Far from Lesterwood three [Druids] ran for their lives. Two were feathered beings, flapping high above the tree canopy while the unlucky mole dug deep into the frozen ground. Under normal circumstances flying higher than one’s reach or digging below one’s grasp was enough to slip away from hostile threats. There were some outliers, but Dreamstem had found that statement to be relatively true.

There were always larger predators in the air or an impenetrable rock in the soil. She knew of [Druids] who had to restructure their shifts, a painful process, simply because they were attacked mid-air. It was easy to grow wings and transform into a bird, it was hard to sprout a third wing if one was destroyed, however. The reality was that [Druids], unless heavily specialized, were weak in combat. With healing or grove utility they soared, but even then, they were at the mercy of most. Ruden had a powerful stag shift, one that left lingering pools of influence, but at the end of the day he was still a stag. Any [Hunter] with a brain could end his life.

In a way, Dreamstem was the most powerful when it came to combat of the three. Her roots, while not deadly per say, could severely harm or hinder enemies. In the future she would have to send for a private tutor for her apprentice. Celenia seemed to be taking after those around her and fell towards fighting but there was only so much her master could teach her on the subject. A shame though, Dreamstem enjoyed teaching the young student. The retreating raven craned her neck to look behind. The sight rebounded like a trebuchet that didn’t let go of its projectile. They had been wrong. So very wrong.

Beside her a toucan just larger than her shift, stared daggers at her. She knew what he wanted; they may have a single way out of the situation. The issue arose about the fallout. Had they covered their tracks? Had they been ignorant of anything? Well, yes. The calamity behind them proved as much. But would there be anyway to tie it to the Order. Last thing Dreamstem wanted was Lesterwood to declare war on the Order.

She could see it now. The official declaration would fall, her first mission would arrive. Assassinate the Lost Lord. Would she be able to do it? No, she didn’t think so. Max had done so much for her, even though he didn’t know it. He had opened her eyes to the scum of her Order, even if he had no clue about the situation… She could only hope Lesterwood would never find out. If the Order exiled her, or worse, then the ending would be acceptable. If not…

The glare from the toucan seemed to burn. Fine! She thought, sending an equally hot look back. Three rings of blue light shone from under her obsidian feathers. They brightened for a brief moment before firing out into three different nearby trees. With some luck, the Order would have their receival office open this time of day. The nearest main branch was a few hours behind in daylight, meaning that if the office isn’t open now, it should be open soon. If they found the message and immediately sent reinforcements, then they could expect a unit within four hours… Maybe five.

A loud crack thundered through the forest, shaking soft snow from the branches, and forcing gravity to take hold of long icicles. Dreamstem forced a heavy flap with one wing, flipping over to her back allowing her to see the destruction. Something was pushing its way from the ground, like a newborn sprout. She flipped back, regaining control of her flight. She and the toucan shared a look; the mole was dead.

Distantly, she could hear the first chimes of Lesterwood’s emergency bells.

Shadows twisted and loomed as if marionetted by an invisible string. Stalagmites blocked the light from the dwindling flames, a portrayal of the end of a hard-fought battle. Blood runoff had mixed with the purity of the underground stream, causing a putrid smell. The cavern was populated; however, reinforcements had arrived some time ago. But they were disturbed. They had expected to find death, death of their friends and teammates. But the raid had survived with minimal casualties, in fact.

No, they were disturbed because of the being dead at the end of the stream. A true Eldritch. Just the aura its carcass leaked was enough to cause panic. The tick of power was still active in the cave. Whispers of a Divine promise. Drink the blood, and you will grow. They all had heard it. Greed echoed off the concave ceiling, the promise of corrupting power. The inexperienced were quickly moved away along with the grieving or weak-willed.

Flames of white purification devoured the sources of evil. Even as dead bodies, the Eldritch could have harmful effects. It would take a long while to clear every one of its grasps but using Domic’s fire the process was done faster. The injured were being healed, mana potions were being passed around, but the somber atmosphere still lived. By the entrance they cheered and partied, as it was their right. But deeper, by the broken jars of blood and the shattered statue of a wicked Goddess, a group stood in silence.

They stood in a rough circle around Clammy, each coming to terms with what just transpired in their own ways. Yel was powerless. She knew she would be of little help before the raid started but seeing a tier one heroically charge into battle left a vile taste in her mouth. A limitation of her class, [Bounty Hunter] was not truly a battle class. It was categorized as such due to the bonuses she would receive when fighting her target but had significantly taste for tracking targets. In reality, fighting an unknown monster would normally be a death sentence for her. She was only brought along for her presence as a known leader.

Shatterwind felt sick. Between the Eldritch, [Hexer], and the mass in the antechamber, she had lost her stomach more than a few times already. Her job made her numb to such visuals, but this was different. This was mass extinction, a level she had never encountered before. There were stories from her family tribe of Sylphs [Knights] fighting off dragons, crazed mages solving problems with magic. Others were about the deities, but a few, the ones they were told as punishment rather than for enjoyment, were about the Eldritch.

The crown atop the statue had made an appearance in most stories. The nutrients required to re-birth an Eldritch. If the one the raid team fought had placed the crown upon its head, Lesterwood would have been destroyed. At least, if the stories were to be trusted. Just the thought of something so powerful caused Shatterwind’s belly to quake.

Mel was nearby. She sat leaned up against a wall, fiddling with her belt. She was nervous. Clammy was her friend at the end of the day, and it pained her to see her friend in such a way. If she had a heat resistance potion, would it have made a difference? No, probably not. She knew her strengths and fighting a marathon of enemies was not one of them.

Domic wandered around torching corpses, idly thinking about the fight. He knew a few places where he could have improved or done things differently to achieve better results. But in the end, he knew they were lucky. He only hoped they could leave soon, as the fallout from the Eldritch’s poison would only linger in the cavern. He had sent multiple mana messages to the surface, discussing various ways to best purify everyone. The Healers had some ideas, which would help speed things up. But at this point it would be days before everything was clean.

Bishop stood stiff as a log. He had hardly moved since Clammy broke the barrier protecting the crown and subsequently fell into a vision. Besides checking on the remainder of the raid, he had stood by her side the entire time. His mind kept drifting to the antechamber. It had to have been hundreds. Hundreds of dead goblins and a single Ghoul. Briefly he spoke to a mage overseeing the defenses. She said no one had gone into the antechamber, except for Clammy.

If that was accurate, Clammy had slaughtered all of them. She singlehandedly won them the battle by cutting off the stockpile of fresh goblin bodies. Killing a Ghoul alone was something any mentor could be proud of, but the way its body was crushed had worried him. Everything in that antechamber looked as if it was crushed by one hundred stone pillars. Which Bishop understood to be a part of Clammy’s magic. Added weight can quickly break things, he had learned. But the pile had disturbed him.

Even with the War God’s blessing, the mana required for such an attack would be astronomical. Maybe that was why Clammy hadn’t woken up from her vision yet. She had overexerted herself in the antechamber and was resting… A weak comfort, but as the hours ticked by, Bishop was starting to worry. At least she didn’t have the vision in battle, he thought. At least we killed the beast, he tried.

No… She had fallen to her knees the moment the crown was destroyed, almost as if a veil had been lifted. Something was protecting her until the last moment, he finally decided. But what could have done that? A God maybe? Cral perhaps? That might make sense, he wouldn’t want a battle interrupted… Gaxitia? She could hold back a vision, after all she is the All Seeing… Could… Could Clammy have found her magic? Did she have a revelation?

That idea spun through Bishop’s head. If she is controlling this vision, why hasn’t she left it? It had been hours. Her visions usually lasted minutes, sometimes seconds. Was she trying to see all she could? Was she trying to see too far? His thoughts were ended as the young woman twitched. She scrunched her eyes, involuntarily it looked like, but a good sign, nonetheless. Bishop had observed most of her visions and could recognize his apprentice’s movement.

She blinked, then her fingers moved. She shook her head; life came back to her eyes… At least sort of. They were still grey, but her veins had receded. She fell forward, weak beyond belief. Her lips were as cracked as a desert plateau, her throat dry as a creak in summer. Bishop was there not a breath later, he caught her before she hit the ground. Sweet, crisp water found her mouth, but she pushed the canteen away.

“Drink, drink… Shhh, everything is alright… Everything is fine, you are safe.” Bishop’s words were a lighthouse in the darkness to Clammy in this moment. She latched to his words, using them to carry her.

“…-cs” She tried; her voice broke under the strain. Gulps of water met her empty stomach, a churning pain moments later.

“Don’t speak… Open your notifications, maybe you leveled.” Bishop was hoping she had a level pending but was doubtful. The Eldritch was technically a level one. He received no experience for its demise, along with the others.

Clammy strained her back, shifting her body to a better position. She puffed her chest, it shuttered back in disagreement. “-ax… el…”

“Clammy don’t speak, everything is fi-“ The room shifted, gravity shifted. Items skipped across the ground, being attracted to the young mage. Pressure pushed on Bishop, enough to make him uncomfortable. Clammy pulled Bishop down to her mouth. She spoke directly into his ear, strained and broken.

“Attack Les-wood… Tell-Max…“ She passed out. Bishop moved.

The village was pinned down. Hundreds of monsters swarmed the rickety buildings, clawing at doors and windows. Little stood in the way of protection for the citizens, their youngest and most able had long since hidden themselves or died protecting others. Families huddled together crying prayers to the Heavens, wishing for a miracle. Glass shattered, the weight of the monster being too much. A sickly black furred being stepped through. It was long and skinny; ribs textured its torso like a xylophone. Bright yellow stained eyes twitched as the beast sniffed the interior.

Subtly, the mother of the family shuffled herself between the monster and her children. They were dead, she knew, but she was going to make sure her knife found flesh. Her two kids, a boy and a girl, cobbled together remnants of safety. The girl held a field plow, a tool of one of her daily chores. The boy a hand sling and a bundle of small pebbles.

The monster sniffed a chunk of cheese, leftovers from dinner. It coughed, hacking up blue gooey mucus. The mother saw a chance, she lunged into a dive. Her knife drew blood, a deep cut down the monsters back leg. She stumbled back, losing her knife in the process but landing by the furnace. The children covered their ears as the monster howled in pain. A chopped branch of timber rushed forward, spearing the monster in the side. The mother called for her children, but a second being jumped through the window.

The family was cut off, they had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The room went cold. The second beast growled, slashing at the cowering family. A mark of red appeared on the mother’s leg and the smell of iron filled the small home. Fangs charged, but the mother didn’t see. She couldn’t see. Her eyes were shut tight, in the back of her mind she thought if she couldn’t see the monster, it couldn’t hurt her. But a realization overcame her moments later.

She felt no pain, no new wounds were open. It must have gone for her children. Her eyes widened in horror, expecting to see death. Instead, she felt a tug. Her son was pulling on her skirt him while pointing. Tracing his finger, the two monsters were dead, large ice shards jutted out of the area between their eyes. Ice sheets were everywhere, blocking windows and covering doorways.

“Wha-what happened?” The mother said, her voice trembling. She fell to her butt, the pain of her wound finally overcoming her.

“The man was here.” The daughter said.

“Wh-what man?”

“The ice man.” The son said.

The ‘ice man’ was the children’s name for the mage who gave the village his protection. It had been a few weeks, but after the first time the elders called the young man, the children had not stopped talking about him. They spoke in wonderous breaths, excited to explain to any about the ice man’s barrier of cold. At first, the mother found it cute. Her kids were explaining to other villagers, who were present at the time, about the ice man. It was funny how kids viewed the world, often they would miss remember or exaggerate.

If you were to ask one of the kids, they would tell you the story of the heroic man and his bonded blue Dragon. He created a dome of impenetrable marbled ice. Beautiful as it was protective. But if you were to ask the elders, they would have told you it was nothing more than an eggshell.

“Where did he go?”

Her kid pointed outside through a thin layer of ice. The early morning sun painted the snow in pastel reds and oranges. Blood had frozen over while remains of the unlucky few were being feasted upon. A young man, wearing robes of dark blues and purples, slowly walked forward. Beside him was a small blue bonded monster. Six orbs of water trailed meekly above, each trembling slightly as if being squeezed.

A monster sniffed the air, turning its attention from the feast. Not a moment later a solid bar of water fired out from the left most orb. The beast was cannon balled backward, slamming into an empty barn. The sound alerted the other monsters, but all orbs opened fire. Pressurized beams of water sliced deep, mixing into a diluted red as wounds appeared. One howled before its death, summoning others from the surrounding.

The young man was surrounded, monsters of different types converged onto his position. Herbivores stood beside their predators; lone hunters stood with packs. Each had distinct but similar streaks of blue along with shimmering yellow eyes. As the first monster leaped forward, the young man and his bond disappeared. Moments later six explosions broke the landscape. The formation of beasts collapsed into a mist of red and body parts.

“Alright!” A voice said from behind the mother, causing her to jump in surprise. “Oh, sorry.”

“Ice man!” The son said.

“Ice man? Eh, I like it better than one armed mage.” The man said that to the boy, but the bonded monster nodded in agreement. “That looks painful, may I?”

Before the mother could respond, a small glob of water wrapped around her calf. The glob turned red and her pain subsided seconds later. The water slid away, forming into a spiked bolt. It moved before the man before being launched out of the house. A cry of pain sounded.

“We need to go.” He said, “I can take you all to Lesterwood, you are going to have to trust me, however.”

“Yes! Anything to get us out of here.” The mother spoke instantly.

“Great!” A smile appeared on the mage’s face along with a ripple of air beside him. “I just need you to walk through this.”

“Wha-“

“It’s a Pocket Dimension. Quite spacious as I understand it. A few of your neighbors are already inside. Their window’s had broken before yours- Be right back-“ The man disappeared. A thump sounded from the roof, then a bestial cry. The man appeared again. “Okay, sorry one got on the roof. You coming?”

The mother didn’t hesitate, she pulled her children along disappearing into the rift.

“Good, that went quicker than the last one.” The man said to his bond.

“How many more?” She retorted, sniffing a chunk of cheese. She gagged.

“Two more houses.” He held out his arm, the bond clamped to it before they both disappeared.

“Icarus!” Max yelled upon arriving in the mansion. “We are about to have a bunch of guests!”

The lights flickered as if being pulled into an invisible vortex. The owl formed along with a tree branch of light. “What’s going on? You disappeared suddenly; Celenia is rushing around town!”

“Monsters, a lot of them” Emi said, “We brought the villagers.”

“Brought the villagers?” Icarus shifted branches, trying to stay in front of Max as he walked through the house.

“Why haven’t the bells gone off?” Max asked, entering the room kept as an armory. He shuffled through a shelf, removing multiple mana potions. They disappeared into his inventory.

“The bells? Why would the bells-“

An earthquake stopped the owl. Everything shook, all over the city. The bells started moments later.

Max paused, “What monster can make the ground shake here? Something in the river?”

Icarus was silent, his eyes distant. His consciousness spread throughout the city, making use of relays Lester had set up over the years. Lester considered using such devices as an invasion of privacy, but in the time of disaster they proved crucial. “The entire city shook… Max, I need you to tell me what you saw outside the walls.”

“It was the fungus. Thousands of monsters, each infected. The villages were overrun… We couldn’t save them all.”

“You can never save them all. But trying is the important part.” Icarus’s eyes turned hollow, as if someone else spoke through him. “What types of monsters?”

“All kinds. Some I’ve never seen before, others I wouldn’t think would be together.”

“Any Brown Colossal Bears?”

“No.” Emi said, Max nodded with her.

“Good, that most likely means the fungus didn’t get to the northern border forest.” Icarus paused, “Where are the villagers you say you have?”

“I made a Pocket World.” A ripple of space formed besides the Lost Lord. He pushed a bit of mana, allowing the invisible constructs to briefly shine. The room light up in white cross hatches.

Icarus’s eyes widened, “ I see… Let them out.”

Max poked his head through the ripple. The pocket was large, very large. But, at the moment it was nothing but empty real estate. The villagers stood below a haze of light, below a staircase of white lines on a similarly themed floor. They looked scared huddled together, as the black-purple backdrop of the dimension only insisted worry. Max let out a sigh of relief. Everyone looked fine, just shaken. He would have to do some remodeling for future guests, but the spell had done its job.

“It’s safe to come out!” Max yelled, turning heads, “We’re in Lesterwood. Come out slowly, I don’t want to run out of mana.”

Over the next few minutes, a small population of new residents found refuge in the mansion. They spread out through the lower floor, finding warmth by the hearths, or bundled in wool blankets. Belopi oversaw their safety for the moment, as the strain of the last few hours finally caught up to Max. He closed his eyes, finding sleep only seconds later.

In what felt like only minutes, Max was woken up by a roar. A roar so loud, glass cracked all over the city. Seconds later a dome of light surrounded all of Lesterwood, illusionary words hung in the sky.

REMAIN CALM