Isaac saw Vythin sink to a knee and charged into Kalinor, knocking the mage prone. He pinned his wrist to the ground as the black dagger vanished. "What did you do!?" he yelled into the possessed Kalinor’s face.

  The voice that came back was unmistakable. Filled with rage, but a cool malice and venomous intent. "I took my revenge. This body? Borrowed. I’ve found the little god’s weakness. This mage...one of my sanctified! Vythin wants him so badly? Then he can deal with the mage as I found him as a child...helpless." The black shadows lifted from Kalinor’s eyes as he gasped. He opened his mouth but no words came out, and a panicked look came across his face as he went limp.

  Isaac looked over at Slate who was crouched next to Vythin. Flames erupted from his hands and Vythin grunted as his wounds were seared shut. "Slate! Get over here. She did something to him."

  Slate ran over and flashed red, holding his hand over Kalinor’s prone form. A look of sorrow crossed his face. "You can get off of him, Isaac." Isaac looked at him quizzically before slowly getting up. Kalinor just lay there, shallowly breathing with a panicked expression.

  "What did she do?" Vythin asked, staggering over and dropping to his knees next to the prone man.

  "I used a miracle when I first met him to look into his past. I think she raised him; imbued him with her power somehow...blessed him. She’s taken those blessings back...He is paralyzed…nearly fully so" Slate said.

  Vythin cupped Kalinor’s head in his lap as tears began flowing from Kalinor’s eyes, "What can we do? How do we fix this?"

  "I don’t know, let me think," Slate said.

  Isaac looked down at the two, seeing the heartbreak on Vythin’s face as he held this man close. Isaac recalled the several Seasons of his sorrow next to her tree, I’ve felt the same, my friend.

  He looked at Slate, "Come on man! Think! We’re gods, we can fix this somehow."

  "If she was able to fix his disabilities with her power, you should be able to do the same. Just like we blessed those constructs," Slate said.

  Vythin nodded and held a hand over Kalinor’s chest, the golden glow emanating and flowing over the prone body. It seeped into him...seconds passed, and a black smoke rose from his body, a small cry of pain gurgling from his throat. "It didn’t work!"

  Slate knelt down and passed a hand over Kalinor once more, his hand glowing red. "She cursed him. And she tied it to his soul. We can’t fix him like this...I don’t think anyone can."

  Isaac heard a rumbling noise. He stood and ran to one of the constructs, using its leg as a step to get a little more height. A line of dust approached on the horizon to the east.

  "We have company!"

  Slate cursed and ran over, climbing up onto another one of the Peacekeepers, "It’s Hanslow. Damn." He glanced over at Isaac, "Good thing we prepared for this."

  Isaac looked back at Vythin who was still with the disabled mage. He went over to him, shaking his shoulders, "Come on! Snap out of it. We can deal with Kalinor later. I need you here, right now. Big, scary dragon. Got it?"

  Vythin nodded slowly, picking up Kalinor gently, "Let me get him to Yvilli and she can tend to him. I’ll make haste." Vythin ran into the city.

  Isaac looked to some of the Peacekeepers, "Protocol: Close the gates." The two remaining gods moved into the city as the constructs closed the gates behind them. The two ascended to the top of the wall and saw thousands of people on horses, approaching the distorted space from the east.

  "I can’t risk the Titansteel Defender leaving the portal hub - for all we know Hanslow could have a force waiting to enter...not to mention Umbra may make a move through there," Slate said.

  "How do you plan on fighting?" Isaac asked.

  Slate smiled, "I wasn’t planning on fighting...well in this body. I’ll be hopping from Peacekeeper to Peacekeeper."

  Isaac frowned, "But Hanslow has a sword made of Divine Metal. Won’t he just obliterate you? That Titansteel construct was able to hold him off - but his weapon can cut through metal like butter."

  Slate tapped his forehead, "Knowledge is greater than strength of a sword arm. He may be a god of blood and war. But he is not a crafter like myself. Brains over brawn. I made a slight modification to the Peacekeepers that I didn’t tell you about." Slate pulled a vial of blue viscous liquid out of his pocket and held it in front of Isaac, "You’ll know what it is."

  Isaac took the vial and instantaneously knew what creature it came from - a dangerous, venomous creature who ruled the skies over Lestosk but roamed far and wide. A creature all hunters feared to encounter. "Wyvern venom? How’d you get it?"

  Slate chuckled, "It’s not the real thing. A bunch of chemicals I mixed together that copied the effects. Took some experimenting, but I got the blend correct weeks ago. All the Peacekeepers have their blades coated in it. And since it causes skin and muscles to melt…"

  Isaac nodded and manifested his bow, "His power over blood should be useless. Remind me to never be your enemy."

  Slate laughed and smiled, "My Passenger will take over while I’m gone. Can you give him something to shoot?" Isaac nodded and waved his hand; a small green flash appeared and handed him a crossbow and bolts. Slate took them and nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment as his body sagged for a split-second before he stood upright and grinned at Isaac. "Let’s cause some havoc." The voice was the same, but there was a manic edge to it just like in the forest clearing with the loggers.

  Isaac held up the vial, "May as well dip those bolts in this. Anything we can do to help. Remember - we are focusing on Hanslow."

  Slate’s body nodded and put on some thick gloves, dipping the bolts and laying them along the top of the wall before handing the vial back to Isaac.

  Isaac pulled back as an arrow of shimmering green appeared. He could see the line of horsemen clearly as they began to exit the distorted space. Hanslow was back a few rows - his massive sword marking him out from among the others. A battle cry could be heard as the charge advanced towards the constructs. Below, Isaac saw the mass of Peacekeepers form a shield wall, their weaponry sinking into their form and switching to a spear; a bristling wall of iron and death. Yet the charge continued onward. It’s then that Isaac was able to see it - the front-most horses were unnaturally red in hue and extremely well muscled - no armor at all. The men on those horses appeared to have no armor as well; their skin various shades of crimson. Their companions lagged behind the charge slightly.

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  Isaac loosed an arrow and watched it sail into one of the leading horses. The green bolt found its mark and the horse stumbled and fell...before exploding with a force and fury that caused other riders nearby to alter course to the side, a small shock wave pushing the surrounding dust out in a small cloud. Viscera rained down, and the remains of two skeletons, blown apart from the inside, lay on the battlefield.

  "Slate! Ranged weapons!" Isaac focused his shots on clusters of the leading chargers, causing them to explode as the first line of charging men wavered slightly. The constructs in the back of the formation surrounding the gate switched weaponry again; crossbows emerging and firing volleys that failed to find their mark. The bolts all bounced off of the horses and men. Damn, Hanslow somehow made them immune to mundane projectiles. Isaac channeled his heat and ran his hand along his bow. He pulled back the next shot and tilted his weapon horizontally, releasing the green shaft.

  The arrow split in mid-air into hundreds of duplicates; and with several pops and booms a third of the exploding infantry was wiped out...but the line reached the Peacekeepers. Several explosions went off and Isaac felt sick to his stomach, These are fanatics. Throwing their lives away. The frontline of Peacekeepers was devastated; smoking husks of metal, twisted into bulks of scrap. The constructs reformed a shield wall and the true battle began. Men charged into the line, their horses screaming in pain and death as the troops flung themselves off their mounts and into the center of the constructs; using massive two-handed swords to cleave large numbers of the defenders.

  Isaac looked for Hanslow but could not spot him amongst the melee. He fired arrow after arrow at every foe he could make out, manifesting his heat for another spread-shot as the final line of cavalry entered the fray. From his vantage point, the battle was going against them; the constructs being cut down and barely able to make a dent in the assaulting force - their iron weapons bouncing off of their assailant’s bodies. Hanslow must have put all of his heat over the past weeks into this, Isaac thought.

  A red glow manifested from one of the constructs near the gate. Slate’s body grabbed Isaac, "I’m back. Things aren’t going well down there."

  "I can’t find Hanslow either."

  Slate cursed, "We need Vythin. His claws could injure them. Where in The Void is he?"

  Isaac was going to reply when a hand appeared at the edge of the wall. Isaac reflexively stabbed at it with an arrow, but that didn’t stop the hulking form of Hanslow from climbing onto the crenellation. He was huffing and covered in small cuts, some parts of his flesh turning black - his eyes filled with a maniacal glee. "I found you!" He yelled as he swung his large sword at Slate.

  Isaac reactively channeled his heat and warped Slate down to the streets below, shouting, "Get Vythin! Now!"

  Slate began to run off as Hanslow turned on Isaac atop the wall, bringing the blade down towards him. Don’t get hit, don’t get hit. Isaac felt the heat welling up in him as the space in front of him distorted, the tip of the blade barely missing his shoulder and chest. Hanslow stepped forward and followed up with a series of large, heavy blows which Isaac deftly avoided; but each time he dodged he could feel his heat fading. I have to end this soon. Isaac dove under Hanslow’s legs and ran to the wall where the poisoned bolts lay in a row. He grabbed a handful of them and wheeled around as Hanslow charged, his sword-point leading the way. Isaac moved to his right and slid a hand along the flat of the blade, stabbing one of the bolts into Hanslow’s bicep as his momentum carried him by.

  Hanslow was quick, however, and Isaac was hit by an elbow that sent him tumbling off the wall. Weightlessness overtook him as he fell to the ground below, landing with a thud as the air was knocked out of his lungs, and he struggled to breathe. He felt several ribs break as pain lanced through him.

  He looked up and saw Hanslow descending the stairs, pulling the bolt out of his bicep as he switched the sword to his other hand. "You cannot beat a god of war. Even with your little tricks." He jumped and swung the blade down toward Isaac’s prone form; and Isaac rolled out of the way as the blade carved into the stone next to him. He rolled to his knees and threw two more bolts with perfect precision, one at the left leg, one at the right. Hanslow could only deflect one of the bolts, and where the other impacted the flesh turned black and started to rot. He roared and fell to a knee, dragging himself forward as he swung toward Isaac who was nearing the point of exhaustion. Isaac cried out in pain as the sword dug into flesh before being ripped away, a trail of yellowish liquid on the edge of the blade.

  ...Then came the roar. A terrifying, primal roar of rage and madness; a clarion call that caused Hanslow to stop his prone pursuit of Isaac. They both turned and saw a large gold dragon charging down the boulevard; Slate mounted on his back. Hanslow turned and with a growl swung his blade out. Isaac was tapped out of heat and pushing back unconsciousness as the blade carved into his leg, sinking deep into the bone. He yelped in pain and backed away as fast as he could. Hanslow laughed maniacally, "I may die, but I’m taking one of you with me!"

  Isaac tried to crawl faster, yet Hanslow was able to catch him. He felt a sharp pain and cried out as the sword pierced his other leg, pinning him to the ground.

  Hanslow crawled up to Isaac and put his forearm against Isaac’s neck. "I want to see you die," he said through gritted teeth. Isaac struggled and stabbed the remaining bolts into Hanslow’s neck and face, watching the skin blacken and start to slough off. And yet the god of war continued to push against Isaac’s neck.

  The world started to go white, and a sense of calm washed over Isaac. He saw the lush green woods of Kumawara, his father training him, his banishment…his whole life flashing by in an instant.

  Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. A loud whoosh went by as Hanslow howled in pain; his body flung off of Isaac and slammed into the wall.

  "You dare enter my city?! You hurt my friends?!" Vythin growled as he gripped Hanslow’s body in one of his claws, bringing him up to his head. "I want to see you die," Vythin said as he squeezed Hanslow. Isaac could hear the crunching bones from his position as the god of war went limp and Vythin tossed him to the side. He pushed open the gates and roared, charging out onto the battlefield.

  Slate slid off his back and closed the gates behind, running over to Isaac.

  "He did a number on you," Slate said as he yanked the greatsword out of Isaac and he cried out from the pain.

  Isaac grabbed Slate’s shirt, "I’m out of heat. I can’t...I..." He felt the familiar darkness start to wash over him. The roaring and screams of men coming faintly through the walls barely reaching his ears.

  Slate shook his head and reached into his pouch, pulling out a viscous green liquid in a vial, "I can at least get you walking again." He poured the liquid over Isaac’s wounds and the flesh knit itself together as the goop soaked into his body. Relief washed over Isaac as the pain diminished, his vision clearing.

  "...I think...I almost died."

  "I saw. You got me out of there or else I would have died too."

  Isaac chuckled weakly, "Good thing we planned for Hanslow’s attack, right?"

  Slate put an arm under Isaac and helped him to his feet, "Come on, let’s get to the wall and see how Vythin is doing."

  The two gods slowly hobbled their way up to the walls to see the battle shifting to a standstill. The soldiers were beginning to take casualties. Even with Vythin among them, ripping and tearing and biting, the battle was at a standstill.

  "Note to self; larger army next time," Slate said as he cracked his knuckles.

  Isaac leaned against the wall, "Next time? It doesn’t look like the battle is over yet."

  Slate smiled, "Oh, it will be..." Slate leaned over and shouted down to the constructs, "Protocol: Melt." The heads of all the constructs opened where a mouth would be and gouts of the blue synthetic wyvern venom washed across the battlefield. Men screamed, horses screamed, and both died. Vythin tore through the panicking and fleeing army with ease, as Slate gave another command, "Protocol: No Survivors." The constructs began to chase down the fleeing combatants, chopping into them over and over until they were hacked to bits. "Vythin gave them the ability to use a weapon that caused a spread pattern. I replaced the flames with more of the venom. Effective, but I wanted to wait until Hanslow was out of the picture in case he had a trick to counter it."

  Isaac smiled and felt exhaustion wash over him once more. He looked at Slate and was about to make a quip as unconsciousness took him.

  If you like my work, go check out my Fantasy + (soft) Sci-Fi LitRPG, Dark Matter Ascension! Book 1 is on Kindle Unlimited and Audible, and then you can keep reading here on Royal Road!