Aeyona didn’t see it coming.

  Something massive barreled into her from behind, slamming her forward and sending her tumbling across the ruined street. The world spun. She hit the ground hard, scrambling to rise. Only to be knocked flat again as Lillyth flew into her like a thrown doll. The breath left her lungs in a harsh gasp.

  Dizzy but conscious, Aeyona blinked through blurred vision. Lillyth lay beside her, groaning but intact. Aeyona hauled herself upright and helped the girl to her feet.

  Before them, a battle raged. Louder, deadlier, and far more crowded than before.

  Three new figures stood between them and a hulking monstrosity, a towering undead half-orc with most of its ribcage missing. Its axe was the size of Aeyona’s torso, and its ruined grey skin peeled back in places to reveal scorched muscle and exposed bone. Somehow, even in death, it radiated fury.

  The abomination cleaved its axe through the air towards the new man in silver and blue armor. He raised his shield to try to preventing the blow. The impact hurled him backward a good ten feet, metal crashing against stone. He groaned, rolled, and was back on his feet in seconds, charging again with reckless resolve.

  The sleek panther darting around the undead’s legs struck fast and faded faster, carving new gashes into the rotting corpse. After each hit, she leapt clear of the flailing axe before diving back in.

  Further back, an elven man in dark robes raised both hands, conjuring sickly tendrils of magic. Shadows gathered around a glinting object in his palm. With practiced ease, he unleashed a barrage of violet-black beams into the monster’s back, tearing out flesh and splintering bone.

  That got its attention.

  The half-orc staggered, then let out a gurgled snarl. It swept the armored man and the panther aside with the flat of its axe, sending them tumbling like broken dolls. Then it turned on the elf.

  “A little help, anyone?” the mage called out, the nervous edge in his voice undercut by dry sarcasm.

  From behind a toppled cart, a shorter figure limped into view. Covered with only underwear and shackles. The dwarf looked like he'd crawled from a massacre. Covered in lacerations and smeared blood, he still managed a grin.

  He drew a blade, not a sword, but a small knife. Without hesitation he dragged it across his forearm. On his face was surprisingly a look of pleasure and joy, as he grinned a wild grin. Thick blood flowed freely, and Aeyona recoiled as he lifted his clenched fist skyward.

  The blood halted mid-drip.

  Then, with a flick of his fingers, it launched forward.

  Hardening into red-hot needles that pierced the undead’s side like a barrage of crossbow bolts.

  The dwarf cackled, spitting crude insults between each volley. His body was growing paler by the second. He either didn’t care, or was too far gone to notice.

  Aeyona had seen enough. She pulled herself together, focused. She focused on trying to conjure flames to engulf the threat. She imagined the way it licked at dry wood, the way it danced. Hungry, unpredictable, alive. Her palm grew hot, searing almost.

  Flames burst to life.

  Focusing the blaze into more of a ball in her palm. Swirling flames condensed, barely. She stepped forward, wound back her arm, and hurled it straight at the behemoth.

  —- —- —-

  Alkibiades had enough of the damn fires today. He had put his faith in the drow on getting them out of the mess. At least the portal didn’t outright kill him. He considered that the first plus of the day.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It wasn’t until he had been battered by a monster a few times he had the chance to realize they had not gone far, and the destruction had gone much further. He was beginning to have concerns about the survivors he had found so far.

  An elf with an outfit darker than his lavender skin, and magic darker than midnight.

  The dwarf scared him even more though, with his maniacal laughter between each wave of flames, and now blood, he threw.

  Al had not seen the new woman with dark hair since she was thrown into the blonde elf.

  So far his favorite was the giant cat.

  Everytime Al distracted the behemoth the savage panther was on his backside tearing him apart. But eventually, the orc learned. Mid-pounce, the beast snatched the cat from the air by the throat.

  Still gripping her limp form, it knelt down, slamming her into the ground with a sickening thud. Without letting go the monstrosity lifted her back up. Then tossed the panther full speed into the bloody dwarf. Crashing and tumbling them both twenty feet away, down a hill. They both disappeared from sight.

  Al roared and charged at the hulking dead. Refreshed rage in him. As he rushed in closer he lowered himself behind his shield and aimed his sword forward.

  With one last step he put all of his might into it. Al crashed into the monster with the full force of a battering ram. Pushing his sword up through its tattered grey chest. Slamming it to the hilt.

  The moment he tackled the beast and felt them both leave their feet, is when he first felt the heat. A blastwave of scorching fire barreled into the both of them as they hit the ground.

  Al let go of his sword. It was now cauterized inside the monster's flesh. He then rolled away from the torched zombie. The half-orc staggered, burning, smoke rising from the inside out.

  Al looked up in the direction of the fireball and saw the smaller elf, white as a sheet and eyes wide.

  “Come on lady…” he called to her as he decided to end this here.

  He lifted his hammer above the monster’s large skull, raised it above his own head, and brought it down with all of his might. It landed with a soft thud and the crunch of bones.

  About a foot too high.

  Al then saw the large broken fingers wrapped around his hefty mace. His eyes widened and he didn’t have time to curse before the hammer was shoved with unholy force. Slamming it right back into his face.

  In an instant, everything went dark for Alkibiades.

  —- —- —-

  Lillyth felt helpless. She watched her newfound allies struggle to survive the wrathful dead. Her heart sank as Marvel was tossed aside, like a toy. She took off after her as fast as she could, the rest of the world a blur except the safety of Marvel.

  In her blind dash she was tackled by something halfway there. As the two of them rolled a few feet, she opened her eyes on the ground to be met face to face with another corpse.

  The body belonged to a larger built human man, who once wore the fine armor of the templars. Half of it was damaged or missing by now. His cold dead eyes looked right through her.

  Terror filled her mind and she froze. But the remnant paid no mind. In fact he did not care about her for even a second.

  The fresh zombie clambered back to its feet and continued bull rushing towards the rest of the fight, leaving her alone and confused.

  “Marvel!” she gasped, swiftly getting back up and stumbling towards the little elf.

  She got to the hill they rolled down. There she found the new dwarf. Mildly confused, holding Marvel gently. She was no longer a ferocious feline, and was back to her small elven body, eyes closed.

  “Marvel!” she screamed again, dropping to her knees when she got to her. “Is she breathing?” Lillyth asked in a panic, quickly realizing the answer herself.

  “Aye, Aye, she’s gonna be fine. Gonna feel like shit for a while tho” the dwarf replied, much calmer, more focused, than she had seen him so far.

  “Oh, thank gods.” Lillyth gasped.

  “Name’s Horren,” he added, as if they’d just met at a tavern. “And I’m fine too, in case you were wonderin’. You can probably help her better than me.”

  He stood, brushing soot from his battered body. He wasn’t much taller than Lillyth even when she was kneeling. He scanned the ground, eyes sharp despite his wounds.

  “Ah-ha!” he chuckled as he walked over to pick up a small bloodied blade. He gave it a look over, and once he seemed pleased he limped towards the continuing fight.

  The corpse that ran into Lillyth was now a couple piles of flames, she missed who caused it but didn’t mind.

  There was almost nothing left of the Half orc, which seemed to only slow it down. Aeyona and the new dark elf stood distant from each other. They were taking turns blasting the crawling corpse with their own magics. Dark sickly shadows for the man, and various bright blue lights and red flames for the girl.

  Horren took a few more steps towards some piles of rubble. Once a house, now debris.

  Knife in hand, he ran it up his arm once more. Letting out more blood than Lillyth thought he could lose. Then he let it drip and fall among the bricks and rocks scattered around the ground.

  There was no more hysterics from him. No maniacal laughter or series of vulgar insults that had separated his assaults so far. Only calm anger in his eyes. Exhaustion quite visible over his scarred dwarven body.

  He let the blood pool on the stones around him, eyes darting, body trembling. After a few moments, he raised his arm. Aimed towards another zombie that had shambled this far from the city. The next stream of blood that fell from his arm never hit the ground.

  Instead it pierced through the air. Slicing into the corpse, knocking it to the ground, leaving it still. Returning his gaze back to the half orc, he raised his blood soaked fist slowly. A chunk of bricks behind him rose with it.

  Horren then punched the air towards it, and following suite the boulder of rubble launched through the air like a cannonball. Smashing the remains of the orc corpse into the ground. Scattering bone and brick around.

  Finally it laid still.

  Aeyona ran to where the new templar laid unconscious in the quenching flames. She began struggling to pull him closer to Lillyth, who was holding Marvel.

  The dark elf began walking past them towards the dwarf, with an almost excited look in his eyes. Stopping a few steps later. He let out a small sigh. Then he turned around and grabbed the templar by the arms to help Aeyona drag the man towards the rest of the survivors.

  Lillyth focused on trying to wake Marvel up, but so far she had very little success. The poor girl was alive, but very unconscious. Much like the templar.

  After a few moments the group had collected near what remained of a building.

  Burned. Bloodied. Alive.