Here we go, everyone! I hope you enjoy. Like I've told you, I'll try to get you a chapter this weekend, but I may be unable to; I don't know exactly what my schedule at the convention will be like. Otherwise, I'll see you on the 16th with a nice juicy chapter.

Plum

26 – Welcome to the Night Kingdom

Lucy, on hands and knees, looked over the edge of her perch, wishing she had more arrows or more mana—or both. Despite her earlier optimism, the remaining Gavax weren’t going down without a terrific struggle. They’d already broken through the wall again and were doggedly pushing forward despite the defenders’ heroic resistance.

Lucy had seen them break the wall this time; the front rank of soldiers had all pressed against the stone, their shields had flared briefly, and then the barrier had simply broken apart—stones flying in every direction, in some cases striking down defenders. Even so, whatever ability allowed them to break through fortifications seemed to be limited; the Gavax were forced to funnel toward this new break in the wall, and the Dondalli defenders were able to whittle them down bit by bit.

Lucy had burned through her mana in no time, pumping fire arrow after fire arrow into their ranks, but now, as she waited to regenerate some fresh mana, she watched. To her amazement, Janice was still prominent in the thick of the battle. The arrow in her chest was gone, but Lucy didn’t know if that meant she’d healed or if she’d just ripped it out in her rage. She was enraged; there could be no doubt of that.

The dragonkin Berserker screamed and roared, her voice rising high above the din as she whipped her massive spiked club left and right. Lucy had seen her wielding an axe, a spear, and even a shield—weapons she’d picked up from the ground—but somehow she always seemed to recover her gigantic club.

Lucy couldn’t see behind the Dondalli house on which she perched, but she knew Madi was back there, working her defensive magic. She could feel it gathering—could the Gavax? It didn’t seem so, considering how they kept pressing together, packing into the opening in the wall. Lucy had enough mana to fire a couple of arrows, but she waited, holding her breath as Madi’s magic grew to a crescendo.

Just as before, it came in a wave, rippling through the air. It had a certain flavor to it, like the wetness of rain, the scent of grass, and the sound of the wind through a tree’s leaves all wrapped up together. Then it came down on the Gavax and, once again, the ground just beyond the wall erupted with thorny spears.

Maybe a hundred of the armored soldiers were slain outright, but then the thick green spears split apart, stretching away in every direction, winding together to create an impassable thorny barrier, and Lucy knew it was over. The vast majority of the remaining Gavax were stuck in that barrier, dead or dying or hopelessly trapped.

She leaped to her feet and drew back her bow, sending fiery arrows into the Gavax who’d already broken through and were inside the wall. When her mana was dry again, she lowered her bow and watched, chest heaving, somehow out of breath from her exertions. She supposed it was the adrenaline crash and her tension finally releasing; they’d won.

It took a while before Torfal came to get her. When he arrived, he dripped with a mixture of red blood and black Gavax…fluid. He held his spear aloft and howled, “We are victorious!”

Lucy smiled, nodding. She wanted to celebrate; after all, they’d won despite terrifying odds, but she didn’t yet know the cost. How many of her friends had died or been hurt? How many Dondalli were dead? Before she could give voice to any of those thoughts, though, the System distracted everyone:

***Congratulations! You and your faction have won a significant victory over the Gavax Collective. Be wary; while this army is defeated, the Gavax threat remains. For the moment, rejoice—you played an instrumental part in the defeat of 998 Gavax soldiers. While a tremendous feat, you were part of an army, and the glory must be shared.

Due to your heroic actions, you’ve gained enough experience to advance your Monster Slayer class 7 levels. You’ve earned 4 Improvement Points and 35 maximum mana.

As a level 40 Monster Slayer, many of your skills are eligible for morphs; you’ll need to invest Improvement Points to explore your options. Lucy, the skills you improve determine the direction of your class; failure to invest in your abilities will cause you to stagnate.***

Lucy had just begun to wrap her head around the idea that the System was gently chiding her for hoarding her Improvement Points when yet another lengthy message filled her view:

***Tucson Desert Basin Regional War and Faction Event has begun:

Goal: Unite or conquer the various factions in the Tucson Desert Basin.

Mesquite Mesa Faction Progress:Mount Lemmon Elven Refuge – FriendlyDondalli Settlement – AlliedGavax Collective – WarMondole Clan – HostileVexid Hive – NeutralHuorn Nomads – NeutralNight Kingdom – HostileLentiss Empire – HostileTitan Silo Society – Neutral

Congratulations! Your faction has formed an alliance with the Dondalli, earning a Boon Point for Mesquite Mesa. Further prizes will be awarded for each settlement your faction conquers or adds to its alliance. Special awards await the faction that unites the region!***

“A little late,” Lucy muttered.

Torfal looked at her. “Did you receive a message about a regional war?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. We’ll have to talk about that, but for the time being, can you take me down? I need to check on my friends.”

###

“Lucy’s group? You think so?” Omar asked.

Andy shrugged. “We just left the settlement, so I find it hard to believe anyone there made an alliance and started a war already. It’s gotta be Lucy and the others.”

Omar was still squinting into space, probably looking at the System message. “I guess we should have formalized some kind of agreement with Delilah before we separated.”

“Well, I don’t know if she had that kind of authority. We’ll have to make a visit up to Mount Lemmon, I guess.”

The Paladin nodded, waving away the System message. Even as he did so, he grimaced and said, “Dang! I should have written that one down.”

Andy smiled, reaching into his storage ring for a notebook. “Don’t worry. Mine’s still up.”

A few minutes later, with the names of the nearby factions neatly printed in his notebook, Andy brushed aside the message. “Should we just camp here tonight?”

“Seems fine to me,” Omar replied, moving away from the window. “Help me push this bookcase in front of the glass. That way we can have a small fire.”

Andy looked over the cracked, half-shattered glass. The warped door and the broken windows would still provide plenty of ventilation. “Yeah, I guess the smoke won’t be easy to trace back to us, considering we’re already three stories up.”

“There are fires all over the place down here.” Omar began scooping knickknacks, trophies, and photographs off a large executive bookcase. Andy watched him for a moment, contemplating the lost civilization they represented—the life of the person they’d been meaningful to.

“It’s kind of depressing.”

Omar paused, a large corporate binder in hand, and looked at him. “This ruined office building?”

“Nah, just what it represents. What those things represent. Someone spent a large part of their life in this office. I wonder if they survived.”

“Huh.” Omar looked around, his eyes drifting to the desk. “Probably could find a name in one of those drawers—business cards or something.”

Andy moved to grab one end of the bookcase. “Let’s not look.”

Omar grabbed the other side, and they lifted, carrying the big piece of furniture in front of the window. “Agreed.”

The broken part of the window was fully covered, and Andy managed to straighten out the mostly ruined blinds to cover the rest. With that done, he closed the door to the larger office space and then began unloading their camping supplies. “I’ve got instant noodles.”

“That sounds good. I’ll take a cola if you have any left.”

Andy tossed him a red-and-white can. “I’ve got a case.”

Omar brushed the dust and debris off a pair of comfortable chairs—they’d been in front of the window and the storms hadn’t been kind to them. As he sat down, popping the tab on his soda can, he said, “Never thought I’d look forward to a warm cola.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll find a way to make something similar or better. Or maybe get a new supplier—who knows what we can get from other System worlds and settlements.”

“You going with Eddie’s theory?”

Andy nodded, sparking to life the little camp stove. Eduardo believed that once they established connections to some other settlements with the “System Trade Beacon,” they’d begin to get more options for improvements in that area—maybe even System mail or travel services. “Makes sense to me. Wonder if those Dondalli we’re apparently allied with have a Trade Beacon.”

“Guess we’ll find out.” Omar glanced at the window. “Unless we bite off more than we can chew with the undead.”

While he filled a pot with water and set it on the burner, Andy said, “I know your, uh, patron warned you about these undead, but I wish we could try to talk to them. I get it; they’re undead, which kind of goes against people who are, you know, alive, but I wonder if all of them are really automatically bad. It seemed like Kent still knew right and wrong.”

“Yeah.” Omar scratched the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t know how it works, but we need to be extra careful. I’m okay with you trying to talk to them, but you’ve gotta dial back on your usual trusting nature. You get me?”

Andy smiled as he dragged one of the chairs closer to the stove. “Yeah, I get you.” He cracked open a cola of his own, savoring the lukewarm, fizzy, syrupy liquid like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the hiss of the camp stove as it heated the water, but, as the final deep-red glow of the setting sun faded from behind the blinds, new sounds began to echo through the streets of downtown Tucson.

It started with hoots and random, staccato banging sounds. Andy looked at Omar, arching an eyebrow, and he shrugged. They’d heard plenty of similar things in the ruins. Soon, though, new sounds joined in. Loud, discordant cries and screams began to echo. Some of the voices were unmistakably human—intermixed with the roars and coughs of monsters and beasts.

The banging crashes took on a frenzied tempo, and soon it seemed like there had to be an army of lunatics out in the streets and in the nearby buildings, tearing things apart—pounding on walls, shattering windows, throwing stones, furniture, machines, and anything else they could get their hands on. The cacophony rose to such heights that Andy couldn’t imagine it was real; he began to doubt his own sanity, but the look on Omar’s face said he was thinking along similar lines.

The office was dark—only the blue flame of the camp stove providing light for their magically enhanced eyes. Andy stood and approached the window, and Omar joined him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Just open it a little,” the older man said.

Andy nodded, gently separating the battered blinds so he could peer through. He immediately closed them. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Omar asked.

“There are so many!”

“What?” Omar repeated.

“Things,” Andy replied, and then he separated the blinds again, revealing the glowing, feral eyes staring from the windows of neighboring buildings. Pale figures leaped and cavorted. Some were chased by flickering orbs of greenish-blue magical light.

There were hulking figures down near the street, and they were responsible for most of the noise, ripping apart building facades, vehicles, and furniture; throwing the debris in random directions. Whole troops of near-naked humanoids ran through the streets, their leaders hooting and hissing commands while the followers echoed their cries.

Omar hissed, shaking his head. “They’re undead.”

“You can tell?”

He nodded. “My class reveals their nature. Cinerath calls it miasma; I can see it floating around them like a sickly green glow.”

Andy looked up again, taking in the figures in the windows across the street. “If they’re in those buildings…”

Omar spun, looking toward the closed office door. “Then they’re probably in this one.”

That was when they heard the thud of something heavy falling in the open cubicle space outside. “Are they…” Andy looked at Omar, hastily summoning Scirocco into his hand.

Omar stooped to pick up his shield while Andy hurried forward, turned off the camp stove and sent it into his storage ring. He had a feeling it didn’t matter—a feeling in the pit of his stomach that said the undead outside the office already knew they were in there. They were gathering, ready to spring a trap that Andy and Omar had built around themselves.

He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Omar, facing the door. More and more sounds came to them—creaks, thuds, the susurrus of eager exhalations and flesh and cloth rubbing together. Andy leaned close to Omar and whispered, “If we have to, we can go through the window. I can’t go far carrying you, but we can get clear of this building if I transform—”

Andy’s words were cut off by three steady knocks at the door. He crouched, pointing Scirocco, ready for anything. Omar positioned his shield before himself and halfway covering Andy, too.

Another single knock sounded, and then a low, raspy voice said, “Welcome, visitors, to the Night Kingdom.”