The column of beasts moved in surreal silence. No lowing. No tails swishing to drive off the insects crawling over their hides. No stumbling. No jostling.

  Just a steady, relentless march.

  Trees and buildings shuddered as the undead herd passed. Branches cracked and fell. The rumble of hooves, half-muffled by the mud, still echoed loud and clear.

  To Derek, it didn’t feel like a herd of animals. More like an armored convoy. He’d seen footage like that. Columns of tanks rolling through the night on faraway planets.

  He’d seen footage like this in war logs from distant worlds. He never thought he’d witness it himself.

  The thick branch Derek and Tunga had climbed groaned under their weight.

  Derek shifted slightly and glanced at the shaman. “Alright, jungle man. Got any bright ideas? Think we can spook them into changing course?”

  Tunga growled. “They already dead. What fear can they have?”

  “Right...” Maybe it was time to stop thinking of them as animals. They didn’t behave like animals and they sure as hell wouldn’t react like them.

  So what did they remind him of?

  “Insects.”

  Tunga blinked. “You scare them with bugs?”

  Derek shook his head. The guy was nuts. But they were out of time and out of options. He exhaled sharply. “Alright. Fire it is.”

  Tunga stared down at the silent mass and tilted his head. “From here, look like ant column.”

  Derek nodded. “Exactly. So, how do you make ants go around something instead of through it?”

  Tunga scratched his scruffy chin. “I burn ants if they go where they not supposed to.”

  “Well, we know they don’t feel pain. Even if we char them, they probably won’t stop.”

  “Instinct,” Tunga said.

  “What?”

  “Strongest thing in animals. Instinct.”

  Derek nodded. “Interesting. So you're saying those things might still be partially driven by instinct?”

  Tunga nodded three times, then opened his mouth. “I don’t know.”

  Derek frowned. “Then why were you nodding?”

  “I was thinking.”

  Derek sighed. "Okay, let's assume some instinct is still in there. How do we use it?"

  "Fire," Tunga replied.

  Derek rolled his eyes. "Any ideas that don’t involve fire?"

  The shaman growled. "Fear of fire is instinct of all beasts. We good at fire. Me more than you."

  Derek pressed his lips into a thin line. "You realize if we light a fire and they walk through it, we’re not just dealing with undead buffalo. We’re dealing with flaming undead buffalo."

  Tunga grinned.

  Derek stared. “You’re laughing at the idea of undead flaming buffalo?”

  Tunga shrugged. “Never seen that before.”

  Derek shook his head. The guy was nuts. But they were out of options, and time. He sighed. “Alright. Fire it is.”

  Tunga nodded.

  And grinned again.

  Markus, Alyra, and the pack of kids moved stealthily through the rain-flooded streets of Ebonshade.

  The temple's tall, narrow silhouette stood visible from anywhere in the village, which was mostly made of squat, modest homes.

  The rumble behind them swelled. In the distance, a couple of shacks crumbled inward, as if stomped flat by a thousand hooves.

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  Markus darted down the main road, massive hammer slung over his broad shoulder. Every few feet he glanced back to make sure the group was still together.

  Alyra ran behind him. The boy with the eye patch clung to her hand. They were nearly the same age, but the way he acted, you’d think he was much younger. Maybe it was the fear.

  At some point, his eye patch had slipped off. When she bent to pick it up, she noticed the eye underneath was perfectly intact.

  He had just shrugged, and they kept running. Even the kid with the supposedly broken arm was moving it without a problem now. Something wasn’t right. She’d take a closer look once they were safe inside the temple.

  A couple of people appeared from around a corner and blocked their path.

  Alyra opened her mouth to call for help, but shut it just as quickly. Parts of their bones were exposed. One was missing most of the skin on his face.

  Undead.

  Their hollow eyes fixed on the living and they charged.

  Markus planted his feet and grabbed the hammer with both hands. “Back off!” he roared.

  Alyra let go of the boy’s hand. “Stay here with the others. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

  The kid tried to protest, but the older boy pulled him away.

  She stepped up beside Markus, fists raised just like her instructor had taught her. Tight, high, ready.

  Markus gave her a stern look. “This isn’t your fight, girl. Get back where it’s safe.”

  Her heart pounded in her skull, louder than the rumble behind them. She wanted to listen. Part of her did. But they couldn’t afford that. “You’re outnumbered. I’m helping.”

  Markus opened his mouth, probably to yell, but the nearest undead lunged at him. He didn’t have time to swing the hammer. The creature grabbed the handle and crashed into him.

  The second undead was closing in, also gunning for Markus.

  Alyra lunged, slamming into the creature’s side with everything she had.

  It barely stumbled and kept going like she wasn’t even there.

  Markus roared and heaved the first one off with both arms, the hammer slipping from his grip and thudding at his feet.

  Both went down in a tangle of limbs, bones snapping.

  Before they could recover, Markus grabbed the hammer again and brought it down on the head of the one trying to stand.

  Its skull exploded into a red mist. The limbs still twitched, but they had no direction, no purpose.

  Lightning split the sky. Thunder cracked.

  The second undead leapt.

  Markus raised a boot and kicked it back, sending it tumbling through the mud and sludge. When it rose again, the hammer was waiting.

  It lunged. Markus slammed the hammer down, driving it into the ground with a sickening, wet crunch.

  The thing still twitched. Markus planted a boot on its back and raised the hammer. “I’m sorry, Roland.”

  The hammer fell.

  Alyra closed her eyes.

  A final, wet thud.

  She opened them.

  Markus’s kind face was now splattered with blood, mud, and... other things she didn’t want to name. In the flicker of lightning and the hammering rain, he could’ve passed for a demon.

  But she knew better. Markus was a good man. He just wanted to help… her, and the others.

  “Let’s go,” he panted. “We’re almost there. The temple’s close.”

  “Tunga, are you sure this is gonna work?” Derek asked.

  The shaman nodded.

  Derek stared at the waterlogged road. More stream than street. “Look, I know your grasp of physics is... interpretive. But you do know water puts out fire, right?”

  Tunga gave him a flat look. “Magic fire burns when you decide it burns. Water can’t stop it unless you believe it can.”

  Derek blinked. So that was the trick. Why Tunga could hurl flames without burning the entire jungle. Just… think the right thoughts?

  Yeah. Not exactly how NOVA’s systems worked.

  “Well, I believe it can,” Derek said.

  “Then stop believing that.”

  Derek frowned. “Not all of us are as good at not thinking as you religious types.”

  Tunga growled. “Enough talk. No time. I start now.” He turned, crouched in the muck, and began chanting under his breath.

  Derek recognized the chant. The same one he’d heard the day he landed in this godforsaken world. And he had a pretty good idea what was coming next. He looked up. The dark mass was closing in. Seconds away. If they didn’t stop it, no one would make it.

  “Derek?” Vanda’s voice in his ear.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  His heart hammered. He’d risked his life before, but this time, it wasn’t just his life on the line.

  He nodded. “We don’t have a choice.”

  A breath.

  A flicker of light on his HUD.

  “Activate NOVA Ascendant protocol.”

  Alyra watched nervously as Markus leaned around the corner of a house, scanning the street ahead.

  This was the final stretch before the temple. Just one wide, open space. No walls, no cover. If everything went right, they’d reach the temple and barricade themselves inside.

  Whatever was waiting in there… they’d deal with it.

  They didn’t have a choice.

  The herd of undead beasts was closing in, and every other building had already been overrun.

  Running into the jungle? At night? In the middle of a downpour, with undead everywhere? Not a chance.

  This was it.

  Markus furrowed his brow, squinting into the rain.

  Alyra and the kids huddled behind him, barely breathing.

  She leaned in, her voice a whisper. “Is something wrong?”

  Markus didn’t answer right away. He stared a moment longer, looking more confused than alarmed.

  “I don’t know. There’s a man in strange black armor standing in the middle of the square. And some jungle tribesman, too. I can’t—”

  “Derek!” Alyra shouted, bolting forward.

  Markus grabbed her shoulder with a calloused hand. “Hey! You trying to get us spotted? Keep your voice down.”

  She slipped free and leaned out to see for herself.

  Tunga was kneeling in the mud, swaying back and forth.

  Derek, encased in his armor, stood just ahead, facing the horde.

  The creatures were marching straight toward them.

  If they didn’t move, they’d be crushed.

  What are they doing?

  “You know them?” Markus asked.

  Alyra smiled. “Yeah. The one in armor is the Cashnar! That’s Derek.”

  The kids gasped, crowding in beside her, eager to see the Messiah in action.

  Markus narrowed his eyes. “You sure it’s him?”

  Alyra nodded, still smiling.

  “Then what the hell are they doing out there? Don’t they see the horde’s about to crush them?”

  “I don’t know. But I trust Derek. He’s got a plan. I’m sure of it.”

  Markus held her gaze a moment, then nodded. “Alright. If you believe in him, I believe in him. Let’s get to the temple. Safe either way.”

  Without another word, he broke into a run, and the kids followed close behind.

  Alyra kept glancing sideways at Derek, trying to figure out what he was doing. But he just stood there, still, waiting.

  Suddenly, Markus let out an “oof”, like something had slammed into him.

  Alyra spun around.

  He was on the ground, rubbing his forehead. His hammer lay in the mud beside him.

  She stopped in her tracks, the kids bumping into her back. “What happened? Did you trip?”

  Markus groaned and picked up the hammer, rising slowly. “I ran into something.” He waved a hand forward, groping at the empty air like a blind man.

  The temple loomed just ahead. Only a few more meters and they’d be inside.

  Behind them, the undead beasts were now in full view. Splashes of hooves, milky eyes, massive horns. One by one, buildings crumbled under their weight like they were made of straw.

  And still, Derek and Tunga stood in their path, unmoving.

  “Hurry!” Alyra shouted. “They’re coming!”

  With a faint hum, a barrier of green light shimmered into view in front of Markus.

  He pressed a hand against it.

  A series of concentric circles of energy rippled outward from the point where the blacksmith had touched it. Like rings in a pond after a stone is thrown. “This. This is what I hit.”

  “A spell?” Alyra asked.

  “I think so.” Markus swept his hand left and right. The barrier followed, seamless and unbroken. He scratched his neck. “Looks like this barrier surrounds the whole temple.”

  The youngest boy whimpered. “What? Why?”

  Markus shook his head. “I... I don’t know. There’s never been a barrier like this around the temple.”

  He placed both hands on it and started to push.

  The muscles on his back bulged, his face turned red. He grunted with effort.

  Concentric rings of energy multiplied and glowed brighter and brighter, rippling out from his hands.

  Alyra held her breath, watching him strain with everything he had.

  With arms like those, he could probably move two carts full of stone.

  But the green energy wall didn’t budge.

  Markus stopped and turned toward her, gasping. “Nothing. I’m sorry, kid. It’s like trying to move a mountain.”

  Alyra nodded, heart pounding.

  They all turned to face the horde of beasts barreling down on them. Hooves pounded the earth like war drums. Mud flew. Horns gleamed in the rain.

  Derek and Tunga were still there. Calm, unmoving, as if the coming storm didn’t matter.

  “All we can do now is have faith,” Markus whispered.

  He knelt down, facing the two lone figures standing between them and the undead, and clasped his hands in prayer.

  Alyra dropped to her knees beside him and did the same.

  One by one, the others followed. A dozen trembling hands folded in silent hope.

  “May Orbisar protect us,” Markus murmured.

  “May Orbisar protect us,” the others echoed.

  Suddenly, sparks filled the sky, like candles in a vast, invisible chandelier hanging above them.

  Alyra held her breath. Was she witnessing a miracle?

  And then the sky erupted.