The procession trudged through grassy meadows, stamping over dandelions and daisies. It had been a day since they had escaped from Valrun’s Keep, and they hadn’t stopped to rest once, not even when night had fallen. Rather, they had made good use of the shaerds’ advanced night vision then, aware that they would need to steal every second they could to outrun the ratkin. The set pace had been demanding on many of them, in particular the haggard dozens who had lived outside the fort. Still, the thought of the vermin hunting after them kept them moving, imbuing strength into their quivering limbs and breathing air into their deflated lungs.

The names of the soldiers who had stayed behind to give them enough time to escape had disappeared from the citizens list an hour after their departure. Following this, Amara had also been forcibly booted from the mayoral position, likely something to do with the hub crystal, Silas had supposed. Either way, it was clear that the fort had fallen, so everyone else had cut their connections with Valrun’s Keep after that.

Still, the ratkin weren’t dumb: the vermin knew they had escaped and had undoubtedly found their tracks by now, so there was no question on whether they were being pursued. They could only hope that they made it to Riverside before the ratkin caught up, otherwise the sacrifices would all go to waste. Silas had considered rushing to Riverside by himself to gather an army, but even from here that would take several hours, time which could be critical for the survivability of the group. As such, they continued treading on, praying for the best.

As the hours passed, the night’s veil peeled from the sky and golden light peeked from the horizon. They were passing over a minor hill when Silas spotted their pursuers at last. To the others, they were little more than a dark speck in the distance, but he discerned the numerous ratmen who formed the gloomy smudge, marching ever closer at a swift pace. Finding Amara at once, they considered the situation and hastily made the decision to hold fast on the hill.

When they publicly declared this, a multitude of emotions swept over the group but none of confidence. The bone-tired humans and cracked appeared to regain enough strength to march again, run if need be, but both Silas and the princess knew that their sudden surge of gas would vanish from their tanks as quick as it had come. For this reason, it made more sense to hold onto this vantage point than to allow themselves to be outstripped in an hour and backstabbed to death. At the very least, the situation wasn’t as hopeless as before since the ratkin had halved in numbers since their attack on Valrun’s Keep.

However, that wasn’t to say it would be an easy fight as Silas made out at least a dozen sorcerers, their cowls failing to hide their menace, as well as two scores of archers and three of armoured infantry. There were fewer bucks than he would have liked, as it seemed they had been swapped out for more advanced troops. In addition to all of this, he spotted a handful of long-limbed ratmen armed with metal staffs. They wore loose green robes and had auras that blazed almost as brightly as Laerdya’s, a most worrying sight.

In contrast to them, the human and shaerd army looked as pitiable as a flea-ridden beggar next to a refined lord. Although they now outnumbered the ratkin, the difference in quality was dismaying, to say the least; there were enough shaerd soldiers to match the ratkin, but Silas knew, if put in an even fight, they would crumble in a matter of minutes. Besides them, there were some thirty humans and fifty cracked fit to fight as the remaining dozens were only well enough to hold weapons but not wield them.

Despite this, Silas was still determined to win. The plan he and Amara had hurriedly come up with was simple but hopefully effective: when the armies met, the surviving royal guards were to accompany several other elite soldiers in targeting the sorcerers, trusting their magic resistances to come out on top. Simultaneously, Silas was to go for the skitterstaffs who dripped equal amounts menace. He would be aided by the remaining elite troops, although there weren’t many to talk about: just a few handfuls of pink shaerds and five humans. Out of them, he only knew one personally: Brigette.

The blonde with the pixie cut looked severe as she watched the enemy’s progress, her hands clenched around her sword and shield. She spoke suddenly, hooking Silas out of his thoughts. “Hey, I never did thank you for saving us. And, uh, sorry for acting like such a bitch then.”

Pleasantly surprised by her forwardness, he replied, “You were under Nicon’s mind control back then. Let’s just sweep bygones under the rug now.”

“I’d like that,” she admitted, shifting her weight off her injured leg. “By the way, I heard the shaerds chatting about the tale of you and Mia breaking into the throne room by yourselves. You reckon you can be a hero here as well?”

Lips curling into a wry smile, he rolled his eyes and wondered if she was poking fun at him or whether she truly considered him a hero. Either way, his answer was the same. “Maybe, maybe not. I was hoping you would bear some of your load as well this time.”

She laughed freely, giving him the finger with a shake of her head. “Will do, boss, will do.”

He glanced back, spotting Ethan and Olivia at the back of the army along with the other non-combatants. They were under the orders to run if the frontlines fell apart. Of course, they could start now, but Silas and Amara were being extra-careful in case the missing half of the ratkin army were in fact skulking around in the shadows. Maybe they really had been deployed elsewhere, but there was no need to test that theory just yet by using their most vulnerable troops as bait, nor would he stand for it.

Mia was with the royal guards, at least those who had survived the slaughter in the throne room, as she was the only mage on their side who could go head to head with the sorcerers. Although he would have rather had her watching his back, he would have to make do with Brigette and the others. It would have been nice if Bandit was there, but he had ordered the owl to only attack at opportune times after it had divulged the danger the sorcerers could pose to it if they focused on it.

While their army filed into rough lines, the ratkin came to the foot of the hill, about a kilometre away, and paused. For a moment, Silas thought they were going to advance slowly, giving the shaerd soldiers ample opportunity to rain arrows down on them, but instead the ratkin abruptly swarmed forward, scrambling up the hill. They separated and gave space as the arrows shot down, avoiding most casualties, while at the same time the ratkin archers followed at a more subdued pace. They clustered together and began firing on the high ground, giving the shaerd the perfect opportunity to fire back, but their counterattack did little as the sorcerers raised massive mana barriers.

Silas’s eyes widened as he hadn’t even known they could be made so big. He hoped they would at least drain their mana quickly, but he couldn’t think on it for much longer as arrows arced down on him now. Many soldiers raised shields, proficiently blocking the projectiles, but many others lacked them and came riddled with arrows. Silas danced around the projectiles, finding them slow and predictable. His gaze drifted to the skitterstaffs leading the ratkin with long and swift gaits, wind ruffling through their green robes as they hopped closer and closer. They were spread out across the vanguard, advancing in line, when abruptly they all turned towards Silas and headed to his position.

This too was an unpleasant surprise as he wondered why they focused on him. However, his answer came easily: even during the first ratkin attack in the cave, the armoured ones had identified him as a troublemaker, so it was likely that the local ratkin base had a dossier on him. His suspicions were answered when one of the skitterstaffs called out, its voice pitched high but not ear-piercingly so. “You’re far from your village, Headsman of Fah’Rehak.” Arrows fired at it, but it waved its staff about with ease, flicking the projectiles away.

Silas didn’t have the time to consider his given title, let alone answer, before the skitterstaffs came into range, all five of them. One swung down in an overhand blow with enough force to crush his head, so he sidestepped and jabbed, his spear licking out like a snake’s tongue. He drew his spear back with haste as another swept low, forcing him to jump. As if co-ordinated, the third swung just in time and just in position, batting him like a dusty old baseball. It sent him flying, his ribs cracking from the blow and pain clotting his mind as he lost grip of his spear and dropped it.

The final two skitterstaffs warded off the humans and shaerds around him, swinging in sweeping blows to keep them from offering aid. Brigette circled them slowly, humming progressively louder until it reached Silas’s ears. It cut through the haze of his mind and offered strength, pulling his body back into his control. In that split second, he activated Luminous Land (the ability he had unlocked after completing his quest on Laerdya). It was his first time using it in combat, but it came naturally to him as everything in a five-metre radius fell under his knowing gaze. He could see every motion there in his mind’s eye, and the feeling of omniscience was rapturous.

The batting skitterstaff was on him in a perfect follow-up but he was quicker still, hooking his axe from his belt and swinging into its chin in an underhand blow, all in one smooth motion. The ratman tumbled back with a harrowing scream while another took its role to finish him.

Unfortunately for it, Silas flung his axe into its face, the bladed edge gaining purchase on its eyeline and blinding it. The last skitterstaff on him tried to complete what its kin couldn’t do, confident now that the Duellist was disarmed. It thrust, but he threw himself to the side, barely missing the staff and tumbling into one of the two skitterstaffs warding people off. It lost its balance and got slashed from several directions at once, allowing Silas to scramble by and slip through the frontline. The two uninjured skitterstaffs tried to catch him but they were blocked by shielded shaerds, so instead they held their ground as the wave of ratkin arrived and crashed into the frontline.

The skitterstaff on the left had barely heard the scream, “MOVE!”, when its opponent in front jumped to the side, opening up space. The Duellist came barrelling through the cleared area having stolen a halberd from elsewhere, goring the skitterstaff right through its chest. He pulled out and slashed once more, leaving it defenceless as a flurry of blows rained down from its surroundings.

Silas grinned savagely, his body more receptive to his commands than ever before. He could still hear Brigette’s wordless song from closeby, providing a calming backdrop to the clamour of violence. It imbued him with a spirit he never knew he had and dulled the pain throbbing from his broken ribs. Combined with the perfect knowledge of his surroundings provided by Luminous Land, he felt unstoppable: he wasn’t out here to whittle his opponents down with Harrying Blows anymore; he was out here for blood.

Catching the eye of the final uninjured skitterstaff, it watched him collectedly as he attacked with a lousy blow. It parried and swung upward in an underhand stroke, whacking his recently acquired halberd out of his hands. A small smile crept onto its face as it finally looked to end him, only to see that he had vanished. Little did it know he had intended to rid himself of the halberd, instead rolling across ground to pick up his spear.

By the time it caught sight of him again, it was already too late as he was back in his element. He executed it at once and swept through its remaining kin, before starting on the armoured infantry. The fall of the skitterstaffs was a major morale loss for the ratkin, and the sorcerers stopped wasting their mana protecting the archers as they reduced their mana barriers and searched for enemies to blast into pieces. As if by coincidence, the blue shaerds were nearing them just in time.

The sorcerers shot out ghastly green fires, but the shaerds charged through all the same, the flames singeing their skin but doing no critical damage. They worked together in teams, chopping down the barriers and slowly but surely chasing down the sorcerers until the last few turned tail and fled. Mia shot down two with her lightning bolts and water jets, while Bandit hunted the survivors from their blind spots.

Despite all this, however, Silas had been right in his grim expectations for the rest of the fight. While they had expertly dealt with the specialised troops, it still left the ratkin infantry and archers who were well-trained and fought fiercely, even without backup. They would have crushed the shaerd and human forces too if not for the major figures on the opposing side who reversed the outcome. Even then, it was an ugly victory with bodies from both sides littering the hill, many having rolled down into mounds of corpses at the bottom. It reeked of freshly spilled death and looked just as bad.

All the same, the human and shaerd forces only allowed themselves a short rest before starting on their way again, unwilling to risk another ratkin force catching up to them. The weary lots who had not joined in on the combat carried those who were too injured to walk. As such, the procession continued to Riverside, dripping blood across their trail.