The expedition cheered when they crossed through the borderlands and the Ivory Plains came into view.

  Running his eyes across the blend of white and yellow stalks that gave the grasslands their name filled Edge with a wave of nostalgia, though the region had changed considerably during his absence.

  The days were shorter, and the air was cooler now that summer had transitioned into fall. The yellow grass had darkened considerably, while the white would remain pristine throughout the year. Most striking of all, the shimmering bands of magicytes flowing across the biome were thicker than ever—almost as concentrated as the weaves he’d seen in the Sweltering Green.

  I hope the center of the plains hasn’t changed this much, or Puppet Town won’t have time to adapt before stage-two beasts migrate here en masse. Not that we’ll live long enough for that to be a problem if we can’t find a way to win this war.

  More violence and bloodshed lurked just around the corner, but as the wagons rolled along the grasslands, he let his worries go and enjoyed this fleeting moment of peace. While Rue ran circles around his feet, Edge cast his gaze across the land that had become his new home.

  He could see a herd of buffalo grazing a few miles out. The imposing beasts were bigger than ever now that the prairie had more magic to nurture their cores. Instead of just a single stage-two bull, the herd now boasted over a dozen—a threat sufficient to give even the most powerful predators pause. With their sheer size, charging attacks, and overlapping auras, the buffalo were still the kings of the Ivory Plains, at least for now.

  He wished the majestic creatures luck, then continued scanning the horizon. He spotted the Guide’s Fingers in the distance—gigantic spires of green stone jutting up from the middle of the biome.

  Edge was pleased to discover the bladed yellow stalks, which were sharp enough to cut the flesh of an uncored individual like a knife, couldn’t even scratch his skin. Walking through it highlighted just how much he had grown since stepping into the Savage Garden. It was a bit irritating to have it constantly catch his clothing, so he stayed in the soft white grass whenever he left the road.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Rue took off after a fieldmouse, heading straight for a patch of golden growth. “Rue, no! That’s not safe.”

  He hastily activated Summon Companion, putting the fox into his pocket dimension before the little guy cut himself. Edge could sense the Rue’s irritation at being thwarted and confined before he switched gears and decided to take a nap. Fortunately, the curious pup had a short attention span and didn’t hold a grudge. I’ll have to teach him about the grass before I let him loose on the plains.

  That was when one of the scouts came sprinting over to where the leaders of the expedition were walking side by side while discussing their next move. “The Crimson Claws are besieging the settlement,” the woman spoke between panting gasps.

  “The Dome is down, and the northern turrets are wrecked. The north gate is busted and plugged with debris, but the wall is still intact. It looked like there was a battle earlier this morning, but the jailbirds didn’t make it past the defenders, and they’ve pulled back to regroup a half mile to the east. Tiburón is with them, along with another strike leader I’m not familiar with.

  “Before he slipped past to enter the town, Riller got close enough to listen in on their conversations. The Claws are waiting for two more groups to arrive before they launch another attack later this afternoon. One of them is the army we fought in the jungle, and the other is coming from the Gilded Heights. Given the way the jailbirds were acting, I think Yussuf is leading them.”

  “Shit,” Able swore. “We have less time than I thought. We need to get into position before it’s too late, but if the convicts see us coming and attack us first, we’re fucked. I didn’t want to leave them exposed, but we’ll have to hide our noncombatants somewhere nearby instead of sneaking them inside the settlement.”

  Able gave the order, and the expedition turned off the road, heading for the Violet Groves sub-biomes a few miles away.

  Thirty minutes later, the wagons were concealed in the lush purple growth, and the hunters activated a range of stealth skills to conceal their presence. Knowing that the final battle could begin any moment, everyone began reading themselves for the conflict to come—stretching out, conferring with their crews, and maintaining their gear. The crafters and alchemists made the rounds, distributing a final set of consumables they had fashioned earlier in the day.

  Meanwhile, the leaders finalized their plans before heading out. “We knew this might happen,” Alice began, speaking on behalf of the lootfinders and harvesters. “Thank god Riller made it past the blockade. It will make it easier to coordinate with Earl and Dialla.”

  “I had been hoping to kill whoever is maintaining that jamming skill,” Able added. “But it looks like we won’t get the chance. Once we’re ready to make our move, I’ll send a stealth specialist to communicate with the defenders using flag code, but Riller should have provided Earl with an overview of our plan.”

  “Before we commit to a course of action,” Trapper said. “We need to get a better sense of what we’re dealing with—enemy positions, numbers, stockpiles, and defenses. It’s going to be risky, but we’ll have to ask the scouts to make another pass before our elites launch a surgical strike. That being said, we might not have time and need to be close enough to join the battle at any point, so we should have our fighters advance now. We know this terrain well and should be able to remain hidden.”

  Edge cleared his throat and addressed the group. “Based on what One-Eye told me, Yussuf the Red is a skilled strategist. The Claws’ strike leaders are incredibly powerful, and their stage-two warriors outnumber us three to one. To make matters worse, every member of their army is armed with skills specialized toward killing other people.

  “Their weakness is their lack of teamwork. If we can eliminate their leaders, it will dramatically reduce the gang’s combat effectiveness. We should wait for an opening, then try to kill some of their key players. With my ultimate ability, I should be able to deal with one of them and give our entire army a boost with Warlord’s Mantle. It will only last a minute, but it made a big difference in the battle below the mountain.”

  “I’m certain Earl is waiting to make his move,” Able added. “There’s no way he’s just going to sit there and wait for the convicts to unleash whatever hell they’re planning. He is perfectly capable of Leaping over the wall and can enter the battlefield from any angle he pleases. If we give him an opening, I’m sure he’ll take advantage of it.

  “Regardless of the details, we need to head out now or we’ll run the risk of arriving too late to make a difference. Come on, people. It’s time to pay these bastards back for every life they’ve stolen and put an end to the Claws once and for all.”

  With that, the expedition’s warriors bid farewell to their support staff and began marching toward Puppet Town. Their elites could move faster and would hide within sight of the walls in case the fighting started before the others arrived.

  With his friends at his side, Edge sprinted across the plains—heart pounding as the final seconds before Puppet Town’s showdown with the Crimson Claws began ticked past.

  ***

  Walter took a bite from a sizzling skewer of grilled meat, peering between the tree trunks to make sure no convicts were headed their way.

  Puppet Town was ten miles to the north, making this the farthest he’d ventured from the settlement’s walls since the anomaly had thrown their lives into chaos. Sitting around the fire were three newly cored deputies and the hunter who had taken them into the field to start cycling up and advancing their skills.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  What was supposed to have been a day-long training exercise had turned into an extended stint of rough living after the Claws had revealed their presence and stopped anyone from entering or leaving the settlement.

  It was frightening to be living outside Puppet Town’s walls, where a hungry beast or bloodthirsty prisoner could end his life at a moment’s notice. But at least Walter wasn’t in this alone. Over the last two weeks, he had grown close to the members of his impromptu crew, and he’d learned to trust their leader.

  He was just about to say something to that effect when a whistling cry reverberated across the wooded sub-biome where they’d been camping since the siege began. Don’t panic, Walter. It’s probably just another one of the jailbirds’ scouts passing through the prairie. If we keep our heads down…

  His train of thought was derailed when something hit him from behind, knocking him to the ground.

  Walter looked down to see an arrow protruding from his chest—just in time to watch as a second shaft planted itself beside the first, puncturing his lung and sending an incandescent wave of pain surging throughout his body.

  The woman beside him was already dead—killed by an arrow that had passed through her throat. The rest of his crew had risen to their feet and grabbed their weapons, but before they could take two steps, they erupted into fountains of blood as their limbs flew free from their bodies.

  As his vision grew dark, Walter saw a group of jailbirds walking through the woods. “I told you there was a group of tourists hiding out here. They must have been trapped outside the settlement by Blaze’s strike force.”

  That face seems familiar. Oh fuck. That’s the Claws’ leader, Yussuf the Red. I must warn… That was the last thought to pass through Walter’s mind before he his view was obscured by a crimson spray and oblivion rose to engulf him.

  ***

  Yussuf grinned as the last member of the training crew was reduced to a cloud of blood mist.

  He wouldn’t normally have killed the cored hunters without trying to recruit them first, but he didn’t have time right now, and it felt good to work out some of his frustration. He walked over to their fire, retrieved a skewer of grilled meat that was miraculously unsoiled by the carnage, and took a bite.

  Delicious. He sighed in satisfaction as grease ran down his chin. Food always tastes better after watching an enemy breathe their last. Yussuf’s crew waited in silence as the scouts swept the woods for any more of Puppet Town’s forces. They knew better than to interrupt his brooding, although he was already starting to feel better.

  His journey from the Gilded Heights was almost over. A few more minutes would see them to the center of the plains, which meant the war for Puppet Town had entered its final stage. Despite some irritating setbacks, all three strike forces were converging on the settlement as planned, and everything was in place to claim what would become the beating heart of his empire.

  That being said, Yussuf couldn’t believe how poorly his lieutenants had performed. He had wanted his elites to struggle—to lose standing among the Claws and consolidate support for his rule—but he had never imagined the strike force he’d sent to the Savage Garden would be beaten by the expedition from Puppet Town.

  Losing the core manufactory was a trivial matter. He planned to take over the settlement anyway, and it gave him a perfect excuse to leave the Heights for good. But having so many of his cored warriors die in the dungeon was infuriating.

  Even more concerning was their defeat below the mountain—a battle that should have been trivial given the dynamics of the situation. He hadn’t heard from the survivors, but if they didn’t have a good excuse, he intended to make an example of them once the war was over. Ella and Roth had been vital members of the gang, and while they weren’t needed for the invasion of Puppet Town, he would feel their loss for quite some time to come.

  At least Wraith, Tiburón, and Blaze are reliable, even if they have a tendency to ignore orders that don’t suit them.

  Although she hadn’t eliminated all her targets, Wraith’s operation had gone relatively well. Puppet Town’s Dome, two turrets, and the north gate had been destroyed, which would allow his assault to proceed as planned. While it would make the battle more difficult, in some ways, it was better that the southern turrets and aether refinery still stood, since they would be valuable assets once the settlement was under his control.

  Yussuf hadn’t heard from Wraith since late last night, which wasn’t a surprise. Her expendable operatives were probably dead, since the mission had clearly encountered difficulties. But Wraith had more lives than a phoenix and hated participating in conventional warfare. He assumed she would turn up after the city had been conquered—delayed by “unfortunate circumstances.”

  Blaze had been wounded during an ill-advised skirmish earlier in the day, but it wouldn’t affect the elite’s ability to control his flames, and Tiburón was raring to take another shot at Earl after his humiliating defeat.

  Yussuf wasn’t surprised the elites had disregarded his instructions and attacked the town the moment its defenses were compromised. Blaze was hotheaded to a fault, and the landshark always had trouble holding back after scenting blood in the water.

  Fortunately, their losses had been minimal, and the lives they had claimed in the bargain made the engagement worth the price they’d paid. The attack should have taken a bite out of the defender’s morale, supplies, and energetic reserves. It might have been the best move after all.

  He shook his head at the mountain of bullshit he had to deal with as the leader of a jailbird gang. Convicts make horrible subordinates—too bloodthirsty and arrogant. I can’t wait to conscript some elite hunters instead. Once they’ve been trained to kill without hesitation, my army should be far more reliable moving forward.

  He was glad that Tiburón had made it back safely. The shapeshifting warrior was the second most powerful member of the Claws, and his strength would be needed during the impending showdown. Once Earl was dead and Puppet Town was in Yussuf’s hands, the shark would have to die too, but not before he made use of the man’s undeniable talent for mayhem.

  Besides, turnabout is fair play. Yussuf was certain that Tiburón was planning to assassinate him and usurp his position once the settlement was secure.

  As the Claws’ leader left the hunters’ campsite and returned to his crew, one of his scouts came running. “What is it? Are we under attack?”

  “No, sir. It’s our own people. A group of forty or so with Ripper leading them.”

  Yussuf’s mood curdled when he learned how few members of the strike force were still alive, although it gave him a perfect excuse to tie up a loose end. His crew walked out of the woods, heading over to where his strike force was being approached by the army, who had left to conquer the Savage Garden weeks ago.

  The returning convicts were a sorry sight. They were wounded and demoralized—some missing eyes and limbs. This group had contained his most expendable and problematic followers, but they weren’t supposed to die until after Puppet Town had fallen. Losing over fifty cored warriors would make it harder to claim the settlement, but there should still be enough fodder to keep the tourists busy while Yussuf slaughtered Earl and the rest of their elites.

  He ordered his support staff to give the new arrivals food and medical attention, then put on a mask of calm as Ripper came walking over. Yussuf’s self-control was tested when he noticed that the strike leader was in remarkably better shape than the fighters he led.

  Ripper wore a sheepish grin, counting on his natural charisma and the looming battle to talk his way out of his failure. “Hi, boss. It’s nice to see you and the rest of the gang. I know things didn’t go quite the way we planned, but me and the boys are ready to take the settlement just like you wanted. All’s well that ends well, right? Just give me a second chance, and I swear I won’t let you down again.”

  While it was a shame to lose someone with such an unusual talent, Yussuf knew that Ripper had been planning to kill him and take over the Claws for months. He was far more dangerous than his personality would imply, and his antics were merely a fa?ade the man wore to disarm his enemies.

  Yussuf would have preferred to deal with this later. However, Ripper’s skills weren’t needed to win the war and letting him live would make Yussuf look weak—a death sentence for the leader of a jailbird gang.

  Besides, killing the coward would take him one step closer to evolving his Conqueror’s core—a labor-intensive process that was agonizingly close to culmination. “You want a second chance, Ripper? You have it.”

  The man’s knees went weak with relief before tensing right back up as Yussuf continued, “Which you blew by failing to conquer the dungeon and being defeated by a pathetic group of tourists pretending to be hunters. You were supposed to acquire a critical resource and slaughter Puppet Town’s elites. Instead, you lost half your army in exchange for a paltry handful of lives.”

  The man had begun backing up, getting ready to make a break for it as Yussuf finished. “After all that, you’re asking for a third chance? Now that, Ripper, is just too greedy.” By this point, the strike leader knew what was coming. The elite ignited his core and flared his Disruption skill hard while bolting in the opposite direction.

  Ripper made it ten steps before his neck exploded, severing his head from his body. Smirking in satisfaction, Yussuf turned to address the rest of the strike force returning from the jungle. First the stick, then the carrot.

  “The rest of you cannot be blamed for what was clearly a failure of leadership. Don’t worry, under my command, we will claim Puppet Town and secure the seat of our new empire. You are all going to be rich beyond your wildest dreams and powerful enough to make the gods kneel. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Before we celebrate moving into our new home, we have some killing to do.”