Hump stared at the reinforcing adventurers, still on one knee and gasping for breath. The five of them charged into the fray, carving through the ranks of monsters with powerful blessings, killing trees and beasts alike before they had a chance to strike. It took hardly a moment to realise he was looking at a party of bronze rankers. And most impressive of all was the lightning wielder. His aura filled the space around him like a physical force, bolts of lightning streaming from him to strike at anything that stepped inside his range. It was no simple blessing. This was Soul Manifestation. He was a fourth circle Chosen.

“Hump!” Celaine shouted, jerking his shoulder.

Hump turned to her, startled.

Her face relaxed. “You were zoning out. We’re not out of this yet.”

Around him, the others formed a circle. Marcela held her sword in two hands, watching as creatures recovered from the combination of his White Flame and the sudden appearance of the Chosen in the village.

“What was that?” Marcela asked him.

“My strongest spell,” Hump said between breaths. He groaned as he forced himself to his feet, staggering and catching himself on his staff. “And one I’m too tired to use again.”

“I’m not surprised,” Marcela said. “It worked though. The dryad’s dead.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Eve said.

“They’re still coming through,” Nina said. “You said this would stop them. You said they would stop attacking if we killed it.”

“It’s still too soon to tell,” Emilia said. “We need to get back to the village and group with the others.”

“Agreed,” Marcela said. “Can you walk, Hump?”

He could feel the cold spreading from his soul. White Flame had taken almost everything from him. A fire fuelled by his will and his essence. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation like essence overuse though. Rather, it was like the warm burn after exercise, only a chill instead.

Hump nodded, already envisioning the River and Waves coursing through him. “I can walk, but I won’t be much use in a fight.”

“Dalton, stay close to him,” Marcela ordered. “Make sure he gets back in one piece.”

“No problem.” The paladin’s armour clanked as he came to stand with Hump. “Hold still a second.”

The man placed a hand on his shoulder, chanting something under his breath. A holy light filled the air around Hump, and suddenly he felt a little of his strength return to him. His lungs stopped burning and the cold retreated.

Marcela swiped her sword, manifesting a blade of water from the edge that sliced through the air, carving deeply into what Hump thought was once a Stonetusk. It huffed at the impact but only picked up its pace. The giant creature’s body had swelled to the point that its face was hidden beneath folds, and only the glow of eyes peered out from within the mess of flesh. What must have once been a trunk now hung longer than a sword, with bone spikes protruding from the end, swinging side to side as it charged.

Emilia veered right, getting around its side and lunging at it with her rapier. The blade pierced its chest, and the creature jerked but didn’t stop. Celaine shot an arrow through its eye and this time it staggered, wailing in pain. It was an awful sound. These were not evil monsters, but innocent creatures twisted into monstrosities. Marcela quickly closed the distance and finished the poor beast off with a swing through the neck.

“Let’s move,” Marcela said. “We need to work our way back. Stay together and follow my lead. Bud, I want you up front with me to help take some of the pressure off.”

“Of course,” Bud said.

Around them, the creatures were starting to gather. They seemed sluggish compared to before, as if the dryad’s death had somehow fazed them. It didn’t seem to last long though. Snarls filled the space around them as the giant beasts stepped closer, clumping Hump and the others together. The creatures moved awkwardly, as if their newfound bulk handicapped their power, but instilled with the frenzy of the dungeon it mattered little. They knew no fear, and now that they had their scent, it was clear they were hungry.

Three creatures at the front suddenly charged. Hump saw parts of the wolf they once were: clumps of matted fur, a tail too short for their new body, claws so long now they dug into the earth. It was their fangs that truly drew his eyes; long enough to pierce through their own mouth, wetting them with blood. Thick rivulets of saliva ran from them as the creatures opened their mouths again, a deep rumbling snarl gurgling from them.

Bud tried to meet the attack, his frostfire aura surging forward and enveloping the wolves. It slowed them down, frosting the surface of their leathery skin. He stabbed out with his sword at the closest one, frostfire leaping from his blade like a spear of flame. The creature reared back, wailing in pain. At Bud’s sides, Marcela and Emilia were ill-equipped to take such large foes head on. They veered left and right, getting around the flank of the beasts. Patrick flashed forward on a jet of fire, the rogue getting behind the wolves and attacking from the rear.

A thud hammered to the left, and Hump turned as what must have once been a boar barrelled toward him. Hump readied his staff, preparing a shield to cover Nina, Emery, and Larisa at his side, but the illusionist released her magic first. The boar veered to the right, straight into Dalton’s awaiting shield. The paladin took the charge, sliding back but remaining steady as a wall on his feet. He stabbed over the top of the shield with his sword, drawing blood. Again he stabbed, over and over, puncturing the beast’s shoulder, its neck, its ear. The beast fell back, shaking its head and releasing an angry huff. Steam rose from its nostrils, curving around the long, stone tusks that protruded from either side.

Nina waved her wand and a blade of water shot along the arc. It caught the creature in the jaw, tearing one side from its face until it hung from only a single strand of flesh. The beast fell to the ground wailing, exposing its neck. Dalton was there without hesitation, plunging his sword deep into the beast’s throat. It flailed on the ground, blood pouring, and then it went still. Red essence leaked from its body like fumes.

Hump surveyed their surroundings. Back behind them, a horde of hammertooths devoured the body of the stonetusk they’d killed before, buying them a little time. A chorus of squeaky snarls accompanying their feast. Hump turned back to the fight at the front to find three dead wolves, and a new collection of monsters blocking their path. It seemed a pack of the wolves had been caught by the dungeon’s expansion and came here together. Around them were more silverback deer, hanging back from the larger creatures.

Not ten paces beyond, Patrick was in trouble. Half the wolves worked together to keep Bud and the others from advancing to his aid, while the others hounded him. The rogue was separated from the rest of them, the left side of his face bloodied and one of the squirrel-like hammertooths on the ground at his feet. It didn’t take much to piece together what had happened. He was gasping, both daggers held before him, stabbing at anything that came close, a whirlwind of fiery blows following each of his attacks. He dodged and weaved backward, pushed toward the forest as more wolf creatures gave chase.

“Focus on the right flank,” Marcela shouted. “Patrick, we’re making you a gap.”

He didn’t answer, too caught up in just staying alive.

Hump drew on a little of his essence and flicked a stone from his pocket, stabbing his staff at the face of the closest wolf on the right. Bronze light caught the stone and sent it hurling forward in a burst of power. “Dustshot.”

Cracks of bronze formed in the stone. In an explosion of essence, it burst apart, showering the creature’s eyes in rockdust. It staggered, shaking its head furiously. Before it recovered, an arrow pierced its mouth, burying itself in its throat. The wolf died choking on its blood.

The others pushed forward, wedging their way into the gap created by the fallen wolf and pushing the others back. Hump hurried to keep up, Dalton remaining close to him and the other more vulnerable combatants. Nina launched hails of droplets into the creatures, causing pain more than significant damage, but buying openings for others to land quick and deadly blows. Hump tried to conserve his strength, focusing on his lower cost abilities, and continuing to channel River and Waves. There was no telling how long the fight might last, even with the bronze rankers nearby.

He used Transform Earth to trip beasts on sudden soft ground, or exploding small pockets at their feet, staggering them and creating opportunities. On Hump’s left, a deer approached making a hacking sound. It spat at them, a globule the size of a fist aimed at his group. Swiping his staff, he used Parry Shield to smash it aside, Kesha killing it with a perfectly shot arrow through the skull. Hump breathed a cold breath, his fingers tingling from the use of more essence. Even against an attack with as little mass as the bubble of spit was difficult for him to take head on. He had to be more efficient.

“Oh no,” Hump murmured.

Through the gap, Hump saw the moment the wolf’s jaws locked around Patrick’s leg, dragging it out from under him. He hit the ground hard, screaming in pain and lashing out with his dagger. He plunged the blade through its eye, deep into its skull where it remained, stuck. The beast raised its head and cried out, and Patrick’s now free hand snatched at its neck. His hand glowed with fire so hot it turned blue. Flesh charred, hair burnt, the smell filling the air like meat. His fingers dug deep into its throat, blood spurting from the wound, showering Patrick. It tried frantically to pull away, but Patrick only crushed harder. And then it gave. There was a crunch, and then the wolf collapsed on top of him, kicking its death throes.

And then he spotted Dylan leaping over the creatures standing between them, somehow arriving to reinforce from the village. The aura of Aspect of the Ape filled the air around him, and he moved with such agility that he was all but untouchable. He reached Patrick, fighting off the remaining beasts with his staff. Vines sprouted around him, joining in his attacks like whips, a torrent of blows around him as if he wielded five weapons at once. The wolves backed off, and then Bud reached their rear, sword blazing. The others were around him, sending even the dungeon amplified monsters into retreat. Dylan grabbed Patrick from under the wolf and hauled him out, the rogue screaming as his bloody leg dragged limply behind them.

“Get to the village!” Marcela shouted.

Hump turned, only to find more monsters racing at them from the village. A few blightroot trees remained, their trunks chipped and leaking with sap. Bloodied monsters charged toward them. Hump pulled out his spellbook, opening it to Essence Blast and throwing what was left of his essence into his focus. Only the monsters didn’t come for them.

They passed them by, and Hump realised Larisa’s veil had once more fallen over them. As the tide of monsters cleared, Hump realised why Dylan had come. The monsters were in retreat, chased by a battalion of angry villagers with a party of bronze rankers at their head. Bodies littered the fields and streets, both of monsters and of men. The ground was red with their blood, glistening in Corvin’s still shining light, radiating from the belltower.

The lightning user approached, his armour and face speckled with blood, his blades dripping with it. There was still the buzz of static around him.

“Who’s in charge here?” he asked.

Marcela stepped forward. “I am.”

The man’s eyes widened in recognition. “Lady Daston.” He gave a nod of his head. She was out of breath, her hair clinging to her face, slick with sweat, but there was no way a bronze ranked adventurer of Sheercliff wouldn’t recognise her. “My name is Jacob Hark. We were ordered to come here and reinforce the villages, but when we found the first one empty we feared the worse. What’s the situation?”

Hump recognised the name.

“We gathered most of the villagers here,” Marcela said. “Retreat wasn’t an option with the surrounding lands full of crazed beasts. When the dungeon expanded it caught us in the forest and claimed the life of Matthias, a member of my party.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m afraid the situation in the dungeon isn’t any better.”

Marcela frowned. “What happened?”

Jacob shook his head, dismayed. “I don’t know. Ricard led the main force ahead and something went wrong. The expedition failed. We tried to hold the encampment, but were soon ordered to retreat.”

“Gods mercy,” Eve whispered. “Is Ricard alive?”

“I don’t know,” the man said. “He gave us our orders, and we followed them here. I don’t know what happened afterward.”

Marcela sighed. “I’m glad you made it at least. I’m not sure we would have lasted much longer. And Ricard’s alive, I’m sure of it. That man won’t die easily.”

Hump wasn’t so sure. In his experience, it didn’t matter if one was a mighty Chosen or an unfortunate farm boy, one unlucky hit was all it took to end it all.

He decided not to voice that opinion. If Marcela wanted to cling to hope, who was he to take it from her? He watched as the monsters fled back to the forest, disappearing into long shadows. And then he turned back to the village, his stomach sinking at the sight. There were so many wounded. The night would be a long one yet.