「Status Update」
Location: Castle York (House Norwen)
Threat Level: Extreme
Active Hellschisms: Multiple
Order Presence: Strained
Available Resources: Depleting
Current Mission: Survive and Contain the Rift
Orien Majere knew something was wrong even before the alarm horns sounded. He stood on the eastern wall of Castle York just after dawn, hands resting on cold stone. A hush had settled outside. No birds called, no wind stirred. He caught a glimpse of a far horizon stained in dark crimson. Clouds twisted unnaturally, sliding across the sky in patterns that should not exist. Red light bled into the world, staining the fields and broken barns below. He felt a tremor through the stone beneath his feet, as if something beneath the earth rumbled with hunger.
Sir Alden rushed up the steps, helm under one arm. "Orien!" he shouted, breath tight. "The scouts—some never returned. Chigan's messengers saw lights out west. Now this…" He pointed skyward.
Orien pressed his palm to the parapet. His talisman felt hot against his hip. He reached inward, testing the currents of mana. Where once he sensed gentle flows, now chaos boiled, coiled, and spat sparks across his nerves. He winced. "A rift—no, more than one. Something big."
A screech cut him off. A guard along the north tower cried out, pointing. Orien followed that trembling finger. The horizon split open. Far in the distance, a vertical slash of blazing red tore through the air itself. He had seen smaller Hellschisms before, thin cracks that spat forth a few twisted creatures. This one dwarfed them all, spanning a wide stretch of sky, edges dripping crimson sparks. The very light around it bent, making the fields shimmer and distort.
A horn blast rang out from below. Corene shouted commands in the courtyard. Guards grabbed spears, archers fumbled to line the walls. From the corner of his eye, Orien spotted Eldric rushing to secure a coil of rope near a ballista. The squire's face held open fear, but his hands moved quickly, remembering lessons learned too soon.
Alden hissed through clenched teeth. "If that rift is as large as it looks…"
Orien nodded grimly. Smaller seals and wards might buy time, but this was beyond simple measures. He concentrated, reaching for a spell. The air crackled with resistance. Whatever force opened this monstrous tear wanted them vulnerable. He glanced downward, across the yard. Meraine's scouts from Chigan had lingered overnight. They stood near their horses, staring at the sky, gripping reins as the animals whinnied and jerked.
Shouts drew Orien's gaze westward. Another line of red tore open there. Then a third, to the south. Multiple Hellschisms, each feeding off the other's energy. The sky glowed like hot iron. Panic flared in the courtyard as more horns sounded. Arrows rattled in quivers. Retainers rushed to bar doors and drag out old crates of salvage.
Then it began. The first wave of demons poured from the eastern rift. Orien saw them spill through like insects from a broken hive. Winged shapes soared into the reddened sky, screeching. Heavy-limbed brutes dropped to the ground with thuds that shook the earth. Smaller creatures skittered forward, twisted bodies glistening with unnatural fluids. They advanced as a mass, shrieking, gnashing.
Corene's voice rang out from below: "Archers, ready!" A line of bows lifted. Quivers rattled. "Loose!" A storm of arrows rose, arcing toward the gathering swarm. Some struck home, felling a handful of the creatures. But more crawled over their fallen, surging in hideous waves. The ground trembled under their weight.
On the wall beside Orien, Alden donned his helm. "We hold, Majere. Any trick you have—use it."
Orien flexed his fingers, feeling mana buck like a wild beast. He conjured a spell: 『Cinder Spear』. It formed slowly, sparks dripping from his fingertips. He hurled it at a mass of horrors clustering near a broken fence line. The bolt struck, setting several ablaze. They shrieked and flailed, writhing against scorched earth. For a moment, a gap opened in their ranks.
The defenders cheered—too soon. More demons pushed through. A towering shape lumbered from behind them, easily twelve feet tall, hunched and barbed. Its head bore no eyes, only a gaping maw filled with rotating teeth. Arrows struck its hide and broke. It lumbered toward the outer ditch like a battering ram made of flesh.
Orien cursed under his breath. He reached for another spell, but the pressure of the red sky made it hard to focus. He forced calm. He had sealed rifts before. This was just larger and meaner. He channeled a steadier flame: 『Blazing Mark』. He etched a sigil in the air, then cast it onto the giant brute. The mark flared on the beast's chest. Now archers knew where to aim for a weaker spot.
A hail of arrows descended, focusing on that glowing target. Most bounced off, but a few pierced deeper, drawing thick, black ichor. The brute roared. It stumbled, tearing up chunks of earth, lobbing them at the walls. A sodden mass of dirt and roots soared over Orien's head, smashing into the walkway behind him, knocking a guard flat.
From the courtyard, Corene's unit wheeled out a pair of ballistae they had repaired months ago. The wheels squeaked, wood groaning. The crew cranked a long iron-tipped bolt into place. "Fire!" Corene shouted. The bolt flew, whistling, and slammed into the brute's chest. The creature staggered, tried to pull the bolt free. Another bolt followed, striking lower. With a final shriek, it toppled, crushing a cluster of smaller demons beneath its bulk.
A small victory, but no time to celebrate. More horrors poured through all three visible rifts. Orien watched as twisted winged fiends peppered the air, diving at the walls. Guards swung swords overhead or jabbed with spears at anything that got too close. Some fiends spat acid. A scream rose as a guard's face melted under a vile spray, helmet clattering to the stones. Another guard stepped up, shield raised, holding the line. The walls rattled with the fury of impacts.
Meraine's voice drifted through the chaos: "Chigan scouts! Form up by that western flank!" Orien glimpsed them taking positions, short spears at the ready, one scribe trying to draw a runic ward on a hastily placed plank. They had learned well, but these were desperate times.
Below, Eldric helped a retainer carry a bucket of resin and paint. Orien saw them attempt a quick rune on the inner gate hinge. Smart. If a demon broke through, at least the gate might hold a moment longer. Eldric's hands shook, but he drew steady lines. Orien hurled another flame spear at a cluster of demons threatening the gate, granting the squire precious seconds to finish.
A shadow passed overhead. Orien looked up. A winged demon, larger than the others, circled above. It had a long neck and a beaklike maw lined with needle teeth. With a shrill cry, it folded its wings and dove at Orien's section of the wall. Alden shouted a warning. Orien ducked as talons raked the stones. The creature tried to snatch him. He rolled aside, summoning a burst of flame that licked at its feathers. It shrieked and pulled up, only to twist around for another pass.
Alden stepped forward, shield raised. As the creature dove again, Alden timed a brutal sword thrust into its belly. Black fluids spilled, and the beast crashed onto the walkway, flailing. Orien leapt forward, planting a boot on its neck, and sent a jet of flame into its skull, silencing it.
The roar of battle thickened. More screams, more roaring fiends. From the eastern rift, Orien saw strange shapes slither forth—like centipedes the size of horses, each segment lined with claws. They crawled over the carcasses of fallen demons, swarming toward the walls. He heard Corene shouting for oil. Retainers rushed out clay pots of crude pitch. Arrows tipped with burning rags rained down, igniting the oil as it poured over the edge. Centipedes twisted in agony, but more kept coming.
On the west flank, he caught sight of Meraine's banner. A line of Chigan scouts fought side by side with Norwen guards, stabbing at wolf-headed fiends that howled and snapped. The alliance held, at least for now, but the rifts kept spewing forth horrors as if no end existed.
The sky darkened further, red deepening to a bruised hue. Lightning flickered inside the largest rift. Orien's heart sank. A second wave, larger perhaps, might follow. He had to do something more. Defending the walls would not suffice. This was no normal Hellschism. Something intended to pour an army through. Unless the source was addressed, they'd fall beneath sheer numbers.
He remembered old spells from another life, methods to stitch reality closed at its source, but from outside it was nearly impossible. They needed a direct confrontation inside the rift itself—a suicidal thought. Still, if he didn't try, everyone would die here.
A deafening crack rattled the stones. The brute they killed was replaced by another, even larger monstrosity dragging itself through red air. It had too many arms, each ending in hooks. Its head sported a single, massive horn. Arrows struck it without slowing it down. Ballista bolts sank in, but it kept advancing, roaring a guttural challenge.
Alden cursed. "Majere! We can't hold forever!"
Orien nodded grimly. He waved a guard over—a trembling young man who held a spare quiver. "Find Corene. Tell her we must consider a strike inside the rift. I'll try to lead a small team in, close it from within."
The guard's eyes bulged. "Inside? You can't mean that!"
"Go!" Orien snapped. The guard ran, stumbling over debris. Orien looked at Alden. "We can't just shoot arrows at infinity. We must cut off their source."
Alden hesitated, then gave a grim nod. "If anyone can, it's you. We'll hold as long as we can. Once inside, do what you must."
Orien leaned over the rampart, hurling another flame spell at a cluster of demons gathering at the moat. Some shrank back as fire seared their hides. The big horned monster reached the ditch, scooping up earth and tossing it aside. Walls trembled as it slammed massive fists against stone.
Corene arrived, ducking beneath a broken parapet. Her armor bore splashes of black gore. "You want to go inside that thing?" She pointed at the largest rift.
"Staying here will mean slow death," Orien said. "I know sealing rites, but they won't hold from outside. I must find the heart of this rift."
She looked at him as if he were mad. Then a resigned grimace twisted her features. "You'll need a path cleared. The demons flood every approach."
Orien scanned the field. They were surrounded, but maybe if a team pushed toward the nearest rift, he could slip inside. He spotted a break in the demons near the old orchard ruins to the east. If they could carve a path, maybe he could reach the rift's base, where reality tore like cloth.
"I'll take Eldric and a handful of volunteers," Orien said. "We'll go through the eastern postern gate. It's smaller. If we can punch through the lesser fiends, I can get close enough to the rift and enter."
Alden's mouth tightened. "Eldric's green, but he trusts you. I'll send Osric as well. Harren too, if he's still alive." He peered over the wall. Harren's crossbow crew had taken shelter behind a collapsed cart, firing bolts into winged fiends overhead. Still alive, good.
Corene touched Orien's arm. "You sure this isn't suicide?"
He swallowed. "If I can seal it from inside, we survive. If not…" He left the rest unsaid. They understood.
Corene nodded and jogged off, barking orders. Moments later, Eldric emerged from a smoky stairwell, face streaked with soot. "You need me?"
Orien smiled grimly. "We're going in."
Eldric's lips parted, fear plain, but he nodded. He checked the dagger at his belt, the small brush and paint vial in his pouch. No words needed.
Osric climbed over a heap of rubble to join them, sword already stained black. "I'm with you." His voice shook slightly, but his eyes were steady.
Harren followed, crossbow on his shoulder. "Madness, all of this. But I'll go." He spat on the stones, glaring at the swarms below.
Meraine limped up, one arm bound. She had taken a hit earlier. "I heard. You're going inside that nightmare?" When Orien nodded, she offered a bloodstained cloth. "Wrap this around your face. The air in there might be foul. If I can't go with you, at least take something from us." She gave a sad smile. "My scouts will hold the west flank. Stop this if you can."
Orien accepted the cloth gratefully. "Your people fought bravely. Thank you."
Meraine backed away, returning to her position. The courtyard now looked like a war zone. Bodies of demons and humans littered the ground. Smoke rose from burning pitch, and cries for medics mixed with demonic snarls.
Alden and Corene led Orien's small team down a cramped stairwell to the postern gate—an old door set in the eastern wall. They forced it open, revealing a scene of horror outside. The field churned with demons tearing at earth, trying to undermine the walls. A pack of twisted hound-like fiends sniffed the air. If Orien's group stepped out, they'd be spotted at once.
Corene handed Orien a small flask of oil and a rag. "To set any last wards you need."
Orien tucked it away. "We make a break for that orchard," he said quietly. "From there, I see a direct line to the rift's base. It's lower than I expected, like a curtain of torn light near the ground."
Alden peered through a gap. "We'll draw attention. You'll have no time for subtlety."
Orien nodded. "We strike hard and run. Keep moving. No heroics. Our goal is the rift."
They waited as a group of spined demons passed by. Then Corene opened the gate a fraction. Harren slipped out first, crossbow up. He fired a bolt into the skull of a hound-fiend. It dropped silently. The others jerked, confused.
Osric dashed out, sword flashing. He cut down a smaller fiend that lunged at him. Eldric followed behind Orien, clutching a spear he found. They moved fast, trampling over scorched ground, heads low. Corene and Alden stayed at the gate, covering them with arrows and shouts. They could not spare more fighters. Every blade was needed on the walls.
As the small team moved away from the castle, demons noticed. A shrill cry went up. Soon they were pursued by a knot of leaping horrors. Orien hurled a quick spell to buy space. Fire washed over a trio of lanky creatures, sending them shrieking. Harren reloaded on the run, firing at a fiend that tried to flank them.
A mound of twisted roots marked the orchard's edge. Once, apple trees grew here. Now only charred stumps remained. The red sky cast twisted shadows, making it hard to judge distance. Osric slashed at a fiend that sprang from behind a stump. Eldric thrust his spear awkwardly, grazing another creature's flank. Black fluid sprayed, and the fiend hissed.
"Keep moving!" Orien shouted. He could see the rift clearly now, maybe a hundred paces away. It hovered a few feet off the ground, a vertical slit taller than two men. Inside it, he glimpsed only darkness and swirling red light. Demons poured from its edges, stumbling into this world. If he could get beneath it, maybe he could anchor a sealing spell. But it would require stepping through to the other side, a risk he had never taken.
Harren cried out. A winged demon dived at him. He dodged, clubbed it with his crossbow stock. Orien flung a spark of flame, driving it back. They pressed on, leaving wounded fiends behind.
But their progress slowed. More demons blocked the way. Some bore jagged weapons of bone. Others stood hunched, drooling acid that sizzled on stones. Orien's heart pounded. He had to break through.
"Eldric, the runes!" Orien shouted, handing him the oil flask and rag. "On that fallen beam. Make them slip. Buy us space!"
Eldric nodded, crouching by a fallen tree beam. He smeared oil and scratched a simple mark with a knife tip. Orien touched the mark, injecting a spark of mana. When fiends rushed over the beam, they lost footing, tumbling into each other. Harren and Osric cut them down quickly, grunting with effort.
It worked. They gained a dozen paces closer to the rift. But now the ground itself cracked. Lava-like fluid seeped through fissures, belching foul smoke. The heat made Orien's eyes sting. He wrapped Meraine's cloth around his face, blinking sweat away. He had to go on.
A shriek behind them: a massive demon with three heads, each snapping at empty air. It swung a limb tipped with claws at Osric. The soldier raised his shield, was hurled back, winded. Harren fired a bolt into its side, distracting it. Eldric thrust his spear at its flank. The creature howled, turning on Eldric. Orien gathered a larger spell: 『Cinder Spear』, bigger than before. He released it with a roar. The bolt of flame smashed into the demon's chest, charring flesh. It staggered, giving Osric time to stand and slash at its knees. The beast toppled, wailing.
No time to rest. Orien saw the rift twenty paces ahead now. The heat pulsed from it. He sensed raw power inside that tear. More demons lurched forth, some stumbling as if half-born of nightmares. If he entered, who knew what lay beyond? Could he close it from inside, or would he vanish forever?
Harren put a hand on Orien's shoulder. "We got you here, mage. Now what?"
Orien steadied his voice. "I must go in."
Eldric's eyes widened. "Inside that thing?"
Orien nodded grimly. "I can't seal it from here. I need to disrupt its anchor in the other realm."
Osric looked around, sweat carving clean lines on his soot-stained face. "We'll go with you."
Orien shook his head. "You wouldn't survive. I barely know if I will. Hold them off out here, keep the entrance clear if I must return."
Harren reloaded, jaw clenched. "You expect to come back?"
"Hope so," Orien said. He placed a hand on Eldric's shoulder. "Your runes, your courage—they got me this far. Believe in that. If I fail, warn the castle, tell them to retreat." He turned to Osric and Harren. "You're both skilled. Together, you can hold a small perimeter. Don't do anything foolish. If too many come, fall back."
Eldric's eyes were misty. "But—"
Orien gave him a hard look. "I must try. Without this, everyone dies." Eldric swallowed and nodded, stepping back.
The rift crackled, spitting sparks. More demons crawled out, but at least now Orien stood within arm's reach of the tear. He threw a flame spell at a demon's face, making it reel. Harren stabbed another in the gut. Osric and Eldric formed a small line, weapons ready.
Orien took a deep breath. The red sky thundered overhead, lightning flickering inside the rift's edges. He could feel the pull, a gravity of evil drawing him. He steadied his heart. He had done many brave deeds before, but nothing like this.
He stepped closer. The rift hummed, distorting sound and light. On the other side lay unknown horrors, maybe the source of all these fiends. If he could find the anchor and break it, maybe the rifts would collapse.
A demon lunged at him. He blasted it aside with a burst of flame, feeling his mana drain. Another demon tried to flank him. Eldric speared it in the leg, Osric finished it off. Harren shouted, "Go, Majere! We can't hold forever!"
Orien clenched his teeth and reached out with one hand. The surface of the rift felt like oily glass. He pressed against it. It resisted. He pushed harder, channeling a hint of mana to slip through. The barrier yielded, a tearing sensation passing through his arm.
He glanced back one last time at Eldric's frightened eyes, at Harren's grim nod, at Osric's firm stance. Smoke and screams filled the air. Behind them, Castle York's silhouette rose against crimson gloom. He must protect them all.
Orien drew a breath and stepped forward, plunging into the rift. Reality warped around him, red and black swirls of chaos engulfing his vision. He felt himself stretched and compressed, as if he drifted between worlds. The screaming outside faded, replaced by a hollow roar. He did not know what awaited him inside this realm of demons, but he had chosen this path.
The last thing Eldric saw was Orien's form swallowed by crimson light. The final image Orien carried was his allies locked in fierce struggle, holding back hordes on a dying field.
The chapter ended with Orien gone, vanished inside the Hellrift, leaving a battlefield drowned in screams and blood under a torn, red sky.