Manila, November 2056

  “I heard this world’s humans use enchantments on some of their walkways to mitigate the heat and humidity.”

  “Some? Tch… backworld savages. Haven’t they advanced to the point of being able to fix that with a climate controller? It’s been over 30 of their cycles since the spires appeared. What are they even doing?”

  “They’ve wasted their chance. We won’t. We’ll make this land a better place.”

  “There’s also the whole Terminus World thing and our obligations to the Radiance That Walks. Can’t forget about that.”

  “Bitterness doesn’t belong on your tongue.”

  “Well, pardon if I find this fruit’s taste unappealing. Simeht claims justice and yet she calls on our oaths to make war on those that offered us no violence. These humans do not even know of our existence.”

  The argument droned on, becoming background noise in Notyra’s ears.

  She longed to mute the voices of her squad, but her helmet’s functions weren’t fully under her control.

  The ride in the Talonstriker’s warrior compartment was, as always, smooth as her skin.

  It skimmed a short distance from the ground, covering grass-covered ground quickly.

  She barely felt the rising and falling sensations as they quickly closed on their target city to the south.

  A sudden jolt broke her reverie and the argument.

  “Mines and artillery fire. Shields holding. Prepare for stasis mode,” the pilot said.

  Their individual compartments would keep them completely invulnerable to most types of damage for the brief duration before the enchanted mechanism burned out. So long as the humans weren’t using esoteric armaments that attacked their souls or spirits.

  “Move out!”

  Her squad leader’s voice snapped her out of the stasis.

  She emerged from her pod in a crouch, sweeping her stinger across the gray road for threats.

  Foliage in the form of trees providing shade from the solar heat of the day lined the sides closer to the structures and the center of the wide street.

  Even though it was night she felt comfortable.

  The city was more suited to her than the cooler rainforest she had spent several days traveling through.

  Perhaps, after they had pacified the population she would take time to explore.

  That was the best part of traveling in her opinion.

  The chance to see how thinking cultures differed across the spires worlds.

  “Enemy sighted!”

  Fire erupted from the far end of the street.

  Deployable barriers of dark gray metal and blue magic energy made good cover for their enemies.

  Her squad’s defenders raised their own barriers as they returned fire with their stingers, spells and Skills.

  “Notyra!”

  Her squad leader grinned, revealing sharp teeth capped with a rainbow of metals.

  “You have our support. Plow the field.”

  She didn’t hesitate to run into the enemy fire.

  Spells and Skills absorbed or deflected everything as she gained speed.

  “Avalanche Run.”

  Her Skill pushed her faster as if she was running down a steep slope.

  Rolling boulders appeared in her wake.

  She slowed as she neared the enemy barriers, allowing her avalanche to soften them up.

  “Big Horns.”

  She finished them off.

  Her twin horns grew fourfold as she lowered her head and rammed through the last remaining barrier.

  Then, she was in the enemy’s midst.

  Thumb pressed the stinger’s button as she swept her right arm across the enemy.

  “Big Claws.”

  Her left hand cleaved across her other side.

  She lowered her head and gored an enemy in his thigh with normal-sized horns.

  They had intel on the Earth humans.

  The dull gray armor covering their heads and torsos would’ve been difficult to penetrate even with her high level abilities.

  Luckily, the rest of their armor wasn’t nearly as good.

  The skirmish ended quickly with the arrival of the rest of her squad.

  “Prisoners?”

  “If they surrender.”

  “The wounded?”

  “Triage.”

  Notyra gazed down at the carnage they had wrought on the Earth humans.

  Not many prisoners from the looks of it.

  A young-looking human female stared at her with unblinking eyes.

  Some had called her strange for once stating that she preferred the accusations from the living to those from the dead.

  Doubly so when they had died at her horns.

  “Secure them. Then we move to our tar—”

  Notyra’s world suddenly spun.

  Gray street, colorful structure sign, exploding night sky.

  Her last sight before it went black was her own armored hooves.

  …

  Cardo flicked his kampilan free of blood.

  “Red like ours.”

  “Like their skin color.”

  “They’re not all red. I see a few grays.”

  “I got a pink one over here.”

  “Doesn’t hurt my devil theory.”

  “They aren’t literal devils.”

  “Red skin? Check. Horns? Double check. Hooves? Triple check.”

  “They don’t all have horns and/or hooves. This one has feet that sorta look like dog paws.”

  “I kinda don’t care what they call themselves.”

  “Everyone calls themselves ‘people’ anyways.”

  Cardo would’ve preferred prisoners.

  It didn’t sit well with him to kill all their enemies.

  Outworld invaders or not.

  However, this squad was strong. High level and well-drilled from what they had observed through the cams.

  Killing them had been a necessity.

  Is what he told himself to silence that pesky conscience.

  The cultivator had chosen this life.

  Trained hard since he was eight.

  Worked harder since he was eighteen.

  Now, here he was a few years later and closing in on Level 40.

  A meteoric rise akin to his secret personal hero.

  It wasn’t like he was a disciple or anything like that.

  She didn’t do that sort of thing.

  Mostly, she had taught a few of his classes when he was younger and sparred a few times when he proved worth the time.

  Honestly, he had always gotten the impression that she was being forced to do those things.

  He stared down at the sightless eyes visible through helmet slits.

  The not-devil woman he had beheaded in a single stroke.

  Luck.

  He had put everything he could into the cut.

  Chi, Skills and the blade’s keen-edge enchantment.

  Whether the horned woman had Skills, inherent magical defenses or was just that tough, he’d never know and that made him just a little sad.

  He couldn’t help but think of the kind of insights he could learn from her to incorporate into his own techniques.

  The illusion mage’s vomiting interrupted his thoughts.

  Another all in.

  The woman’s spell had given them the crucial opening strike on every single member of the enemy squad.

  It had made a potentially perilous fight into a quick and violent one.

  The enemy had been caught so completely off-guard that they hadn’t been able to use big spells or Skills, like the horned woman’s rock run.

  “We’ve got our next target. Water plant.” The squad leader said.

  The second ambush didn’t start as well as the first on account of having to send the illusion mage back for treatment before her brain melted out of her eyes and nose.

  Cardo squeezed chi-infused flechettes from his recoilless pistol.

  His most prized possession.

  Custom built to fit his hand like it had been in his hand from the moment he popped out of his mother’s womb.

  A reward from standing with Mrs. Cruces against the insane Soul Mangler at a school sport’s festival day as she shielded over a hundred children.

  It was totally worth having a quarter of his soul mangled and the three month recovery.

  That and the levels and Skills… and the whole saving kids from the same fate.

  Yeah.

  The latter was the true reward.

  His flechettes pierced the not-devil’s armor like a thing unto Threnium… except a lot more powerful.

  The chi-explosion inside their bodies was also pretty powerful.

  However, they were tough and most could keep fighting despite the damage.

  He flash-stepped behind a group firing needle-like projectiles from the pulsing bio-mechanical gauntlet implanted over their arm.

  Kampilan flicked out as he danced in their frantic midst.

  Chi flechettes exploded in faces and in faces.

  Claws suddenly enlarged, slashing.

  He parried.

  They turned ethereal in a split-second, phasing through blade and chest armor.

  Only enhanced cultivator reflexes saved him.

  The not-devil liked suddenly normal-sized claws.

  His blood was indistinguishable from his.

  “Tastes like human.” The not-devil grinned.

  “Hammertime!”

  An over-sized hammer shot through the air like a cannonball, obliterating the not-devil regardless of his fancy-looking armor.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem, Cards! Let’s—”

  Eyes went skyward.

  A deep voice boomed.

  “Spirit Inferno Downburst!”

  Despite the Threnium armor and its defensive systems.

  Despite his cultivator abilities.

  Despite everything to give him a chance.

  Cardo screamed from pain unlike anything he had ever experienced.

  Not even the Soul Mangler’s touch had—

  …

  Olicurc eyed his handiwork with a wince.

  “I might have put too much mana into that one, Sharmartan.”

  His furry familiar chittered at him from her perch on his shoulder.

  When had she—

  “I told you it’s not safe.”

  He grabbed her despite her protests and tucked her back into her protective pouch inside his battle robes.

  Sharmartan wasn’t a battle-type and didn’t really have much optimal use. However, he didn’t care. She was a cute little thing that had been with him since he was a boy and her cute antics never failed to make him laugh when in the springtime of his mood and make him smile when his moods were mired in their winter.

  He directed his flying chariot with his will.

  The burning wheel at the end of the yoke in front of him flared brighter and spun faster as he gained altitude to avoid fire from ground and the buildings.

  “An artificial jungle they said,” he mused.

  Not at all like his homeland where structures were built to synergize with the natural world.

  “I prefer our ways.”

  Sharmartan's chittered despite being muffled.

  “They are objectively superior. Can’t you smell the poisons in the air? In the very construction of these ugly gray blocks… well… there are some that are pleasingly colorful and I do like the way they’ve created pockets of green shade and with trees. But… that only covers the lifeless gray slightly.”

  “Olicurc, you motherless—”

  “Ah! That doesn’t sound like a ‘thank you for saving our lives’.”

  “The pain—”

  “Means that you are alive, doesn’t it? You certainly looked moments away from being un-alive. You live. They don’t. So, you’re very welcome.”

  He regarded the battlefield on the ground and in the sky hidden within the cloaking enchantment.

  “Ugly things…”

  Dark daggers in the sky filled the night with bright flashes and brighter beams.

  His people’s sky forces had joined together with the wing-armed women and things didn’t seem to be going well.

  The looming immensity of the enemy skyships oppressed the spirit.

  “Curse you, devils!” he muttered. “Why do they fight against progress, Sharmartan?”

  She chittered a long string of chitters.

  “The work to bring order and justice to this land will take the toil of generations. That is true.”

  Despite it being Terminus World he didn’t believe as the more cynical of his people did. That the work was impossible and ultimately futile. That it was better to unleash civilization enders.

  “We simply need to have hope and belief in the truth that civilization always triumphs over barbarism when given time. Progress can only be slowed and never stopped, after all.”

  He spied tiny shapes flying in the distance.

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  Sleek armor powered by tiny thrusters in the back and boots.

  He would’ve thought them children based on their size, but he knew better.

  Fellow people from another world, but allied with the wrong people.

  “It’s a shame. The inherent and necessary violence of conflict.” He sighed, touching the tiny icon around his neck. “Simeht, grant me the strength to shine your radiance upon the less fortunate. May we bring them into your warm light.” He patted the soft lump in his battle robes. “We shall strike after they fly past us, Sharmartan.”

  She chittered.

  “What? You hear a sound?”

  He eyed the device keeping him cloaked from sight.

  The indicators were all yellow and rapidly turning red.

  Smoke began to leak from the small cube attached to the side control panel.

  “Ah… fuck…”

  He fired seekers and cut levitation, leaving his stomach to catch up to the rest of him.

  The flying enemy fired blasts and their own seekers.

  He zipped around the corner of a large tower of ugly glass and gray, breaking sight.

  “We’ll go over and try to use the show of lights to hide our diving attack, Sharmartan. How does that sou—”

  Thunder cracked his chariot’s magic shield and threw him against the side.

  Five thunders struck.

  Olicurc only registered three before he stopped registering anything at all.

  …

  “Nice one, Ayrica! Shot that horned buttlicker out of the sky!”

  “Took my entire mag.” Ayrica reloaded. “What do you think? Time to relocate?”

  “I’ll check in and see what area’s good to hunt in.”

  Ayrica nodded at her childhood friend.

  He watched her back and sometimes helped spot her snipes.

  They were taking a risk going out this night as freelance contractors.

  Sure, they could’ve signed up with the defense force or tried that super hard test to get into some kind of super secret elite program, but going independent made more sense in regards to levels and better Quest rewards.

  As everyone knew, the harder the challenge overcome the better everything one got after was.

  The drawback was less logistical support from the government.

  Not that they were stingy in emergencies.

  Like, say, a war battle thing.

  Horned devils.

  She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised.

  An infinite amount of spires worlds meant an infinite amount of humanoid species out there and that wasn’t counting the non humanoids.

  She certainly appreciated the Threnium helmet with a full suite of the best systems a sniper could ask for. Not to mention the lightweight Threnium body armor that felt like wearing normal clothes. More importantly, it kept her cool and dry in the heat and humidity.

  Then there was the special ammo they had given her.

  Without which she wouldn’t have been able to shoot through that devil’s magic shields.

  She decided it was worth trying to keep what she could. Or, maybe she could buy it with the points she planned to earn for as long as the battle lasted.

  Hopefully, it didn’t end too quickly.

  Teo caught her eye.

  “They said we’re good to keep hunting in this section.”

  “Find Profitable Sniping Grounds.”

  Her heart pulsed.

  The answer came a few seconds later.

  “Show me city map. Um… Manila map.”

  She was still getting used to the helmet’s interface.

  “Send to Teo.”

  “Section 12?”

  She shrugged.

  “That’s what my Skill suggests.”

  “But, it says that twelve’s a low threat area right now.”

  There wasn’t much there down closer to the bay.

  A handful of people might’ve lived in some of the homes, but the mandatory evacuation had cleared them out a few days ago.

  “You haven’t misfired yet since you got that Skill.” Teo shrugged. “I say let’s head over.”

  He took the lead as they left the roof and descended the stairs.

  The building was empty, but not abandoned.

  That was an important distinction in regards to its monster producing situation.

  Boots echoed on the concrete.

  Teo froze partway down.

  Her yell was cut off by him grabbing her wrist and yanking her down the steps behind him.

  The buckler in his hand flared, expanding into a large round shield of translucent blue light. The machine pistol in his left barked up the steps.

  Ayrica winced reflexively, but remembered she had a helmet with auditory protections.

  Instead, she stuffed her sniper rifle into her bag of holding in exchange for an automatic carbine.

  She couldn’t get a shot past Teo.

  He cried out with pain as he fell back, crushing her against the concrete wall.

  “What is—” she got out before her childhood friend shoved her over the railing.

  “Run! I’ll keep him busy!”

  His last words.

  Five floors down to ground level.

  She activated her feather fall ring at the last possible moment and hit the ground running.

  “Help! I’m— shit! I’m here!” She pinged her location to whoever was listening on the other end of the emergency channel. “Me and my friend were attacked by unknown enemy. He’s holding it off. Please send help quickly!”

  “We hear you. Quick response team in route. Can you tell me anything about the enemy that attacked you and your friend, Ayrica?”

  “I didn’t get a look. I don’t know. Fast and strong, I think.”

  Teo was a big guy and it had felt like he got pushed back pretty hard.

  “I—”

  Glass shattered, showering her in harmless shards.

  She screamed as a dark shape fell with a sickening thud.

  “Teo—”

  Was dead.

  Crimson pooled around him quickly.

  She couldn’t see his face behind the dark faceplate.

  A shadow stared down at her from a broken fifth floor window.

  “It killed my friend! It sees me!”

  “Okay. Stay calm. You need to break contact. Follow this route.”

  An arrow appeared in her HUD, along with a dotted line in her minimap.

  Ayrica ran.

  She got as far as two streets before a shadow fell upon her.

  “Your night ends here, farshot.”

  …

  Cirle cracked his neck from side to side.

  The big Earth human had struck him well upside his helmet with that interesting glove weapon.

  A fist that shoots out with explosive power, but with only a few centimeters range.

  He would need to go back and loot the corpse.

  The much smaller Earth human at his feet was less interesting from a looting standpoint.

  Farshooters weren’t unique.

  Although, it might be worth taking hers for study and comparison.

  One never knew where knowledge might be found.

  Their armor had been marked for looting if possible to take in a safe manner.

  He’d have to mark both their locations.

  One didn’t stop to loot while in a battlezone.

  He spread his cape and glided up to the rooftops and took a few moments to assess what the two kills had given him.

  “Not much in terms of points. No level.”

  Disappointing, but not surprising.

  It had been easy.

  The farshot must’ve received superior ammunition from a higher level source.

  She had lacked the strength to bring down Olicurc with the ease he had observed.

  His living cape shivered.

  A split-second warning was enough.

  It wrapped tightly around him as he dived off the roof just ahead of the explosion.

  The side space was narrow and devoid of cover.

  He could run, but why?

  That’s what the enemy expected.

  Perhaps, an ambush awaited him or a trap?

  He decided to surprise them by attacking.

  Cirle burst out of the side space with the added boost from his living cape.

  He sprayed with his stinger and cast a wave of shadow in his surprised pursuer’s faces.

  Then he was in their midst.

  Armor impenetrable to physical attacks proved useless against his spirit blades.

  “Twin Curves of The Two-eyed Moons.”

  He appreciated the poetry of slaying his enemies under the pale white curve in their sky.

  The curved blades blurred in his hands as he allowed the Skill to dance him through the enemy formation.

  They fell behind him.

  Dead limbs or just dead.

  Seven enemy claimed in less than two seconds.

  He slashed serpent quick into the broad lower chest of the last one.

  Only to have his arm jarred.

  Like hitting a wall.

  That shouldn’t have been possible with a spirit blade.

  Cirle leapt back and twisted away from a shower of glistening darts.

  His living cape thrust against the ground and launched him toward the rooftops.

  Halfway there and he suddenly dropped.

  His cape writhed.

  Its black surface glinted under the lights.

  “Needles…”

  “Trample Charge!”

  Cirle was high level.

  He lasted minutes.

  Even struck his enemy with many weapons pulled from his bag of holding.

  Yet, the cloth armor covering the massive mountain of stout muscle turned everything aside.

  …

  “This is Brukhert. We have suffered grievous casualties. Many dead. Many injured. What am I to do?”

  He felt the slick blood of the invader on his hooves.

  It made him nauseous.

  The scent of violence in the air had already put him on edge, but he needed to fight to defend his adopted home regardless of his personal reluctance.

  “It’s going to take time to get a team out to you, Brukhert. You’re going to have to move who you can because you’ve got enemy incoming.”

  “Unfortunate. What of the young ones we were meant to rescue?”

  “Sorry. No life signs. All black.”

  He eyed his team.

  “Doubly unfortunate. The invader wielded ethereal blades. I believe he cut through the armor. That is to say. Some of my team have lost the use of their limbs.”

  “You’re going to have to carry them.”

  He saw the enemy flying low in the distance.

  Too fast and too close.

  “That doesn’t appear possible.”

  “You—”

  “Don’t mistake me. I can’t carry them away because I am not fast enough to escape pursuit. Instead, I will engage the enemy and defeat them. If not, then I will at least lead them away from my team.” He regarded the fallen. “I will not fail you, my two legged brothers and sisters.”

  He had his seamster Skills and his back-mounted lead spitter and shield maker.

  The latter two had come a long way from the original work of his people.

  Their allies had aided them in creating upgrades.

  No longer did the spitter spit mere lead.

  Shields made many times stronger.

  And he found the sleek aesthetics infinitely more pleasing to the eye than his people’s brutal functionality.

  He had always been an odd one amongst his kind.

  The herd fathers mocked him.

  The herd mothers forced him.

  It was only when they had come to this new world had he found true freedom amongst the two-legged soft ones.

  He had thrived in his truth, which meant his class had reached heights beyond what he and the herd mothers had expected.

  Sadly, the story of life was the story of violence.

  And thus, he fought.

  To thank his allies for their welcome.

  No.

  Not just allies.

  Two species, but one people.

  This he knew in his hearts.

  A controversial topic amongst the great herd, but what did he care of their thoughts?

  For what the Earthians had given him, he’d give anything.

  Brukhert thundered down the road, scattering dark gray road chips and dust in his wake.

  He was no true warrior, but all in the herd learned to fight even if an individual refused to level a combat class.

  He began weaving as he galloped with thick, brutish fingers that moved with grace and dexterity.

  Many needles pulled thread in a rainbow of colors from the many bags of holding at his flanks.

  Giant flags fluttered in the still air, covering from rooftop to rooftop, from building corner to building corner until his team was covered with his magic cloth.

  The enemy drew near.

  Lead spitter spat.

  Flak shells that exploded into clouds of hot shrapnel.

  Shield maker saved.

  Blue-white light encircled him in a dome absorbing the enemy attack.

  Not-devils in the night sky, borne aloft on leathery wings and magic.

  They flew through the flak with minor damage.

  But, they didn’t see his needles until it was too late.

  Level 47 magical seamster.

  Stronger than most of them from the looks of it.

  His needles pierced their leathery wings or their flesh, weaving his thread into them.

  He wrapped them inside tight cocoons to plummet into the ground or buildings.

  Thundering forward, he trampled the ones that fell to the street.

  He weaved nets in their flight paths.

  Too close and too quick for them to evade.

  He weaved thin, but strong lines that took heads.

  But the battle wasn’t one sided.

  Shield maker failed.

  Fire singed his magical clothing despite its strong defensive quality.

  A cutting blade of absence cut through his rainbow-colored mantle, slicing tough skin and thick muscle, only stopping on stout ribs.

  The thrower dived toward Brukhert.

  Cutting blades scored his body, making ribbons out of his colorful attire.

  Crimson rivers began to flow down his pale gray hide.

  He reared up and lashed out with his front hooves while directing flying needles with his hands like a conductor in the musical shows he so enjoyed.

  The horned enemy swept in on a mighty flap, blocking his stomping hooves on a golden shield that suddenly appeared on one arm.

  With the other he thrust out a golden spear out of nothing that pierced straight through Brukhert’s thickly muscled lower chest and into his lower heart.

  His legs buckled.

  Needles swarmed the enemy from both sides, forcing him to flap backward.

  Brukhert’s upper heart pulsed faster and faster, struggling to make up for the loss of the lower one.

  He lowered his head.

  His horns where much thicker than the winged enemy’s.

  “Charge!” he roared.

  The enemy spun, blinding him with one dark wing brushed over his face.

  “Heart’s Death Thrust.”

  …

  Yton wiped his golden spear on the huge four-legged one’s colorful clothes.

  “I don’t know you, warrior, but know that the story of this battle shall be shared.”

  It was a must.

  A warrior that had slain or maimed all of his talon flight deserved no less.

  For only a great one could have brought them down.

  “I only wish I could know your story.”

  They weren’t native to this world.

  Traitors to the Gods they served to side with the primitive natives.

  That was all he knew.

  Not nearly enough.

  Perhaps, it could be a useful story to wield against those among his people that sought for a similar relationship to Simeht as the four-legs once had with their God.

  He turned his gaze farther down the gray road to the lone splash of color in this drab, lifeless section of the city.

  A giant box of colorful cloth protecting more of the enemy.

  The ones Cirle had felled.

  “I warned you about overconfidence.”

  He shook his head at the wasted potential.

  The calculation of this particular engagement weren’t in his people’s favor.

  Both in numbers and levels lost against taken.

  He needed to finish the remainder to bring things closer to his side.

  A flap of his wings carried him down the street.

  The cloth walls shook at his spear thrust, but held.

  Yton forced more energy into the subsequent strikes until he finally succeeded in tearing through.

  His chest heaved and his heart raced beneath his light armor.

  Luckily for him Cirle had crippled the enemy.

  “Gonna kill wounded? That’s really low. I wasn’t going to kill your wounded.”

  Yton spun.

  A tearing sound caused him to lash out with his spear blindly.

  Less nerves in his wings wasn’t the same as no nerves.

  A quick glance revealed a long slice that started near the middle joint all the way down to the bottom.

  “Can you still fly with that? I figure you don’t fly with just your wings. Surface area to weight ratio is all wrong. Probably need some kind of inherent magic. Wind? Anti-gravity? That’s what it usually is for similar… I was going to say monsters, but that’s messed up.”

  The speaker was a lithe Earth human male completely covered in sleek dark gray armor.

  Yton grew wary instantly.

  This Earth human’s armor was full coverage unlike the other warriors he had seen and battled over the course of the battle.

  “Elite champion, by chance? If so, a lucky encounter for me.”

  Strangely, the human’s armored hands were empty.

  “Champion battles champion. As it should be. As your leaders rejected in their cowardice.”

  “You’re outworld invaders. You don’t get to dictate shitballs.”

  The dark faceplate revealed nothing, so Yton was caught by surprise when tiny seekers erupted from the human’s shoulders.

  He trusted his armor’s enchantment to shield him.

  Thick smoke clouded his vision.

  A flash of red to his left.

  Instant Block with his shield.

  Reflexive Counterthrust!

  Golden spear on red flash.

  Lightning arced across his armor.

  He forced through with a grunt.

  Weakened.

  Low on mana.

  Stamina drained.

  The four-legged behemoth was still hurting him from beyond the Great Dark.

  Red eyes set much wider than an Earth human’s in the smoke seared burning lines across his helmet, finding the gap and scorching his flesh from nose to chin.

  Wind Gust cleared the smoke to reveal the human wielding a thick, leaf-shaped single-edged blade and a small round shield, both made of opaque red light.

  Yton thrust.

  The human lunged under, deflecting the golden spear with his shield and aiming a chopping cut to Yton’s knee.

  The drawback of an extreme height advantage.

  Yton pulled back, but the red eye on each side the human’s helmet glared into his own.

  Blinded, he fell back further, sweeping his spear and protecting his head with his shield.

  Sudden and searing pain cut into his armored thigh.

  Then into his armored chest a moment later.

  “That’s for Brukhert.”

  Yton was already blinded.

  Now, it began to darken into black.

  “Man just wanted to make clothes.”

  The Earth human pulled his red blade free from Yton’s armored chest and—

  …

  Noli swept his barong across the winged not-devil’s neck.

  Armored collar didn’t stop his power created blade.

  Lots of practice and hard work meant that he could make it thinner than a molecule.

  “Brukhert’s down. He got a lot of them. Some are still alive. I’m not helping them since I’m standing guard over our guys until the evac gets here.”

  “We hear you. Evac team is five minutes away. And Mrs. Cruces wants to talk to you.”

  Damn it!

  “Yeah, Tita?”

  “Noli, you’re out of your assigned section.”

  His dad’s cousin.

  One he had only met in person for the first time a little over a year ago.

  It was a long story dating back to when the spires had first appeared.

  Dad was a kid visiting a family owned farm in Mindanao.

  Boom! Spires!

  Dad ended up with the Moros.

  Dad met mom.

  Family thought dead found Dad.

  Dad had no interest in fighting beyond what he needed to do to protect his new family.

  Noli born 18 years ago.

  Flying cousins visited over the years.

  Filled his mind with ‘thoughts’ according to Dad, whatever that meant.

  Much arguing.

  Noli left to fight for more than just a farming village.

  “Sorry, Tita. I had to help Brukhert and the others. Try… I had to try. Failed.”

  “There will be time to mourn later. For now, go to the nearest base. Reload and have your armor checked for damage. Remember to drink as much of the nutrient drink as you can force down. It’s going to be a long fight. You’ll need the energy.”

  Huh?

  That sounded more encouraging and less scolding.

  “Yes, Tita. I will.”