Jasper let out a piercing cry that shattered one of the newly reanimated tables’ legs. He danced backward, parrying a thrust of the monster’s other leg, then sending a riposte to chip away at the table’s surface. Meanwhile, he continued stamp his feet in a rhythm so he could keep [Accelerating Crescendo] active. That, along with his above average agility and dexterity, gave him ample ability to avoid any lethal attacks the table might bring to bear.

But he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Without Zeke to tip the scales in their favor, the trio of combatants were slowly being overwhelmed by the suddenly reanimated furniture. Nearby, Eta had encased herself in a multitude of thorns, each one dripping with poison, as she methodically battled another table. The poison was useless, but the thorns were more effective than Jasper’s rapier.

Just past her was Silik, who was, miraculously, doing just fine. Suffused with white light, the giant kobold was strong and durable enough that he didn’t even need [Spear of Memories] to damage the animated furniture. He ripped through a chair, his claws tearing through its upholstery and sending stuffing flying through the air. He followed it up by bringing his clenched fists down on the seat with a thunderous blow. Its legs shattered, and it collapsed to the ground.

However, the momentous strike, while effective, had left him open to airborne attacks. A flock of reborn books swooped in, clamping down on his unprotected back and ripping huge chunks of flesh away. He spun around, trying to swat them from the sky, but he was too slow, and the angle was far too awkward.

Perhaps if he’d had his spear in hand, he’d have fared better. But it lay on the ground, discarded because it was an entirely ineffective weapon against the furniture.

It only took Jasper a moment to take in the state of the battle, and he quickly realized that, if they were going to stand any chance of making it out alive, he would have to reveal one of his hidden cards.

Not an easy choice, given the fact that, aside from Zeke, he didn’t trust any of them. With his life, perhaps, but not with his secrets. He parried another attack from the table, then once again used [Dissonance] to slow his assailant down. The ear-splitting shout didn’t shatter the leg as it had before, but it did carry with it enough force to knock the animated table briefly off-balance.

That gave Jasper the opening he needed.

With the echo of [Dissonance] still hanging in the air, he altered the pattern of his rhythmic steps, took a deep breath, and sang. There were no words. Instead, his voice was like a symphony, and it carried with it deadly magic.

[Siren’s Song] was Jasper’s most complicated skill, largely because it required more than a simple beat or a piercing cry. Instead, it had taken him years to master the perfect combination of tones that would best compliment the skill. Such effort wasn’t strictly necessary. The skill would work with even the most basic of chants. However, as with all his other skills, the power varied based on his performance. For instance, [Rhythm of War] could be activated with a simple series of snaps, but doing so would only bring out a fraction of its power. By comparison, if he had an actual drum – like the tiny one he’d once carried on his belt – it was at least three times more effective, and it had the added benefit of costing a good deal less mana.

The same could be said for all of his abilities, including [Siren’s Song]. He had spent years perfecting the accompanying performance, and the effort showed when it took effect.

His target, the wounded table before him, suddenly stopped, and a moment later, a budding awareness suddenly bloomed in Jasper’s mind. It was primitive and limited, but there was enough for Jasper’s purposes. With a flick of his thoughts, he ordered his enthralled minion to attack one of the animated chairs surrounding Eta.

It obeyed his orders.

Aside from one instance when he’d first acquired the skill, Jasper had yet to meet any being that could resist [Siren’s Song]. And he’d used it on monsters, people, and everything in between. Of course, he’d never attempted it on anyone truly powerful, and if he had his way, he never would. The price of failure was too great.

The table plunged forward without any regard for its own odd life, crashing into its former allies with unrestrained fervor. The animated furniture had dubious self-preservation instincts at the best of times, but under the effects of [Siren’s Song], it only knew – or cared about – Jasper’s command to attack.

And attack it did.

Even with their limited intelligence, the monsters knew enough to rely on their allies. So, when one suddenly turned against them, they had no notion of how to react. Still, it was one against many, and the bespelled table wouldn’t last long after its former companions recovered from the sudden betrayal.

But it was the distraction Eta needed to turn the tide of battle in her favor. Her thorns grew, some of them reaching more than two feet long, and she launched herself into the mass of enemies. When Jasper added his own sword to the mix – all the while keeping [Siren’s Song] active – the mix of reanimated tables and chairs fell before their combined efforts.

Still, it was no easy fight, and it took long minutes before Jasper, using his rapier like a lumberjack’s axe, hacked the last chair apart.

He whipped his head around to find Silik. Initially, he’d chosen to help Eta because she was in the most danger. Or at least that was what he told himself. In reality, his decision was based on the fact that she was a person, while Silik, for all his seeming intelligence, was still just a monster.

Probably.

The line had become incredibly blurred, and Jasper wasn’t certain about how to categorize the kobolds. But in any case, whether it was the result of prejudice or good judgement, Jasper had made his choice. And Silik had clearly suffered for it.

The giant kobold was on his last legs, with huge chunks of his scaley body missing. Blood pooled on the ground as the flock of books danced in the air. Silik aimed one [Spear of Memories] after another at the flying monsters, but they were far too quick for that strategy to be effective. As Jasper watched, one of the books detached from the flock, circled Silik, then dove in to take another bite out of him.

The kobold was defenseless.

Until Eta raised her hands, using some skill Jasper had never seen. After only a second, a thorny bush jutted from the ground and, over the next few moments, grew around Silik’s kneeling form, encasing him in a dense maze of branches and sharp thorns. In seconds, he was completely enclosed in the living cocoon.

For a few seconds, Jasper could only watch in awe.

“That battle is not finished!” screamed Eta, shaking him from his stupor.

Shaking his head, Jasper turned and dispatched the table he’d ensorcelled. It was already on the verge of death, so it only took a few quick hacks with his sword before he could turn his attention on the flock of books.

With his target dead, he let [Siren’s Song] lapse, then switched back to [Accelerating Crescendo]. With enhanced agility singing through him, he darted forward and, with a leap, came within range of the first book. His rapier pierced it through, yet it did not die. Instead, as gravity reasserted itself on Jasper’s body, the monster yanked itself from the blade and flapped away.

Jasper hit the floor in a roll, coming gracefully to his feet. However, by that point, some of the books had peeled off from the larger flock to harass him. Knowing that he couldn’t stand up the same sort of abuse Silik had endured, Jasper defended as best he could. His rapier blurred as he tried to counter the swooping attacks.

But he was only one dark elf.

And there were so many of the monstrous books.

After only a few seconds, he took his first wound. Only a moment later, he took a second. And a third. He tried to fight on, but it was useless. Every additional injury slowed him down a little more, and soon enough, he fell. Still, he fought, yet in the back of his mind, he knew he was on borrowed time.

He would fall.

They all would.

Jasper cried out, losing his rhythm as one of the monster’s latched onto his thigh. As he curled into a ball, the books fell upon him, their sharp teeth ripping chunks from him with every passing second. He could no longer defend himself. He could only wait for death.

Suddenly, a source of heat bloomed behind him. He was in so much pain that he barely registered it, but when he finally did, he also realized that the attacks had stopped. With no small degree of difficulty, Jasper unclenched his muscles and turned his head toward the heat source.

And he saw burning books.

However, it was no normal fire that had set them ablaze. Instead, it was deep red, with tendrils of black flame woven through it.

“Hellfire,” he croaked.

Shifting, he saw a scene that brought tears to his eyes.

Pudge had somehow found them, and he’d fallen upon the books with bestial fury. A huge claw manifested, swiping through the air with enough speed that the flock had no time to react before it hit. Some of them were slammed to the floor, but others were ripped to shreds by the destructive skill. A second later, Pudge pounced. With hands wreathed in hellfire, he tore through the books with frightening ease, and in scant moments, only a few remained in the air.

Sasha took care of those via quickly cast bolts of lightning. None of them were enough to kill the books. Indeed, the monsters were only stunned. But that brief shock was enough to cancel whatever magic held them aloft. They plummeted to the ground where Pudge made quick work of them.

Only a handful of seconds after Jasper had come to terms with his own death, the library – or what was left of it after a pair of furious battles – fell silent.

The first one to react was Eta, who, with a gesture, used a skill. A second later, her healing flower – Jasper had never learned the skill’s name – bloomed, casting out an aura of desperately needed regeneration. The living cocoon around Silik crumbled into dust that quickly became motes of mana, and the big kobold tumbled free.

He was barely alive.

But then again, Jasper wasn’t much better off. He tried to push himself upright, but he failed. Instead, he settled for dragging himself closer to the flower. He only got a foot or so before Pudge appeared by his side and dragged him next to the life-giving flower. Then, the bearkin did the same for Silik.

After a few seconds, Jasper asked, “How did you find us?”

His voice, which was usually a source of pride, came out in a croak.

Sasha said, “We didn’t. We just kept going until we got here.”

Upon closer inspection, neither Sasha nor Pudge looked particularly healthy. The bearkin was better off, but even he bore dozens of wounds. A few of them were particularly grizzly, and even with his thick fur, the red of exposed muscle was visible. Sasha, meanwhile, looked decidedly worse. Huge swaths of her white fur was missing, and she had more than a few wounds of her own. The two had clearly been tested, and yet, they’d still managed to arrive just in the nick of time.

“We owe you our lives,” Jasper said, the words preceding a furious coughing fit that ended with him spitting out quite a bit of blood. Internal injuries, no doubt. Still, he managed to add, “Thank you.”

Eta echoed his sentiment. She had endured the attacks better than anyone, so she was far better off than the rest. Yet, even she was clearly wounded, and deep gouges had been carved into her bark-like skin.

Silik was clearly the worst off, though, and he’d barely moved since Pudge had dragged him next to the flower.

“Is he going to survive?” Jasper asked.

“Perhaps,” was Eta’s reply. “Likely. He’s strong.”

That was indisputable. Without Silik, they’d have all died. If he hadn’t been there to occupy and distract the flock of books, there was no way Jasper and Eta could have made it. Still, Jasper had difficulty thinking of the kobold as a person.

And clearly, Eta knew it, judging by her accusatory stare. Or perhaps that was Jasper’s guilt coloring his own perception. After all, though he thought of it as a tactical move, the reality of his choice to help Eta was clear – at least in his own mind.

“Where is Zeke?” asked Pudge, his first contribution to the conversation. The bearkin was often silent, just like Silik. As a result, it was easy to think of them both as lacking in intelligence. They weren’t.

Eta answered by pointing to the now-closed door and explaining what had happened. When she’d finished, she said, “We tried to break through, but the door is indestructible.”

“I…I might be able to get it open,” Sasha said. “With help, at least.”

Jasper asked, “How?”

“You don’t sense it?” she asked. “The mana. I think…yeah – it’s part of the dungeon, but in a way, it’s not.”

“That makes no sense,” Jasper stated.

She shrugged. “I’m just not describing it well. The point is that I think I can manipulate the mana keeping that door closed. But when I do, I’m going to need someone to break through.”

“I will do it,” Pudge volunteered.

That was unsurprising. The bearkin was devoted to Zeke, but the feeling was mutual. The pair would move go to hell and back for one another.

Jasper wished someone – anyone – cared enough about him to do the same. As it was, his closest friend was Zeke, and that had, from the very beginning, been a relationship of convenience and circumstance. Perhaps they could one day become true friends, but that day had yet to come.

As for his own family? That was a subject best left unexplored.

“I fear I can offer no assistance,” Jasper said, gesturing to his ravaged body. “Unless you lead an enemy close, that is. If you do, I shall endeavor to stab its feet.”

Sasha said, “It’s fine. I think…”

“Rest,” said Pudge. “Heal. We will save Zeke.”

Then, he nodded to Sasha, who stood and faced the door. The ambient mana stirred, but Jasper saw no outward effect. Minutes passed with the boarkin girl staring at the door, but when nothing happened, Jasper let himself collapse to the floor as the healing flower did its work.

He wanted to help, but he couldn’t even stand, much less offer anyone aid.

Then again, neither Pudge nor Sasha seemed much better off, and they hadn’t hesitated. Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned there.