Their advantage had been turned against them. Amenor’s soldiers were the ones now unaffected by the acid, by the grace of the elf’s armor Spell. And more, the allied forces, as Brom liked to think of them were boxed in, unable to flee. Advancing meant melting, even if they managed to push through the now monstrous opponents. And retreating…

Our formation is a column. Retreating would mean forming a spearhead and punching through to Helmrest.

What Brom refused to think about was all the soldiers they would leave behind. Perhaps a spearhead formation might be able to push through to the village, if Amenor’s forces still gathered around them on two sides, instead of completely encircling them. But only the front rows would be able to escape. The ones in the back would be caught and sliced open.

That was why Brom continued to fight instead of shouting for a retreat. He thought that was why the other were fighting so fiercely as well. He didn’t exactly have time to ask.

“|Target of Enmity|!” he shouted, drawing the attention of a steel-clad soldiers about to chop one of Helmrest’s villagers hand off.

The soldiers came after him, roaring.

Good.

It might have been armored in a magic resistant type of steel armor, but that didn’t mean Brom’s shield didn’t manage to blast him off into his fellow soldiers. Brom knew by now that a shock to the chest like that usually meant instant death. That the soldier was trying to get up only meant Brom had to be more relentless.

As he stepped forward, the dwarf raised his axe. It grew in length, though not size and it slashed at the soldier’s neck. Horizontally, not vertically. |False Intent|. To his merit, the soldier had tried to block, but Brom had hidden the direction of his slash with a Skill. Target dead, the dwarf retreated back to his ranks.

He had been using more and more of his cursed Class’ Skills. He despised them, but his main Class only offered them two direct Skills. And only one of those was offensive in nature. He hated it, but for his oath, for his friends, he would use them.

Though… he didn’t see his friends. He didn’t have much time to look, in between slashing and parrying, but he knew he wasn’t around them anymore. They got lost… or perhaps he did.

Damn it.

He resolved to find them. He needed to be there for them. To protect them. He just had to block the next arrow, dodge the next sword strike. Find a moment to breathe and then just…

***

…run away. That’s right, no shame in that. People who taught there was shame in running away were either taller than ratlings or didn’t live as long. That’s what Mrk had as his mantra and he was sticking by it. Of course, running way didn’t mean completely running away. Unless, you had nothing worth staying around for. But no, that wasn’t the case. Here and now, running away meant getting out of view, until the enemy lost sight of you. Then, you circle around, use |Faint Presence|, trust in your magical cape aaand…

“Aaargh!”

One magical dagger to the back of the knees. Soldier fall down. Another magical dagger to the neck. Soldier fall down for good.

That was what Mrk had been doing or the past few… second? Minutes? It couldn’t have been hours. Still, this is the only thing he could be doing. He had already seen soldiers on his side die. No one from Helmrest, but still. The enemy was attacking and there was no running away. Not for all of them. They were fighting on all sides. And no, he didn’t see Amenor’s soldiers surrounding them. Ha-ha, tall people joke. He could tell the general situation, just by getting a view of the many, many feet rushing towards them.

Which, all joking aside, were also his favorite targets.

“Aaah!”

“There something skulking around! Fuck!”

“Kill it! Kill- aargh!”

Ironically enough, this was Mrk's nicest fight yet. His short size and stealthy nature meant that he blended in quite nicely in the background, unobserved as he skulked behind enemy legs. And enemy lines. He wished he could have stayed close to his friends, but here he was able to do the most amount of good. Or… damage. Depends on your perspective, really.

He hoped nobody close to him died. He had a home again. He could never go back to his old one, but… this one was just as fine. Shelter. Friends. For them, he would fight whoever, go wherever, take whatever Class-

|New Class Available: Skulker|

|Class Level and Skills accessible after acceptance. |

|Accept new class? |

…Mrk not being literal. I says no.

|Class Refused|

|Class Level Raised: Rogue|

|Class Level: 12|

…Mrk fine with that.

The ratling carried on cutting tendons, stabbing backs and cutting throats too, if whoever went down didn’t have someone around to come to their rescue in due time. It was for the best. Mrk would have wanted to fight shoulder to… hip with his friends, but he wasn’t that type of fighter.

Besides, his keen eyes saw what those spells did to Amenor’s troops. If it wasn’t a fatal wound, they’d try to keep on fighting. And dealing a fatal wound was hard, since their new armor resisted blade and spell alike. Except at the joints, as Mrk found out.

Because Mrk best |Rogue|.

And not only were their blades and arrows now on fire, they could also cut the air. Really! It didn’t look like many of the soldiers themselves noticed, but when their swing went wide or simply missed, the edge of their swords left an after-image in the air, like a heat shimmer. A heat shimmer that actually cuts. Mrk saw one of The Barony’s archers, now infantry men, dodge back successfully from a sword slash, only for her neck to split and blood to start rushing out.

Why should Mrk fight them in the open? Why should he not take them from behind, since-

“My leg! My leg!”

-they fell down so nicely. Well, it was because Mrk was worried. Worried that while he fought, his friends were getting hurt. At least, if he could take down a bigger target he’d feel better. A bigger target like a mage or a commander or…

…or that. That would work.

Stealthily, Mrk made his way forward, grinning slightly. His target was far way, but he could get there in time. After all, it was worth the trek. Never let it be said that he didn’t pull his weight. Step by step, he pushed forward, every strand on his whiskers intent on…

***

…shooting the bastards. That was what Ava was desperately trying to do. Shoot. The damned. Bastards!

To be fair, she had shot the bastards perfectly fine until a few moments ago. High profile targets only. She was a respectable archer and an even more respectable satyr. Of course she wouldn’t lower herself to shooting just anybody, not if she could help it.

Which is why only a couple of Amenor’s commander types remained, themselves probably no higher in rank than officers and virtually no mages. That was also why Ava only had a green mushroom arrow left. No red ones.

See, she and the The Barony’s mages had a good thing going. She targeted a commander or a mage. They highlighted it. She shot one of her special arrows. They blasted the target with fire or acid Spells. End results, the target blew up, melted or both. Simple.

It only a took two or three smoking carcasses for the mages to follow her tempo. But you know, that’s just how Ava was like. Personable. Charismatic. Easy to get along with.

Which was why even after that damned elf boosted up Amenor’s thugs, she and the mages continued their dance. Only, the mages started to fight less like a unit and more like individuals after a few of them got flaming arrows through the throat. Ava killed the archers, yet there was no going back to the dance-floor.

No biggie. Ava had magic too. Or her bow did. She liked to think that she commanded magic. So she still hunted, still sent flaming mushroom arrows and watched as her targets exploded. The only problem is… she ran out of arrow and depleted her bow’s magic.

I am in so much trouble.

She never though she’s had to use |Concealed Presence| again, since she pretty much hated that Skill’s Class, but she did it anyway. It helped, since it meant the flaming arrows flying after were striking the ground behind her and not her… behind.

“|Piercing Shot|”

She didn’t stick around to see if her hit landed. The wet gurgle she heard was enough of a confirmation.

She wished she could be fighting with the others. And, though she wouldn’t admit it, she also wondered if they wished to be fighting along her side?

Probably… No! Wrong Mindspace. Definitely. That Class going down is sign of it.

It had to be a sign her friends missed her presence alongside them. Yeah. Ava sighed, but internally toughened herself. Her |Outcast| Class dropped down all the way to Level 2. The thought of it made her giddy. Maybe it was because she was fighting for and being accepted by an entire village. Maybe it was because her friends actually thought of her as a sibling. Maybe it was because Moran… oh, they had definitely moved past just ‘friends’.

No, don’t think of that. Getting horny in the middle of a battle won’t help.

…ha! ‘Horny’.

Mentally congratulating herself on another fine joke, she dashed around, occasionally loosing a fresh arrow. She’d torment her friends with this joke or another, sure, but first she had to find them. She spotted Jack some time ago. Nadun and Elia were usually in the same area, in the center of their troops. Brom… she thought she caught a glimpse of him, but she wasn’t sure. No sign of Mrk, but that was normal.

My training has made him stronger. Stealthier. Furrier… nah, not that funny.

Jokes aside, she still wished she could fight by their side, but the battle had taken them all in different directions. She was highly mobile, an expert shot. Naturally, she chose to run around while she sniped different enemies.

And it was while she was running around that her |Enhanced Vision| Skill allowed her to see… something bad. Something that she was not going to allow to happen. She skidded to a stop, shooting her last current pursuer through the eye. Armor or not, an arrow lodged in the brain usually put someone down.

She turned around and exhaled. She wasn’t too late… yet. She took out her last and aimed, hoping that the fire her bow ignited wouldn’t die out. It happened a few times. Her bow would light the arrows on fire, but the soldiers’ magical armor sometimes extinguished them. And that meant her explosive arrows turned into simple irritating arrows. Not that fire was a good match for this type of arrow, but… better than nothing. Not a great thing, when some of Amenor’s infantry already fought like |Berserkers|.

Please, let this work. Please don’t…

***

“…run away from me!” Jack shouted at the fleeing soldier.

He had been doing this for some time now. Ever since the elf used his magic to enchant Amenor’s troops. And also place a kind of a ban on them. From what Jack understood, based on both the Spell’s name and seeing it in action, it made the soldiers incredibly reluctant to harm Jack.

Oh, sure, they still fought back if mortally endangered. Jack found that out after receiving a slash to the stomach that would have carved out his liver if he hadn’t dodged. He still needed a Healing Potion after that. But if they had any choice, any other choice, between fighting Jack and fighting somebody else, the soldiers would choose the latter option.

Literally! Jack had tried cursing them, mocking them, tripping them. Nothing worked. If he attacked them, they mostly parried or dodged. Only a few had struck back, after Jack nearly killed them and even those fell to their knees after doing so.

Therefore, Jack had been relegated to guarding duty. He ran around the battlefield, tackling enemy soldiers, interposing himself between downed allies and Amenor’s soldiers, diverting the flow of the enemy attack force and many more miscellaneous tasks.

It was…

So, so frustrating!

But he had to do it. He had the incredible opportunity of finding himself on a battlefield where nobody wanted to hurt him. That, coupled with his |Leader| Skills, allowed him to help. To make sure that their defiant stand wouldn’t turn into a slaughter. His Class even Leveled up, reaching Level 12. No new Skills, sadly.

But by everything that he held dear, if it wasn’t heartbreaking. He could see men and women from The Barony, from Hemrest or mercenaries dying. Far more often than Amenor’s own troops perished. It was all he could do to prolong their end, but Jack saw an end that couldn’t be escaped. They should retreat. But how? How could they retreat when every waking second was spend defending or reducing damage?

They would need a miracle, some new angle, a…

Good target?

Jack finally noticed him. Merial. He wasn’t far off from Jack himself. He was, however, close. So close. Too close to his friend, sword raised, ready to cleave through Brom’s head, while the dwarf had his back to the knight, busy finishing off another soldier.

Jack would remember later and think of it as proof that his instincts had finally honed somewhat, as he didn’t waste his breath needlessly calling out to his friend. Instead, his instinctive response had been an offensive one.

“|Bolt|!”

His spell flew and hit the knight on the back of the head. His normal armor would have absorbed anyhow, but now that it was enchanted, Jack’s Spell didn’t even rattle the knight’s head. It did, however, distract him.

The knight turned his head Jack’s way, just a fraction. Just enough that he didn’t see the flaming arrow plunge itself into the opening between his helm and breastplate. The fire winked out after a second, but the contents of that special arrow still spilled itself inside Merial’s armor.

The man flinched, before pulling back, in spams. He still had to dodge an axe blow from Brom, who finally saw who it was that almost ended his life, but Merial seemed to hold his edge, even as his body probably felt like it was melting.

“Brom.” Jack said, coming to stand at his side. “You alright?”

“He’s alright.” Ava said, appearing beside him, huffing. “Because I saved the day.”

“I would say that you saved my life, not the entire day.” Brom muttered. “You both did. Thank you!”

“Eh, I’ll have to charge you, you know? Just a little, between fr-“

“Do you think this is a game?” Merial shouted.

The knight had stopped retreating and was now facing them from ten or so feet away. All around them soldiers seemed to have decided that they had better things to do than watch them. Merial himself was watching them with open disgust. Hatred.

“You… you abomination!” he screamed at Brom. “Do you think that just because you made friends of humans and other races, I would forget what you are? Me?!”

“Hey, buddy, can we get on to killing you already?” Ava snapped. “I’ve seen enough hatred for one lifetime.”

“You think my hatred is unjustified, satyr?” Merial laughed, manically. “That we have no grounds for our hatred? Has he told you what his race has done? What they have created?”

Jack looked at Brom and though back to his confession. To his guilt and past arrogance. The monsters he had unleashed.

“He has.” Jack said. “And terrible as it was, he has atoned for his mistakes.”

“Atoned?” Merial laughed. “Those… things murdered every human they met. My neighbors. My friends. My wife!”

Fuck…

Jack really didn’t want to feel bad for his opponent. He looked at Brom and saw grief on his friend’s face. Grief… and also resolve.

“You may not know this…” Brom started “…but I was-“

“-the one who unleashed the monsters.” Merial said, mad hatred having turned into a kind of icy resolve. “I know”

“H- how?” the dwarf asked.

“My second Class. |Avenger|. It has its own Skills. |Sense Culprit| among them.”

They looked at the man, twitching as his flesh spasmed, but staring at them unflinchingly.

“It was why I volunteered to come here, where I sensed the focus of my hatred was. It was where I found you, though I did not know it at first. It is… the entire reason I have assembled a makeshift army and came to take this village, though I did not believe in the cause. All for this. All for justice!”

“This is not justice.” Jack called out. “I understand the need to get even, but don’t call it justice. Your wife died because Brom made a mistake. One he’s suffered from. One he’s still suffering from. But you put countless lives in danger, threatened an entire village and did it all knowingly. This isn’t justice. This is just vengeance.”

The knight simply stared at them, before busting out in laughter. It sounded like crying.

“That may be so, lad, for my class is |Avenger|, not |Judge|. But now, in these final moments, I find I do not care. I will have the blood I came here for.”

Jack wanted to blast the man with every spell he had, not that it would have done much, but Brom stepped forward.

“So be it. I have promised to myself to make amends. But I have also promised to protect my friends. I will fight you alone. Come, night, let us-“

“Yeeeeah, not happening.” Ava said, stepping forward as well.

“Face it, Brom.” Jack said, mimicking her. “We’re all in this together. Now get your logical head back in the game.”

“We got a knight to kill.” Ava grinned.

Brom looked at them, perplexed for a second, almost angry. But then…

***

…content.

It was not fair. Perhaps it was not even honorable. But his friends stood beside him. And if they fought, he would protect them.

So be it.

They charged, as one.

“|Affair of Honor|!”

It seemed Merial’s king still trusted him enough to allow the knight the use of his Skill’s. Brom was almost happy that he ended up fighting the knight alone. Almost, because it didn’t happen.

“|Dispel Compulsion|!” Jack screamed, casting at both himself and Ava.

They jerked, managing to overcome that Skill. Brom’s eyes widened.

He managed to overcome a |Lord|’s Skill?

They were quite far away from Amenor, but even so… Jack had grown. Yet, that moment of confusion gave Merial time to strike.

“Come dwarf! Face me. |Multiple Stabs|!”

A pretty unknightly Skill, yet efficient. Merial’s sword-tip flashed, jumping out at Brom in multiple quick strikes. They were all blocked by Brom’s shied. The dwarf pushed forward, activating the enchantments on his axe, before using his |Quick Swing| Skill. The axe elongated itself, the axe head growing. The Skill made his strike too fast for Merial to parry and Brom was rewarded with a tremor down his axe’s shaft telling him his blow struck home. He saw the knight’s enchanted armor crack, as Merial was flung sideways.

Enchanted against Spells, not Skills. Perhaps not even against other enchantments.

Vines shot up from the ground, aiming to anchor the kneeling knight, but they withered after touching his armor.

“Fool of a child.” Merial said, standing up. “Minor Spells don’t work on me, even before that elf’s protections.”

He made to move, when a voice called out.

“|Piercing Shot|!”

An arrow spouted from his leg, between the armor above and below the knee. Merial flinched, but yanked away the arrow. It came away sizzling and the smell of burned flesh filled the air.

“Maybe not metal basket, but Skills still work.” Ava grinned, before turning to them. “At least when I hit the joints. You guys fight him up close, I’ll wait for openings.”

“Enough! Enough banter!” Merial screamed. “You fucking children! I came here to kill that dwarf. And you will not stop me.”

It looked like the knight finally had enough. He grasped his sword with both hands and cried out.

“My king. I am still your loyal servant. I am still your faithful knight. Grant me your blessings and allow me use of your Skills. |Champion’s Blessing|!”

A light engulfed the man and when it subsided, Brom could see the knight’s armor shining. Unblemished. Clean. It looked as if the knight had just stepped on the battlefield.

“|Temporary Skill: Celerity|, |Temporary Skill: Strength|, |Temporary Skill: Fine Edge|. Do you know, dwarf, that most of my soldiers are idiots?”

It was such a non-sequitur that Brom had no idea how to answer. A much more impolite dwarf than him would have answered ‘Yes. Clearly.’, yet that was not him and this was no time for levity.

“I assembled them out of dregs. Amenor’s true potential is gathered elsewhere. Training. Fighting. Should you have stayed near your kin, you could have had a chance at meeting them. But these ones… idiots. They don’t even know. The Skills they were allotted. |Windcutter’s Blades|. Have you seen it used? Do you know what it is?” the man asked quietly. “I do.”

In a flash, he moved.

Fast!

It was all Brom could do to raise his shield and bellow his Skill.

“|Shield Block|!”

But the blow never came. Instead, Brom heard the sound of ripping flesh. He heard Ava screaming. Brom lowered his shield, looking at the knight. He was still a few feet away from him, his sword having completed his arc, though striking nothing. No… not nothing. It struck the wind and the wind carried the blow.

Brom looked back and saw Jack laying on the ground, skin split open from chest to abdomen. Blood was gushing out and Ava knelt next to him, trying to stop the blood with her hands.

“Do you think a geas will stop me? That simple pain will stay my hand? Perhaps I will die as he dies. I care not.”

Brom kept on looking, as the ground was painted red.

“Your friend will die. Just like my wife has. You took her from me. As I will take them all from you. Now, abomination, time has come for you as well to…”

***

…die!

Mrk had not felt such bloodlust in quite some time. He stabbed, flashing in and out of shadows, trying to get his knives wet. Strike the knights, hurt him, bleed him. Anywhere, everywhere!

The man flinched, swinging around, but Mrk was faster. He might not be able to stab at the man’s face, not easily, but he could and did stab at his back.

Ironic.

“Fiends!” the knights shouted. “|Cleaving Arc|!”

Mrk felt a cut across his scalp. It didn’t feel deep. He pressed on.

“Mrk!” Brom shouted. “Go get Elia! Tell her we’re out of Healing Potions! Tell her Jack’s dying!”

“Stay still. Stay still. Mrk cut you… Mrk kill you!”

“Mrk!”

In response to his friend, Mrk simply shrieked. An ear-splitting scream. He didn’t hear Brom. He couldn’t. All he could hear was his heart thundering in his eardrums. All he could see was the knight.

This knight who thought he could take Jack away from him? His friend? His home?!

“Stay still!” Mrk cried aloud.

His attacks came without respite, with no intention of ever dodging. Merial had yet to use a new Skill, but the knight parried, riposted, tried to angle his sword so that he would be in the perfect position for a counterattack. And he had. Merial had struck Mrk several times, each time scoring blood. Yet the ratling kept coming. Kept screaming. And every time he struck, his knives found openings in his armor. Drew blood. The fury and hatred he was being assaulted with was enough to make even the knight step back.

“Ava!” Mrk distantly heard Brom say. “Get Elia! Hurry! I’ll hold him off.”

In seconds, Brom was fighting alongside him.

Good. Two can strike twice. Bleed twice. Kill twice.

“|Sundering Cut|!”

“|Shield Block|!”

A scream.

They all fought with what they had. Fought, even though it looked like only Brom and Mrk were the ones being actually hurt. They bled. Brom took a few nasty cuts. Mrk… Mrk was covered in cuts. His blood had already started to dry in places.

But it was worth it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elia had returned and managed to treat Jack. His wound had closed, though it left a red scar behind. The |Herbalist| had covered it with something that looked like wet moss and was forcing Jack munch on a few plant stems.

Like cow.

But Mrk didn’t laugh. He was relieved. Happier than he had ever been that his friend was alive. Angry at himself, now that he realized he had chosen to attack the knight instead of running after Elia. But he showed nothing of that. He couldn’t. He had almost no strength left.

In a daze, the ratling walked forward. His eyes were blurry, yet he still found Jack and collapsed next to him.

“Mrk!” Elia exclaimed. “Where did- How- What happened to you?”

“He’s been fighting Merial.” Jack weakly said, as Ava got up and went to join Brom. “Thank you, Mrk.”

“Mrk happy Jack alive.”

“Elia mad Mrk almost not alive!” the woman fearfully snapped.

The ratling noticed her, seeing how she was so close to breaking down. Her clothes were bloody. Her face was dirty enough that tears had made visible trails. Yet she still bent down, taking bits of chewed herbs out of her mouth and pressing them on Mrk;s wounds.

“We’re out of Healing Potions. I used the last on Jack. It’s all downhill from here.”

“We can still win.” Jack said.

Mrk didn’t think so. The soldiers around them might have been avoiding them, but that didn’t mean they didn’t keep on dying. Elia’s state was testament to that.

“How?” Mrk asked, defeated.

Jack, didn’t answer at first. But slowly, he pulled something out.

“Ava got him, though not for good. I think… this might do the trick. If you can manage it.”

Mrk’s eyes widened.

Jack… knows? How?

His pulse quickened and his head went dizzy. It was that which reminded him that he was half dead. Yet, with this… perhaps he had a chance. If his friends could give him an opening. Slowly, Mrk stood up, against Elia’s protests.

He wasn’t sure he could kill the knight. The only thing he was sure off was that…

***

…his friends were with him. That was all he could hope for.

Jack watched Mrk, as the ratling hobbled forward. He wasn’t sure why he gave it to Mrk. Well, he knew part of the reason. There was no way he could use it. Or the others. But Mrk… why did he have the feeling Mrk could?

Jack watched as his ratling friend neared the others and shouted.

“Mrk needs to get close to knight.” The ratling said. “Mrk can kill. Mrk just needs get close.”

“Mrk, you are in no state to fight!” Brom said, breathing hard as they and the knight were circling each other.

“Not that we are either.” Ava winced.

Jack didn’t know how, he hadn’t been able to see why, but the satyr was bleeding as well.

Why… oh. That’s why.

It seems that at one point in time, Ava had run out of arrows. But she didn’t retreat. Didn’t scamper off to look for more arrows. No. She was Ava. She stayed by Brom’s side and used her bow as a makeshift spear. You know. Like how a bow is normally used.

“Regardless, we can fight. Mrk will die if he gets close and we can’t-“

“Is Jack’s idea. And Mrk can do it. Mrk will do it.”

It was amazing how Jack’s vote of confidence seemed to weigh so much. Brom took a look behind him, watching Jack and Elia. He gave out long breath, but nodded.

Ava just laughed.

“We’ll rush him. Use everything we have. Ava, do you have any Skill you could use?”

“A couple.”

“Good. Mrk, when you get an opening, use it. Otherwise, he’ll be on you in a second.”

The ratling nodded and it began.

“|Target of Enmity|”

“|Foe on Sight|”

The slight moment of indecision cost Merial, as even with his speed he wasn’t able to dodge Brom’s shield. The artifact blasted Merial backwards, though the knight still managed to stay on his feet. Yet that was where Ava came in.

The satyr dashed forward and jumped, sliding between his legs.

“|Temporary Skill: Lunar Barrage|”

Yeah… no armor there.

The knight had a Skill for hardening his skin, but he still went down to his knees, as his legs buckled and gave up. Ava stood and tried to impale him in the neck, but the knight parried her, sword going at his back and standing up in the same motion, facing her.

“|Quick Swing|”

Brom’s enlarged axe hit the knight square in the chest and Jack saw the man’s armor cracking. With a scream, Merial kicked Ava away, while swinging back one handed.

“|Cleaving Arc|!”

“|Shield Block|”

It was a mighty blow. His sword struck Brom’s shield like a hammer. Yet it was also a difficult position to recover from. A perfect opening.

“|Scurred Steps|” a weak voice said.

Jack saw Mrk, already trudging forwards, blur. He reappeared in front of the knight, as the man’s sword was bouncing off Brom’s shield. Just a little to the side. Just enough that Jack could see Mrk’s eyes on him. With an unspoken question in his gaze.

Jack himself didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t know why he thought Mrk would have the best chances at hitting Merial in his blind spot. Or getting there without being torn to shreds, like the others would. But he did.

Because for the first time, he stopped doubting himself and started trusting in his friends.

The knight saw Mrk, but he was too slow. All this lasted less than a second. He tried to swing back at the ratling, sword moving in slow motion.

Too late.

“|Backstab|.”

Mrk teleported. One second, he was in front of the knight, the other he was on his back, his long-knife having already penetrated the man’s armor. Mrk yanked it out and thrust Jack’s gift inside. It was true that Merial’s armor protected him from even medium strength Spells. Or that his Skill made his Skin impervious to minor ones. The thing was… the insides of his armor were still covered with the green ooze from Ava’s green mushroom arrow. It made for a perfect container, as the moving around had spread the irritating gel all over Merial’s body.

And Mrk… Mrk had received a suitable weapon from Jack. One that Jack kept as backup, not thinking it particularly powerful.

Still a fool, I guess.

With a grunt, Mrk shoved Jack’s wand inside the opening his knife made and shouted.

“|Acid Spray|!”

The sight should have terrified them. The sound and smell of it as well. But they were too tired of the battle and the blood for it. They simply watched as Merial screamed, bellowing, his frantic spasms throwing Mrk away.

The man fell to his knees, as blood came pouring out of his armor. Blood and… other things. Jack had already learned what burned flesh smelled like. He didn’t think he’d ever learn what melted flesh smelled too.

“I… damn you… I failed.” The knight swore, now completely on his front. “My king… I have failed you… I am sorry, my brother. My king. I am so sorry.”

He was crying now, tears streaming down and mixing into the growing crimson puddle beneath him.

“My love… I do not deserve to reach the same place as you… I have failed to reclaim your honor… but I wish… just for a second… I wish to see you again. I wish…”

There was no sound after that. His body spasmed, but without rhyme or reason. Most likely the death throes of the body. The soldiers had stopped fighting as well, witnessing their commanders end.

It was…

***

…a sad ending. Yet the best they had any right to hope for.

Brom listened to the voice in his head and felt his heart grow. Yet, he couldn’t express his joy. To do so now… would be wrong.

|Class Removed: Oathbreaker|

|Class Assigned: Oathkeeper|

|Class Level: 3|

|New Skills:|

|Trustful Demeanor|

|Calming Presence|

|Class Advancement: Axe Guard –> Axe Guardian|

|Class Level: 11|

|New Skills:|

|Minor Endurance|

|Minor Stamina|

Yes. Brom felt happiness. Pride. His accursed Class was gone. He had reclaimed his honor. His New Class attested to that. And he was now… a guardian. So many blessings. Yet there was so much blood and sorrow around him.

No. This is not the time or place to express joy. Only after it has ended. Only later would he express…

***

…sorrow. Mrk felt a little of that. A lot of pride. Happiness galore. After all, everyone was alive. Everyone who mattered. But… he had used that Skill. He always hated using it. Hated it because…

|Class Level Raised: Traitor|

|Class Level: 9|

Almost Level 10. That was a usually the tier where Classes started to define you. Mrk didn’t want that. He hated it. He didn’t want to be a |Traitor|. He wanted to be like Brom or Ava. Who got bad Classes, but who were able to slowly get rid of them.

But… that would mean coming clean. He didn’t want to do that either. His past was in the past. Or was it? Jack… Did Jack know? Was it a lucky guess?

Mrk peered at his friend and saw him grin at him. Pride was reflected in his face. It almost made Mrk’s tail wag. Almost, because he could see the background too. Grief stricken men and women from both sides, covered in blood and gore. Watching their leaders fight. One side ending up melted inside his own armor.

What a messy way to die. Still. They were no longer fighting. Amenor’s soldiers looked furious, but also beaten down. Why should they fight anymore? For who?

Everyone was silent. Everyone, but…

***

…A voice in the sky.

It spoke, the cadence and tone familiar.

The elf.

Jack hoped they saw the last of him but here he was again. If it even was a he.

“Such determination and talent. Wasted on races such as yours. Yet, worthy of respect. I will remember you, orphans of fate. Yet, there is only one path this story can tread. Only one end I will accept. Soldiers of Amenor. Your commander is dead. Those who slew him stand before you. Yet you let them live. Are you not ashamed? Are you not angry?”

Jack saw the soldiers flinch, before setting their eyes on them. He started to speak, intent on telling Elia to get the others and regroup. He had a bad feeling about this. He didn’t get to.

“For your commander. For Amenor. I impart on you my gift a second time. |Mass Spell: Fury|. |Mass Spell: Furious Strength|. |Berserker’s Rage|. And for you, child, who seem so eager to endanger your life. |Greater Impact Armor|. Go forth, children of Amenor and slay your kingdom’s enemies! Charge!”

The voice cut off after that. His words were dramatic and aggressive, yet his tone never rose higher than slightly amused. Jack raised his eyes from the prismatic light that had appeared all over his body and flinched.

All around them stood men and women, eyes bloodshot, mouths snarling, looking more like beasts than humans.

With a roar, they charged.