1


    A week later they were called into the throne room, just them and the lord. The old Unigardian sat on his throne; he didn’t fit as well as he should have, and Cammo imagined that he had grown out of the thing. But that depressing thought was derailed when he noticed the creature on its knees behind him, its frightening head facing forward right over the old lord—a wrath. Satan, the High Warden of Hell, claimed that the seven demons that would escape and wreak havoc were just accidents, that he had no hand in what they did or where they went, that it wasn’t his fault… Cammo traveled to Hell once and saw the Demon Lord himself… Just one look was all it took to convince the emp that it was a lie.


    Cammo shivered as the moon-man’s face visited his mind again. “What a beast…”


    “It’s huge…” Locine muttered, looking at it in wonder. “I’ve never seen a demon before.”


    “Are they all that big?” the tousk, whose name was Wuytr, asked. He carried a double-headed war-axe across his back, the blades hanging near the back of his head, the pole reaching to his knees. Cammo had spoken to him and came to the conclusion that he was the average tousk—big, strong, free, proud, and stupid. The raw furs and hides of beasts hung loosely off his body, his dull-red skin even duller with the lack of light the throne room provided.


    “No… This one’s almost two times bigger than a normal wrath…” Slogine said, even his snake eyes glued to the beast kneeling over Lord Joolian. “This thing… this thing could crush boulders by the looks of it.”


    The moon-man wasn’t wrong. Both of its rough hands, plagued with callouses, rested in fists straight down on either side of Joolian’s throne, rippling muscles lined its naked arms and back, bulging veins following along its black skin. The only body hair on its ugly form collected on the groin, hiding whatever disgusting thing lay beneath. An ape-like head sat on its thick neck, stuck in a never-ending snarl that showcased some of the sharpest and most jagged rows of teeth any of them had ever seen. Nostrils like the barrels of a cannon sat on the end of its wide, long snout, its small red eyes facing forward and piercing their hearts, hiding just under its prominent brow. Short, pointy ears locked to the sides of the naked oval shape of its head, and Cammo needed to remind himself that it was dead. It was impressive, threatening, and seemed ready to stand and walk straight out of the large and empty room it’d been relegated to for decades—but it was dead. It was an impressive trophy and that was all it was.


    Still… the emp felt a feeling of strange danger start to flood his mind… He walked over to his companion and pulled him down by the shoulder, positioning his face near the little hole Slogine called an ear. “Be on guard,” he whispered. “I’m getting a bad feeling…”


    “I got one too,” Locine said, her face close to his again.


    Cammo didn’t flinch this time. “Slogine?”


    “Me too, boss,” the snake man said. “Maybe it’s just the corpse… I can’t help but feel on edge just looking at it.”


    Cammo looked at the thing. “Maybe… Locine?”


    “Yeah?” she said.


    “Keep close,” Cammo ordered.


    Locine stared at him blankly for only a moment before nodding. “That’s the plan then.”


    It took the tall emp another moment to realize why he felt such unease, why he requested the woman to hang by… It was a gut feeling that said, We’re being watched. His red eyes scanned the dark ceiling and corners briefly, searching for… he didn’t even know. He saw nothing. “You,” he said, looking at Lord Joolian. “What’s with the demon?”


    For the first time in their company the old man smiled. “Magnificent, isn’t he? I killed him myself when I was a young man… I’m too old for magic now—or maybe I’ve just let myself go? In any case, he was causing some trouble, so I took care of him.”


    “You sound a lot quicker,” another Unigardian—one of two brothers, Cammo found out—said.


    “Oh yes, I’ve had coffee,” said the old lord.


    “Is that what that was…?”


    “Yes, I can’t afford to be asleep now, at the end of this whole ordeal. You all deserve an explanation you could understand,” Lord Joolian said. “Is everyone ready?”


    Some said yes and others nodded. They were ready for what he was about to say, yes—but they weren’t ready for what would come after…


    2


    “All of you are whole,” he began. “By that I mean, you all can have children… And none of you took this path out of negligence. The Guerrieros rule the world, and that rule puts all of you in danger. It puts whatever children you may choose to have, whatever person you choose to have them with, in that same danger.” His proud smile faded as a cold seriousness replaced it. “I may be a lord, but I’ve never been good at politics… I’ve never been able to wrench power from another''s hands; that’s why I’ve been relegated to this ill visited valley, in this lonely castle. I thought at first, I’d be able to protect the children I did have after the tax better than others… I was wrong. I was left with one son… My lady wife died having him. And she died because she already had six before.


    “The people who stole my babies away were never brought to justice… And do any of you know why? It’s because the Guerrieros don’t care where the children come from. Whether the child of a criminal or high-born, they just want the child… Do any of you remember your parents? Were they good to you? Did you even have parents? Did you live the start of your life alone, only to discover the mana in your blood after casting your first spell? Some of you have…”


    Locine’s eyes grew a little sad. She’s one, right there, Cammo thought. And so am I.


    “And then you were cast out from where you stayed, condemned to live alone or as a liar… That’s the life the men with black eyes have left for us. Even Unigard, the most powerful nation in the world (all of you can admit), can not contend with that disgusting scourge,” he explained, balling up a fist upon the arm of his throne. “But so what, then? What happens when the greatest army in the world fails to challenge them? Nothing! We are being exterminated!” He stood up, leaving his cane. “And it is not the overt destruction the slikes faced! Nor Unigards crusade against the Snow-roaches! It is a slow, painful holocaust of everything we are and everything we continue to be! It is the destruction of wizard-folk! It is our erasure!”


    “Right!” Wuytr agreed, looking hot.


    “For the sake of ourselves, those we will love or have loved, and for the sake of the future generation, we must stand!” Lord Joolian screamed. “WE WILL TEAR OUT THEIR EVIL EYES!”


    “YEAH!” the two Unigardian brothers yeah in unison. They were all getting hot.


    Joolian gave them a wide smile and closed his eyes, letting out one long breath before opening them back up again, seeming calm. “But now it’s just us. ‘We’ extends to far more than just this room…”


    “You’re a Gouger,” Cammo said, everything that transpired over the last two months making sense. They were the stuff of legends—no! They were legends. Tales to tell your children just before snuffing out the candle… But the moment that possibility entered the mind of that pragmatic emp, it all seemed clear. Lord Joolian, head of House Itlid, is a Gouger…


    Everyone turned to him for a moment before turning back to the dark-skinned cappella, the one who was nodding. “There is no money. If there was, paying even you lot would leave me flat broke. It was a lie I am sorry for telling… But if you join, you will be taken care of. Your children would be taken care of. For that is our one true goal: our children should not be condemned to lives of fear from the moment they come into life.”


    The fact that the thousand pieces of gold was nothing more than a ruse was the least of the emp''s worries. The price for this kind of ultimate treason… was death for all. For the families, for the friends of the families, and the villages they lived in. It meant the destruction of this castle and the razing of the valley. It meant that even this old man’s son—someone who probably had nothing to do with it, someone who probably had a son themselves—would suffer the consequences of his father’s rebellion. It meant suicide.


    The room was still, everyone who was hot had gone cold.


    “I’ll join,” Locine stated.


    Now it was her they focused on, surprising even the old man that offered the position, but they all looked towards him again when he started to laugh. “No. I don’t decide that…”


    She, like all the others, looked confused.


    “If an old man like me decided who became Gougers, then the rebellion would’ve collapsed years ago,” he explained. “This is the starting line… From here, I’d send you off to yet another place where you’d be tested, and they’d send you to another… That’s how we keep ourselves so hidden—how we stay legends. Even me, a ‘lord’, is nothing but a recruiter.”


    “Are they true?” Slogine asked. “The stories about Oasis?”


    Cammo wanted to know too, about the one place it was safe for them: another legend.


    “That’s the real prize, isn’t it?” Lord Joolian said, grinning. “That’s not for me to reveal, and even if I wanted to, I don’t really know… My child is grown, after all. And I’m just a simple recruiter.” He fell back onto his throne. “You all understand the dangers… Make your choice for the final time. I will have to ask those who decline not to speak of this… for obvious reasons… Think about it amongst yourselves. But the choice is to be made now. Right now. In this room.”


    The tousk backed up and leaned into one of the many pillars holding up the high ceiling, the brothers came together on the opposite column of smooth stone, Cammo and Slogine huddled together, and Locine sat on the stony steps that led up to the menacing throne.


    This is the chance. The choice that sends a person''s life down one path or another, Cammo remembered. That’s exactly right, girl…


    His friend looked at him with the same stony expression he used two months prior, when staying or going was still their choice to make—in a way, it still was. “What are we doing, boss?”


    And Cammo thought about it hard, but it didn’t take long to come to a conclusion. It was something he thought about a lot… It was a story his father told him even after the longest days in the brewery. It was something he dreamt about. Cammo Wurl opened his mouth to answer—


    “It doesn’t matter what you decide,” someone above them said, their voice echoing through the empty hall, almost like that of a ghost. “You’re all gonna die anyway.”


    3


    Everybody shot up, all staring at the crevices above for the source, each one gripping their weapons in anticipation. Lord Joolian rose again with a grave expression, using his cane to support himself; there was no strength in him now. It was deathly quiet.


    “Who’s there?!” he yelled; the terror palpable. “This is a private meeting!”


    “Girl, Slogine…” Cammo whispered, both cocking their heads a little closer with eyes focused on the ceiling. “Stick tight.”


    They gave him a small nod and stuck a little closer, Slogine holding the handle of his wavy great-sword and Locine opening a small pouch from her pocket.


    “Oops!” the voice, one that Cammo could tell now was female, muttered. “Dropped something…”


    Sir Wulter’s head fell from the dark, his skull cracking on the barren stone and rolling over… It was a fresh kill and blood was still spilling from the stump.


    Oh, fuck… Cammo thought.


    Every wizard—and Slogine—apart from the old lord erupted in their own Glow’s, filling the shadows by them in a flash of color, but none reaching the upside-down sea of black above.


    “You…!” Joolian started, tearing his eyes from his knight back up to where it fell from. “You fool! You think yourself at an advantage?! It’s six versus one!” There was rage in him. “You’ll never leave this room alive!”


    “Why’d I come alone if I didn’t think I could handle it alone?” the voice asked casually. “You pissed me off, old man! You rejected me, so I needed to sneak around and shit… It was a fucking pain!”


    “Who were you?!” he called out. There were a number of female candidates, Locine being the only one to pass.


    “The one who died.”


    The group stood together at the far side near the throne and corpse, almost fifty feet of barren stone between them and the large red doors that blocked them from the rest of the castle; that’s where the intruder dropped. Her Glow was a light green with a thickness of about four inches, appearing in the middle of her quick descent, allowing her to twist her body mid-air and land from the tall ceiling nimbly into a crouch.


    When she stood up everyone could immediately tell that she was beautiful, even if they didn’t even know what she was. All they knew was that she was a hybrid. She had a slim frame, but Cammo tell her body was trained; her straight, night-black hair hung down to the middle of her back; and her smooth, light-red skin looked like that of a ripe fruit… And her clothing was just as eye-catching, wearing a black skin-tight onesie stopping at her shoulders and the beginning of her thighs, and it did not leave a lot to the imagination. Her face was slightly skinny, her plump lips closed together in the shape of a heart, and her eyes slanted slightly—that''s what they noticed first above all else. They were black, the solid and dark circles sitting in the middle of the whites of her eyes, watching the group of wizards with amusement. Cammo was looking at a Princess of Darkness in the flesh. She put her hands on her hips and studied them for a moment.


    “Okay,” she began, “you, the emp.”


    “Me?” Locine asked, confused yet guarded.


    “Not you,” the woman muttered, annoyed. “The man.”


    Cammo unsheathed his wide and heavy blade and slid on his fetish. “What do you want, Guerriero?”


    “You’re pretty cute,” she said calmly. “If you don’t put up a fight, I won’t hurt you. But if you do… I can’t guarantee I’d be able to hold back…”


    The emp narrowed his eyes but didn’t say a word. No one said a word.


    “Well…” she said, “come on. Wasn’t it six versus one? I don’t have all night…”


    “She’s right,” Joolian said. “If she escapes alive, then all is lost… Take her!”


    “Yeah,” she agreed, an amused grin forming. “Take me… I dare you.”


    Wuytr was the first to charge, taking the giant axe on his back and holding it far behind him on his right side, his thick orange Glow flaring as he screamed. The brothers followed after with two-handed iron clubs, their Glows of red and blue separating on either side of the tousk’s, letting out battle-cries.


    “The corpse!” Cammo yelled to his Slogine.


    The moon-man caught the message and turned to the lord. “Did you stuff it wax or submerge it?!” The cheaper way of keeping a corpse appealing was orthodox taxidermy—wax, wood, cloth to fill the corpse—but the more popular, yet expensive, option was to submerge the fresh body in a mix of heart-fruit essence and other juices to seal its wounds and suck the moisture from deep within.


    “I submerged the thing!” Lord Joolian yelled. “What’s that matter now?!”


    The moon-man nodded and opened his mouth, opening a path for the fleshy cannon under his tongue to do its work, and shot a tar-like slug into the corpse''s maw!


    “Oh, Nia!” the old man screamed, falling forwards as the long-time decoration started to stand.


    Locine caught him and grabbed his cane, trying to usher him away. “We’ll take care of this, lord! You have to get to safety!”


    The old cappella nodded with eyes so wide, they might have been an emps.


    “Alright!” Slogine screamed, turning back to the Guerriero. “Sick ‘em, Evil Dead!”


    The demon of rage and hate, standing tall at twenty-five feet of pure muscle, jumped over their heads and charged. Its massive arms cracked the stone like a sheet of ice, using the powerful limbs to propel its body and legs forward as it sprinted on all fours.


    Wuytr made it to the woman and slammed the sharp blade into her waist, hoping to cut her in two before the hybrid could unleash any magic upon them. And for a moment, to everyone''s momentary relief, it seemed like the tousk succeeded.


    But there was no blood.


    “Wow, now this’ll be interesting…” she said, a quiet joy in her voice. Her body softened and spread like a cloud, a luminescent green light accompanying the fog as it recombined with its lower half. “Possesso: a spell that allows me to possess any corpse and hop bodies if need be… Attacks like that won’t do shit, meat-head.”


    “You whore!” the tousk yelled, frustrated, swinging his axe in and out of the gas without resistance. “Fight me!”


    “No!” Slogine screamed, understanding his dire mistake. “Evil Dead, get back here!”


    “Sorry,” the cloud muttered, rising above the trio of her first attackers. The wrath dug its rough black hands into the stone and stopped himself, starting to turn back. “But it’s too late for that.”


    She flew forwards, looping around the demon’s head to its front and flung herself inside.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    4


    It was as quiet as it had been when they first entered the lonely expanse that constituted the lord’s throne room, but the kind of quiet that filled the castle walls was not of curious anticipation; it was fear. Every wizard (and moon-man) held their breath and kept a watchful eye on the fallen corpse sitting between them, a cold sweat gliding down their clammy skin as their Glow’s held steady…


    That was a bad move by us, Cammo thought, pointing his sword at the fallen giant. If she took over the corpse (which I’m sure was her plan), then we might’ve been able to take out the body—might. But Slogine popped a slug in the thing, not that he could have known this would happen… And we might’ve accidentally made her invincible by trying to kill her.


    That nasty thought was based on both pessimistic assumptions and hard facts, the worst combination if they were right. The slug was a product of Slogine’s body, yes, but it also had a mind of its own. It was Evil Dead, the spell, that kept it in check… But that was the question: who ordered the slug now? Was it Slogine? Was it the Guerriero? Or was it the black mollusk burrowing deep inside the flesh of the demon, bringing life to its host? If it was the moon-man, then it was time to celebrate! If it was anything else…


    “Evil Dead!” Slogine shouted. “Stay down! Stay down and don’t get back up! I command you!”


    That’s what would decide it, they all knew. If the command was followed, then all would be good.


    “Sorry for the second time…” a deep and raspy voice muttered, coming from the corpse. Its right palm flattened against the stone. “But you’ve fucked up bad.” The demon’s elbow slowly inclined straight up and the soul inside commanded the flesh to pushed itself up, followed by similar demands of its other limbs until it stood again. “This body… it’s BURSTING with strength! Whatever you did to it, snake-man, thank you! This’ll make it much easier… Not that it’s a very attractive form…” Its lips peeled back into a smile ten times more hideous than Slogine’s. “Isn’t that funny though? I had no idea that a big brute like this was capable of speech… Guess their brains weren’t developed or something…” It placed its rough hands on its hips and looked at either side of the room, sending more than a chill down their spines as its beady, red eyes passed over them. It turned back to the throne, back to Cammo. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, I’m just gonna send for you after.”


    “What?” Cammo asked, hiding his fear behind rage. Sir Wulter wasn’t someone he liked or even respected… but he was decent enough and, as far as he knew, innocent. If Cammo was capable he’d make sure she’d pay.


    “Your friends can escape, mostly because I don’t remember their names… But you, I’ll send someone to collect you for me, Cammo,” it explained, facing the other three near the large red doors. They raised their weapons half-heartedly and one of the brothers dry swallowed. “You guys, though… You ain’t so lucky. None of you are handsome at all…”


    “I-I give up!” the younger Unigardian said, throwing his smooth iron club to the stone. “We surrender!”


    “Bro…” the other cappella muttered, a look of sadness crossing his face before being replaced by resolve. “Get out of here then… Don’t you know what happens against criminals who commit high treason like this?”


    “But we didn’t do anything!” he contended, falling to his knees. “She’s got to understand that, right?! I wasn’t even gonna join him, I swear! Honest!”


    “You coward!” Wuytr said. The tousk turned back to the undead demon and began to approach. “You may be big but I’ve killed bigger… You coming, cappella?”


    The older of the two looked at his brother one final time, and turned back to the tousk. “Yeah, I’m here.”


    “Good,” the tousk stated, striding forwards. The demon walked casually, its thick arms swaying to keep itself from tipping over. “I named my spell, Hiopsititoit. It means ‘to spin fast’ in touskan…” He held the head of his weapon close to his face and removed a long segment of dark wood. “Hiopsititoit: anything I touch less than three feet in length spins in the direction of my choosing…” He tapped the blade with one finger, turning the static metal into a circular blur that slid in and out of the gap in its handle. A high-pitched whir from the wind came along with it. “What can you do, cappella?”


    At this point there was about twenty feet between them and the beast, but each second that passed shortened the distance. The ones near the throne could only watch with weapons drawn, Locine and the old man waiting near one of the small gates near the back to see what might happen next.


    “I can make things long, fast,” the Unigardian explained. “Graff Days, I call it.”


    “Is it deadly?”


    “It gets the job done…” the Unigardian said.


    “It doesn’t sound useful,” the demon commented. “Well, both of your spells sound pretty lame… But I won’t judge, I’ve seen lamer.”


    The older one of the brothers glanced back. “No, you’re right, it is lame…” He caught up to the tousk and placed one hand on the shaft of his axe, his back to his new partner. “But like I said, it gets the job done…”


    The handle lengthened with the speed of a crossbow bolt, the spinning blade at the end cutting the demon''s throat in a spray of black blood! The thing fell backwards, and the handle shortened, the saw clean as it violently threw the juices of its attack into a fine mist.


    Wuytr grinned, a plume of steam pouring out of the nose-holes of his tusk. “What is your name, cappella?”


    “Jamothy,” he said. “My name is Jamothy.”


    “Run!” Slogine said from across the hall. “The slugs I give birth to… they take damage and improve on it! She’s gonna get back up!”


    The two looked over and then back at each other. “Doesn’t change a thing,” Wuytr muttered, his powerful voice carrying itself throughout the empty air. “Now go. An evacuation is in order. Of the whole valley I’m guessing.”


    “He’s right,” Jamothy agreed, the demon rising again. “We’ll hold her off.”


    “Brother!” the young one behind him yelled, his blue Glow thinning. “You’ll die!”


    “Get out of here, you disappointment,” his older brother commanded. “You can’t take me with you and you don’t have the balls to help. Just go and warn the castle and townspeople.”


    “But—!”


    The shaft of Jamothy’s club shot into his brother’s chest, knocking him back into the giant red door! The young cappella staggered up to his hands and knees, coughing and gripping his chest… “Every second each of you watch is another second wasted…”


    “He’s right.” Wuytr grinned, resting the shaft of his weapon upon his broad right shoulder. “Best get a move on. I don’t see this ending well.”


    The demon didn’t look happy with their attack, its black hand gripping the front of its thick throat. “That won’t kill me.” It let the hand fall to its side, revealing the vibrant red muscle hiding beneath. It smiled. “I get the feeling nothing can… And let me tell you, it’s a pretty good feeling.”


    Cammo sheathed his weapon. “They won’t be able to hold her off for long… Locine, Slogine, Joolian; we’re retreating.”


    Locine didn’t even nod, using the time to help the old man out of the room and into the maze of halls that made up the castle. Slogine tied his own wavy sword to the thickest portion of his tail underneath his abdomen and left with her. Cammo watched the demon take its slow, casual steps toward the wizards, staying for just a moment. The younger brother opened the small door within the giant red one and escaped through it, weeping like a child. Jamothy didn’t look back. Thank you, Cammo thought, knowing that he’d never see those brave strangers again. I won’t waste this.


    He jumped for the door and slammed it behind himself, joining the others…


    5


    “M-M’lord!” a guard blurted out upon seeing the group approach.


    The other one paired with the first drew his sword, suspicious eyes cast upon the group accompanying him. “What’s the meaning of this?!”


    “Lower your weapon,” Joolian commanded, his tired voice barely carrying itself over the quiet. “Your names, tell me… your names…”


    “Uh, Mickel, m’lord,” the first one answered.


    The other shoved his sword into its sheath. “Peetr, my lord.”


    “Set me down on the floor…” Joolian told the lady emp. She did as he bid and positioned him near the wall, letting the old man slide down to the floor as she held onto his shoulder. He gave her a wan smile in thanks. “Mickel, Peetr, we’ve been attacked.”


    “By whom, my lord?” Peetr asked, kneeling down.


    “By a Guerriero,” Cammo said. The secret was out already, or was going to be out in moments. “Lord Joolian’s a Gouger.”


    Both the guards let their jaws fall as they stared at their lord, more than shocked.


    The lord answered their ensuing and inevitable questions with a simple nod. “Go warn everyone… Start an evacuation…” He took off a ring—one with his house’s sigil that he’d use to legitimize letters—and placed it in Peetr’s hand. “This will… be your proof… And remember, no matter what state you see me in, these people are not the enemies… Now go!”


    Cammo wondered what he meant by the end of it.


    “As you wish, my lord,” Peetr stated, and stood up. “Come. Mickel.”


    “But what about m’lord? We can’t just leave him here!” the other guard said.


    The old lord stopped him. “This is my fault. It’s my duty to try and solve it… Go, hurry! There isn’t a moment to lose!”


    Peetr grabbed Mickel by the armor on his forearm and pulled him away violently. “Come on! We’ve no time to waste!”


    And they went and disappeared behind a corner at the end of the hall, the old one watching them go before turning back to the male emp. “I’m sorry… She knows… your name and it''s… my fault…”


    “It’s not your fault!” Locine said, kneeling down beside him. “It’s just bad luck… that’s all it is…”


    “She’s right,” Cammo said. He could spend the rest of the night furious at the cappella for dragging him into his mess, but that wouldn’t solve anything. She knows my name, Cammo knew. If she knew his name, they’d come for him. “Slogine, like the woman said, you can leave.” He turned to the girl. “You can too. This looks like it’s my problem…”


    Slogine grinned his horrible grin. “Nope”


    Cammo sighed and lowered his masked head. “I thought you’d say that.”


    “We still have a chance! If we can take her out before she tells them your name, we’ll be unknown again,” the grey snake explained. “We need to do something. She could level the entire valley with that body of hers! The body I gave her!”


    “I already know that,” Cammo muttered, agitated at the hopelessness of it all. “Joolian, are you really the only wizard here?”


    The lord answered with an ashamed nod. “I’m no good for politics… I never had the… influence for… magical knights… Sir Wulter was my… most skilled… Right now… you are our only hope… Only prevention… against a massacre…”


    “Come on!” Locine yelled, gathering their attention. “We have to win! No matter what! Just drill that into your brain before we head off! Even if we don’t win, we can still buy time!”


    “What do you mean ‘we’?” Cammo questioned.


    “I can’t just abandon this place, triangle face,” she said, fishing around her small pouch. “Lord Joolian’s right! We’re the last line of defense. If we don’t step in…”


    “But what can you do?” Slogine asked, not out of disbelief but a necessary curiosity.


    “I can kill her,” she claimed, holding up a striped cone of purple and black. “With this.”


    Cammo wanted to know more but the lord decided to say, “Killing is her your… only option… You can’t… just… just keep her busy…”


    “What do you mean by that?”


    “The people… must enter through the… castle for the… escape routes…” he strained himself to say. “If she pushes… them to the fields… then… then…”


    “They’ll be sitting ducks,” Cammo said. He could practically imagine the faces of the refugees when Guerriero troops appeared on the horizon. “I don’t think we can count on the other cappella… I don’t even remember his name, on helping. So it makes no sense wasting time.”


    A rumble spread throughout the stone, causing small trails of dust and pieces of loose stone to fall from the ceiling.


    “It doesn’t look like she’s wasting time either,” Slogine thought aloud. “She’s gonna tear the place apart!”


    “Then let’s hurry,” Cammo said.


    Locine stood up. “Right!”


    They started back the way they came.


    “Wait!” Lord Joolian said, making all three of the town''s heroes jump up in fright. “Slogine… I may be old and weak… but… I have… an idea…”


    6


    Columns of solid stone fell through the floor of the throne room, poking long chasms through the hall, black blood staining the grey. It was complete carnage all around. That was how the two wizards and the demon of wrath left the throne room after their battle… The room didn’t seem quite so free anymore; it seemed cramped. Piles of rubble formed small hills and the roof caved in, only staying a roof because both sides fell into each other, suspending themselves above to dispense small trails of dust and rock. We’re all gonna die, Cammo thought dully, his masked head craning up at the destruction. Whatever, it’s a fine night to die. It didn’t take long for the emp and his companions to find the two men who stayed behind. One was a puddle of red smeared across a wall, and the other was two feet stuck in its boots (Cammo guessed they were the tousk’s).


    “Wow,” was the only thing Locine managed to say.


    “Any idea where she went?” Slogine asked.


    They looked at him with distaste for a moment. “Now’s not the time for jokes,” Cammo muttered, glaring. “Have some respect.”


    “That’s the first thing we should be asking!” he said, confused and upset. “If we don’t stop her soon, she’ll—”


    Locine realized his mistake and pointed to the far side, where the red doors had been. He stopped when he saw the thing reduced to red splinters, similar destruction making a trail far into the halls after.


    “Oh,” he said simply.


    A rumbling came through again and all of them looked at the cracked ceiling, half-expecting the place to fall in and crush them flat before they even reached the invincible monster. But that didn’t happen. It held.


    “What do you need to do, Locine?” Cammo asked, training his sights back on the splintered remains of the gate. “What do you have to do to kill her? What do you need to make it work?”


    “Just a big wound, something deep,” she explained. “It doesn’t matter if the thing seals quickly. If I can get this seed…” She held up the spiral of purple and black which she had been gripping tightly in her right hand. “Doesn’t matter if the hole closes a second later… As long as I get it inside.”


    “Okay,” Cammo said, “then my life is in your hands. So’s Slogine’s. You better not miss.”


    “I won’t,” she said, her pretty face determined. Cammo decided she had a very, very pretty face. In fact, he thought she was angelic. “Don’t forget that it’s my life too.”


    “I won’t,” he answered. “Let’s get down to it then.” He walked along the most whole section of the floor, careful not to place any of his weight near the edge. “We’ve got a town to save.”


    7


    The woman left a trail for them to follow, one of bodies and cracked stone. And soon enough, in the middle of the dining hall they first ate in, they found her. The demon’s mountain-like back was to them as they entered silently, its body covered almost head to toe in the lively red that the slug inside used to fill its injuries. It was more powerful, then, and they all knew it. The corpses of guards and knights strewn about the place was proof enough… even if they might not have been able to much anyways.


    “This place is a fucking maze!” it complained, still facing away. “This body’s too powerful! Every time I try to take one alive, they just…!” It stomped its right foot over and over upon the castle floor, sending out the rumbling the other three felt before. “Fucking shit! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”


    A temper, huh? That isn’t heartening… We have one shot at this, Cammo thought, going over their meager plan one last time as he inched closer, drawing his sword so slowly that it didn’t make a sound. Slogine used all his mana on that huge thing and the other one now… All he can do is bring up a Glow. That’s fine. And my spell’s not that great either, even if it comes from a fetish… It’s up to Locine and him now. We just need to make an opening; just a second… Twenty seconds is probably all it’ll take to create that window.


    The moment Cammo and the two others were in position—Slogine on his left, Locine behind—he put up three fingers. One, he thought, dropping his ring finger. Two, and the middle fell. Three! his index coming into his closed fist as it gripped the handle of his sword.


    They charged. Cammo brought his blade across the back of the demon’s foot, severing the tendon, as Slogine did the same to the other with his own sword. Locine hung back and kneeled on one knee, her left hand under her right to hold it up as she took aim. Her bullet sat at the end of her right hand, just behind the thumb, ready to be flicked into the hole that was planned to appear very soon. The two continued their offense quickly, slicing the back of the demon’s knees, both attacks so fast that the only utterance that came was that of surprised pain. It fell onto its hands as its legs gave out. “YOU—!” the demon started to say. The two comrades, hardened and bonded by blood, sprinted to the head as quick as their Glow’s would allow, and chopped at its neck in a synchronous, beautiful motion that Locine took only a second to marvel at before steadying her hand again. The head rolled off and the body fell limp. Seven seconds had passed.


    Locine’s hands stayed steady as she watched the two run across its broad back, taking chunks out of the beast as they did… But they weren’t deep enough. She needed something deeper.


    The muscle beneath them started to churn, and sensing danger, they jumped off. It pushed itself up one more time, the stump on its head sealing as it stood on two legs once more. Cammo knew what would happen next and grit his teeth, turning his body to stone as Slogine slithered away, his upper body low as he dragged the sword along. And then the blood came bubbling out of its open neck, covering the entirety of the open wound. Five more seconds had passed.


    Muscle, tendon, and bone exploded out of the blood as if its head had burst open from a great blunt force; but that''s not what happened. It had healed. An amalgamation of black eyes, teeth without jaws, and mouths sprouted from the cylindrical and fleshy red lump that was not its head. It’d be able to attack them in just a moment, but neither of the three felt fear. Fear would only come if the plan failed. It was no longer the demon of wrath, borne from Hell, inside Satan’s stomach. It was becoming something much worse… “You fucked up,” it claimed. And five seconds had passed.


    They ignored the choked and croaky words that escaped the muscled mass and attacked again, both blades held high. Its arm came quick and slapped Cammo far across the room, just as if it had batted away a fly! His sword fell into one of the few un-splintered sections of the table as the rest of his body collided into stone, cracking it and embedding himself within a wall… With the same arm it used to swat away the emp, it brought the elbow back into Slogine. He was luckier than his companion as his sword deflected the damage upwards, only a fraction of its momentum sending him scraping against the floor to a stop… but it was enough to render him unconscious. The beast turned towards the girl, then. Two seconds had passed.


    “You’re the last one left,” it said, its unpleasant voice stained with involuntary croaks and chirps. “How does that feel?”


    Locine didn’t answer. She only smiled. It was still going according to plan.


    Doors sat in almost every section of the dining area and the one closest to the demon exploded into wooden planks, something brown and red running with speed towards the demon came pouring out. The mysterious creature, a blur, jumped towards its chest.


    That’s when the woman behind the demon’s eyes could see her attacker and almost gasped—Lord Joolian had entered the scene, new muscles of vibrant red aiding him in one final mission. The old lord shoved its claw-like hands into the beast chest and started to dig!


    8


    “Do what you…” Joolian began, taking a moment to draw more breath in, “did to the demon… to… to… me…”


    “What?” Slogine asked, lowering himself to the dying man’s level.


    “Use your… mutation or… spell… or… whatever combination is… necessary…”


    “But…” the grey snake began, “it’ll only work if you die, my lord. And even then, you’ll be under my control, a moon-man’s control… Do you really want that?”


    The old man looked at him with great determination and nodded. And Cammo thought he could see the young man that once piloted those old bones, if only for a second… “It’s fine… I… I… need to… I need to do this.”


    Slogine nodded.


    9


    The red-brown thing rip and tore a huge cavity in the demon’s chest, just before the monster grabbed it, squeezed it—an action that pushed out whatever internal organs had been left after the transformation out of its mouth and eyes—and slammed it into the ground!


    Locine fired, sending the little seed right into the hole, and let out the air she’d been holding in. Just like every other injury, it was sealed by more red.


    “That scared me a little,” it claimed, touching the spot where it’d been ripped open. “And it hurt!” It turned its grotesque head back to the girl who had been starting to stand. “You’ll pay for that you… you… little…” Its speech slowed and was replaced with grunts of pain, the giant starting to hunch forward and grip its chest, its breathing growing heavier with every passing second. “W-what’s happening?!”


    “There’s a plant in Gardens’ Crater called the flesh-burster,” Locine said, knowing that they’d triumphed. There were a hundred things that could’ve gone wrong with it… but nothing did. That to her was reason enough to feel happiness despite the destruction. “It burrows in open wounds, taking the time to gather nutrients in little sacs within its host’s body, before launching roots all around and killing it… That’s its nutrient source, see? I wouldn’t even call it a plant, even. It’s more like a parasite…”


    “You… you little…”


    “You already tried saying that,” Locine reminded her. “And I’m not giving you the chance to finish…” The roots began to spread from the enlarged cone of its seed, zigging and zagging through bundles of flesh and walls of bone, until reaching their target—the slug. The demon started to moan in pain. “They also kill any other parasites living within the body… You see, the main prey of the Garden are pretty big, so they can handle a rodent-sized parasite or two. ‘Cause after all, it’s all nutrients, right? Parasites and hosts alike.”


    “NO! NO! NO!” it protested, the black balls on its head bulging out as it dug all claws into its chest in search of the parasite. “SHIT! SHIT! SHIII—!”


    Locine snapped her fingers just as the roots stabbed into the foul thing, cutting off the demon’s final curse. It slowly fell forwards the way a massive tree would, the weight of its head smashing into the floor with a great thud.


    10


    Locine fell to her knees, breathing heavily as the yellow light that made up her Glow fell away… She could barely see straight, let alone keep herself upright, so she fell forwards and narrowly avoided a concussion by throwing her left hand under her skull to cushion the fall. Sleep almost took her by the time ten seconds passed, but something stopped it—green light. She looked up and saw a green fog float upwards through the demon’s back, materializing right in front of the fallen emp. The woman was a woman again, and she did not seem happy.


    The distance between the two disappeared in an instant as the woman rushed her, planting her boot right into Locine’s left shoulder! “Bitch!” the Guerriero yelled, delivering another kick into the emp’s side. “Stupid fucking bitch!” She held her foot high above the girl before stomping on her back, feeling the rebound of her ribs push it away as Locine started to gasp for air. “S-stay there!” the woman growled, her pretty head whirling around in search of something. She smiled when she saw the short sword of one of the guards she killed, and ran over to grab it, her black eyes blind to everything but the beaten emp on the ground. “You’re dead as shit,” she claimed, hurrying over with the blade. Locine summoned the last of her strength in one final jump, the way a maggot would squirm off rotting flesh the moment another scavenger started to feast, and tried to get away from the falling weapon—she was close, but not close enough. The tip of the sword cut through the length of her back, forcing out what might’ve been the last scream of Locine’s short life as the black-eyed woman pulled her arm back to stab her dead, and the tall woman tried—and failed.


    The wide metal of Cammo’s blade fell hard on the back of her head, splitting her once beautiful face in half. Her attack flew to the left of her target, taking her along with it as she sprawled onto the grey stone, painting it with her own fresh wound.


    11


    “Finally…” Cammo groaned, dropping his heavy sword and using the free arm to grip the broken one. He was alive thanks to the stone he summoned to replace his soft flesh, but iron could break iron, gems could smash gems, and stone broke stone… He’d been broken in more than just an arm. “Hey… Slogine’s fine… You okay?” he asked, suddenly very aware that his labored tone resembled the old man’s as he fell to his knees. “Hey… answer me…”


    Locine was reduced to heavy breathing and drawn moans of pain as she writhed on the floor, gripping the wounds in her side. “Just… stop talking… Too loud…!”


    Cammo smiled as he sat down. She was fine Slogine was fine. “Okay,” he said, ripping off his mask. “We’re all okay…”