B4 Chapter 484: Plight of the Living, pt. 2

An arrow descended like the heavens themselves rebuked the beasts. Heralded by a thunderclap, Kaius watched it tear across the sky with an ashen taste in his mouth.

Moments later, one of the wolf-like creatures disintegrated into a fountain of blood and meat chunks. It was simply no longer there — weak in comparison to them. Kenva’s Howl of the North Wind had vaporised it.

The start of their assault had still taken too long. Another of the survivors had fallen.

Kaius was certain there was malevolence behind the creatures’ intent. While only a handful immediately pursued the survivors, others watched and waited, happy to take their time as those closest picked away at the flagging defenders, inflaming their terror. It was cruelty, plain and simple. A raking claw here, cutting an arm to the bone. A snagging fang there, slicing through boots, just enough to send a villager stumbling — long enough to make them think they might not make it.

This was no fight over territory, nor a hunt driven by basal needs.

It was torture.

And the sight of it made Kaius furious.

This was unnatural.

As the survivors registered the sudden crack of Kenva’s assault, Kaius watched them scramble — a burst of speed driving them forward at the sound and spray of blood.

Their unified scream came seconds later, carried on distant winds.

Another arrow shot down; another wolf detonated.

The remaining beasts scattered, feral howls filling the air as primal instinct sensed the presence of a true predator. Good. It would buy them time. They were still a minute or two off from landing. They had to keep the beasts on the back foot. With the tyrant’s control granting the creatures tactical insight, it would be all too easy for them to realise just how much devastation they could wreak on the survivors in that time.

This time, one of the hunters at the edge of the group saw them. The man thrust his hand high, screaming in their direction. The others swept their eyes up, full of desperate, heart-wrenching hope. Kaius tightened his grip on A Father’s Gift. He would not fail them — not in the final hour.

“Drop us down behind them!” Kaius screamed. “Porkchop’s going to terrify them!”

Ophelia just nodded, too focused on her casting to respond.

As for who the mage would take with her on her return trip, it had already been decided: the weakest, the most injured, and the children. She could take fourteen with her — most, but not all, of the flagging villagers who lacked combat-capable classes.

Kaius kept his eyes peeled for flying beasts. They were present — leagues behind, held within the main line of the army. Entire flocks of birds, bats, and insectile creatures buzzed in living clouds. They were more tightly corralled than the outliers and outriders, and none had been sent to harass those fleeing.

A small mercy. They would be lethal once Ophelia flew away.

Drifting downward, they approached the survivors. They were still — twenty strides above the ground and a full fifty ahead of the group racing toward them. Kaius felt the grip of Ophelia’s magic slacken against his body.

“Dropping!” the mage yelled.

A moment later, gravity’s avaricious hold found him once more. Momentum alone kept him moving. Kaius grit his teeth, bracing himself. He could have broken his fall with a shunt, but it would have been a waste. He was strong enough.

Hitting the ground hard, he bent his knees, staggering forward as the lack of feedback from his prosthetic led to the metal limb digging a little too deep into the packed soil of the plains.

His team landed around him. Porkchop summoned his armour mid-air, slamming down like a battering ram as dust plumed and the ground cratered beneath him. Spells and arrows flew, skewering beasts that still lurked behind brush and long grass. Pained squeals rang out, silenced moments later by follow-up shots.

Yet the creatures were many, and they were few. Sensing the sudden arrival of true resistance, the rabid monsters surged together, gathering into a war party that charged toward them.

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Porkchop would have none of it.

Kaius felt his brother’s certainty — none would pass.

A warden’s challenge filled the air, rattling Kaius to his bones as his brother’s demonic visage faced down the approaching beasts. Their frenzy only peaked.

Dozens of creatures that had surpassed the hundredth level — each a town-ending threat in the old world — surged forward toward a titan of orichalcum.

As a Shardwall raced forth, and arrows and spells cut down the approaching monsters, Kaius left his team to their tasks.

He had to get the survivors onto the landyacht, or they were all doomed. Already he could spy more beasts approaching. No longer faced with the defenceless, their previous cruel harassment vanished — now they came in for the kill, converging on their position.

A shunt burst behind him, throwing him over the heads of the fleeing survivors.

“Delvers, gods be praised!” one screamed.

Their plea was joined by fresh squeals of terror as Ophelia’s spell wrapped around a chunk of the party. Unaware of the plan, desperate allies clung to those who rose into the sky, trying frantically to pull them back down.