Olive crept away from the treeline and toward the mixture of Wyrmlings and Iron Hounds in the center of the clearing, using the cloak of darkness that hung around Lillia as cover. And, with every step she took, her mind could only echo the same thought over and over. How did I end up here? The journey to Milten wasn’t one that she cared to remember, and her time after arriving at the city had somehow been nearly as bad. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench with anger – but it was nothing she hadn’t expected. Adventurers with open groups had never been the most respectable folks. The only things they cared about was money and power. All the good ones joined the popular guilds or started their own, and they were careful with who they let in. The people that were left over only let others join their party to fill in the empty spaces and hope that they would hold the attention of a monster long enough for them to escape if things went poorly. She’d known that, but she’d still come to Milten with hopes of finding something more. The city was at the farthest reaches of the Kingdom. It was away from all the major guilds. It was away from the best dungeons and the strongest roaming monsters. There was no reason to come here – except for the fact that it was also away from all the things she wanted to leave behind. Even still, it should have been easy enough to make a living out here. It should have been. Olive’s jaw clenched as memories ground at her nerves. Muted laughter rang in the back of her head and her missing arm tingled, as if to remind her of just how much she’d lost. She ground out the noise and shoved it to the back of her mind. The last thing she’d expected to find in Milten was anything even remotely interesting. But, as she grew closer to the Iron Hounds and their horde following the plans of a woman dressed up like a demon and a smith who hit men more than metal, she couldn’t help but wonder where things had gone wrong. The rest of his sentence was lost in a strangled scream as a shadow shot out, wrapping around his neck and dragging him into the dark. Olive spun, preparing to face her next opponent. There was nobody there. All the Iron Hounds had backed away from her, making room for a tall man to approach. He bore a jagged sword in each hand and wore leather, battle-scarred armor. It only took one look at his gait to see that he knew how to carry himself. Olive’s eyes narrowed. Easy to forget that the majority of this guild was just cannon fodder. This guy is different. He didn’t waste any words on Olive. The moment they were close, the dual-wielder lunged forward. His blades flashed, sending two arcs of wind hurtling toward her. Olive dropped to the ground, letting them pass overhead, then brought her sword up just in time to block a pair of overhead slashes. They slammed down with immense force, driving her arm out of the way. She threw herself to the side and the blades scraped against her armor, failing to find purchase in her skin. Hitting the ground in a roll, Olive shot to her feet – and was forced to dive once more as a Wyrmling snapped at her. Its jaws slammed shut above her head and its hot breath washed over her back. She rolled to the side as a clawed paw smashed into the ground where she’d been seconds before. Olive scrambled to her feet, retreating toward the darkness and making sure the Wyrmling and the new man couldn’t flank her. “You know how to fight,” the man said. “Who sent you?” “The last one asked me that too,” Olive said, taking the instant of reprieve to catch her breath. I think I might have bit off a bit more than I can chew. The Iron Hounds had several people that already showed they could fight as well as this guy. Lillia wasn’t in a position to help her. Several Wyrmlings and more than ten people had surrounded the patch of darkness. Many of them were firing spells blindly into it. Even with the imps jumping out and attacking them, they were going to land a lucky blow eventually. A blur of movement was the only warning Olive got to raise her sword. One of the dual-wielding man’s swords slammed against hers and she staggered, trying to keep her balance. The other one shot out from the opposite direction on a direct course for her gut. Olive jumped to the side, but she wasn’t fast enough to keep the sword from cutting into her armor once more. The man grinned at her and spun his blades as he advanced. “Eyes over here, sweetheart. I’ll ask one more time. Who are you with? Either tell me now or tell me while I make you scream.” He flicked two more blades of wind at Olive again. She rolled to the side, but one cut into the top of her thigh. Olive repressed the flash of pain and shot to her feet, not letting anything show on her features. The cut was relatively deep, but it wasn’t life threatening. Olive tested her leg and winced. Putting pressure on it would be difficult. What in the Nine Underlands is Reya doing? I could really use some help. “Screaming it is,” the man said with a lecherous smile. Wind coursed down the length of his blades. “Fine with me. I like it better that way.” He flashed forward – and a wave of blue energy slammed into him. He locked in place, but only for a fraction of a second. Before Olive could even try to take advantage of his delay, he slid back into motion, only mildly disoriented. The man’s blades finished their movement. Two huge blades of wind ripped out, heading straight for Olive. She tried to jump away from them, but the wound on her leg flared in pain and her lunge turned into a stumble. The twin arcs of magic hurtled straight toward her, each large enough to split her from head to toe, and there wasn’t nearly enough time to dodge out of the way. A shimmer of silver and blue whipped past Olive. Particles of moisture pattered against her face. Rodrick skidded past her, streams of water swirling away from his armor as he arrived, arms braced before his face. The water swirled before him, absorbing the arcs of wind that had been on a collision path for Olive. They still cut into his armor, but the damage they left behind was minimal. Rodrick dropped back into a sprint, drawing his sword. “Another one? Come on then.” The dual-wielder smirked and moved to meet Rodrick’s charge. The Wyrmling moved beside him, preparing to snap at whoever drew near it. The monster wasn’t anywhere near as aggressive as Olive had expected it to be, but that was likely due to being mind controlled. Water swirled around Rodrick’s blade as he brought it up beside him with a roar. The dual-wielder crossed his swords to block the strike, only for Rodrick’s blow to rip both of them out of his hands and send them tumbling to the floor. His eyes opened, but Rodrick didn’t waste the momentum of his charge. He drove his shoulder into the other man’s chest, hurling him to the ground. The Wyrm lunged at Rodrick, but a wave of shimmering blue energy wrapped around the monster, locking it in place for a moment and buying the warrior time to jump out of the way. Rodrick brought his sword down on his opponent as he tried to rise, driving it through the other man’s eye and pinning his head to the ground before Rodrick ripped his blade free. He pointed it across the clearing at Jessen, who hadn’t moved once from his spot beside the two fully grown Wyrms. “Hey, asshole!” Rodrick called, flicking the blood from his sword. “Come over here so I can stick my sword up where it doesn’t shine!” Jessen tilted his head to the side. He looked more annoyed than anything else, as if the deaths of his men was nothing but a mild inconvenience. It struck Olive that an inconvenience was probably exactly how Jessen saw this. If he was feeding all these idiots to his Wyrms and we kill them, then get fed to the Wyrms anyway, there’s almost no difference. We’ll be worth a lot more energy because we can put up a fight. For an instant, it looked like he was about to say something. The firelight illuminated his cruel face as his mouth opened and his attention fully fell on Rodrick. And, in that instant, a streak of green light flashed through the night. An earsplitting crack rang out in the light’s wake as it streaked through the air like a falling star. Jessen twisted his body, but not nearly fast enough. At the head of the shimmering light was a massive metal arrow. It drove into Jessen’s shoulder and pierced into him with such force that he spun in place. He staggered to keep his balance, his eyes wide in shock – and his concentration broke.