Mallory backed up, eyes on his enemy. His arms were almost too heavy to wield the dull blade. The four-armed heavy-set soldier croaked twice before he finally stopped moving. The kill had been hard-won but had bought him some time. He looked around, making sure no more soldiers were inbound.

Ahead, bodies covered the ramp leading to the broken open gate below while the four-armed bastards relentlessly pushed through. The clear lines between sides had dissolved into a melee that sprawled from where he stood, higher on the slope, to a dozen feet from the rubble that had been their wall.

The ordered four-armed soldiers were fighting in duos and trios, killing the untrained Earthlings easily and efficiently. Initially, they had been almost equally matched, but as soon as the standoff fighting escalated into this free-for-all, things had gone from bad to worse. What confused Mallory was that the enemy's main force hadn't joined. Only a single group of roughly six to seven hundred had charged through the wall after the initial mass attack. Not they really need more. Even this many seasoned well-trained soldiers had proven too much for their defense lines.

We aren't going to survive this, he thought.

Automatically he took another step back and searched for a way to escape the ramp. Up and down were out of the questions, so that meant he'd have to scale the sides. It didn't scare him half as much as it would have a year ago, before the horror show on Earth. No, with his new body, a devilishly handsome specimen of the Graz race combined with his Scout class, he could easily climb down the side. And even if it would have been dangerous, there was no way he would stay here and die. He'd had enough of that for a lifetime, and this new world intrigued him!

Besides, anything would beat having to return to that fake world, or realm or whatever, stuck in some pod.

He shivered at the memories of his time spent bodiless in that tiny prison, waiting for the weird energy to form his body. The nightmares of a thin barrier holding back horrible monsters still woke him, even months after. He couldn't imagine having to go through that again.

"Mallory, stop zoning out!"

Mallory looked up to see one of the self-proclaimed leaders, Jill Harison, scowling at him. She was an impressive sight, a head taller than him and wielding her massive yet oddly crafted two-handed sword of rock and mushroom wood. She was one of the few that had chosen the Goliarn race. Mallory didn't think it was an intelligent move. Although physically as strong as the monsters that hid in the mountains around them, they didn't seem as well endowed in the thinking department. At least, not from what he had been able to gather.

"No new ones came through the gate for a few minutes now! We need to clear up this initial force and close the gate before they change their mind," Jill shouted.

"Are you crazy?" Mallory said before he could stop himself. "There is no way we can beat these guys!"

Before Jill could answer, Mallory's sensitive ears picked up a loud commotion from higher up the slope behind them, and he spun around.

A few hundred feet up and near the inner gate, the four-armed soldiers were retreating, grouping back in a line, before slowly backing up in his direction.

What the hell has them spooked? he thought.

He couldn't see what was in front of them due to the angle, which pissed him off. He hated not being in the loop. Whatever was going on, he didn't believe that the no-skill's that had arrived over the last few weeks pushed them back. That wasn't possible… was it?

"What the hell is going on back there?" he muttered.

"Mallory! Fight, you bastard!"

Malory saw that Jill had intercepted another enemy, slicing at a four-armed soldier, easily keeping his short daggers at bay with her four-foot sword. The way she moved made no sense, faster than anything that large should be able to, and easily keeping up with the smaller, lightly armed enemy.

A bloody monster she is, Mallory thought. He reasoned that if all defenders had been like her, they might have stood a chance. Still, why did she have to be on his case all the time? Who was she to tell him to risk his life again and again?

If you want to act tough, why don't you go to the center of the battle instead of hiding along the fringes, he thought, barely keeping his annoyed outburst to himself. Not that the alternative was much better.

"Stop bitching, chicka," Mallory drawled in his best fake Spanish accent. "Something is happening behind us, at The Last Line."

Last Line in my dreams, he thought as he looked up again.

When the enemy army began their assault, they had been so brave, saying they would make sure nobody would pass them and enter the city. No, they would take out any stragglers. Mallory had privately laughed at their hubris, but now he wondered if one of them had power-leveled somehow. He hated it when someone came and said, 'told you so'.

After ten seconds of nothing changing, he was about to return to the battle when a hard-to-see figure moved towards the four-armed soldiers.

Grablons, he absently reminded himself. It would pay to learn the names of these fellows, as he might have to interact with them again.

"What the… Who is that fool? Why Is he attacking them on his own?" Jill shouted as she kicked away a dead soldier and moved beside him.

Mallory didn't reply. Instead, he focused on a bright light that appeared from the figure's hands while a nasty grin appeared on the charging Grablon's face. Without thinking, Mallory ducked, turned his back away, and closed his eyes.

He was just in time, as a dragon-like roar erupted from behind, drowning out the constant fighting sounds. The world lit up even through his eyelids, and a whoosh of air, hot and painful, slammed into his back. If he hadn't ducked, he would have been knocked off his feat, but even now, he felt his feet slide, his balance failing. He flung himself forward on the ground, hands over his head as he counted in his head.

4, 5, 6.

The roaring and the hot wind finally stopped at nine, and the sudden silence was jarring.

Mallory had a dull ringing in his ears, and the exposed parts of his back and legs felt sandblasted. He rolled over and scrambled up, looking around. Below, the battle had stopped, the combatants lying on their backs or slowly struggling to their feet. Everything, clothes, armors, and weapons, were singed, and tiny trickles of smoke floated up from hair that had burned. A dark cloud of ash and soot hung over everything, making it look like a bomb had gone off. Or someone had shot a flamethrower down.

A pained groan came from his left, and Mallory looked at the source. He instantly turned away again, feeling his stomach roil.

Red blisters covered Jill's face, and one of her eyes had turned a milky white. Even as sick as he fell, Mallory knew one thing for sure. She'd not been a looker before, but now she was definitely going to have trouble finding someone who could stomach her.

A faint scream came from the gate battle, and he turned around again, annoyed. One of the Grablon soldiers had gotten up and decided to use what had happened as a distraction. He stood over a dead defender, his daggers dripping blood.

Yeah, time to get out of here, Mallory thought as he looked up the hill and the source of the firestorm. His eyes widened involuntarily, and he swallowed.

The prime target of the blast, the row of Grablon soldiers, had been blasted apart. Charred corpses covered a v-shaped section of black sand, and only some soldiers had survived around the edges. Those were stumbling away, some supporting each other, and none looked ready for more fighting. Behind them, Mallory now had a clear view of the small group of un-skilled defenders of the Final Line. They were gaping at the massacre, weapons lowered, some vomiting.

Two figures were moving towards the slaughter. The tallest was a thin Goliarn, the same race as Jill, but as impressive as he was, he wasn't what drew the most attention. Walking next to him was a Grablon, topless and heavily muscled. His body was a mass of partially healed wounds, scars, and long scratches, but he seemed unbothered. Something about him was familiar, but Mallory couldn't put his finger on it. He had seen him somewhere; the strong jaw, long hair, and stern face. Why was it so familiar? As the Grablon moved between the destruction, he held out his hand, and a chunk of bleeding purple flesh dropped into it.

Mage or pocket dimension? Mallory thought as he swallowed. Who the hell is that? No, wait, better yet, where the hell did he come from?

A worried shout came from behind. Now what? He spun on his heel to see the Grablon soldiers regrouping. They had been spread around in two's and three's before, but now they rapidly returned into an organized line. They ignored the defenders as they ran forward, only shoving and stabbing those in their way. All of them were staring at the Grablon walking down towards them.

This ought to be fun, Mallory thought as he backed up, stepping as close to the edge as he dared without risking plummeting down.

The bare-chested Grablon seemed unperturbed by the soldiers, but the thing Goliarn stopped, worry and fear warring on his face. The Grablon continued on alone until he stopped twenty feet before the incoming soldiers. He calmly gazed out across the mass of heads and raised daggers. He cleared his throat, then shouted in a deep, rough voice.

"You're all from Grammanite I take it? Listen, I've got friends from there, and I don't want to tell them I might be responsible for killing their kin. So how about this? Nimron is currently fighting with the other Deities. Why don't the lot of you just get out of my city and wait until you hear from him!"

Mallory's eyebrows rose at the audacity of the Grablon. Arms loosely along his side, he seemed unafraid of the hundreds of soldiers ready to storm him. Then Mallory blinked, seeing the fingers of one arm constantly moving, hidden from view behind another.

A heavily armored soldier stepped in front of the others. "You are Est, the Fearless four-armed Prime?" he shouted. A symbol of three silver daggers shone on his chest, and he had the bearing of someone who was used to being in charge.

It's him! Mallory thought as he gaped at the Grablon, Est. Now he knew why the face seemed so familiar. Besides her own, the tall Grablon was the lone statue aligning Rathica's temple in the city. He was her first Prime, the one they had all knew. He was supposedly the first human on Kernstalion and the one who managed to save their souls. Whatever that meant.

If he had carried an ax, it would have been easier, Mallory thought.

Whispers began in the army, showing not even most of the Gramanite Soldiers had known. Behind them, some defenders were regrouping, whispering amongst themselves. Slowly they created a line on the other side of the Grablon soldiers.

"Yeah, that's me. Now listen, don't make me blast you all, okay?"

The soldier gazed at Est, then turned to the soldiers. "Don't be afraid! Nimron has put a bounty on this one's head! He who gets the killing blow will become Nimron's first Prime! Slay him, and let all know the power of the house of Kellgwain! Show this body-stealing-alien how we deal with interlopers!'

Shouting and angry roaring came from the soldiers, and they began scratching their daggers together, creating an eerie, shrieking storm of sounds.

Malory backed up another half a step, his heels touching the edge of the ramp: a deadly drop with smooth edges. You might be strong and all that, but I think you are biting off more than you can chew now, he thought. Besides, even if he could pull it off, he wouldn't be able to deal with the entire army stationed in front of the city. That meant this was a perfect distraction for him to get out of here.

"Well, suit yourselves," Est shouted as he moved ahead again. "Thanks for the Karma, by the way. I'll be sure to use it well!"

Malory had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't care either way. He was about to turn and climb down when Est turned to him, his dark eyes staring straight into Malory's.

"You. Go up and tell the others to get ready to help with the wounded!" Est said, his voice not brooking any argument.

Malory blinked at Est, then glimpsed at the edge behind him. The other's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous gleam appeared in them. Malory quickly stepped away from the edge and up the slope. Right, right. Of course this would happen!

"On it!" he shouted. Then he turned and ran up.

Dammit, this is going to get me into trouble. I'll just warn the others, then leave from the other side.

--

The Graz moved, but I wondered if he would actually do as I asked. I'd forgotten how selfish people could be, and Earthlings were no exception. The skittish look of the other made me think of rats.

The Gramanite soldiers were moving towards me, and I sighed. I really didn't want to cast improved Controlled Conflagration again. The images of the burned carcasses from the first one still had my stomach in a knot.

A quick look behind them showed that the earthling defenders had disengaged and were staring at the reassembled Gramanite army. With some luck, they were too far to be hit by my attack, though there were no guarantees.

Behind them, I saw a movement in the amassed armies beyond the gate.

There's no way I can make enough fire for all of them, I thought.

I gritted my teeth and began casting Controlled Conflagration again. I wondered if I'd even be able to end the ones before me.

Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I jumped back as a dagger spun through the space I'd stood. My hands fumbled the casting, and I snarled in anger. Two shadowy figures moved towards me, solidifying in loosely garbed Grablons with multiple daggers across their chest and two in their hands. A shout came from ahead, and the line moved like a single monster, thudding feet cousin a tremor.

Shit. I'd been way too sure of myself! I'd imagined the soldiers would just stay put while I blasted them, which in hindsight, was stupid.

I started casting Controlled Conflagration again while at the same time dashing at the two assassins. A dagger slashed at me, but way too slow. I knocked it aside and slammed one of my own into the assassin's face faster than he could dodge. As he stumbled back and screamed, I blinked at how much faster I was. Perhaps this would be fine?

Something thudded into my shoulder, and pain flared up as a dagger slashed deep down. My fingers jolted, and the casting was interrupted again.

Dammit!

I turned on the second assassin that rapidly backed up. Even though I was much faster, they had obviously done this two-on-one tactic before. I could still kill them, but I was on a clock. The soldiers were less than forty feet away, and if I didn't finish casting Controlled Conflagration soon, they would be on me. It was highly unlikely I could fight them all in melee, especially without my ax. I missed the heavy armament, as well as my Vengeful Spirits.

A shuffle behind me made me jump sideways, and another dagger flashed through the air. The assassin I'd slashed in his face was still standing, blood pouring from a deep gash as he glared at me with one good eye. Then he dodged back, out of range, and I cursed. This was taking too long; the soldiers would be here in mere moments!

A spear whistled through the air and slammed into the back of the assassin. Surprised, I looked up to see Jack and the Graz run towards me, followed by a group of other defenders.

"Go cast the spell. We will take care of those small fry!" Jack roared.

Right, I'm not alone, I thought.

A nasty grin came to my face as I turned around, beginning the spell again. Something moved to my left, and my grin turned ugly as I was about to turn when a smooth, oily voice came.

"Got it!"

I still glanced sideways to see the Graz dance with a third assassin. How many of those bastards were there? Behind me, Jack and the others were spread out and looking around. As my fingers danced over the gestures, I gazed at the incoming soldiers.

The first line threw a mass of daggers at me just as I was about to finish Controlled Conflagration. Like a hail of glass, the metallic-gleaming wooden blades flew toward me, and I instinctively groaned when I knew what was coming. Can't stop now! I groaned, raised two arms to guard my face, and continued casting.

Daggers slammed into my arms, legs, and chest just before the spell finished, and I focused all my attention on not having them interrupt my fingers. A year ago, I would have failed, if not from the pain, then at least from the shock of having foreign objects pierce my flesh. Now? The shock was nothing to me, and the pain was nowhere near what I'd gone through over the last months. With clenched teeth, I ignored the foreign objects poking into me and finished the spell. I pushed in a single point of Karma, still not daring to do too much, and leaned forward in preparation as another roar of fire erupted from my hands.

Even with my eyes closed, I felt like I was looking into a bright lamp. The heat was intense, instantly burning away my barely regrown eyebrows. The daggers rapidly heated up, roasting my flesh like barbeque pokers. Between that and being pushed back on my feet, it took all my willpower to remain standing as time passed far too slow.

Ten seconds later, the roaring blessedly stopped. I slumped forward onto my knees. My chest felt like it was a mass of heat and pain, and I ripped out the daggers, the flesh on my fingers sizzling from the heat.

"Incoming!' Jack's deep voice came as he ran past me.

I sucked in deep breaths of air and looked ahead. The soldiers hadn't stopped, and those on their feet ran forward, trampling the scorched bodies of their fellows. I'd barely killed half, and those on the sides seemed largely unhurt while I was staggering on my feet, covered in dozens of dagger wounds. Jack and the other defenders were arranged in a haphazard line in front of me, but I saw some look back in fear. They were close to breaking before even engaging.

> More flesh!

I sent to Par.

I was happy when there was no snarky comment, just a weight that solidly fell on my outstretched palm. I bit a large chunk of flesh and swallowed it without chewing while getting on my feet. A ping showed the regeneration was kicking in.

"Fight," I roared as I moved forward. Either shocked by my words or emboldened, the tottering defense line stayed put. My weariness and pain rapidly diminished as the soldiers slammed into the small group of perhaps a hundred thin, under-skilled defenders.

A spear stuck out of a nearby corpse, and I scrambled towards it, grabbed it, and cast Bolt Caster. It was enough for a single one, and as I bit off another mouthful of flesh, swallowing it whole, I rushed at the battle. On the other side, the remainder of the lower guard defenders joined in, but even with them, we were outnumbered two to one.

I'll just have to cover the other half then, I thought with a snarl. I shot a bolt into a soldier's face, causing him to drop before he could kill Jack.

Time passed in a confusing mess of chaotic bloodshed, screaming, and movement as I remained in the center of the churning mass of flesh and daggers. Halfway, I began jumping in between spears. As they slammed into my constantly regenerating body, I used their wood to create more bolt casters. The spearheads remained lodged in my body, the flesh healing around it faster than they could be pushed out, and a part of me knew I'd have to cut those out later, and that part shuddered at the prospect. The other, calmer part of me ignored the odd hard things lodged in my flesh. I used my arms to guard my heart and head while keeping a single hand free to continue to stuff demonic flesh down my gullet.

The Grammanite Soldiers never stopped coming for me, didn't give an inch, and seemed intent on getting the killing blow. Because they focused so heavily on me, and as more of them died, the balance slowly shifted.

Suddenly I heard someone scream my name, and I snapped my head around. There was nothing to hit, and no spears hurled my way.

Jack stood ten feet away from me.

"Est, you can stop! They are gone!"

I blinked and looked around. I hadn't even realized I'd been standing in the center of a ring of carnage, bodies lying around me with bolts sprouted from faces, eyes, and throats. The few soldiers still there were fighting back to back as the defenders swarmed them. Only the older one with the silver dagger emblem stood tall and alone, like a gnarled root. He was glaring around, his daggers dripping with blood as he seemed to dare anyone to come near him.

I looked at him, then raised all four arms and shot four bolts at him from twenty feet away. He must have some warning skill because his head turned as his four gauntleted arms rose in front of his head and neck. Three bolts bounced off, but the last one hadn't been aimed at his face. It sprouted from his knee, causing him to yelp and stumble. The defenders rushed him, but he still managed to kill two before they finished him.

A second later, the rest of the soldiers stopped moving, and a sudden quiet rang out. The defenders looked around, tired and bleeding, some barely able to stand. There was no cheering, no roar of victory. Instead, they turned to the gate and the army beyond with weary resignation.

The utter difference from the battle at Tenziran was immense, and I slowly lowered my arms. Dozens of sharp, solid objects lodged inside various parts of my flesh ached and cut as I moved, and I took a bite of flesh.

"Is that some type of healing meat?" Jack asked as he looked at the chunk with hopeful eyes.

"It's demon flesh and poisonous," I said as I quickly gulped the last bit down. "My demon poison resistance is what makes it heal me."

Jack sighed and looked around. "Too bad… we are going to lose a lot of good people then."

I looked at the massive number of wounded and unmoving defenders and knew he was right.

"Trouble for another time," I said as I looked down the slope at the gate. "First, we have to survive."