Crumbling Novara
Ren could barely stay upright, his sword buried in the ground as his only support. His body screamed in protest, mana nearly drained.
The orc's massive weapon swung down with killing force—
Clang!
The impact sent Ren tumbling back, but the attack hadn't landed. Something had stopped it.
"Get up!" Arthur's voice cut through the chaos. His sword locked against the orc's crude blade, muscles straining under the force. He attempted to counter, but his strength wasn't enough—he was sent sprawling, barely dodging as the weapon crashed into the ground where he stood moments ago.
A blur streaked in.
Milo.
His daggers carved through the orc's Achilles tendon. The beast bellowed as its leg gave out, forced onto its knees.
Milo landed, his chest heaving. "I—I didn't think that would work!" He let out a breathless laugh.
Then the orc's massive hand slammed into him like a hammer.
Milo's body crumpled against the ground. The wind left his lungs in a choked gasp as he reached for his dagger—just inches out of reach.
"White Star!"
Ren swung his sword, firing off a star-shaped blast of frost. The freezing energy slammed into the orc, sending it hurtling backward through buildings.
He coughed. Blood speckled his palm.
"Shit," he hissed, trying to push himself up. His limbs felt like lead. "Get out of here! You're just getting in my way!"
Arthur's glare was sharp. "I didn't tell Milo to come! And you're the one who's getting beaten down!"
Ren grit his teeth. "You're not as strong as I am. Not like before!"
The rubble shifted. The orc rose again.
Not a single scratch.
Arthur's fingers tightened around his sword. His breath came faster, his vision narrowing. Better than me? No. I'll be better than you. I already am.
He shot forward, blade poised to strike. He aimed straight for the orc's chest—
The orc caught his sword mid-swing.
Then it threw him.
Arthur crashed to the ground, the impact rattling through his bones. He gasped for breath, his fingers twitching against the dirt.
Damn it! Why?! Why not me?!
He pushed himself onto one knee, eyes locking onto Ren and Milo. They were struggling, but they were fighting on his level.
Even Milo.
It was never like that before.
Something in his chest twisted.
Could it be—?
No.
He clenched his jaw.
I HATE IT!
Ren froze the orc's right hand. Milo blurred past, shattering the ice with a clean strike. The orc let out a roar of agony.
"Maybe this can work." Ren raised his blade. "Ice Shards."
Jagged spikes of ice rose from the ground behind him, glimmering in the fractured light.
Arthur's breath hitched. His body moved before he could think.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
He sprinted forward, faster than before, faster than ever.
Arthur's sword cleaved through the air, slicing deep into the orc's arm before it could react. Blood sprayed, hot against his skin.
The orc barely had time to snarl before Arthur was on it—
A second strike. Its left knee, severed.
A third. Its ribs, shattered.
The orc roared, swinging its club in desperation.
Arthur didn't dodge.
He moved through the attack.
A blur of steel. The orc's hand hit the ground, severed clean.
It howled, falling backward.
Arthur leapt.
His blade found the beast's throat.
A sickening crunch.
The orc's body collapsed, twitching.
Arthur stood over it, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths.
The fight had lasted seconds.
A pulse of raw mana erupted from Arthur, forcing Ren back a step. The sheer force sent cracks through the ground beneath him.
Ren steadied himself, eyes narrowing. "What the hell?"
Arthur's gaze locked onto him—piercing, unwavering. "Next time, you'll move before I tell you."
His sword pulsed with a strange radiance, like a void filled with stars. The glow faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Milo approached, sheathing his daggers. "That was so cool! Do you think you could teach me? I mean, I probably couldn't do it, but—"
"Can you stop talking?" Ren cut in, voice sharp.
Milo blinked. "Right."
Ren exhaled, adjusting his grip on his sword. "I'm leaving. No further orders were given, so I'm going to explore the area."
Arthur said nothing.
Milo hesitated, then jogged after Ren, placing a hand on his shoulder—only to realize his mistake and quickly pull away. "Sorry! I was just thinking… you're really exhausted. Maybe I should tag along? You know, in case something happens? And I kinda want to see you fight up close." He grinned.
Ren sighed, rolling his shoulders as he weighed the idea. His body was dangerously low on mana.
"Fine," he relented. "Only because I might not be able to handle another big threat alone."
Milo nearly squealed, barely containing his excitement. "Thank you! Uh, could I give you a hug—?"
"No."
"Oh. Yeah…" Milo laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Downtown Novara
Perched atop a high-rise, three figures overlooked the ruined city below.
"I already found it," Lyra said, adjusting her glasses. She popped her gum out of her mouth and flicked it into the wind. "Right before you called. I'll take care of it myself."
Reid scoffed, throwing up his hands. "Yourself? What about me? What about Elowen?" He gestured dramatically.
"You know what I meant, stupid." Lyra smacked his shoulder, then grabbed her binoculars and peered through them.
Her lips pressed into a firm line. "Yeah… just like Virgil said. No—more."
Reid crouched beside her, scanning the horizon. Even without the binoculars, the sheer size of the horde sent chills down his spine. "How many?"
"Three portals. And they're pouring out." Lyra lowered the binoculars, dropping them onto her bag.
Elowen shifted uncomfortably. "Where should I be?"
"Hold on, I'm thinking." Lyra closed her eyes, fingers pressing against her temple.
Reid grinned. "She used to do this a lot. It used to freak me out how accurately she could predict a fight."
Lyra opened her eyes, her expression sharp. "The horde isn't just mindless this time. It's structured. The rangers are in the backline—organized, covering the front with suppressing fire. The stronger ones are leading from the front, keeping the fighters in check."
She turned to Reid. "You're best at close-range combat. Push past the front line and tear apart the rangers before they can pick us off. I'll take on the heavy hitters, with Elowen boosting my strength." She smirked. "Sound good?"
Reid's eyes sparkled. "That was amazing! Bet I could've figured that out if I thought hard enough, too."
Lyra ignored him. "That being said, we're on a timer. I can't hold the front line for long—I'm a distraction more than anything. You're our main damage dealer."
"Got it. I'm ready."
And then—
He jumped.
"Wait—!"
Too late.
Reid plummeted from the rooftop, boots hitting the ground with a thud. His grin was unwavering as he cracked his knuckles.
"Idiot," Lyra muttered, vaulting after him. "Couldn't wait five seconds?"
Elowen followed hesitantly, gripping the strap of her staff. "He's going to get himself killed, isn't he?"
Lyra sighed. "Absolutely."
The ground shook as the blights charged.
Reid cracked his knuckles. "Alright. Let's do this."
A monstrous brute came first, all muscle and mass, its spiked club swinging down. Reid didn't move—he let it come.
Then, in an instant, he drove his fist upward.
The impact shattered the club into splinters. The force carried through, lifting the brute off its feet and sending it hurtling through the air. It crashed into another cluster of blights, caving in the street beneath them.
Lyra landed beside him, twirling her scythe. "Show-off."
Lyra spun forward, her scythe carving a tight arc as she danced between enemies. She was fast, her weapon lightweight but deadly. The blade bit deep into a blight's shoulder, but she didn't stop—she couldn't. A direct kill was too slow. Instead, she aimed to cripple.
Her hand flicked outward.
"Abyss Bind."
Dark tendrils erupted from the ground, coiling around a heavy hitter's limbs, locking it in place.
"Reid! Now!"
He didn't need to be told twice. He barreled forward, planting his foot and driving an elbow straight into the creature's skull. The thing's head snapped sideways with a sickening crunch before it slumped to the ground.
Lyra exhaled. "One down."
The next wave came.
Reid surged ahead. He didn't dodge—he didn't need to. A blight slashed for his ribs—he caught its arm mid-swing and ripped it clean off. Another lunged from behind—he pivoted, ducking low, before launching an uppercut into its gut, sending it flying into a nearby building.
Lyra, meanwhile, had to move carefully. She wasn't like Reid. She couldn't bulldoze through them. But she was fast, and she was smart.
She ducked under a swipe, spinning her scythe low to sweep the legs out from under a brute. The moment it hit the ground, she pressed her palm to the earth.
"Phantom Bloom."
A dark shockwave rippled outward. The moment the brute touched it, its body froze in place—just long enough for her to slice its head clean off.
Her muscles burned. She wasn't built for raw strength.
But she could adapt.
Reid tore through the battlefield, his fists moving faster than the eye could track. He struck with brutal precision—every hit sent shockwaves through the air, breaking bones, rupturing organs. A heavy hitter managed to grab him by the throat—only for Reid to flex, breaking its grip, before headbutting it so hard the creature collapsed in on itself.
Lyra saw an opening.
She sprinted toward a pack of rangers, too focused on Reid to notice her. She flung her scythe like a boomerang, the blade slicing through them before snapping back into her hands.
A blight tried to intercept her—
She smirked. "Specter Step."
She blinked out of existence—reappearing behind it in an instant.
One clean slash.
The heavy hitter fell.
Reid came to a stop, standing over a pile of broken bodies, breathing hard but grinning. "You keeping up?"
Lyra flipped her scythe onto her shoulder. "Please. I'm leading."
Then—
The ground trembled.
Lyra's stomach dropped.
Reid turned—
And saw it.
The figure standing behind the horde.
Tall. Cloaked in black armor. Eyes burning red.
Not a regular blight grunt.
Something worse.
It raised a hand.
A portal ripped open behind it—
And more stepped through.
Lyra's hands tightened around her scythe. "Oh… shit."
Reid exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His heart pounded.