The planks leading down from the leading ship barely bent under Zhan Bao’s weight. Zhuangjing walked just behind, the rest of the team following.

“Here we are,” she said as her sandaled feet hit the pavement of the quay.

One body lay on the quay, and she reflexively put her hand on it.

Murray Finn

Deceased, 428 fēn

Health required: 849

Yes

No

She ignored the options, simply standing up and ignoring the deceased low-level enemy Hero. He would be gone before long anyway.

Jochi Khasar stood at attention. The Plain White Bannerman had been commander of many operations in the New Great Campaigns, yet achieving tier-five despite the slow progress imposed on him by the long marches. He was the best general she could have for the troops under her command.

“The landing is proceeding apace, Greatest Hero. We’re having difficulties but not too many,” he announced.

“I can see,” she replied, as more flashes came from the end of the bank. “Looks like Geng Bo is facing real opposition.”

The general turned back to face the direction of her gaze.

“It shouldn’t be that hard. He’s got a partial company of Heroes to supplement him,” he frowned. “There might be more Great Heroes of the enemy than we anticipated.”

“Then it is a good thing we brought so many of ours,” she replied, smiling.

“Our Greater Heroes shall prevail,” he said.

“The first target is their King’s Palace. Get him, and the rest will fall in line or be disorganised. Secure that and the Great Gate, and then we can turn to our real goal here.”

Then she frowned, looking at the sky.

Tier-four Light Tactician Evelyn Nagle blinked at the notification popping up in her mind.

Extended Flame Bolt hits you for no damage (691 - structure obstacle).

HMSS Cloudrunner shuddered and the rumble of the Crystal-powered propellers faltered. Captain Dunn screamed from the front, “Hole. We’re holed.”

Nagle turned and spotted the burning hole made into the deck of the skyship. The planking had burst inward, splintering and dropping embers all over the deck. The two navigators were already trying to stomp at the fires, fearful of the potential to spread.

“Balls. That’s how they shoot so accurately at us…”

The Captain looked at her uncomprehendingly. Nagle knew she shouldn’t expect the mundane Skynavy Captain to understand her reasoning. But that secret Bonapartist artillery weapon was a Professional skill. “Extended”, which she had no idea how that was achieved, but this was how they savaged the Stormbreaker which looked like she was going to manage to crash over the Thames, maybe allowing the crew to survive. And why it was so accurate. Such a skill targeted something – or rather, in this case, someone – and didn’t miss.

They were shooting at me!

There would be more to it since the Stormbreaker didn’t have a Professional team on her. She almost explained it when team-mate Advisor Wilber Bartley exclaimed, “they’re shooting Flame Bolts at us! There are Professionals down there firing!”

The skyship shuddered again and started dropping.

“Captain, we have to leave,” she said.

“I understand,” Dunn said distractedly, switching on another propeller, trying to turn aside the floundering aerial.

All five members of Nagle’s team already had their packs. Veterans of the assault on Versailles, they were supposed to launch from the Cloudrunner in a demonstration of the superior British Labyrinth-based technology.

“Go. They’ll need every Professional they can.”

“It’s been an honour.”

“Get out while I try to salvage what I can.”

The hapless Captain was probably feeling useless. Skyships were peerless observation platforms, able to coordinate with ships at sea or troops on the ground using Crystal-powered flash-lights signals, and platforms for pinpoint bombardment, safe from artillery retaliation at their heights. But the Cloudrunner had obviously no bomb load, and the logistics of an observation post for the theatre of observations were lacking in London.

The five rushed at the side door while the doomed crew tried to steer the fall, as another bolt hit the skyship. Then, Nagle jumped.

She wasted no time. Barely a second after falling out of the doorframe, she pulled on the small cotton cord as she’d practised so much over the last two weeks, and felt the sharp tug of the unfolding taffetas sewn from various tier-three recycled loot. Unlike the expanse of the Queen’s Gardens and the Great Gate target, the rooftops of London greeted her, with the Thames not too far.

A bolt passed over her, aimed at the Cloudrunner. She looked up and spotted the other two skyships moving away.

Good thinking. You’re liabilities.

She had very limited manoeuvrability, and not too much time to use it. Maybe twenty seconds, based on past jumps. She tugged at the strings attached to the rectangular frame, trying to steer. From here, there looked like a few battles occurring along the quays, as people – obviously Professionals – engaged the invading forces. She shifted and hoped the rest of the team would follow her lead.

Two years ago, Ira would have been running in panic like the many onlookers that had come for the ceremonies and the Grand Parade which was probably not going to happen ever. Balls, he had been running, but toward the Gate, not away.

The Gate attack had been a localized event, a single team disrupting everything. The fourth column of smoke coming from afar told everyone this was nothing like that.

More Professionals caught and bypassed the three, although he, Guss and Laura, were also catching up to people in mundane clothes but swords of weird styles, staves or even books out. Agility was the deciding factor in that kind of desperate running, eroding his endurance. Still, they ran on toward the Thames.

They burst onto the quay, a dozen mid-tiers Professionals, to be greeted by a scene of chaos. A pair of high-tier spellcasters were trying to fend off a troop of soldiers, dumping area-of-effect flames anytime they approached, while what was obviously higher-tiers were battering a pair of teams. A man with a shield was fending off attacks by one whose swords left streaks of weird colours as he swung them. A few corpses were strewn around, all obvious Professionals in gear.

“Need reinforcements. Heals!” the man said hurriedly, before fending off another strike.

He did look exhausted, meaning that, despite his skills being as efficient as when he’d started fighting, he was going on his last endurance reserves. Ira didn’t hesitate and rushed next to him. Protect came up, allowing him to shore the man’s defence rating with whatever the under-levelled heroic sword would let him do.

Protect

Personal/Defense

Rank 0: Adds 200% of your highest weapon’s current damage (103 physical), plus 50% of your highest weapon’s defence (0) as defence rating (206+31) to another target of your current target. Costs: 0.2 endurance per rating (41)

“Thanks,” the man said briefly.

Then the next sword sliced, not at the shield, but at Ira, and he flinched, something that hadn’t been part of his routine in the Labyrinth for more than a year.

Bo Geng’s Focused Cut does 933 (945-12) physical damage (78+44 defence).

The other defender guessed immediately at his predicament. Without his gear, Ira would suffer far more damage than otherwise. The pseudo-civilian garbs Laura had cobbled for all of the team had a pitiful defence compared to his proper gearset. The Flat Blade bonus from his borrowed sword was almost as important as the baseline, and of course, he couldn’t profit from his own Protect.

“Stand back!” the shieldbearer ordered.

But instead of following with another cut that might have shaved another third of his diminished health, the opponent’s eye rose upward, and suddenly a shadow passed over Ira’s head.

Geng Bo had been increasingly frustrated with the fight. His own ad-hoc team of Greater Heroes should have had no difficulty running down what looked like a bunch of lower-tier Great Heroes, but the shieldbearer had been obstinate, using worthless skills to keep him unbalanced. He, Tebudai and Zhu Jianhong had managed to kill three of the gnats facing him, but Yin Guo was pressed to heal him as the two cowardly spellcasters were showering him with Ice Darts, only stopping to blast at Jianhong if he dared come closer to the action. And their Darts were becoming more and more destructive. Tebudai was stymied as well, and none of the Heroic troops could help, not with Greater spellcasters ready to rain devastation on them like they were mortals.

Three lower Heroes can stop one, he repeated the mantra, distilled from the Greater Heroes war manual.

He had no idea how high those were but fought they did. And when one fell, inevitably, another two joined, like this cloth-clad one with a lowly longsword, looking even lower than his previous enemy.

Focused Cut hits for 933 (945-12) physical damage (78+44 defence).

Well, at least the man could survive a hit, even if he was low…

Geng Bo had seen many things in the Labyrinth, but the three – no, five – shapes falling down on the battlefield were the strangest thing he’d ever seen. The squares fluttered like banners in the wind, and as he watched, the five shapes under those fell the last three bu separating them from the quay, hitting the pavement. The one in front of him landed with a massive grunt, but immediately straightened and aimed for him, twirling two identical-looking steel maces. For one moment, he wondered how high those could be if they mastered flight. Not even the Greatest Hero herself had found that.

One of the chainmail-clad newcomer’s companions yelled something incomprehensible, and the two that he’d been fighting moved apart as one and stepped back, letting the defender take the front.

“Let us take over,” a woman’s voice came, and Ira breathed more easily.

A dual-wielding defender appeared between him and the shieldbearer and they both automatically stepped back. Of course, the move would have made more sense in the Labyrinth, facing the relatively stupid critters that populated the zones. Nothing was stopping the foreign Professional from ignoring the defender and trying to finish him or the other exhausted frontline fighter. But the enemy was obviously stunned by the drop.

After Versailles, you get used to it, Ira thought.

The newcomers also looked slightly familiar, which was expected. He knew the festivities would include a demonstration of the same Skyship drop manoeuvre of Professionals from the skies like the one over the Village, and of course, veterans of said would be there.

Which, of course, meant they were also slightly under what he assumed the level of the Artefact-wielding enemy was. But they were fresh and the enemy team had to be close to exhausted now.

He retreated slightly more, as the woman who’d ordered him back overpassed him, joining the fight with her defender. His own health was starting to inch higher, as Guss was pumping some heals into him, and he realized that Laura was at the side, battering into a pack of pikemen who were trying to bypass the main fight and attack the rear. The chaos of the shifting tides of the combat was intensifying.

“Thanks for the help, Ira,” the shieldbearer said.

He was startled, before realizing that the man was a familiar figure as well.

“Blazes, didn’t recognize you. Where’s Woolahan?”

Cornelius Reekey exhaled a tired sigh.

“Bit it.”

“Alois as well,” said another voice, as a robed woman joined them.

“How long?” Ira asked.

“Almost seven hours, thankfully,” she said, alluding to the resurrection timing. Ira knew the Woolhalan’s team was in the upper-four, low-fives, between 350 and 400 levels. Maybe slightly higher than that for Alois… Corbeld, Corrie’s husband.

“Didn’t recognize you either,” Reekey said. “What happened to your Claymore?”

“It’s at headquarters. Couldn’t bring it, no Puppet.”

“Don’t be a foozler. First thing first, when we’re back, I’ll find you one.”

“Almost done,” Guss said.

“Go and help Laura,” Ira replied, noticing that her health was starting to drop.

“Those are mundane pikes, she can survive them. Her defence will cap absorption,” Guss noted.

As if to belie the remark, her health dropped by five hundred abruptly. Guss’s head whipped toward where four low-tier Professionals were trying to disperse the Chinese soldiers, and he spotted the telltale embers of a Firefall. From afar, he spotted what looked like another team of high-tiers coming along the quay. The four Professionals immediately dispersed, to avoid further attacks.

“Retreat. You’re ungeared and lower levels,” Corbeld said.

“We…” Ira stopped as Guss put his hand on his shoulder.

“She’s right. We might have tier-four Milestones and stuff, but we’re at upper-tier three in levels, and without gear, we might as well be at lower-mid tier-three.”

“We should find another…”

“No, grab the dead. And bring them to the Gate. They can retreat to the Labyrinth for protection once resurrected.”

“Aren’t the Chinese going to go straight for it?” Ira asked back.

Both Corrie and Cornelius’s eyes widened.

“That’s why they landed here. We must stop them.”

“Or they’ll go around us. They probably have other teams all around,” Laura said breathlessly, as she joined them.

“Grab Nolan and Alois, and bring them to safety.”

Ira hesitated, but Laura cut him off.

“Will do. Take care,” she said.

Ira was about to object, but the two survivors had already turned and were headed toward the burning quay. Four more Professionals came out of a side street, already geared, and joined them running toward the battle, as the Chinese retreated a bit.

“I hate this,” Ira wailed.

“We’ll find a few full low-tier teams, and try to stop one of their companies without high-tiers around. Those might be Professional in name, but they’re no better geared than we are right now. It looks like a hodgepodge of mundane uniforms and some low-quality stuff,” Laura said.

She picked one corpse, then after a slight hesitation, draped another on her other shoulder. Ira sighed, and picked what he recognized as Nolan Woolahan’s corpse. Guss hoisted another, and with that, they retreated.

It’s not a lair. You can’t expect to come back and find the critters have retreated.

Augusta Cowen’s Armaments slid under the opposing Professional’s strike, blocking it. The enemy swore in his incomprehensible tongue, and she laughed bitterly. Flame Bolts crossed over her head as Myrl Douglas and her opponent exchanged spells, leaving Augusta, Emory and Waldo to tackle the two melee enemies.

Meeting them on the street along St James had been a shock. She’d been expecting remnant Dominionists, but the descriptors from Gauge Enemy didn’t lie and the names she was seeing were not European ones.

Luoyang Ding

Level: 801

…

Chinese. Either the Dominionists had gotten help, as they were known to be still on friendly terms with China, or everyone’s immediate assumptions were wrong, and the Empire of China had decided to wage war across the world, in a way that only England ever did. But why?

And rather than use superior weaponry, they’d brought hordes of Professionals. That’s why those mundane-clad troops huddling behind the high-tier team survived attacks from Myrl.

The Boss’ brother is going to get his wish with serious Professional forces after this one, she thought.

At least for now, the team were evenly matched. Higher levels on the other’s side, but five against four for her. It would boil down to whichever’s healer ran dry first, since it didn’t look like they had enough to overwhelm the healing.

And, of course, Blair could always exchange his mind for more aether. If his opposing number had not unlocked that aether-control skill… too bad for him. Habborlain was an almost endless well of healing unless they were facing a mind-attacking Legend.

Alton Raby grabbed Jonathan by the collar before the Defender could make a mistake. The stand-in-front-of-enemy reflex was good in the Labyrinth, but in these circumstances, it was the wrong thing.

The pack of nearly thirty soldiers ran past the street opening, heading further into London.

“Mundanes?” Alton asked, needlessly. He was already guessing the right answer.

“I can’t see a Potentials descriptor,” Jonathan admitted.

“So, they’re all Professionals and your Gauge Enemy is too low,” Alton said.

“They don’t look like Professionals,” Jonathan argued.

“Looks got nothing to do. Unless your Adjustment Milestone suddenly doesn’t work on foreigners…”

Jonathan winced.

“Okay, it also worked on those French guards. I’m guessing the Chinese have different gear.”

“Doesn’t matter how well geared they are. There’s two of us, and too many of them.”

Alton suddenly swore, “and put back those swords in their Puppet. You’re standing out. Maybe they lack Adjustment and they need Gauge Enemy to figure out if we’re Professionals or civilians, but that rune-sword of yours is a give-away if dual-wielding those isn’t enough.”

Jonathan sighed, but the two swords vanished back into the Labyrinth gear storage container hidden safely in his pocket.

“Good. Now we can look like hapless refugees and hope nobody…”

Alton stopped as a massive feeling passed. He risked a look from the safety of the small side street and spotted the ones whose Presence had alarmed him. A high-tier team, a defender in full armour of shining gilded plate, with a pair of swords with red and blue lights at his sides, a woman in white-and-blue robes holding a staff that, even from a distance, seemed to be made of separate elements with some kind of head, a leather-clad woman with no obvious weapons, a man holding a book that seemed to radiate strange colours in the air trailing behind it.

He ducked back just in time, as a small troop of additional enemy soldiers marched on, following the Chinese team.

“See. That’s why we stay out of sight. Only two of us and we’re not going to last five seconds against that kind of team.”

“What now?” Jonathan asked.

“We must find the others. I spotted Laura and Ira’s health shifting earlier, but it’s been back at full for a few minutes, so I guess they made it. Jonas seems okay as well.”