Flickering light pulsed with rapid blinding rays, burning a hole through the air and causing a small pop as more air rushed to fill the empty space. The battlefield smelled of burnt flesh, smoldering fabrics, boiling blood, and ozone. A crack sounded from the cloudless dark sky just after a flash of pure energy branched like an uprooted tree. The battle stood still for a moment as everyone looked with wonder, shock, fear, and or pride. A hail of blood rained from the resultant attack painting the snow-white grass red. As amputated charred goblin body parts bounced off the frozen ground, the battle resumed as if the dismemberment mimicked a starting pistol.

The original sneak attack had failed, causing a full-scale charge. Magical projectiles of various shapes, sizes, and affinities peppered the night sky, illuminating the area while blinding the combatants. Chunks of stone broke and shattered, crumbling away from the forward wall. Exposed goblins danced trying to dodge the incoming death wave, hiding under shady tarps, or diving into the makeshift sewer system. A horn sounded commanding a breakaway of soldiers and melee fighters. As they ran, mages and [Archers] fired covering spells and arrows, pinning down any retaliation.

The failed sneak attack caused many casualties. The advanced warning paired with ample time before the crash of lightning allowed many goblins time to move into a more advantageous spot. Crude arrowheads laced with excrement and bacteria whistled as they flew, finding refuge in the armor and flesh of Lesterwood’s best. Weak and inexperienced fireballs were next, along with jars of oil. Fire melted the snow while burning adventurers screamed in pain. Pit falls with large, pointed logs hung under snowy camouflage, taking a few victims before the ground shook.

Snow and slush shifted with the ground, allowing [Trackers] the necessary guidance to swiftly mark and activate the deadly ploys. As the assault teams regain their footing, a new volley of attacks sounded from the back line. While the previous were overloaded and powerful but inaccurate, this new wave was precise and protective. Spells removed footing and points of interest while barbed arrows slaughtered the priority targets.

Mana fused with a commander’s throat, causing her words to echo and reverberate through the whole of the battle, “QUAKE IN THIRTY SECONDS!”

Her words were met with a feral cry as the rusted bent gate surged outward, allowing a glimpse into the goblin’s stronghold before a deluge of sickly green short warriors blocked the passage. They ran with madness, uncaring of bodily harm as they were morphing. Their bones fractured with unrelenting pressure caused by massive increases of muscle mass. Their steps slowed as a climax of ungodly pain transformed them into something new, something superior. Arrows and spells met them just as the pain subsided, cutting through ranks just intime for the armies to clash.

Steel mixed with body parts as the two forces collided. Individual battles took place across the fire and slush filled land. A woman guard dissected a pair of Eldritch brutes, before stabbing her sword through the ribcage of another. She continued her momentum aiding a comrade with a swift beheading of a particular bloodied goblin. The pair moved on, allowing a small push to take hold. A Beastkin ripped apart tendons and serrated leg muscles, allowing those who followed him easy experience. A rogue club found the back of his head, causing his collapse. The goblin was rapidly ended and the Beastkin was dragged to the backlines where multiple healers were stationed.

“Ready?” A blonde haired, silver eyed princess asked her mentor. She twitched with excitement, nipping at the chance to explode into the battlefield. Her magic acceded in grand situations such as the raid before her. While most magic could render an area useless through destruction, Clammy’s made herself an area of destruction.

“Almost.” Bishop answered before turning to the field captain. “Do we know where the first team is?”

“They weren’t directly beyond the gate, we checked when it opened.” The captain said shaking her head. “They have to be inside though.”

“They were in position when I left them!” A guard said pushing her way through the command tent. “Just beyond the western tower!” The woman rested her wrist on the hilt of a sheathed dagger, blood dripped down her belt and armor but otherwise she was fine.

“Good enough for me. How long on the qua-“ Bishop cut himself off as the ground shook with the fervor of the [Groundsplitter]. The second quake marked the assault for the southern and eastern fronts. Multiple simultaneous barrages of magic and metal demolished more of the outer wall. Bishop smiled to his young apprentice, “Time to go.”

A massive smile, nearly the same size as the lightning bolt which plummeted into a mass of goblins, appeared on Clammy’s face. The two took off with breakneck speeds, electricity coursed through Bishop’s muscles allowing for agile and forceful steps. Gravity changed in relation to the princess, pulling her while lighting her body, allowing for speeds impossible for her class level. The two arrived with a bombardment of rapid attacks, wells of increased weight appeared and disappeared, crushing goblins allowing for a quick dispatch. Constructed electrical weapons of all kinds flickered in and out, forming in Bishop’s hands before being stabbed or slammed into enemies.

A rift was created, a Drake in the lead with a young warrior right behind him. They drew the attention of multiple packs of goblins, removing pressure from their allies. Slobber mixed with bile dripped from the Eldritch mouths, falling silently but slowly. The air felt weird, as if one was high in the mountains during a thunderstorm. Drops of water and snow pulled from the ground, sweat beaded off nearby soldiers, small twigs and leaves fluttered attempting to break free from their icy chains. Movements began to elongate, armor began to lighten, the area around Clammy changed.

The nearby goblins ignored these odd signs, continuing their head long rush. Each step they covered more ground, gathered more momentum, and fought for control over their bodies. A powerful swing from a massive hammer ended the life of a speeding goblin, bolts of lightning shaped into daggers pierced into a few more. Bishop gave Clammy a subtle nod, signaling the start of his master plan. Gravity continued to reverse until the area right around the two was nearly nothing. Bishop latched his arm around Clammy and the pair jumped high into the air. Expertly manipulating her magic, the duo sailed above the encampment.

Multiple huts strung together by rope and leather made up the outer layer of buildings. Goats, chickens, and other farm animals ran around, hiding in the darkened crevices. Weak and sickly goblins moved with similar fear but ran towards the center of the encampment were a singular stone building stood. Boulders looked as if they were bonded together with fortified logs support pillars. A multi layered hide roof protected the inside from the elements while allowing for air and smoke to flow freely. A tall and thin goblin cautiously held a pulsating green staff. It wiggled its weapon in circular wide motions, seemingly charging a spell.

Almost faster than Clammy could see, a green beam broke the night sky in two. A golden arcing shield deflected the beam, sending it far off into the forest. The resulting explosion brightened the trees with a sickly green hue, casting long and crooked shadows onto the battlefield. A wicked smile crossed the young princess’s face, one of realization and nerves rather than madness. Without Bishop’s intervention she surely would have died, the thought made her tremble in her mentor’s arms. He gently squeezed her while readying a counterattack. Thunder echoed just before two lighting spears whipped forward, landing on either side of the tall goblin. The two spears arced together blinding the area and allowing two more spears to dispatch the enemy mage.

“Was that the [Hexer]?” Clammy shouted as the two continued to drift through the air like a dandelion seed. Below them, the ground radiated electrical shocks as thousands of volts of electricity jumped from one carrier to another. The goblin mage’s corpse spasmed with great vigor, kicking up snow and dirt.

“No… That was tribal magic. Strong tribal magic, might I add.” Bishop craned his head around the encampment. “Its smaller than it seemed from the ground.” Hundreds, thousands even, of goblins were supposed to live within these walls. But as the two looked through the air, it was apparent that only a few dozen could realistically live here.

“Underground maybe?” Clammy strained her eyes at the central stone building. Beyond the seizing goblin, was a thick heavy set wooden door. It had a massive steel lock with runic carvings laid deep into its foundation.

“Not our problem right now. We need to find team one.” Bishop traced his mental map of the outlined plan. Team one was supposed to silently approach and wait for teams two and three to reach position. Somewhere between wave one and two, the goblins were alerted, meaning team one should be… “There! Beyond the watch tower, do you see?”

Clammy cursed her Human eyes in this moment. “I’ll have to trust you on that. I’m taking us down.”

The pair slowly lowered, moving laterally towards the tower. Arrows mixed with crude spells tried to knock them out of the air, but between Lightning Shields and Gravity Wells the attacks never stood a chance. Team one was battling for their lives against a horde of Eldritch. Many were already dead, or dying, but the special team pair didn’t let that stop them. They landed with a kick of snow, launching out towards the ensuing battle. Team one was down to seven members, far from their earlier numbers of twenty-two.

Three torso sized stones moved in front of the pair, wedging an opening before being fired out. The rocks slammed into their target with enough force to shatter Eldritch hardened bones, viscera exploded outwards covering the backdraft in a thick mucusy blood. The now broken stone was quickly absorbed into a revolution of dust, snow, and sticks, berating the oncoming horde back. Bishop fought to keep his mind clear as he changed his fighting style to a supportive after thought. Where Clammy missed a goblin or a was threatened by a spell in the distance, Bishop was there to intervene.

In a way, this raid was made for Clammy. Her life had been hellish since she left the safe walls of her family’s pristine castle. She made enemies and friends, but most importantly she felt worthwhile. She no longer was negative and estranged, but rather a fighter hell bent on revenge for her pseudo family. The goblins that killed her friends were distant, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get revenge.

With renewed vigor, team one fought on. Gooey cyan magical blobs bounced around, turning the infernal battlefield into a trampoline park. The caster moved along with the biggest glob, controlling the rest of his personal army. The spell created a safe zone, limiting the movement of the goblins and absorbing any who got close. Bishop used the distraction to dive deep into the enemy lines, attacking the lead Eldritch with sparking twin daggers. Every slice chained lighting from one target to the next, forcing unwaning victims into an attraction rod. Discharges popped from now and then as bones exploded under the intense heat and static.

Three flailing goblins suddenly fell from the air, along with them an [Archer] tower. They slammed into the ground with added gravitational force, crushing the horde underneath. Clammy didn’t let up, she leaped into the fray using the falling tower as an example. Snow, soil, and stone broke with her impact, along with her foot. Before the dust settled, two healing potions were chugged, healing her injury to prime status. An aftershock of stone debris plunged outward, not so much to damage but to obscure. Clammy moved through the dust cloud making use of its opaque nature to approach a duo of helpless Eldritch. One was dispatched with a particular pointy stone shard, the other a punctured heart with knives made of rib bone.

Overlooking the scrappy battle, Clammy saw that her and Bishop were single handedly pushing back the death party of Eldritch. A blob of mana bounced beside her, “Go for it!” she heard someone yell from behind. Without much thought, Clammy changed the glob’s gravity pulling it into the mass of remaining goblins. Widening like a mesh net, the glob immobilized a majority of the goblins not being fought by Bishop. Nearby, the surviving soldiers attacked, raining hellfire, anger, and misery with every attack. Only a few stragglers were left after the onslaught of spells and ranged attacks, Bishop slaughtered the ones who fled while Clammy took her time with the others.

“How many dead?” Bishop asked the mage who summoned the mana slimes.

“Too many…” The man hung his head with sorrow, allowing his hooded robes to flop over his ears in hopes of casting an invisibility spell. He was team one’s lead, a veteran with high renown around Lesterwood. “What about the rest?”

“We were forced into plan B. It was going well last I saw.”

The man’s legs gave out, he fell to his butt with a dull thud. Tears swelled in his eyes, but he refused to cry. “Good. That is good.”

“Were you seen?” Bishop asked in a quiet and tender voice, one you would give a scared child. The team leader was no child, but Bishop knew from past experiences that it was best not to yell at or chide a failed team.

“There was an eye. It was green and looked to be made of mana ectoplasm. At first, I thought it was somehow one of my creations, but it kept looking at us until… Someone destroyed it. Then hell broke loose.”

“Did you see where it came from?”

A meek nod shown through the mage’s hood. “The central stronghold. I saw a tall thin goblin caster emanating a similar green mana.”

“It is dead. Rest now, we will hold here until the main forces arrive. But prepare yourself, the real raid has yet to begin.” Bishop turned his head to the main stronghold. Something primal told him not to approach for the dangers inside were too much to handle.

Emi was in a strange predicament. She was currently under wraps, like a cute pet, in the arms of a gloomy Celenia. They lay on top of a low roof of the mansion, gazing up at the bright and cheery stars. The overhead galaxies seemed to shift and breathe as the minutes rolled by, actively moving against the forces of the universe. Within Emi’s head, Max pestered with queries of location, but her Elven companion had specifically asked her not to tell Max where they were. Thus brought the little monster into an ethical dilemma. She wanted to tell Max where they were, but she also wanted to keep her friend happy. Both sides lead to one being upset, but the question was which to disappoint.

She also knew it was only a matter of time before Max got annoyed and simply probed her mind for a thread of bonded mana. The thread would act as a spindle, reeling the two together no matter the distance. She also knew that Celenia knew this and was passively content with Max randomly fining their hiding spot. Does it really matter if she told her partner just a bit earlier? Emi was all for hugs and signs of affection such as scratches and belly rubs, but watching the stars was getting old, fast. The two had spent the entire day together, well half day, after the disaster in Dreamstem’s office, and Emi was hungry. The entire day she had abstained from hunting precious fresh fish, resorting to eating ward preserved cuts, despicable. The added salt was nice, she conceded.

The point was, she was tired. And hungry. And bored. She saw the value in star gazing, but it was simply not for her. Too many times she hunted down a Shallow Water Angler using only a bobbling light as a guide, the attraction for small lights had long worn off. Judging by Max’s newest attempts of finding their whereabouts, offerings of artisanal cheeses that were supposed to evolve greasy fish flavor, Emi estimated it was only a short time before he got desperate and tugged the thread.

Emi breathed out, long and deep. Bubbles formed and burst with her miffed exhale, reverberating, and tickling her gills. She stiffened in fear. She was ticklish in the one spot her bond could actively exploit. Ugh. She would have to fight him for control of the water that surrounded her gills if he ever found out. A dark, internal voice calmly spoke; He will never find out. Emi shuddered as if a cold wind brought forth a torrent of lava.

Emi? What’s wrong? I felt something, everything alright? Max asked from across town.

She thought quick, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. Everything is fine. I-I thought about Buzluc.

The ol’ blame the defeated enemy excuse, it worked every time.

Yeah, me too. That’s why I need to speak with Celenia. I really need her to understand.

The ol’ blame the defeated enemy excuse, it worked every time. Except for when it backfired.

“Celenia, Max wants to talk with you. Either you invite him, or I have to leave.” Emi said, fighting back an annoyed tone.

Seconds ticked by as Emi waited for a response. She feared the worst, preparing herself to respond to Max, but the Elf spoke up in a meek and distant voice. “Fine. Invite him up.”

On the roof of the mansion. Under Celenia’s window.

Without a response, the sky folded just above the two laying down. A young man appeared, his robes flapping in the upward rushing air as he fell a few feet before landing hard. In his mind, he landed in the superhero pose, but in reality, that move was terrible for your knees. Only Emi noticed the fresh flow of water healing the crowned bruises that slowly were forming on the Lost Lord. She rolled her eyes, as the Elf holding her rose to a seated position. The roof made sitting awkward as the slanted tiles forced a terrible line of site.

“Celenia, I am sorry.” Max said, doing his best not to show the pain he currently was in.

Celenia wiped the start of a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry too. Come sit?” Max quickly accepted the offer, afraid that if he took too long the world would catch fire. Or something.

The two, three really, sat in silence for a few minutes, eventually Max fell to his back and Celenia soon followed with Emi comfortably on her stomach.

“In Esmel Bishop and I stayed out late to train my sword play. Emi and the others left to bed early. As Bishop and I walked back, the streets turned… Ghostly. It was if all life in the area had died, suddenly, without warning. I couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, I heard nothing, I saw and smelled nothing. The air was if we were separated, isolated, alone from the world. Buzluc walked up, almost uncaring of the situation.”

Celenia shifted uncomfortably as Max continued. “The others… Reep and Clammy, I mean, never fought Buzluc. They caught the ending to a fight already finished by Bishop. They don’t know just how frightening he was. Vel and Bishop… They don’t know… They don’t understand how it is for me, for us, low levels. It’s been too long since they were our strength. Buzluc was something else. On Earth, there is a demon named Beelzebub. A Prince of Hell and Lord of Pestilence. That’s how I view Buzluc now; as Death.”

Max rolled to his side, making eye contact with Celenia, she likewise moved, shuffling Emi into a different spot. “Beelzebub is said to always be surrounded by bugs. Minions of his suffering and acolytes to his grace. Buzluc had the same. One bit me, just past my forearm. I felt my body wither before Bishop cut- Before Bishop cut it off. I still feel it, you know. Sure, my water arm can feel, very similar to how my real arm feels. But I feel like I can feel my real arm, within the water. Does that make since?”

Celenia nodded; Max continued. “Phantom pain, we called it on Earth. Amputees reported wiggling their toes; or the sensation of wiggling their toes. Soldiers spoke of feeling pains from blasted off arms… I… Feel the same. I feel gross, like a part of me is missing. Because it is. Because of one bug, from one demon. I almost died, bleeding out while Bishop bled out from his own wounds. Only Emi knows this, but I was okay with dying in that moment.”

Celenia’s eyebrows frowned, mimicking her lips. “My body was getting cold, very cold, and I- I don’t know, I just accepted it. I was going to die, there was simply nothing to be done. But I survived, missing an arm, missing a piece of me, but I survived. There was a moment after I woke up and before I left the clinic where I had to come to reality. I was weak, powerless even. I am a stranger in these lands, one with knowledge others will kill for. I am just a man, one trying to live and one day return home.”

Max went silent before adding, “That’s why I don’t like ambushes. They remind me of Buzluc, they remind me of being weak; of what I’ve lost.” He emphasized his missing arm.

Celenia shifted her head back to looking at the dark sky. She thought long and hard about what to say, only one thing came to her mind. Something she had told no one about, truly.

“When I was a girl, me and my father were bringing our wares to town. The short story is that he was killed, I was enslaved, and I was bought by a [Plant Mage]. The longer, much longer story is about what happened between my father’s passing and accepting [Flower Mage] as my first class.”

Max’s eyes had drifted to the stars, but he turned to her. Tears were welling in her eyes, they seemed heavy, but they defied gravity and remained stuck. “I don’t remember much about the carriage ride into town. My father was dead, I was in shackles in a cage, and I cried. A lot. By night fall I was in a stone cell, no larger than a bathtub. I didn’t sleep, I remember, as I tried to claw my way through the iron bars covering the door. My fingertips took weeks to heal properly.” Celenia laughed at that. A meek, scared, nervous even, laugh.

“They removed me from my prison, stripping me of my clothes and washing me with such force they caused my skin to turn red. I was placed on a stage, kicked rather. My captor kicked me because I didn’t step out on my own accord. Could you blame me? Just a girl, a girl with her father murdered before her eyes, not even understanding what death really meant.”

“I don’t.” Max said softly.

Celenia tightly smiled. “The kick was what had done it. My new master bought me because of the kick. She took pity on me, spending well over what I was worth because a particularly sick man wanted a ‘fresh’ Elf. I remember the two bidding on me. The man was turning purple with anger, and my master… Looked on with sadness. Once we left, she taught me magic, to read, write, manners. She taught me many things; she was kind. But old, and untrusting. Told me ‘I’ve been screwed one too many times!’, when we discussed my freedom. Or rather, she discussed my freedom. I didn’t talk much back then. Anyways, I took my class and she promised to free me before she died. It didn’t go as planned, and eventually you saved me.”

“Two people, broken by ambushes.” Max said, echoing Celenia’s thoughts.

It was a small, tiny notion, but as Max’s fingers drifted to Celenia’s, the soft delicate brush sent waves through them both. As if the Gods helped, Max moved his body, leaning up and over his Elven counterpart conjoining their lips in an eternal moment. Their fears of rejection, sorrows, and scornful pasts melted away in this moment, thawing into something new. Something budding and ready to grow. Both didn’t know what the future would hold, but this singular moment it told them they would to it together.