"I am going back, Lily! There is still sunlight I can catch!“

Lily hesitated a bit. Maybe she was thinking about the betrayer as well? Or me?

"Do that.“ She finally said. "I think we have made good progress today. You deserve your sunlight.“

I immediately opened my eyes to a beautiful sunset over the forest and the mountains in the distance.

We had been at it for the majority of the day, with multiple pauses because my brain could handle only so much. These big projects took a substantial toll on me. Weaving essence was exhausting on the best of days and for smaller things. But Paradigms and gates were projects as big as they would come.

Maybe for the first time of my life, I felt the accomplished satisfaction after a day of good and honest work. And the relaxation that came after it, ignoring the slight headache all that weaving had left me with. I watched the sun go down, played with the fire while I ate, stretched the tired limbs while staring at the stars, and could almost....almost feel the hope that the Wanderer had been talking about. For this beautiful evening at least no dark thoughts came to ruin the moment.

A few days passed under that tree in calm and quiet. But before even I could grow restless, fate took the chance and struck first.

There were soldiers in the hills. Hundreds of them. I had seen them coming from miles away of course, but I had seen no better place to be then the tree blessed by the Wanderer I was already under. They were not moving as a cohesive unit. They were spread-out groups stretching as far into the distance as I could see. And they moved towards the mountains, where I had come from. Now, of course, they were not searching for me. That was an absurd thought. But they were searching for something. The ink-creatures of the deep maybe? Had they been found or were a threat to something important to the Wyld?

And the soldiers came close. One of them came over the base of my hill. So close I could see the silver dangling from the ram horns jutting out from his temples and the warpaint on his bare muscular blue-skinned torso. He had an axe, clearly intended to be used with both hands, relaxed on his shoulder as he said something to his comrades farther down and turned to climb the hill.

My breath caught a bit in my throat. Knowing a thing will work is not the same as really seeing it work. But just a few steps away from the tree he looked away with a shadow of confusion in his eyes, just walking in a different direction. The ward of the Wanderer had worked!

There he stayed a few moments, intently watching the forest and the soldiers around the hillside. Then he climbed down again, not once looking back. They began to discuss something in the guttural language of theirs before one of them raised a horn to his lips and blew. It sounded clear and bright through the hills, and I could see the demons in the distance stop were they stood. Turning their heads.

Something was about to begin.

The sound of the horn was the last sound of significance I heard for a very long time. After the scattered soldiers had heard the call, they turned toward a common destination in the forest at the foot of the mountains and just started sprinting. Not a cry or shout on their lips, but with weapons drawn and swift steps. They converged from all sides, many of them appearing where I had definitely not seen or even expected them, and entered the shadows of the trees. The small group on the foot of my hill watched for a few moments shared a few nods and shook their hands, well they gripped their forearms, and followed the others.

That was my window of opportunity. With the force of soldiers of the Wyld gone, I could slip away to the open countryside in their backs. But they were out there, they would return sometime and my blessed tree was still the safest place in the world for me. I had food for a couple of days and I had a skin of water left. Would it be the safer choice to stay and weather the storm in my shelter? It felt to early in the end. I had been hunted for a long time and I wanted my peace to last for as long as it would hold. Consequences be damned.

So I settled in a comfortable position and watched the treetops for change. And for a long time, nothing seemed to happen. That was until it started raining. It didn't come from nowhere, but I had been distracted, so that the first drops and the dark sky surprised me. And while the first drops hit me, and I disappointedly stared up at the dark and cloudy sky, I heard the faint sounds of fighting.

Change often comes way faster than anyone can anticipate. One second I stared at silent trees, the next an open brawl had shifted out of the trees and back to the hills. Hundreds of shadows moved, screamed, and fought under the heavy rain. I only knew what was happening, because I recognized the shapes involved. The horned and huge silhouettes of the demons fighting with the smaller doglike ink-creatures of the deep. and among them bigger shapes. The brutes and chasers I had seen at the end of my retreat from the silent city. I did not see a leviathan, touched by shadow or not, but then again I could not see very well in the heavy rain. I felt Zero at my side, reeling up like a cobra as if to look out as well. I touched him reassuringly, but more to calm myself.

"They can't get to us here.“ I said. As if Zero was afraid and not I, being thrown back to the terrors of the deeps and darkness. Zero nodded, being a good boy by not calling me out on my bluff.

I had made a grave mistake. I had assumed the creatures would not be able to move on the surface without difficulty. I had assumed that at daytime they had to retreat to the deeper shadows of the mountains again, lest the sun would get them the next morning. But they could move, and they had. The shadows of the trees had been sufficient to shelter them from the sun, and quite obviously the clouds and heavy rains were sufficient as well.

I had been so sure of my newfound freedom that I had stopped to run the second I felt safe. While still being hunted through enemy territory. I cursed passionately into the brewing storm, balling my fist in trepidation. Now I had a reason to root for the demons. And what an irony that was. The archenemy of my bloodline and empire, murderers of my folk and family. And the last line of defense between me and the alien dangers of the Abyss.

The demons were driven back. They did not have much organization, to begin with, and were now slowly being divided into smaller pockets and surrounded by the creatures. They fought with wild determination and a recklessness I had witnessed once before. On the broken walls of the Ravenrock. They had thrown themselves into the last ranks of our defenders with no second thought of safety or survival, screaming in anticipation of the glory their victory or death would bring them.

These demons here were less joyful, more snarling and cursing, but they threw themselves against the ink-creatures with as little hesitation as the other way around. The result was a slaughter. The demons were powerful, often towering over their enemies. I saw one crushing a chaser with his hammer while choking another with his free hand, then launching the corpse back at the attackers all while bellowing challenges into the rain. But the way they fought was not meant for retreating. They fell as well, covered under oily bodies and tentacles. Pulled down in the mud and overwhelmed on the eye level of the creatures. Both sides went down and went down hard. Every last combatant on the field is only concerned with maximizing his output of pain and death. It was surreal. I could very well see an organized group of soldiers or knights fight a measured retreat, repelling the wild attacks with the strength of overlapping shields and superior morale. They would retreat to a hill, fortify their defenses and then let the creatures throw themselves on sword and spear. But that was not what was happening here. I could not even tell which of the sides I found more monstrous, as the corpses began to pile up.

I saw Skills being used, here and there, indicating the presence of higher-level fighters in the ranks of the demons. Most fighting classes had good and strong Skills at the start, but they were very subtle and hard to catch. Again, I was very familiar with the strength of the demons of the Wyld. One of them had taken me down, after all. And I saw the very Skill that had ended my short career as the Margrave of Ravenrock displayed before me, just a hill over, were a dozen demons whirled around the hilltop, shattering skulls and throwing bodies back down.

I did not know the name of the Skill, but the moment one of the demons, a large brute with a dirty brown mane and a broken horn, was surrounded, he screamed a word in his language raising his fists in the air. His eyes began to glow and with cracking violence his muscles began to shift and bulge. While his muscles shifted and grew, horns, blades of horn even, began to shoot out from his knuckles, skin, shoulders, and elbows. He went down on all fours, transformed into an unholy war machine of rage, just pounding and tearing the enemies apart. I felt the cold sweat on my forehead under the rain, while the memories of a different life came back to me.

We had lost the walls and the Bulwark, my father, to the magics of the Wyld. We had lost everything else, for that matter, in the fighting that followed. I had gained my class evolution from [Marquis of Ravenrock] LVL 2 to [Margrave of Ravenrock] LVL 3 the second my father died. They had given the young demons the honor of the first charge. I could fight them toe to toe, but until now, to change the outcome of the battle, I had only been able to [Inspire Courage] to soldiers around me.

There were better fighters than me on our side of the battlefield of course. Knights of name and honor with their squires and lay brothers held the gates, the Ravenguard was there of course, but others in the mix as well. My father had been a legend, and his marshall should be out here somewhere. I spoke to him moments before the walls came crashing down. He gave me the order to retreat to the donjon to hold the retreat path free for the soldiers. There were others. The Lord of the Spear had come to the defense of the realm and brought a retinue of talented monster hunters. But they were nowhere to be seen. My world was reduced to me, twelve soldiers on the steps of the donjon and the young Wyldlings throwing themselves at me. And we fought like none of us had ever fought before. Because every second we held was a second the others needed to reach the thick walls and gate of the donjon. And we won the first round, if only because of my new Skill [Last Stand] let us fight through pain and injuries that would have taken us down long ago. But when there were no more young demons to kill, they sent someone with experience to finish the job. And no amount of practice had prepared me to fight the behemoth of muscle and horns that came to take me. I fell in the first attack, getting thrown against the wall and losing conscience quickly.

A behemoth like the one I now saw there one hill over, wrecking absolute devastation and destruction to the smaller and fragile creatures around him. And I saw new powers of the demons. They all had in common that they changed themselves into something new, something monstrous and strong. One of them grew a pair of thick pincers of a crab from his shoulders, snapping necks and cutting flesh. Another grew a whip of barbed tendrils on his back. The changes were unpredictable and strange, but the power of these few individuals could not be debated.

By now it was clear, that the hordes of darkness would not relent. They had died a thousand deaths, and still, there was no end in sight, as far as my sight could pierce the rain that is. The pockets of demons grew smaller and smaller. And even the group of high leveled demons over there were clearly fighting their last stand. They could kill the smaller creatures all day long, but if a few more of the bigger ones amassed, they would be overwhelmed somewhere down the line. Because they were all power, and the demons fought with no thought for safety. They began accumulating wounds.

They were on a hill, their backs against the metaphorical wall and they were being overwhelmed. A funny thought entered my mind and did not leave me. As much as I wanted it to go. These were my enemies. But then again. I had no friends anymore, and certainly not on this battlefield.

[Last Stand]! I felt the same rush I had experienced once before enter me. I was not particularly tired, but what was there was being washed away. It did not change much for me. But the group of demons on that hill? It changed everything. The pain faded, the wounds did not matter anymore. It was their last stand but...amplified. And suddenly there was no balance of power between the two factions anymore. Where the creatures before had darted in the fight, leaving a wound or two before being killed or dismembered, they now only came to die.

My Skill did not make them immortal of course. I was only level 4 after all. But I had been level 3 the last time I had activated it, and so even I was astonished by the result. It did a few things, and it did them well because it only worked in very specific and dire circumstances. And those were in defense of the Skill owner against overwhelming odds at the cusp of defeat. The Skill brought a sliver of protection, a modicum of healing for smaller wounds, and such, it eliminated all pain and tiredness and gave one hell of a moral boost. And it granted the recipients a sense of teamwork and purpose that was hard to grasp but definitely noticeable. Now... I had expected a lot. It was a powerful Skill of one of the most revered and powerful classes of the Empire of the Sun. But it was meant for soldiers who excelled at teamwork. No one had ever used the Skill on demons. And demons were reckless, focussed on attacks, strength and rage. And now they were working together.

I watched in awe how the tireless maelstrom of destruction decimated the enemy hordes. In perfect harmony, one shoved a creature off balance for another to capitalize on it and taking its head with barely an afterthought. And at no point in time did any of the wounds the demons received changed anything. The fight of the creatures of the depths was futile, plain, and simple.

And the tides of battle shifted. The pressure on the other trapped demons eased and they had more room to swing and more breath to work with. They, through the natural ebb and flow of the battle, converged together, adding their strength to others. They were not working together, but they at least fought the same battle now and that mattered.

My Skill ended the moment no creature was left to climb that hill. I saw them wordlessly exchanging glances. They had felt the difference of course, but they took what they could get. They took a look around and then charged down the hill on the opposite side of me, throwing themselves to the backs of the enemies once more

I had been concentrated on that single fight for a while now. As I was now looking around, I could see that the fight over there had been just a drop in the bucket. The fight was all around me. They were even behind me and a few dozen skirmishes farther in the hinterland as well. I was surrounded now and would be even more if the demons held on to the trend of ever so slightly retreating away from the forest.

I ran to the other side of my hill as I heard screams. It was the steepest side of the hill and had been out of my view for the entire time now. And they were fighting at the foot of my hill. There were three demons left, sieged by dozens of inky creatures. One went down, a black claw tearing through his stomach. I could see it explode in blood and entrails on his back. A slender demon, with wings on his back and a beak, danced around the smaller dog creatures hacking away with a pair of sickles. I had never seen a demon like that, but that did not mean much. No two Wyldlings ever looked the same and we knew them to adapt animalistic and strange features. He did not seem to be able to fly, or he would not have been caught in his dire predicament.

He jumped on the back of a brutish creature's head, spinning in the air to freedom and gliding downhill for a few steps until the rain brought him down. He was not strong enough to free himself a second time and got buried under his attackers. The last one was swinging an axe around while retreating up the steep and muddy hill. He wasn't aiming, he was swinging blindly and with a wide arc, to hold them back as best as he could. He was a big guy, he had easily a head in height on me and twice the weight in muscle and fat. Beyond his big frame, I could see no strange features on him, beside the bull horns which were quite impressive, that most of the Wyldling fighters seemed to have in one form or another.

Out of the curtain of rain shot a tentacle as thick as a tree, slamming the demon down, gripping him around the waist. Other smaller demons shot up the hill under the thing, snapping after the ankles of the trapped man. The demon was screaming deep and coarse in rage now, hacking at the tentacle with all of his might, parting the oily skin, fountaining black ichor and acid. From somewhere snapped a scythe-like arm, like a praying mantis, shearing through the arm of the demon which flew away the moment his other arm had swung down with the axe and severed the tentacle. He stood there, staring blankly at the stump of his arm, just under his elbow, where his blood pumped out in a thick downpour.

Behind him rose the creature with the scythe arms, slender and ducked, with limbs way too long. He had a writhing grasping beard of tendrils under a mouth that itself was under snapping mandibles. He raised both of his scythes, the massive Wyldling still oblivious to his fate.

Kingsbane was in my hand without me noticing it, my hands gripping it tightly as I swung it with every bit of strength my [Improved Strength] gave me. Which was plenty, the insect-like head flew through the air, tumbling down in the mud. I swung Kingsbane once more cleaving a chaser in half. Behind me, Zero snapped loudly and shot out as his [Chain Lash] caved in the skull of another. In the brief moment of calm, I grabbed the Wylding around his torso, throwing us both backwards into the safety of the blessed tree. Spirits! That man was heavy, I again needed every ounce of [Improved Strength].

We fell down under the tree, he almost burying me under him. I heaved him off me, rolling to me feet.

He sat there like a strange bear, his belly in his lap, his eyes staring at me in utter confusion.

I stared at him.

Zero looked at me, at the Wyldling and back to me.

The Wyldling stared at no one.

"What the fuck did I do that for?“ I whispered.

[Shadow-Ink chaser defeated! Reward: 4 EP]

[Shadow-Ink lurker defeated! Reward: 4 EP]

[Shadow-touched mantis lurker defeated! Reward: 15 EP]