Waldo raced down the street, his time left in the frozen world ticking away along with each panicked step. Three minutes flew by in an instant, but he did not slow down even once. Several desperate miles were put between his precious body and the absurd floating cat-dog.

[System Warning]

You have ten seconds remaining for usage of your current sigil access permissions. Please exit the local access area before the allotted time is completely exhausted. Failure to do so will result in forced removal from the access area.

[--]

Waldo hissed under his breath, but continued onward. "Don't know what they mean by forced removal, but it could not possibly be worse than what is about to happen!"

No sooner did he finish speaking than did the time run out. Strangely, he was allowed to keep moving forward in the frozen time for a brief few seconds. Emboldened by the lack of immediate response, Waldo took a few more frantic steps toward the edge of the city.

"Ha! They were bluff—" began Waldo, only to be cut off by the sudden emergence of a hideous tearing sound that took place directly behind him. He glanced back mid-stride, but had no words to express the ridiculousness of what he saw.

A giant door of light had appeared in the center of the road. Oversized gloved fingertips slipped out first, followed by an equally oversized hand. There was no arm attached to the massive hand, but the giant white glove easily floated up into the air.

"What is this?" asked Waldo in shock. The hand waved at him briefly then rotated in place. On the back of the glove the word 'Boss' glowed brightly in red and gold letters.

Suddenly, the glove rocketed forward at incredible speed. Before he could cry out in surprise once more, the hand snatched him up, whipped around in place, and then flung him forward with great ease.

Waldo flew into the air and then out of frozen time a split-second before Scott's attack truly erupted. Light without sound, the world lost all color save for a uniformity of purest white. Waldo felt the blast wave strike his mecha long before the ear-splitting scream of explosive thunder washed over the land.

The necromancer was born aloft on a great destructive wind that sent him hurtling sideways. He did not even have time to scream as his mecha's body became the short-lived vanguard of Scott's wave of destruction. It slammed into, and then through, a large skyscraping office building just before the blast tore even that structure apart.

Finally, Waldo managed to comprehend his situation to the extent that he could scream. The screams of the terrified necromancer echoed futilely through the air. Pushed forward without hope of bringing himself to a stop, continued forward beyond the edge of the immediate blast area. Carried by momentum alone now, he tore a tall wood light pole in half, span through the air like a demented fool, and clipped off of the side of several more buildings and structures.

Battered beyond repair, large sections of his mecha were broken or ripped away entirely. In the end his glorious machine was left only with most of his torso, half of one leg, and a broken arm. Even his mecha's head was torn completely off in the mad aerial journey.

Waldo was not conscious at the moment, or he would have heard his system attempt to warn him that there was only enough power remaining for emergency life support. He would be forcefully ejected prior to the power finally running out.

Scott fared little different than his would-be prey. The man-beast fell heavily to the Earth and collapsed in a battered heap. His body covered in third degree burns, he looked to be the victim of a terribly tragic barbecue grill incident.

As he lay there in the center of a half-mile wide crater crafted from his energetic outburst, the first trickle of a strange yellow mist began to drift down. The light of the full moon continued to shine on him strong for a time, but as the seconds passed the thickening mist began to block the light to an ever greater degree.

Scott's regenerative abilities, already taxed nearly to their limit, slowly shut down altogether. His body underwent a lethargic change as the energy expended during his outburst could not be replenished quickly enough to maintain his form. He began to shrink, to lose some of his more brutal features. He continued to shrink until the light of the moon as his body found a sense of balance.

His terrible wounds began to lessen over time, but not at the speeds that his body had grown accustomed. No longer purely a beast, he now resembled a tremendously oversized well-done steak of a man. Instead of normal human teeth he bore conical fangs. Patches of fur remained intact in some areas, such as his head and the fluffiness of his tail, but for the most part his body became smooth and hairless.

In truth, releasing so much of his power at once should have been the death of him. Had it been any night save for the night of the full moon, he would have died. Were he to receive any significant attack at the moment, even his regeneration would not help. However, despite the limited penetration of that light through the yellow mist, he rapidly entered a situation similar to Waldo. The moon light that did reach him managed to keep him on an equivalent to being placed on life support.

Both combatants on life support, the battle came to a halt for a time. In the interim Scott's companions bore witness to the aftermath of the event from the safety of the obelisk area.

"What in the name of the goddess was that!" cried out Princess Vita even as she clutched at her sensitive Ha-Ruulian ears. The salvation area muffled the noise of the blast greatly, but some of it still managed to make it through. In truth, they were fortunate that their ear drums did not rupture.

"I do not know," said Saelil, her eyes wide. "It seems to have been some great fiery explosion."

Chaine merely stared in shocked disbelief at the scene. A flash of light followed by the biggest explosion that he ever witnessed, there were no words for him to adequately inquire about it.

Samantha breathed in and out heavily for a moment. In a strangely petulant tone she asked, "Did he have one, and didn't tell me?"

"One what?" asked the Princess. Before Samantha could answer, she turned back to the scene of ultimate destruction. "Also, what's with the giant mushroom shaped cloud?"

Samantha's wild digitized laughter suddenly echoed through the area. "It's bright yellow!"

Everyone looked at her as though she had lost her mind. Was it really time for such frivolous laughter.

"Do you really think this is a time for such merrymaking?" asked Princess Vita.

Another voice joined there's, it too laughed albeit in a weak manner. "It's yellow... That's hilarious."

"Kitty!" called out Saelil. She rushed over to her companion's side. "Save your strength. The obelisk only summoned your ghost, it didn't heal you completely."

Upon arrival at the obelisk the team immediately tried to resurrect Kitty, only to discover a weird quirk of the system. Only Scott could authorize a resurrection, and doing so would cost a lot of experience points. However, so long as kitty did not leave the safe point near the obelisk she could appear in ghost form. Albeit, she was now in her cat form! She could not go out beyond the boundary of the safe point, and her ghost retained the appearance of her injuries despite her change in appearance, yet she was sort of alive and could speak with everyone.

The semi-transparent cat rrowled softly. "Thank you for the concern in your words, but it is not like this actually hurts," she said before she batted at the bit of metal protruding from her stomach. The bit of shrapnel was downsized to match her current kitty form, complete with the bit of intestine that was drawn out with it.

"I understand. I was once in a similar situation. Though, it admittedly took a far greater number of deaths," replied Saelil in a thoughtful tone. "Still, it should be concerning..."

"That yellow cloud is a much bigger deal! You have to think that's funny," said Kitty before she tilted her head to the side then batted her paw at the bit of shrapnel once more.

"I really wish you wouldn't play with that..." said Vita with a shudder.

Kitty rrowled once more then eyed Vita with a sideways glance. "I can't help it. When I see something sticking out and wiggling around like this, I want to play with it."

Samantha's digitized snort cut through the air, "I bet you do."

Kitty narrowed her eyes a little then shifted her weight to one side before she lashed her tail. "Well excuse me if I don't need someone to give me a free spaghetti dinner just to convince me to have a little fun."

Samantha did not respond for a brief moment, but when she did it was in the form of a digitized sigh. "I don't know what you've misheard, but no fun was had that night."

"Mhmm..." said Kitty in a drawn out manner.

"Please don't bring up spaghetti. I'm famished," said Vita.

Chaine looked back and forth between the girls for a moment then quirked an eyebrow. "Are we really just going to sit here and chat like none of that is happening out there?" he asked. With a jerk of his thumb he pointed out the burning hellscape on the other side of the safe point barrier.

Beyond the barrier little remained of the former city. Across the river, something they could see easily due to the devastation, nothing stood at all for quite some distance. Closer to their position most of the previous buildings were knocked over or left standing in small ramshackle bits and pieces. Burning debris rained down from the sky, most notably what appeared to be two halves of a propane tanker that fell heavily to the earth a quarter of a mile away. The sound was muted by the barrier for the most part, but it was obvious that the world outside the barrier was not one of silence and serenity.

The girls regarded Chaine for a moment. He tried to do the same to them, but their combined feminine annoyance caused him to turn away. Nothing good would come of continuing his line of thought.

Debris contained to rain down all around the shattered remnants of the city, but little else moved save for the creeping yellow mist. As the minutes passed, more and more of the mist flowed throughout the land largely unimpeded by the debris. After an hour it even reached as far as Waldo. Soon, the mist covered the area in a fog so thick that a traveler would have difficulty seeing their nose in front of their face.

This, of course, was the moment when his life support system failed and his mecha unceremoniously dumped him from the core of its body.

Waldo hit the ground with a wet *splat* that finally roused him from his slumber. "Wazza, who?" he asked coherently, his face buried in a mud puddle.

With a splutter and a curse, Waldo forced himself to his hands and knees. The curse died on his lips not long after as he became aware of the strange bright yellow mist that surrounded him.

"What is this mess?" he asked curiously.

A sudden ache right behind his eyes caught his attention. Waldo soon clutched his head and began to cry out in pain. Words, thoughts, and simpering emotions invaded his mind.

"No! It would not be nice to go outside for a walk now! Everything is most certainly not going my way!" he exclaimed as an overly cheerful song that he had never heard before began to assault his mind.

"It's not even daytime, much less sunny!" he cried excitedly, "And I for that matter I do not want to buy the world a Coke, or need to eat a Snickers, whatever they are!"

The more he cried out at the invasive power that attempted to corrode his mind, the more of the yellow mist that he drew into his body. Soon, it began to seep into his pores regardless of whether he breathed it in or not.

"Ah. Ha. Ha!" screamed Waldo. "Whatever this is won't get me!"

The true nature of the insidious yellow mist was revealed in those moments. Scott, having purged nearly every scrap of power within his body for one final roar, also unleashed the remnants of his garden powers. The power of the gravitas flower, the boom seed, and yes even the yellow rose of friendship were each unleashed and even magnified by the golden energy.

What were the garden powers if not sacred plants? The power of the light combined with those holy plant spirits produced tremendous change in the world.

Gravitational effects tore at the fabric of space and time thus completely destroying many objects caught at the center of the blast. Fire raged throughout the debris that once was a city, and the thick yellow power of friendship covered the land in a sickeningly cheerful miasma of good vibrations and wholesome fun filled thoughts. As those vibrations were born of the union between friendship flower and a guy who spent far too much time watching television or playing games, the images and sounds emitted took the forms of pop-culture references from his world.

Waldo fell to the muddy ground once more then flopped around briefly while he clutched futilely at his head. The yellow mist continued its unrelenting assault on his mind, one overly cheerful pop-culture reference at a time. A man of magical mysteries and research, he would normally be able to easily resist such a thing. However, the sheer magnitude of the mental assault coupled with his own exhaustion could not be denied. Long did Waldo scream in the mud as the core of his being weathered the unrelenting assault of joy and friendship that now plagued the land.

"Well, that was almost interesting for a moment. Wasn't it, folks?" asked the announcer to his equally unseen audience. A small cavalcade of cheers echoed through the air despite the fact that the battle had hit a lull.

A buzzing and clicking noise soon joined the cheers. The announcer chuckled then said, "Now Perival, you know how this works. The mission itself is nearly complete for our plucky heroes. However, none of them can leave until cat boy manages to wander back over to the safe point. Since they can't leave, they can't be seen as having evacuated the princess."

The buzzing and clicking returned, only to cause the announcer to laugh cheerfully. "Yes, indeed. Your perky ass is still on the line."

The supposedly friendly banter continued as another round of buzzing echoed through the air. In response, the announcer laughed once more. "Well, no one ever said that it wasn't perky either."

Hours passed, most of the night in fact, before the yellow fog thinned to the point that the moonlight could shine fully down upon Scott once more. His body began to regenerate at an accelerated rate, but even so it was clear that some things were different than before. He did not grow much larger than his current state, nor did he become more bestial in nature. The patches of fur did expand slightly, however.

High overhead, the crown of the mushroom cloud continued to hover despite the fact that there was no connection with the earth any longer. It was merely a bright yellow cloud that refused to leave despite the slight breeze that now blew through the area.

Scott's eyelids cracked opened even as some of his burned flesh sloughed off to reveal undamaged skin underneath. Externally, his wounds were reduced in their intensity even if he still looked like someone left him on the grill too long. Internally, however, the situation was dire.

Between the extreme withdrawal symptoms associated with the overuse of his garden powers, and the wounds received due to battle and his own actions, Scott lived on borrowed time. In fact, the announcer chose to make a note of it. "Well, folks! The champ is coming around! But the moon sets in less than two hours. Can he finish the fight before his body falls apart? Call in your votes! Vote one for yes, and two for no!"

The announcer's words did not fall on deaf ears, but they might as well have done so. Scott, in his present mental state, barely registered their existence. However, some part of him must have understood because his eyes widened further. Soon, he began to force himself up from the ground.

Exhausted beyond words, he rose to a kneeling position. Blood seeped from his eyes, nose, and ears due to his internal strain and damage. Despite the regenerative effects of the moon, his condition continued to worsen as he forced himself into a low crouch. The color drained from the unburned portions of his face as he rose up to his full height.

He took a lumbering step forward then promptly fell sideways and landed hard on his hip. His mouth fell open as if to let out a pained cry, but in the end he merely shook his head and tried to stand again.

Anger still dwelled within his giant heart, a bestial thing of destructive intent. Yet, much of the absolute rage from earlier had been exhausted along with his strength.

Scott rose to his feet and stumbled forward a few steps before he managed to maintain his balance. His great nostrils flexed as he took in a mighty breath. He then slowly scented the air. It took him a moment, but he managed to detect a trace of the one he sought. With that, Scott staggered forward once more on his chosen path. His prey was far, but even in his physical condition his strides were long.

"And there he goes, folks. Witness the lumbering giant as he wanders off into the early morning in search of a fight," said the announcer. Several minutes passed before he spoke up once more, "He's still lumbering folks... He appears a bit over-cooked, but isn't he majestic?"

No cheers rose to meet the announcer's question. The simple action of watching a giant man walking around was a novelty that did not impress the majority of divine or semi-divine viewers.

For a time the only sound that could be heard was the plodding steps that Scott made as he trudged onward. Eventually, the announcer spoke up and said, "We'll be back after a short break from our sponsors."

Perival's buzzing and clicking noises echoed through the air briefly. In response, the announcer said, "No, I suppose we don't have sponsors. I just wanted to get a drink and do something else while we wait for him to get somewhere."

Meanwhile, another creature rose up from the ever-thinning yellow fog of friendship. A thing of wild hair, wide eyes, and an ever wider grin, the horrible abomination made its presence via a mildly manic cry, "What a lovely nap!"

The electronic techno beat from earlier in the battle had long since died away, but another style of music emerged to take its place. Waldo swayed lightly from side-to-side as overtly cheerful, family-friendly, pop music that only he could hear played in the background.

Waldo's overly enthusiastic expression and manic grin granted him a disturbed appearance. Though apparently cheerful, his was the expression of a man who might terrify small children and make frightful women clutch at their purses.

He stumbled into a trash barrel. "Oh, my apologies madam! I did not see you there. I hope that I did not cause you duress?"

He knocked himself lightly against a nearby bush. "Kind sir, forgive me. Let us not become uncharitable towards each other. Let us converse in a more fitting manner, instead."

Dazed, and more than a little confused, he wandered the area briefly. Alone, at first, he was content to make friends with bits of debris, or the occasional random shrubbery. However, there was a minor problem. In the far distance, screams echoed through the area.

A show of light and sound such as the one that Scott put on earlier could not go unnoticed. Beyond the range of Waldo's soul collecting ways, a whole world of dead-adjacent creatures went about their undead lives. Tens of thousands of these former Americans bore witness to the mystical equivalent of a nuclear blast a scant few hours prior. The fastest among them, a small number of berserkers, were nearly on the scene.

Waldo paid no attention to the approaching berserkers. Instead, he focused on a new friend whom he had made. "You seem like a nice guy. What's your name?" he asked his reflection as seen in a broken window.

His mind rattled by the power of friendship, Waldo continued his one-sided conversation for a few minutes. It was not until his new friend fell backwards and out of the window frame that he became excited. "No! Did you hurt yourself?"

Waldo crawled into the window to find his fallen friend, but saw nothing but glass. He scanned the room briefly then noticed a set of stairs. "Ah! He must have gone up."

He worked his way through the building, but could not find his companion anywhere. Eventually, he made his way up onto the roof.

Upon arrival he took a few deep breaths in order to fill his lungs with the beautiful morning air, but upon doing so something began to come clear. The rapidly thinning fog down below was a heavier than air gas and it had already thinned enough above street level that its effects were practically non-existent.

Waldo's natural resistance to magical effects began to kick in again, albeit to a small degree. The noxious power of friendship continued to hold him tight within its adorable iron grasp. It would take quite some time for it to be cleansed away entirely. However, some of his manic expression died away.

"What the devil am I doing on this roof?" he asked a few minutes later. Another few minutes went by as he attempted to piece together what had happened to him.

"And that's when I woke up on the roof of this... pet shop?" he said after piecing everything together.

"I don't recall receiving any messages stating that I fulfilled my end of my contract with that nice elf whore," he said, his expression shifting from brief anger to one of mellow relaxation, and then to one of mild confusion. The power of friendship could do many terrible things to a man, including the generation of a change in perspective that made bitter enemies seem like long-time companions.

In other creatures, the power of friendship held a far worse component. It reminded the normally mindless being that it was once more than a rage-addled husk of a human being. Those who accepted that power in their hearts would begin to undergo a slow restoration of their humanity. Those who could not face the person whom they used to be, and come to terms with the horrors they had wrought upon their deaths, would inevitably follow a different path.

While Waldo spent several precious moments in conflicted confusion, dozens of berserker zombies raced headlong into the still-lingering friend zone that Scott had created. Several seconds passed as they ran along toward their mindless pursuit of the explosion they witnessed earlier. During that time a few of the zombies fell away. Their minds assaulted by positive feelings and unbidden memories of the past, they became confused and then quiet.

The remaining members of the mini-horde soon began to scream in even greater volume. They gnashed their teeth as they howled out their rage at an uncaring world. They had done things, too many things. They could not go back! They could not accept what the yellow mist offered.

Soon, a bright red light flared from the eyes of the zombies as they ran. Those who did not have eyes were not left out, an evil red flame appeared within the confines of their eye sockets. The power of friendship failed to reach them. Only the brutal rage, the undying hatred, generated by their nightmare existence was left to them.

Long after he climbed the stairs in search of his new companion, and lost track of that reason due to the effects of the mist beginning to wear off, several berserker zombies trickled into the area. Had Waldo remained inside the building, a majority of the mini-horde would have run past him. However, such was not the case. Upon seeing a band of screaming undead run by in the distance, Waldo saw his chance to regain the advantage in the fight.

"Hey!" he called to the running berserkers. "Your master bids you come!"

Some of the horde continued onward as they were lost in thought, but over half of them quickly skidded to a halt and turned toward the sound of the voice. As one, the zombies threw their heads back and shrieked aggressively.

"I wonder what's gotten them so excited?" asked Waldo curiously. They often chased prey in that fashion, but they normally came to him in a more subdued manner.

It did not take long for the mini-horde to reach his position. Once they were close enough to give them proper orders he spoke up, "My children! Follow that road and destroy anything that lives!"

The zombies continued to race forward, screaming all the while. Waldo blinked then said, "My children! Do as your master bids you!"

His children ignored is commands even as they threw themselves into the display windows of the pet shop. Waldo's eyes went wide then his head jerked toward the roof access hatch. "M-my children?"

It did not take long before flailing hands reached up to try and grasp the edge of the roof top entrance. The berserkers were in no mental state to understand a ladder due to their rage, as usage of a ladder involved too many repeated steps with multi-limb coordination. However, they could jump quite well and did have the capacity to climb simpler obstacles such as reaching his position by dragging themselves up.

The moon hung low on the horizon as Waldo rushed over to the access hatch. He threw the lid down atop a leaping zombie's head knocking the beast back down atop several of its equally hungry friends.

"There!" cried Waldo excitedly. "That'll teach you disloyal—" he began, only to be interrupted by a sudden screech from his left. A berserker launched himself forward hell-bent on getting his revenge on anything that lived.

Waldo screamed in high-pitched surprise and narrowly managed to avoid the oncoming monstrosity. The berserker continued forward for a short distance then slipped on the rocks used as rooftop drainage.

"Obey me!" shouted Waldo in the hopes that his innate power would allow him to gain control of this wayward minion.

The berserker froze in place briefly, but Waldo never got the chance to see if his command received the proper response. Another scream from behind him told him everything that he needed to know. There was a way for the zombies to get onto this rooftop.

"Dammit!" cried Waldo as he evaded the second zombie's attack. As a magic wielder by trade, his primary physical defense revolved around evading enemy attacks. Though his strength was nothing spectacular, his agility was a little beyond the limits of a normal human being.

Thinking quickly, he snatched up a handful of rocks. "Reduced to this!" he snarled.

Waldo dodged around a bit while preparing himself. Two more berserkers appeared on the roof, drastically reducing the odds of his survival. "Traitors," he said heatedly before he began to calm his mind. While he did his best to avoid the angry charging attacks of the screaming idiots, he also sought inward. Soon, he began to chant a simple first level spell in preparation of a ritual that might prove useful.

~Unholy child aborted by death. Nature decries your existence! Let the bones of the earth tear your traitor soul asunder!~

Waldo threw a rock at the closest of the attacking zombies then shouted, 'Spiteful Rebuke!' just after the rock struck his chest.

The zombie exploded backwards as through struck by a great forceful blow. A ripple of energy radiated outward from its body then washed over the other zombies including those in the store below.

Berserkers froze in place for a brief moment before the terrible red light in their eyes turned yellow. Suddenly, they began to scream in an altogether different manner. One threw its desiccated arms over its rotting face and began to blubber excessively, "No. No! Mama it wasn't me!"

Waldo gulped in large fetid breaths of air before his strength all but left him. Berserker zombies fled from him in the wake of his spiteful rebuke, a spell that generated fear and panic within the undead. Each of them cried out in their panic as memories of terrifying events from their past lives rose up to torment them.

He panted for a few seconds while zombies raced out of the building and shot off in all directions. The magical terror inflicted upon them would be short-lived, but it did grant him a moment to collect himself and make a plan.

"If they won't listen to me right now, I'll have to make other arrangements," he said after coming to a decision.

Waldo immediately sat about the task of performing the Spiteful Rebuke ritual once more. A simplistic ritual that required nothing more than his life force and a rock, it was easy to perform. However, the toll that it took on his body was immense for a first level spell.

He performed the spell in the same manner as before, but instead of casting the spell after he threw the rock, he used his life force to seal the spell within his soul. Now he could cast it at a moment's notice in the future simply by willing it to completion.

The necromancer repeated the performance of the ritual a few more times, his body condition worsening with each spell sealed within. Soon, pressure bruises began to appear at various points on his body and blood trickled lightly from his nose.

"So, this is the extent of my power? I am reduced to a few spells to rebuke the dead?" he asked with a snort. He lacked the reagents needed to perform most of his other spells, and those he might be able to utilize through simple hand gestures were of little use to him at the moment.

A sound reached his ears not long after he finished the last preparatory ritual. "Those bastards are already coming back?" he asked, surprised by their tenacity.

Waldo was wrong. It wasn't the zombies that he had rebuked. No, it was another group of the dead. Dozens, perhaps a hundred or more of the howling creatures rushed toward his position.

"Oh, you have got to be—" he began to say, only to have his words cut off by a shriek from the other side of the building. He turned to look and saw several more berserkers racing toward the pet store. "Kidding..."

He rushed to the far side of the building then looked down. His eyes went wide as he realized just how at least two of the monsters were able to reach the roof before. "You broken piece of trash!" he howled in outrage even as a zombie began to climb up the side of his ruined mecha. The oversized device acted as a perfect stepping stone for the berserkers to reach him.

More screams erupted from the darkness as even more zombies rushed onto the scene. Waldo laughed madly as the first one reached the rooftop. "You damned traitors!" he screamed at them before he laughed again, his eyes wide and his expression manic.

The half-naked berserker rushed toward him with ill-intent. Waldo dodged, but his body had become sluggish since he spent so much of his life to prepare his spells. He narrowly avoided his semi-nude opponent, but slipped on the rocks in the process. By the time he regained his balance, another zombie had arrived on the roof.

Waldo growled angrily then did his best to avoid his wayward children's advances, while he prepared to cast the ritual of Spiteful Rebuke once more. He did not want to expend his prepared spells, as they were his last line of defense.

He intoned the spell and hurled a rock at another zombies that had climbed onto the roof. "Spiteful Rebuke!" he cried.

Waves of energy radiated outward scattering the first wave of the horde in the process. Waldo watched the small army of monsters flee even as he fell to his knees. "I really need to work on my vitality," he mumbled before he picked up another rock.

Blood trickled from his ears and nose while he panted for breath. Magic in the world that he originally hailed from, Fear Rune, came at the cost of a caster's life force. Preparation of a spell weakened the caster and used their vital essence in such a way that it left obvious wounds. The stress on the body was immense, but preparing spells in advance would allow them to use them quickly while also allowing time for the body to heal. Even simply first level spells could rapidly drain the energy of a spell caster. In some realities a similar process might be referred to as casting from hit points.

The next wave of zombies were upon him in a flash. This time he rebuked them with a prepared spell to conserve his energy. It did little good in the end, however, as yet another wave of zombies appeared.

Wave after wave of zombies were rebuked until all of his prepared spells were used and he was forced to rebuke them through performance of the ritual. His body a mass of bruises, it was all that he could do to stand.

"T-this... It can't end like this..." said Waldo as he staggered back and fell to the rock covered rooftop.

Twice more he rebuked the dead, and twice more did he burn his own life force to prolong his existence. If he were to survive he would need a miracle.

"Go away, you rotting bastard!" cried Waldo before he feebly threw a rock at a zombie that crawled up the side of the building. As luck would have it, the pathetic attack managed to distract the creature well enough that he slipped on the edge and fell to the ground.

Waldo laughed weakly for the briefest of moments, before he saw something that truly terrified him. Peeking through the alleyway between two five story buildings, was the side of an oversized face.

"Y-you! No!" exclaimed Waldo as he tried to crawl backwards. "Why did you come here, bro? You're not mad are you?"

Scott shoved his oversized body into the alleyway ripping apart the corners of those buildings in a single push. Debris rained down as he slid sluggishly through the restrictive path then exploded outward as he broke out of the other side.

Over a dozen zombies howled then rushed toward the oncoming giant in a fearless display of aggression. Scott ignored them as he moved forward, his great golden eyes focused solely on Waldo.

The great beast took two steps then stumbled forward. He caught himself on a nearby building and used it for leverage while he tried to regain his feet.

Waldo nearly asked if he was drunk, but before he could do so another zombie appeared on the roof. He tried to ward it off with a rock, but the berserker rushed forward despite the feeble attempt. Unable to get to his feet in time, the zombie leapt atop Waldo and pinned him down.

Feebly, Waldo tried to block the rotting teeth of the monster as they clacked together hungrily. The zombie screamed and writhed atop him in its desperate attempt to get at his flesh.

For the briefest of moments it seemed like Waldo might manage to hold the creature at bay. But soon another howl, and then a third, echoed across the roof. His hand slipped on the zombies rotting flesh, tearing a large section of its face away. Rotting teeth snapped sideways and bit down hard on the necromancer's fingers.

Waldo screamed in pain as two of his beloved digits were torn clean from his hand. He did not have long before the others were upon him, however. Soon, he felt the decayed teeth of voracious undead tearing at his legs.

The pain renewed his will to live. He shoved with all of his remaining strength and narrowly managed to push the creature away from his face. In doing so he caught an eyeful of something even more dreadful. Scott's gargantuan hand reached over and plucked the howling zombie from atop Waldo's body. To the necromancer's surprise, he flung the creature into the air like it was nothing then reached over and snatched up another one.

Waldo stared in confusion at the mighty beast as Scott cleared the berserkers on the roof then casually swatted at the zombies that attempted to devour him. He represented a big meal to the starving dead, but he was a meal that did not go down easy.

The necromancer bled profusely from his wounds. His strength depleted, he could only watch in surprised fascination as Scott destroyed berserkers by the handful. He swept them away, slapped them into the ground, or threw them into the air with wild abandon. The moon was a bare sliver on the horizon before the giant finished off the horde, but in the end the only creatures that were left were Scott and Waldo.

"Why did you?" asked Waldo, shocked by this turn of events. "Y-you saved me..." he asked, his eyes wide. No one had ever done anything like that for him before in his life. Perhaps friendship truly was a great thing?

Scott's response was an animalistic snort. His eyes narrowed and then began to glow gently even as he spoke his first coherent waking word of the battle. "Meat..." he said, the words rumbling out of his mouth in a sound reminiscent of an angry chainsaw.

The beast's hand shot out and snatched up Waldo along with dozens of rocks. The necromancer screamed out his surprise even as he was hefted into the air. Scott had not been protecting Waldo. He had defended his meal from lesser predators.

The announcer snidely called out, "It was at that moment that Waldo received a grim reminder..."

A buzzing and clicking noise rose up, but the announcer merely chuckled. "It seemed an appropriate thing to say given the situation."

"No!" shrieked Waldo even as he desperately wriggled within the giant's grasp.

Scott tossed the red robed necromancer into his mouth then swirled him around inside a bit with his tongue. Waldo did his best to avoid the beast's teeth while he hugged the massive tongue.

"This isn't happening!" screamed the necromancer, "This can't be happening!"

Eventually, Scott caught the man's legs in his fangs and chomped down hard. Waldo shrieked and flailed around, but soon found himself slipping toward Scott's throat. He clawed desperately at the back of the beast's tongue, but could not get a grip.

"I thought we were friends!" he shrieked while tears and snot flowed freely down his face, a disturbing highlight for the expression of terrified despair now etched onto his features.

He desperately screamed, "Please, my friend! Not like this!" just before he lost his grip and slid down the giant warrior's throat.

Scott made a weird face then smacked his lips. His tongue flicked forward and he shook his head. Anyone who saw the event and lived to speak of it might have thought the great beast had tasted something unsavory.

The beast fell sideways, and landed hard upon his naked ass. He patted his stomach briefly as something inside of it refused to stop flailing around. Unbidden, he released a disturbingly high-pitched hiccup accompanied by a fluttering of his eyelashes.

The release of trapped air from his stomach brought with it the muffled screams of a man in pure agony. Those screams did not continue for long, but they spoke volumes regarding the end of the Lord of Sorrow's reign of terror. As he had done to an entire world, so too did he suffer the fate of one eaten alive by an uncaring monster who saw him solely as meat to be devoured. The power of friendship upon him, one might even say that he felt the terrible reality of a close friend tearing his body apart in blind hunger.

His reason to fight on had departed. He struggled to produce the energy necessary, but he managed to raise up his arm and stretch it toward the moon. What little energy Scott had remaining died away quickly as the moon slid completely over the horizon. Soon, it was impossible to keep his eyes open.

Without the regenerative powers provided by the full-moon's rays, Scott's many wounds and grave internal injuries caught up with him. His mighty heart began to slow, even as he took in ragged breaths of air. His still outstretched hand fell limply to the ground and then, he knew no more. Victory had come at last, but not without a dire cost.