“Have you heard of them?”

“No. Those sorts of monsters… I have to imagine that not many people survived encountering them in the field. The-” She said a word that I couldn’t seem to hear properly. Like the word passed through my ears without making contact with my brain. “Would doubtless reserve them for infiltration and assassination purposes. Not throwing them into an assault like this. They must be part of the extermination force. Can’t imagine what they are doing here, honestly.”

“Sorry, I missed a word- someone is commanding these monsters?”

“Yes? Obviously? What, did you think they appear like mushrooms?”

“I don’t know any-damn-thing about these damned monsters! Who?! Who commands them? Where do they come from?”

“Young man, I will not be spoken to that way! Moderate your tone Sir, or leave!”

I held on to my temper with the ragged tips of my fingers. “Madame, do you know where these monsters are coming from?”

“No, of course I don’t.” She snapped, clearly losing her temper. “Nobody does!”

“Then how do you know they are being commanded?”

“Because we have seen, and on occasion even killed, their damned commanders!”

“No interrogation, no carefully hidden correspondence?”

“They die, instantly, when they are captured. They can talk. They tell people to surrender, that we can have easy deaths if we just give up. They lie. But they never, ever, say anything true, especially about themselves.”

“What. Are. They. Called?”

“They are called Dyn Hunllef, and were it to cost my very soul, I would gladly burn for an eternity to drag every one of them down to Hell with me!”

The words seemed to hammer past whatever blockage was in my ears, searing onto my brain. The knowledge hurt. Like I was ripping a stitch out of my skin. Like this was something I wasn’t supposed to know, or at least, not yet.

The sky cracked with thunder, slow clouds of flame rolling in.

Atrocity Mode: Activated.