[System]
You are a skilled LitRPG progression fantasy author. Write chapters based on the story bible and instructions provided.

## Premise
Frostbound Apocalypse — a LitRPG progression fantasy. I would like to thank you guys for reading and please leave a comment if you see any mistakes. Enjoy! Callum, The Sovereign of Flames

Callum stood at the edge of his domain staring off into the direction where his entertainment would soon take place. All around him, blue-white fires burned with enough heat that the air warped and distorted. The heat didn't bother him, even as he stood right next to the blistering flames, for the fire was his.

## Main Character
Name: Kyle | Gender: male (he/him)
Key supporting characters: Granddad, Points, He

## World & Power System
level-based progression; class system; skills (e.g. Healer's Hands, Splitting Shot, Foraging Sense, Sweeping Slash, Power Shot, Cleanse, Human – Level 10, Crude Iron Knife)
System notification style: "System protected space to process incoming integrating populations "

## Writing Style
first-person narration, past tense. Dialogue-heavy (76% dialogue). Balanced pacing.

[User]
Write Chapter 275 - Stand Tall
Target length: ~2500 words

[Assistant]
00:00:21:01

I stood atop our Wall and watched as thousands of people fell into ranks. Over 800 people stood at the ready at my back and Marcus had even more standing behind him to our South.

The area between the ringed Wall and the Obelisk was filled with all manner of death traps and poisons. Pitfalls, spikes, arcane traps, all covered in thick layers of poison where it was applicable.

Carpenters to shape the wood used, smiths to shape the metal, Trappers to set it all up, and Alchemists to make it even more deadly.

It was the union of five or six different people all to ensure it was at maximum lethality.

And there were thousands of them primed and ready.

The wall itself was devoid of any towers or gates, as there wasn't enough time for the former, and there was no need for the latter. One didn't need gates to keep something out.

The weather only worsened as the timer ticked down, but I paid it no mind. With the amount of magic about to be used, the weather was the least of our worries.

A heavy rainstorm or thunderstorm might actually be useful, rather than harmful.

Thousands of gallons of water were diverted from the river in a hastily built canal. Both Marcus and Abigail worked together to create the reservoir for them and the other Water Mages to use.

With it at our back, all the Water mages would be a lot more powerful. And ice would be readily available for all those who used it.

When the sun did come out, it shined brightly upon the thousands covered in plate. Reflections lit up the area because of the glistening metal and the solar mana continued to gather. Austin would have his own boost.

Thousands upon thousands stood awaiting the arrival of our challenge. It only took a turn of the head and more of the sea of men and women would be revealed.

00:00:12:25

Siege weapons created a second ring behind the Wall. Dozens were built and assembled by nearly every Faction adding up to hundreds creating a second ring. Catapults and trebuchets creaked under the tension they were under.

All of them were ready to unload at a moments notice.

00:00:08:42

Men and women with bows stood multiple ranks deep. Hundreds of thousands of arrows were created just for this moment. Every person had a stack set aside next to them so they had enough for what was to come.

00:00:05:01

Leaders began to inspire who they could. Speeches about fighting for humanity, or stepping up. Every leader was different. Every Faction drew inspiration from however they could.

"It's time to nut up or shut up," Austin joked and gave me a thumbs up, "Knock 'em dead."

He and Jonathan both stood at my side like normal. Elliot was up here with us as well along with a few other Warriors.

I sighed deeply before quickly regaining my confidence. To get everyone's attention, a sent a burst of cold through the area. A light application of [Desolate Blizzard] was enough to draw everyone's eyes.

Or maybe it was unleashing my aura.

"Members of Frostheim. We stand at the ready to face our challenge. Thousands of miles were covered so that we could stand here right now and face what's thrown at us! Whatever comes through that obelisk, it will break upon our walls! It will break upon our swords and shields! It will break because we will stand here and make it break!

"There are two things every man, woman, and child should hope to accomplish in life. Two things that set us apart from everyone else. It isn't our power or strength. It isn't our pride or ego!

"It is our hearts!

"It takes heart to stand tall while others cower! It takes heart to fight while others flee! But most of all, it takes heart to Live with Honor and fight for those who cannot!

"In addition to heart, it takes a determined will!

"Having heart may lead you to where you stand today, but having a determined will is why you remain! Everyone saw those slinking off in the night. Those who left when the time for battle came near.

"Yet here you stand! I can see the determination burning in your eyes. Determination that even the threat of death can't extinguish!

"Not only determination, but the Willpower to charge into battle knowing death is possible. Knowing that this may be your end, yet here you stand!

"The determination to Die with Glory!

"Those two things are what set you apart from everyone else. Those two things are why you and I are here today. When the sun sets on this day, those are the only two things that will matter!

"And if Death comes for you today, and this fight is to be your last, those that remain will remember you. They will carry you with them for as long as they live. The memory and legacy that you forge today will be something no one here will forget.

"Because it will be Glorious!

"An End that people can only dream of. An End fit for those who go out and grasp with their bare hands! An End fit for KINGS!"

A grand cheer broke out from everyone listening. Weapons were raised in the air and shaken in response to my own. After it died down, I wrapped it up.

"We stand here today and we will not be found WANTING!"

"AHHH!!!!" Everyone added their voice to the cheer and the noise was near deafening. The fervor was enough to put a smile on my face.

00:00:00:49

I hadn't timed it but it ended up perfect. Just enough time for everyone to close ranks but not too long the vim and vigor died off. The energy in the air was palpable. I stood proud, my blood chilling in excitement. Excitement and anticipation.

As every leader whipped their people into motion, as the thousands here readied themselves, a weight settled on everyone here. A weight that comforted instead of stifled.

It was the collective weight of everyone here. As everyone let it out, their auras mixed and collided, but instead of fighting for dominance or smothering each other, it was all pointed in one direction. It was the first time I had ever seen such a phenomenon and it was... beautiful. All of our efforts pointed in the same direction.

The weather took a turn and I swore I felt a drizzle begin to fall, but no rain came.

With my speech finished, I leaped off the wall and landed in the dead zone and a thud. Austin, Jonathan, and Elliot followed after along with those who were willing.

Austin just had to have the last laugh and landed next to me with a smile, "It was no King Théoden but it still was good. I liked how you weaved Live with Honor, Die with Glory in there."

"It's easy to inspire what I already believe in," I said and slammed my helmet down and made sure it was snug. Austin did the same next to me, his eyes sparkling through the eye holes.

Next came the Ice. My Mana, Spirit, and Law infused into [Frost Armor] and it settled over my armor perfectly. Thick sheets of hard pressed Ice settled and froze into place and I wasn't the only one applying an extra layer of armor.

Jonathan had earth flowing up from the ground and hardening onto his form. Elliot shifted the layers of metal around him into a suit of armor that encased him in inches of the stuff. He looked more like a walking tank than a person in a suit of armor. He was going full defensive for this battle and I couldn't blame him.

Only Austin was left out and he could only tisk in shame as everyone else pulled their elements around them.

I swung my hammer around lightly to make sure everything fit into place. The Ice melded with the Polar Steel creating a flowing set better than both sets apart. Those who jumped down with me did the same. Even Austin did some practice stabs to make sure he was ready.

00:00:00:05

"Archers, NOCK!" I called.

I couldn't see them but I could hear their synchronized movement. The sound of bowstrings tightening and wood creaking.

00:00:00:00

'Defend your Obelisk!'

The timer hit zero and doors no one knew were there opened. All four sides of the obelisk ground open and things started to pour out. Thousands began rushing out of the tower as every side was dozens of feet wide.

Before I could even recognize what we were up against, traps began exploding left and right. Those placed closest to the Obelisk were set off first but more and more began blowing up to add to the noise.

"Austin, what are we up against!" I called. I couldn't make anything out, but he could.

A flash of light came from him before he responded, "It says [Blight Touched Orc]!"

"What level?!"

"All of them are level 100!"

Explosions continued to rattle the battlefield as three days worth of traps tried to slow down the tide. It was a losing cause. For every orc that fell to a trap, dozens more came pouring out of the Obelisk and only one of them were finite. Hundreds died in the first few seconds from our preparations alone.

In the times in between clouds of dust and smoke, I could make out the monsters pouring out dozens at a time.

The Orcs themselves were disfigured. The tall, muscled green skin that Orcs usually were thought of was long gone. They were still tall and extremely well-muscled, but their skin was different.

Instead of rich green, they had streaks of black running through them or splotches covering sections of their body. The vibrant green I expected to see from orcs, was instead sickly and dull.

The Orc's ran through row after row of traps and the area around the obelisk became drowned in bodies. The circle of death only expanded as more traps were expended or arrows from other sections were launched.

"LOOSE!" I called.

A wave of arrows rained down and even more Orcs fell. Thousands of arrows came flying down in the volley which was unreliant on our numbers. Skills like [Splitting Arrow] or [Arrow Rain] turned what would've been a volley of hundreds, into a volley of thousands.

The carpet of arrows only gave a small reprieve. It wasn't long before the wave of Orcs made it back to where they had left off. Without traps to slow them down, it was only moments before they were pushed forward again.

"Trebuchets, FIRE!"

Large chunks of rock came raining down next as our dozens of siege weapons fired. Row after row of charging Orc's were flattened or crushed as the projectiles were designed to hit and roll through rank after rank of them.

The angle was meticulously measured to make sure the weapons were most effective.

Still, like the arrows, the effect was minimal.

"Mages, FIRE!"

A sea of spells rained down next containing so much mana it was hard to look at. It felt like staring at the sun but for my mana sense. Fire exploded, lightning boomed, earth and ice came raining down in droves.

Some of the spells persisted, turning into a field of fire or thick rows of roots and thorns pulled whipping back and forth.

It still wasn't enough to stop the Orcs' advance.

"Fire at Will!" As the orcs closed in, I wouldn't be able to command the ranged units for much longer. I'd have my hands full with something else.

"Time to put in the work." Austin flashed even brighter as light started escaping him.

The test began right at noon which couldn't have come at a more perfect time for him. He was at his most powerful right now and he was aiming to make the best use of it.

His spear came alight and he started stabbing out in quick succession launching skills of his own. The warriors with long-ranged skills followed suit along with the Rogues with throwing weapons.

Row after row of Orcs went down but more and more came spilling out. It was impossible to miss there were so many.

Finally, when the Orcs came into my range, I began. [Permafrost] and [Desolate Blizzard] drank in my mana and momentarily, Summer was banished and Winter reigned.

I flared my Bloodline for an initial boost but quickly let off to save it for later.

We had no way of knowing what would come next. It could be an endless row of Orcs, or there could be champions mixed in. We wouldn't know until they arrived.

Still, with Summer turned to Winter and my skills turning the area around me Arctic, it was finally my turn to face the charging orcs.

Now that they were close enough, I could make out more of what I faced. Hal was right in that they were carrying weapons. Most had axes of some kind while others had clubs.

The rare Orc held a sword but those were few and far between. Some even had hammers, but by far axes were most popular.

They were primitive in make. Some were even hewed from bone instead of forged from metal. Rust was common on the rare metallic weapon as were chips and slight fractures. The weapons could use a reservicing but they were deadly enough.

The muscled arms that held them aloft made it so. Their skin may be sickly, but it seemed they still retained their strength.

As the front of the wave neared enough to our defensive line, the fight began in earnest.

My hammer met the first of their number and its face crushed in from the blow. [Mighty Blow] turned its skull to fragments and it fell listlessly forward as its momentum forced it to go in a direction its head didn't follow.

The next was embedded upon the spike before it too joined its brethren in death. [Momentum of the Avalanche] started to build to match the bodies at my feet.

Jonathan and Elliot stood at my side while Austin danced around the battlefield stabbing out when the opportunity arose.

With command delegated, Hal and Abigail both took charge of the Archers and Mages respectively. Vinny and Brayden remained in Frostheim so command of the siege weapons was left to Phillip.

He stayed to fight even though his fighting capability was poor. "It doesn't take skill with a sword to launch some boulders." The Builder claimed.

An axe landed upon my armor of Ice and barely left a scratch. It was filled with everything I could give it and not even a level 100 orc could cause it to shatter.

But for some reason, that didn't make me feel good. This was our test. It determined if we kept our protections or not. It shouldn't be so easy that my armor was impenetrable.

It took a second for me to realize the problem.

None of the Orcs were using skills.

[User]
Write Chapter 276 - Chaos of Nature
Target length: ~2700 words
Key events: combat-heavy

[Assistant]
Why aren't they using skills?

I'd never fought Orcs before but I'd fought something close. Both Goblins and Hobgoblins were sent against us occasionally during the monthly waves. Or, bi-monthly now that we upgraded our pylon. The distance of time lengthened for some reason we still weren't sure about.

Goblins used skills. Hobgoblins used skills, but for some reason, these Orcs weren't.

Is it the Blight? Did getting infected take away the ability to use skills?

But that didn't make any sense. I could feel the mana moving in their bodies. It was disgusting, horrendous, distasteful mana that had been corrupted by the Blight, but it was still mana.

It moved through their bodies like any other kind of mana, but it just wasn't being used for skills.

I didn't get long to think about it before I was entrenched in battle. Our usual strategy of facing hordes was employed. Those willing stood in front of the wall to blunt the impact while everyone else held it.

I was in my usual position at the Vanguard and that meant I was the first person the wave broke against, which always made my job the hardest. But there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

The Orcs were at the peak of E-grade, only one level away from D-grade. Their fighting strength was significantly lower than that due to not using skills, but their numbers more than made up for it.

It didn't take long until I was drenched in brackish blood. The dark red, nearly black blood certainly didn't look healthy. It gave off a feeling of dread as well. The feeling reminded me of the unnaturalness that the Demons gave off but on an entirely new level.

This wasn't just unnaturalness, this was anathema.

After the first few went down to my hammer, their blood coated my weapon and my armor. It stuck to it and coagulated quickly from the cold, but not before eating away at it.

It burrowed in like acid. Wherever it landed on the ground began to sizzle as well, destroying anything living. Plants withered and died within seconds.

"Don't get the Blood on you!"

"The Blood is Acid!"

The call of alarm was from everyone currently facing the Orcs in battle. Some were already screaming from the splatter that coated bare skin. I was lucky my Ice kept it from my skin.

Instead, it was a constant drain on my mana to keep [Frost Armor] intact. The blood ate away at not only the Ice, but the mana used to make it.

I did not want to feel what it was like on bare skin if the screams were anything to go off of. Some were already retreating back to the wall seeking help from Healers.

I had to push the sounds of screaming away and focus on what was in front of me.

With the Orcs not using skills, it meant I could keep things in reserve for when the challenge increased. There was no way that this would be all that was thrown at us. No way.

[Righteous Fury] would be kept sheathed and so would my Bloodline. I had to use my Spirit to reinforce [Frost Armor], but other than that, I saved it.

We had no idea how long the obelisk would continue to disgorge the Blight.

Relying solely on strength of arm and the least amount of mana I could, I slaughtered as many as possible.

I trusted my weapon but the growing thickness of taint on the hammerhead was worrying. It was my Legendary skill, and it was powerful, but I had no way of knowing if the Blight was more powerful in the long run.

The ice the head was made of was fine, but I couldn't be sure it would continue to be.

Stop getting in your own head. Focus!

[Avalanche] was slowly building and I needed less and less strength to rend the Orcs limb from limb. It wasn't my intention to create such a gory sight, but my hammer swinging around as fast as it was made it impossible to hold back.

There was no slowing this train once it got in motion, and it was well and truly in motion.

To ration my mana, I stopped using skills other than [Frost Amor]. [Mighty Blow] wasn't necessary after my strength rose to over 2000. [Avalanche] and [Glacial Presence] pushed it above that rather quickly.

With my current stats, it would eventually rise to over 3000, but that wouldn't be for a while. Plus, I wouldn't be able to hold it for long. That kind of boost wrecked my body to maintain.

It was the reason that no boosts or blessings fell on me. Austin, Jonathan, Elliot, and every other warrior fighting were given a blessing. Either a large boost to one stat or a small boost to all of them depending on the Support.

Shields were also flickering in and out around them blocking damage that I didn't have. I didn't need it. Others did. Every Support or Healer with a blessing or Boost was told in no uncertain terms that I was not to be targeted.

Settling in, I noticed how different the fight was. How often I was getting hit. How often I was having to change my approach.

These aren't beasts.

It wasn't claws and teeth reaching out to me. I didn't have to defend against sudden lunges from creatures with powerful hind legs. I didn't have to dance around beasts with thousands of pounds behind them.

I had to watch axe heads and sword edges. I had to judge the distance of how far they could reach. It wasn't something I was used to and I was suffering for it.

Cracks spread and chunks of Ice fell off. My Ice wasn't breached and my skin remained unmarred, but that didn't mean it would stay that way.

The habits I had formed were working against me. I had sparred and trained against other humans but it had been years since I'd fought seriously against one. Years since and it was against mindless thralls, not weapon masters or skilled combatants.

Which these Orcs were not, but they still had enough skill to press me. One on one, it would be a slaughter but that wasn't because I out-skilled them. It was because I was stronger and had more stat points.

A certain amount of strength made skill meaningless.

But that didn't mean they couldn't wear me down.

I needed to be more efficient. Less wasted movement. I didn't need to exert 2000 points of strength to completely pulverize one Orc when a light tap would cave in its chest and kill it anyway.

Axe strikes didn't need to be avoided, but they needed to be spread out. One hit was fine and draining a minuscule amount of mana. Multiple hits were not.

Faster.

My swings became wider, more arcing. I didn't need short swings so I was ready to defend. I didn't need defense at all.

I would do what I had taught, trust my armor.

I felt myself become smoother. Felt as the changes brought by humanoid enemies were made nearly subconsciously. The death toll at my feet climbed. The piles of dead turned into mountains. Every once in a while, a spell or powerful arrow slammed down next to me and blew them apart, but it wasn't long until the pile started to build again.

Orcs died, lost their fight against my skills, and froze solid.

My feet trampled what was left into the ground or when the occasion arose, [Shattered] them. The bodies of the fallen turned into shrapnel to kill even more.

It was gruesome. Grotesque even, but I did it all the same.

I spoke the words earlier because I meant them. They would break upon our walls and they would break upon us.

I was so involved with making sure I killed as many as possible I didn't see the attack coming in. I'd been lulled into normalcy and maybe that was the point. The horde hadn't been charging at us for long, but it had been long enough.

An arrow. One I didn't see coming. One I didn't expect to see coming, shattered the ice around my leg. The bone tip didn't make it farther than that and the shaft exploded into splinters of wood, but it was enough to stagger me slightly.

I whipped my head up and saw an Orc much taller than the rest standing with a ruinous-looking bow. It looked like it was hewed from a full tree rather than a branch.

The Orc pulled out an identical arrow before nocking it. Its muscles bulged and strained to pull the massive string back, but its efforts were worth it as the arrow was launched.

It sped through the air faster than I could track before impacting the same spot. The Ice that had just begun growing back was shattered for the second time and the metal armor under it was dented.

"Austin! What is that!?"

I shouted the words and they intertwined with my aura. It was wild and flaring now that the battle was heated and they merged together seamlessly. I knew he heard me because I knew everyone in range heard me.

"[Orc Hunter]! Can't see its level!" His answer came swiftly, "I'll take care of it!"

He left out Blight-Touched because that much was obvious. Being unable to see its level almost certainly meant D-rank. The power packed into its arrow made that a certainty.

With his reassurance, I trusted him to take care of it. I couldn't spare to watch but the light show was hard to miss.

"Warriors! Be ready for Ranged attacks!" I called out in warning. If I was surprised, others would be too.

The light died down but exploded out again in another attack. "There's more! Some are [Orc Champions] instead!" Austin's voice shouted.

The mountains of dead Orcs were shock troops. They were sent to soften up our lines before the real threats came through. It made me wonder if this was the usual strategy for Orcs or if this was something the Blight did.

Send in the weak before the strong.

That strategy made something inside me angry. It went against being a Warrior, but I wasn't sure why I felt that way. These were monsters, it didn't matter what they did.

Still, if that was their strategy, and what we faced already were the weak, who were the strong? How high into D-rank would we face?

"Archers! Focus the Champions and Hunters!" My order resounded out to make sure it was heard.

Mages were told to fire for effect. Wide skills were better than single-target skills. Archers were more for precision and told to take down the elite targets, which the Hunters and Champions undoubtedly were.

Spells and arrows had continued to rain down since the start. It wasn't just our section either. Every section had mages launching spells deep into enemy ranks taking out Orcs by the dozens.

The way the Ringed Wall was set up made it so the deeper a spell was launched, the more overlap there was, but that worked in everyone's favor. It was like an unspoken agreement was reached and each section cycled through launching powerful spells and a rhythm was reached.

Boulders rained endlessly from siege weapons. The people who manned them scrambled to reload and fire as quickly as possible. The few Earth mages stationed nearby worked overtime to pull up and compact ammo as fast as it could be fired.

Those who stood upon the wall fired whatever they could into the chaos. Whether that be an arrow, javelin, or conjured weapon of a different origin.

Spells had been planned out in advance. Affinities accounted for to not interfere but those plans were beginning to break down.

So much magic had been used that it was all beginning to swirl together. Ice and Water reigned supreme where I stood and everything opposing that was weakened.

Water dominated to our south and Nature to our North. The Faction that was assigned the section was run by a Druid. A powerful one if the mana they were throwing around was anything to go off of.

Lightning rained down in such frequency that the rumbling thunder was endless. It was only accentuated by loud cracks by powerful bolts. The sound was loud enough to carry throughout the battlefield and I had a feeling I knew who was responsible for those that were loudest.

The weather that had already been worsening turned into something completely different. The clouds darkened and unleashed thick sheets of rain in some spots but the sun poked through in others.

Wind howled through as pressure changes were altered by the second. Temperature was blistering hot in some parts and devastatingly cold in others. Snow fell in one place while fire raged in others.

If my eyes were better, they would have picked up on one section in particular. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. The energy of Death that permeated from far away.

Of the Dead that got up to fight again. Orcs reanimated to fight off more of their kind.

The skies above were fighting just as much as the people were down below. Nature itself wasn't sure how to respond and that only made the chaos build.

It got harder and harder to institute my sliver of Winter. It wasn't just the normal pushback from the ground and air. It was the pushback from everyone else.

Laws were thick in the air. I could feel them pressing against me and had to use my own to ward them off. Ice and Wind battled against everything else. It was impossible to pick out what I was fighting off and instead felt like I was fighting the tide.

A battle that had my domain shrinking by the minute. I gave ground instead of holding it to preserve my energy. My Wind law helped. The newly realized concept of Domination did its best, but it was up against a foe it couldn't beat. The weight of thousands against one.

It asserted dominance and created a bastion of winter, but I knew it wouldn't last. Not if I aimed to conserve it.

My heart pounded like a drum inside my chest. Each beat sent mana coursing through my veins urging to be used. It bled from my feet into the land under them. Feeding [Permafrost] to freeze and grow.

It escaped from my body into the air. [Desolate Blizzard] drank it in to impose itself upon the world.

Each beat invigorated my body and each beat brought power like nothing else.

Power to assert my will on the world. Power to stand tall and have the Orcs break against me.

There was something there. Something about the sensation that called to me but there wasn't enough to realize. It almost felt like a whisper. It's too soon. The feeling lingered, but I didn't gain anything else from it. I wasn't even sure what it was.

The Archers did what they could to stall the Champions but they advanced on my position and I couldn't afford any more distractions.

A primal roar resounded out of me as I looked upon my challengers. Challengers that aimed to assert their will over my own. To knock me down and stand victorious over me.

Ice ran through my veins as I had the thought. It brought clarity and rage in equal measure. Rage at the thought of losing and the clarity needed to keep a cool head.

Blood-soaked, weapon-charged, snow and frozen bodies coating the ground. It was something I couldn't hold in.

Any and all thoughts of those around me dulled as I stood at the Vanguard and gave those behind me the best chance I could.

[User]
Write Chapter 277 - Threat Level
Target length: ~2100 words

[Assistant]
Austin

The small fry were slow enough that he didn't even have to pull on his anchor to kill them. They had strong muscles and their swings were powerful, but they meant nothing if they couldn't hit him.

A thrust of his spear with only a few skills was enough to drop them. Plus, none of the blood came back on him. A Win-Win way to slaughter!

The beginning of the wave was rather easy. Dance around and stab as many as he could. It reminded him of the early days of the mantis infestation at The Twins. Before it became a drag and he had to fight progressively harder bugs.

The Orcs were slower, dumber, and couldn't fly so he had an easy enough time.

At first.

The Hunters had arrows that bested even his speed and the Champions were much tougher to take down. The Archers at the Wall did their best, but the Champions were hardy. Austin felt every time one of Hal's arrows came screaming in and it usually ended up with a dead Champion in its wake.

The Champions were a miniature Chris, if Austin had to describe it.

They forced him to bring his eyes away from the surroundings, and boy was that hard to do. There was just so much happening. Nearly everything that caught his eye was new in some way. New and exciting!

There was an honest to god Necromancer for god's sake!

Even after gaining the ability to shoot beams of light from his hands, an actual Necromancer was something else. He watched as an Orc took an arrow to the chest, fell down dead, death magic flare -for what else could it be-, and the same Orc got back up and fought on for the other side. Austin nearly took an arrow because of the distraction.

It was fascinating!

The weather was another drag on his attention. If the fighting got any worse, he'd have to lock in and disregard his... sightseeing, but his abilities were enough to sneak a peek every once in a while.

But it was sooo hard to ignore.

The sun would poke through in a rare gap in the clouds for a brief moment before they shifted, covering the hole up while also opening a different one somewhere else. It felt like a spotlight getting turned off and on while pointing in random directions.

It would start to drizzle like it was the onset of a rainstorm, then it would freeze and turn to hail or snow, then suddenly stop altogether. Only to return in buckets so forceful they hurt his skin.

The Wind blew the horrid stench of the blood leaking out of the Orcs one second and then the next the only thing he could smell was the ozone of lightning.

There was even the beginning of a funnel cloud!

Austin had seen some monstrous storms since the Change. Storms that caused mana to go wonky and have the force of what used to be classified as a tropical storm or weak hurricane.

He'd also witnessed a few Law Storms, but those were exceedingly rare. The two he had the pleasure of viewing, a Blizzard and Tornado, were sights to behold, and whatever was happening above was on the verge of becoming his third.

Last, but not least, of the fascinating sights was everyone else fighting. He'd seen Marcus in action before along with the few other powerhouses in his City. Clarissa was the next most noticeable but she lost some of her flare because of Rachel.

It wasn't as novel.

But here, with everything going on, there was too much to see! He didn't have enough eyes to take it all in. he may have the eyes of a bird, but they were good at seeing far and clearly, not wide and panoramic.

Still, he could pick out a few key areas. They also coincided with the areas Chris pointed out where other suspected Barons fought. Those areas flared to his sight like pillars in the sky. It was like being in the vicinity of over a dozen Chris's.

Maybe I shouldn't use Chris's as a unit of measurement.

He saw one woman clad in Earth so thick and dense that it put Jonathan to shame. Her section of the wall was still untouched as she held it nearly single-handedly.

She wasn't killing as fast, but she held it firmly.

Her name was Jayla if Austin remembered correctly, and fighting next to her were two more that were fun to watch. On her left, a man with honest to god lava dripping off him weaved through the Orcs like a bull in a China shop and burned, crushed, or pulverized anything that came his way with his bare fists.

Gauntlets wrought from hardened lava coated his hands which still had glowing veins of cherry red underneath.

The man on her left was a one-man tornado with gusts that not only blew everything off their feet but simultaneously ripped them apart. He wasn't as notable as the two next to him, but he stood out.

Those three were the tip of the iceberg. It felt like every other second his eyes were pulled in a different direction. Lightning bolts thicker than he was rained down. Water Scythes spanning tens of feet wide that bisected dozens of Orcs.

Fires that burned so hot that it hurt to look at from even as far away as he was. Even standing next to Chris and his Winter Wonderland, his body imagined sweltering when he gazed upon it.

There was too much for him to take in and as the fight got rougher, he had to pour more and more of his attention into not dying. Not dying was his preferable state and no amount of fascination was going to cause his death.

That would just be stupid.

* * *

The Admiral

He stood and watched. The section of wall he gazed out from rattled slightly from the impact, but it stood none worse for wear after the Orc Champion died. It shouldn't have gotten through the line in the first place.

[Inspire Troops], [Tactical Command], [Empowering Command], [Division Leader], all of his army boosting skills were in play and it still wasn't enough. He had yet to take the field personally but the time was coming for him to have to.

If anything stronger than the Champions and Hunters came, his hand would be forced. His skills would weaken from not being able to see the full picture and so, so many people would die.

Some days, he hated his Class. Hated the fact he had to sit and watch as his men died, but it was the best choice of shitty choices. His late wife would curse his foul language but there was no other way to put it.

It was torture.

He rose up from a position not unsimilar to the men out laying their lives on the line now. From Seaman to Captain, and eventually, after years of service, Admiral. Yet the best he could do right now was stand and watch his men die.

His personal strength wasn't enough to outweigh the good he was doing. As sad as it was.

Not yet at least.

"Sir, section 4 is getting pushed back and needs reinforcements." A runner informed.

"Send the Eight and the Ninth." The Admiral responded after looking at the section with [Insightful Battlefield View]. The skill wasn't working at its best, but it was all he had.

He was running out of reserve troops. The few he'd kept back for occasions such as this were quickly getting deployed. The teams he'd spent the better part of two years piecing together were doing the best they could, and it wasn't enough.

If this was as bad a 'test' as they faced, they'd win. Being an Admiral, he didn't have extensive experience with land-based combat, but he had enough. He also had officers of the Army folded into his command that could make up the difference.

All of them were predicting a Close Victory. They'd lose many, but they wouldn't be defeated. That was all based on the enemies they knew about. The regular Orcs that came first and the Hunters and Campions that came next.

It didn't account for the unknown. Their Skills could do much, but they weren't omnipotent. Sure, there were plans drawn up for what could be anticipated, but those couldn't account for everything. It was impossible.

He also didn't know the capability of those around him. It wasn't like he could go up to the other Faction Leaders and demand to know their combat abilities. Planning for this test was like going into it with one eye blind.

Oh, he sure wanted to wring from them everything they could do and get the full picture, but he couldn't. He barely made it through the squabbling mess his previous meeting was without hitting anyone. He wanted to strangle some of them, let alone work with them.

Without knowledge of what they might face and incomplete knowledge of the abilities of their own side, planning was meaningless. Too many unknown variables made even the most generic of plans untenable.

That wasn't even taking into account the more esoteric powers. Some literally got stronger when faced with a disadvantaged position. A Class dedicated to being the Underdog or skills that got stronger when faced with a mounting challenge.

With only two years to discover, categorize, and research their new reality, there just wasn't enough time. Tactical Classes covered for that weakness, but they could only mend it so much.

His own Class did most of the heavy lifting, but it still wasn't enough.

"Sir, report on The Stormbringer." A runner handed him a sheet of paper.

They weren't wasteful enough to have messengers and runners transporting paper supplies around the battlefield. The sheet was conjured from a skill. The feel was different enough from real paper to tell but it looked identical. They'd even discovered that some conjured materials this way had anti-espionage qualities, somehow making it harder to read if you weren't the intended recipient.

~~

Nick Castillo. Designation: The Stormbringer

Large lightning bolts that can kill Champions and Hunters in one shot. Mana Levels: Unknown. Laws: Lightning - Tier 2. Water - Tier 2. Wind - Tier 1. Mana Cultivation at Stage 1. Body: Unknown. Spirit: Unknown. Skills can also chain to surrounding targets. Men behind him are above average with few standouts.

Level: 97 Profession: Unknown

Categorization: High-Damage Mage.

Threat level - High

~~

It wasn't the first of such messages to come in. Those close to where he stood were the first to be scouted. It took longer and longer for the information to come in as they had to travel further and further through the chaos the area had become.

It was surface-level information at best with more unknowns than he cared for, but it was better than nothing. An extensive skill list, pinpoint accuracy on stats, every Step they had taken whether it be Mind, Body, or Spirit. That was the kind of information he would kill for but no one would give up. Not willingly, at least.

He wasn't only gathering this for future use. Yes, this kind of information was essential to making any future plans, but it had a very real use now that outweighed anything it could be used for later.

Any Skill related to Tactics or Planning depended on knowing what those you commanded could do. The Stormbringer wasn't under his Command and didn't benefit from his Skills, but that didn't mean the information was worthless.

Any Battle Plan that was drawn up relied on accurate information and the closer it was to the truth, the more accurate it would become.

It helped decide where they would send troops. Where they would support or give ground. If other Factions showed the ability to withstand the Orcs, they could shift forces away and bring them to where they were needed.

Another runner came up and dropped off another paper.

~~

Christopher Zalenski. Designation: Iceman

Heavily armored warrior using a large Warhammer. Layer of Ice as well as plate underneath. Estimated strength well over 1000. Creates a domain of ice around him that debilitates anything close. Laws: Ice - Tier 2. Wind - Tier 2. Mana Cultivation at Stage 1. Body: Wood, at minimum. Spirit: Anchor Formation

Notables in Faction: Water Mage of high level. Fire Mage of High level. Stone Warrior of high level. Light or Solar Warrior of High level.

Level: 95 Profession: Unknown.

Categorization: High strength and High defense Warrior.

Threat Level - High.

~~

[User]
Write Chapter 278 - I Couldn't
Target length: ~2500 words
Key events: combat-heavy

[Assistant]
Chris

I wasn't quite sure when it all went to shit. It seemed like every fight or Wave that extended past a few hours and caused [Avalanche] to max out eventually ended like shit.

With a fight taking that long, mistakes were inevitable. Fatigue and exhaustion both put their hands on the scale after that and Skill and perseverance could only do so much to balance it.

It was only a matter of time before it came crashing down.

My hammer was chipped. I felt it clearly as it happened. The blood-soaked Ice hammerhead had been worn down. The inherent magic did what it could to protect it, and I felt my own mana being used, but it wasn't enough.

Not when it was so saturated in corrosive energies that got continually renewed.

One or two enemies would have been fine. My hammer would have smashed them to smithereens and been no worse off. Sure, it would have had to fight off the accumulated blood, but there was enough power dwelling inside the hammer it would've been fine.

Even ten to twenty foes would've been fine.

Maybe even a hundred.

Not the amount I was facing. That... that was too much for the weapon.

My muscles strained as it pulled the heavy hammer through the air but it filled me with righteous satisfaction to watch as the Orcs deformed so greatly that if it wasn't an instant death, they wished for it.

[Avalanche] pushed my strength to new heights and even though I was trying to hold back, a mere tap tore bloody holes through their flesh. Which only caused the blood problem to get worse.

When chest cavities busted upon my hammer like a grotesque balloon, there was only so much I could do to keep my weapon free from the corrosive liquid.

Which was not much.

My armor was wearing down as well. [Frost Armor] pulled more and more mana to maintain and it started to break off and crack more easily. The structure not as firm. In the back of my head, there had been a chime different than a kill notification and my armor resisted better. I hadn't even noticed, my focus so intent on the slaughter.

I fought on for there was nothing else I could do. Giving up wasn't in my nature and I sure as shit wasn't going to let myself be overrun.

Not now, not ever.

The crack came suddenly. Both hands propelled the hammer through the air and smashed it down onto a Champion in my sight when the vile blood weakened it enough.

The rent was comparatively small when in proportion to the rest of the hammer. Tiny even, but it used my own tactics against me. The same plan we used to deal with the Boss monster of the Baron Wave.

Where we used a small cut to continually dig deeper using fire and ice. Instead, it was blood seeking to destroy my hammer one small crack at a time.

The rent opened up a new area for the blood to go and it wasn't long until more of the small cracks were made. More yet after they were filled with the corruptive energies.

I did what I could, but it was a losing battle from the start. As long as there was more blood to flow, it would continue to eat away at my weapon. And there was more blood to flow.

I wasn't sure what the extent of [Frostbound Hammer] was.

Frostbound Hammer(Legendary) – A splinter of the weapon once wielded by the Jotnar King Thiassi thousands of years ago. The ice this hammer was forged from still holds some of his spirit and must be awakened to show its true power. Combine with other splinters to bring back its full might. Only given to the mightiest of warriors with a strong ice affinity and bound to you in frost once summoned.

I'd used it for years. It had been by my side for countless battles, and I still hadn't discovered all its secrets. I knew I could feel where it was. The link between us allowed for that much, but I wasn't sure how far that went.

The other part about it being a weapon wielded by someone else had no bearing on me. I didn't know who Thiassi was. I wasn't even sure what a Jotnar King was exactly, but I could make an educated guess.

If the System was giving out a fragment of his hammer as a Legendary skill, it had to be someone powerful, but how powerful?

It held some of his spirit, what did that mean exactly?

Right now, as it cracked and splintered, it felt like a part of me was cracking and splintering. Like my arm was slowly being ground apart.

Bound to me in frost.

It seemed that the connection was more than just being able to locate it. This was the first time I'd been conscious when my weapon was damaged. The only other time was when the explosion destroyed it but I wasn't awake to feel it.

I was awake now and it hurt.

I'd poured everything I had into the weapon when I summoned it. All I could. My mana, my spirit, and my Laws. All of it. And it was slowly getting pulled apart at the seams.

If this was happening to my beloved hammer, it was happening everywhere. The metal of swords were breaking down. Axes and maces were deteriorating. If this fight continued, everyone would be without a weapon to fight with.

It didn't spell well for what was to come, but that wasn't something I could change and it wasn't something I could do anything about.

I had to push the thought out of my head.

My hammer, my foes, and the battlefield in front of me were all that mattered. Not even the chimes in my head.

Sinking to intuition over trying and failing to fight off the corrosive blood, I did the only thing that came to mind. I flooded the area with [Desolate Blizzard]. I leaned and pushed on my Ice Law to drive temperatures as low as I could go.

The Blood fought what I was trying to do. It didn't like being altered, even if the temperature around it demanded that it freeze. It laughed in the face of science. It didn't care that I was blasting it with temperatures so low that it should have frozen three times over.

It fought the Ice Mana trying to freeze it. Fought the Law behind the mana empowering such concepts. How it did that was a mystery I couldn't think about right now.

I could only push harder.

Using considerably more power than it should have, the blood around me started to freeze solid. Layer upon layer on my hammer was the first to freeze. My mana coursing through it amplified by its inherent properties.

As I saw that my plan worked, I yanked with [Ice Manipulation]. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't delicate. With the might of my full abilities and mind, I wrenched the blood off my weapon. Another chime.

It cracked apart, some sections trying to stay stuck but I was relentless. I yanked the corrupted ice off in sheets and as new blood froze, I did the same.

The ice fought my influence. The only other time I'd had someone fight for influence over my ice was when sparring with Gabriel.

This was worse.

Still, I couldn't allow it to continue. I wouldn't be powerless without my hammer but I would take a hit. Not least of which because of the pain involved.

I'd been beaten up before. Crushed and speared through. Sliced and cut. Lost a finger, an arm, and an eye. Broken damn near every bone in my body.

Pain wasn't new to me. It was an old friend.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

I used it to fuel my anger. My rage. [Righteous Fury] wanted to activate. It was rearing back and ready to go. It wished to be let out, and I let it.

Its boost washed over me and I started slaughtering all the faster. My legs pumped that much more strength into my swings. My arms dragged my cracked hammer that much faster through the air.

I'd long gotten used to the side effect of the skill, but it was times like this that I let it cloud my head. It dulled the pain, but I let it do just enough to not hinder me.

A mindless brute was the last thing I wanted to become.

I noticed the Orcs getting stronger. The Champions became more and more frequent and arrows from Hunters were flying regularly now. Our side fought back. Arrows and spells were endless in their destruction.

I couldn't see where the front line had gone. The Warriors who had stood at my side either retreated or died. Only a few still stood but I couldn't spare a glance to look back and count.

Austin still lived as his light shone brightly. Jonathan as well as the earth rumbled under my feet. I could feel the steadfast fountain of power he was pulling on. His Anchor was undeniable.

I only feared that it would be literal.

I couldn't even spare thoughts for my family.

Wind howled as I had to pull on it. Arrows that would have landed started to soar by instead. My Wind just enough to blow them off course. The Champions were strong enough that the Wind did basically nothing, but it worked to cut down on arrows impacting me.

I had a few arrow shafts sticking out of me from precise shots and I didn't care to add any more. The shafts were broken to nubs as the fight continued but I could still feel the arrowhead inside me.

It tore skin and muscles as I moved. If I hadn't refined my Body to Stone, it would have been a lot worse but they could only go so deep. My organs were safe and it was a mild nuisance at best, but the pain added up.

Champions approached me in pairs, then trios, then groups. The ratio was now entirely elite that poured out of the Obelisk. The alien construction invisible through the chaos.

Even in the middle of the day, it was impossible to see.

My hammer killed them all.

My Ice couldn't do it. It couldn't stand the onslaught of so many. Not unless I poured more mana than I was willing to in the skills.

My Bloodline burned through my veins as I tapped into more power. [Avalanche] reached its peak and it wasn't enough to keep up with the gradual increase in difficulty.

I was at my peak.

It was as far as I could go.

My Bloodline, [Avalanche], [Fury], all burning as bright as they could go.

The only thing that could any further was [Glacial Presence] and I couldn't waste the mana to get it there. [Avalanche] doubled my physical stats. [Righteous Fury] pushed them 22.5% higher. [Glacial Presence] currently teetered around a 20% boost.

It felt like I was tearing apart at the seams. If my body had been Wood, I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it.

A body wasn't meant to be pushed as far as I was pushing. It was why boosting skills weren't stacked to infinity. Why someone couldn't stand in front of 100 Supports and be invincible.

The only reason I hadn't already pulled myself apart was because of my Body of Stone and my high Fortitude. My Bloodline also worked double duty, strengthening and fortifying my body.

Still, it felt like I was on fire even though my entire body was ice cold. Slowly burning out.

My hammer splintered again. My body strained. My mind pushed harder to freeze everything around me.

All sensory details were lost as I had too much to focus on.

I smashed and I smashed and I smashed.

My hammer reaped lives at a speed the Grim Reaper would weep at. It howled as the air struggled to get out of its way. My muscles ripped, tore, and burned to keep its flight steady and destructive.

Frost built around me for no other reason than it had to. My Bloodline plunged my body into sub-zero temperatures and instead of working up heat as I exerted myself, I cooled even further.

As I pulled and pulled on my Bloodline. As my Mana Heart pumped Arctic Mana through my veins. As I pulled on my Law to cool the area around me. It was inevitable.

It was destined.

The corruption couldn't stop it. It could only delay it.

I smashed.

The frost built.

The shouting and cries from others fell away. I didn't even have the reassuring flashes of light that Austin was still alive. I couldn't feel the rumble under my feet caused by Jonathan ripping up the earth.

I couldn't feel the Water drilling down from behind me that my Sister provided.

I couldn't...

I couldn't...

I smashed. I stood my ground and smashed. Crushed. Killed so swiftly and utterly my eyes barely registered the object in front of me before my hammer tore through it.

A cry of primal pain ripped through me. My hammer shattered. The shaft splintering in my hands and the head shooting off in pieces.

The head of ice so cold that it caused frostbite from a touch shattered and went flying through the air in directions unknown. Bodies dropped further away but I couldn't...

My hands bled from the muck covering them. It had pooled and saturated through my ice and gauntlets and the blood now contacted my skin.

My Spirit wavered after my hammer broke. It felt like a piece of me was ripped out and stomped on. The pain was great, but I couldn't...

My hands formed bloody fists and my savagery continued. I didn't need a hammer to leverage my strength. Over 4000 points of it now.

My hands blew holes through chests. They vaporized heads. They wrought the same destruction my hammer would have.

Ice coalesced and formed into a club. I couldn't form it into something better and could only resort to a club. It soared through the are and shattered upon an Orc Champion.

The shards drove deep into its flesh and it fell convulsing to the ground next to the thousands of others.

Another club formed and the same result.

I smashed.

I destroyed.

I stood and broke everything that came near.

The frost around me turned a murky black.

The blood under me froze into disgusting shards of ice.

I yelled and screamed. I roared my defiance to no one and everyone. To the one person that mattered.

Myself.

I pulled on my Anchor. I pulled on my Bloodline. I pulled on everything I could to remain standing.

To remain in front of the tide that would harm those behind me.

But even that wasn't the biggest reason.

I pulled and pulled to stand Victorious when this was all over.

My body destroyed itself slowly because I still stood.

[User]
Write Chapter 279 - Fury of the Naiad
Target length: ~2300 words

[Assistant]
Abigail

Lightning flashed and thunder boomed with the force of a thousand cannons. The rain danced around her and leapt to her touch. It whipped down, shot out in jets, and cut through the earth in large scythes. She cut down every Orc in sight but it still wasn't enough. [Water Manipulation] was pushed to the limit.

Her brain strained to keep up with what she was ordering of it. It had to keep up.

The wall shook and parts of stone rained down. It shook again before the Orc Chieftain was defeated. After the Hunters and Champions came the Chieftains. They were larger, stronger, and all around more deadly than before. It took longer for her Water to cut through them.

They towered over the normal Orcs that were sent to soften them up at the beginning. Those Orcs were already slaughtered and driven into the muddy ground where thousands fought upon their dead bodies.

Thousands of dead. Human dead. Hours of people dying.

The field was filled with the bodies of the fallen but the rest fought on through the hours regardless. The rain had long since turned the ground harrowing. If it hadn't, the ocean of blood would have.

Instead, it was a murky red sea that was half water, half blood, and half whatever else dragged into the mess.

Her hair glowed in an array of spirited blues and fluttered out behind her. The one good thing about calling on her bloodline, getting her hair out of her face. It defied both gravity and physics, as it should be sticking to her skin and matted down by the rain, but it flowed through the air in streams.

She didn't like using it too often as she wasn't accustomed to the side effects yet. She'd reached too far. She'd thought herself stronger and it was still difficult to not be affected by emotions and thoughts that weren't hers, but she needed it now.

"Rachel! Focus on the right flank!" Abigail called out. Two Chieftains were heading in that direction. "Hal, focus on the left!"

Her Core strained at the amount of mana she was pulling from the air and using. She split attention to both gather it and use it at the same time. The Water Mana was abundant from both the River at her back the rain falling from the sky.

It pleased her Bloodline to have ready access to such lively sources of Water. Freshwater as well. An emotion she didn't mind having, but it still wasn't hers.

Arrows packed with force outdoing even the Orc Hunters rifled through the air splitting the rain around it slammed home on their left flank and fires raged on their right.

Just as she was strained, Rachel and Hal were both strained and they didn't have the option to rip the mana from the air. Fire Mana wasn't abundant. Not on their side at least. The thick columns of smoke were raging across the battlefield, but not here. Water snuffed any flame out.

As it should.

The Orcs had spilled out of the obelisk for hours and there was only so much longer they could fight. There had already been those who fell after running out of mana or stamina.

Warriors driven long past where their bodies could handle. Mages passing out from depleting too much mana. All to last that much longer.

It was endless.

How Jon was still out there fighting was a constant worry and it was one she couldn't focus on for long. Chris was an even bigger problem.

They hadn't seen him in over an hour. The last sighting had him holding his ground out in front but the smoke, haze, darkness, and worsening conditions made visibility impossible.

The regular and consistent blasts of Cold and Arctic Mana were comforting, but even that had disappeared. Either drowned out by everything else, or something much worse, but she couldn't focus on that.

Even the bodies had stopped. His hammer had the side effect of launching whatever he hit flying when his full strength was behind it. Which was always when he fought for long enough.

With all his boosts, bodies rained down broken and disfigured when he hit them just right. Although it was gruesome, it was reassuring to know he was still alive.

But that had stopped and no more bodies rained.

"Mayor! Marcus is being driven back! His Southern flank is wavering!" Those who were out of mana fought through the exhaustion and headaches to act as runners.

They ran all over to bring her information and all of it was bad. Not one good thing came out of this test. Not one.

"I'll go. Stay here," A gust of Wind tore through the wall and before Abigail could raise abjections, her Mother was off. She'd been a literal whirlwind. Helping wherever she was needed.

Her Mother was skilled and had the levels and power to back her up, but she didn't have the upfront stopping power of other members of her family. Instead of staying in one spot and holding it against all odds, she traveled around and helped where she was needed.

Her Winds helped facilitate that.

It also made Abigail's job just that much easier, but it was still a big enough job that her mind was on fire.

A flash of light Heralded another family member she hadn't seen in too long.

"Austin, what's the situation!" She yelled.

He huffed and bent over, trying to catch his breath and speak at the same time, "I can't... I- I can't any longer." Water and blood poured off him and if it hadn't been raining, he'd be soaked in sweat instead.

His body held a simmering glow from extensive power use or from his Bloodline. Probably both. Steam wafted up from the residual heat from his head. His helmet long lost to the fight.

His face was scarred and blood trickled down a few newer wounds but she couldn't waste her mana on healing right now.

"Austin!" she screamed, "What's going on!"

She couldn't allow time for him to recover. She needed to know what he knew now.

"They're still coming -huff- with no end in sight. I saw them still pouring out -huff- but nothing bigger than the Chieftains." Austin used to be out front picking off the elites but he'd long ago run out of steam.

His Anchor was dry and his mana was petering. His skin was an angry red and flaking off. Almost peeling, in an extreme sunburn kind of way. He drew too long on his boosting skills.

"I need you with Rachel on the right!" Hopefully, their synergy would help them conserve what little they had left in the tank.

"Abigail... I can't." He faltered and nearly fell, "I've got nothing left."

She knew that. She saw that with her eyes, her mana, and her healing experience. She knew what state he was in but asked it of him anyway.

Even his equipment spoke of the state he was in. His armor was torn, punctured, and chipping apart from the vile blood. Hastily healed wounds visible through the holes. His spear, the spear Vinny and Chris were so proud of, chipped and cracked.

It was a miracle it wasn't broken completely. It was also why his mana was sucked dry. Extending every attack to preserve his spear would make every kill take that much more.

"Austin!" She grabbed his chest straps and lifted him up, "I don't care if you have to use a stick from the ground, we need you out there!"

If the Wall fell...

"We need to push!" A call rang out.

She shot out another jet of pressurized water at a charging Chieftain and looked down at the Wall. Every Warrior down below had either died or retreated. Every one but Chris and Jon.

Chris because he wouldn't and Jon because he couldn't. Jon was the only thing keeping the Wall from being overrun.

Without anyone to drive the fight away from the Wall, the bodies built up at the base. Enough of them created a ramp of sorts. A way for the Orcs to easily climb up and over their only fortification. The only thing saving them.

Which made clearing the bodies a priority.

"Water!" Her order rang and nearly every Water Mage stopped what they were doing.

She reached at the River behind them, the murky brown water from the muddy banks, and pulled. Her and every other Water mage pulled together.

A tidal wave rose up and over where they stood before crashing down on the other side of the Wall. The force of thousands of gallons of water violently pushed everything away.

The piles of dead, the ramp of bodies, even the charging Orcs. Everything was swept away by the weight of so much rushing water. The Wall was cleared for the moment.

Until it built up again and another tidal wave would be required.

A few mages dropped. The strain of pulling so much water their last straw. Healers ran up and down the wall pulling those away. The medical centers and tents were already overrun. The nature of the Blight made healing wounds that much harder.

The first who had fallen had made their way back into the fight already but those who returned became fewer and fewer. Healers were running out of... everything.

Mana for skills, healing herbs, bandages, potions, and salves. Everything they had packed or their Alchemists had made for the fight had been used. No one had anticipated fighting for so long. No one had anticipated the injuries to be so many.

Nearly every person had sustained a wound of some kind or had gotten blood on them. A cut, scrape, stab, anything. Healers ran triage as best they could but there were too many people hurt and not enough people to heal them.

Abigail wished for it to end. Prayed for it to end.

"The Great Druid Fell!" A runner shouted, "The North Wall is breached!"

She'd known the Faction to their North was in a rough shape but this threw a wrench into everything they had planned. A runner an hour ago came with news of them being pushed back, but this was so, so much worse.

The Roots from the Druid were the only thing keeping their Wall from falling and after he died...

"Change of plans, Austin," She yelled at the man who still hadn't moved, "Hold the North. The Trench will help but if they get behind us..."

"Abigail..." She expected him to say he couldn't. She expected- "I won't be able to do it alone." His hunched form straightened for a second. He pulled together the dregs he had left.

He was right. He wouldn't be able to do it alone. "Gabriel! Alice! Go with him!"

Her brother looked at her with concern. Their family was spread along the line with a few in each spot, but most were located far from the center. Chris was single-handedly lessening the impact for the middle of their line.

It allowed them to send people elsewhere to where they were needed. The flanks were getting hit the hardest, so the strong went there. Elliot, Hal, Jon, and Rachel held the flanks.

Although the Center was thinner than elsewhere, they had fewer Defenders to compensate. Gabriel and Alice were her only backup now that her Mother had left. Both Ice Mages were her only support near her level, and she was sending them away.

"Abigail, no," Gabriel started. He'd been slinging ice for as long as she had, his phantom tails waving behind him, "You won't be able to hold this alone."

"It won't matter if we get surrounded!" She yelled harshly, "Hold the North Gabe! I'll be fine!"

All three knew that probably wasn't true. Yet they left all the same. The threat of getting surrounded was too great.

With no end in sight, and thousands of Orcs still charging at them, she would have to hold the center for as long as she could. Her Bloodline and Mana against endless foes.

It was a good thing she still had a little left in the tank. Her dread at drawing too deeply on her Bloodline left just enough for her use now.

She threw her reservations to the wind and drew deeply on the energy deep inside her. The Well of Power that she had left as unperturbed as possible. A glowing orb of vibrant blue. It was thicker than Water, but its essence teemed with the feeling of rushing streams and raging rivers.

It was the essence of Flowing Water in an orb. Both the life-bringing qualities of moving water and the destructive qualities it could so easily turn into.

Her hair deepened in color and flowed more harshly as she leaned into the destruction. The rage. The rising waters of a river tearing everything away. The destruction from flash floods.

The death that something so lively could bring.

Naiads were usually depicted as childlike and joyful. Full of vibrant energy, but they could also be the bringers of destruction. Wroth with hate and anger that could so easily turn a once lovely stream into something so much worse.

That Essence, the Essence of the Naiad flowed through her and she pulled on the Water around her. The Water saturating the ground, the water falling from the air, the water at her back, and she wove it into something so terribly destructive.

With the Fury of a Naiad, Abigail drowned all that she could and prayed for it to end.

[User]
Write Chapter 280 - War Leaders
Target length: ~2000 words

[Assistant]
Jayla

"Ma'am, we need to retreat!"

"The Wall is lost!"

Stone reached out and crushed another Orc as she vented her anger. Her command structure was new and without Walter, it wasn't up to her standard. It didn't help that so many had died and new people had to slide in to replace them.

"The Wall will not fall!" She ground out in frustration. "We will not retreat!"

She'd spent days going over the Wall, fortifying the stone, joining the blocks together. It wasn't going to fall. Not when her two feet were still anchored to the ground.

Mana poured out of her at an alarming rate to keep the stone sturdy. The blood upon its surface was eating away at its integrity. Her Professional skills from creating the Wall were slowly getting washed away one stray drop of blood at a time.

She wasn't alone in her efforts to keep the Wall intact, and there were dozens of others fighting off the corruption, but if this didn't end soon, they were going to lose.

It didn't much matter if the Wall was lost at that point. They would all be dead anyway.

"Where's Travis!" She hadn't seen him in a while and he was supposed to be helping her. The last she'd felt the taint of fire was nearly an hour ago.

"Fighting deeper in, his skills wreck the area and he started to damage his own people!" She didn't know who answered.

"What about Devin!" She asked.

She hadn't known Devin long, but they'd come together with Travis. The three of them had an alliance of sorts to face this threat together. It helped they were all close enough together that traveling together was easier than separately.

His Winds were annoying, but they were powerful.

"Devin's Dead!"

He died?

He may not be as sturdy as her, but he was a Baron. There was a strength required to receive that title yet he had already fallen.

"What of his Faction?!" He was supposed to be defending the section to the south. Travis held the North and she was in the middle. If Devin had fallen, they didn't have anyone strong enough to defend their portion of the Wall.

"Getting pushed back. They'll lose the Wall in less than an hour without him!"

Jayla could change that. She had skills and abilities she hadn't taken out yet, but she had to weigh the worth. If she held his Wall, his Faction would have something to fight behind. They wouldn't continually lose ground.

But it would weaken hers. If she had to spread her protection further, her own Wall would suffer. It would drain her faster and it would cost her.

If she did, and the fight continued, she'd fall the same as Devin had.

I can't.

She wanted to. She desperately wanted to, but she couldn't. As much as the thought of leaving his Faction to their fates angered and saddened her, there was nothing she could do.

If Travis fell too, they would be screwed.

Instead, she started planning for the inevitable fall of Devin's Faction. Either through retreat or death, she had to be ready. The Earth rushed up through her feet and the ground started to shift.

Every other time she'd grasped its power, it had been reluctant. Hard to change and harder still to alter, but not this time. It was relatively eager compared to her efforts before.

She wove it through the Wall under her feet and spread it throughout its length. The Wall strengthened and spikes shot out from its bottom, skewering the Orcs trying to climb it or break it down. Jayla used the very Wall she stood upon to fight for her. It was both to push the bodies away and to kill anything too close.

When was the last time I had to do that?

The battle had gone on for hours at this point and her mind wasn't as sharp. Details started to mix together and exhaustion was rearing its head.

It feels like it's been longer than before.

"Garrett!" Without Walter, Garrett was the person she trusted most. Him being a Healer meant he was probably still alive. They weren't on the front lines holding the top of the Wall where the most casualties were.

"Yes!"

"Is it just me, or are the Orcs slowing!"

The prattle in the beginning were easy enough to smash or crush. That got harder when the Champions started pounding on her Wall, but it was still easy enough for her power to deny them.

The Chieftains were when the difficulties arose. They hit like meteors upon the Wall. Heavy and quick with their weapons. Not even the beast she'd fought to get her Baroness title was as hard as defending against the Chieftains together.

Garrett ran up the Wall and looked out over the battlefield in front of them. Jayla had gazed out to confirm her theory, but she didn't want to be wrong. She didn't want to give herself hope.

Her words were heard by more than just Garrett and she saw more and more people came to the same realization as she had.

"The Orcs are breaking!"

"They're slowing!"

Any attempts to prevent false hope were thoroughly thrashed. Everyone picked up on what was said and it spread quicker than wildfire. It was the second Wind that some people needed. The small reassurance that the battle wasn't a lost cause.

Jayla knew better. This wasn't the end. She'd thought that during the Baron Wave and nearly died. This wasn't the end. The test wasn't over.

A massive wave of baleful aura crashed out from the obelisk. It washed over everything like a tsunami, smothering everything nearby and everything felt it.

"ROARRRRRRR" What followed was a bone-rattling roar. It put the rumbling thunder overhead to shame. It caused it to cower, as it seized the air and forced it to tremble.

"ROARR" It was mirrored a moment later by a roar matching its own.

"ROARR" Then another.

"ROARR" Then another.

Jayla should have seen that coming. There were four sides.

There were four of whatever was coming.

* * *

The Admiral

His halberd bit into the Chieftain and cleaved through its chest sheering it near in two. He leapt back and attacked the next Chieftain before its blood could rain down. He'd been caught too many times by it to make the error again.

The next Chieftain fell and he ripped his weapon free and did it again. And again.

His men were dying and that was all he had to think of to keep moving forward. So many had perished. So many that he felt breathe their last. It fueled him. Gave his muscles strength when all they wanted to do was falter. Sharpened his mind when all it wanted to do was turn to mush.

Of the teams he'd painstakingly hand-picked and trained, over most were shattered apart. Totaled together, nearly half were dead. There wasn't time to shuffle and accommodate. They fought with what they had.

Hendricks fought not far away eyes ablaze and sword deteriorating. Gonzalez at his side, muscles rippling and teeth bared. Leaning into the animalistic instincts of his Bloodline. The bear of a man was riddled with blackened wounds, but he stayed fighting.

Pricilla, a once dignified and decorated Staff Sergeant, stood covered in blood and gore over her fallen team. Her spear danced and brought death to those who had felled them.

His heart tore but that wasn't for the here and now. No, what would be grieved would be grieved later. They were at War and the battle had to be won. No matter the cost.

"Sir," A fighter shouted from the Wall behind him. "Reports state the Obelisk is slowing down!"

What?!

"Report Now!" He faced down two more Chieftains while listening to the information.

"Scouts say the rate disgorged is slowing! It's now a trickle compared to before."

"You have visual confirmation?!" He hoped they did. They wouldn't be bringing this to him if they didn't, but he had to ask.

"Yes, sir, but there's a problem!" The fighter shouted. "Reports say the Obelisk is building in strength!"

What? Why would it build in strength if the number of Orcs was decreasing?

His Tactical Skills quickly spit out a few reasons. The strength of the Obelisk had increased in sharp spikes twice already. When the Champions and Hunters started coming through and when the Chieftains started coming through.

The only difference those times was the number of Orcs wasn't affected. The strength of the Obelisk increased and the strength of the Orcs increased.

His Skill warned him. They shouted at him, but even they weren't prepared for the earth-shaking roar followed by three others.

The sky-splitting sound rattled through his body and brought a fear he'd long thought dead.

A second runner came flying in as fast as his feet could carry him. "Sir, four Orc War Leaders spotted!"

The Admiral didn't even ask for a level. Every single Orc spat out of the accursed Obelisk was exactly level 100. Even though the power between the regular Orcs and the Orc Chieftains was enormous, they were both the same level

If these War Leaders were any different, that would have been the first thing mentioned. The fact it hadn't meant they were similarly level 100. How something could be that powerful and still be in the same rank as them was mind-boggling, but it was fact.

He could feel them from here. The pressure was palpable and the fear was very real. He didn't need a report to know where they were, they broadcasted that like giant neon pillars.

The four War Leaders were all headed in different directions. One was headed South, right toward where he stood. It was closing in at a remarkable pace that could only mean it was actively seeking him out. Zuri and Liam were close by, but it felt like he was the one being targeted rather than them.

Another shot West, the third went North, and the last went East.

The War Leaders sprang out of all four sides of the Obelisk and rushed toward the strongest defenders they could locate.

He stuttered to remember who was all stationed in the line of the War Leaders. The entire sectioned map was out of reach as it was far too much to remember, but he dedicated time to know where the notables were.

He'd met Zuri and Liam before when they were liberating the coast so they'd chosen Sections close to him and he hoped they would be of aid.

Who defended the West were unknowns. They'd come from far away and they had no knowledge of them beforehand. They came as a trio and had all chosen sections next to each other in the West. Mountainside, Yellowstone, and Mile High.

The North was a mix of knowns and unknowns. They'd heard tale of The Stormbringer before, but the other two were mysteries. Especially the one they suspected, now confirmed, to be a Necromancer.

The East were two more unknowns. They were suspected to be from the Far North. One in Minnesota and the other even further than that. The Great Lakes Alliance was also in the East, but those two stood out more.

Other Factions were spread thoroughly around but those were the first to come to mind and the only ones he suspected had the strength to stand up to the War Leaders.

He couldn't think about the other directions, he had to focus on his own first.

"Hendricks, Gonzalez, Pricilla, we have incoming!" He ordered and turned back to the runners bringing him news, "Go get Zuri and Liam!"

"Liam's dead, sir!"

Fuck! "Get Zuri then!"

The aura thickened and he knew the fates were readying his thread.

[User]
Write Chapter 281 - By the Grace of God
Target length: ~2600 words

[Assistant]
Marcus

The insects had nothing on the blight-touched Orcs. Oh, they were deadly, quick, persistent, and all around not a fun time, but they weren't endless like the Orcs were. They also had the option to retreat when facing the bugs that they didn't have now.

They'd either win or lose a battle relatively quickly versus the swarm. Not this drawn-out battle ticking up there in hours. It had been at least 4 by now! That was insane!

Mana dried up. Anchors ran dry. Stamina bottomed out, yet the Orcs were still coming.

Marcus had thought at first the test wouldn't be so bad. Sure, the Orcs were level 100 but they weren't that hard to kill. The Champions had some extra oomph, but they weren't that hard. The Chieftains took a regular team working together to take down, but it wasn't...

That all went out the window in the face of the tide. The tide of battle had started at their back. High and mighty they were, but slowly, ever so slowly, the tide had shifted.

Marcus had felt it.

With every death, with every spell draining the last of a mage's mana, with every warrior collapsing having swung his last. It was a battle of attrition and they were losing.

Marcus himself nearly lost.

His glaive was visibly rusted from the mistake of leaving blood on its surface and the waters raging around him were tainted black from Orc blood. He did his best to but he could only do so much.

He nearly collapsed in euphoria when he felt the tides shifting. Instead of slowly being lost to the other side, they started to come back. A few drops of water at first, nearly imperceptible to his senses.

Then the flow intensified. Then it grew even more.

The feeling caught him so off guard that Marcus nearly lost an arm trying to find out the reason. It wasn't until the Chieftains around him thinned that he realized.

The Orcs were slowing down.

The wave was ending. The horde had run dry.

Then they came. All the momentum they had built up. The tide that had finally started to swing back in their direction was lost. Ripped away just as all sound was ripped away by the earth-shaking roars.

Marcus felt the War Leader coming for him. It was impossible not to. The vicious aura blanketed the area, causing some to back away in fear. All four directions had an enemy to deal with. There would be no help coming.

It was up to him and Chris, who he hadn't seen hide nor tail of in hours.

Marcus solemnly wished the man wasn't dead. He wasn't sure he could beat the War Leader alone. Scratch that, he was sure he couldn't beat the War Leader alone.

Not as tired and drained as he was. If he was in prime condition, maybe, but he was far from being in prime condition. Everyone was. Unless they sat back and did nothing for hours, everyone was running dry.

His Mana Pool, severely enhanced by his new Mana Cultivation, was running on empty, let alone the people who didn't even make that Step yet.

As the Chieftains thinned and their reckoning came ever closer, he finally had the mental capacity to weigh his options. He could run. Nothing said he had to die in an unwinnable battle.

He turned back and gazed over his people behind him. The little that were left. He prayed that the makeshift first-aid tents were so overrun, that seven more were hastily constructed and that was where everyone was, but he couldn't delude himself.

There were enough lifeless eyes peering back at him to know where most of his people were and it wasn't in hospitals.

No.

It wasn't vengeance that rushed through him. The sight of so many of his people dead angered him, sure, but he didn't turn back to the War Leader with vengeance in his heart.

It was resolve.

Everyone was tired. The hospitals had to be overflowing, with less than he hoped, but enough that moving them would be impossible.

If he didn't step up and face the powerful Orc, it would kill everyone here. He had to do his duty whether he wanted to or not.

The only good thing was he had time to catch his breath. No man's land, as Marcus called it, was awash with craters, pock-marks of various sizes, raging fires, and man-made ponds.

The environment was so thoroughly destroyed that getting through it was a challenge in its own right. The rain and blood-soaked ground stuck and slowed down those charging through it, the rents from battle forced detours. The siege weapon craters turned murky swimming pools had to be avoided.

He had time to lean on his glaive and gather what he could.

The din of battle had rushed by him and left his ears struggling to recover. They only picked up the rumbling thunder overhead or the sharp crack of distant lightning.

He hadn't realized there was a gap but he was grateful for it.

The walking disaster closed in which forced his tired, aching legs to move. Against all self-preservation instincts, he walked toward the domineering aura.

Far to his left, he felt another following in his footsteps. Last he heard, the Great Lakes Alliance was stationed over there, but he didn't much care about that at this point.

Not now.

Marcus noticed that his path was taking him toward where Chris once stood. He'd felt the frigid Arctic earlier in the battle from the area but it had been drowned out as the fight intensified.

Slush coated the land. Blackened and dirty shards of ice half melted crunched underfoot as he walked. Lakes turned half frozen and a light dusting of snow coated the land. It was far from the pristine white that a fresh snowfall created. Instead, a grey and black that made it look closer to ash than fresh snow.

The snow was the least interesting. It was the bodies. Thousands of bodies. Some were only parts of bodies, the rest lost somewhere or crushed into nothingness.

Body after body blanketed the land and he began to walk on them instead of the ground itself. If there was an idea in his mind of being able to win against Chris, it was crushed now. Thoroughly the supremely.

"Marcus," a voice surprised him and he turned to see someone he hadn't expected. Not out here in no man's land at least. Her hair floated limply in the air and was more mud than hair at this point. She limped forward on her staff at nearly the same pace as himself.

"Abigail," He responded. "It's good to see you aren't dead."

He hadn't felt her approach and it wasn't because she was being stealthy. The overabundance of Water Mana in the air naturally hid her own, but there was barely enough of it left to be noticeable. Her Core was petering on fumes trying its best to replenish itself with the mana in the air.

"Have you seen Chris?" She asked laced with dread. It wasn't hard to hear the worry in her voice.

Marcus shook his head, "No, only his handiwork." He motioned at all the bodies and ice. "Is anyone else coming?"

The War Leader, while slowed by the terrain, was still closing in. He didn't know all of their family, but he knew they were powerful. He'd fought with Austin before and was surprised to not see him swaggering up to help.

He saw and felt only Abigail.

"No," she breathed sadly, "Austin collapsed when the Orcs stopped. Healers are looking at him but he won't be here for that." Her hand listlessly waved in the direction of what was coming. "Everyone else is either dead or collapsed."

Her voice was emotionless. Too far gone to care and that was saying something. The woman who had talked his ear off about those she cared about couldn't muster up the words.

She spoke of dead family members like it was the weather.

"Your husband?" Marcus questioned and hoped... He'd met the man before and had grown to like him.

"Alive," she answered firmly. "I made sure of it."

They'd stopped to talk and recover which allowed the presence he felt trailing him to catch up. Both turned to take in the newcomer. Or newcomers, he should say.

"Is this it?" The newcomer voiced tiredly, "The five of us against that."

The speaker was a man Marcus barely recognized. The older gentleman from the meeting looked war-torn and covered in muck, blood, and other viscera. Patrick Staffords, if he remembered correctly, Leader of the Great Lakes Alliance.

At his back were two others both with wild flaring auras that were nearly a match for Marcus's own. Patrick carried an axe in either hand while the two behind him, a man and a woman, both carried staves.

The thin covering of Water was the only thing keeping the axes free of the corrosive blood, the same trick Marcus used with his glaive. He'd learned quickly his weapon would be lost if he didn't cover it.

A group of five from all over the land stood together. It was poetic in a way Marcus dismissed as irrelevant.

"Six," the woman interrupted, "There's another further ahead."

"Further ahead?" Patrick asked incredulously, "What madman would be that deep?"

Chris still lives. A weight slightly lifted hearing that and he wasn't the only one to feel it. Abigail's relief was audible at hearing there was another person further ahead.

A hammer clanged in his mind and he gathered his wits. Now wasn't the time for this. "You and I are the front line. The man up ahead is also a warrior so he will be the third." He gestured to Patrick and himself, "You three will be the backline. I'm assuming you two are mages." He pointed at the two behind Patrick.

The aura was nearing and all of them felt it. They knew there wasn't time to discuss anything more than that and grimly nodded.

It wasn't until the woman spoke again that his plans started falling apart, "The man isn't retreating." There wasn't any worry or fear in her voice. Only a statement of fact. Apathy after seeing so many die.

Chris, you fool! Does he think he can face it alone?! After all this?!

If Abigail had more strength in her legs, Marcus would've said she shot off toward the fight but it was more of a languished sprint.

Seeing her break off, Marcus ran off after her and the three they left behind were left to wonder what was going on. "What the he-"

His words petered out as Marcus ran but he called back, "Six is better than five, come on."

He didn't have the time to explain the nuance. That Abigail was going to her brother no matter what and he was forced to follow. He could only hope they were pragmatic enough to see that following was in their best interest.

Thankfully, they were and he felt them rush after them.

Marcus followed Abigail through the bodies. The piles and piles of bodies. The ice and snow. The frosty fog. The frozen craters of water. And the bodies. So many bodies.

The air chilled as they neared and the water he had brought with him threatened to freeze.

The force wasn't strong and trivial to fight off, but the fact it was there was surprising.

The scene he came running up to made him stop dead. Abigail had run ahead without hesitation but he had to stop. It was too much to take in.

The trio caught up to him quickly and had the same reaction. Pausing next to him and looking on with a mix of emotions.

"By the grace of..." He heard one of them mutter and it wasn't far off from how he felt.

It was pure, unaltered carnage. The bodies had built and put the sea they had run through to shame. There were mountains of them. It felt like there were more lying dead or dying in this one area than his entire section combined.

In the center of the carnage stood a man. The Ice Marcus had seen him start the battle with was gone. The hammer he had once held missing. The glistening plate armor he once wore that made Marcus's own feel inadequate, hung from his battered form from fraying straps and torn leather.

The metal was bent, punctured, torn, or sheered off completely. His upper half was bare. The once thick plate lost in the battle. His helmet was gone. The only evidence that he had worn the once-resplendent suit of armor in the first place was one of the pauldrons hanging by his feet and a few plates on his legs.

Everything else was lost.

His body was riddled with black wounds. Angry and festering from the vileness the Orcs once had. The bleeding was constrained by thin flakes of ice but not completely. The infection barred the ice from closing them. Deep purple blood leaked from him and dripped to the ground.

His hands were frosted over and steaming. The thick layers of blood on both his arms extended to his elbows.

Out in front of where the man stood, was the most powerful Orc Marcus had ever laid eyes on. It towered over Chris and was nearly double the man's height. Its muscles were flared and bulging.

In one hand was a club wrought from what looked like the trunk of a tree ripped from the ground and the other held a mighty axe nearly as tall as Marcus. Its bearded blade gleamed in the rare ray of sunlight. It was the most metal he had seen an Orc carry.

The War Leader struck fear into his heart. Even from a distance and without being the focus of its attention, Marcus felt the crippling fangs of Fear build in his head.

The two mages on his side instinctively took a step back. Only he and Patrick faced the raw power and fury without faltering but he sure wanted to.

The Orc stood a distance away and stopped, taking in those who stood against it. It eyed them all and when the yellowing eyes landed on him, the urge to back away intensified tenfold.

Marcus was struck silent.

"RROAARRRR!" The ear-splitting roar was so much worse in person. It drilled into his brain and threatened to overwhelm him. Fear was an emotion that couldn't even convey the magnitude anymore. It was more Primal than that.

Primal Fear, if such a thing was enough.

His chest caught and his breath froze. His brain struggled to shake off the effect and he could only stand there frozen.

The sheer shock of what happened next jolted him awake. Like someone had taken a defibrillator to his chest.

"ROAARRR!"

It was nonsensical. It was bewildering. Incredulous.

Chris roared back. Words weren't enough to convey the raw emotion contained in the roar. One so much weaker than the Orc's but held something deeper.

It had challenged and Chris answered back. Somehow, even though he hadn't used words, Marcus understood. The deeper meaning was clear to all who heard it.

Come at me!

[User]
Write Chapter 282 - Lunatic
Target length: ~3400 words
Key events: combat-heavy

[Assistant]
Marcus

The fear fell away and he fought to keep it that way. He was no coward and he was better than that. He'd fought tides of insects and killed hundreds of Orcs, he wasn't about to be paralyzed in fear just because of one, extremely strong Orc.

An Orc that could most likely kill him in one or two blows. An Orc that looked like he could...

No! He admonished himself and fought to keep the fear at bay.

His feet were freed and he hesitantly took his first step forward. Toward the danger. Toward the Orc. That step shook off some of the paralyzing fear and the next diminished it further.

But while he had taken a paltry few steps, Chris had charged forward like it was just another enemy to face. Like this War Leader was no different than the Orcs that attacked at the start.

The lack of fear, no, more than lack, devoid of the idea, startled Marcus. Every living thing had a fear response and while Marcus' was screaming at him to get as far away from the threat as possible, it was like Christopher's was broken.

Shattered to pieces like the mountains of bodies at his feet.

Christopher didn't even know they were there! He hadn't turned and Marcus doubted he was in a state to see anything further than his eyes took in. He saw the enemy and he charged the enemy, not even realizing he had allies that had come to help him.

Marcus could tell he wasn't thinking. His eyes were wild and unfocused. His aura was the same. He'd felt Chris unleash it a few times on the boats and it was always steady as a rock. Or a glacier in his case.

It was heavy and unmoving while also bringing a nipping chill along with it. If Marcus were weaker, that chill would have bit into his skin and sought to freeze him from within, but he could fight that off.

Now, that image of a giant, unmoving glacier was replaced. In its place was a wild, fluctuating area of pure desolation. The warmth, the small piece there used to be if it could be called that, was long gone. It used to be like the cold nip of a dark winter night.

Now it was like what came after Winter had reigned unchallenged for eons. It held no warmth. No qualities that could be considered life-giving. Only destruction.

And the Cold and desolation were its instruments to achieve that.

Marcus watched as the man charged toward the Orc and cursed himself. He had a debt to repay and he was too scared to move!

His eyes flicked over to the three additions from the Great Lakes Alliance and was assured to see them in a worse state than he was in. Patrick's hands shook and the axes he held waivered only slightly while the other two mages were frozen stiff.

He looked over and expected to see Abigail in much the same state but she was nowhere to be seen. Or, she wasn't in the position Marcus last saw her, she was hundreds of feet ahead of that.

She had charged forward without stopping.

How?

She already had Water rising around her readying an attack to help her brother while Marcus was still trying to break free from the fear.

What is wrong with this family?!

Seeing his ally charge in, he marshaled his will and used it as a sledgehammer on the chains wrapping around him. He smashed it to pieces and could finally feel himself moving at a normal pace.

Finally freed, he turned and slapped Patrick next to him. It probably wasn't the most diplomatic decision to hit a fellow Faction leader, a suspected Baron at that, but those thoughts didn't matter now.

Not in the face of...

"Wha- Oh. Thank you." Patrick was startled from the hit but recovered himself well. He turned and administered the same medicine to the two mages behind him.

The man took a little more to jar free but it was only a moment of delay.

At that moment, Marcus turned back to see the first blows rain down. Chris, devoid of his hammer, used his fists to meet the Orcs club. A club the size of an ancient tree trunk, against a single man's fist.

The tree won.

Chris was driven back and his body tore a line through the piles of bodies. Marcus feared injury but that thought died as he saw the man launch himself back at the Orc like he'd just been hit with a strong Wind. Not with the weight of an entire tree swinging at insane speeds.

His skin bore a new wound that tried to ice over the bleeding but couldn't fight off the Blight to do so. Christopher's form flashed and an icy blue radiated outward. Frost built up but not in the way Marcus expected.

He'd seen the man's [Frost Armor] before, and this wasn't it. It was the natural build-up of frost on something cold. The build-up one would see on an item in a deep freezer. The skill he was using wasn't [Frost Armor], but for some reason, it felt even more powerful. Under the frost, his skin turned a shade of blue, instead of the pale white he'd seen the man as before.

A defensive skill of some kind?

Before the second strike could land, a whip made of water smashed down over the Orc's head. It barely had enough force to break the skin and any damage other than that was superficial at best. It worked to get the Orc's attention but only for a second.

Chris came flying in at a level of Strength Marcus would have said impossible if he hadn't been seeing it for himself. The Orc looking at Abigail allowed his fist to land and the meaty thud boomed over the battlefield.

Where Chris had been launched back by the club, the Orc slid back a few feet.

A disparaging level of force between the two if Marcus had ever seen one but it seemed like that fact didn't even register in Chris's mind.

"Fucking lunatic," one of the mages muttered.

That comment caused him to tear his eyes away from the non-sensical battle.

"Patrick, right?" Marcus didn't stop for him to answer, "Do you have a spare axe? Chris seems to have lost his weapon."

"You know that madman?" The older man gaffed but answered his question, "No. I usually carry a spare set but I lost them in the fight before I got the technique down."

"You mean he doesn't normally use his fists?" The woman mage muttered. From what she could see, the man was fighting comfortably without a weapon of any kind yet Marcus was saying he was down a weapon.

Marcus ignored her and plowed ahead, "The Orc seems focused on Chris so he'll tank. You and I will take the Right and Left flank." Patrick nodded, "Mages stay back and do what you can." The mages nodded more hesitantly.

"Good."

Both Abigail and Chris were in the fight and now it was time to prove his worth.

His feet were freed and he dug into the ground- bodies under him to propel himself forward. They were frozen together and didn't slip under his heavy steps which was a positive.

Patrick charged in behind him while the mages followed.

Marcus tried to get a feel for the Orc and how he would go about fighting it. His [Glaive Mastery] was high, but he doubted it was enough to face the Orc in single combat.

His [Water Scythes] were powerful, but if a [Water Whip] from Abigail barely damaged it, his [Scythes] wouldn't either. [Flash Flood] would hurt his allies more than the Orc and he was quickly running out of Skills to use. Still, he charged in anyway. Worst case he would only use his glaive and do what he could.

As he closed in, he noticed that the Orc's skin was an odd color. It wasn't green like what he imagined it would be. It also wasn't the sickly muddled color the rest had been either. It was blue, similar in hue to what Christopher's now was. Not everywhere, as the Black stripes and spots still adorned the War Leader, but everywhere with visible skin was a faded blue color instead of green.

The change was unimportant and he instead went back to planning how not to die. [Sweeping Strike] and [Water Blade] were probably his best bet. He was too low on mana for his bigger skills and while those were on the weaker side, they both worked to enhance his strikes.

They gave him an extra bit of power with his glaive and that was his best bet right now. He wasn't sure how many times he could activate them with his dwindling mana, but those were better than nothing.

Christopher and the Orc exchanged a few more blows and it was clear that Chris was losing. He had to jump away from the axe completely as he had no way to block and the club sent him tumbling back. Any ice he managed to form got shattered in the path of the massive axe.

Yet every time, he got up and charged back in like nothing had happened.

Abigail launched more spells and drills of water at the Orc but it only resulted in a small amount of black liquid seeping out. Marcus had tried to use [Water Manipulation] on the liquid earlier and it hadn't worked.

As he neared, he prayed silently. It wasn't even directed at anyone or anything, just for himself. He didn't scream or announce his presence, just set his feet and swung his glaive as powerfully as he could.

[Sweeping Strike] activated and the arc of his swing sped up and empowered it. [Water Blade] coated the edge of the blade and made the metal that much sharper.

His strike landed effortlessly as the Orc was focused completely on Chris leaving him a free strike. He saw Patrick doing the same as him, launching both his axes at the Orc's other leg.

The blade of his glaive landed and it stopped cold. The force of the sudden stop rattled up his arms and his bones ached from the vibration. Fearing retaliation, Marcus jumped back and inspected the damage.

Which was pitiful.

A wound barely a few inches long and it didn't even penetrate the skin! How the hell were they supposed to kill the thing if they couldn't damage it?!

Two more spells started raining down on the Orc. A thick lightning bolt slammed into its chest while a weaker jet of water slammed home.

A Water and Lightning Mage. A good combination.

He could tell the Lightning did increased damage as it was already soaked from the rain and Abigail's attacks, but even then, it wasn't enough to stun it for long. The patchwork hide it wore was blown away and burned, but it was only left with a black mark for the mage's trouble.

The Orc was surrounded but it didn't alter from its incessant charge at Chris. It treated Marcus and Patrick as flies. Worse than flies, as you usually waved them away. They were just ignored.

His glaive opened up a few more wounds but nothing that could change the course of the fight. He couldn't see how Patrick was faring, but he doubted it was better.

Supercharged Lightning bolts continued to rain down timed exactly after the two Water Mages doused the Orc. Marcus could see its muscles seize but only for the briefest of moments and only in a small area where the lightning hit.

Sickening black blood continued to leak out of it and the ground sizzled around them. Frozen from the cold and hardened, it began to dissolve. The water steamed and evaporated on its body and his glaive deteriorated even faster.

The War Leader's blood was even more corrosive.

Throughout it all, Chris landed punch after punch. Marcus feared his fists would break before the Orc did, but he showed no pain or indication that his hands were breaking. His body frosted over every new wound it could, but Chris was bleeding more than the Orc was.

Marcus was about to go in for another attack when Patrick called out. Delaying his attack, Marcus looked over to see the man only holding one of his two axes.

The other poked out from the Orc's knee. Slammed home and left in the wound. The shallow wound, but Patrick had opened it up wide enough to draw blood and plant his weapon inside.

"Mary! Hit it!" Patrick yelled desperately.

Marcus wasn't sure who Mary was, but he found out soon enough. The static energy bloomed and his arm hair, what was left of it, stood on end for what was about to happen.

The build-up time was well worth it as the flash and crack of lightning blinded and deafened him for a second. It was larger than anything they'd thrown yet and as his vision returned, he saw the Orc kneeling.

The Axe used as the lightning rod was melted to slag and he saw Patrick wince, but it was a worthy trade-off.

Blood poured from the newly opened wound and everyone capitalized on it. The Water Mages dug into everywhere that bled with blades, whips, and drills of water seeking to drive the wounds wider and deeper.

With a new prime target, their efforts started to bear fruit. Marcus returned to hammering his own leg and Chris... Chris did what only he could do.

With the Orc kneeling, its height was halved and brought Chris within striking range. Like a shark smelling blood, Chris shot at the Orc and before it could gather itself, punched it in the face.

The thud rocked the Orc's head back and Marcus could tell it was visibly stunned, but it lasted no longer than the Lightning bolts from before. The only difference this time was Chris didn't need time to build up another spell.

It was only a moment before his other fist landed rocking its head back once more.

Than another.

How high is his Strength?

Another Lightning blast slammed into its other leg and Marcus noticed what they were trying to do. Two streams of Water slammed into the leg right after and Marcus swung away.

They were trying to topple it on its back.

The Orc tried to right itself and stand but it couldn't. Patrick slammed his remaining axe into the back of its injured knee every time it tried and even if he hadn't, the meteor punches slamming into its face left it dazed enough.

It was then that Marcus noticed something else. The Orc was oddly sluggish. It was injured, its knee blown open, and it was currently getting beat to shit by a man turned feral, but for some reason, it was more sluggish than it should have been.

The mana in the air stirred and Marcus leapt out of the way. If he could feel the mana from here, the mages were drawing on final attacks.

He was proven right a moment later as a torrent of water slammed into the Orc while lightning hit its other leg at the same time. The force of the Water was enough to teeter it and the lightning numbed its other leg just enough.

Before the advantage wore off, Chris was there. Slamming his bloody fists home one right after the other. It was too much for the Orc. Too much for anything Marcus had seen, and it was sent careening over.

The shockwave of the Orc falling over upon its back staggered him but it didn't for someone else. Chris leapt into the air and landed on the Orc's chest.

Eyes wild and fists bloody, he pummeled the Orc with everything he had. The frost around his body left him. His skin turned back to a pale white and blood began spurting from where he was landing his punches.

Marcus couldn't tell if it was from Chris or the Orc. All of it was mixing together into a sick amalgamation of purple and black.

Thud after thud. Punch after punch. Fist after Fist.

Chris stood upon the Orc's chest and rained down blow after blow, but the Orc wasn't dying. He and Patrick weren't standing around and tried to cut open what they could, but they were ineffective.

The mages were spent, the last of their mana used to topple the War Leader.

It was up to Chris to end it.

Without a better idea, Marcus prayed Chris was there enough to hear his words. "Christopher! Take this!"

Marcus noticed the training he'd done on the boats. The ability to empower words with one's aura and hoped he'd done it right. To force the words deep enough into his brain for him to hear.

After shouting, he threw his prized weapon. The glaive he'd carried with him for nearly a year.

Whether Chris thought it was a projectile to deflect or if he heard the words Marcus shouted, his hand shot out and caught the weapon faster than his eyes could register.

His left fist continued to rain down on the Orc while his right held Marcus's weapon like it was a toothpick. As if the man was disinterested in something so light, Ice formed and built up on the weapon.

The shaft enlarged as Ice built upon it and the blade was soon encased. His once prized weapon became the core for a spike of ice.

Chris paused his punches and grabbed the spike with both of his hands. Before the Orc could raise a hand to defend, Chris raised it over his head and with a mighty shout, brought it down square on its face.

"AHHHHHHHH!"

Once wasn't enough so he did it again. And again. The ice at the tip broke off but he kept smashing the weapon down. It continued to break and shatter until the metal of the blade at its core slammed home and drove into the brain.

The Orc's body spasmed but that didn't stop Chris. He raised the blade and did it again causing another spasm. And another spasm.

The Orc stopped spasming after the fifth blow.

Essence rushed into Marcus in higher quantities than ever before. It was so much that he felt the improvements from the levels. He didn't have to check his notifications to know he sat at level 100.

The gasps from the others said they were also receiving the deluge of essence.

Only one man didn't gasp or react.

He continued to beat the Orc's face into the ground. One smash after the other.

Marcus watched as the ice around his weapon broke and shattered. Then the blade of his weapon shatter. Then the shaft of his weapon shatter.

The wooden spray of splinters should have been enough to stop the man but he continued his onslaught long after the Orc was dead.

All five of them stood and watched as the man dragged out the last of his energy pounding the Orc into paste without saying a word. They could only watch in disbelief as the thuds turned to squelches and even those turned into something more grotesque.

Either after finally realizing the Orc was dead or noticing the rush of essence and notifications signaling the end of the fight, Chris stopped. Or he was finally out of energy.

He stood up and straightened his back. His feet were firmly planted on top of the dead Orc's chest and there was even a blanket of other dead Orcs under that.

He stood, fists dripping with his own blood and the Orcs.

Wounds numerous and bleeding all over his body, chest heaving with great effort, breath pluming out in frosty fog.

Stood and screamed his victory.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

Screamed it into the liquidized face of the Orc. Into the face of the mountains of dead around him. Into the face of everyone present. Into the air and surrounding battlefield.

He stood and proclaimed victory.