The draconic tide rushed in at Hirrus. It seemed that the time for whittling his enemies down and thinning their numbers had passed.

Now was the true fight.

Icy greataxe and hooked blade against an army of Merciless foes.

Both his weapons lashed out at the first foe. The sword ripped across a scaled midriff in a critical hit for nearly eight thousand damage.

When the icy greataxe caught the same enemy in the center of their chest, it activated a double strike, hitting once immediately for five thousand damage, and then again for three thousand five hundred. The two blows together would have felled any mere adventurer, even as both strikes applied a burn effect that kept chipping away at their hit points. But as a Merciless, this foe barely staggered.

Claws lashed out at Hirrus, and he danced back, but another enemy was coming in from his left with an ornate - almost decorative - warhammer. And another on his right with a comically oversized greataxe, with a blade almost too notched to be usable. His icy greataxe was heavy enough to catch the hammer haft-to-haft and parry it away, but he was forced to accept the axe to his shoulder, suffering three thousand damage and nearly being thrown to the ground.

His sword lashed out, cutting up under the armpit of the axe-wielding Merciless. It was another critical hit, and a double strike at the same time, dealing eight thousand six hundred damage on the first strike, and six thousand on the follow-up. The Ravening Burn seared the wound closed after a single gout of blood and the axe-wielding Merciless scrambled back and away with a howl of pain.

Even though another foe was already ready to step up and replace them, their reaction surprised Hirrus, and gave him a moment of hope. The process that freed them of their decision tree - and the Merciless form as well - were best for amplifying the power they already had. A guard, a captain, or a general were made immense threats by the process. But normal civilians? People like Barin and Dahlia and Julissa would only be a half-step above an adventurer even with piles of gear and Arcana. It was possible that the force arrayed against him was more bark than bite.

The next foe who stepped up was all claws and teeth, launching themselves bodily at him, moving too fast for it to be anything but an Arcana. Three claws lashed across his cheek, cutting into him for a few thousand damage, and nearly leaving him open to the giant toothy jaws as they snapped closed. He only barely ducked under and drove the blade of his icy greataxe straight up into their gut, dealing another critical strike. With all his Arcana combined with the Crushing Blade buff he’d accumulated thus far, the strike did ten thousand damage, and the accompanying burn effect was a flash of flames instead of just a smolder around the wound. The scaled foe coughed and fell back, retreating into the crowd.

A warhammer smashed into Hirrus’s hip for two thousand damage, and then whirled around again for another pass. As fast as Hirrus’s hooked blade came up to parry the next strike, it was coming around again. Its wielder’s arms were a blur, again clearly influenced by an Arcana. The hammer landed across his shoulder for another two thousand damage, and Hirrus fell back, even as the surging mob of Merciless moved to encircle him.

He couldn’t allow himself to be surrounded by foes. Not when their Arcana was complicating the fight. He had to even the playing field. In his heart, he felt confident that his physical might - augmented by his buffs - would be enough to win the day. He just had to reduce the fight to those elements and give himself the advantage.

And he knew just how to do it.

Hirrus whirled, facing the heart of the army. Opening his mouth, he belched an Arcana into the crowd. Homaridiation sprayed a cone of eight thousand damage across the crowd, and created a huge swath of glowing green earth beneath them. Split Second was ready again, and Hirrus rushed into the middle of the glowing wedge of ground.

In this space, no Arcana could be activated, though it wouldn’t dispel the Arcana already active upon him.

There was a moment’s hope that his foes might be afraid to face him in the Arcana-dead zone, but no such luck. They jumped at the chance to encircle him, and it seemed for a second that they might try to envelop and crush him with the weight of their bodies. But they still believed that the fight was theirs to win, and those nearest attacked with weapons and claws, swinging wildly at him, heedless of his own attacks, or the glowing earth that stopped their Arcana.

Hirrus could not ignore their attacks in turn. Homaridiation dealing damage to many targets had activated his Cosmic Barrette enough times to restore the hit points he’d lost. But he was now unable to use further Arcana. The Barrette would be unable to heal him until the Arcana-dead zone ran its course. He focused his attention on his defense for the first volley of blows, parrying with both weapons and twisting, ducking, or weaving to avoid what he couldn’t block.

When an opening appeared, though, he didn’t hesitate. His blades lashed out, carving into foes with deadly precision. Terminus Grip was possibly the most powerful Arcana Hirrus had now, as it seemed unlikely that a strike failed to be a critical hit, and each one did devastating damage. The Ravening Burn was putting up close competition, though. Even after foes took enough damage that it sent them scrambling away, they were still burning from his attacks.

With his buffs active, his foes unable to match him with Arcana, and his Crushing Blade buff maxed out, he stood his ground, surrounded by Merciless foes, dishing out significantly more damage than he took in turn. At some point he realized he was roaring out a joyous bellowing laugh. Despite all the tension and the indomitable odds, a part of his heart was singing. He was living for this moment on the edge of disaster. Dancing around weapons and claws and fangs, reveling in the rough feeling of dragging resistance whenever one of his blades found flesh.

It was nearly a full minute before he realized his efforts were futile.

Hirrus’s Arcana were starting to fade, and he was preparing to use High Jump to get into the air, using the moment of elevation to refresh the ones that had passed. Fleetness of Tonner was pulling ahead as his favorite of his new Arcana, since its duration was refreshed when he dealt damage, and that little bit of speed was carrying him through the brief downtime between buffs.

At that moment, one of the weapons that nearly took his head from his shoulder was familiar. A greataxe with a blade too notched to be a cutting edge. His gaze followed the haft of the weapon to its wielder, expecting to see a foe he could finish. He had hit them very hard only a few moments ago.

The fight might be approaching its end if there were no more uninjured foes to throw at him.

When he saw the Merciless with the notched axe, though, there was no sign of the seared wound under their arm. They were unharmed, returned and ready for the fight.

They were healing.

Suddenly the weight of the foes arrayed against him seemed that much more indomitable. And just then, the sickly green glow of the Homaridiation Arcana faded.

Hirrus anticipated a response to the opening, and activated High Jump immediately, launching himself into the air. The space he had just occupied suddenly exploded in a half-dozen colors as Merciless rained Arcana down on where he had been. Breath attacks, beams of light, and a hail of glowing bolts filled the space. He didn’t have time to gloat at his dodge. He needed to get his buff suite running again, and find out how his foes were recovering from his attacks.

As one Arcana after another suffused his form, empowering him, he oversaw the battlefield from above. Some of his foes were flinging attacks against him, but he only had eyes for the larger picture now.

Where he stood was a mess. A giant mob gathered around him, waiting their turns to filter forward and attack. But from above, it wasn’t just a big ring, but a comet. The tail of it was a half-dozen foes moving away from the crowd, nursing burning wounds as they moved towards a fixed point outside of the melee, with a half-dozen more moving back towards where he had been, in fighting shape once more.

And there at the end of the line was three people, the flash of Arcana revealing them to be the source of the problem.

Despite himself, he pointed his sword at the trio of healers. If he was going to overcome this army, they needed to die.

And, as he pointed, one of them did.

There was a flash of energy. A familiar-looking mote of arcana streaked across the battlefield and popped against one of the injured Merciless. As one, all of those gathered turned to the source of the sound with alarm and anger, even though the Merciless who had been struck seemed nearly unaffected by the attack. In that moment, she struck.

A flash of red hood appeared behind one of the healers, and they erupted in a fountain of blood, a thick-bladed dagger drenched in red vanishing into invisibility again.

Nidra and Alric were no match for this kind of force toe-to-toe. Not the same way Hirrus was. But they had their own way of fighting. Their own limitations, but their own strengths as well.

As the High Jump ended and Hirrus descended upon the crowd of Merciless monsters, he was not just refreshed numerically by the restoration of his stats. He was refreshed mentally as well.

He now knew that he didn’t fight alone.