Phuong sprinted along the northern ramparts, purple Spirit Blade humming in his fist. He didn’t need it yet, but it made him feel better. There were demons everywhere now. They could sense him. Sense his soul. And he wanted nothing more to go down and let them try to take it.
But he had a city to defend. Even if he wasn’t technically in charge.
The holy city’s walls were a madhouse of shouting players, scrambling militia civilians, and the occasional panicked idiot who had absolutely no business being there. Phuong tried not to be annoyed with Chinua. The man was competent, but he should have been ready for all possibilities. He should have assumed something would go wrong and plan for it.
“Martial law is in immediate effect!” He roared, voice carrying with a little system-boosted flair from the civilian announcer at his side. “Non-combat civilians—get yourselves to the buildings or your homes. To designated militia—start using the ballista, or make something that kills, and stay with the players on the walls!”
A thousand or more civilians heard him and started to move. Phuong still couldn’t believe the numbers in the holy city. Alchemists, builders, craftsmen, and at least one very determined fisherman with a crossbow, were hauling crates of alchemical grenades and mana potions up the stairs like it was the yearly sale at their apocalypse market.
A young civilian—a pretty dark-haired girl with a Crafter tag—tripped right in front of him and his team. His son (Hieu, now a scout) caught her elbow, and steadied her. They both went red as the boy gave her a quick once-over.
“You, uh, O-OK?”
She nodded and smiled, then stared at Chinua and the group of powerful players behind him and swallowed.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Phuong rolled his eyes and waved her off, turning back towards the wall as he stared at the forming portals. Youths. But it was hard not to be proud of his son, who had grown much in the last several months, rising to every challenge and risking his life to guide players in the field. He’d even got his stutter largely under control.
But it was no time for self-reflection. They had to get out their and start closing those portals before they got out of hand. And they had to do it quickly. The only question was how many to send. How many should he risk.
His profile pinged.
Carl’s personal messenger sent something like a voice-mail that could be used in city limits. The tone was sharp and quick.
Got maybe a hundred players back, most en route to you from the palace. A hundred more coming on foot. Rest are tied up on minor settlements. Enemy’s hitting weak points like they’ve got a damn map. Or a spy.
Phuong took a steadying breath. Spies were entirely possible. Who knew what sort of objectives the system might be giving the kind of men who’d served Jeong loyally? Perhaps they’d be spared death, given power on other planes of existence.
Be ready for anything.
Phuong took another breath and tried to remember his young lord’s wise words. He was going to have to risk militia-civilians out in the field, too—anyone who could close portals. He flipped through the list in his profile, getting ready to have his civilian team start sending messages and get people moving up.
Then the sky started to go dark. A big, red warning flashed across his eyes.
[Nexus Integrity: 97%]
Phuong fought his fear. No matter what, he had to stay calm. The holy city’s Nexus beacons were in the center of everything, mostly in the heart of the palace. The only way they were taking damage was if something warped inside. Or tunneled. Or flew. He turned and scanned the sky.
Dozens of floating crystal casters and winged harpies were pouring out of rifts high above the city, literally materializing in the air. Spells and javelins were raining down on the walls. On the streets. Defensive shields flickered everywhere, but a civilian ballista crew vanished in a burst of arcane fire.
Kiaan’s voice crackled in his ear.
‘Massive planar energy from the north-east side. Possible planar lord forming. Suggest all available tier one players.’
The fear was becoming animal panic. The same terrible feeling Phuong had known in his first battle—that awful moment he knew the chaos was beyond his control or understanding. He turned and saw it from his position on the wall—a massive tear in reality, dark and churning, something enormous already trying to push through. The ground trembled. Dust and stone began to swirl upward all around it like a reverse tornado.
He tapped his civilian assistant and opened a direct line to Carl.
“We need Mason. Right now.”
‘No shit. Scouts already messaged him,’ Carl shouted over background noise, voice grim. ‘No response. Hold the walls. We’re on our way but we have these fucking…would you shoot them for, Christ’s sake? What do you need my permission? Just hold on, Phuong, we’ll be there soon!’
The call ended, and Phuong exhaled. He had to decide. Did they just stand there and wait for Mason to deal with whatever that was? For all they knew, he was busy with his own battle and would be minutes. Or maybe couldn’t arrive at all.
The answer came quickly. They couldn’t just wait there for that portal to form. They had to try and close it before it was too late. Maybe they could even banish the creature before it properly spawned. He turned to his team.
“Carl can protect the Nexus. The others can hold the walls. We close that portal. Everything else is secondary.”
Seamus, Alex, Becky, and John were waiting like coiled springs, looking out at enemies in every direction. One by one they met his eyes. He saw the anxious desire to fight, but also the trust. They’d go when and where he told them to. They trusted his judgment. It was a thing he didn’t take for granted.
They were fellow soldiers, yes—people who’d been with him through many hardships. But they were also members of his family now. Like the once lost son also at his side, eyes glazed with power as he examined the rift.
“Uh, sir,” Hieu cleared his throat. “I can’t be sure, but I think it’s actually two major rifts. I think they’re trying to hide one by covering it with the other.”
Phuong watched his son and smiled. He wasn’t afraid anymore. He felt a stab of pride, thinking he’d enjoy telling Kiaan the young man had spotted something he hadn’t. The boy had taken the Scout class on top of his more academic Cartographer. In fact he’d insisted on it, to help players in the field. And he’d done an excellent job the last few months, usually at Phuong’s demanding side.
He resisted the urge to tell him they were family. The boy knew, he was certain, even if he didn’t understand all the details. It was enough.
Not the time, he thought, swallowing the words like bad rations. Not while demons are trying to eat the city.
“One portal. Two portals. Our task is the same. All civilians stay behind the walls.” He looked at his fellow soldiers and allowed himself a small smile. “Are you ready?”
Becky cracked her neck and formed her Familial Shield with a wink. Seamus rolled his eyes as his robe wrapped around him like living flame, staff growing from his hands. John nodded as he tested his powers, energy crackling around him. Alex did and said nothing, like it was just another day, not worthy of some big speech. Weirdly, this gave Phuong the most comfort of all.
“We’re here! We’re coming too! I made the sky a mess but my mana’s still good.”
They all looked down as a pregnant Demi and the goblin engineer Lodie came rushing up the rampart stairs. Phuong frowned, knowing Demi especially was very powerful, but also not wild about the idea of risking three of Mason’s women.
He now noticed a lot of flyers were dropping out of the sky, too, amidst a moving miasma of green mist. And he knew the moment Demi reached him it wasn’t a debate. This was no simple soldier for him to command. She hugged Becky and smiled, but her glowing, immortal eyes had enough stubborn will Phuong knew she’d help no matter what he said.
“Glad to have you,” he said, because what else could he say. He gave the useful but dangerous goblin a skeptical glance. “No bombs. Or grenades. We don’t all regenerate.”
Lodie nodded enthusiastically, then put a hand on her chin.
“Does a gun that shoots grenades count? I wouldn’t be throwing them.”
Phuong rolled his eyes. “Yes. I mean yes it counts. No grenades.” He waved his people on, giving the civilians and especially his son a last look. “Be ready. I may call for assistance with the portals. If you can find Blake or Erik, get them over there as soon as possible.”
Hieu nodded.
“I’ll find them, sir, and get them moving.”
Phuong put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, then moved to the gate. His players followed in silence, right behind him as he gestured the gate open and stepped out into the field. He moved to a jog, snorting as the closest enemies spotted him and his teams planar-killing auras and bolted.
The players started activating their defensive powers and taking position, no words required now for the very experienced team—Demi and Lodie the only ‘outsiders’ at the back.
“Stay with Alex,” Phuong called to them. “Go where he goes. Call for help if needed. If I tell you to fall back to the wall, you fall back instantly. Understood?”
They said they did, and he put them from his mind. The worrying was done with now, and nothing else to think about until the variables changed. He had a portal to close. He gripped his soul blade, and picked up the pace.
