The clouds drifted aside, letting the moon cast a silvery, ghostly glow over the horrific scene unfolding in the square before the temple.

  The creature loomed above the burning wreckage, a towering mass of shifting limbs and snarling faces. Its flesh writhed like boiling tar, bulging and twisting with every breath.

  Eyes blinked open across its body—some human, some not—each one rolling wildly in different directions.

  Mouths gaped and chewed at the air, drooling black ichor that sizzled when it hit the stones below.

  From its hunched back, spines jutted out at impossible angles, twitching with every pulse of corrupted magic.

  It had no face.

  It had a dozen.

  And all of them seemed frozen in a silent, constant scream.

  Alyra clasped her hands in prayer, her chest tight with dread. “Oh… Orbisar, help us. What is that thing?”

  The children huddled together, trembling, trying to find comfort in each other’s warmth.

  Someone sobbed.

  Markus stood tense, brow furrowed, clutching his hammer tight. “That has to be a high-ranking demon,” he said. “Probably sent to challenge the Cashnar. We have to support our Messiah however we can. Pray, kids. Pray.”

  And so they did.

  Alyra shut her eyes and pressed her hands together even tighter. Her whole life had just been torn apart by those monsters and now, if something happened to Derek and Isabelle too, she’d be alone.

  All over again.

  “Please, God,” she whispered. A tear ran down her cheek. “Keep them safe. Keep all of us safe… on this awful night.”

  “Shit!” Derek shouted.

  The Tactical Intel Relay had warned him a split second before the hit. If it hadn’t been for NOVA’s auto-reflexes yanking him sideways, that massive fist would’ve flattened him like roadkill.

  A geyser of mud erupted from the impact, blinding him for a moment.

  Derek opened fire with his plasma cannons, and Tunga backed him up with blazing fireballs.

  The thing was so massive, missing it was harder than hitting it. In seconds, flames spread across its bulk. Molten plasma and enchanted fire biting deep into its flesh.

  His display confirmed it: the hits were landing.

  Despite its high level, the creature didn’t seem particularly resistant to fire. The level gap dulled their damage, but two-on-one odds helped level the field.

  “Come on, shaman!” Derek yelled. “Keep the pressure on!”

  Plasma blasts tore into the creature’s formless body like it was made of wet paper. After a few seconds, each impact detonated like a miniature supernova, engulfing chunks of flesh in fire.

  The monster roared and charged like a raging rhino.

  Derek maxed out the leg actuators. When it lunged, he launched NOVA straight up, soaring high above its rotting frame.

  The beast skidded to a halt as Derek aimed his cannons downward.

  Twin flashes lit up the night. Glowing bolts ripped into its back, blasting chunks of decayed meat in every direction.

  The monster screamed and crashed onto its side.

  Derek landed nearby, rolled, and popped back onto his feet.

  No health bar appeared above its head, same as the rest of the undead. He could only hope it was a system glitch. Maybe something in Ebonshade was messing with detection.

  The firewall they’d cast against the undead herd was still burning in patches.

  The fire golem was finishing off the last of the zombified buffalo trying to charge through.

  Tunga raised his staff overhead, spinning it as he chanted in a language Derek had never heard.

  Rings of fire shimmered around his face, twisted in intense concentration.

  What the hell was the old man doing now?

  No time to babysit—the colossus was already getting back up.

  Derek couldn’t let it recover.

  With a mental command, he launched a salvo of purple-tipped micro missiles.

  They shot from the launcher with a deep thump and curved down in a flat arc, detonating around the monstrous heap.

  Illusions of Tunga shimmered into existence all around the beast, each one mimicking his staff movements in perfect sync.

  The real shaman shot him a dirty look.

  Derek winked back.

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  The aberration swung a charred, massive arm, wiping out the illusions in a single swipe.

  Each one burst into a puff of violet smoke, then instantly reappeared in the exact same spot.

  Ithara had said the illusion sphere he’d absorbed would let him multiply and control the copies.

  At least in theory. Still figuring that part out.

  Maybe Sierelith could help him dial it in.

  If he managed to save her from that hell.

  Tunga let out a sharp screech, and the fire circle he’d been casting stretched into a cone. A second later, a small whirlwind of flames spun to life in front of him, dancing like a living thing.

  Sparks flew from the fiery funnel like glowing fireflies into the night sky.

  The illusions, programmed to mirror the original, followed suit, and soon the entire courtyard blazed with writhing flame-tornadoes.

  The monster roared and charged the nearest copy of Tunga. For something that massive—with those stubby legs—it moved freakishly fast.

  All the shamans, both real and copied, raised their staffs in unison. The fire funnels swelled to match the creature’s height.

  The monster veered to avoid them, but the tornadoes swerved with it and swallowed it whole.

  Obviously, only the real one was doing any actual damage, but to the creature, it looked devastating all the same.

  Tunga held steady, his face clenched in effort.

  Magic clearly came at a price—physical and mental—just like NOVA’s plasma systems drained its reserves. And this spell was definitely a heavy hitter.

  The creature howled as the flames devoured it, like a candle hurled into a bonfire. Its scream dropped in pitch. One leg buckled.

  That bald, gray-skinned lunatic was actually holding his own, with fire. If he’d pulled that move during their first fight, Derek would’ve been toast.

  The second leg gave out, and the abomination collapsed forward. Steam hissed. Burned flesh crackled. The acrid stench filled the air, even through NOVA’s filters.

  Its strength was fading fast as the flames flared brighter.

  Looked like this would be over sooner than expected. Derek retracted the plasma cannons. Tunga’s illusionary clones blinked out one by one in violet puffs.

  “Derek,” Vanda called.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Additional entities approaching.”

  Derek frowned. “More cattle?”

  “Partially. It appears to be a mixed group.”

  He took a long breath. When the hell was this nightmare going to end? He deployed the cannons again with a loud clang. “NOVA reactor status?”

  “Energy usage is lower now that you’re relying on… unconventional attacks. It seems your weapons are drawing partially from alternative sources. The reactor is stable, but I recommend restoring it to full capacity as soon as possible.”

  Derek nodded. “Thanks, Vanda. I swear I’ll fix it this time.”

  Tunga lowered his staff, and the fire tornado vanished. He gripped it with both hands, barely staying upright. He was gasping. Looked like he’d aged thirty years in five minutes.

  The monstrous creature was still down, twitching slightly. Not dead. Not quite. It groaned with deep, hollow noises. Its body trembled now and then.

  “You good?” Derek asked.

  Tunga gave a silent nod, still panting, forehead slick with sweat.

  Not everyone had a personal plasma reactor to keep them going.

  Sloshing footsteps in the mud, off to his left.

  He spun.

  At least twenty undead sprinted into view, faster than he’d ever seen them move. If not for their dead, vacant eyes, he’d think they were in a hurry to get somewhere.

  Derek raised his glowing blades, ready to meet them.

  But they weren’t charging him. They were heading straight for the monster’s twitching body.

  Without even glancing at him, the undead hurled themselves onto the creature’s corpse.

  One of them—a middle-aged man, maybe, with a patchy beard and sunken cheeks—belly-flopped onto the decaying mass.

  The thing’s soft, shifting surface deformed, creating a shallow pit that absorbed the man whole.

  Its skin rippled like molten plastic, molding and writhing. Heads, limbs, torsos shifted like a grotesque kaleidoscope.

  In seconds, the man was gone. Just another set of limbs in the pile.

  One down.

  The others followed.

  The abomination welcomed them with greedy hunger, swelling and growing as each new corpse fused into its mass.

  He swallowed hard. “Vanda, what the he—”

  “Derek,” Vanda cut in, “the creature’s energy levels are spiking… alarmingly.”

  Tunga growled, but he could barely stand. Without that staff, he’d be face-down in the mud. Whatever was coming next, he wouldn’t be able to help.

  The creature started moving. It planted both massive hands on the ground and shoved itself upright.

  “Derek!” Vanda’s voice cracked like a whip.

  That got his attention. Shit, it was getting back up.

  He opened fire.

  The plasma bolts hit nothing. The monster had already moved.

  It was twice as fast as before. It stopped, raised an arm, and something flew off it, straight at Derek.

  Too fast to see.

  Too fast to dodge.

  It was like getting hit in the chest with a cannonball. The air exploded from his lungs. The impact hurled him backward, limbs flailing from the sheer force.

  Alarms lit up across his HUD.

  The monster shrank in the distance, but only because he was airborne.

  His vision blurred. It felt like being swatted mid-flight with a flyswatter. A fly in power armor weighing over 400 kilos… and still tossed aside like it was nothing.

  He hadn’t seen it coming. Not even NOVA’s Tactical Relay had.

  What the hell had that thing become?

  Inertial stabilizers kicked in. Micro-thrusters fired, ripping a grunt out of him.

  The world finally slowed.

  He hit heels-first. Then back. Then head.

  Derek lay flat in the mud, gasping, staring up at the sky.

  Still cloudy. The storm wasn’t done yet. Thunder rumbled somewhere far off.

  He lifted his head, barely.

  A flashing message filled the HUD.

  || Armor Structural Integrity: 45% ||

  A sharp pain in his ribs made it hard to breathe. Something was definitely broken.

  Where the hell was that damned thing? He scanned and found it.

  It was headed straight for Tunga. The shaman stumbled, barely pulling himself upright.

  That idiot! What the hell was he doing? He had no chance.

  Derek forced himself to stand. Warnings and bypass logs flooded the screen. Vanda was holding NOVA together while it barely held him.

  Same as she was doing with him.

  Derek sucked in all the air his bruised lungs could manage and shouted, “Hey! Ugly freak!”

  The creature stopped. It turned its twisted body toward him.

  “Derek, your vitals are unstable,” Vanda whispered. “Please, don’t push it.”

  Tunga stared at him, mouth open. He probably hadn’t expected to see Derek still standing.

  Couldn’t blame him.

  “Good,” Derek muttered. “Back off my friend.”

  The monster roared and charged. Every step shook the ground like a quake.

  No more magic.

  Derek activated the plasma blades.

  Time to do this the old-fashioned way.

  Isabelle charged, sword aimed straight at the target, ready to thrust.

  Elias raised his clawed hands, his face twisted in a feral snarl.

  Right before the blade struck, she halted the swing and unleashed a torrent of lightning from the tip.

  A stream of blinding white energy wrapped around the priest’s body. At that close range, the green barrier didn’t even have time to activate.

  His body convulsed violently as the electric surge tore through him. He collapsed, twitching on the ground.

  Someone appeared beside her.

  Isabelle’s heart skipped a beat.

  Sierelith stood next to her, holding something out. “Take this. Hurry.”

  There was a black, spherical object in her hand. “What is it?”

  The spy looked at her like she’d just asked the dumbest question in the world. “What do you think it is? It’s the Death sphere the cultists were using.”

  Isabelle frowned. How dare that lunatic offer her such a vile object? “And what exactly do you expect me to do with it?”

  Sierelith rolled her eyes. “What do you think? Use it to kill that annoying priest! He’s being kept alive by a Life sphere. Death will put him to sleep.” She leaned in slightly. “But be careful… I think it’s Bronze tier. Just holding it for too long will start to corrupt you with its energy. Don’t ask me how those cultists even got their hands on a Bronze-level sphere.”

  Isabelle stared at the sphere in the spy’s hand.

  A fully intact, Bronze-tier Death Sphere.

  She could be hunted by the Inquisition just for holding the damn thing. And this heretic freak was asking her to use it… on a priest of Orbisar? Her stomach twisted into a knot. Acid rose in her throat.

  Elias was already starting to get back up.

  Sierelith’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?! He’s already recovering! Doesn’t matter what you throw at him, that Life sphere will always bring him back. There’s only one way to stop him.”

  She shoved the sphere toward her face.

  Isabelle winced.

  Maybe this was a test from God.

  Maybe Orbisar wanted to see if she’d give in to the temptation of using that dark power.

  What would Derek do in her place?

  He’d look at the facts. Act accordingly. What were the facts?

  Elias had said the only time he felt like himself again was inside the church. He was weaker here than when she’d faced him outside.

  It had to be the Death sphere hidden in the altar, nullifying part of the Life magic flowing through him, weakening him… and helping him come to his senses. That cursed sphere was the only thing that could stop him.

  Derek wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Isabelle clenched her jaw and snatched the sphere from Sierelith’s hand.

  “Finally! What took you so long?” the spy muttered, shaking her head. “Use it carefully. Channel its power into your blade, same way you would with crystals. Just be careful not to absorb it into one of your chakras or… well, we’ll have a bigger problem than one deranged priest.”

  Isabelle nodded.

  Sierelith backed off, just as Elias lunged at her.

  The impact hit like a battering ram. The world flipped upside down, and a blinding pain exploded in her skull, knocking the air from her lungs.

  The sphere… Where was it?

  Her eyes darted across the floor… nothing. Just a pair of feet.

  Elias’s feet.

  Slowly, she looked up.

  The priest loomed over her, his green eyes blazing. “Now it’s time for your penance, child.”