John latched onto the distraction like a man drowning in the ocean. He activated Flash Step before he even had the chance to really think about it, propelling himself straight towards the sound of Lily’s voice. He and Doug had been in the courtyard between the smaller buildings attached to the north side of the manor, but in no time he found himself on the south of the building, staring out across the gardens and into the fields beyond.

  From there, it wasn’t hard to spot what Lily had seen. No need for Eagle Eye. Or any other ocular ability, for that matter.

  There had to be a hundred of them, and not one of them was a blue. Greens and yellows abounded. No reds that John could see through his Soul Specs, but he spotted half a dozen or so oranges mixed in there.

  Strangely, oranges were likely the monster type John had the least experience with. He could only think of one he’d encountered, and he hadn’t even fought it—there had been an ogre-like thing that took part in the pursuit when he’d just met Lily, Jade, and Chester, when they’d been chased into the Underworld station. He couldn’t recall any others off the top of his head. He didn’t know what to expect from then, in terms of power level.

  The monsters themselves boasted little variety, flooding across the fields towards Micklefield Hall with single-minded intensity. Most of them were tentacle-y eldritch beasts propelling themselves along like land-based octopi, but there were a few black-furred werewolf monsters loping along on all fours.

  John glared in the vague direction where the black hole would appear in a few hours. Pulled some monsters from the nearest portal world, did you?

  He didn’t believe for a second that this was a ‘natural’ occurrence, partially because he wasn’t convinced anything that happened in this mad new state of the world was natural, at least in terms of how the monsters behaved. If monsters were beings of their own individual wills, they would have seen him escorting Watford survivors to this place and aggroed immediately, a few at a time. Bunching up in a large horde like this screamed interference, as if it hadn’t been loud enough already.

  But why? What are they going for, here? What’s the goal? Why now?

  It was always possible the system’s motivation was as simple as wanting to ensure the ‘resistance’ didn’t turtle up in this relatively defensible position. Get them moving so they’d face more trials and tribulations.

  But he couldn’t help wondering. The monsters had appeared at a convenient time to push him away from the decision regarding Claire. Did some ‘producer’ of these narratives want them to get back to the action?

  Or maybe, he thought grimly, there’s some sicko up there who wants to punish me for fucking up the thing they had going on in Watford.

  And John was hardly under the impression he was the centre of the universe. There were just under fifty other people here; what storylines could they be in the midst of that the system might want to kick into gear, or interrupt, or twist?

  The manor house behind him was starting to come to life with rallying shouts as others reacted to Lily’s warning. Lily herself was staring grimly out at the oncoming horde, her ornate crossbow held low, at the ready but not sighted. She wouldn’t take aim until she had to.

  John Flash Stepped to her side, and they exchanged a nod. “Sorry for ditching you earlier,” he murmured.

  -100 Aura

  John rolled his eyes behind his shades.

  Lily gave a shallow shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t begrudge you your guy talk.”

  He had to hold back a sigh. “I’ve got something I want your thoughts on after we’re done with this. Figure I should get as many opinions as I can.”

  “Sure thang,” Lily said with a small smile.

  John nodded to himself, then activated Dragon Wings. They erupted from his back and spread wide. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  The Dragon Wings beat hard against the air, and John felt himself surge upward with speed that still made his stomach flip even after days of using the ability. The wind tore at his clothes, whipped his hair back, and for just a moment the sheer exhilaration of flight managed to shove aside everything else.

  Then he crested about fifty metres above the manor and got a proper aerial view of what they were dealing with.

  Yeah, that's definitely not natural.

  The horde moved with too much cohesion, their purpose blatantly singular. A hundred-plus monsters flooding across the fields in loose formation, the tentacled monstrosities propelling themselves forward like they’d decided land was just another ocean to swim through, their movements disturbingly fluid despite the lack of water. The werewolf creatures loped alongside them on all fours, black fur rippling, occasionally breaking into sprints that carried them ahead before they slowed to match the pack's pace.

  All of them converging on Micklefield Hall like they'd received explicit marching orders.

  John hovered in place for a heartbeat, Dragon Wings spread wide, and considered his options. He could play it tactical, pick them off with ranged attacks, use his mobility to stay out of reach, methodically whittle down the horde until nothing remained.

  But his hands moved almost of their own accord, spreading wide to his sides in that angelic pose that felt simultaneously ridiculous and deeply right. The familiar sequence of movements came easily now, muscle memory ingrained after multiple uses. He lifted his hands above his head, palms facing upward, and bowed his head.

  The scythe fell into his waiting hands. Its blade was translucent, barely visible except when the hellish light caught it just right and made it shimmer like moonlight on water. The bone-white handle felt cool in his grip despite the burning sky, wrapped in ethereal cloth that drifted in winds only it could perceive. There was something ancient and patient about the weapon, like it had been waiting for him since time immemorial.

  John gripped the scythe with both hands and swept it in a wide horizontal arc.

  A visible wave of force erupted from the blade's path, a scythe-shaped distortion in reality itself that cut through the air with a sound like a distant choir singing a dirge. It expanded as it travelled, growing wider and faster, rushing toward the monster horde with inexorable momentum.

  The wave struck the leading edge of the horde and tore their souls from their bodies. They continued forward for a step or two on pure momentum, then collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. Green-souled tentacle beasts slumped mid-stride. Yellow-souled werewolves crumpled to the ground. The soul-stealing gale swept through them in a matter of seconds, claiming life after life.

  +80 Souls

  +65,000 Aura

  John felt the rush of both resources flood into him. The numbers imprinted themselves on his mind with a haptic buzz and scrolled across his vision simultaneously, and he was keenly aware of the eyes on him signified by that aura count.

  Undoubtedly, dozens of people were standing at windows back in Micklefield Hall, watching the display of power. Many of them would have seen what he could do already, but quite a few of them had previously only had his word to go on.

  Nothing says 'I'm not looking for attention' quite like wiping out a monster horde in one shot while hovering dramatically in the sky, he thought wryly.

  But at least it had been effective. Most of the horde had simply ceased to exist in any meaningful sense. Their bodies littered the field below.

  Most, but not all.

  The orange-souled monsters had survived, though they looked... diminished. Through his Soul Specs, John watched as their souls flickered and pulsed, the vibrant orange dulling to a sickly yellow. They staggered, disoriented, like they'd just taken a psychic sledgehammer to the brain. A handful of what had been yellow souls showed similar effects, their souls bleeding into green then blue as they struggled to recover their senses.

  It made sense in a grim sort of way. Reaper's Gale was a soul-stealing attack, but souls came in different strengths. Blues got obliterated. Greens stood no chance. Yellows barely held on, reduced to the weakest tier. Oranges managed to cling to diminished forms of themselves.

  Wonder what would happen if I hit a red with this, John thought idly. Definitely wouldn't kill it outright, but even knocking it down a peg would be huge. That could be useful information for later.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The surviving monsters recovered faster than he'd have liked. The newly-yellowed tentacle horrors shook off their disorientation first, writhing as they processed what had just happened to them. Then, with a coordination that spoke to either shared intelligence or external control, half a dozen of them launched themselves upward.

  They flew.

  Or swam, really. The tentacled monstrosities propelled themselves through the air like it was water, tentacles undulating in complex patterns that generated lift and thrust in ways that shouldn't have worked but clearly did. Some kind of magic weirdness, John figured.

  Briefly, he couldn’t help wondering what kind of portal world they’d come from. Maybe they'd spawned in an aquarium, or one of those fancy seafood restaurants where they kept the lobsters in tanks. Somewhere things with tentacles resided, for the fucked up mechanics of the portal world to draw on and grotesquely parody.

  Doesn't matter where they're from. Matters that they're coming up here.

  Six of them, closing fast, tentacles already extending toward him in what were probably going to be very unpleasant grasping attacks. John watched them approach and felt a familiar tension settle across his shoulders.

  On one hand, he could handle this quietly. Use Dragon Wings to stay mobile, pick them off with ranged attacks without being too flashy. It would get the job done without drawing more attention to their temporary base than necessary.

  On the other hand, he was still irritated.

  Irritated at the System for orchestrating this obvious narrative beat. Irritated at himself for having to fuck around with decisions like Claire when the whole damn world was ending. Irritated at being thrust into a quasi-leadership position he knew was going to be excruciating, and knowing that he really only had himself to blame for it. Irritated at having to perform for an audience of survivors who needed him to be strong but also approachable but also mysterious but also…

  Fuck it.

  John pointed at the lead tentacle creature with his right hand, fingers splayed wide. Then he clenched his fist.

  The sphere of incandescent light bloomed into existence directly in the centre of the ascending monsters, brighter than staring directly at the sun, so brilliant it overwhelmed even the burning sky's hellish crimson. John's Soul Specs automatically darkened to protect his eyes, but he still had to squint against the intensity.

  The expansion was instant and absolute. One moment there were six monsters swimming through the air toward him. The next moment there was only light, pure and terrible, erasing everything it touched with the finality of fundamental physics asserting itself.

  +20000 Aura

  When the sphere vanished with that familiar vacuum that pulled air inward with an audible whoomp, there was simply nothing left. No evidence that six yellow-souled monsters had ever existed at all.

  The cooldown timer started its sixty-second countdown at the back of his mind.

  One down. Time for two.

  The remaining monsters on the ground had recovered enough to realize what was happening. The werewolf creatures howled—though the sound was muted by distance—and several of the tentacle beasts started to angle themselves towards him.

  He raised his hands to either side of his body, feeling the motion resonate with the mana sphere in his core. Then he brought his hands together in a thunderous clap.

  The air itself rippled and distorted like heat haze, space folding inward on a targeted area. The monsters within that sphere didn't even have time to react before an impossibly strong gravitational force seized them.

  It was like watching tin cans crushed in a vice. Bodies folded inward, limbs twisted at angles that made John's stomach lurch despite his increasing immunity to squeamishness at this point. The monsters compressed into a sphere of organic debris, then detonated outward with a shockwave that rippled across the field, sending grass and dirt flying.

  The ground buckled and cracked as if struck by a meteorite, creating a massive crater where the monsters had been standing. The few surviving creatures near the edge of the blast were caught by the expanding wave of force and flung like ragdolls, tumbling across the field until they slammed into the ground or each other.

  +28,000 Aura

  John didn't pause to admire his work. Gravity Bomb had a ninety-second cooldown, and there were still stragglers scattered across the field. Not many, but enough to potentially cause problems if they reached the manor.

  Time to clean up.

  He tucked his wings and dove downward in a controlled descent that ate up the distance in seconds. As he approached the ground, he pulled up and levelled out, skimming across the field at maybe a few metres altitude.

  Then he sucked in a deep breath, feeling Biomancy enhance his lung capacity beyond human limits, and exhaled devastation. Draconic Inferno erupted from his mouth in a torrent of white-hot fire that made the burning sky's crimson light look pale by comparison. Tentacles shriveled and blackened. Fur ignited and turned to ash. The monsters didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to carbonised silhouettes that crumbled in the wind.

  John made a second pass to be thorough, incinerating any stragglers and leaving a field of fire in his wake. The grass itself had caught, creating a growing blaze that would probably burn itself out once it ran out of fuel, but for now it painted the landscape in orange and gold that actually looked kind of pretty against the endless red above.

  +12,000 Aura

  He pulled up and circled once, using Eagle Eye to scan for any remaining threats. Nothing. The field was clear save for scattered corpses and the spreading grass fire.

  Thirty seconds, John thought with satisfaction. From first attack to last mop-up, maybe thirty seconds total. Not bad.

  He dove down to assess if there were any reagents he could nab from the bodies. Most of them were too burned, but he managed to pick up a few Eldritch Oozes, which could be sacrificed for Enchanting.

  He turned back toward Micklefield Hall and found his team waiting outside the manor's front entrance. Lily stood front and centre, her ornate crossbow held loosely in one hand, a wry expression on her face as she eyed him. Doug flanked her to the left, arms crossed over his bare chest, somehow managing to look authoritative despite wearing nothing but swim shorts. Chester hovered to the right in his hockey armour, and Jade stood slightly behind them in her grey tracksuit.

  John beat his wings twice, gaining altitude briefly, then descended in what he hoped was a reasonably graceful landing. His boots hit the gravel driveway with barely a sound, Dragon Wings folding back against his shoulders before vanishing in an unsettling reverse-transformation.

  He looked up to find Lily studying him with that same wry expression.

  "What took you so long?" she asked, one eyebrow arched.

  John allowed himself a small shrug. "Decided to go easy on them."

  +10,500 Aura

  The notification flashed across his vision, and he had to fight to keep his expression neutral. He was pretty sure that was by far the most Aura he’d ever received for a simple quip. More people hearing it must have added a multiplier.

  He could feel their eyes on him now, assessing, judging, forming opinions and narratives. The powerful stranger who'd liberated Watford. The man who could wipe out monster hordes in half a minute. The cool guy who'd just casually implied that slaughtering a hundred monsters was going easy on them.

  At this point, his team knew him and his system enough to understand he was chatting utter shit. The observers wouldn’t, though.

  Is that a good thing or not? John thought. It was hard to decide. At least maybe it'll buy me some social capital for when I inevitably say something awkward. They’ll think I’m cool and mysterious rather than weird. That’s a positive.

  Jade stepped forward, her grey eyes bright with enthusiasm that bordered on manic. "That was incredible!" she practically shouted, apparently fully committed to her role as hype woman now. "Did you see that scythe thing? Just swept through them like they weren't even there! And then the explosions! I mean, holy shit, John!"

  +8000 Aura

  … it seemed even hyping him up was massively boosted by having more observers who weren’t in on the bullshit.

  Chester cleared his throat, shifting his weight in that awkward way he had when he was trying to figure out what to say. "That was, uh... really impressive." He paused, clearly struggling with the performance aspect. "Your power is, um, formidable? And we're... lucky to have you on our side?"

  +2000 Aura

  Bless him for trying, John thought. Chester's commitment to hyping him up was admirable, even if the execution was clunky.

  Doug just shook his head, but there was something almost fond in the gesture. "Show-off," he muttered, but without any real heat.

  +3000 Aura

  "Someone had to deal with them," John said. "Figured I'd handle it so you lot could stay dry."

  Smiles all around. It felt good, even with everything going on.

  "So," Lily said, her tone shifting to something more businesslike. "You mentioned earlier that you wanted my thoughts on something? After we dealt with the monsters?"

  And just like that, the brief moment of levity evaporated. It took every scrap of willpower he possessed to prevent his shoulders from slumping.

  Right. Claire. He’d locked in on the fight and wrapped himself up in the immediate tactical problem thoroughly enough that he'd managed to shove the entire moral dilemma into a mental box and ignore it. At least for thirty seconds.

  But Lily was looking at him expectantly now, and he could feel the others' attention sharpening as they registered the shift in his demeanour. Only Doug was unsurprised, giving him a solemn look.

  "Yeah," he said slowly. "About that."

  He looked at the four of them, his team, the people he'd been fighting alongside for what felt like forever but had really only been a week and change, his… friends.

  And he found, quite to his surprise, that their opinion on the matter meant quite a lot to him.

  "Actually," John continued, raising his voice slightly. "I think I want all of your opinions on this. It's... complicated."

  He raised his hands, activated Shadow Stream, and started talking.