Out on the balcony of the Great Palace, two men were facing each other. One, a tall man in his thirties in the black uniforms of the palace guards, wore a thin smile on his clean-shaven face. His hands lay casually on his belt, inches away from the hilt of his rapier, though by his smug expression, he didn’t look as if he thought there would be any need to draw the weapon. Facing him was a younger man, barely in his twenties. He was clad in battered leather armor and adventurers’ garb that by its looks saw a fair share of battles. His famous crossbow was missing - he had left it in the custody of the guards when he first entered the palace - but the young man had no less than three daggers and one black wand hanging from his belt, and by the way his hand gripped the hilt of his Dagger of Trickery, he was more than ready to use it.

“There’s no need to fight me, Ben,” said Jarod.

Ben raised a dubious eyebrow, oblivious to the fact that both of his brows were going up. “You attacked me twice already, in as many days. I would say that the need to fight you may well arise.”

Now Jarod raised his brow, though unlike Ben, he managed to lift only one without any difficulties. “Sure about that?” He smiled. “I seem to recall it a bit differently. The way I remember it, it was you who attacked me that first time. I never raised my weapon against you, not then and not that other time, in the alley. Though maybe I should have.”

Ben frowned. The man was right, in a way. When they first met in the cells beneath Sonadin, Ben had stumbled into a tense situation, where Jarod had his blade to Shiraz’s throat. In a matter of a few seconds, things had gone from bad to worse, but during that brief encounter Jarod never tried to move against Ben - on the contrary, it was the scout (not even a scout, then) who attacked the soldier, scoring two hits before the man had run away.

And then there was that fight in the alley of Ben’s neighborhood. There, too, Jarod had never actually attacked him, leaving the job to his two companions. Ben had dealt with them easily enough, by using his VD powers in real-life for the first time. And all that time Jarod just stood there, dagger in hand. Watching. Evaluating.

The Beacon's frown deepened. “What are you saying? That you had no control over these encounters? If things had gone differently, you would have surely attacked me - “

Jarod looked surprised. “Attack you? That’s the last thing I want to do, Ben. It’s the other way around; I am here to make sure you survive this quest. To help you become stronger.”

Ben snorted at the absurdity of that statement. “Your men could have killed me!”

Jarod shrugged. “I was there to make sure that didn’t happen,” he said, “though we hoped you would be able to deal with them - which you did. Well done, by the way. You performed brilliantly.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “‘We’?”

The soldier nodded. “It was Sullivan’s idea, to have you confront real-life danger and see how you deal with it. I was there only to monitor your progress.”

Ben thought back to his conversation with Raxlon and about the theories that his mind conjured on the night that followed. What Jarod just said fit perfectly with what he already guessed: SH Gaming were trying to manipulate him, to turn him into their very own superhero. He was using their console and was playing in Raxlon’s Quest only because they had cajoled the DM into inviting him. It only made sense that Sullivan was keeping his people around to monitor Ben’s progress, to make sure that he indeed was acting as was expected of him.

Monitor. The word had an ugly feeling to it, making him feel like a lab rat. His eyes probably reflected the repulsion he felt because Jarod sighed again. “Sullivan asked me to tell you that he’s sorry about the way we had to… urge you forward. To quote his exact words, ‘it was the only way for his mind to fully grasp its capabilities’.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “Bullshit, if you ask me. Not the quote - that’s true enough - but the apology. I can’t see why a great man such as Sullivan Vincent should apologize to someone like you, who had received a gift most people can only dream of.”

Silence followed Jarod’s last statement, interrupted only by the sound of music that was drifting from the great hall inside the palace. Ben stood there, taking long breaths, trying to think of his next move. Jarod stood facing him, watching. I’m still being evaluated, Ben found himself thinking. He’s waiting to see if I behave the way they want me to.

He decided to surprise them. “I’m logging out,” said the scout. His eyes lost their focus as he searched for the log out button of his interface. “I want to speak to Sullivan in real life.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Jarod.

Ben closed his eyes and smiled to himself. He found the logout button, clicked on it. A red prompt immediately appeared:

Are you sure you want to log out before your game session ends? This will incur a penalty of 20% loss to your current XP. Continue?

Ben cursed. 20% loss to his XP meant he would go down by two levels. Was he really ready to do that?

“Ben,” said Jarod, more urgently this time, “don’t do that. If you log out now, you will have to face the police. There’s a patrol vehicle making its way to your apartment as we speak.”

Ben’s eyes snapped open. “The police? What are you talking about?”

Jarod’s smile was gone. He looked grim. “That’s why I came to speak to you in the first place. I’m sorry, Ben, but you’re accused of murder.”

The scout’s eyes widened, though he understood immediately. “The man in the alley.”

Jarod nodded. “He didn’t survive your attack. He’s dead, Ben. And there were eyewitnesses who saw you running away from that alley.”

Ben’s heart was in his throat. This was bad. Very, very bad. Possibilities sprang to his mind, but none of them looked very promising. The only thing he could say to the cops was that he had attacked that man out of self defense, but if that was the case, why had Ben run away and waited all that time without telling the cops anything? Worse: he chose to play VD instead of reporting that fight in the alley. That’s how the cops would find him: hooked to the VD set, enjoying himself, without a trace of guilt over who was dead because of him.

Inside the palace, the music suddenly ceased. Ben thought he heard distant shouts, but he couldn’t care less about what was going on in Sonadin. His life - his real life - was about to take a drastic change.

“There’s a way out,” said Jarod.

Ben, breathing hard, looked at the man. He desperately wished he could believe him. “What way?”

Jarod took a step closer, lowering his voice. “My men are on their way to your apartment. They can delay the cops and smuggle you out of there while you’re still connected to VD. They will take you to a safe house, under constant guard, where you can keep playing and nobody will be the wiser.”

Ben thought about it. It will be the same as running away from the cops, but he didn’t think he had many options left to him. Still, the thought that he will owe his freedom to SH Gaming left a bitter taste in his mouth. He clenched his fists and gave the soldier a stern look. “What’s in it for you?”

Jarod smiled. “Smart as ever. But you’re right; if you want us to save you from the cops, there will be terms.”

“Name them,” said Ben. More shouts came from the palace, yet still Ben gave them no heed.

“First, you have to agree to go into the second phase of your VD immersion.”

Ben furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Fuller immersion. It means we upgrade your console, unlocking its ability to keep you longer in the game. You won’t have to log out for days, possibly even a week. Your real-life body will be nourished by our crew, while your virtual character keeps on playing and gaining strength in VD.”

Ben wanted to laugh. Instead, he maintained his suspicious glare. “That’s your term? That I agree to keep playing longer?”

Jarod nodded, though he didn’t smile. “Yes, but only the first one. The second has to do with the Quest you’re currently playing. We need to make sure you’re making the right choices.”

Ben felt like punching the man. “The right choices? What do you mean? And why does it matter how I play the game? I thought the only thing you care about is that I gain more power - “

Someone from inside the palace screamed in pain. More shouts followed and then - the obvious sounds of battle. This time Ben did turn to look toward the archway that led back to the palace, alarmed enough to realize that something serious was going on. He started to cross the balcony, wanting to see what was happening - but was stopped when Jarod put his hand on his chest, grabbing the front of his leather armor, blocking his way.

The soldier looked at him, hard. “The elves are attacking, Ben. They’re in the palace right now, killing the nobles. If you want us to help you escape the cops, you have to promise me you will do the same thing you had promised Viridion: help the city against the elves. Kill as many of them as you can.”

Ben tried to push away, but the man didn’t move. “Of course!” Said the scout, angry. “I pledged myself to the defense of Sonadin, didn’t I? I accept your terms! Now let me go.”

Jarod’s grip was iron. “One last thing, Ben. One last promise.”

The sounds of battle intensified. Ben heard more cries of pain, and shouts of command as the soldiers most likely tried to formulate a hasty defence. “What!” He shouted.

There was the shade of a smile to Jarod’s lips, though it could be that Ben only imagined it. “I need you to promise you will kill Valla.”

Ben went cold. Valla. The half-dwarven princess had tried to warn him of this attack, had tried to persuade him to switch sides. He could almost still feel her small hand in his and see her big eyes looking at him pleadingly.

Someone appeared at the entrance of the balcony. It was one of the palace guards, and he was holding Ben’s crossbow in his hands. “Beacon!” the young man cried, holding the weapon out to him, together with the quiver of iron bolts. “We’re looking for you! The elves are here; you must come - “

The man didn’t get to finish, as suddenly the tip of a silver arrow jutted from his mouth, spraying blood. He gurgled, trying to reach for the shaft that pierced his head, not realizing that he was already dead. Ben watched as the man fell forward, first on his knees and then on his stomach. The Crossbow of Skewering fell from his dead hands and slid on the balcony’s floor, stopping next to the trickster scout’s feet.

For a moment, Ben didn’t move. Jarod’s hand was still on his chest. “Do you promise!” said the soldier through clenched teeth. “Kill the lord’s daughter, or our agreement is null. We will leave you the cops.”

“You need me - “ Ben started.

“We will find someone else,” said Jarod. His tone was unyielding, and Ben knew he had no choice.

The young hero bared his teeth. “I promise. Now let me go - “

But Jarod was gone, vanished. With no one to block his way, Ben stumbled forward but he quickly regained his balance. The scout kneeled, grabbed his fallen crossbow, and then paused. For a moment, probably a very short moment before all hell broke loose, he was alone in the balcony with the dead guard. As the sounds of battle grew more hectic, Ben allowed himself this pause to try and put some order to his thoughts.

He could only guess that Jarod had logged out to report to Sullivan and to put their plan in motion. Ben tried to imagine his real-life body, lying helpless in his shabby apartment. Was Jarod telling the truth? Were his men taking Ben away and would they manage to smuggle him out of there before the cops came? If the cops really are on their way, he suddenly thought. Jarod could have lied about that, could have lied about everything.

But Ben, with a Perception score of 27, didn’t think so. Jarod was telling the truth. Ben had been careless; he had been so thrilled by the discovery that he could use VD powers in real life, that he all but forgot about the man he had left bleeding in the alley. The police around his neighborhood weren’t much, but it wouldn’t take a full-time detective to find the man who ran away from the crime scene in broad daylight. Ben was a fool, and his mistake had now cost him dearly; it seemed that SH Gaming had him just where they wanted.

But why must I kill Valla? He thought, angry all over again. Everything else about the agreement seemed more than fair - helping Sonadin against the elves was something Ben had meant to do anyway - but killing the half-dwarf youth, Viridon’s own daughter… that was something else altogether. The very thought of it didn’t sit right with him. Yet, he promised...

“Beeeeen!” Red’s roar, coming from inside the palace, was so loud that it easily drowned the sounds of battle. “Where are you, you fucking Beacon? I need you!!!”

Ben straightened, crossbow in hand. His time of reflection was over. He would have to trust Jarod to keep his word. And as for Valla… he would do whatever it takes. After all, she was only an NPC, wasn’t she? Shaking his head to get rid of a sudden irritating smell of herbs in his nostrils, Ben jumped over the body of the dead palace guard and re-entered the palace compound. He remained partially hidden in the shadow of the archway and looked around.

Chaos greeted him.

A fierce battle was being fought all around the great hall of Sonadin’s Palace. Elves, tall and graceful, clad in silver armor and helmets and armed with longbows and longswords, were fighting the black-uniformed palace guards and the Sonadinian nobles. There were at least two scores of elves, and they seemed to be everywhere Ben looked - engaged in pitched battles on the lower floor, or standing on the upper floor and along the length of the gallery and raining arrows down at easy targets. Most of their arrows left a silver streak behind them, and whenever they hit, the target would be enveloped in a brief silvery aura before going down, stunned or dead.

Dead. At least half of the palace guards were slain, probably as a result of being caught unaware when the elves launched their surprise attack. Bodies littered both of the floors, most of them human. Ben could see Yellow Coat - the highborn noble who had tried to talk to him earlier - lying sprawled over a table in a pool of blood, his throat cut so deeply that his head nearly fell off. More nobles - men and women alike - lay dead in various positions, and it was clear that some were killed while trying to escape. Ben saw the young woman Red had been dancing with lying prone at the edge of the floor, next to the hall’s great doors - which were closed shut - with a silver arrow jutting out of her back.

Not all of the nobles had died, though. The hardy Sonadians were caught by surprise, but once they recovered, they fought back with gusto, using anything at their disposal to fight the elves - be it swords or dinner plates. The humans fought for their lives, yet it was evident to Ben that it wouldn’t take long before the elves finished them off - the forest folk outnumbered and outlevelled the men and women and every few seconds another human went down.

The only thing that might save the humans was the quick response of the remaining palace guards. The soldiers, led by Commander Hayet, were regrouping even as Ben watched. They used an impressive arsenal of weapons, and some were using their unique warrior powers. Ben was watching Hayet just as the commander’s skin suddenly glowed green; he wasn’t sure what kind of power it was, but when an arrow hit the commander a second later, the man just shrugged the projectile off - stunning effect and all - and charged on up the stairs, throwing his sword as he did. The weapon sailed through the air and was buried in the chest of a female archer elf, penetrating her chain armor. The elf grunted in pain but managed to draw her sword in time to meet the human commander head-on.

“Skin! Down here!”

Ben made sure he was safe from immediate harm, then took a step forward and looked down. Red was standing in the center of the lower floor with his sword, shield and brass knuckles and facing three elves with longswords. Two of the forest folk already lay dead at his feet. The head of one of the bodies was gone - only red pulp remained - and Ben guessed he was seeing the handiwork of Breaker, Red’s new and powerful weapon. Still, he knew that the elves - levels 6 to 8, would soon overcome the level 7 warrior. Red was fighting alone, whereas the elves worked together, flanking the big human and forcing him back.

Ben growled. Any inhibitions he had had before about Viridion’s Quest were gone after he saw the slaughter around him. The elves were killing indiscriminately, as only evil creatures would opt to do. He didn’t know how they had managed to mount such a deadly surprise attack so quickly, but he couldn’t let it go on without doing anything. It was time for the Beacon to show his worth.

The trickster considered his options. Red was fighting a losing battle below, but the situation in the gallery was not looking any less grim. The elven archers had nearly complete control of the upper floor, and Hayet’s soldiers had a hard time trying to reach them, having to find cover time and again or get struck by one of the deadly silver arrows. Ben had to decide: should he help the soldiers against the archers or save his friend?

He grinned. That was not even a proper dilemma.

When the young hero emerged from the shadows of the archway into the well-lit gallery, he saw himself as nothing less than death incarnate. He was the hero from the stories, the hero these men deserved and needed. With great power comes great responsibility, he thought, seeing in his mind’s eye the world prompt image of himself, holding his badass crossbow and looking as dangerous as his Vindicator title suggested. And here he was, crossbow loaded and ready, ready to vindicate away.

The first elf he killed was one who had managed to circle around Red and was about to strike the mercenary from behind. Ben came to a stop next to the parapet of the gallery, took aim and let loose. His attack could not have been more accurate; the crossbow iron bolt crossed the 30 feet in a blink of an eye and penetrated the back of the elf’s armored head. The elf’s silver helmet might have deflected a usual arrow shot from a usual bow, but Ben was shooting from a level 8 magical Skewering Crossbow, whose description stated that a successful hit would ignore most defenses.

And so it had. The bolt punched right through the helmet and entered the elf’s brain, killing the forest warrior in an instant.

Critical hit! You hit elven warrior with Skewering Crossbow for 72 piercing damage. You kill elven warrior.

The shot was so powerful that it threw the now dead elf forward - right into Red, who was busy deflecting blows from the other two elves. The mercenary roared, swung his sword in a wide arc to keep his foes at bay, and spun to face this new threat, his bloodied blade raised for a strike. When he saw the body that fell to the floor with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his helmet, the mercenary looked up to see Ben standing behind the parapet, holding his crossbow.

“About fucking time!” Cried the big warrior, but Ben could only grin in acknowledgement; his Passive Focus triggered again, and he saw no less than three of the elven archers in the upper floor turning their bows at him.

He teleported just in time, leaving a smokescreen behind him. Three silver arrows passed through the white smoke where he’d been, but the scout wasn’t looking or stopping to congratulate himself for his quick thinking. He appeared on the lower floor next to Red and used his Quick Load power to notch another bolt to his crossbow. It wasn’t a moment too soon; one of the warrior elves overcame his surprise and charged at him - but came to a hard stop when Ben’s bolt took him square in the chest, nearly at point-blank range.

You hit elven warrior with Skewering Crossbow for 22 piercing damage.

The elf staggered backwards, momentarily stunned - which was a moment too late for him. Red leapt at him, closing the distance between them, and punched with all his might at the elf’s armored shoulder. The mercenary was wearing his magical knuckles on the same hand that was holding his named sword, and whenever he attacked, he could choose whether to do so with the long sword of Xoric Hearts or with Breaker. This time it was Breaker in motion, and Ben now had a front-row seat to see the outcome of a successful attack with this destructive weapon. Upon impact, the knuckles - as well as Red’s entire fist and half of his arm - glowed an angry bright red. Then, to the horror of the elf (and anyone who watched), Red’s bloody fist went straight through the chain mail and into the flesh of the target. The elf screamed, but his scream ended abruptly when Red twisted his fist inside the elf’s body. What followed was a grisly tearing noise and then the elf’s entire arm flew off him, as well as half of his head and neck. Blood spattered everywhere, mostly at Red but also reaching Ben and some of the other combatants around them on the lower floor.

The scene was so terrifying that, for a few seconds, the fighting in the great hall paused as nearly everyone looked at what remained of the elf - and at the black-skinned human warrior who still had his arm outstretched, with blood and gore dripping from his fist. Red, for his part, turned his bloody grinning face toward Ben. “I got it in slo-mo,” he said happily. “It was beautiful.”

Then the battle was on. Ben’s appearance had two immediate consequences: he diverted some of the archers’ attention toward him, allowing the palace guards to close the distance and engage the ranged fighters in melee; and, by joining the fight against the elves, morale among the humans was suddenly seriously bolstered. “Beacon!” Someone cried. “We’re safe; the Beacon is here!” Others took up the cry.

But Ben knew that morale alone wouldn’t be enough to turn the tide of this battle. The elves still outnumbered them, and unless reinforcements appeared, the battle would end badly for the humans. As if to strengthen his fears, the scout heard the twang of a bow being released, and saw that one of the elves in the gallery had him in his sight. The scout immediately tried to teleport away again, but this time he miscalculated - the cooldown on his Trickster Power hasn’t yet elapsed, and Ben remained where he stood.

Red saved him. The warrior was suddenly there, holding his shield up high, and the arrow that would have pierced Ben’s chest bounced off the magical shield, that was now glowing white.

Ben’s eyes were wide. He had almost made a mistake that could have ended him, and he couldn’t allow himself to get killed now, not after the agreement he had made with Jarod. His eyes widened even more when he saw two elven fighters charging at them. “Behind!” He cried, and Red turned and threw his shield, using his Captain America Power. His shield sailed through the air, hit the first fighter, then the other one, before bouncing back into Red’s waiting left hand. The two elves staggered backwards.

Ben’s Passive Focus alerted him to another archer that took aim at him and released. This time the Beacon simply jumped, throwing himself sideways at the last moment and rolling away. The arrow skidded on the floor, missing him. Ben rose to one knee behind a table that was lying on its side. His crossbow was still in his hands, and he quickly loaded it, even as Red was running toward him, his shield raised high to defend against the arrows.

Ben picked his target - one of the archers in the gallery who was about to release - and let loose. He missed; the archer crouched, and the bolt sailed harmlessly above the elf’s helmet. Ben cursed, but wasn’t surprised. He just came out of a roll, he was shooting from a lower position, and the elf - a level 7 ranger - was half-covered behind the parapet. Fortunately for Ben, just as the elf was about to return Ben the favor and shoot back at him, a human soldier jumped at him. The elf had no choice but to abandon his longbow and draw a shortsword - which he managed to do just in time to deflect the first of the soldier’s blows.

Ben rose to his feet. He looked around, saw that there was no immediate threat, and ran away from the main floor, jumping over bodies and overturned chairs. Red came after him, and together they crossed the room until they stopped beneath a sweeping staircase which provided partial cover from the hellish arrow fire. “We have to get out of this killing zone,” said Ben, breathing hard.

Red’s face was a gruesome painting of blood and gore. “You think?” He snapped back. “Why the fuck didn’t you stay up there on the second floor? You’re an archer, for god’s sake!”

Ben never seemed to accept his role as a ranged fighter - a mistake that nearly cost him his life, time and again. Now was not the time for self-recrimination, though. “I’m much more than that,” he said. He hung his crossbow behind his back and instead drew out his Dagger of Trickery in one hand, and Night Terror in the other. “We need to get out of the palace. Where’s Milenna?”

Red shook his head. “I don’t know. I saw her speaking to that half breed dwarf girl just before the elves suddenly appeared out of nowhere. But after the fight began, she was gone. Both of them.”

Ben cursed. Goddamn you, Milenna. He remembered how the sorceress looked when they had stood together outside the city, and Captain Robert told them about the Bane of the Elves. He was suddenly very sorry he didn’t speak with her after that, as it should have been obvious what were her opinions on the elves. It seemed that Valla found an ally after all, he thought and his heart felt very heavy. And I lost another friend.

“Ben, look out!” Cried Red. The mercenary jumped in front of Ben as three elves charged at them with drawn swords. But Ben saw them even before his warrior friend did, and was prepared. As Red moved to intercept, Ben gathered shadows with Night Terror and released a shadow bolt at the closest elf. The shades beneath the staircase weren’t very thick and so neither was the shadow bolt -

You hit elven warrior with Night Terror for 8 shadow damage.

- but the attack was just foreplay for Ben’s second attack. As the elf woman charged at Ben, her blade swirling in a magnificent whirlwind move, the trickster, who was counting the seconds for the cooldown of his Teleportation power, suddenly appeared behind his foe. The Dagger of Trickery flashed brilliantly in the light of the hall as Ben shoved it with all his strength into the back of the elf’s neck, utilizing his Backstabbing skill to find the exposed skin between the elf’s gorget and her helmet.

Critical Hit! You hit elven warrior with Dagger of Trickery for 20 piercing damage. Successful trigger effect: Blind.

Blood gushed out of the elf woman throat, but she somehow managed to push away from the deadly trickster. Alas, the evil dagger left her blind as well as grievously wounded and it was all she could do to hold her sword and stumble this way and that, waving her blade in wide arcs. Her luck - or dice roll - was probably really lousy as the target her sword found wasn’t that of either of the humans, but an elf. The blade caught one of her comrades in the back, not doing much damage but allowing Red to catch his opponent off guard, slashing down with his weapon and inflicting a fatal blow. In the meanwhile, Ben completed the maneuver by easily stepping behind the blind warrior and burying his dagger a second time in her neck. No effect was triggered this time, but it wasn’t necessary. The elf’s throat was too ruined to keep air flowing into her lungs, and she collapsed.

Ben’s lips snarled in triumph -

- when searing pain exploded in his side.

The young hero found himself lying on his back, with a silvery haze enveloping him and an arrow shaft sticking out of his torso. He was in extreme pain, and he couldn’t move.

You were critically hit! Elven archer hits you with silver arrow for 28 piercing damage. HP remaining: 13/41. Be warned! Your HP is at 50% or less. You should probably take cover or something. You are stunned. You are unable to move or do any kind of action for 12 seconds.

As he lay there on the floor, as helpless as the naked noob he once was, with Red looming over him and fighting the elves, Ben wondered what would happen to him if he died. Jarod spoke about fuller immersion, but he didn’t mention the consequences of getting killed in VD. If I die, I’ll probably be forced to log out anyway, and Jarod and Sullivan will realize that I am not the man they expected me to be. They will hand me over to the cops and I’ll spend the rest of my life in jail.

10… 9…

Maybe he deserved it. Quite a Beacon he was, lying on the floor of the great palace with an arrow stuck in him as his lifeblood pooled around him.

6… 5…

The timer on his stunned status kept clicking, and hope bloomed in Ben’s heart. He was still alive. He suddenly realized something else: I can use my Godlike power. This unique Beacon Power was a game-changer, and Ben was sure it would sustain him enough to stay alive and see this battle through. He just needed Red to hold on for a few more seconds...

2… 1…

When Ben got back on his feet, Red was just finishing off his last foe. The mercenary was looking worse for wear; he had an arrow through his leg and his shield arm hung limply by his side. The two men looked at each other. “Potions,” croaked Ben, and Red nodded. Keeping an eye out to make sure no other arrows or swords were coming their way, the two wounded men stumbled back into the relative cover of the shadows.

They took turns at drinking healing potions - one drinking and the other standing guard - while the battle in the Great Palace kept raging. It seemed to Ben that there were more dead people than living now, for both sides; wherever he looked, he saw bodies and blood and body parts. The thick of the fight now happened mostly on the upper floor, where the few remaining soldiers made a last stand against the intruders.

“Is this… music?” Asked Red.

Ben, who was gripping the arrow shaft and preparing to pull it out of his flesh, heard it too: the sweet sound of a mandoline, getting louder with each passing second. “It is,” he said, incredulous. “There are words, too...” He thought he recognized the voice as belonging to the court bard.

“It’s a song for Sonadin!” Exclaimed Red.

And so it was. The music now filled the hall, powerful and dramatic. It soon grew loud enough to be heard above the din of the battle, and as the song gained strength, so did every one of the humans who heard it.

"From the ashes, we have risen

Standing tall against the horde

Using all that we were given

We shall always keep our guard!”

Ben felt a rush of adrenaline wash over him. Baring his teeth, he pulled the arrow out of his flesh with one powerful tug. The pain was excruciating, but he was ready with a healing potion, which he hurriedly gulped down. All along the hall, more voices joined the bard. The Sonadinians sang and fought.

"Oh little child don’t shed a tear

Don’t be scared or look away

Raise your head for we are here

We will make the demons pay!”

“My stats, they’re going way up,” said Red. “I have more HP than before!” Ben saw it too. The song not only raised his spirit, but it also healed him, boosting up his constitution and strength.

"Sonadin, oh Sonadin

Our hearts belong to thee

This is how it’s always been

To our lord, we bend the knee!"

When Ben and Red left their hiding place, bolstered by both the healing potions and by Endrin’s song, they were greeted by a cheerful sight: reinforcements had arrived, breaking into the doors of the second floor. Two dozen soldiers, bearing the Three Trees emblem on their green and black uniforms, poured into the palace. Leading them was Lord Viridion himself, who was fighting and singing. Next to him was bard Endrin, whose only weapon was the mandoline. Ben saw that the lord was injured - there was an ugly cut across his forehead - but he fought with ease nonetheless, storming into the palace and killing two elves in a matter of seconds.

An arrow zoomed toward the Lord of Sonadin, but he never flinched. Ben saw the arrow struck an invisible shield that protected the lord, before bouncing harmlessly to the floor. In response, the surprising ruler raised his off-hand, and five narrow rays of white light shot forward from each of his fingers. The rays of magical light struck the archer that attacked him, leaving five smoking holes through his chest and killing him on the spot.

Ben exchanged a glance with Red. “Might as well join the fun,” said the scout.

Red grinned. “Couldn’t have phrased it better.”

They charged up the stairs together.

Less than a minute later, it was all over. The elves fought till their dying breath - none tried to escape - but there were simply too many human fighters now in the palace, and the powers of Viridion, Hayet, Red and Ben were more than enough to tip the scales.

When the last elf was down, Viridion, standing amongst the carnage, raised his bloody sword in triumph. “Victory!” He cried. The soldiers cheered. Viridion looked around him, fixed his gaze on Ben, and grinned. “Together,” he began, “we have shown the treacherous elves that we will never - “

“My lord!” Someone shouted, cutting off the lord’s victory speech. Ben turned together with the rest of the soldiers to see an injured man stumble through the palace doors. He had a silver arrow jutting out of his thigh but he somehow managed to hold himself upright. “My lord!” The man cried again.

Viridion ran down the stairs, accompanied by everyone else. Ben ran with him and saw that the man by the door was another soldier. He was pale from loss of blood, and when Viridion reached him, the man stumbled, and the lord had to grasp his shoulders to keep him standing straight.

“My lord!” Said the man a third time, as if not believing he had found his liege.

“Yes, I am here,” said Viridion. His hands tightened on the man’s shoulders. “What is it?”

“The elves, my lord!” The man gasped. “The attack - on the palace - just - a diversion. The elves - “

Viridion nearly shook the man. “A diversion?”

The man nodded. “Aye, my lord. They are storming - the Old City. They’re - surrounding - the square… the bane of the elves… ”

Viridion cursed. “They're trying to save their kin,” he said. “They’re freeing the captives! Men!” He looked around him at the bloodied soldiers. “This is not yet done! Gather your weapons and come with me. To the Punishment Square!” He looked at Ben. “Beacon, are you with us?”

In response, Ben raised his crossbow in the air and bared his teeth in half a grin and half a snarl. “Let’s finish these evil bastards.”

The men cheered.