Bel crouched down low in the southern forest with Meph thirty feet away on the other side of the pathway and waited for the King’s men. He felt the damp earth compress below his feet and listened as the rain patted down on the surrounding leaves. It was a calm moment that did nothing to soothe the adrenaline that coursed through him. He kept feeling his mind slip away into questioning how he got here, and why he was here, and where he was—all the noise was distracting. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

  Calm.

  Alert.

  He could feel Meph in his head. When the static of his own self doubt wasn’t so overwhelming, the snake was there. He focused on Meph, and on the calm, and opened his eyes again.

  He looked back towards the camp. His line of sight was broken by Nim and Porvo’s tent, but he was close enough to hear whatever happened.

  It didn’t take long. Bel could hear Theori calling out to the King’s men. “Ho there! Who steps into the camp of Black Lerabo?”

  “Guild Hunters under contract to King Graham on an official inquiry. We have information that a usurper may be on this island, and we are checking all settlements. Stand aside.” The man’s voice was snide and self-important. Bel couldn’t see them directly, but their body heat was visible. He checked his map, and saw that they had come in just below Yillie’s tent, between it and the cooking fire in the center of camp.

  “Guild? What Guild do you hunt for?” Theori’s tone was accusatory.

  There was a moment of silence. “Guild Mythra.”

  Another moment of silence and Theori spoke again, “We hunt for Mythra as well. There is no need to invade our camp. We harbor no usurper.”

  Bel heard the snap of a twig and turned his head. Three men walked up the path from the village. Two of them in heavy armor, one in lighter armor. Then, his heat vision picked up a fourth. The healer. He was about fifteen feet behind them. Bel checked his map again, and they too were marked along with the Six dots to the north, where Theori was speaking. That made ten, meaning three were still unaccounted for, four if he were counting Seven, which he was.

  He flipped over to the Inventory app quickly and made sure everything was in place. The dirk was still on his Dexterity stat, and the Tier Two Fire spell was attached to his Strength stat. Then, in the Items tab, he had the Leg Snapper and two vials of that nasty poison. The leather armor had also been placed on his Composure stat, which made Bel feel markedly safer. Everything was all where it needed to be.

  Back in the camp, the conversation was escalating. Theori was shouting now, “Stay your blade, scoundrel! You have no right to enter a Guild camp.”

  “We have the right of the King!” the man retorted.

  Bel wasn’t sure how much of this was Theori playing it up to delay as much as possible, and how much was really him, but Bel was loving it.

  “And the Guild is above the King. The King’s right means nothing in this camp!”

  “Blasphemer!”

  “Scallywag!”

  Bel almost choked on his spit. He didn’t think Theori had it in him.

  Another branch snapped, this time behind Bel and away from the path. He turned slowly. It was an archer and another of the healers. They were working around through the underbrush to get to a small embankment that overlooked the camp. It was the whole reason Bel was here. Julo had mentioned that the archers may try to get to vantage points to pin down the group, and told Bel where to wait for them. He was dead on. The two wouldn’t get close enough to see him, but he could hear them, and thanks to his enhanced senses, they may as well be standing in an open field.

  There was a clash of steel from the camp, and Bel heard Theori and Julo roar. His guts twisted into a knot. It was time. The battle was starting.

  The two tanks, DPS, and healer, started walking further towards the camp. They weren’t going to rush in, they would delay and wait for the force in the camp to wear down the others, then they would come in for the killing blow. Bel had two jobs. One, get rid of the archer and the healer, and two, disrupt the second group as best he could.

  He felt Mephisto moving and looked. The snake was wasting no time in getting to the first targets. The archer had already climbed up the small hill and was getting into position as Meph slithered under the foliage and along side him. He was oblivious to the ten foot snake just feet from him.

  That left the healer to Bel. Luckily, the battle in the camp was in full swing now, and the second group was far enough away that he felt comfortable making a little noise as he moved.

  The gentle patter of rain through the trees and constant clang of metal covered the sound of his tracks as he crept towards the healer, and he held his breath, focusing again on Meph.

  Poised and ready.

  Bel pushed off the ground, knife forward, and tackled the man in cloth from behind. He put all of his weight into the maneuver and they collapsed to the ground together with a light thud in the thick underbrush. Bel fumbled with the dirk for a moment, but found his grip, and drove the dagger into the man’s neck before he could make a sound. Liquid heat coated his hand, and he watched as the warmth slowly faded from the corpse below him. Above, Meph had the archer in a chokehold while the man writhed against him, but it was futile. There was a soft pop of his neck breaking, and the snake uncoiled slowly, letting the limp form of the man roll to the side.

  Two down.

  Bel pushed up off of the man beneath him and wiped the blade on the back of the man’s cloth robe, then his hands. The ash from his arms and the blood of the man smeared into thick lines of gray-red.

  Bel’s heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt like his blood would jump right out of his veins. He looked towards the other group, but they had noticed nothing. He let out a sigh and tried to slow his breathing. Meph slithered down from the hill to him and waited at his side.

  “Good work.”

  Meph flitted his tongue.

  He only gave himself a handful of seconds before he set his sights on the other group. Distraction was the next mission, and he needed to accomplish it before the group left the forest. He double checked the map. Just the men walking away and still no sign of Seven. Yet.

  He set the Leg Snapper at his feet and armed it. Theori had showed him how. For as dangerous as the thing was, it was disturbingly easy to set. He stood up and looked at the group as they moved. Healer was the primary target, and also the closest, so that was who he was going for.

  He moved up, keeping low, but not totally crouched so he could still outpace the men. Quietly as he could, he crept through the underbrush, but he knew that now there was no way he could get the jump on them. He only hoped he’d get close enough to nail the healer before the other could react.

  Meph silently darted into the underbrush along the pathway, and Bel felt himself envy the snake. Closer and closer, until he was less than ten feet behind the healer. He was only going to get one shot at this. The second the healer went down, the others would react.

  No hesitation. No noise. One clean cut.

  He lunged. Then A branch cracked beneath his feet. The healer and swordman immediately turned. Before Bel had a chance to act, the fighter called to the heavies in the front.

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  Meph was out of the brush in a flash. The lithe snake form assaulted the man like a middleweight boxer. Blow after blow to his exposed face and neck. Chunks of flesh ripped off in the snake’s fangs as it hammered its jaws into the fighter over and over. A moment later, and the man had no face at all, just a mass of torn flesh, exposed muscles, and bloody bones.

  Bel took his shot and lept at the healer. He was too far to aim for the neck, so he went for the legs instead. The man raised his staff and swatted down at Bel, but it wasn’t enough to break his momentum. It glanced against the leather armor on his back as Bel drove the knife into the man’s soft thigh muscle. The healer screamed and dropped to the ground. Bel yanked the knife out, flinging blood across dead wood and fallen leaves, before returning it to the man’s now in-range neck. Another flow of warm red fluid was on his hands. He pulled the knife free again just in time to see the two tanks barreling down on him.

  He jumped up and turned away, dashing back towards the trap. He was faster than the heavies, but not by much. Ahead, partially hidden in the underbrush, he saw the leg snapper. He turned towards it, and then just a little to the right. A half second after he passed it, he heard the trap spring shut like a vice, and the sound of crushing metal. He turned to see one of the heavies go down hard into the brush. The other seemed unphased, but he was so focused on Bel that he didn’t notice the snake in the tree above him.

  Meph dropped onto the man’s shoulders and squeezed tight around his helmet. It was the sound of an aluminum can crumpling. The visor of the helm oozed pink-gray from the eye slit, and the heavy dropped, twitching, to the ground.

  Bel rushed to the other, still very alive, but locked in the trap and face down. He tried to rip the tank’s helm off, but it was tied to his chest plate with leather straps. Bel drove his knife into the gap his fingers created in the neck armor and stabbed the man until he saw the blade come back coated in blood and felt the body go limp.

  Six down.

  “FUCK!”

  Bel yelled. The adrenaline was more than he could take. The world was getting hazy, and his chest felt like a cannon. He fell to a knee and reached down to the ground. Meph slithered to him and up his arm, and almost immediately, Bel felt more at ease. He wasn’t calm by any means, but his breath returned and his vision stabilized. There was no time to waste.

  He ran back to the downed swordsman and grabbed the short sword from his clenched fist. It was heavier than he expected, but balanced in much the same way as the dagger. He swapped hands with the two, carrying the sword in his right, and dagger in his left. He wasn’t sure how much good the sword would do him, but it was always good to have options.

  He sprinted from the forest and towards the camp. As he passed Gracious’ tent, he quickly took the scene.

  Theori was standing with one foot on top of one of the enemy tanks who’d already fallen and swinging his axe like a wild beast at another. Each blow that connected was another chunk out of the opposing tank’s armor. Bel wasn’t sure if Theori was swinging it like an axe or a hammer, but the effect couldn’t be denied.

  Julo stood beside him, but at a safe distance from the swings. He was more focused on harassing the two swordsmen that were backing the tank up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fairing as well as Theori and all his armor. Blood seeped from a large gash on his left arm, as well as another on his leg. Each swing of his hammer sent the blood flying across the beach.

  Then Bel saw Yillie. He was pinned down behind the tent and unable to get a clear line of sight on either of the other two men. Bel saw the arrows at his feet, and one more sticking out of his side. He watched as Yillie yanked the arrow free and then immediately healed the wound as blood flowed. The pain on his face was telling, but the man didn’t flinch. He popped his head back out and healed Julo until another arrow sailed at him.

  Bel looked at where it had come from and saw an archer up on the bluffs where he’d first ran into the camp from the night before. That was the last of the men, aside from Seven, to be accounted for. Meph was off his shoulder and across the beach in a shot.

  The snake moved like oil over water and darted towards the hillside where the archer was. Again, Bel had to take a second to be amazed at the snake.

  Just a second, though. He had work of his own to do. He looked at the line against Theori and Julo. Two tanks, two swordsmen, and their healer. He doubled checked his map and made sure there weren’t any surprises. All good. He needed to do something about the healer, though, and quick. Carefully, he pulled a small cloth square from his pocket and unwrapped it, removing one of the poison ampules. He hoped his arm was good enough and chucked it towards the healer.

  The glass vial was so small that the group didn’t see it coming. It burst against the arm of the healer. At first, there was no reaction, but then Bel saw the mage’s hands begin to shake. He brought one of them to his face and started rubbing frantically. Finally, the screams came. The light rain that still fell was increasing the intensity of the poison as it coated the man. Bel watched as he tried to rub the poison off his skin again and again, but it was in vain. The healer fell to the ground shreiking in agony, and one fighter turned to see what had happened. Julo didn’t miss a beat and immediately swung his hammer into the man’s lightly padded head, dropping him to his knees. The fighter wasn’t out of it, but it was going to be a minute before he was back up.

  Bel took his chance and ran around to the east of Nim and Porvo’s tent in an attempt to get behind the other group. He looked up to the bluff where the archer was, or rather, had been. Meph was already on his way back down to the beach. Yillie was back in action, and the battle was sliding into their favor.

  Bel looked back to the Healer, but the man was already back on his feet and casting towards the front line again.

  He wasn’t sure how the man had gotten over the poison so fast, but it mattered little now. He was back to being priority one. Bel lunged from behind the tent and sprinted towards the healer. He drug the sword upwards through the sand and slashed, bringing a cloud of coarse dirt with him.

  The healer dodged back, but Bel pushed in, taking another wild swipe. Swinging a sword was a lot different from he’d envisioned. It moved without him. The momentum of each swing carried the blade, and compared to the dagger, or his time with a chef’s knife, it was borderline unruly. But it was fun.

  Another dodge from the healer, and Bel pressed the attack once again. This time, though, the blade connected, slicing diagonally downwards across the man’s torso, cutting through his thin cloth. He held up his staff to block, and with the other hand, attempted to heal the fresh wound, but it wasn’t enough. Meph leaped in from behind and circled around the man’s neck. Bel lunged and forced the sword into the healer’s abdomen and through. He pulled it out, and the man dropped to the ground.

  Bel turned back to the group. The fighter that Julo had knocked down was getting back up, and Julo still had his hands full with the other. Theori was solo-ing the remaining two tanks, still swinging his axe like a mallet while Yillie constantly healed from the back line.

  Bel called out to the fighter, “Hey, fuckwad!”

  The swordsman looked up at him and returned to his feet. He saw the healer dead beside Bel and made a dash.

  Bel dropped the sword from his right hand and held his palm outward.

  “Fire! Go!”

  The first blast slammed into the fighter’s chest, sending him staggering back.

  “Go!”

  The second hit before he even had time to scream.

  “GO!”

  The third came with an earth-shaking boom, a shockwave of fire and force that lifted the swordsman off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground, burning. Bel could still feel the heat in his fingertips. Thick smoke carried cinders into the air as rain gently fell down on the blackened corpse.

  A thunderous crack broke the sounds of combat as Bel’s world turned white. His ears rang out in agony, and he felt his heart stop in his chest. He fell and rolled slowly. Seven was walking towards him.

  Another burst of lightning hammered onto his chest, leaving his leather armor singed and smoking. Black spots appeared in his vision. He glimpsed Meph darting across the sands, and then he saw Seven raise his hand towards the snake. Lightning arched from his fingers, but Bel couldn’t move. From his side, thundering footsteps rushed past him, and just before the lightning struck the snake, Theori put himself between the bolt and the serpent.

  Bel felt a warmth come over himself, and all the pain faded. He sat up and then got to his knees before turning just in time to see Julo give the final blow to the remaining fighter while Yillie cast a healing spell towards himself.

  Julo’s hammer crashed into the man’s head like a freight train and sent a splintered skull across the sand. The corpse collapsed on the body of the tank that had fallen just before him.

  Still slightly dazed, Bel stood up and turned back to Theori and Seven.

  “Do it again, boy! My axe is thirsty today!”

  Seven shot another bolt at the iron clad colossus. It singed his armor, but Theori didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

  “Is that all you’ve got, mage? You aren’t even making my cock tingle.”

  Seven shot another bolt, but Theori took it the same as the previous. He saw Yillie and Julo step up beside him, and couldn’t help but notice Yillie casting healing spells on the big man as he took the strikes.

  Bel held up his hand and looked down his arm towards Seven. He let another fireball billow from himself, this time without the words.

  The flames shot towards the mage, but he was ready, and stepped to the side just as the fires reached him, only singing his dark cloak.

  “That’s my spell, usurper!” He sounded like an angry child.

  “Finders keepers!” Bel called back. “I’ve got your book, too.” Bel held up the red leather notebook and Seven’s eyes went wide.

  “That’s MINE! Give it BACK!” Another bolt of lightning sailed towards Bel, but Theori stepped in and intervened once again. It soaked into the steel that encased the man and faded away in the rain. Bel had only taken the two bolts and it’d nearly made him black out. Theori was taking one after the other and he was

  The big man was done messing around. He thundered ahead, axe raised at the young mage. In his heavy armor, he wasn’t fast enough, though, and before he was anywhere near him, Seven turned and ran like a frightened rabbit into the southern forest, his cloak whipping behind him.

  “COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE COWARD!” Theori roared after him, but made no move to chase.

  Julo spat in the sand. “Fucker’s lucky day. He won’t get another.”

  Bel exhaled sharply and finally let the tension leave his shoulders.

  The fight was over.

  Theori turned around. He looked back at the group and then directly at Bel, covered in blood and still holding his arm out after casting the fireball. He dropped his axe, bent over, and started laughing so hard his armor creaked.

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