“Go go go go go go—!” shrieked Alexander, pushing his team into the nearest fucking alley to avoid the oncoming tsunami.

A portal had opened above Eden Street, comparable to the one that’d brought the dragon. But this one didn’t bring a dragon. It had water instead, most likely connected directly into another world’s ocean.

A thick, deafening waterfall blasted from the rift, crashing into the street below and immediately taking out any vehicles and people that’d unluckily been caught there. The System rang violently in low-pitched dings, alerting him of Slayer deaths (higher-pitched dings were for incapacitations).

When it came, Alexander had lingered for a second to take in the sight: a rushing wave of dark water slamming into every car and building, flooding every interior and even tilting some buildings. At first, the incident had taken place several blocks away, seeming somewhat isolated at the moment. A second later it exponentially grew, crossing such a large distance.

Water moved much faster than he’d imagined.

Him and the rest of his team scurried into an alleyway as Eden Street combusted into roaring shouts and water, the latter overpowering the desperate cries, which had become ominously distant. Everything got darker. Light installations broke, being watered down or just taken out altogether.

Vernon yelled something, Althea yelled back; Alexander couldn’t read lips but he could roughly make out what they’d been arguing about: they couldn’t outrun the wave. Hell, most Slayers couldn’t unless you had speed-enhancing magic. The only way to escape was to go to the roofs and hope the buildings won’t collapse with you on them.

Alexander cursed and looked around, frantically searching for a back door. Ahead of them, ten meters to the right. He grabbed the nearest shoulders he could touch (Damien, Althea) and pointed. Everybody got the memo.

Sprinting as fast as they could, Leona arrived at the door first nearly running into it. She pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. Fist banged against steel, desperate attempting to smash it open until Alexander tore her off and stepped back and kicked.

The steel vibrated, making a dull, drowned-out hollow sound.

He audibly cursed, shouting at the door to open (as if that’d work) before kicking again. The lock snapped open, the door violently flinging backwards revealing a devastated interior on the other side. Some sort of store, Alexander didn’t know and didn’t care and it could go to hell for all he wanted.

He stood at the doorway, pulling everyone in one-by-one making sure they’d get in first: Leona, then Vernon, Althea, and finally Damien—that was everyone!

A howl temporarily caught his attention for a moment. Sounded relatively close. He could hear the water too. Metal crunching and people screaming and entire buildings creaking and moaning and the ground was rumbling, everything felt like it was going to fall apart. Not good, not fucking good.

Alexander repeated “Shit—shit—shit!” over and over and over, following behind his team as Leona tried to find the nearest stairs but this place was a fucking maze and nothing was intuitive and he didn’t want to die in a run-down shop like this.

Althea shared his impatience and shouted something along the lines of: “Where’s the fucking stairs?!” as she pushed through heaps of trash on the floor, kicking splintered wood and cans.

After passing through a room or two, perilously listening to the rushing water closing in on their location, the growing sounds acting as a clock ticking louder and louder to their death, Leona was the first to spot the stairs when she turned a corner. She yelled at them to come, pounding on the walls with her fist to get their attention.

Turning the corner revealed a long hallway with several doors on both sides, and a broken window was at the end alongside a tipped over drawer and a broken flower pot. On the left, the stairs were there—thank God for stairs.

This time, Leona was the one who ensured everyone made it up: Vernon, Damien, Althea, yanking them by the arms and pushing them. Althea stumbled, taking one more step than she intended and ending up banging her knees, but she powered through and basically crawled on her hands and feet, being dragged to safety by the men once climbed high enough.

Last was Alexander.

Leona yelled, and he could hear her clearly this time: “Come on, Alex!” She extended a hand. He rounded the railing, grabbing it and feeling it dangerously tip over to his side. Something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. People running. Things sliding on the road.

He stopped for a moment, only for a moment.

He had been woefully dumbfounded seeing the wave’s progression, had watched it take out vehicles weighing tens and saw people being dragged away helplessly, crying as water filled their lungs and they drowned. Things like these dealt in instants, sort of like life and death: one moment you breathed air, probably not good, fresh air right now, but air nonetheless; and in the next, water, water, water.

So dealing in instants, knowing that he paused for less than a second, both his mind and heart knew he’d made a devastating, yet realistically human mistake.

The wave blasted through the open window at the end of the hall, combusting through the space like a great explosion.

Somehow, his body moved on its own. Automatic, operating on instincts that he’d honed for more than a decade. He gripped onto the unsteady railing, pushed himself off the sloped platform it was stuck to, and tried to jump over and take Leona’s hand.

He couldn’t even step onto the platform before the water came.

Darkness.

Last thing he saw was black water crashing into him. His mind rang echoes of someone coarsely screaming. At first he couldn’t recognize the voice, but as he shut his eyes an image was conjured. Blurry initially.

He could make it out though: a smile and kind eyes and a laugh that made his heart turn and he’d promised to stay with her and never leave her alone, because her parents had done that and it’d damaged her.

“No—!” he gasped and reached out, felt cold water and spun around, lungs burning and eyes stinging. Something was in them, dirt or blood or wood, he couldn’t know, breathed a gulp of air—“No!”—dunked back in, an image flashed. Black hair and silver-white eyes, like his, she had to grow old and nagging, give him nieces and nephews (because he wouldn't be a good dad).

Felt air again—“No!”—bounced, crashed against something hard. Car, street, wall, could be anything really, back stung and his arm fucked, foot hit something, twisted. Bangs rang and things crashed and people screamed, clutching, clawing, begging—“No!”. Someone grabbed onto him, a maniac yelling in his ear and crying, dragged him under. He scrambled, pushed around by the waves, kicked them off, their screams becoming distant.

More images popped up. A woman had been smiling, patting his head, had told him how good of a boy he was and how bright of a future he once had. “No!” Memories scarred into him, burnt his lungs further, rawing his throat out. Crossbow bolts had ripped and had sunk deeply into flesh, blood had been spewing, he crashed again, disorientated and didn’t know left from right. But she’d died and had haunted him for years like this. “No!”

His head cracked against something, dazed him, taking his breath out and swallowing a lung-sized gulp of water. Violently coughing. Blood was pouring out. Just like Dad back then, had fought against a horde and had held them back, hacking and smashing and killing, protecting his children. He’d died too and was honored with broken promises.

“No—!” Alexander breathed. “No—!” breathing, “No—!” a breath, “No—!” a scream, “No—!” yelling, “No—!” more air, “Please no—!” and something visceral, of a man being in pieces more times than whole.

Something got him, like invisible hands had taken hold of his body. Suddenly out of the drink, lifted into the air, and his eyes felt like they were being melted. A pathetic whimper came from him, suddenly put down on unmoving ground, steady, stable.

He flopped onto his side heaving. Then vomiting, everything left his stomach violently and further burned his throat. Felt like it was bleeding. Once it was over, he laid on his back as water dripped down his face—tears? Pained moans left him, halfway between sobs and gasping. Everything hurt. Burned. Cracked. Different sorts of pain. Reminded him he was alive. Fortunately, miserably alive.

Someone got close to him, touched his shoulder. He batted them away, supporting himself with his bad arm and immediately collapsed, groaning and hissing. He yelled something unintelligible: Get away! Fuck off! something between the two, frantically trying to slide back but failing.

“Hey hey, it’s me!” they called, voice far. “Alexander Shen! It’s Professor Hei, it’s a friend! It’s a friend! Are you responsive?”

“Ah…” it left him. His mouth was surprisingly dry, but he nodded, lips moving into a silent ‘yeah’.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted. No, barely. Alexander wore contacts and they must’ve been fucked, but he could make out the colors: dirty ocean-bright hair and brighter eyes. Yup, that was Professor Hei. Looked like a mess but a hundred times better than him. “It’s a miracle we caught you, Alexander.”

He nodded again; his mind was torn between two places: what’d happened back in Hangzhou and today. Memory and reality coming together, inseparable; the taste of smoke was the same on his tongue, the gunfire and the death rattles. Only difference was him. Older, supposedly wiser and stronger. But same old him, brought back constantly to his inescapable past and had no immediate methods to cope. Not here. Not now.

Other than fighting, he guessed.

Professor Hei forced him to lay down. “Don’t move, we’ll have healers here as soon as possible. You managed to survive getting thrashed around; that itself is lucky. You ought to get a lottery ticket after this.”

He didn’t feel lucky. Not at all. Then, a lightning-like thought hit him. “Wait… Althea… Leo… Everyone—“

“I notified them of your survival moments ago; Alba is fine. Shaken just like you, but alright. They managed to get to a rooftop; though considering you’re here, I imagined you all cut it very close.”

An intense wave (pun not intended) of relief came over him. “Thank God… Holy shit…” He violently coughed, then again, and again, until he turned over expecting to vomit more. Nothing came out but blood dripping from his lips and head.

Hei didn’t seem to care that much—she’d probably seen worse. “You’re safe now, okay? You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you under my watch. You’ll be one of the first taken to a healer’s and you’ll feel as good as new.” She looked behind her and frowned. “I have to go. Ask the other Slayers for assistance if you need it.”

Alexander could only nod and watch as Professor Hei left. Everyone was on the roof of a gas station, above the pumps. About ten other people were here as well, most battered and broken like he was. No wait, there was more than ten. About half were definitely dead, eyes blank and empty, having wounds that couldn’t be dealt with.

His eyes worked now, still stinging slightly but nothing was absurdly blurry. Eden Street and its surroundings got hit hard. Every operational structure was destroyed or rendered inoperational. Hundreds of bodies lied face-down in the now-calm waters, dark, bloodied after washing in the aftermath of the Tormented Flesh’s subjugation. Slayers were seen. Soldiers. Killed just as easily from a large tsunami, treated with hardly any difference.

Eden’s forces were absolutely demolished. Although the portal was gone (was long gone, he suspected), it’d put a serious hole in Ordo’s forces, giving way for more monsters to flood the streets while making it difficult for the others to traverse through.

To resolve that, the Slayers were already on it. Preventing the water from jeopardizing the other areas, many Slayers had erected forcefields that blocked every exit, disallowing the water from further flooding the battlefield. Thank God the water was still and nothing seemed to be moving inside. Other Slayers controlled and neutralized the water, using powerful heat magic or destruction magic, however they did it. Water was draining.

Professor Hei was standing at the edge of the roof waving her hands around; she was a manipulator, someone who could control the already-present aspects of the world unlike their close relative, conjurors who simply make it.

Her material of choice was water.

She effortlessly controlled gallons of water with her prowess as an S-Rank Slayer. With a graceful motion of her hands, the water blinked out of existence. Somehow, she’d destroyed the water through some sort of skill or technique. Alexander couldn’t make heads or tails. Didn’t have the energy either.

“Fuck me…” he muttered, laying down and staring at the false night and the fake stars, knowing the battle wasn’t over and he was probably going back to action after this.

Before the disaster, sometimes he’d have days like these. One or twice every month (used to be worse), suddenly taken back to Hangzhou. Those days, he’d usually call in absent and do whatever to take his mind off: studying, exercising, anything to keep him busy. Althea had those days too so she understood, and since Leona had gotten close she’d always call and make sure he didn’t feel alone.

That was how Leona dealt with her problems: talking, most of the time with the stuffed animals she kept, pretending they were people. Kept good company though.

Everyone was having one of those days, which’d been turned to overdrive.

Alexander tried thinking about a better tomorrow but was kept in the past, constantly having to tell himself that this was a transient thing. But today and yesterday continued to merge. So softly, as he typically did when things were at their worst, he muttered, “One, two, three, four, five…”

***

The first thing Leona did was embracing Alexander, burying her face into his chest and holding him vice-tight. The water had mostly been neutralized and Alexander was healed.

Healing acted the same way as their respective potions did: fast and had great effect but left you more vulnerable to injury, alongside additional side effects through overuse.

So having his partner hugging him this tightly wasn’t the most pleasant feeling, but he was glad to see her. Alive, relatively okay. Alexander returned the gesture, rocking her as she stammered through a hundred things.

The others were just as happy to see him kicking: Damien was smiling and Vernon was relieved, and Althea looked as if a weight got lifted from her shoulder.

Leona pulled her head away, looked up at Alexander with tears in her eyes. “Honey, sweetheart,” she said quickly, out-of-breath and anxious, “are you okay—?” (“I’m fine,”) “—are you hurt—“ (“I’m fine, Leo,”) “—do we need to give you a potion—?”

“Leo!” Alexander exclaimed loudly enough to get her to stop. “I’m okay. I got healed, so I’m pretty sensitive right now but I no longer have any broken bones or serious cuts, that’s a plus.”

She frowned, cradling his cheek with one hand. “You don’t look okay. You’re pale.”

Not a surprise. He glanced at Althea. As he did, her expression changed—she recognized the look in his eyes probably. They were in-sync like that after spending so much time together. Knew each other’s tells and could speak through expressions alone; Leona was like that too but not to their extent.

A small chuckle came from him, trying to lighten the mood. “Am I? Shit… I don’t know, guess I’m a little bit shaken.”

Leona looked pained, rubbing her dirt-crusted thumb on his cheek to comfort him. “Are you still going to fight?”

He had a list of reasons to continue. One included her. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” she quietly said, letting go and stepping back. “Professor Hei’s giving another briefing. The battlefield’s having a small respite before the next wave.”

Alba shambed through Eden Street as troops ran by them, assigned to taking the casualties away while they had the chance. Slayers were forming a crowd around Professor Hei, who was standing in front of a humvee on its side. Everybody was worn-out and soaked, not to mention that the night was particularly chilly. She began to update them on the situation.

From the wave, the second and third perimeter had taken considerable casualties but not enough to render it ineffective. They will adapt appropriately. Overall, the defensive structure had worked. They managed to hold against the monsters relatively well, sustaining worrying losses in problematic areas (with this being one of them).

Reinforcements were coming from the other boroughs, soldiers and Slayers alike. Surprisingly, despite bringing in such a large number of troops, the other Comets didn’t attack the loosely-defended locations. Rather, they most likely couldn’t due to using their splitter’s energy here instead, which meant that travel and transportation went relatively smoothly.

This wasn’t the time to lose hope, she had said. Although Edens underwent something awful, Ordo survived. The Comets couldn’t keep summoning portals forever! The first wave had to be the worst, and the rest will be easier and easier so victory was surely in sight!

Everyone needed to continue what they were doing before: using Sage’s program and keep coordinating with others until Pereyra and Tewfik were killed.

Hei looked around, spotting Alexander and staring in his direction. “I have to return to my station, so—!”

The earth jumped. Everyone fell on their knees, screaming followed after.

A second jump happened as the first ended, then a third and fourth and fifth and sixth, occurring near-simultaneously. It was like a cosmic-sized giant stomped on the Earth six times.

Car alarms blared, and the System alerted them of a new message.

Sage:

Do not be alarmed. Archknell has struck.