Ooba wrapped an arm around Elma’s waist and jumped from the roof they were on with a quick burst of mana. He’d seen the ground tremble before her, and wasn’t about to let her end up like the others. She’d be too slow to avoid capture after using Strikers Onslaught, so he had no choice but to carry her.

As he predicted, the build collapsed, destruction following them as giant vines gave chase after ripping through its foundation. He could see more of the green tendrils ahead of them, and the ground rumbling in anticipation like a drawn arrow ready to be launched. The only way out was to run farther from the tavern, to retreat like he was forced to a moment ago.

“Well, fuck that!”

Ooba slammed his feet on a brick wall and with a heave, rocketed towards the center of this mess.

“What are you doing!” Elma screamed under his arm.

Ooba ignored her, thrusting his free hand forward. “Strikers Onslaught!”

An explosive release of mana kept him airborne for the seconds he needed while the monstrous thorny vines closed in. More mana than Ooba could have managed otherwise gathered into a sphere that was quickly contained in a mana shield. It was nearly all the magic he had left, but he didn’t care. He wouldn't lose, not to that little pest like Astrid, and especially not in front of Elma.

In an instant, the collected magic turned to lightning without a way to escape. This was the method Ooba used to control his focus. Without Magni’s blessing, as soon as he converted his mana, it was out of his control and would follow the path of least resistance. But if trapped by a mana shield, it could be contained.

“Your magic won’t do shit against fortress magic!” Elma shouted. “Stop being an idiot!”

“Just shut and watch me!” Ooba bellowed before launching his spell. “Thunderball!”

The ball of contained lightning blast forward, hurtling towards the tavern. Before touching its wards, Ooba popped his mana shield and shut his eyes. There was a flash, one that could have blinded him, then an unseen force slammed into the striker right after turning the tavern into splinters.

It was like running into a wall at full sprint, followed by a deafening thunderclap. Ooba, along with Elma, was sent flying across the clearing. They both hit the ground with a roll, landing in a busy street far away from the battle.

Ooba knew he had to get up and move, but his mind and vision were swimming. He couldn’t hear a thing and felt something wet dripping from his ears. Someone was dragging him, but he couldn’t fight back, only flail around in his incoherent state.

A liquid was poured onto his face as a not so friendly female voice chastised him. He cut Elma off abruptly, as soon as the healing potion she gave him returned his hearing.

“I'm not an idiot. I know lightning won’t work on a fortress.” Ooba stood, taking a moment to look himself over for injuries then beamed at Elma with pride. “What you don't know is lightning causes the air to expand. My ThunderBall might electrocute my target, but it will always cause an explosion.”

Elma rolled her shoulder experimentally as she spoke. “What I know is that you almost got us killed along with everyone else that was captured! God’s, you never think! We could have retreated and found Rollo. With him on our side, that plant monster wouldn’t have been a problem!”

“That monster isn’t a problem now because I killed it! I Won!”

Elma growled in frustration. “You haven’t changed one bit. ”

Ooba got in Elma’s face, almost touching her nose. He’d expected praise, but instead was being berated, and it was getting on his nerves. “I’ve changed plenty, but you wouldn’t know because you went running after Brand like some whore!

“I wasn’t running after anyone. I was just getting away from you and your bullshit. We’re not together anymore. Move the hell on and get back on mission.”

Despite Ooba’s anger, his guard wasn’t down. His perception easily picked up on someone rocketing toward his back with a dagger in hand. He didn't need to move to react. He simply created a mana shield around himself and the attacker, keeping Elma clear of what happened the next.

Ooba converted the last of his mana with his focus, electrifying everything around him. The bubble of protection quickly filled with smoke from burned vegetation, but Astrid could be clearly seen lying motionless on the ground.

“There,” Ooba said triumphantly. “Now who not on miss-”

Astrid, who should have been unconscious, dead, or at least stunned, tackled Ooba off his feet. She spun around him quickly locking her arms around his neck. Elma lunged forward, but Astrid simply flew into the air with Ooba dangling helplessly.

He could see her aura throttling around him. As it grew faster, the hold on his neck grew tighter. The little fey was now several times stronger than he was and with no mana left, Ooba could do nothing against the sleeper hold he was in.

He tried kicking off a wall and twisted with all his strength, but was spun around like a rag doll. He tried clawing at the arm holding him, but the small cuts did nothing and offered no help. When he reached for his knives they were gone, teleported away by the aura crushing him.

Astrid whispered into Ooba’s ear as his consciousness faded. “If you had any mana left, this could have been a fun fight.”

*******

Astrid finally dropped Ooba when he passed out. Elma had had an arrow trained on her, but the fey just laughed while spinning slowly through the air. As she did, the remains of the enchanted bracelet she used to defend against Ooba’s lightning fell to the ground in pieces. It had taken her a few extra minutes to get, but saved her quite a lot of pain.

“Your shoulder is still bruised,” Astrid said. “And with me this close, do you really think you can win?”

Elma seemed to fight over the decision for several seconds, but lowered her weapon in the end. “No, I can’t win against you, but I don’t have to. Rollo will be here in moments, so I don’t need to be the one that captures you.”

The Dimensional Lock over most of the city broke suddenly, without warning. It was not what happened when a mage canceled a spell. It was too abrupt, as if the mana powering it was cut off instead of unraveled. Doing so would result in a horrific backlash, one that a striker like Rollo would never accidentally cause.

Astrid smiled so hard it threatened to split her face. “No one is coming to save you.” Her singsong tone grew happier as she flew uncomfortably close to Emla, just like when they were children. “Now pick up Ooba and let's go. I rather not carry you both to the prison cells, unless you’d prefer to earn a few broken bones on the way.”

Several hours later, Astrid was in a special safe house prepared to hold the strikers that would inevitably come after her. She and Brand had retrofitted the old storage spaces into proper jail cells. They were heavily warded against magic and continuously siphoned mana out of the air. This would slow mana regeneration for anyone inside. They were also furnished, warm, and filled with rations for the occupants, but no one seemed to appreciate that.

“You’re going to regret this!” “When I get out of here, you’re dead!” “Every striker alive will be coming for you!” “It's only a matter of time!”

Astrid ignored it all, letting the complaints and threats melt into the background, that is until Brunhild spoke up. “Where is Rollo?”

Brunhild, like the rest of her quad, had been practically showered in healing potions. They were also given antidotes to the poison used to subdue them. It had taken most of the day to cut them from the monster plant’s stomach. Gorm had followed her orders and didn’t send in reinforcements. This gave Uhtred the time he needed to place a few preserved vellian corpses on the battlefield.

Everything had gone according to plan. No one had died and North Bastion was still clueless, but Rollo was nowhere to be found. If he were alive, he’d be recovering from a terrible backlash. He could also be dead, but nothing short of Ragnar himself could kill him. Uhtred was out looking for him now and would be back any second.

The aforementioned mage walked out of a shadow with a somber look on his face. “I can’t find him anywhere,” Uhtred said. “My guess is that he left the city.”

“He wouldn’t run without his team,” Astrid said.

“And you’re not worth running from,” Brunhild said.

“I thought it would be hard talking shit with all those teeth missing.”

Astrid spun around when the door to her base unlatched with a loud clang. Throwing knives appeared in her hand while two magic staffs shot out of Uhtred’s shadow. They were about to obliterate whatever enemy walked through the door, when they heard a soft rhythmic knocking.

Uhtred’s eyes widened with recognition. “Um… stand down.”

He immediately put away his magic staffs and activated one of the spells built into the safe house. All the prison cells became isolated. No sound could penetrate the new wards and while anyone outside could see the prisoners, their view was obstructed by darkness.

“You need to start explaining right the fuck now!” Astrid said, still holding ready for an attack. “No one else but Brand should know where we are.”

Uhtred looked a bit nervous “Yeah, about that.”

**********

“Something is loud. It’s too loud. I can’t sleep with the noise. What is making that gods awful racket!? No. Not what, but who. Wait, there’s two of them; whose. That’s not right. What’s the word again? Too hard to think about. Why do words have to be so hard? Why does it have to be so loud!? I just want some gods damned rest, but Astrid won't stop talking. Astrid? Who is that? I know I know her, I think. She's annoying. Her hair is blue, black, or... I don't know. But how do I know her? She's my… mother. That doesn't feel right, I don't hate her. She's my… student, yes! I'm a teacher. I'm a striker. I'm a-”

Rollo's body shuddered violently as his mind reoriented itself. A mass of blood-drenched flesh gushed out of the stump of his neck quickly coming together. The first thing to form was a single eye that darted around like a whip. Next came his tongue that seemed too long to fit in a human mouth. It slowly retracted to rest in what now came close to an approximation of a head. Next, his hearing came back then his sense of smell, taste, and finally touch when his skin fully reformed.

“That was gross,” Uhtred said, breaking the silence.

“It doesn’t feel all that good either,” Rollo said with a frown.

His eyes were locked on Amra who stood behind Uhtred with false surprise expertly painted onto her face. A smile broke the facade as she placed a finger across her lips warning him to stay quiet.

The fact that he was the only one that noticed her gesture proved that Astrid and Uhtred were under the effects of her divine nature. They’d perceive her as much as she wanted them to, making hiding from mortals much easier for her than most gods.

Rollo coughed before speaking to clear the last bit of fluid from his throat. “Before I say anything, who is she?” he pointed at Amra.

Astrid glared at her partner in crime. “Yeah! Who the fuck is this bitch!?”

“Runa,” Uhtred answered. “You know her, and don't call her a bitch.”

“No, I don’t. You know her. She’d not my girlfriend and if she were, I wouldn’t tell her about our safe houses!”

“Well, it’s a good thing I did. We wouldn’t have Rollo if I didn’t.”

Rollo looked at the furnished cage he was in and the chains shackling his wrist. He’d probe for a way to break them later.

“And how exactly did this pup kill not only one of us, but an apex mage?” Astrid asked, twirling a knife in hand.

“Why isn’t he dead?” Runa asked, her voice quivering in fear.

“He’s a demigod,” Uhtred explained.

“Just go ahead and tell her our secrets why don't you!” Astrid exclaimed.

“How is that a secret. Is there any other way someone grows their head back?”

Runa tilted her head in curiosity. “And what do you mean one of us.”

Uhtred sent a smirk Astrid’s way. “Now uses telling secrets.”

Astrid facepalmed, realizing the striker oath wouldn't react if she spoke without thinking.

“Enough!” Rollo ordered instantly silencing his former students. He then addressed his sister in disguise. “I just want you to know, that trick won’t work on me twice.”

“What trick?” Astrid asked right before screaming and teleporting away.

Where Astrid had stood was a shadow in the shape of a large wolf’s head. If it had closed its mouth around her, she would have been eaten in one bite. When Rollo followed the creature’s length, it extended up the wall, along the roof, and back down to connect to Runa’s shadow.

“This is my divine blessing,” Runa beamed happily.

“That’s a shadow hound!” Uhtred exclaimed. “I see them and more in the shadow realm every once in a while. They don’t attack me, but they definitely don’t listen to me.”

“They only listen to Amra,” Rollo said, earning an angry look from the goddess.

“I only have control of this one,” Runa added, lying through her teeth.

Astrid huffed speaking in a feign tongue to keep her out of the conversation. “Well, you get to explain her to Brand.”

“What makes you think he’s coming back?” Rollo asked, matching Astrid’s speech. “We’re tracking his mana just like yours. Cull probably already has him.”

“Like you had us,” Uhtred said mockingly. “I’ll take my chances. If he’s not back in a week, then we’ll talk.”

******

Brand‘s feet skidded across the ground as he came to a stop. Gone was the tightly packed snow and ice that accompanied every step of his journey. Now he stood on luscious green grass that felt almost too warm compared to the mountains. He sat down to catch his breath and looked down at the King’s Road below.

Two castle-like structures sat side by side with about 600 feet of cobblestoned ground between them. It went on into the distance with complete uniformity on all sides except for the makeshift town boarding it. But it was what traveled the King’s Road that caught Brand’s attention.

“Gods damn it,” Brand muttered to himself.

“What is it?” Thora asked from within her dragon core. “I can’t see that far without a body.”

Brand’s voice was filled with excitement. “There’s a Grinanian army traveling the road. I need to beat them to South Bastion.”

Empowering his eyes to take a closer look, Brand saw who the troopes truly were. While many did raise the Gridanian flag, very few were human. Most were beats kin running on all fours in their werebeast forms. That meant the average cultivation rank of the troops was four. It was the minimum rank required to gain the lycanthropy augment.

The human officer's strength on the other hand could range from several times stronger than their troops to several times weaker. They also were not restricted to being cultivators or what magic they could learn. The only spell every human in Gridania’s military had to learn were the runes to activate the explosive collars around every beast kin’s neck. That was how discipline was maintained in the army of slaves.

“They’re probably already there,” Brand said. “The leadership probably went ahead of them as envoys.”

“You don't seem too torn up about it,” Thora said. “It’s like you wanted this to happen.”

“I didn't,” Brand reassured. “Vara being summoned changed my time table, but I’m flexible. If we travel off the King’s Road, I can make it in time.”

“But I do look forward to seeing some old friends,” he thought in silence.

“You mean through the forest filled with monsters?” Thora said with a chuckle.

“The fastest route is always in a straight line.”

Brand Sky Stepped into the air at a sprint and made his way over the town bordering the road. Flying over the walls was prohibited, but they weren't guarded by men. Orbs of light floated near their top guaranteeing death for all but the strongest magic users. Brand headed right for them, absorbing the mage bolts and lighting they fired consuming them when touched directly.

After absorbing ten of the ani flight spell orbs, Brand flew through the air with the power of his aura. There was no need to run anymore. He’d be in South Bastion within the day and wondered if Gidania’s king would be taking part in the coming war.