Hopeless.

  There was no other word to describe it.

  The last of their defensive positions breached, overrun. And was it any wonder? Where they’d been expecting to defend against near endless hordes of mindless fodder, they’d instead been met with a coordinated assault.

  An army well versed in the intricacies of warfare.

  They’d never even stood a chance.

  A never-ending tide of skittering black bodies, and them, the coastal cliff gradually eroded away. The familiar holders had been the first to fall. Noble and arrogant in their grandiose displays. Massive balls of fire and great scythes of ice chucked into the hoard like so many drops into an ocean.

  Within short order they were overwhelmed completely. Venomous fang and acid spit paltry in comparison to their grand displays of power, yet against a thousand such attacks?

  A hundred thousand?

  The main force fell the very next day. Leaving only the auxiliary and the injured to take the fight to the enemy.

  Gertrude lurched to the side, trying to evade the dripping fangs that lunged for her throat.

  She gasped as weight was placed on her injured leg. Her knee buckled and she fell, neatly evading the jumping attack that came from behind.

  The smaller spider leapt, flailed, then bounced awkwardly off the hairy dome she’d taken great pains to avoid. The massive brute of a thing, twice her head height and as large around as a wagon, took several skittering steps back, looked down on the smaller spawn—who was even now hurriedly scrambling to its feet.

  It shook its head in what might have been reproof. The jumping spider slumped. Clearly taking the reprimand hard.

  Gertrude, who’d had two days to observe and come to terms with their strangely intelligent behavior, merely used this break as an opportunity to rise.

  Using her short sword as a crutch, she lurched to her feet, attempting to stand, only to find that her leg could no longer support her. And so, bereft of options and racked with pain, she merely stood there, crippled, sword tip buried in the ground.

  Watching.

  Waiting as, all around her, fires blazed, smoke billowed, and shouts rebounded. As others like her were locked in similarly hopeless engagements. As others like her were trampled to death. Behind the two spiders she personally faced, still absorbed in their internal affairs, skittered forth a dozen such imposing brutes—barely a hundred paces away.

  And behind them? Thousands.

  The two rift spawn resolved whatever issues they’d been working through, and, almost as an afterthought, returned their many eyed gazes to her.

  They took several unhurried steps forward.

  Gertrude panted through the pain. Reaching down and pulling a small dagger from her boot sheath, she raised it, brandishing it before the two rift spawn. Ready to die alright, though not without a fight.

  “On your left!”

  Gertrude flinched as, to her left, just as advertised, a woman appeared.

  Her body wreathed in blue flame, and with a glistening red sword already set in motion. Sweeping forward in a wide, horizontal arc. There was a flash, a sharp series of whistles like arrows in flight, and by the time Gertrude blinked away the tears, the two spiders in front of her, in front of them rather, had simply vanished.

  To be replaced by a crescent of glittering red shapes. A living swarm of truly astounding proportions which, even as she watched, utterly decimated the oncoming hoard of rift spawn in a glittering, ever shifting, almost serpentine display.

  Like a cloud of angry hornets numbering in the millions, a tide of locusts that seemed to blot out the sky, a veritable army in and of itself, the ruby red reinforcements descended upon the rift spawn with a vengeance—leaving nothing but red mist in their wake.

  Within seconds it was finished, and their small little corner, of what was effectively an ongoing calamity, was suddenly freed from the shroud that’d haunted them for so long.

  The inevitability of death no longer so inevitable.

  Gertrude, like many of those auxiliaries with a newfound lease on life, stared open mouthed at the woman who blazed with azure light. Who had single handedly massacred a small army within seconds.

  “Soldier! Your name?” the woman turned to her, eyes literally blazing with an inner fire.

  Gertrude’s straightened to attention, outright ignoring the pain in her leg.

  “My name, ma’am? It’s Gertrude, ma’am!”

  “Right. Gertrude then. I’m afraid I’ve gotten a bit turned around in the melee. It would seem I’ve also managed to outpace my escort, more fool me. Can you direct me to the nearest concentration of rift spawn? Preferably in the direction of whichever dank hole the monarch of these lands resides.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Ah! O-of course ma’am,” Gertrude turned and pointed. “T-there! Near where the webbing’s thickest. Can’t miss it, really. Its where most of us figure the monarch must be hiding, on account of all the rift spawn. Ma’am!”

  “Ah.”

  The woman looked momentarily embarrassed.

  “Wonderful! Well, you have my gratitude, Gertrude. With any luck, this should all be over within the day. So, just… hang in there, alright? I’d stay but… well, as you can see, I have other duties to attend to. We’ll get you patched up in no time, though. Rest assured. After everything that’s happened here, it really is the least we can do.”

  Gertrude stuttered.

  Stunned that someone like her would at all be worried about some no name grunt like herself. A woman who’s only real noteworthy deed, so far, had consisted of the uncanny ability to break her leg while out on patrol.

  “No need to trouble yourself on my account, ma’am! I’ve had worse. Expect I’ll have worse yet ‘fore the war’s won.”

  The woman’s face split into a wide grin.

  “Hah! That’s the spirit! If only some of the people “in control” of this whole fiasco thought more like you do… well, the world would be a much better place, that’s for sure,” the woman’s face fell, taking on a more serious expression before brightening with false cheer. “Enough of that. Forget I said anything. I’d best get a move on, in any case. There really is no time like the present! And if we’re low on anything, it’s time, right…? I’ll be going now. Take care of yourself, soldier.”

  And with that, the woman spurred into motion, exploding forth on a wave of azure flames. And behind her, above and all around, the cloud of glittering petals raced to follow.

  It was in a large and open clearing that the two casually strolled—emerging from beneath the mottled shade of the jungle canopy.

  The very air around them seeming to vibrate, ears deafened by the raucous din of howling monkeys. Screaming, chortling, shrieking with delight. Like seated spectators before a grand and deadly arena, blood sport attendees baying at the promise of imminent tragedy.

  It hadn’t taken long to track down the Howler King’s chosen domain.

  The demon beasts made enough noise for a hoard ten times their number. No, by any reasonable metric, once they’d finally arrived in this humid, insect ridden land, they’d actually made rather excellent time.

  And yet? And yet they couldn’t help but feel woefully inadequate. That they’d been far too late in their coming. Lax in their estimations. They should’ve made this jungle a higher priority from the very beginning.

  Dispatched the other monarchs with far greater efficiency. The horrific scenes of carnage and bloody massacre which dotted the terrain, like some morbid trail of breadcrumbs, leaving them in even less of a mood to bandy about than usual.

  Before them, nearly two hundred paces distant—atop the high branches where many of its brethren stooped—lounged the Monkey King Howler himself. A shaggy haired primate with lanky arms and a warrior’s build.

  Tall, with silver fur and a golden mane, it was a thing of wiry strength, lean and agile. Standing at about nine foot four, it towered over its smaller brethren—a king amidst its lowly subjects.

  Although, apart from a difference in size and coloration, each of the demonic howlers appeared much the same. From where they stood, Jun and Eleanor watched as the monarch briefly flashed its fangs in challenge.

  Then, with one last piercing howl that cut through all the rest, raised its claw tipped thumb up high, then brought it down in a negative gesture. An emperor condemning them to death.

  It’s subjects, riled up into a mad frenzy by this point, practically leapt to obey. A tide, no, a cascade, no, a torrentof frenzied howlers threw themselves from the trees—tearing up the soft underbrush in their eagerness to be the first to reach them.

  When those very first front runners eventually did, however, they were very quick to realize they’d have been better off had they not.

  *Ding!*

  Congratulations!

  You have formed a Triple Aspected Mantra.

  Mantra: [Body’s Temple | Crushing Erosion] (3rd Tier)

  ERROR: ASPECTS NOT FOUND; MANTRA UNALIGNED. STABILITY HAS BEEN LOST.

  Grade: (Trash Quality)

  Note: Due to the advent of your Ascendant Level Boon, this Mantra’s default grade has been raised.

  [Body’s Temple | Crushing Erosion] (Poor Quality) +2 resonance.

  Mantra: [Body’s Temple | Crushing Erosion]

  Description: Perhaps the most glaring weakness in my overall repertoire, one which I feel like I’ve bemoaned since day one, has been my overall lack of defensive options.

  Combine that with my generally low levels of resiliency, squishy mortal flesh unsuited to the many rigors of combat, and my only real, viable option, for the longest time, has been the age-old adage that “the best defense is a good offense.”

  A sentiment I, and quite understandably in my opinion, wholeheartedly despise.

  Due in large part to the fact that, whenever said offense inevitably falls short, it’s ultimately left to my papery skin and fragile bones to pick up the proverbial slack.

  Leaving me, more often than not, half crippled as a result. And so, in an even worse position to effectively leverage my supposed offense. Which is also, apparently, my defense—establishing something of a downward spiral from there, as you can probably imagine.

  In which my body becomes increasingly bruised, battered, and broken, well before the fight has even reached its final conclusion.

  Call me a coward, but I’d rather a good defense be a good defense for once—give my poor bones a break, no pun intended.

  Enter: Bodies Temple Crushing Erosion.

  A revolutionary technique that allows for all that pesky bodily harm to be inflicted upon the enemy for a change, instead of being firmly imprinted on myself.

  Just flood your body with semi-corporeal conceptual matter, and watch as they break themselves upon your glorious chrome kissed frame. Be warned, it does have this pesky habit of completely restricting your movements.

  A feature, I can assure you.

  Seeing as, if you were allowed to move, you’d swiftly cease to exist, going off like a supercharged atomic bomb basically on the spot. Oh right. You probably don’t know what that is yet. Needless to say, you would die, so would the plant life around you, and everything else for a several mile radius.

  Much like the cutting aligned body’s temple mantra, this comes with a pitifully short duration, as maintaining it for too long has a way of stopping the heart permanently.

  Still, it beats getting your ass handed to you time and time again.

  Limited Time Uses: NOT APPLICABLE

  Charge Time: Instantaneous

  Ability Duration: 15 seconds

  Ability Cooldown: 30 minutes

  Etheric Concession: Cliff Erodes the Tide