The massive boomfrog swipes at buildings, crushing each one with a single attack. With each step, it destroys yet another building. They don’t stand a chance against it.

  “Make for the west gate!” Neil commands.

  Mirana casts some healing onto Lothran to get him back on his feet, and they all charge toward the west gate. They have only a third of the soldiers they started with, with many having injuries from the fight against the flesh abomination. With so many struggling, the group moves slower than they did before.

  The ground rumbles. Each step of the massive boomfrog sends shockwaves through the ground. And with each passing moment, they feel closer and closer. But they’re still fast enough, reaching the west gate in the nick of time.

  “GO! If you’re injured, go first,” Neil says.

  The most injured of the soldiers rush through the large gate. Compared to the north and south gates, the west gate was narrow, and only a handful could pass through at once. It’s slow going, especially with Neil’s command to have the injured go first.

  Blintsy sighs. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

  Wyn scowls. “Stop acting like you know everything that’s going to happen.” She turns to Psai. “Any ideas, buddy?”

  Psai shakes his head. “I predict that there is only a slight chance of escaping through this gate. I recommend finding an alternative path.”

  “What’re are the odds we get out of this?”

  “An excellent question,” Psai says, his words somber. “It is unlikely that anyone will get out of this.”

  “Lothran, you go next!” Neil says.

  Just as Lothran is about to enter the gate, a sound Wyn knows all too well reaches her ears. She turns around, dread settling in her belly. The Boomfrog sucks air into its massive gullet, pulling in the ashes and even small fragments of fallen buildings. The gullet churns with deadly potential, its belly glowing with a rainbow of colors as it prepares to attack.

  “GET DOWN!” Wyn shouts, pulling Lothran and Mirana behind a nearby building.

  Wyn can only watch as the boomfrog unleashes its deadly payload. A jet of invisible gas rockets through the air, distorting the light that passes through it on its way towards the west gate. Neil turns around, face falling. He won’t get out of the blast radius in time.

  The boomfrog lights the gases. The air explodes in a rainbow of flames, turning buildings to rubble and leaving the west gate in ruins. Their only escape, demolished in a single massive attack.

  Neil pats his armor, shocked to find he’s alive. Searching for an explanation for his survival, he spots Blintsy, and the arcane shield bubble he cast over the both of them.

  “Well, that’s not good,” Blintsy says with a sigh, walking casually with Neil to the cover Mirana, Wyn, and Lothran were able to hide behind.

  Neil looks around, seeing that now only three soldiers are left alive. Those who went through the west gate either made it out safely or were consumed by the fiery blast.

  “They’re all dead. Shit!” Neil says, panic growing.

  Blintsy rolls his eyes. “Oh please. They’re alive. The players are, anyways. They just wake up back in their beds. It’s not like the NPCs are real.”

  “You’re not being helpful,” Wyn complains.

  Blintsy shrugs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I told you it was a waste to head to the west gate. The north gate is your best chance of getting out of here.”

  “Neil, what do you think?” Wyn says.

  Neil shakes his head, eyeing the beast with hatred. “Blintsy might be right. But we’ll lose the last of my men if we try it. I’m not abandoning them to die to this fat toad.”

  Wyn takes stock of who they have left. All that’s left are Neil, Mirana, Lothran, Blintsy, herself, Psai, and a trio of soldiers who look ready to flee if given the opportunity.

  “Blintsy is right. We have to go north,” Mirana urges. “Either we die here accomplishing nothing, or we die trying to get to the gate.”

  Neil looks between the three remaining soldiers. One has blood streaming down his leg; another is clutching a crushed arm against his chest. The third is staring at the ruined west gate with hollow eyes. “You expect me to order them north?” he asks, voice tight. “Through the fighting? Past the crazy goblin necromancers? We don’t stand a chance against them.”

  “And standing here won’t help either!” Mirana says.

  She pokes her head out from what’s left of their cover, only to jerk her head back, narrowly avoiding a blast of necrotic energy.

  “They’re getting closer. We have to move.”

  Neil balls his hands into fists and punches the building. To his credit, he punches clean through the brick, leaving Wyn’s eye wide with shock.

  “Fine. If we die, I’ll kill your characters when the login cooldown ends.”

  Wyn smirks. “Fair enough.”

  The rumbling earth is close now, though it has slowed. Wyn pokes her head out on the far side of the building, searching for some way through. With a smirk, she waves everyone over. She’s found a path.

  “There’s a ladder exposed in the old bakery that will take us to the rooftops and help us get over the rubble. We can cross there if we’re fast enough.”

  Neil shakes his head. “We’ll be easy targets!”

  “And it’s the best shot we have,” Mirana says. “I don’t see any other way.”

  Glass shatters nearby, and dust falls from the building above them. Neil, not seeing any other options, nods in agreement.

  “Wyn, lead the way. It’s your idea.”

  They charge forward, leaping over a handful of corpses and rubble before climbing the ladder onto the rooftop. At this point, the Boomfrog Matriarch is less than 100 yards away, and easily spots them as they dash from rooftop to rooftop.

  It rears, almost throwing the necromancers from its back, and fires its payload toward them.

  Wyn does not think. She flickersteps.

  The world snaps sideways. Heat tears through the space she occupied a heartbeat earlier. She reappears at the edge of the roof, shoulder slamming into brick as the blast punches past. The explosion sends a wave of force. Tiles rip free and skid across the roof in wild arcs, a symphony of devastating destruction.

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  “MOVE!” Neil shouts.

  They scatter.

  The roof shudders beneath them as another blast soars past them, just missing. Mirana stumbles and windmills, nearly losing her footing. Lothran catches her by the collar and hauls her upright, jaw clenched. One of the soldiers doesn’t move fast enough, and barely has time to react before the blast strikes the roof at his feet.

  The roof gives way. He vanishes with a cut-off scream as fire and rubble swallow the space.

  “One down,” Blintsy says mildly. “Unfortunate.”

  Wyn spins on him. “Stop narrating.”

  Blintsy raises his hands in mock surrender. “Merely observing.”

  Wyn narrows her eyes at the troublesome man. “Next time, do something.”

  Not having time to argue further, Wyn pushes forward with the rest of the group.

  Rooftops blur together as they move. Each member of their group uses every movement ability at their disposal to move as fast as possible. Mirana buffs everyone’s speed, while Neil directs the party. Wyn charges forward on instinct, chaining flickersteps in short bursts. Despite the difficult situation, Wyn recognizes her skill with the ability growing.

  The thought is cut off but a deep rumble. Behind them, the matriarch croaks again. Wyn swears the frog is laughing at them, enjoying watching them struggle.

  The necromancers flare into action. Green sigils flare across the beast’s skin. Wyn watches the sickly green energy spread across the beast, leaving behind blackened veins of vile magic.

  “Blintsy,” she pants. “What’re they doing?”

  “Something, evidently.”

  “No shit. How about actually being helpful? I can’t do you a favor if I’m dead.”

  “True,” he says easily, hovering beside the panting group. “The beast’s masters are retaking control of their little pet. You should probably do something about it.”

  Wyn watches as the intelligence leaves the boomfrog’s eyes, falling under the direct control of its necromantic masters. It rears, its previously bombastic movements traded for unnatural precision.

  An idea strikes Wyn. If she can cast illusions and use her new arcane tension ability, she might be able to buy them enough time to get to the north gate and out of harm’s way.

  “Neil, give me some time. I have an idea.”

  “How exactly do I…” Neil starts to say before his words devolve into a groan. “Fine. This better be worth it.”

  Wyn slides down a ladder and into an alleyway. They’re getting closer to the north gate now, judging by the sound of skittering goblins, but thankfully this alley is empty. Wyn has no idea how long that’ll last, so she works as fast as she can.

  Wyn focuses on her spellweaving, willing her Improved Mage Bolt and Arcane Tension abilities to combine. She draws the sigils in her mind’s eye, focusing on how they interact in an attempt to create some sort of disruptive burst.

  Above her, stone rains down on her, forcing her to flickerstep out of the way of the rubble, and losing her concentration.

  “OFF THE ROOF!” Neil orders. “FOLLOW WYN!”

  Neil grabs the injured soldier with the crushed arm and hurls him to the ladder. Lothran and Mirana follow close behind.

  The last soldier hesitates.

  The matriarch strikes the roof at his feet, dooming the building to crumble. Stone fractures. The structure gives way beneath his feet. The soldier falls with it, arms flailing, mouth open in a silent cry as the building folds inward.

  “Wyn, whatever you're doing, it better work.” Lothran says, still exhausted from fighting the abomination earlier.

  Wyn nods. The pressure is on. She needs to make this work, or they will surely die. Wyn begins casting again, willing the disparate aspects of the spells to coalesce into something useful.

  “What the…” Mirana mutters, having never seen this sort of spellcasting before.

  “Ignore her, Wyn. Focus on stability. Draw the essentia into consistent lines as they combine.” Lothran says.

  Wyn nods, keeping her focus on her spellweaving. Passively, she notes that this is one hell of a time to rely on an untested theory as their best chance at success, but she sees no other option.

  As the spells begin to merge, the intersecting lines of essentia flicker in the dusty air. She focuses hard, carefully managing every interaction until the spells merge into one.

  Another blast above them. The spell threatens to fail, but Wyn grabs the essentia and wills it to keep going. She cries out, not in pain but in the pure effort of the task before her. Inventing a new spell on the spot is something even advanced spellweavers would struggle with, and Wyn is doing it on minimal training and instinct.

  Her efforts are rewarded when a soft chime echoes in her mind.

  Spellweaving Successful.

  Spell Created: Disruptive Bolt - Unique

  Description: A unique spell created by the Spellweaver Wyn Abulata. Temporarily silences the target, causing spells to be much more difficult to cast.

  Spell Components: Improved Mage Bolt and Arcane Tension

  “Got it!” Wyn calls out.

  Blintsy raises an eyebrow, examining the spell. “Hm. Passable.”

  Lothran pats Wyn on the shoulder, his electrified hair bouncing. But behind him, chaos approaches.

  The matriarch pushes into view at the far end of the alley, head scraping past chimneys. The necromancers sit tall on the beast’s back, outlined in green light. One of them points toward Neil, and the boomfrog begins to inhale.

  “WYN!” Mirana calls out, her anger curdling into deathly fear.

  Wyn feels it in her bones. This one will not miss. This spell has to work.

  With a silent prayer to whatever gods might exist in this world, she hurls her Disruptive Bolt at the boomfrog. It impacts, but does almost no damage.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

  The matriarch’s belly glows brighter than before. The air bends inward, dragging ash and loose stone toward her mouth.

  “No, please gods no.” The last soldier mutters

  Blintsy rolls his eyes. “Patience, darling, is quite the virtue.”

  The beast reels back; the necromancers cackle in victory on its back. It lurches forward, opening its gaping maw wide to hurl a final devastating blow against the escaping group.

  Nothing happens.

  The massive beast stares confused, not understanding why it failed. It roars in anger, only to find its voice has been silenced.

  “Oh, delightful. Well done!” Blintsy says, cheering like he’s watching some sort of sports match, seeming as though he doesn’t particularly care about the lives currently in danger.

  “Blintsy,” Wyn says, voice shaking. “That’s enough.”

  He does not answer. Wyn scoffs and prepares another Disruptive Bolt. The necromancers, however, are not fools, and begin casting their own spells. Their pet may be temporarily weakened, but they are free to cast their spells.

  Neil steps forward, greatsword lifting. “Get behind me.”

  Wyn laughs, sharp and strained. “Don’t be stupid. You won’t survive the blast.”

  The second weaving of Disruptive Bolt is far easier than the first. Wyn hurls it at the first necromancer, stopping his spell mid-cast. The goblin creature snarls, black spit dripping from its cursed mouth.

  The boomfrog croaks once again, and its massive frog face gleams with delight. The temporary silence effect is gone, and the boomfrog is back to its original strength.

  “Hmmm, perhaps I spoke too soon.” Blintsy says, twirling his long hair.

  Neil blocks an attack with his shield. The metal hisses, and he’s forced to throw it to the side. This is it. They’ve got nothing left; no defenses left, and a group of terrifying enemies ready to wipe them from existence.

  Wyn turns on Blintsy and grabs the front of his robes, yanking him close. “If this is all a game to you, then do something, dumbass. We’re about to die while you play your stupid games.”

  Blintsy raises an eyebrow, his playful expression fading for something more sinister. “Ah,” he says quietly. “Much better.”

  The boomfrog releases its blast, its massive throat rippling with rage as it pours every ounce of its fury into erasing these meddlesome players out of existence.

  White-hot flames flood Wyn’s vision, but the impact never arrives. Wyn looks up. Heat ripples feet from her face, but the accompanying blast never arrives.

  The blast hangs in the air. Fire curls in place, frozen mid-motion. Time itself is paused as Blintsy, smug as can be, holds up a single hand toward the explosion.

  The matriarch is locked mid-croak, throat distended, eyes filling with fear as it’s locked in time. The necromancers stand rigid, their faces locked in confusion, unable to move.

  “Sorry about that,” Blintsy says to the necromancers. “You had your fun, but now I get to have mine.”

  Neil stares. “What did you do?”

  Blintsy shrugs. “Borrowed a moment of their time.”

  Wyn gets to her feet, fury burning through the shock. “You could have done that earlier.”

  “Yes,” Blintsy says. “But nobody knows how to ask nicely for things around here.”

  She stares at him. “People died.”

  “Yes,” he says.

  The flatness of his words twists something in her chest.

  “So what now?” she demands.

  Blintsy glances at the frozen matriarch, then at the burning city. “Now we remove the immediate problem.”

  He lifts one hand and snaps his fingers.

  The matriarch vanishes. The necromancers vanish. The suspended blast vanishes. There was nothing, no evidence they had ever existed. The only evidence of their existence is the destruction in their wake.

  Neil exhales. “You killed it?”

  Blintsy smiles again, thinner this time. “Not quite.”

  “Then where is it?”

  “Elsewhere,” Blintsy says lightly. “Out of the way. For now.”

  Wyn folds her arms, shaking. “For now?”

  Blintsy’s smile widens. “Even I can borrow but a moment. Quickly now. We have a gate to catch. I can’t let you die now. Would be such a waste.”

  He turns and walks away, already bored, leaving Wyn staring after him.

  “Fuck me… What have I gotten myself into?” Wyn groans, following Blintsy toward the north gate at last.