Derek kept his eyes on the arc of micro-missiles soaring overhead.

  His body was tense, crouched, ready to move. The NOVA’s actuators were loaded and running hot, way past the safety threshold.

  Elias stood with his staff pointed straight at the abomination taking shape before him: a formless lump of rotting flesh and shattered bone, molded by invisible hands.

  Derek had no idea what the hell was about to crawl out of that mess, but one thing was clear.

  It was big.

  And he really didn’t want to be around when it woke up.

  Rain hammered the NOVA’s armor and the jungle alike, like a river dumping straight from the sky. The plants twisted and swayed in the wind, writhing like they were alive, held down only by their roots.

  Lightning cracked.

  Thunder roared.

  The swarm of missiles, glowing purple with magic, reached their peak in the sky and, for a heartbeat, they seemed to stop. Like tiny, luminous crystals suspended in midair. Frozen in time and space above the hellish scene below.

  Then they began to dive.

  Derek clenched his jaw. “Showtime.”

  “Systems ready,” said Vanda.

  Malformed stumps burst from the creature’s sides, twitching like they couldn’t decide what to become. A central bulge swelled. Maybe a head, maybe something worse.

  The HUD showed no level. No health bar. Nothing.

  Maybe it was more vulnerable like this. Or maybe this was the calm before the nightmare.

  “Impact in four seconds,” Vanda said. “Three. Two. One…”

  “Now!” Derek barked, slamming power into the legs.

  And the NOVA moved. Launched like a railgun slug, straight into the air.

  The missiles hit like thunderbolts, burying themselves deep in the mud with dull, unimpressive thuds.

  Elias looked up. Still expressionless. Still empty.

  The mass of flesh below him shuddered. Bubbled. Gurgled. Like it was about to scream.

  Derek didn’t care.

  He wasn’t giving it the chance.

  From the tiny holes left by the missiles, vertical jets of fire erupted, like volcanic vents bursting open.

  The NOVA was already high above, but the flames were spreading fast in every direction.

  All he could do was hope the Neutronsteel armor—and his new upgrades—could take it.

  Escaping at the very last second had been his only shot at making sure no one got away. If he’d pulled back sooner, Elias and the undead might have followed him, and they’d have been far from ground zero when the fire hit.

  The flames converged into a single infernal sphere, swallowing everything.

  The creature began to rise—unstable, malformed—like a child’s botched clay project brought horribly to life.

  Elias lifted his gaze from the abomination he was shaping with the power of the Life sphere and turned toward the approaching wall of fire.

  As it reached him, he tilted his head, more curious than afraid.

  Then the fire hit.

  Elias, the creature, the swarm of incoming undead, were gone. Swallowed whole in a heartbeat by the roaring inferno unleashed from the explosion.

  But the fire didn’t stop.

  It kept going. Devouring everything in its path. Trees, rocks, underbrush.

  Animals scattered in every direction.

  Flocks of birds erupted into the sky from treetops not yet claimed by the flames, their cries drowned by the thunderous roar of the blaze.

  The jungle screamed. Vines curled and blackened. Trunks split with echoing cracks as the sap inside them boiled. Ash swept into the air in thick, choking waves, turning daylight into a hellish dusk.

  Even the rain seemed to vanish, burned away before it could touch the ground.

  And still, the fire rolled forward, hungry and merciless.

  The NOVA crash-landed in the underbrush dozens of meters away. Branches whipped against Derek’s helmet. Vines and thorns tangled around the armor, slowing his descent toward the ground.

  His heart pounded against his ribs. It felt like the pulse of the machine itself.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The world was a blur of green and orange, water and fire flying everywhere.

  The NOVA’s stabilizers kicked in just in time, planting him on his feet. Before he even got his bearings, Derek was already sprinting through the trees.

  But he didn’t make it far.

  The wave of fire was still advancing, and it caught up to him.

  The blast hurled him forward, twice as fast as he could’ve run on his own. His feet left the ground.

  It felt like being strapped to the front of a speeding locomotive. A locomotive made of magical fire.

  The display flashed:

  ||FIRE DAMAGE – REAR SECTOR||

  ||Structural integrity: 77%||

  Derek gritted his teeth, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake. His vision blurred for a moment.

  The NOVA was shielding him from the heat and the impact. His fragile human body would’ve been incinerated in an instant without that protection. All he could do was hope the armor would hold.

  If he made it out of this, the Repair Bots were going to have a field day.

  The fire’s push wore off. His feet hit the ground again, and he kept running under his own power. Behind him, the fireball still raged. It wasn’t going out.

  That cursed fire, like Ithara had said, could last for hours.

  It fed on the magic of whatever it burned.

  Maybe it’d burn up Elias and his fancy orb too.

  Maybe.

  But this wasn’t the time to check. That explosion probably pinged half the continent. Sticking around would be suicide.

  And he still had to find the girls.

  He’d seen them for only a moment. Just long enough to know they were alive. He’d told them to run. They wouldn’t have survived the blast otherwise.

  “Vanda, track the girls!”

  “I’ve got their exit trajectory. Uploading to your display now. I don’t have a current fix on them.”

  A blue line appeared on the HUD in front of him.

  “Good. What about Isabelle and Tunga?” Derek panted.

  “No updates, Derek. I’m sorry.”

  He clenched his jaw. Focus on the line. Follow the line. Alyra needed him, and she was either at the end of that line or somewhere near it.

  Isabelle and Tunga had definitely made it out. Maybe they were already with the girls. Maybe they were looking for him.

  Maybe, just this once, things wouldn’t go to shit.

  Maybe the universe would stay the hell out of it.

  Alyra kept her guard up, bracing for yet another charge from Aurelia. The little undead girl didn’t feel fatigue, pain, or fear. She just kept attacking—again and again—and Alyra kept fighting her off.

  Every strike she’d learned at the academy, every move she could improvise on the fly, she used them all.

  But Aurelia’s broken little body was numb to pain. And her energy was endless. Every time she got knocked down, she came right back up, launching herself at Alyra in a frenzy. There was no thought left in her eyes. Only blind, bloodthirsty rage.

  She had become little more than a wild beast. At least that made it a little easier to hit her.

  The crypt door shook violently with each booming impact. Something massive was trying to break in. And that was their only escape route under siege.

  Without a miracle, she was going to die.

  Either at Aurelia’s hands, or whatever was about to smash through that door.

  Her limbs were heavy. Her lungs burned. And there was no way out.

  Another blow—stronger than the others—made the very walls of the crypt tremble. Several ornaments crashed to the floor.

  Alyra couldn’t help glancing toward the door, terrified. And that was a mistake.

  Aurelia was on her in a heartbeat.

  The undead girl slammed into her, knocking her off balance. Alyra fell backward, crashing onto the cold stone floor as they tumbled together.

  Cold, dirt-caked little hands clawed at her in a frenzy. The girl’s jaw snapped open and shut, again and again, trying to tear into Alyra’s flesh.

  She screamed. She screamed and screamed with everything she had.

  The dead girl’s body weighed almost nothing, but the force behind each blow felt like Tanya or worse. Alyra’s arms were beyond exhausted. She couldn’t hold her off much longer.

  The pounding on the door made the world tremble. Whatever was coming in would find her helpless, pinned to the floor. Sierelith had to be somewhere nearby, fighting her own battle, but Alyra couldn’t see her.

  All her attention was on the thing trying to kill her. Its icy bone fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her closer and closer to bite, to devour.

  There was nothing left of the little girl she once was. Only a soulless creature, shaped by the twisted magic of a broken sphere.

  If only she hadn’t hesitated. If only she had struck first, when they were still partly themselves.

  But she had faltered. And she had made Sierelith falter, too.

  Now they were both going to die because of her. Maybe that was fair. She was never going to be a Warden like Isabelle.

  With a crash, the heavy wooden door gave way and slammed to the floor like a falling tree, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt.

  The little undead stopped attacking for a moment, staring at the crypt entrance.

  Alyra barely got a glimpse. The doorway now open, was filled by… someone. A massive figure blocked the entire entrance.

  “Derek!” Alyra cried out.

  But the figure didn’t move.

  He held a massive hammer in one hand and some kind of shield.

  That was all she saw.

  Her heart sank. That wasn’t Derek. Definitely not Isabelle or Tunga, either.

  Probably just another monster come to tear her apart.

  Aurelia shrieked like an eagle diving for the kill and lunged again, stabbing with frenzied jabs of her tiny, bony fingers.

  Alyra tried to grab her by the wrists. Her strength was nearly gone. Soon, she’d have nothing left. Soon, she’d just give in.

  This was it.

  She closed her eyes.

  A knot tightened in her throat. Maybe Derek was right. Maybe there really was no god watching over them. Just the cold, indifferent universe.

  And it didn’t give a damn.

  Then, all at once, the weight crushing her chest vanished.

  Opened her eyes and blinked.

  Aurelia was gone.

  She looked around in confusion.

  The undead girl was now several meters away, crouched on all fours, snarling like a rabid little beast.

  A huge man stood between her and the creature, his back to Alyra.

  He was like the trunk of an ancient oak, thick with muscle. His skin was scorched, and he wore a work tunic tied at the waist.

  In front of him, the undead girl snarled.

  “Stay behind me, girl!” the man boomed. “I’ve got this now.”

  His rough, booming voice filled the crypt with something that had been sorely lacking: life.

  He’s a man. He’s alive… and is here to help!

  It was like her heart started beating again.

  Aurelia lunged at the man, but he blocked her with a heavy slab of metal. It didn’t even look like a proper shield… it was more like a tool. The hammer in his other hand looked more like a blacksmith’s than a warrior’s.

  He shoved the girl back and brought the hammer down.

  A sickening crunch echoed through the crypt as the undead girl’s bones shattered. Her tiny body twitched.

  The man didn’t hesitate. He struck again.

  And again.

  Until the thing was nothing more than a mangled, unmoving mess.

  Footsteps echoed from the stairwell leading to the lower level of the crypt.

  Sierelith appeared, face streaked, hair disheveled, skin pale as ash. She was panting and still clutching the small black-bladed knife.

  Something dripped from the blade onto the slate floor.

  Drip. Drip.

  She looked up at the figure in the doorway and froze. “Who are you?”

  The man turned. He wore heavy leather gloves with rough stitching. His hair was streaked with gray, his face smudged with soot, half-hidden beneath a thick, bristly beard.

  He hefted the giant hammer onto his shoulder like it weighed nothing. “Name’s Markus Drell,” he said. “The forge nearby? That’s mine.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  Alyra staggered to her feet and stepped beside Sierelith. “Are you okay?”

  The spy didn’t take her eyes off the man. “I’m fine. I… put the child back to sleep.” She flinched as the words left her mouth.

  Markus nodded. “Good. If you’ve already handled the other one, then well done. Now let’s get out of here. Follow me.”

  He took a couple steps toward the exit.

  “No,” Sierelith said flatly.

  Markus turned, brows furrowed. “What is it? Are you hurt? Need me to carry you?”

  She shook her head. “We don’t know who you are. We’ll wait here for our friends.”

  Alyra studied him. Sierelith had a point. Following a complete stranger wasn’t exactly the smartest move. But… he had just saved her life.

  Markus nodded toward the shattered door. “I had to break that down to get in. I’ll fix it later, once this is all over. But for now, this place is a trap. There’s no back exit. If the undead find you down here, you’re done. And…” He motioned to Aurelia’s mangled remains. “If you think it’s over just because they’re down, you’re wrong. They’ll be getting back up.”

  “Impossible,” Sierelith snapped. “You tore that thing apart. And the other one…” She swallowed. “She’s not getting up. I made sure of it.”

  Markus frowned. But his eyes weren’t angry. They were sad. “Look,” he said, voice gentle, almost fatherly. “Something really messed up is going on. I’m no expert, I’m just a blacksmith, but I think it’s got something to do with that green sphere that fell from the sky a few days back. Ever since then, things have been... off.”

  Sierelith narrowed her eyes. “What kind of things?”

  Markus sighed. “No time. Come with me to the forge before one of those things decides to check this place out. I’ve got defenses set up. They won’t break through easily.” He raised both hands. “But I’m not forcing anyone. I’m heading back now, I can’t leave the kids alone. If you want to come, you’re welcome.”

  Alyra looked into his eyes. His hands were massive, rough with calluses… but somehow kind.

  They reminded her a little of her father’s.

  And he’d just saved her.

  Sierelith chewed her lip, arms crossed tight over her chest.

  Markus didn’t wait. He turned and stepped out. His heavy work boots thudded against the ground, each step landing like a minor quake.

  Almost like Derek’s.

  “I’m going with him,” Alyra said.

  Sierelith’s jaw dropped. “Are you insane? You just met him!”

  “And I’m supposed to trust you? The one who kidnapped me and dragged me into this?”

  The mage pressed her lips into a tight line.

  Alyra pointed toward the door. “He just saved my life. I’ll take my chances with him.”

  She stepped outside without waiting for a response. Markus was just a few yards ahead, and she rushed to catch up.

  The rain kept pouring, making it hard to see, but maybe the same was true for the undead.

  Sierelith caught up and walked beside her. “I go where you go, girl. I’m sure the Cashnar will come to rescue you, and when he does, I want to be there to see it.”

  Unbelievable. That lunatic was still chasing her ridiculous mission. She was as stubborn as a Rock Sphere. “You already saw him save me once. Wasn’t that enough?”

  Sierelith shook her head. “That was nothing. Right now, powerful forces are at work. I think the real show is just getting started.”

  Alyra glanced back toward the explosion site. A thin column of black smoke still rose into the sky.

  What had that been? Were Derek, Isabelle, and Tunga… still okay?