Kendrick stared blankly at his friend’s unmoving body.

“Kendrick, I should have said this earlier.” Her voice echoed in his mind clear as day. “I have a hard time saying a lot of things. Kendrick, you—” Reliving that bolt of infernal lightning made him flinch every time. Whether it was the shock of the situation or the literal electric shock still frying his nerves, he couldn’t help but relive the moment that had just happened to him again and again, like poking a toothache with his tongue.

“I need a healer! Right now!” Bellara screamed hopelessly. “Don’t you fools hear me? I said NOW!”

The Slayers of Adrogan who were proficient in healing were focusing on other victims. Two were on Olser, the leader, while another was tending to Tanathil, since moments like these demonstrated the crucial role healers played in combat. Kendrick remembered the elf’s words to him earlier in the battle: “We just have to hope for the best, Kendrick. Do what must be done and... take stock at the end.” Despite having heard of the horrors of war, and this one in particular, for some reason, Kendrick never predicted so many casualties among his friends. Two friends in two days... If Tanathil were awake, he’d try to heal Sahni, he thought. Why isn’t anyone else?

“It was her idea that managed to put a dent in the Dark Lord, and you won’t even lift a finger to help her when she needs you?” Bellara growled at the healers. Her voice cracked with desperation at first, but then she glared at them with violence in her eyes. “Fine, you ingrates. I’ll do it my damned self! But I won’t forget this.” She knelt down next to Sahni. “Bhisalva.” The healing spell. Kendrick knew there were more complex variations of it, like the kind Tanathil had used to restore Sahni’s severed arm, but at its root, it came down to one arcane word. “Bhisalva.” Bellara held out her hands over the motionless witch’s body.

Nothing happened. As she had proudly said herself many times, Bellara was not a healer, she was a battle mage. Kendrick feared that she would not have much more success than he would at healing whatever was left of Sahni... if, indeed, there was anything left.

In the background, the battle still raged. Legions of archers fired arrows at the hulking mass of pure blackness where Urobius had stood. Spellcasters hurled magical attacks of every type, some of which Kendrick had never even seen. The solar eclipse was still in full swing and washed the Plains of Anurath in abject night. The Underworld was at the absolute height of its power. The throngs of demons, jinn, and imps surged forward against Kanthian forces like a tidal wave crashing against rocks.

Eroding them away, little by little.

Kendrick knelt next to Bellara and put a hand on her back. She bucked it away at first, scowling—until she saw that it was him. “I’m... I’m doing my best. It’s a simple enough spell.”

“Bell,” he said softly. “I... What can I do?”

“You’re doing everything you’re supposed to be doing, Kendrick,” she replied. Her voice seemed to catch in her throat. “So am I. So was...” She allowed herself one tiny whimper before she regained her angry façade. “We could get back to the fight if we had some help from the actual healers! I did my part! We all did! I ask again, will somebody please get over here so we can—”

“The girl is dead, all right?!” one of the healing wizards snapped at her. He matched her angry energy as he knelt next to Tanathil, who looked no more healed than when he’d started. “She’s dead! Sooner you accept it, the sooner you can help the living!”

This isn’t real, Kendrick thought. He could hear Bellara’s muffled crying reverberating off the walls of his mind like water dripping softly in a cave. Is any of it real? The Prime Sin Adrogan... the Rift... the demons... killing the jinn... the imps in Timberford...

He remembered the first time Bellara gifted him the lens and the Psysword. He remembered the way she gently placed her hand on his and closed his fingers around the Psysword’s hilt for the first time. The shade in the cave. One solitary, practically harmless mass of shadow gliding silently toward him. He’d been afraid at first, too afraid to move.

Eventually, though, he learned to do what needed to be done.

Now the shadow stood nearly as tall as the heavens themselves and proved itself to be far from harmless. The shadow loomed so large that it blanketed the whole world in its darkness.

Sahni... Gydeon... All of Sahni’s family... All the villages and towns that were lost to the invasion... If they’re all gone, and I’m still here...

“If Sahni really is gone...” Kendrick said, standing up. “...then I won’t let her sacrifice be in vain. Or Gydeon’s. Or anyone else’s!”

“Kendrick, no!” Bellara cried. She held one healing hand over Sahni’s body and grabbed his forearm with the other. She grabbed him so tightly that her fingernails dug into his skin—hard enough that she drew a little dot of blood. “Don’t, Kendrick. Don’t leave me! I can’t lose...” There were tears in her eyes, glistening in the impermanent lights of spells cast all around them. “I can’t lose anyone else today. What are you doing?”

“None of these other spells are working on Urobius. Only the pure aura beam spell could even touch his shield. So, I’m finally doing what you brought me here to do, Bellara. I’m doing my part to save the Ecumene... just like Sahni did.” He gently placed his hand on hers and opened her fingers, freeing his arm. Bellara looked like she desperately wanted to say something to him but the words wouldn’t come. He knew that if he lingered, she’d somehow convince him to stay. “See you on the other side.”

“Kendrick!” he heard her scream in the distance behind him, but he was already gone.

He charged headlong into the war he was summoned to fight. Death or greatness awaited him on the other side.

Perhaps both.

***

Beyond the outskirts where the Slayers of Adrogan tended to their fallen, the battle was utter chaos.

Armored orcs with swords forged of their own signature metal, orkanite, did battle with demons. Even their great physical strength unassisted by magic was no match for a demon, so there were at least two or three orcs fighting each one. Jinn buzzed over the pandemonium like vultures drawn to carrion—Kendrick swatted at them overhead with the Psysword like they were little more than flies, and they were slain just as easily. Imps, then, were harmless little gnats in comparison; he needed only to touch the bright-burning energy of his blade to their bodies and they disintegrated on contact with his aura.

He hacked and slashed a path through the dark minions to his ultimate target, the divine shadow crossing the Plains of Anurath in giant booming footfalls. He was close enough now that each step Urobius took was enough to shake the ground beneath Kendrick’s feet. The swordsman wondered more than once as he crossed the battlefield if he was making a foolish mistake by rushing in alone. Perhaps he was.

But with the vivid deaths of his friends repeating on a loop in his head, it was the only thing that could distract him sufficiently.

He was so distracted, in fact, and so disconnected from the gravity of the situation at hand, that he didn’t notice the archdemon lunging at him until it had its claw wrapped around his ankle. White-hot pain bit into his calf and he felt his own warm blood trickling out. The archdemon roared, a single note in the apocalyptic symphony around him, and it scratched him with its other claw across his chest. Tunic and flesh alike were torn, spilling more of his blood.

He had no time for a witty self-reflection or to tell himself a private, pacifying joke—the demon whirled around and threw him like a ragdoll across the battlefield.

The toss was backed by such power that Kendrick soared. The force of the throw was so sudden and jerking that his hip felt out of place and flashed a pain signal up through his spine and straight into his brain. The word dislocation flashed in his mind for a reason he didn’t yet understand. All he knew was that everything hurt.

Crash. Crunch. He hurtled through the canopies of several trees, getting scratches and pummeled by breaking branches along the way. That started to slow his momentum, after which he fell back down through some more distant treetops, trying in vain to right himself by grabbing a branch one-handed—it broke under his weight and he plummeted to the ground, landing directly on his affected hip.

For a few moments, the world around him seemed to go completely silent, drowned out by the vocal cord-rending scream of agony that came pouring out of him.

A short while later, a fraction of the pain graciously receded from him. His physical suffering was downgraded to the extent that he was able to think again—but still present enough that his first thoughts were full of expletives. Shit, that hurts. Fuck! That fucking hurts! Damn it all. Mother of... Through it all, he hadn’t let go of the Psysword. Just you and me now... friend.

He smiled at the blade. Maybe it was the eclipse, or maybe it was his own scattered brain jumbled by a lightning strike and a traumatic fall, or maybe he was finally going insane from his experiences in the Ecumene, but Kendrick could have sworn the Psysword looked different. It was so solid he couldn’t see a single thing through the aural light. Little white sparks danced on the razor-thin edges of the blade like oil sizzling on a griddle. The hum of the aura was loud enough to be heard even over the war raging around him. I can’t believe I used to hate you. I really did... Now it’s you and me at the end of the world, huh? Funny how things work out.

With great effort, bracing himself against a tree trunk, Kendrick stood up. The leg that may have been separated from his hip must have been cracked back into place by his fall—if, indeed, that was what happened to him. That leg felt weaker than the other one, and he walked with a slight limp, but he was still able to walk. He turned to face the general area of the battlefield where the archdemon had thrown him. “Is that all ya got?” Kendrick taunted, but then he held up his sword, scanning the darkness for encroaching enemies. Then, more quietly, he added, “That’s what I thought.”

Exiting the small copse of trees where he’d landed, Kendrick slashed his way through some easier enemies, cutting down imps and jinn with no problem, but taking care to fight demons one-on-one. He didn’t see any more of the taller, toothier-looking archdemons prowling the battlefield, but now he was on the lookout for them.

Surprised the eclipse is taking this long, thought Kendrick. It had been some time since he’d left the Slayers of Adrogan and gone ahead on his own, but the moon had only just begun to creep past the sun now, revealing a little sliver of scarlet light behind it. I wonder if Urobius or some minion has a spell going to prolong the eclipse. Is that a thing that can be done? He regretted telling Sahni and Bellara so confidently that the eclipse would be over soon.

Farther into the Plains of Anurath, there was a tall hill with stone stairs built into its side. Kendrick ascended these stairs with some difficulty, thinking it would get him a better angle to fight Urobius. The Dark Lord scooped up hunks of rock and hurled them across the Kanthian legions as makeshift fireballs. Every now and then, he also used his diabolical lightning attack to zap scores of Ecumenical forces at random. Luckily, Kendrick was just one of many—and his advance seemed to be going unnoticed for now.

At the top of the hill was an obelisk. It gave Kendrick pause at first—he hadn’t seen the tower in the distance and wondered why. Is this some kind of Underworld trick? He stepped forward and placed a hand on the monuments side—it was cool, smooth stone. There were designs etched into the side of the obelisk, something akin to hieroglyphics, a word he remembered from his old life, although he didn’t remember how or why. The symbols told some sort of story—some of them depicted orcs, he guessed, while others appeared to depict humans.

Craning his neck upward, he saw that the top of the obelisk, there was a stone balcony. Maybe I can use this to get a better vantage point of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Ugly, Kendrick thought. With the blindingly bright Psysword lighting his path, he entered the open doorway of the obelisk and found a spiral staircase made of stone inside. He started climbing, leading with his good leg.

There were more hieroglyphs scattered along the walls on the way up. It was hard enough climbing this many stairs when he was feeling healthy and well, let alone covered in archdemon wounds and exhausted from battle. Still, he pressed on. If I can get one good shot at that monster, this’ll all be worth it.

There were windows placed intermittently up and down the tower. Kendrick looked through them whenever he passed, glimpsing the battle raging outside, or the eclipse passing at a glacial pace, or the titan’s shadow stomping west across the Plains of Anurath. Urobius was closer than ever now. Not only did Kendrick have to grab a loose brick or put his weight forward every time the Dark Lord stepped, but now the obelisk itself was shaking from the vibrations, the bricks rattling softly like an old, dry skeleton disturbed after centuries.

“YOUR PETTY RESISTANCE... IS BUT HUBRIS...” Urobius bellowed. His godlike voice was just as deep and resonant as any of his footsteps or any other seismic activity, for that matter. The voice vibrated to the core of Kendrick’s bones. “SURRENDER... AND YOUR DEATH... WILL COME MUCH SOONER... OR... CONTINUE TO FIGHT... AND PROLONG YOUR OWN... SUFFERING...”

The dark cloud around Urobius began to dissipate in long trailing tendrils like fog. Is that all pure aura? Kendrick wondered incredulously. Then he flashed back to his lens and its final, laborious attempt to gauge the Dark Lord’s power. Oh, that’s right. It was in the 400 million range. Makes sense...

Thunder clapped and more lightning flashed outside. Kendrick flinched instinctively, but nothing struck the obelisk, and he was still safely inside its walls—although he would soon be unprotected at the summit. Then a new problem arose: with the pure black veil clearing from his target, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Dark Lord’s shield was back or if it was a one-time deal. Maybe he tried to hide himself while he recharged? Kind of hard to hide when you’re taller than any building in the world, though...

His question was answered a few levels of the obelisk later when he rounded one of the final curves in the spiral staircase. Looking out the window, he saw a thin ray of white light twinkling in the ecliptic night—another beam spell, but a relatively weak one. It was so slender compared to the lumbering giant that it lanced through the god’s arm like a pin. The contrast of white-on-black revealed that small drops of black blood and aura did, in fact, spill out of the site of the wound. If I can just get a close shot on the bastard, I can do some damage, too, Kendrick thought.

Finally, he ascended to the very peak of the obelisk. He stopped for a moment in the uppermost room before stepping onto the balcony. There was a much larger scene engraved in the stone wall here; some of it had been eroded away and softened with time, but it was still clear enough to read. It depicted crudely-etched images of a human reaching a hand out to an orc, with multiple smaller representatives of both species walking behind their leaders. The inscription—which Kendrick could miraculously read like all other writing in the Ecumene—read: ANURATH WHERE HUMAN AND ORC FIRST MET. He thought of the armored orcs fighting side-by-side with humans far below him. Elves fought hard as well, and fairies had done their part in the war effort ever since Kendrick had been part of it.

What he was about to do, he did for all of the Ecumene. The Ecumene is home to over a billion souls in all, Sahni had once explained. The Ecumene had cried out for help and he was their answer. I do this for all of you, he pledged silently. I won’t let your stories die here.

He stepped onto the balcony. First he tapped the stone floor with his boot hesitantly, and when he saw that it was sufficient to hold his weight with ease, he exited the obelisk and felt the morning-night air wash over him, tainted with the scents of smoke and blood.

The Dark Lord was now close enough to obscure much of Kendrick’s view of the battlefield behind him. He was advancing straight for the obelisk. In a moment of panic, Kendrick wondered if he would kick the tower over like a sandcastle, perhaps without even a second thought. Sandcastles. The beach. Driving my car. His mind flashed back momentarily to fragmented memories of his past life, memories of his universe—he banished them for the time being.

“Hey!” Kendrick screamed over the din of battle. “Hey you! Yeah, you! Right over he—”

BOOM! Another handful of lightning flashed across the warzone—a thin finger of it struck the obelisk and indirectly shocked Kendrick. It was still powerful enough to incapacitate the swordsman, to make him convulse and writhe on the balcony floor perilously close to the edge.

“W-w-w-wow-w, th-that s-s-s-serious-s-sly... h-hurt,” Kendrick chattered in shivering pain. This time, it was not possible for him to control the movements of his limbs perfectly—the blade of the Psysword sliced slightly into his left bicep, a shallow cut that nonetheless drew more blood. “S-son of a...” Standing was becoming more and more of a chore for him with the more injuries he collected. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord grabbed another chunk of the Ecumene to light on fire and hurl at the Ecumene’s caravan. “W-well? I’m s-still here! Why don’t you c-come a little closer, tough guy?!” If this doesn’t work... I hope they’re working on some spells down there as a backup. But I really hope this works. Otherwise—

A low rumble filled the air along with a faint whistle. The meteor was headed straight for Kendrick.

There was nowhere to dodge.

Nowhere to run.

No time.

Without thinking, he held the Psysword forward—pure instinct. There was a surge of life inside him and he heard a loud, rocky crash.

His aural blade split the meteor in half. What’s more, it somehow extended many grandstrides away from the obelisk itself—far enough that when the flaming rock was cut in two, the pieces fell to either side of the tower, falling to the unpopulated ground directly below.

But the sudden burst of aura was not without cost. As he panted with the adrenaline rush of what had just happened, he saw a worrying sign. White aura puffed out of his windpipe with each breath. The last time this happened was when Sahni and Bellara were training him to utilize his aura for the first time; he recalled this being a potentially fatal symptom.

Kendrick’s heart raced with equal parts exhilaration and terror at the thought of his own demise. “Well? I said I’m still here!”

“WHY? WHY... DO YOU PERSIST... LITTLE MITE? YOUR FIGHT IS OVER... REST NOW IN DEATH... THE ADVERSARY’S FINAL... CONSOLATION...” Urobius crouched down and reached out a menacing claw toward him.

“IT’S NOT OVER!” Kendrick screamed back. White aura poured from his mouth and nostrils, shooting out in every breath. The aurimeter showed you were down to your last aurum and still purging, you could have died! Sahni’s voice echoed again in his mind. He wondered if she was already in the presence of Aldiel. Perhaps we shall meet again tomorrow in the Overworld. There was Gydeon, too. Were they speaking to him from beyond? He did not know. “And even if this is my end... I’M TAKING YOU WITH ME!”

Kendrick took a running start and jumped off the balcony. He raised the Psysword high over his head, intending to plunge it straight through the hand of Urobius—the dark god simply leaned back and pulled his colossal hand away. Even with his size, he was impossibly fast. Kendrick was doomed. It looked as though his final sight in this life would be the sight of the Dark Lord’s colossal, hideous, hateful eyes.

White aura was shining out of Kendrick’s face now. Out of his mouth and nose, his ears, and even his eyes were glowing with the soul energy that coursed through all the Ecumene.

The heart of a warrior, the soul of a protector, and an untapped mind...

A limitless mind... one with boundless potential aura...

He felt the Psysword pulling the aura out of him, unraveling it like it was the thread that stitched him together. It felt like something integral was being spooled out of his body and he’d never survive it.

And in the next moment, he was at peace.

The Psysword’s blade suddenly tripled in length. Then quadrupled again. It was shooting out of the crystal in the orkanite hilt, launching straight ahead toward the Dark Lord himself.

Then something incredible happened. Even as Kendrick fell, the Psysword cut a shallow gash into Urobius. The blade’s edge sliced from the dark god’s chest all the way down his right leg. There was an Ecumene-shaking roar then, barely recognizable as any sort of vocalization. It was more like the entire Realm was rumbling with agony.

The Psysword shrank and shrank all the way down. Kendrick ran out of aura to utilize not far from the Dark Lord’s right hoof. He plummeted the remainder of the distance to the ground, his blade completely empty, his body completely empty. He felt his back break on the impact.

The Psysword hit the ground hard, bouncing off a rock—there was a tinny cracking sound—and the last thing Kendrick saw was Urobius staggering backward, hands clutching at immense rivers of black aura spilling out of his dark-divine body all over the Ecumene.

Kendrick knew this was the end.

But he was at peace.

I... I did it... Bell... Sahni... I never gave up...

I’ll miss you...

One last puff of aura escaped his mouth.

The light went out of his eyes.