“Elves! Elves have dared to rob our sanctuary! Find them destroy them!”

“Boss, it’s too hot!”

“No excuses! Find them and bring me their heads!”

The booming voice of the shaman washed over Eric as he made full use of his Strength, snatching up Drake and racing back down the stairs with his friend in a fireman's carry, sprinting back the way they had come for all he was worth.

“Eric, over here!”

Eric stumbled to a stop, turning to gaze at Morlekai and Louie, holding Alice so tenderly as she gave a piteous cry. Louie turned to Morlekai, a desperate look in his eyes when he saw Eric. "I think it's time, my man, don't you?"

Morlekai furrowed his brow before jerking a quick nod.

“Eric. Pry off Drake’s helmet.”

Eric did so, his guts churning at the sight of the awful third and fourth-degree burns his friend had suffered, thinking it a miracle he was even alive, though his wheezing breath twisted Eric's gut with worry. "Shit, Morlekai. That sounds bad."

Morlekai gave an angry shake of his head. “I knew we should have all shot our Vitality up to twenty plus, regardless of anything else. As it stands...”

“Don’t say it!” Eric snapped, terrified at the thought of losing his big goofy jock of a friend. Part thug, part goofball, part kid trapped in a man’s body. The thought of him dying to something as horrid as drowning in his own fluid was too much to bear.

He clenched his jaw. “Okay, it is what it is. We’ll get back to base, and we’ll be his fucking ventilator machine until his body resets. Please tell me his Vitality is at least close to twenty?”

Eric hissed and glared back in the direction of the roaring shaman, sensing that company would be joining them very shortly. “Goddamned bastards!”

“Got that right,” Louie glared. “And now we’re holding nothing back.” He turned to Morlekai. “It’s time.”

Morlekai nodded, and Eric’s eyes widened to see his friend pull out a vial of liquid swirling with sapphire blues and ruby reds.

He couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight. “Wait, is that really like a...”

“Healing potion?” Morlekai forced a tight smile. “One of the precious few I have. A parting gift from a girl I’ll never see again.”

Eric winced. “Sorry about that, Morlekai.”

He solemnly took the potion his friend handed him, gently putting it to a groaning Drake’s lips, the man whimpering with pain, and Eric didn’t blame him. Poor Drake wasn’t just wheezing for breath, his eyes were poached like eggs. For the moment, he was blind to the world. “Open wide, buddy. It’s healing potion time! Just like in the RPG of your choice.”

Eric braced himself in case the powerfully built man thrashed, but remarkably, he didn’t. Nor did he heal instantly. Rather he fell into a deep, comatose sleep. Eric smirked. “Let me guess. I get to carry him back?”

Louie grinned, feeding his whimpering girl a similar potion. “Damn right you do. And thank god Alice wasn’t hit nearly as bad.”

Eric smirked. “Probably because I was shielding her.”

Louie and a fully reformed Morlekai began staring at him a bit too intently, as far as he was concerned.

“Eric?”

“Yes, Morlekai?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask. As grateful as I am that you were able to protect Alice, and run back for the idiot, how the hell is it you’re up on your feet with only your cheeks looking well-done?”

“Not even that, boss. The boy’s regen is kicking in already.”

Eric blinked, gazing at them both for long moments, feeling his cheeks blaze with something beyond third-degree burns. "Because I'm an idiot," he finally said.

Louie frowned. “Come again?”

But before Eric could say anything more, the corridor rang with the sound of fresh voices.

Eric glared back the way the came. “New plan. You two bring the others back. I think it’s time I prepared a little present for our friends.”

Morlekai frowned. “Eric, now’s hardly the time...”

But Eric was no longer really paying attention. Instead he was manifesting multiple barrels from storage and placing three of them down to block the hallway. He glared at the space behind them for several long seconds until a sturdy backstop of hide, meat, and bone formed, then summoned forth the chain mail covered orcs he had killed, putting them in front of the gunpowder barrels before pounding in all three of the tops and linking them all with streams of gunpowder, finishing up with a pile on the lip of the backstop, just in time to see the first of the orcs howl and gesticulate as they spotted the bodies in the dim flickering light the shaman had bouncing over his head.

“I killed your buddies, and you all are next, assholes!” Eric screamed in orcish. “The Sylvan Alliance will crush you before the week is out, fools!”

He then ran away with a mad cackle before dropping to the floor as multiple javelins were tossed over the propped bodies.

Fortunately, not a one hit him after he ducked out of their line of sight, though he could still feel the terrible piercing magics streaking through the air with their passage.

“Get the fuck back to base!” Eric hissed, as he saw his friends hesitating, still some distance off.

Before making a second bulwark, this one a thick, massive affair that he hoped would protect him from the stupidity to come, as nearly a dozen orcs prepared to leap the bulwark.

“Kill the elves at all costs!” Roared the shaman.

“But boss, look, behind the bodies!”

Eric savored their looks of shocked disbelief as the shaman glared at what his lackey was showing him, before his eyes widened with what seemed slow motion surprise as time seemed to stretch for endless moments while Eric lined up his shot. "No, get back!" The shaman roared as he frantically began gesturing with his ferret-headed staff of bone.

But it was already too late.

Too late as a 4000

-degree arrowhead flew from Eric's bow with a sudden crack of sound and fury as he then dove behind his emergency bulwark, his bow instantly vanishing from his hands as he crouched down and covered his ears.

For a single split second, he wondered if he had missed, despite True Strike having made what would normally be a difficult shot feel so right...bracing himself for a mad struggle just to survive if nothing happened, wondering if he'd be forced to trade crossbow bolts with fireballs and javelins and fearing he’d get the worst of it by far, when suddenly he was spun end over end as a roar that shook his very bones washed over and through him.

His world flipped around endlessly before he came to a jarring stop with a groan he couldn't hear, ears ringing with the endless roar that had rocked the passageway. For long moments, all he could do was struggle to breathe, lungs wheezing for air that just wouldn’t come… until suddenly it did.

Congratulations! You have discovered basic explosive applications!

You have learned Demolitions at Rank 1!

Warning! Potency gains for any explosives used (or any other method where opponents are indirectly slain using energy or forces you yourself are not directly responsible for generating) will be only a fraction of what they might otherwise be!

You have suffered 2 Serious Wounds from Concussive Blast.

You have saved versus Cardiac Arrest! - You are currently regenerating 7.5 HP per minute.

Eric groaned, for the moment unable even to get to his feet, feeling dizzy and shaken and absolutely hating the monsters that had almost taken the lives of two of his friends, now eager to kill his entire crew, if they could get away with it.

He flashed a fierce smile after giving himself a full minute to recover, sensing a few crucial cracked bones fusing back together. His foes had been eager to blast Eric and his friends to hot smouldering corpses? Then he was more than eager to return the favor as he prepared himself to

dare the flames once more, grateful as all hell that his essence infused armor had protected him from the heat as well as it had. And with a little bit of blood infused with the

Essence of Flame now covering every bit of skin not covered by his open-faced helm, he was ready to give as good as his friends had gotten.

Two minutes spent recouping and covering his bare skin as the roaring fire raged on, and worth every second invested, he thought, before glaring at the body-strewn hallway, girding himself for any shaman desperately clinging to life… but all he saw were raw chunks of meat and ruptured chain mail shirts and a single intact head, still wearing its helmet, gazing at the world with confused, sightless eyes.

He knew what he was about to do was borderline madness, especially as he was still a bit dizzy and shaken with half the city no doubt alerted by the explosion. But as far as he was concerned, he had no choice but to seize the initiative right this moment, no matter how perilous or foolish, or lose the one chance they had to take out those cannons before the entire tribe was alerted, and countless elvish and human lives were lost as a result.

So he flashed a fierce smile at his own madness, weapon once more in hand, and finished racing up the stairs.

“Elf!”

“No, fool, it’s a human! It dares to—“

You have cricitally struck Orc Javelineer! Esophagus pierced!

You have critically struck Orc Javelineer in the chest. Flame bolt used! Your targets screams have distracted surviving orcs!

And an eyeblink later, Eric had darted back down the stairwell after two quick shots, chilled by just how fast the surviving javelineer's weapon had struck the far wall, piercing the faux marble-covered concrete with enough force to send splinters and dust showering onto Eric’s armor, but doing no real damage.

Refusing to waste even a second in horrified dismay, Eric had darted up from his crouch just long enough to snap two more bolts at the surviving javelineer, one lodging into the snarling giant's shield, earning a furious roar before the creature's eyes widened with horrific pain as his knee was struck with the second bolt, Eric actually seeing the flesh glow from within as the lodged bolt instantly boiled the fluids out of the joint and the surrounding tissues before bursting into white-hot flame, 4000-degree heat spelling the orc's doom as he screamed and crashed to the ground, writhing desperately, yet unable to pull the bolt out without tearing off the lower half of his now utterly destroyed leg.

Even as the three surviving shield orcs guarding the cannon looked on in horror, two more Javelineers were sent crashing down into death, incendiary bolts ripping effortlessly through necks, puncturing skulls, and incinerating brains, both of them dropping javelins to clatter upon the flagstones.

Eric's heart was pounding with terror and exhilaration, knowing damn well that had he fired just a heartbeat later, or missed his shot, he would probably be joining them in death.

As it stood, his features were marred only be a fierce rictus of a grin by the time the remaining orcs got their heads in the game, one roaring for help as they all raised their shields and charged as one.

Eric’s breath hitched in his throat, knowing that if he dared aim even his super-hot bodkins at shields and helmets reinforced by a highly-trained Classers’ node abilities, he had wasted the shot, and was as good as dead.

But nothing said he couldn’t aim for their feet.

Feet which might effortlessly shrug off one of the earlier bolts Eric had used, when he was concerned about stealth above all else. But with his favorite bolts back in play, their feet began to boil, burst, and fry just as readily as the Javelineer's knee had.

Agony so great that Eric sensed carefuly focused class wards give way to roars and screams of agony. And even the one orc that only fumbled, losing hardly a toe, still collapsed in death when Eric's bone bow released shot after shot, now able to strike toppled-over orcs at his leisure, happily spending the handful of seconds to infuse his bow with the Essence of Wrath and himself as well.

Wrath that was actually powerful enough to pierce even an obvious Tank Classer's wards. Especially if those wards were muted by the searing hot agony of a white-hot quarrel turning their feet to hunks of charred ash.

Even so, he was prudent enough not to strike the shields. Not when the helmet-covered heads of the fallen trio presented such tempting targets, especially in their now greatly weakened state. And not even the thickest of the three steel helms proved any impediment for triple-weighted bone arrows with superheated bodkin heads fired at mach 1.5, each and every one exploding right through his target's skulls before tunneling deep into their bodies.

Bodies which instantly began to bloat with furious heat before the torsos ruptured, sending flash-fried organs and boiling liquids sizzling and splattering against the station tiles.

Eric wasted no time admiring his gruesome handiwork, immediately zig-zagging as fast as he could for a prize he suddenly wanted above all others.

Eyes raptly fixated upon a dozen well-polished bronze cannons, glittering so prettily in the torchlight.

In an eyeblink, he traded his bow for bardiche to meet the roaring charge of the one surviving orc, almost surprised by how effortless it was to weave and dodge right past the whistling axe head, earning a wide-eyed look of disbelief that soon became one of utter confusion as Eric whipped his own war blade around, generating so much power with his cleaving strike that chain links burst and rawhide gorget shredded like rice paper under the sheering force of a blow that sent his foe’s head spinning end over end in a shower of blood.

And before the body had even dropped, Eric was slapping his blood-covered palm against one cannon after another, too pressed for time even to be amazed when a full dozen weapons of war, each easily weighing at least half a ton, went effortlessly into his storage space.

You have successfully cleared the field of all guardians!

Hunter’s Primacy is now in effect!

You may claim your kills and all prizes of war, regardless of size or weight!

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of 10 High Quality, 1 Average Quality, and 1 Fatally Flawed Bronze Cannon!

Eric wasted no time, letting the messages wash over him as he spied his final target, the women's bathroom holding what Eric suspected was the final key element of the orc's arsenal.

But by this time, all three surviving orcs were braced for his assault, shields and spears held at the ready, all three of them roaring challenges for Eric to face them.

A challenge he was more than willing to accept.

It was nothing to read the shifts in stance, the snarl of commitment as the closest orc thrust out with his spear held in one hand, shield guarding face and torso with the other.

The orc grunted in surprise when Eric’s twist and wrench sent the giant beast's weapon flying free. But before he could follow up with a cleaving slash to his startled foe's throat, the remaining pair of orcs strove desperately to take Eric down with a combined slash and thrust, flashing toothy grins when Eric didn’t even try to flee.

Not when he could duck under the axe-man's too slow weapon while smashing aside the furiously thrusting spear of the final orc before spinning his warblade around for a cleaving slash that left one orc wheezing with surprise when Eric’s cleaving polearm burst links and drew blood.

A look that became a final gasp of horror when Eric flipped his weapon around in a reverse grip, the wicked curving edge so good for slashes now wielded like a warhammer, the halfmoon tip streaking through the air to slam into the axe-wielder's head with a crack, rupturing steel helm and skull in unison.

The spearman roared and lunged with his spear as the disarmed orc desperately scrabbled for his own.

And a coldly smiling Eric wasted no time trying to lever his weapon free of the fallen orc spasming away his last moments as the beast cranially hemmorhaged its life away.

Not when Eric could summon his own bronze spear in the blink of an eye, meeting a surprised orc spear for spear, taking advantage of the beast's momentary confusion to force his foe's weapon wide before plunging through the creature's massive armored chest, ripping through the orc's lungs in a shower of blood.

Piercing Strike has critically hit your target!

“No! You killed so many. You monster!” howled the final orc, gazing at Eric with something akin to horror.

But Eric was too lost in battlefrenzy to acknowledge the oddly human emotions, or care.

Instead, he drew his sheathed saber in the blink of an eye, whipping his blade around in a deadly series of cross-cuts that left the squealing orc with two savaged stumps for arms, trying desperately to stem the gushing tide of blood spurting from its throat as it crashed to the ground on crippled legs, every part of its body not covered in steel mail now slick with blood.

“Why?” It wheezed. And Eric couldn’t help but frown at the dying creature, before deigning to answer.

“This is war. You assholes started it, I’m going to end it.”

Its desperate eyes widened. "Quarter. Quarter!"

“BURN IN HELL!” Eric roared, lashing out with all his hate, rupturing his foe’s armored skull in an explosion of bone, blood, and gore.

Eric spent long moments panting over his foe’s crumpled form, wild eyes scanning the entire train station for any trace of orcs coming his way… seeing absolutely nothing. Sensing absolutely nothing. No flares of heat in the darkness.

And as the mad surge of battle-frenzy cooled, he knew there was no way in hell that the sounds of battle, the explosions in the tunnel, and at least one orc who must have fled wouldn’t result hundreds of battle-trained orcs flooding into the station in very short order.

His heart was now hammering with something besides battle-frenzy.

He knew he was running out of time.

Yet he wasn't so foolish that he didn't take a moment to use Alice's hand mirror to look around the bathroom corner for ambushers…

And found nothing.

Nothing but a massive restroom with stalls torn out, now absolutely filled with barrels.

Some contained black powder

, many others filled with contents that brought home to Eric once more just how perilous a game he was playing. There were no balls of iron or stone being stored here, ideal for taking down fortifications and hard targets. What there was instead was tons upon tons of marble-sized grapeshot, a mixture of both cast iron balls and lead, designed with one thing in mind.

Tearing through masses of enemy infantry and cavalry, and causing as much devastation, mayhem, and death as possible.

Eric wasted no time cursing his foes, however. Not when he could make out the sound of breaking glass and the roar of what sounded like dozens of orcs, now headed his way.

Eric’s hands frantically pressed against and claimed dozens upon dozens of barrels in less than twenty seconds before he prepared himself for a mad charge into the central station proper.

A move that might, or might not, get him killed.

Then anxious eyes gazed up at an incredibly welcome sight.

The bathroom windows might have been cracked and dirty and covered with grime, but with a few effortless swings of his armored fist, he had a hole to freedom and a way out. Even if it did lead into a dirty, trash-strewn alley miraculously free of hostiles, and he quickly made his exit. But not before struck by a certain degree of bitter inspiration and a slash to his cheek.

Then minus the cost of some soul-bound pieces of a torn shirt and a small burst of experience and supplies later, he was racing down the alley, desperate to get clear, lest his plan backfire rather spectacularly.

But there was nothing. At least not for long minutes as desperate eyes searched for a safe way out of the alley entirely too close to the train station, spying a fire escape exit and a few swings of a bone and leather grappling hook. Hasting no time, he was climbing up as fast as he could and rapidly making his way to the rooftop.

But not without a quick look for any Javelineers or anyone else on the rooftop, grateful to see no signs of anyone as he sprinted across one wide roof before leaping like spidey across one narrow alleyway and another, before dashing to a stop and turning around with a cold smile on his face.

Almost certain that if his enemies were going to inspect the pair of bathrooms, it would be right about...now.

And with a single act of will, he waited for long, tense seconds.

Before his lips curled with fierce satisfaction as the sound of a massive explosion rumbled through the city. An explosion comprised of a barrel of gunpowder surrounded by a hundred pounds worth of grapeshot, all of it covered by a very thin skin of zombified lizard meat so as not to give the entire game away, before violently erupting.

Just a second after Eric summoned his now blood-bound strip of a once finely tailored suit back into storage.

A strip of cloth that had been treated with multiple layers of essence infused blood, assuring a nice, stable 77 degrees. Cloth that had vanished just seconds ago, leaving behind the prize he had so carefully wrapped up. An essence-infused arrowhead blazing eternally at 4000 degrees.

An arrowhead that had instantly ignited the wooden cask he had rested it on, setting off a hundred pounds of gunpowder, just moments later.

And if the fresh flood of notifications now hitting his interface was any indication, he had definitely made an impression on his enemies, finally acknowledging all the potency he had gained that wonderful, perilous day.

Congratulations! You have successfully shredded an additional 23 orcs eager for your blood, and mortally injured 37 others! Experience earned!

You are making use of potential energy you had no part in storing!

Essence infused trigger noted.

You have earned 5% of base experience for all kills made with the Demolitions skill!

You have earned 100% of base experience for all kills made with all Soul Bound melee & ranged weapons!

Maximum Potency to skill rank conversion in effect.

Blood Mastery is now Rank 18!

Flesh Sculptor is now Rank 17!

Demolitions is now Rank 2!

Demolitions is now Rank 3!

Stealth has been further saturated!

Bardiche (Glaive & War Blade) is now Rank 16!

You have achieved Rank 14 in Spear!

Saber is now Rank 14!

Iado (Fast-Draw) is now Rank 8!

Crossbow is now Rank 16!

You have achieved Rank 16 with all bows!

Eric took a deep, shuddering breath, only now appreciating the sheer madness of his actions. What if it hadn’t worked? He had effectively put a super hot tinder on top of a hundred pounds of explosive death, complete with ball-bearing style shrapnel packed all around it that could have instantly obliterated him.

If he hadn’t soaked that cloth in enough blood, if things hadn’t worked out exactly as planned…

But they had.

What matters was that they had.

And as much as he hated the massive reduction in experience points explosives earned him, compared to kills he made with melee weapons or blood-bound bows, what mattered right now was throwing his enemies off balance, and removing the king from the board.

Eric’s mind raced with all the exciting and deadly possibilities that his fierce desire to leave a final present behind for his enemies had just opened up for him.

His only goal now was to find a safe place to hole up and wait for nightfall, and maybe make a few extra surprises in the meantime, now that he knew how. Especially if, with the help of several tons of undead lizard meat in storage, he could make so many components in his extra storage space, preparing them with just a thought.

He couldn’t help but rub his hands together with glee, cackling like a madman as he darted for the rooftop stairwell, eager to get out of sight, and get to work.