The fireballs came to Alex’s hands in a rush of instinctive desperation, and he hastily tossed them at the incoming missile in the form of a giant red-skinned beast. Diana had the same idea, and the air hissed as shimmering blades zipped toward the Kruwal.

It was no use. Even as he damn near flew in the air, Scarface blocked all their spells, his arm swinging in an arc to absorb the magic into his silver vambrace. The carved runes on its surface pulsed hungrily.

Alex felt the bridge shaking when Scarface landed not ten feet in front of him like a super hero, three points of contact onto the ground. He rose to his feet as if he had no hurry, slow and languid like a panther, teeth flashing in a fanged smile.

Floundering, Alex scrambled back. Fear lanced through him like a stab in the gut. His magic was useless against this new monster. He was helpless. For the thousandth time, he cursed that first Wild Boar and all its ill-begotten ilk for making him miss click the Mage class.

His eyes flickered to the sides wildly, hoping to found salvation already on the way. But it wouldn’t come. The ritualistic beating of metal had turned into the more natural clashing of weapons. Valerian and Cedric were being mobbed by the Kruwal warriors as they tried to move toward him, and Diana, Daven, and Orson now had their hands full trying to stop the rest of the horde from overrunning the bridge.

That look cost him too. His heel struck a rut in his moment of inattentiveness and he fell back to the ground on his ass. Scarface stalked up to him, each step seeming to take an eternity in Alex’s mind, though he doubted the monster took more than a second before he loomed over him, larger than life itself.

This is it, then. The thought was a sad, resigned thing. It came from a part of his mind he’d long tried to suppress, an old part, a part that had come about when his days were spent crying on the bed of an orphanage. A part that had fed on his misery and grown like a malignant tumor. A leech.

Alex hated it.

Power welled up inside him. Power fed on self-hatred. The best, most motivating kind of hatred. He could feel the heat suffuse his body, his blood metaphysically boiling.

In front of him, Scarface growled something in that strange tongue of the Kruwals. Something derisive, given his teeth-filled smile.

Alex growled back. It wasn’t Scarface’s smug smile that he wanted to wipe off, he realized. It was his own, his past self’s. His weak self. The part of him that pokes its head up when life gets tough and whispers, This is how it’s supposed to be. This is who you are. Now sit down and cry about it. That’s all you’re good for. The fucking leech.

His hands whipped up, and a torrent of bright-red fire roared up at the Kruwal, fire Alex knew was hotter and more destructive than anything he’d manage to create so far.

His arms felt like bursting from the inside, and from where he sat, it looked as if the flames had completely consumed Scarface. The MP counter on the corner of his eyes ticked down rapidly, yet he paid no mind to it. He just had to—

The gurgling, sucking sound killed any hope Alex had that his attack worked. The red flames suddenly twisted and whirled until they were gone in a whoosh. Then Scarface was there, the air around him shimmering from the heat. The vambrace on his arm glowed red like the blood moon, and a strange smell filled Alex’s nose.

The Kruwal growled something, then laughed down at him, his cackles sounding like rocks being ground into gravel.

Alex grit his teeth. Maybe it wasn’t just his past self he wanted to wipe off the face of the earth after all. Scarface was proving to be just as much of a dick.

Quickly racking his mind for his next move, a very stupid idea presented itself to him. But then again, that’s what he had it for. He could feel its weight as it sat tied around his right hip. If the magic isn’t working… Well, it truly was the last line of defence.

Slowly, his hand reached down toward his looted dagger and—

A lance of sharp pain raced up his leg. Alex suddenly found himself screaming, his body rocking back to sprawl against the bridge. His ears rang with the sound of his pain-filled voice.

When he could think again, he looked up, still dazed. Scarface was smiling at him, this smile looking almost pleasant. He nodded toward the dagger and clicked his tongue as if to chide a little child misbehaving, even as he pushed his foot harder down on Alex’s ankle.

Alex held back the scream clogging his throat out of pure spite, but an even more pathetic whimper came out. Black spots filled his vision, and for a moment he thought he would pass out from the pain. Jagged laughter shook him out of his stupor.

Locking his jaw tight, he stared up at Scarface. He wouldn’t give the Kruwal the satisfaction of seeing him pass out. If he was going to die, then he might as well look death in the eye and spit on the face of his killer.

Scarface seemed delighted by the defiance. His dark eyes shone with a manic glee, and for the first time, human words came out of his mouth. “You. Are. Weak,” he growled out. “Your. Kind. Is. Weak. We. Will—”

Alex would never know what Scarface wanted to say. Daven, it seemed, didn’t have the pop-culture background to care about about the big villain’s monologue, and a fist-sized stone suddenly struck the scarred Kruwal on the right temple. Right where his scar started above his eye.

Scarface howled in anger, staggering back a step. Blood welled up on his forehead. The stone fell to the ground with a dull thud. And Alex didn’t even stop to think.

He sprung up, ignoring the flare of pain from his ankle. It felt like his bones had been turned to mush, but he pushed it out of his mind. He would have just this one chance to save himself and the other, and he would put all on the line.

Sliding the dagger out of its sheath, he roared as he drove it into Scarface’s thigh. The Kruwal roared with him and tried to yank his leg back. Alex hung on to the hilt of the dagger for all he was worth—and using it the way a winter climber would an ice-axe, pulled himself up until he came face to face with his enemy.

Scarface’s eyes widened. And for the first time since he stepped up from behind the horde, Alex saw a hint of doubt appear on his face.

Alex smiled through the pain. “Suck on this,” he growled. Then, with his hand not holding the dagger, he pushed all his remaining mana into his most powerful trace, right up against Scarface’s chest before he could block it with his vambrace. The crammed, explosive fireball—the same he’d used against the Sage Treant—detonated on contact.

Back then, that spell had almost killed him with the backlash of the explosion, sending him sprawling through the air like a ragdoll. But he’d come a long way since that happened. His level of control was much greater—and just as important, so was his power.

When he pulled on the spell now, the small, coin-sized fireball wasn’t nearly as unstable. Alex was confident he could control it, channel it away from him. And when it exploded, it was that much more powerful.

He closed his eyes just before the boom, so he wasn’t blinded when there was a great flash of bright while light, followed by a sound like the clap of thunder.

His ears popped, and Alex felt the air quickly displacing when Scarface was sent flying away by the power of the explosion. But he also felt when the bones in his hand and forearm cracked from the backlash of the spell.

Gasping, he fell to his knees, one arm completely useless, the other holding on to a bloody dagger. If the flash of light wasn’t, then the pain itself was blinding.

But then…

Ping!

Level Up!

All the pain was gone in a heartbeat. From his arm. From his ankle. Everything washed away as if it never were. Alex opened his scrunched eyes and allowed himself a smile. His gamble that he’d level up by killing the Kruwal had paid off. Two levels too!

But he didn’t have time to rest on his laurels. Scarface’s black-charred body landed over the tree in front of the bridge, and nearly a dozen Kruwal fell over him like vultures, all grabbing frantically for the anti-magical vambrace.

He grimaced. If one of them got hold of the item, then killing Scarface turned meaningless, and the Kruwal would once again regain the advantage. He couldn’t let that happen.

With his mana and health restored, Alex’s instinct was to mount a counter attack and go all-in on the offensive. And that silver vambrace wouldn’t look terribly awful around his own arm. He’d killed Scarface, after all. It was only fair he got the spoils.

One look at the rest of the crew had him rethinking his options though.

Glancing over the mouth the bridge, Alex finally took stock of what was happening with everyone else. With Scarface—who was likely their leader—dead, the Kruwal that hadn’t piled up on his body seemed to be fighting all the more frantic.

To his left, Cedric had four warriors hounding him and was constantly giving ground, slowly retreating from his advantageous position behind the false log.

These weren’t the dungeon skeletons he could easily overpower, and the crew leader couldn’t seem to score anything more than glancing cuts against the sturdy Kruwals.

On his right, Valerian’s golden-edged axe might’ve had the advantage against the mix of iron and steel weapons of the Kruwal, but the paladin proved himself to be a poor axeman in skill. With many blows passing cleanly through his guard, he was forced to use his hard-light shields to block them. But he was getting tired. Alex could see how weak the light seemed compared to before.

The three people holding the centre looked the worst. Or, at least, their front-line fighter did. Orson huffed tiredly as he held off a trio of Kruwals on his own, a single post of wood swinging deftly in his hands.

He killed one of the monsters as Alex watched, smashing the post against its head hard enough splinters flew from the impact. Orson was strong, but he wasn’t quick enough to block the sword slashing at his chest.

The mayor hissed as the Kruwal scored a cut against him. Blood soaked his shirt. Alex swore, but it was no wonder he was only being lightly covered by Diana and Daven. They were having problems of their own sniping away at Kruwals trying to get over the mud-pit Diana had created from the remnants of her earthquake spell.

But the earth mage was deathly pale, almost swaying in place as she knelt with her hands on the ground. Her mana wouldn’t last long, and if the bulk of the horde managed to escape it, they’d mob them all and finish them off before they could mount any resistance. Alex could only be thankful Daven had had the awareness to target Scarface in time to save him.

Thinking quickly, Alex made up his mind. He might be up for a fight given how broken his levelling system was, but the crew were on their last legs. He could get his hands on a shining new item another time.

They had to retreat before they all died.