A wall felt a sudden impact. Dust was pushed into the air, set adrift to eventually fall. Another impact to the wall shook a few of the ancient bricks from their place; they were to almost fall. A third impact tore down the wall; bricks and a body flung through onto the long-hidden chamber’s floor.

The body rolled, landing on its back before using its arms to propel itself back onto its feet with a somersault.

“Ange! Light me up!”

A scream for help that went unheard.

The pale young man who had just been punched through a wall, called to a far off ally that he couldn’t see. His hair black and spiked, pointed to the deadend behind him. His eyes, yellow and bright looked towards the hole ahead of him. He wore a black coat with a white shirt underneath, the coat reinforced with armor and magic to make falling through a wall the equivalent of slipping on some ice. His baggy trousers, the same, padded with metal at the joints to protect the knees and fastened with belts so as to keep loose material from snagging.

He stood ready, his knees slightly bent and his hands rolled into fists in front of him, separating him from whatever sent him through the wall. The gauntlets he wore, of strikingly different style to the rest of his attire, gave off a fading orange glow from a metal slot at the center of the back of the hand. The gauntlets stretched from fingertip to elbow, though one wouldn’t see them beneath his coat.

His breathing was ragged; it was a long day. But there was no time; there was no rest for the weary. The young man’s adversary walked through the hole, slightly ducking his head to let his tall stature into the revealed chamber.

This adversary, one eyed and green skinned with a single conical horn on the head, a type of cyclops, was proving to be troublesome. Standing at eight feet compared to the young man’s six and with arms bigger than the young man’s head, the scene looked akin to a badger staring down a lion.

All that said, the young man had not given up.

From his left hand, he flicked a pellet he had pulled from his coat’s pockets during the fall. The pellet flew and broke on the enemy’s chest, releasing a puff of smoke thick enough to serve as a smokescreen.

The young man flew forward, how fast he ran. His right leg left the ground, toes pointed directly at the adversary’s abdomen as it arc’d across the air. A bladed edge, a knife hidden in the well worn boots flashed moments before sinking into the adversary’s side with a smooth, slippery slink.

But the satisfying sound was but a tease. The young man’s foot shook; the blade could go no further, that was what the tremble and the sudden stop told the young man. He swung his foot forward with so much force so as to overcome the enemy’s defences and yet he could still see some of the blade outside the enemy’s body.

The cyclops noticed the rodent’s strike and clutched the lifted leg that dared fight back. Beneath its grip, cloth twisted, and the defensive magic worn like a suit of armor creaked. A few more moments and the magic would reach its limit.

The young man knew, and he acted. On one leg, he hopped, and with his left hand he pulled out a one foot metal rod that was strapped to his leg. He thrust his arm forward, that metal rod in hand, into the smoke cloud and towards the bright, bloodshot eye that was sure to be around it.

“I won’t miss!” he thought as the rod entered the cloud.

His arm shook, the reverberations being noted in his mind. The rod had met something, stopped for a jerk and then slid further in at the young man’s insistence. The grip on his leg loosened, but-

“RAAAAGH!”

It was the scream of the cyclops that truly said the rod had run deep. The grip on the leg tightened-the cyclops summoned a reserve of strength more impressive than its already formidable strength, and plucked out the little stinger.

With a swing of its arm, empowered by screams and pain, the young man was yanked through the air, towards more of the wall that had yet to come down.

Krrk-BMM!

His back greeted the wall first; he didn’t come to a polite stop.

The sound of brick hitting brick before crashing on the ground, and the distinct sizzle of fizzling magic filled the instance, only to be followed by a loud thud and a rolling body.

The young man, no worse for wear, shambled onto his knees, still seeing double from the sudden whiplash. Though the magic layer of protection he covered himself in, fortification magic, allowed him to stand to fight another day and avoid the consequences of a broken back, it did nothing for the sudden jerk-and-stop that caused his brain to crash into his skull.

“Ange!” he cried, “LIGHT ME UP!”

On all fours, shaking his head out of double vision, his call went out, echoing in the main chamber of the ruin. This time-

“Can’t!” a sweet voice, imperiled, responded.

That was all the young man needed, his head snapped fast in the direction of the voice’s source. He focused with all his might so that his eyes might settle.

A stone’s throw away, he saw his companion being swarmed by two enemies.

Clad in black, padded gear that covered neck, torso, and upper thigh, and further protected by battle-weathered metal greaves that protected her legs and equally as weathered bracers that covered her thin brown arms; a young woman, Ange, stood, magic rod and sword in hand. Her eyes flew around the room keeping track of the moving shadows that would strike her.

An enemy, a wolfman, would lunge with their claws aimed for the throat, only to meet a shortsword’s blade that would clang against its nails, and a swift kick in the stomach that would rebuke it.

Another wolfman that had received the same kick as his ally would receive a blast from the rod she held in her other hand; a ball of fire, the size of an adult human’s head to singe fur and sear the skin.

Ange’s battle was heating up; her eyes glowed intensely from the skull helmet that obscured everything above her lips and protected her head, as her brown hair flew through the air, guided by the dance she was creating with her movements.

The swishing of her feet moving and aligning to greet every enemy was striking and could not be ignored once noticed.

A swish to the left was followed by a sharp clang; a blade just met a wolf’s claw. A swish and the stomps of a hasty back-up, was followed by the sound of fire erupting and a pained howl.

A wolfman broke forward from behind his buddy’s body, the bright light of the wildfire spreading on the field that was his buddy’s chest giving him a momentary cover.

A moment of cover led to a delay in timing- the wolfman’s claw swung down. A last minute jerk backward, filled with heartbeat raising surprise, was rewarded with a scratch to the skull Ange wore and nothing else deeper.

Ange’s left foot slid forward, her left hand that gripped her sword took hold of the wolfman’s arm, the arm that had just finished its downward slash. Her right hand jabbed forward; its target? The wolfman’s mouth; a bad habit to be sure, letting your mouth hang open during a life and death battle.

Ange’s rod reached its goal, hitting the inside of the wolfman’s cheek as his eyes widened at the woman much more petite than him. He still hadn’t realized how close to death he was, but Ange knew, and she relished in the fact that one was going down, licking her lips.

In the next instance, mana, the fuel of magical phenomena, pulsed through her body. The rod’s tip glowed from within the wolf’s mouth. A burst of flames erupted from the mouth. And another. And another. The fourth, flames burst through the wolfman’s snout and out his nostrils, the sixth, flames burst from his eye sockets.

This wolfman, like his allies wore fortification magic, but that magic didn’t extend to the squishy insides of the user.

One down, one left. Ange took aim at the wolfman who was as unlucky as a dry field on a hot day. One more shot, and he would be a half-dead bonfire.

“Ange!” the young man screamed, “Watch out!”

The burst of fire erupted from her rod and hit the target engulfing him in flames.

Swssh.

The sound of a blade flying through the air came from right behind her, a few inches from the back of her head.

“GROOH!” a third wolfman screamed.

Ange turned on her heels to greet the wolfman that was caught by surprise by her ally’s sudden dagger. What would have been a painful sneak attack was thwarted by the young man that had stumbled back onto his knees and that felt he had to do something.

“Eat it!” Ange screamed, before unleashing a flurry of fire balls at the distracted wolfman.

The wolfman’s screams turned to painful howls as the fire took hold and spread across his body.

Ange turned, she knew the wolf wouldn’t stand again. “Thanks Fin-” she yelled, relieved, but that relief was short lived, “FIN! WATCH OUT!”

A thanks turned to a fearful plea.

A moment of concern turns into a moment of negligence. The cyclops, rod sticking out of the corner of its eye socket, stood behind Fin, its arm coming down on Fin like a deathly meteor.

The impact resounded, a cloud of dust erupted from the epicenter of the meteor-like swing’s impact on Fin. The ground creaked and stone bricks were flung into the air, the kinetic energy from the impact pushing them out so.

“FN!” Ange screamed from the other side of the dust cloud.

“Ange!” her friend called back, “LIGHT ME UP!”

Though she could not see him, she tossed her depleted rod to the side and pulled another one that was strapped to her side. She raised the rod to her face and seemed to make a silent prayer. The rod’s tip lit up, and only then did she swing it down in the direction where Fin once stood.

A trail of light flew out, disappearing into the dust cloud. In return a beacon of light shone within the cover.

“I’ve got your light, Ange.” A confirmation followed by a sudden eruption of magical energy, dispersed the dust that would obscure the sight.

There Fin stood, both arms raised above his head, crossed, holding the cyclops’ fist back. Both fists, in the center of the back of their hands, in the groove the gauntlet provided - in that groove they were adorned with a bright light. The cyclops, though it could have followed up with its other fist, was taken aback, shocked.

And it wasn’t because of the sudden interference of Ange’s magic. Fin’s arms, and only his arms, had turned dark blue, and grew three times in size. That moment of shock, would cost him dearly.

Fin broke the stand-still, raising his arms, pushing away the cyclops’ fist and causing it to stumble backward. Free to move, both fists fell to his hips, knuckles aimed at him. The balls of light erupted covering all of the gauntlet, and Fin flew forward, propelled by amazing leg strength.

BMMF-Crrk-zzl-CRACK!

A dry impact, the first fist sank into the cyclops’ body. The magic the cyclops wore over its daily wear was the first to surrender beneath the magically empowered fist, then came the cyclops’ bones. They cracked and broke behind the muscle that failed to protect them. The Cyclops should have flown away due to impact, but Fin-

“I got you this time.” Fin had taken hold, with his other hand, of one the cyclops’ ribs. Skin, bone, fat, muscle; all was in his grip, though he had to break a few bones to get such a death grip. But surely, the Cyclops had other things to worry about. Such as the fist to the chest that collapsed a lung, and the fist under the jaw that pulverized it into dust and almost unseated the skull from the spine.

The light in his gauntlet was fading, but Fin didn’t stop, the punches kept landing on this towering foe. Even when the cyclops’ body went limp beneath his grip, and the only thing keeping it standing was the grip itself, Fin continued until the light was extinguished.

“Is he down?”

Ange walked up to her friend, who was panting heavily, sitting atop the body of his enemy. His arms had returned to normal.

Fin looked up at the friendly voice, “Are you alright?” he asked between pants, his spiked hair falling forward to cover his face.

Ange opened her mouth to speak, but was stalled; the boy’s eyes weren’t shining as brightly as they did.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Does anything hurt?” she asked, reaching out towards her friend’s head but-

“I’m fine,”

Fin gently took hold of her before she could reach his head.

“Just a bit, hah…..hah, winded.” Between pants, he spoke and ended his words with a smile towards his long time friend. “Nevermind me. Is there anything in this chamber?”

Recalling why they were there, Ange left her hand in Fin’s, unknowingly wrapping her covered fingers around his thumb as she looked around the room lit by magic rune and torch. Aside from the bodies, there were eight pillars arranged in two sets of four that held the room up, and in the far corner of the room, furthest from the entrance the pair invaded from, a large chest.

“Yes, there’s something over there in the corner,” Ange said, directing Fin’s gaze.

“Sense anything weird from it?” Fin asked as he rose to his feet slowly, releasing Ange’s hand.

Ange’s eyes glowed beneath her skull helm, mana flowing through her system, “Nothing on the regular arrays,” she reported, her standing-a-head lower self looking up at him from the side. Her eyes trailed ahead once more, towards the chest. “I think the chest might be made of anti-sensory materials, it’s too inert for a chest in a ruin.”

“Anti-sensory- Then, that means there might be something worth obscuring on the inside right?” Fin and Ange walked towards the chest, discussing, while keeping an eye on their surroundings.

“Definitely. It’s likely there might be active magic within the chest as well.”

“Right,” Fin said, nodding, “Because someone might have the idea to boobytrap the interior.”

“They’ve done it before,” Ange said, recollecting a few unfortunate anecdotes.

Together the two stood in front of the chest that was as wide as Ange was tall and that reached to her hips.

“I hope this is one of the Seven Treasures,” Fin said as he began working on opening the chest.

“Looks like it has a lock on it… Huh?” No sooner did Ange make that observation, than did Fin crush the lock within his momentarily enlarged grip.

“Looks like they didn’t use elf or dwarf metal. Guess they thought the ruin was enough of a natural defence.”

“There aren’t many races with your race’s high-grade strength, they made a bet,” Ange said, leaning forward, with hands behind her back to take a better look at the crushed lock.

“And they lost that bet,” Fin chuckled out. “Hey”- Fin’s eyes darted to his right, -”Back up a bit.” Ange had inched her face close enough to Fin’s such that he could feel the tickle of her breath as it passed along his cheek.

“Oh!” Ange yelped, hastily pulling away, “Of course, just be careful.”

“It’ll probably just be an explosion. Or maybe poison darts.” Fin pulled off the destroyed lock and gripped the chest’s lid nonchalantly despite the speculated danger. “Make sure you patch me up if I get knocked out.” Fin looked away and flashed a smile at his friend, and got a strained smile back.

“But I’m not a healer…” Ange quietly whimpered, though Fin didn’t hear it. The creaking of the chest as it opened made sure of that.

Ange winced at the sight, forcing herself to keep her eyes open. Fin didn’t move, remaining stoic.

“Hey. What is this? Is this a joke?”

“Huh?” Ange opened her eyes once more. Her friend’s voice called out to her. There was a different surprise that was filling her awareness; her friend was irritated. She walked back over to the chest to see what was uncovered.

“W-Whoa. I- I didn’t think this would be something I’d ever find,” Ange was wide-eyed as she stared at the box’s contents.

“Who does this?” Fin said, disgust dripping in his voice, “Damned dogs,” he cursed, “Who locks a person up in a treasure chest?!”

Upon opening the chest, what Fin and Ange found, was a woman, stripped naked, curled up in fetal position. Her hair was a black tangled mess and her skin was like porcelain despite being a cool grey. And of course, she was alive, breathing and sleeping.