A glaive, not that much shorter than the pole Bei stood upon, sliced through it like the wrapped mats she used for practice.

She cloud-stepped to another pole, but it too was chopped down from under her.

“You killed my sister!” one of the bull-horse-men bellowed. “Burn!” he pointed. “Firebolt!”

Bei cloudstepped over the spell.

The shattered arm cradled to her stomach sent spikes of pain radiating up into her shoulder.

Her Qi reserves ran ever lower.

She drew the pistol from her belt.

It felt wrong, but that didn’t stop her from squeezing a few rounds off.

Only one hit her target, plinking off the mage’s chest plate.

“Earthshake Stomp!”

Another cracked the road.

Her pole fell, forcing her to cloudstep before she had gathered her Qi.

“Fisherman’s Cast!”

Another threw a net that caught her in her weakened state.

She hit the ground with a thud.

It didn’t hurt thanks to the awesome armor, but she was now in prime trampling position.

One thundered toward her.

“Furious Fists!” Danilo leapt in with a barrage of blindingly quick strikes to an armored flank.

It was enough to throw three-quarter ton of muscle and armor off target.

Bei cringed away from steel-shod hooves ripping up the road a few feet away from her head.

Danilo danced away from a whirling glaive and received a two-footed back kick to the chest sending him rocketing across the street.

The glaive-wielder continued the charge intent on finishing Bei.

This time Efren leapt in out of nowhere with his spear dancing.

He moved into crane spears the fish.

The tip of his spear repeatedly struck the glaive’s head forcing it off target just enough to keep the both of them alive.

The epitome of speed versus strength.

Every slash of the glaive was met by a dozen quick thrusts of the spear.

Until a firebolt to the back broke Efren’s rhythm.

A thrust missed.

The glaive slashed.

Red splashed across Bei’s faceplate.

Efren stared at his elbow.

The armor had sealed it, but that wasn’t what he noticed.

Where was his hand and arm?

It had just been holding his spear.

Oh…

There it was, a few dozen feet away in the middle of the road, leaking red.

“Help is almost there!”

A loud shout in their helmets.

Marisol’s voice.

A shadow rose over Efren.

Before it could descend a deep, booming voice screamed from somewhere overhead.

A heavy weight came down on the broad back of the glaive-wielding bull-horse-man.

It was a fat man in stained robes.

He looked familiar.

Something about his appearance triggered a memory from long ago.

“My coinpurse,” the fat man groaned. “The movies lie.”

The bull-horse-man bucked.

The fat man grabbed the thick straps across the bull-horse-man’s humanoid torso holding his plate armor in place.

“Listen, young one. I’ve lost my stomach for killing your kind when I found out that you are literal children.”

The fat man pulled himself closer and slowly, like a drunken toddler, wrapped arms and legs around the bull-horse-man’s body.

Thick hands grabbed the horns and head, forcing it to turn back.

“I’ve been drinking all day, night and… urk… day, so I could do this,” he belched into the bull-horse-man’s helm.

The sound echoed across the street.

Bei’s eyes widened.

A visible cloud of alcohol had wrapped itself around the bull-horse-man’s helm-covered head.

He staggered on four legs.

The glaive slipped from his hands.

The fat man stumbled off the broad back, pushing the bull-horse-man.

“Impressive constitution on you, young one. Under other circumstances I would love to share many pints, alas. Evil men make us do evil things. So, be—” he belched, “a good one and go to sleep. I’ve been promised that you won’t be killed.”

The bull-horse-man finally toppled over and set to snoring with the strength to shake an entire house.

“Now, for the rest— oops—”

The fat man ducked a firebolt, then tripped forward, windmilling his arms, which incidentally parried and deflected the thrusts of a huge spear.

He belched another cloud of alcohol that the charging bull-horse-man dealt with by simply holding his breath.

The fat man spun around the charged and countered with a belly bump to the flank, which somehow sent the huge bull-horse-man into a stumbling spin that sent him careening into the rusted remains of a car.

“Oh… apologies, young one,” the fat man bowed, allowing yet another spear strike to pass harmlessly over his broad back, “I’m sure they’ll have a tetanus shot for you… or two… hey, I’ve rhymed. Take that Lyrical Songbird, you arrogant—”

He bent over backwards into the thrusting spear.

“Damn it, you drunk vagabond!” a fox-masked woman appeared out of nowhere to kick the spear aside.

She leapt on the bull-horse-man and with a series of blurring strikes knocked him out.

No.

That wasn’t right.

Bei struggled to see it, but it seemed as though the familiar woman used Qi blocking.

The bull-horse-men were also vulnerable to it, which was good to remember.

Three remained.

“I am Twice Clever Fox,” she bowed to the remaining three. “And I apologize for slaying your kin. I didn’t know the truth of your plight, but that is no excuse. Please, I humbly beg you to lay down your weapons. There is no more need for death on this day. You will soon be free and safe. Just wait a bit longer and you will receive your mothers’ words to that effect.”

The plea predictably failed.

The bull-horse-men were desperate.

Months of fighting and dying in narrow streets on an alien world had pushed them beyond any reasonable limit.

The fact that they were teens and children made it even worse.

“Firebolt!”

“I’ve got this, Fox, just let me— urrkk!”

The Twice Clever Fox grabbed the drunk, fat man by the back of his robes and yanked with a strength belied by her lithe form.

She parted the spell with a two-fingered thrust.

“You were going to spit alcohol at fire!” she snapped.

“It was my anti-fire technique,” he pouted.

“If I had known he’d have me working with you… go!” she kicked him in the butt, “take care of those two. No killing!”

“Hey! Impudent, tiny woman. It was I, who said no to killing first. Remember? I think I recall speaking out about it in council. And then the rest of you lot hemmed and hawed. Honor this, honor that. Obey the dynasty, disobey the dynasty…” he cartwheeled over two thrusting spears.

The fox-masked woman darted across the road and rendered the mage unconscious with a dozen Qi blocking strikes.

When she turned to help the fat drunk, she found him seated between two unconscious bull-horse-men.

“There, there, you’ve been ill-used. I will speak to the man in charge. Uncle will make him take care of you young ones as you deserve,” he patted their helmed heads.

“Help Efren!” Bei said.

“Ah, see how she thinks of others first,” the fat man grinned. “Yes, yes, the disarmed young man, where is it… ah,” he hurried over, belly wobbling, to pick up Efren’s dismembered arm. “That’s a tough wound.”

The fox-masked woman approached Efren.

“Young man,” she snapped her fingers in his face, but he kept staring at his elbow. “Listen to me. I was told that you aren’t in immediate danger. Your fancy armor is stopping the bleeding. So… er… hang in there,” she patted his shoulder awkwardly.

“Danilo!” Bei called out.

“I’m fine!” he climbed out of the storefront the bull-horse-man had kicked him into. “I think,” he grimaced.

“Ha!” the fat man clapped him on the back. “I saw the blow from all the way up there,” he pointed to the sky, “that was at least some cracked ribs, fancy armor or not. You’re a tough one!”

A second hearty back slap put tears into Danilo’s eyes.

The fox-masked woman ripped the net to free Bei.

“Come, we are to take you to your warehouse.”

“Wait. I remember you two,” Bei said. “That night on the rooftops. You helped me escape.”

“Ohoho,” the fat man grinned. “I told you, Fox. How could she forget her martial… er… brother… yes, brother will do, I’m not yet aged enough to be an uncle or anything else older,” he muttered. “Yes! How could she forget her martial elder brother!” he beamed. She noticed that his eyes were glazed over and unfocused even as he focused on her. “It was I, the Tsingtao Wanderer that set you on your path as one of the fastest rising dragons in the martial world!” he posed, almost majestic for a moment until he belched.

“I— I can smell it through the filters,” Danilo gagged.

“Best to stand upwind of him.” Twice Clever Fox sighed.

“I never thanked you,” Bei bowed. “Without the two of you I would’ve never escaped with my brother. I would’ve never had the opportunity to begin my martial path.”

“Yes!” Tsingtao Wanderer pumped his fist. “That’ll show Lyrical Songbird, who’s a better…” he muttered.

“Denounce him and I will testify in your support,” Twice Clever Fox said.

Bei nodded.

Then she noticed the sleeping bull-horse-men.

The four out of the five that lived.

The only one dead was by her hand.

She did her best to ignore his body as she approached the mage.

She pulled the heavy helm off to reveal an eerie blending of human and buffalo, like the ones that always fought lions in the recordings that Old Mr. Wang loved to watch.

It reminded their old village head of his childhood.

The details of which he refused to elaborate upon even when pestered with her best techniques.

The bull-horse-man looked young.

Her skin was dark gray and covered with a fine layer of dark hair or was it fur?

Bei didn’t know the difference.

Her actual hair was done in a tight braid to keep it out of the way and to fit it underneath her helm.

Two pointed horns angled forward. They thickened at the base into hard cap that covered most of her forehead.

“Yes, they look too close to what I see in the mirror every few days for comfort,” Tsingtao Wanderer sighed. “More bad karma to balance.”

“Ignorance is no excuse,” Twice Clever Fox agreed.

Bei knew and yet she had placed herself into a position where she took a life.

The fact that it was in battle didn’t lighten the pit in her stomach.

“Are we supposed to leave them here?” Danilo said.

“I was assured that they will be transported to safety. The method wasn’t shared,” Twice Clever Fox said.

“Wait! Grandmother!” Bei remembered.

“Survived the artillery strike. She is making her way to the command tower to provide support to your teammates at that location,” Twice Clever Fox said.

“Okay. Then please take us to the warehouse,” Bei bowed again. “We are in your care.”

Her Qi reserves were almost nonexistent.

Not that she desired to continue fighting.

“You must be carried,” Twice Clever Fox said.

Tsingtao Wanderer had already scooped up Efren and Danilo like children despite the latter’s protests.

“I understand that the sky is your element, but you lack Qi at this moment,” Twice Clever Fox said. “How do you wish to be carried?”

Bei’s brows raised almost to her hairline.

The fox-masked cultivator sighed.

“Princess, fireman or piggyback?”

“The last one… please.”

She took one last look at the young bull-horse-man she had killed.

Such immaturity, such regret.

For the both of them.

Grandmother saw grandfathers leading the stampede.

She recognized it in the way they moved with the accumulated weight of many years.

She felt the same in her own bones despite the new lease her cultivator class had given her.

Over Level 30 in six short years.

Her abortive rise before the callous sect had crippled her for her failure to fall in line had meant that she wasn’t starting from nothing like young Bei and Bai, her grandchildren, nor the many other children of all ages that had sought out her tutelage.

Not her sect.

Never a sect.

She focused on teaching the basics.

How to begin on their paths.

The rest was up to them.

Holding the spell artillery barrage long enough for the children to escape the building had cost her several broken fingers and many cracked bones. Muscles all over her body were strained, some pulled. Her Qi had been depleted, but she had more than enough to do what Cal had asked.

The bull-horse-men thundered toward yet another heavily armed barricade.

“We are the thunder on the plain, no barrier shall slow our strides, nothing will stop our hooves, Last Charge of the People!” the old grandfather bellowed.

The thick armor on his front was shaped like a spiked plow.

Over a ton of ancient muscle and steel broke through fifty feet of tightly packed vehicles and other debris like it was soft snow.

He dragged the rest of his hundred strong herd in the wake of his Skill.

They galloped at speeds well above the posted limits on the old signs lining the street.

Gun and spellfire fell on them from the rooftops.

They answered back with fire of their own.

Scattered amongst the herd were bull-horse-men with strange contraptions on their broad backs.

Like vehicle mounted weaponry.

They aimed with a glove connected to the weapon by a thick cable.

A simple point was all it took to send a spray of solid metal darts the size of a fat man’s sausage-like finger.

Magic shields failed quickly, which was followed by a fine spray of red mist as the hapless soldiers met their ends.

One burst cleared an entire rooftop as the herd passed below.

Grandmother struggled to dodge those as she ran and leapt alongside, racing them to their destination.

Other cultivators swooped down from their race to target the young bull-horse-men wielding the devastating weapons.

Success was mixed as they did everything they could to protect the weapon bearers.

Thundering Rhinoceros charged out of a side alley.

He cut across the herd, breaking bones and crushing organs with a body hardened beyond mundane steel.

The huge cultivator was lost in the forest of giants for a moment, but she saw him run straight into an alley on the other side.

Wise.

A rabbit amongst the cows may find itself trampled.

Lu, the Sanguine Crow, appeared on the old grandfather’s back in a burst of black feathers, but before he could strike a young one running behind swung a massive glaive.

He struck nothing but feathers.

The cultivator had escaped to try again.

Three bright, burning lights descended with frightening speed.

Fledgling phoenixes.

Half sisters, though they looked close enough to be triplets.

They had seen four less summers than her Bei.

Too young to be sent to war.

Not that she could cast darts.

Bei and her other charges were too young for war as well and yet she had insisted on allowing them to experience its horrors.

Such parental neglect, such shame.

The girl phoenixes burned a swathe through the thundering herd.

Magic shields held for a moment until shattering.

Casters stumbled and fell from the backlash giving soldiers, cultivators, mercenaries and opportunistic fighters of every stripe to leap out of their hiding spots in the adjacent buildings.

They fell on the bull-horse-men like they were those painted dogs on Mr. Wang’s old shows.

Vicious things. Unlike the noble tiger they didn’t kill their prey before eating.

The old grandfathers endured the phoenix flames with Skills and plain toughness, the unwillingness to die because death meant failure and failure meant death.

A great cry suddenly rent the sky.

One of the phoenixes fell in three pieces.

One arm.

One leg.

And the rest of her.

She had melted the metal darts in their aura, but that didn’t stop the molten metal from cutting through her limbs.

The other two abandoned their strafing attacks to grab their sister before she fell to the ground and fly her to safety.

Their flames cut across the sky like a scar chased by a stream of glinting darts.

The herd roared in triumph, while the dynasty army cried in despair.

The command tower loomed.

The herd was diminished, but showed no signs of slowing.

They chanted in one deep booming voice.

“We are the thunder on the plain, no barrier shall slow our strides, nothing will stop our hooves!”

“… Last Charge of the People!” the old grandfather bellowed.

His armor was rent and charred.

His gray skin and fur was damp with blood.

A gash across his helm had darkened one eye forever.

None of it mattered.

He wouldn’t let death claim him until he reached his destination.

Grandmother felt a kinship.

No matter that they weren’t the same species.

It was a universal thing.

Or at least it should’ve been.

An old one’s wish to leave a better world for the young ones.

Only the selfish thought otherwise.

She moved faster.

The true enemy was the selfish sort.

They thought nothing of bleeding the old and young if it gave them an opening.

“Hurry up you craven dogs!” she snapped at the other cultivators dragging their feet.

Only a handful were truly willing to risk their lives, while among that small number, many were waiting for the perfect moment to strike in a way that maximized the glory they received.

“Are you going to wait for them to reach your general?”

“Old cow, be silent or be told,” a finely-robed young master scoffed.

“Wisdom does call for silence. Your presence amongst our august personages is a generous boon,” a finely-robed old master said sagely.

Most of them could’ve left her behind with ease, yet to mock her they kept to her pace.

“The empress will know that you delayed your hand out of arrogance,” she said.

Mocking laughter trailed in her wake.

Kayla’s heart thumped in her chest.

It was the thundering hooves thing.

Live video allowed them to see the old bull-horse-man activate the Skill and ever since then she could hear their hooves pounding the asphalt, could feel it inside her like the bass at a concert.

“You guys feel it too, right?” she ventured.

The general didn’t even look at her.

A few officers regarded her like a dog’s mess on their carpet.

While the polite ones merely returned their gaze to the large TV screen on the wall.

Yup.

The thunder herd thing was getting closer.

Barricades meant nothing.

They went through them like wet paper.

The pops of gun fire got closer.

The explosions were rattling the high rise windows now.

Kayla moved farther away from it, she gripped her dragon poleaxe tighter, then remembered that relaxation before battle was important. She didn’t want to burn her muscles out too early by being tense.

Deep breathing helped her loosen up.

“You breathe like my mother’s poor dogs,” the Phoenix Princess scoffed.

“Oh, are they, like, pugs?”

“Yes… sad things. Can’t even breathe properly. Whoever bred them like that deserves the thousand punishments.”

“Oh, is that, like, in your cultural myths?”

“No. My sisters and I created them. Auntie tabled implementation for further discussion,” she shrugged.

“Oh… that’s too bad? Um… sorry about your sister.”

The dismay had been palpable when they had watched the young girl lose an arm and a leg.

Fortunately, being a phoenix meant cauterization was nearly instantaneous.

She was already being flown back to the capital under a heavy escort of half-sisters.

Which meant that there was a sudden dearth of phoenixes at the battle front.

There was one of the oldest ones standing next to Kayla, who still didn’t know her name.

The empress’ brother was somewhere around with his remaining daughters fighting at other locations.

As for the empress and her two children?

Not even the command staff knew where they were.

“Cowardly dogs.”

The phoenix princess didn’t bother to lower her voice.

Kayla sucked in a gasp of air.

For their part the command staff remained intent on their tasks.

“That herd thunder thing is running out of fire. They’re down to half and they still have two blocks to go. I don’t get what they’re trying to accomplish anyways. We have thousands of soldiers and fighters waiting for them. Our best too.”

Kayla’s scowl was partially-hidden by her dragonscale helm.

“It’s… inspirational… I mean. They’re doomed, but they aren’t slowing down or hesitating.”

The phoenix princess snorted.

“Glorious sacrifice is just a fancy term to avoid using the real one. It’s suicide.. They killed themselves for nothing. It’s only fit for stupid dramas, not real life.”

Kayla remained silent.

Would that the princess had done so as well.

They watched the miles-long charge end at the last barricade a block away from the command tower.

The dynasty’s forces had pinned the remaining herd in a kill box.

Squeeze triggers.

Cast spells.

End the last gasp of the alien invaders.

That was until a massive burst of light erupted from the middle of the herd.

Unseen amidst the chaos had been a long box. Like a giant-sized sarcophagus.

“Danger sense!”

Multiple shouts went up in the command room.

Soldier rushed in from the hall to pull the general and the phoenix princess.

“They hid within. The seals blinded our sight. Divine light is revealed!” the old oracle lady was going crazy grasping for anyone that would listen. “He is ancient. He is Sesre’s ideal. He is destruction. War of winter or winter’s war. Of the end in devastation for all sides.”

“Um…” Kayla raised a hand. “Shouldn’t we be listening to her.”

It was too late.

The windows exploded.

Men and women screamed as the shards cut them deeply.

In a display of a great injustice the oracle took a shard through the throat.

A giant of a man stood amidst the rubble.

He loomed, casting a shadow that seemed to engulf them all.

The boardroom had high ceilings and the golden plume of an unknown creature’s hair fixed to the top of his golden helm nearly brushed it.

His golden breastplate was molded in the form a muscular man’s torso.

Golden vambraces covered all the way to his elbows.

His bare biceps bulged.

Shoulders like small boulders rippled.

They were broad.

The kind that’d force him to turn sideways to go through the door.

The white skirt that fell to just above his knees was covered by strips of leather-like fabric covered with golden plates and studs.

Golden greaves built into boots protected his lower legs.

He bristled with weaponry.

One hand held a large round shield in gold with a monstrous, snarling face, whose eyes seemed to be alive. Writhing serpents framed the face. Some extended past the rim like spikes.

He had to hold his spear at an angle to avoid scraping the ceiling.

A sheathed sword at his hip.

A mace on the other side.

Arrow feathers peeked over one shoulder.

An axe over the other.

Long knives sheathed on the outside of both greaves.

The small compartments in his belt hid even more.

Golden eyes gazed across the boardroom.

He planted his spear into the floor to remove his helm.

Perfection.

Kayla couldn’t help it.

The guy was the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen and though he was about to kill them all horribly her heart fluttered.

“I am Sesre’s Will.”

His voice was rich and deep, like thick honey.

She wondered what his lips tasted like.

“Shut up, you!” she hissed at herself. “Stop it! Don’t be thirsty, don’t be thirsty!”

“I have come for two things. Give them to me and you will be unharmed… for now.”

“What are you waiting for, shoot him!” the general barked like one of those tiny, yapping dogs.

Spells and bullets splashed against a glowing magic shield.

The eidolon remained posed like a statue.

“Give me your general. Give me your princess. The former will die. The latter will be my hostage. The rest may live until the next time.”

So said he donned his helmet once more.

Their attacks didn’t break his magic shield.

He did.

Moving in a blur he charged through the thick, heavy table in the center of the boardroom, splintering it as if it was made out of balsa wood.

He speared two men and in one smooth motion flicked the spear to shoot their bodies into the mass of bodyguards and officers between him and the general.

“Overcharge All Attacks!” the general shrieked.

Kayla had already been deafened. Her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. So, she didn’t notice much difference.

Magazines emptied just before gun barrels grew red and split.

Spells swelled with power beyond what the mages could safely generate and control under their normal limits.

The eidolon ducked behind his golden shield.

Bullets sparked off his greaves, knocking him backward like he had been rammed by a car.

A fireball broke the floor beneath his boots.

Splashes of acid ate what little remained.

He burst forward, taking two strides on disintegrating wood.

“Instantaneous Fire! Exploding Bullets!”

Every gun, even those with empty magazines and broken barrels, fired a burst.

Individually, they would be as insects against the windshield.

Together, they knocked the eidolon into the gaping hole.

“Switch to secondary weapons! Reload! Mages recover what mana you can! You!” the general rounded on the old guy with a white beard. “You just stood there. The empress will hear of it.”

The old white beard guy stood impassively.

Kayla figured he was one of those cultivators and from what she understood they kinda did what they wanted unless the empress or the prince specifically told them to do something. Naturally, their power levels had an inverse relationship to the quality of their obedience.

The general’s head bodyguard tried to pull the older man through the door.

“Release me! We’re just as likely to run into him on our way down than not. Better to defend from a position of strength. Besides, the foe was not as great as that foreigner warned. Go!” he pointed imperiously at the hole. “Find out if I killed him. If he lives, take him prisoner. He will make a fine gift upon my triumphant return to the Imperial City.”

Is this old guy for real? Kayla thought. Hello, hello? Is this radio telepathy thing working? Am I doing it right?

Silence.

It’s me, Kayla, at the command post. Ninety-something floor. Got an eidolon situation. The big war one. Send help, over?

Hearing nothing in reply she raised her hand the dropped it when she noticed it shaking.

“Um…” she struggled for words. “We should leave cause of… structural issues?” she shrugged.

It didn’t take a genius to figured out that a building wasn’t designed to take the kind of damage that had been dished out in just a handful of seconds.

“Children are to remain silent,” one of the general’s officers said.

“Yes, this is no longer a safe area,” the general said. “I generously give you leave to depart at once, foreign observer.”

“‘Kay.”

Kayla went to the door at a fast walk.

Dynasty soldiers dropped flashbangs into the hole before dropping down.

Sadly, she had just reached the door when the screaming started.