Kinyat the ember-lycan saw the irritating little man duck away, and charged. Kinyat was furious. She was always furious, but these last few days had been especially trying for the intelligent demon. It had taken years for Kinyat and her kin to raise up an army on this world. Years of resisting the urge to kill and devour her brethren, years of ignoring the light, all for the chance of conquering this strange, colorful, and soft world.

  But things kept going wrong. The little enemies at the gates had been so strong, and the pack of ember-lycans’ powers hadn’t grown since leaving Potentia. There was nothing to eat, and the lesser monsters they found and turned were barely enough to keep from losing themselves to the hunger.

  The pack fought as well as they could, making the most of the fodder they’d collected. But Kinyat had known they were losing. The undead had always found strength in numbers, and this world was nothing but mountains and small passes. Everywhere they turned their numbers were reduced to nothing, and over and over they found themselves ravaged by the little warriors and their complicated powers.

  Finally Kinyat had made the only intelligent choice left, and devoured her weakest brother. The taste of Potentia again after so long was like a sweet agony, and she used the rush of power it brought to smash a hole through the hated wall that blocked their passage. She’d taken as many of their fodder as she could, and raced away. She hoped to start her own kingdom, with her kin left as a distraction.

  Then came this bridge, this stone box, and more of the hated little warriors. Finally she’d had no choice but to attack herself, knowing that she was running out of time. What she’d never expected though, was to find another shard of Potentia here, waiting for her. She had seen the light, and now nothing would stop her from devouring the quick, foolish little man.

  She charged into the room into which he’d fled, tasting the power in the air. She didn’t know how a piece of Potentia could exist inside a warrior of this world, but it would be hers. She would feed.

  Kinyat looked around in confusion. Where was he? The walls were lined with little men, but they weren’t real; they had no smell, no power. They wore the steel skins she recognized, but they were fakes. Slowly she crawled into the room, the ceiling even lower here, forcing her to all fours. She prowled slowly around, suspicious and frustrated.

  Kinyat roared in pain as something lanced into her hind leg. She recognized the terrible agony of Ruin, and spun in fury, her flames erupting across her body.

  Nothing was there.

  She turned again, fanning her flames to make herself a more dangerous target, then met an impossible sight. Three of the men in steel were charging at her, weapons raised. She reacted by instinct, slashing at them with her razor sharp claws, only for searing pain to rake through her as the men vanished. Kinyat howled.

  She knew what this was. She knew this power. She hadn’t faced the tricksters from her world in longer than she could remember, but she knew what their bite felt like. When three more knights charged at her, she ignored them, knowing that they lacked the power to harm her at this rank, not unless she attacked first.

  Yet somehow, again pain exploded behind her, and she reacted wildly, lashing out at everything in sight. Once more she felt her own strength turned back at her, and Kinyat roared as her rage reached new heights. But it was so hard to think when the meal was so close, and complex plans eluded her.

  All she knew was destruction.

  Kinyat flailed and swung at every knight she saw, her flames growing as she did so. The false men exploded into rubble and dust, but she didn’t stop. Ruin continued to assault her every few moments, pushing her further and further from reason, and so she kept destroying.

  She was hearing strange sounds now, and the stone around her seemed to shift. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening, and couldn’t stop herself as she was assaulted by more and more pain. She slashed wildly, burned brighter, and ignored the impact of things falling on her from above. Then finally she saw him.

  No more false images, no more tricks or warriors in steel skin, just a small man in a white coat. He bared his teeth at her, and she did the same, her flames nearly out of control. His hand whipped out then, throwing small objects above her. Then he did something even stranger. He bent at the waist, then straightened before backing away, and disappearing into a rift.

  He runs! After all this her prey simply turns and retreats! Unacceptable! She would chase him to the ends of this world! She would–

  Kinyat looked up, the sounds she didn’t recognize were growing louder, and the stone around her shifted and cracked. She saw then what the man had thrown: three tiny glowing pieces of steel.

  What are those?

  ***

  The explosions weren’t large, but they were enough. Not knowing how bad the destruction would be, Ethan had retreated outside of the keep, and now watched the show from atop the nearby ramparts. Cara had been right, the crumbled third story of the building, as well as the heavy roof were just waiting to collapse. Those statues, built into the stone columns of the room, had been all that was keeping the countless tons of stone from collapsing.

  The demon had taken care of that, destroying them in its rage. Ethan’s daggers had finished the job, and now he watched as the center of the keep seemed to cave in on itself. Dust erupted in every direction as the stone collapsed through the second floor ceiling, then the floor itself, gaining more weight each time. Ethan even heard the main floor follow, and shook his head in wonder.

  He had just enough time to think: I guess that thing is in the basement, before he was surprised by a final, unexpected crash. “What the hell was that?” he said aloud. For a moment he was torn between going to his allies, or checking on the demon’s fate, but then he felt it. The light.

  It was still there, which meant there was still power to be gained–the demon lived. Deevee flew forward as he called rifts to take him back inside the ruined keep. He could barely see through the cloud of accumulated dust, but went on anyway, knowing he likely wouldn’t get an opportunity like this again.

  He arrived on the main level and ran forward, finding the hole in the ground with his hands and feet more than his eyes. Curious, he slipped his vision into the Astral, and smiled at how well it worked. There was no dust cloud here, though the blurriness of everything made combat a poor prospect.

  Still, he could see well enough, and jumped down the hole, finding himself on the lower level he’d explored with Selina and Tomo. Moving further forward, he discovered that he’d been right when he thought there was another level below this one. Upon spotting the dimly glowing form of the demon, he became a Trick of the Light, then jumped down one last time.

  He looked around just long enough to ensure there was only a single threat waiting for him, then moved slowly to examine the immense werewolf. The beast was broken, there was no doubt of that. The limbs that weren’t covered in stone were shattered and bent, and its entire body was a wreck. Still, he approached cautiously, and the nearly intact mouth snapped at the air when he drew close.

  The head was barely exposed, but Ethan wasted no time, the light still calling to him. [Knife in the Dark], combined with Last Resort, slashed through the demon’s neck, and the massive wolf-like head fell free. He wouldn’t risk Assassinating a target, as Ruin would likely destroy the body, and possibly take his prize with it.

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  Ethan grinned as he felt his victory, then smiled all the wider when he felt Revan calling to him. The thick-shouldered panther appeared a moment later, and quickly moved to the body, sensing a great power it could use. As the Familiar absorbed that power the light faded, and Ethan felt himself calming, the touch of Potentia fading. His clear mind immediately went to his team.

  “Valanor, Sav! The Dust rank monster is down. Are the rest of you alright?”

  There was a long pause, and Ethan felt dread creeping up his spine as he waited. Finally Savilar’s voice came in, staticy and hard to hear.

  “We live,” he said. “But the undead have gone mad! We’ve only taken down a few of the big ones, and now the rest are throwing themselves at us!”

  “Can we hold out?” Ethan asked, knowing the answer.

  “Not long enough,” was the quiet, resigned reply.

  Ethan cursed. Looking back he saw Revan still at work, so he hastily began looking around this previously unknown floor. At this point he’d take anything that could help them. He saw that he was in a circular chamber, just like above, although there was a massive doorway on one side, where there was a blank wall above.

  He checked there first, racing past the dead demon to push against the large wooden door. It barely moved, but turned out to be broken enough that he could slide through. It led to a long, rectangular chamber, with shelves lining the walls. They were uniformly empty, and Ethan cursed as he jogged quickly through to confirm, then right back out again.

  There were no long halls on this floor, but there were open paths leading to a larger square, which surrounded the circular chamber. Sunlight was slowly lighting the area as the dust cleared, and Ethan switched back to his normal vision as he continued to search.

  The first thing he noticed was the stone, which was a very deep green, and completely covered in images that had been scraped off. Why was this all so familiar? He knew he should remember this, but had to focus on their current situation.

  The next thing he noticed was more of what Tomo had seen above: the ancient stone was cracking, and looked ready to fall apart. An idea was forming, and he had to quickly orient himself to figure out where Cath Bridge was in relation to the room. He was heading there when he felt a surge of power, signaling Revan’s return to his soul.

  Ethan decided he’d read the skill description later, but he felt hope blossoming as he was granted an intuitive understanding of what the new ability could do. “Whoa,” he said, his voice echoing in the dark chamber.

  He continued forward then, finally finding the location he needed. He was right below where the bridge’s supports were placed. Savilar had assured him the ground would have been magically stabilized and nearly indestructible, but the Rift Hunter didn’t know that it was apparently built on top of an ancient, crumbling ruin. Ethan was about to race to the surface when Valanor’s voice came through, strained as he was obviously mid-battle.

  “Ethan! The undead have gone berserk!”

  “Savilar told me, don’t worry I’m coming back,” Ethan assured him.

  “You don’t understand! They only go berserk if the true undead controlling them is dead! That has to be the one you killed.”

  “Right, that makes sense,” Ethan said, remembering the warning.

  “Ethan, undead don’t die easy!” Valanor shouted back. “Many rise again, you must be careful!”

  Ethan’s eyes widened as he raced back to the center of the room, where he found stone slowly sliding off what had definitely been a dead monster only moments before. What rose was not the same, however. The bloody, mangled body of the lank werewolf was now inflating before Ethan’s eyes, into some kind of enormous abomination.

  It was still vaguely shaped like the monster it had been, standing on two fleshy stumps that had been legs, with similar protuberances where arms had been. Its body, though, was round, and expanding further by the moment. The fur had fallen away, leaving behind pasty flesh, stretched and veiny. It kept growing until it was at least as wide as it was tall, with a lump that might have been a head easily twelve feet up.

  The abomination, as Ethan thought of it, took its first shaky step toward him. How it knew where he was without visible eyes was the least of his concerns, and he started circling the room, his mind racing. The undead monstrosity followed him slowly, but as yet didn’t seem particularly threatening.

  He thought about their situation as he went around the room. He knew his team couldn’t hold out much longer, let alone for another full day, and if the undead got past the bridge they would spread out in every direction. Ethan already had the bones of an idea from seeing the cracked stone below the bridge, but with his new ability, he thought he might just have the whole damn thing.

  “Valanor, Sav!” he called through his rune. “I might be able to get us out of this. When I give the word, I need you to retreat to the other side of the fortress. Can you do that?”

  There was a long pause, each second causing fear to rise up inside Ethan as he considered the possibility he was already too late. Finally his rune crackled in his ear. It was so distorted he couldn’t even tell which man answered.”

  “We go on your signal!” the voice answered.

  Are they showing me that much trust, or that much desperation? Ethan wondered as he drew his weapons. Revan appeared at his side, his claws already glowing. The Guardian knew the plan, and seemed eager. “Let’s go, my friend,” Ethan whispered, then charged at the abomination.

  It was immediately apparent how this mass of flesh meant to fight, as it simply dropped its considerable weight directly toward him. He and Revan leapt to either side, leaving the undead to further crack the stone floor.

  Ethan grinned. In a proper horde, this monster would be one more terrifying enemy. But down here, alone, and with two agile opponents…it was target practice.

  Blades and claws went to work, not attempting to do any kind of significant damage, but building up charge after charge of [Internal Combustion]. Ethan wasn’t sure how many he’d need, but understood that it was a case of more being better, and so slashed with all the speed and ferocity he possessed. Revan did likewise, and the abomination was already beginning to glow by the time it regained its feet.

  Ethan knew that time was limited; there was only so long that his team could survive, and so he lured the undead monster into the center of the room–making sure it was right beneath the open sky. He called Revan back as he shouted the spell, “Heaven’s judgment and earth’s burning tears, be joined forever in a symphony of destruction!”

  The orange bolt of Volcanic Lightning arced down from the open sky, crashing into the undead, and multiplying every charge of the fiery affliction. Thankfully the Dusk rank abomination proved its vitality was more than up for the task, and barely slowed after being struck. Ethan smiled at that, sensing he had the mana for one more bolt. He chanted the spell again, leaping away as the horrific monster got too close.

  Again lightning struck, and the enormous quantity of afflictions multiplied further. The undead was eerily silent through it all, but now glowed like a single, immense coal, so bright that it lit the entire chamber. The hard part finished, Ethan danced away from the lumbering creature, leading it toward the passage beneath the bridge.

  “Get out now!” Ethan called over his rune. “Go, go, go! You don’t have much time!”

  He received no answer, and could only hope that they heard his desperate words. He tried to focus on the job at hand, hurling daggers at the slow beast to keep its attention, and hopefully hurry it along. At the same time he mentally prepared himself, knowing he’d have a very small window to pull this off.

  Finally they reached the far corner of the underground chamber, looking even more run down when seen with the bright light of the glowing abomination. Ethan stood against the wall, glaring at the monster, and letting it get as close as it possibly could. The heat radiated off of it in waves, and despite its lack of a face, he sensed its joy in finally catching him.

  But as it let its massive, burning body fall forward, Ethan was simply gone. Both Deevees were already speeding ahead, understanding how little time they had. A rift took him to the first floor of the keep, then a second took him high above it, and a third even higher. Finally the moment came.

  Ethan ignored the sensation of falling as he focused on his connection to the undead, still smouldering underground. Mere seconds had passed, and it likely had barely begun to stand up. He could feel it. Could feel the pulsing of the latent energy building within the monster. Knowing time was running out, Ethan risked one moment to survey the scene beneath him.

  The other plateau was madness, with undead falling into the ravine from every direction as the ones behind them surged forward. The bridge was equally packed, with no sign of the barricades…or his team. Undead had pushed into the fort’s courtyard as well, and were pounding on the door that led to the outside, and freedom.

  And finally, there they were, his friends, safe on the other side of the door. Wisely, they were running. Ethan didn’t hesitate, calling upon his new spell.

  “The progenitor of all flame, and the herald of destruction. The untamed radiance, and the death rattle of stars. Heed my call…

  “Supernova.”