Unbound

Thangle rushed up the ladder in the rain, fast enough that the entire thing wobbled precariously. He weighed little, but the Gnome was frantic; the people in the camp were dying by the dozen, engulfed in white fire that the defenders were not stopping. He couldn't—he wouldn't—let it continue and after guiding the Untempered into the fortified warehouses, he rushed to the wall. He was an Illusionist, but he was an Augmenter first and foremost. He couldn't kill swathes of enemies, but he could support the defenders.

He just couldn't do it from the ground.

Thangle gritted his teeth, muscling down his fear. Cool, violet Mana flowed in and out of his channels, circulating as if ready for battle, spurred by the unpredictable, folding geometry of his spinning core. A sudden crash echoed through the earth, making the ladder jump beneath him. Thangle lost grip, and was flung into the air.

"AHH!"

A hand nearly the size of his face caught him, and Thangle looked up at the bristling mustache of Trendle. "Aye, don't kill yourself Thangle," he said, rough but kindly. He hauled the tiny Gnome up onto the wall as the ladder fell to the cobbles below.

"I assure you, I was not planning on it," Thangle managed, catching his breath. The screams were so much louder atop the wall.

"Good. Don't want to rob them of the chance," Trendle rumbled. Beyond the battlements, entirely too close, monsters filled the street. White-furred monkeys screamed and raged at them, driven onward by the hulking and distant form of some sort of steel golem. Hundreds of the Ghostfire Simians were funneling down the three interconnecting streets, and only the barriers and debris they'd built up and installed on the roads had slowed them down. That and the enchantments on their Fiend-built wall were the only reason they were all still alive.

More of that spectral fire flew up at the battlements, and Thangle felt his guts clench. A hue and cry rose, many of the Tin Ranks shouting out in unison. Sigils shone a vivid blue-white beneath their feet, and a series of transparent shields emerged from the wall. The shields extended up and over the combatants, blocking many of the fireballs, but they were patchwork at best. Thangle watched in horror as a number slipped through and detonated.

Screams tore across the wall as bodies were incinerated and the white-furred monkeys made huge, bounding leaps up and onto the sparking shields. Their own fire limned their bodies, but their eyes were black and soulless, without fear or pain. Thangle saw it all as if he were detached from his own body, unable to think, unable to act.

He saw Heva, the Hobgoblin grandmother wielding her fiery thread in frantic, defensive loops. He saw the Goblin, Merk standing next to her, furiously scribing lime-green sigils into the air. Cade and Stellis were there too, swinging their huge weapons, pushing back a few of the Ghostfire Simians. But not enough. More were coming, they were flooding through the streets despite their chokepoint. The camp couldn't hold.

*KASHAAAA*

Arrows imbued with green-gold life Mana exploded above the battlements, raining shards of imbued wood down on the charging line of monsters. Simians reared back in pain, their spectral flames no protection against whatever Skill had attacked them.

"Rally!" the red-beared Karp screamed. The sound swept across the wall like an alarm, fueled by his Mana and likely Stamina. Thangle felt his Mind abruptly realigned with his Body, just in time to see a fading notification.

Status Condition: Crises of Faith removed!

Avet's blackened teeth! Thangle fumed. "You don't touch my head, monsters!" He screamed, and his Mana twisted through the folded geometries within his core. He lifted his small hands and thrust them forward. "Forged Calm!"

Purple vapor poured from his hands, spilling out over the edge of the battlements and out into the fight. Thangle leveraged his Willpower and Intelligence, pushing more Mana than usual into the working. Within a forty foot radius, he felt target after target fall under his influence, their primal snarls fading to indifferent slumps. The rain hissed in the relative quiet, sizzling against the flames.

"Good man!" Trendle cried out. "Fire at will!"

Thangle's concentration was barely broken by the shots that rang out, Sparkbolts and Ice Arrows as well as physical projectiles that rained onto the vicious beasts. Melee fighters like Cade and Stellis carved the defenseless monkeys apart, aiming for exposed necks and eyes, anything that wasn't protected by their thick pelt and fiery magic. Apprentice Tier weapons proved their mettle, as the beasts died by the score, each one a small ping on his notifications list, a tiny bit of experience that trickled into his core with each assisted kill.

No more than thirty seconds later, Thangle fell gasping to the ground as he lost the Will to hold it.

"That's good enough. Thank ye," said a voice nearby, and Thangle looked up to see the Dwarven trainer move past thim. Trendle smiled through his huge mustache and put his hands out along the wall's sigils.

"Second Wind!"

A rush of yellow energy surged along the battlements and those defending it. Thangle even felt his own meager reserves of Stamina refresh.

"Ah thank ye too, Trendle," Rory said with a grin. "I'll put it to good use."

"I'm sure you will, sir," Trendle replied flexing his wide, rounded shoulders. "I—"

"Blind gods, what is that?" Rory asked, in such concern that Thangle couldn't help but look up. He was short, even for a Gnome, but it was hard to miss the sight of Ghostfire Simians being launched in the air by a figure.

"I can see them! It's the Hand! Cal is with them!" Trendle shouted in joy, but Thangle only felt a terrible sorrow clench at him.

Trapped in one of the side streets is the Hand, along with several bedraggled people Thangle recognizes as friends and leaders. He spotted Evie, Vess, and that mage Atar all laid out on some floating bed, while the rest sent Skills careening around themselves.

"They're trapped," Rory growled, pointing. "They came up from the sewers and got cut off. We need to help!"

They're fighting a desperate battle, though they're strong. Thangle saw dozens of enemies falling before them, split apart or riven with lightning and shadow. But illusions taught him how to see true, and there was no hiding how worn they looked. As if every one of them had been sent through that damn Gauntlet with a blindfold on: wrung out of their last drop of Stamina and likely Mana too.

The Hand himself was a blur, but he took as many hits as he delivered. Thangle could see he was wearing out. Even a tiny stream can bore through a mountain, given enough time, and the Hand was a monolith ripe to fall.

Yet they were in no better position. The monsters, previously hurt by Thangle's control Skill, were now reassembling as more monkeys pushed down the avenues. And now giant armored insects joined the fray, ones that were nearly as tall as the wall itself. They'd only ever managed to push it up a score span, and they were in reach of the monsters' scythe-like claws.

Wretches, he recognized, feeling his hopes gutter out in his chest. All of them over level forty. We're doomed.

An almighty crash sounded, just beyond the obstructed roads. It was loud enough that it briefly drowned out the sound of fighting, distracting enough that everyone, monster included, seemed to pause and look...

Then a winged shape burst in a flash of white light, tackling into a distant, ice-blue figure and ripping them into the sky.

"It's the chimera!" someone shouted.

"The tenku!"

"...Fiend!"

"The Fiend!"

"The Fiend!"

A powerful cheer tore from the battlements as a forest of stone spikes impaled a fifty span swath of enemies, killing every single one instantly. Thangle couldn't help his own heart from racing in terror and hope.

Felix!

Felix dropped Stone Shaping and ignored the kill notifications. The monsters around him were nothing, not even the Reforged, tough as they were.

He only had eyes for the Arcid.

"You fool! You've come to your death!" Sphere bellowed, his arms and legs grasping at the ice-armored Reforged around him. "Kill the pathetic Challenger!"

Several of the Reforged charged at Felix, along with a slew of monkeys. Felix flared Unfettered Volition and his movements, already so smooth and clear, became greased lightning. There was no space between thought and action, no lag or latency. HIs Mind burned, and his Body was the flame. Momentum built within him and Felix was a train of inertia plowing through the Ghostfire Simians, his talons and sheer mass tearing through their weak bodies in showers of gore. Then the Reforged loomed ahead.

Sovereign of Flesh!

His form broke and reformed into sleek black scales traced by glowing cyan lines. He dropped falling into a slide down through the approaching Reforged's legs and simultaneously swiping both talons out. Resistance met his Essence fed claws, but the ice, metal and flesh parted before him like paper. The Reforged fell.

Felix popped back to his feet, barely slowed, Unfettered Volition raging. He met the charge of another ice-warrior, head on.

Upheaval Before You!

The Essence of Calamity raged through his core as Sovereign of Flesh flared, and Felix's hands exploded in size. His talons elongated and the bone spurs along the back of his hands speared outward, shearing through the Risi-turned-zombie-golem.

Sovereign of Flesh is level 53!

Two more dead.

More Ghostfire Simians tried to get in his way, but Felix activated his Mantle of the Long Night and the arctic blast of the Skill snuffed the fires from their fur. They fled before him, but did not live long enough to take more than a few steps. Felix charged through their flash frozen corpses, shattering those that brushed against his Body.

Mantle of the Long Night is level 41!

Mantle of the Long Night is level 42!

The Arcid drew itself up, just beyond its screen of Reforged bodyguards. "You-you cannot hope to win, Fiend! I—"

"Shut up!"

The Sphere looked in alarm at the Shadow Whip that suddenly latched on to its stubby arm. Yanking hard, Felix flew through the last thirty feet, his talons outstretched. The Sphere hurled itself away, rolling through its allies before crashing through a nearby building. Yet Felix's Shadow Whip was still lodged in its tucked arms, and he came along for the ride.

They smashed through buildings like a wrecking ball and Felix pulled himself ever closer, shrugging off masonry as he smashed side to side.

"You are worthless! I do not know how you survived, but it shall not be for long!" The Sphere screamed as it rolled, it's deep voice rattling within it. Felix slammed through wall after wall, pushing his feet against brick or stone slab and being hauled through them time after time. "I will break you!"

"Get in line!" Felix snarled, spotting what he needed. He kicked off a crumbling wall and swung himself to the side, holding tight to his Shadow Whip. His feet hit a steel beam lodged in the earth, and he braced, hauling as hard as he could on the line. The Sphere slowed as Felix's muscles bulged and vein's stood in violet relief along his biceps and shoulders.

"RUAAAAAAAAGH!" Felix screamed, and with a burst of manic Strength he pulled the Sphere to the side, sending the Arcid rolling like a wrecking ball through his horde. "Is this the best your Father can do? Huh?" Felix shouted, so angry and hurt that he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying. "You can't—!"

Felix's words died as he saw the encampment, it's walls—his walls—were being overrun by iridescent Wretches he had not thought to see again. An abrupt lurch and pivot by the Arcid had his Shadow Whip snap, and Felix was sent sprawling as his own Strength fought against him. He hit the rubble hard, sending bricks and debris scattering in a wave that killed a few Simians itself.

Sphere stood up, rolling from the blood-strewn remains of its horde. So many were dead in their battle, and the Reforged had been left behind in their mad dash. Only the Wretches were nearby, and all of them were focused on taking down the encampment before them. He could see it limping toward Felix, its gun-metal gray armor cracked and dented along its left side.

"You...pathetic worm," it hissed, and it was the sound a steam engine venting. "Do you have any idea...what the Father will do...to this insignificant town? This den of mortal failings?" The Sphere shoved it's massive hand into a pile of mangled corpses and lifted a jagged piece of corrugated metal. It hefted the hunk of material. "He plans to elevate it! Free you all from your short, inconsequential destinies! To seize the throat of this Continent and force it to submit to his majesty!"

Felix pushed out of the rubble, watching the Arcid draw closer but also unable to peel his Perception from the Wretches assaulting his camp. They met stiff resistance atop the wall, but their scythe-like blades were savage. Explosions of vibrant energy and plumes of rock dust filled the air as the inscribed wards groaned under the attacks.

"You should worship him as a new god, yet you all fight! Why?" The Sphere kept advancing, and its eye-fires were bright with a fanaticism he'd seen one too many times on the Continent. "You are all prey struggling under the providence of predators in fine robes and refined language. Lambs meant for slaughter! Why do you care what hand holds the blade?!"

The Arcid didn't wait for a response, instead rushing at Felix with it's jagged spear of iron upraised. Felix felt the connections around him blaze in sudden sympathy, but he ignored it and ran. His Body shattered the rubble still around him, and the rusted iron spear screamed through the air just inches from his back.

Shadow Whip!

Shadow Whip!

The shadow Mana snagged onto another beam and Felix hauled himself to first one side, then the other, dancing between the savage strikes of the Sphere's spear.

Wrack and Ruin!

Wrack and Ruin is level 43!

An oversized ball of green acid ate away ate the descending spear, devouring a chunk of its momentum as Felix punched the remaining iron out of the Arcid's astonished grip.

"What blade?" Felix asked, grabbing the Sphere's leg and letting his talons sink into its armor. The Arcid let out a wail of pain, too distracted to fight against the second punch Felix laid onto it's round gut. It hit like a gong, and the Sphere crashed into the earth.

"All of you talk the same way, zealots and gods and ancient hellbeasts. I'm sick of it." Felix let his core spin faster and faster, pushing at it as the stacked cores sparked against one another. He felt that the Essence within him had thinned slightly, and the pit at the center of it all ached. "People. Aren't. Prey!"

Each word was punctuated by another blow, unaltered by any Skill or technique. Simply rage and fear turned into violence. The Sphere's armor dented and cracked with each hit, until the sound of distressed metal was replaced by the solid thunks of an axe on wood as it's bulk collapsed.

"No, what—what are you? What ancient will animates you, creature?" The Sphere gasped and tried to escape Felix's grasp, but it was broken beyond remedy. It was only able to drag itself several feet at a time, too slow. "You aren't—Analyze makes no sense. You can't be..."

"I've found it doesn't much matter," Felix whispered, and a wave of inexorable hunger swelled inside of him. "I'm me, and always will be."

He drove his clawed fist down into the Arcid's chest, watching the bastard's eye-fires flare in pain and surprise.

"And I'm coming for your dad," he hissed. "Ravenous Tithe!"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!