Goro supported me as I limped, and when limping wasn't enough he carried me like a princess. We wandered aimlessly, trying to find shelter or…something, always going in the direction of the closest scream.

We found nothing but corpses.

With every fresh body, Goro exacted swift revenge. He would leave me propped against a wall, and go slaughter the offending creature with the axe the very first orc had left behind. We were exactly 23 monsters into our killing spree, and nothing much has changed.

I feel like I should have gone into shock already, as I'm deathly pale and my heart rate has dropped to dangerous levels. And yet, I'm still as lucid and healthy* as ever. Enough to give friendly feedback to my dear pupil as he slaughtered at a somewhat worrying pace. It was as if he was born for it, or perhaps he had a lot of practice.

“Do you not think you might be able to reach survivors a little quicker if you stopped towing a cripple around?” I asked out of the blue. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked, in case that made him decide to just drop me on the sidewalk. I surprised myself with how much I’d rather he didn’t.

Goro was silent for a moment before he responded with his trademark quietness. “Maybe.”

How enlightening. “Either way, we can't continue like this,” I said, stating the obvious. “We need a destination or a goal.”

Goro looked around, as if just now deciding to get his bearings. We had just turned a corner when he came to a stop. “Hey…do you recognize this city?”

“No,” I said. “I just presumed I got teleported or something equally fantastical.”

He hummed quietly. “I recognize that building,” he said, pointing towards a rather massive tower with several chunks missing and what seemed to be claw marks down the side. “It's Roppongi Hills.”

I looked around. ”Oh. I’m beginning to see the problem.” The architecture was…mismatched, as if the city planning went to a drunk squirrel. What seemed to be a ruined Mexican restaurant was literally wall to wall with a warehouse straight from a factory, both overlapping the sidewalk of the main road.

”I don’t understand,” he murmured.

I shrugged as best I could from within his arms. “Shit's been fucked for a while, kiddo. What’s a scrambled city or two at this point?”

”Yeah...” he said, nodding slowly. “No point in trying to understand. Not enough info.”

”Exactly. Let’s just roll with the punches and hope we survive long enough to get some answers. Now, let’s head to-”

I was rudely interrupted. Both of our heads snapped towards the same direction, as we felt something. Like a wave of energy, or a whisper on the wind. Like knowing where someone is standing just from the displacement of the air.

It was a beacon.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, despite the fact that we both clearly reacted to it.

“I do believe we have a destination,” I said. “Shall we see what mystical bullshit awaits us?"

Goro just nodded.

It wasn't a long walk. The ‘Beacon’ led us to the plaza in front of the tower that Goro mentioned, and it was currently under siege.

The soundscape was...odd. We could hear the orcs making orc noises, squeals and roars overlapping each other, but nothing else, despite the fact that we could clearly see the combatants.

Dozens of people were dug in, using dumpsters, cars, and whatever else they could to form barricades to block the advance of the creatures. The orcs came in small waves, forced to navigate around smoking wreckages and collapsed buildings in order to reach the survivors, conveniently funneling them directly into the kill zones.

Ah! That was the odd part. The survivors were largely armed and shooting, but we couldn’t hear the gunshots. The orcs were trying to break through, but they were stopped by a barrier of sorts. It was almost invisible, but if I looked closely I could see a shimmer in the air. It was spherical, and covered the entire plaza that the survivors resided in.

”They’re still alive,” observed Goro.

Yeah, no shit. But for how long? I have a sneaking suspicion that they have more orcs to shoot than bullets to shoot them with. This wasn't an army, as most of the guns were semi-automatics and shotguns. A lucky collection of enthusiastic gun owners, then? But how did they get the ammo? Did they have the guns on them when they were…

Questions for later. ”Any sound strategies?” I asked.

He looked down at his axe. “I don’t think I can do much here without getting caught in the crossfire.”

We watched in contemplative silence as the shield fluctuated for a moment, and a shadow rose from beneath the barricade, grabbing an old man’s shotgun with its maw, and ripping him off the wall. The massive wolf-like creature was already ripping his throat out before he hit the ground.

Another threat to contend with. Probably trained pets belonging to our dear orcs. Hope they didn’t have too many.

Goro shuffled in place like an impatient child. “I want to fight.”

“Whoa there, hold on a minute,” I said, “Think for a moment.”

”Hmm?”

“Can you still feel the ‘Beacon?’”

He stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, struggling to sense what came so easily to me. “It's…right in front of us."

I nodded. “That's right. It's not coming from that group, nor the tower. What does that tell you?”

“I'm not sure…”

“There's nothing here, which would imply that what we are sensing hasn't happened yet. Now, with the way this day has been going, what do you think a mysterious mystical beacon calling out to our magical new senses might mean?"

He thought about that for only a second. “…More monsters?”

I nodded, and resisted the urge to pat the technically grown man on his head. “This is all conjecture but… I'd put money on it. A lot of money.”

We stood there for a moment, taking in the scene. Well, Goro stood there while I relaxed in his arms, but I digress. The battle was at a stalemate, and was ready to tip in either direction. It would seem they haven't noticed us, as the narrow street we stood in was coated in crimson shadow. We could still run, but we didn’t, though for two different reasons.

Goro just wanted to fight, for it was all he knew. I don’t know what kind of life he has lived, but it sure seemed to be his first and final response to just about anything.

But I could see something a little deeper than that, and that's why I was still so invested. I've barely even looked at the kid himself, as I've been too busy studying what I hereby dub his ‘Core’. It fluxes and pulls with every exertion. It sizzles and burns with every burst of passion, and fades and flickers with hesitation and uncertainty.

This was interesting. But it wasn't what enthralled me.

Every time that boy killed, it seemed to grow stronger. Just a little, but it was there. He was stronger than he was an hour ago, and his core reflected the change, ruby flames catching alight with every bit of fuel in the form of murder.

That was beautiful to me. Potential being realized before my very eyes. The very opposite of my stagnant life, this was progress, power, fulfillment - visible to the naked eye. How much further could he go?

I wanted to find out. Was this an illusion? Or was this the answer I've been looking for?

“…What do you think we should do?” he asked.

It was good, then, that he was deferring to me. It was time to put my theory to the test.

I pointed towards a nearby fire escape. “Let's climb to the top and head towards the edge. If I'm right, that will be the place to be.”

“To do what?”

I smiled, though some might call it a scowl. To see what you're made of. To see if it’s worth living through the end of the world. To see if it's okay to hope.

“To win.”

My… judgment was based on logic I did not understand. Senses that didn't quite make sense. If I survived this, I would take the time to study the new me, and the new world.

But for now, it was long-shot plans and vague notions. Goro carried me up the stairs, and there we waited, at the very edge of the roof. My leg had gone necrotic, but it was a lost cause anyway. I should have passed out long ago, but here I was.

It wasn't as if it didn't hurt, but I just didn't care. Nobody can be apathetic enough to not care about pain, as that is not how the human body actually functions, but it seems that's exactly how it works for me.

“Can you feel it?” I asked.

Slowly, Goro nodded. “Yes. Something is coming. I can see the space…distorting below us."

He was right. Something was coming. And I knew it would be here in exactly 32 seconds. The air crackled and twisted on the ruined street below us, and even the orcs had slowed their onslaught. Instead, they were hooting and squealing, hiding out of sight of the guns. Waiting for something.

It was hard to tell from this distance, but I think some of the survivors had noticed the distortion. I could see pointing and shouting, but there was a lot of that anyway. I look forward to seeing if that little group had any gifted individuals such as my dear Goro, but that thought could wait until I found the answer.

“How do you feel about jumping from the roof?” I asked.

I expected hesitation, considering it was six stories, but he gave none. “I can make it.”

Good. Another question. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

And that was all we needed. I think. I could feel it growing closer.

It was big.

“15 seconds," I said. "I need you to ready your axe, and stand by the edge.”

Goro took a calming, slow breath, then stood to his feet, retrieving his bloodied axe from the makeshift sling on his back. He looked over the edge, staring at the increasingly visible distortion, tightening his grip on his weapon.

I feel the adrenaline. Anticipation. Haven't felt either in a while. “Go on my mark, and not a moment sooner.”

Goro didn't even nod, but I know he heard me.

10 seconds. The distortion was audible now, crackling like firewood.

7 seconds. The orcs were dead silent, all waiting almost patiently.

5 seconds. The air split, revealing the deep crimson from whence the monsters came.

And then, it was here. First came an arm, reaching out and grasping the edge of the distortion. Green skin flexed and muscles tightened as it pulled itself out. Its head was next, a rather familiar piggish face distorted by piercings and scars.

Then the rest of the body emerged, and it stood to full height. All 12 feet of it. It wore an outfit made of some kind of hide, straps and studs covering far more skin than the rest of the orcs. Its belt clattered as it moved, as it was adorned with dozens of weapons. Swords, spears, and plenty I couldn't even name. Some were rusted and sized for an orc. Others were fresh, stained red, and not so orc-sized.

“I think that's the boss,” Goro observed.

I didn't bother justifying that with a response.

First came a singular squeal. Then another. Two more. A whole crowd.

And then they all squealed. Every orc in the plaza, with some voices echoing from even further beyond. Wolves howled as well, joining in on what was the second-worst opera I've ever attended. Orcs started slamming their shafts into the ground rhythmically, making the ear-splitting noise even worse.

We were almost directly above the chief, as it began its walk through the tight alleyway, arms banging against the wall, weapons scraping against the floor. It ripped the fire escape we used off of its hinges just by brushing its shoulder against it. The ‘chanting’ got louder as it approached the plaza.

I could see some of the faces of the people defending the plaza from here. Young men, old women, and everything in between. They wore fear, confusion, revulsion, exhaustion, and terror. But when the chieftain emerged into the light, unfolding itself from the alley, all of their expressions changed at the same moment, to one singular emotion.

Hopelessness.

The creature retrieved an ax not unlike Goro's from his back - though much bigger - and raised it high. It's cruel eyes looked upon the plaza, and its twisted lips smiled. It stomped its feet, cracking the concrete, and opened its mouth to roar.

“Now,” I said, and Goro leaped without hesitation.

The timing was perfect, as it was too busy focusing on being intimidating to protect itself, holding its dramatic pose for a moment. The execution was immaculate, as Goro swung with all the strength his core could give him in mid-air.

In the two seconds it took to make contact, the people defending the plaza finally caught sight of Goro. It was a sight to see, a young man holding an axe as big as he was, expression pensive as he leaped towards unknowable danger upon the word of a stranger. It was insane, suicidal.

Or so they thought.

Well, actually, they were right, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work.

The axe was aimed at the top of its head. It landed, but didn't split it in two as I had hoped. Instead, it cracked against the skull, and deflected off the side, scalping half of the creature's head by shaving off a solid half-foot of meat. Goro's momentum carried him downwards, and he angled the blade as it rode down its neck like scissors through paper, eviscerating the jugular and spewing an unholy amount of blood for dozens of feet.

The roar turned into a cry of pain as the axe lodged blade-first into its neck, arresting Goro's descent as he slammed into its back.. The creature stumbled, eyes fogging over from the concussion and pain. It dropped its weapon, and reached for its neck on reflex, to stanch the blood or even just to feel what exactly was causing the agony.

But Goro didn't give it the chance. He propped his legs against its back and wrenched the axe as hard as he could. The creature followed the pain, falling right back into the alleyway. The shaft of Goro's axe splintered under the force, and he let go, leaping aside as to not get crushed under the monster.

It landed in an awkward pose, as it squealed and seized, fighting through rapid blood loss and a severe concussion as it tried to save itself, but it couldn't even reach its neck due to the tight alleyway. Its shoulders were stuck against the walls, and the sleek, blood-covered ground provided poor traction for it to stand back up again.

It was delightful to watch. Its blacked core was fading away rapidly, as it twisted and squirmed along with its owner. But where did all the energy go? That was what I wanted to know so badly, and I hope I was about to find out.

Goro casually climbed the intact side of its head and walked along its face and body, reaching for its belt. Some of the weapons had fallen off, others still had stuck to its legs and hind from the crash. But one, in particular, was still there. It was a longsword, bigger than I suspect a normal sword should be, but otherwise normal. It was in good condition, even shiny.

He ripped it from the belt, tearing the cloth that kept it there, and climbed onto the chieftain's torso. The thrashing was beginning to slow, and the concussion seemed to be wearing off already.

But it was too late. As its eyes focused, all it saw was the point of a blade and a blood-soaked human, holding it downwards in both hands.

I wondered what Goro thought about, through this whole process. It takes a special kind of person to do what he did. Maybe it was determination, righteousness, fear...

But if you ask me… I think it was a whole lot of nothing.

The blade came down, piercing through the pupil so deep that the crossguard squished against the punctured eye. The sharpened metal went into the brain, killing it instantly.

And then, in that beautiful moment, I got my answer.

For the first time in a long time, I felt joy.