A firebolt screamed past Alistair’s cheek, searing the air and slamming into a nearby tree with a wet thunk. Bark exploded. Flames spread. He ducked behind a half-buried root and winced as the next one scorched the ground two inches from his boot.

  “Alright, alright, I get it,” he muttered, darting sideways. “You’re the enthusiastic type.”

  The fire mage, tall, severe, and cloaked in ember-lit robes, wasn’t letting up. Every flick of her hand birthed another arc of flame. Her eyes glowed orange in the dusk, and her fingers never stopped moving.

  [Incoming Spell: Firebolt]

  Alistair rolled to the side and came up breathing hard. His stamina was dipping. Fast.

  Then a glint of movement drew his attention. The rogue was still alive, the tenacious bastard, and chugged a vial and tossed it aside.

  [Enemy Used: Minor Health Potion]

  HP Restored: +40

  He stood, face pale but eyes burning, and rejoined the fray.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  A third figure stepped from the trees. Medium build. Dark leathers. A curved blade at his hip. No aura of magic, no flashing spells, just cold efficiency and the kind of stillness that screamed experience.

  [Unknown Champion Identified: ?? Level – ?? Class]

  Status: ???

  Alistair cursed under his breath. His back was to the battle between Brimma and the rest of the champions. The fire mage ahead. The rogue flanking left. The new guy closing in from the right.

  And then came the rumble.

  The ground shook.

  Each footstep felt like an earthquake. The branches overhead trembled.

  An Ogre emerged from a tent like a slow-moving avalanche. His crystal-plated body reflected the dying sunlight in jagged, multicolored slashes. His glaive hummed with stored energy, and every motion felt like it could crack the world.

  [Enemy Champion Detected: Verthak the Glassbound – Level 24 – Fracture Warden]

  Race: Shardborn (Crystal-Touched Ogre)

  HP: 295

  Abilities: Shatter Step | Resonant Guard | Crystal Mantle | Fracture Field

  Weapon: Obsidian-Amberglass Glaive

  “...Oh, come on,” Alistair whispered.

  He was boxed in. Outnumbered. Tired. The air smelled like burning hair and molten dirt. This was shaping up to be the worst night of his undead life.

  His eyes darted around. There was no cover left. No route out. No clever escape.

  He gritted his teeth.

  “Well. Guess I’m not charming my way out of this one.”

  His hand hovered over his chest. Mana surged at his fingertips.

  [Skill Available: Lightform – Legendary]

  Activation: 1 use per day

  Effect Duration: 20 seconds

  Aftereffect: Severe Light Vulnerability

  It was risky. One use per day. And the crash afterward was no joke.

  But if ever there was a moment to burn the world…

  He closed his eyes. Smirked. And whispered the trigger.

  “Let’s cheat death.”

  [Lightform – Activated]

  The world ignited.

  [Skill Activated: Lightform – Legendary]

  Duration: 20 seconds

  Remaining Mana: 62/122

  Effect: +30% Movement Speed | +25% Magic Power (Light/Dark)

  Passive Burn: 6% HP/sec (Area)

  He burst into radiant flames.

  Literally.

  A halo of molten-white fire consumed him, and light surged from every pore like he’d swallowed the sun and was trying desperately not to burp it out. His cloak flared. The shadows fled. And every enemy near him screamed.

  [Passive Damage Applied: Lightform]

  Rogue: -31 HP

  Fire Mage: -39 HP

  Armored Champion: -27 HP

  Verthak: -22 HP

  Status: [Burning Aura] – Active

  Duration: 20 seconds

  “Oh gods, it tingles,” Alistair muttered, voice rippling like thunder.

  The rogue screamed, flinging himself backward. Too slow. Too late.

  Alistair moved like vengeance.

  One blink, and he was in front of him.

  He stabbed the redcrystal sword through his stomach and used the light dagger to carve upward.

  [Critical Hit!]

  Damage Dealt: 78 + Light Burn

  [Rogue – Level 15 – HP: 0/132]

  [Enemy Champion Eliminated]

  XP Gained: +1,408

  The rogue dropped like ash in the wind.

  The armored warrior charged next, swinging a hooked axe. Alistair ducked low and rammed his shoulder into the champion’s gut, sending him stumbling back into the Lightform aura.

  [Passive Damage Applied: -32 HP]

  [Status: Burning Aura – Continued]

  “Thanks for staying close,” Alistair said sweetly, then stabbed both blades into the man’s chest.

  He screamed.

  [Damage Dealt: 49 (Redcrystal) + 33 (Dagger of Illumination)]

  [Status Effect: [Light Burn] – +10% damage taken]

  [HP: 0/144]

  [Enemy Champion Eliminated]

  XP Gained: +4,320

  “Two down,” Alistair hissed. “Who’s next for the sunburn special?”

  The fire mage screamed a spell, too slow. A flaming spear shot forward...

  [HP: 112 → 93]

  [Status: Scorched]

  Alistair didn’t care.

  He closed the gap in a blink, dashed through the flames, and slammed the dagger into the mage’s thigh. Then he headbutted her.

  Hard.

  “Not today, Tinderwitch.”

  The redcrystal blade came next.

  [Damage Dealt: 66 (Redcrystal) + Bonus Bleed]

  [Mage – Level 16 – HP: 0/128]

  [Enemy Champion Eliminated]

  XP Gained: +1,502

  The mage collapsed in a heap of robes and smoke.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  And then the light dimmed slightly.

  Duration Remaining: 9 seconds

  Mana: 42/122

  HP: 93/170

  Status: Adrenaline High – Slight stat boost

  That’s when the ogre charged.

  Shards of amberglass crackled across his body. His glaive pulsed with unstable energy.

  Verthak didn’t scream. Didn’t roar. He simply swung with enough force to split a fortress.

  Alistair ducked. The blade missed by inches, carving a trench in the ground.

  He slashed Verthak’s side.

  [Damage Dealt: 17]

  [Status: No Bleed. Crystal Armor Absorbed Impact.]

  “Oof. You’re a tough one.” Alistair grinned. “Bet you’re fun at parties.”

  Verthak backhanded him with a glowing palm.

  [HP: 93 → 61]

  [Status: Fracture Wave – Minor Disorientation]

  Alistair stumbled, light flickering around him.

  3 seconds left.

  One last move.

  He leapt, twisting through the air, and plunged the dagger into the ogre’s chest while channeling every last second of his Lightform burn.

  [Passive Damage Applied: -44]

  [Lightform Final Burst – AOE Surge]

  Verthak HP: 295 → 139

  The ogre grunted, finally staggered.

  Then snap.

  [Lightform Ended]

  [Aftereffect: Light Vulnerability – Duration: 2 minutes]

  [You cannot regenerate HP for 60 seconds.]

  [Visibility: You are glowing faintly for 30 seconds.]

  Alistair collapsed to one knee, panting.

  “…Well. That was... bright.”

  Verthak loomed above him, smoking and furious but cracked.

  His crystal skin shimmered like it might break.

  Alistair’s hands trembled. His limbs felt like stone. But he still grinned.

  “I’m not dead yet,” he whispered, lifting his blades.

  ***

  Brimma skittered backward, her massive spider form soaked in ichor, legs trembling under her weight. The half-orc berserker was relentless, cleavers flashing like a butcher at market, while the human juggernaut moved with terrifying precision, and the blight mage drowned her in curses and corrosive clouds.

  She couldn’t cast. Couldn’t drink potions. Couldn’t even scream in this form.

  Only bleed.

  [Status: Weakened]

  [Status: Armor Shred]

  [Status: Poisoned]

  [HP: 52 / 230]

  Her legs buckled. This was it.

  No.

  Not yet.

  With a surge of will, she dropped the transformation. Her swollen body twisted, cracked, and condensed.

  A sickening snap echoed.

  The spider vanished. In her place? A rat. Small. Shaking. Furious.

  She darted into the underbrush.

  “There!” the blight mage screeched. “She’s here somewhere, I can feel it!”

  Brimma didn’t look back.

  She ran.

  She reappeared behind a moss-slick boulder, breathing hard, legs trembling. Her spider form had collapsed under the relentless assault, her furry bulk had bled green ichor onto the forest floor, soaking into scorched roots. Thank the gods for her rat form. She may hate that form, but she couldn’t deny it had proved its usefulness again and again.

  Now back in gnome form, she clutched her staff, face pale, eyes hard. A low hiss left her cracked lips. “Damn children and their battle orgies...”

  [Status Update]

  Conditions Applied:

  – [Weakened]

  – [Poisoned]

  – [Armor Shred]

  [Spider Form – Cooldown: 2h 47m Remaining]

  She uncorked two potions with one shaky hand and chugged them like they were fine wine.

  [Health Potion – Consumed]

  [HP Restored: +68]

  [Mana Potion – Consumed]

  [+40 Mana Recovered]

  Behind her, the shrill screech of the Blight Mage echoed.

  “Find her you idiots!”

  The human juggernaut hefted his greatshield. The half-orc berserker let out a howl.

  Brimma set her back to the stone and hissed a spell.

  [Spell Cast: Veil of Dread]

  A black mist poured from her staff, cloaking the boulder in creeping fear. Shadows writhed, thickening like wet smoke. Even the air seemed to turn colder.

  Brimma felt the bond pulse through her, he couldn’t see Alistair, but she was close. Hurt, desperate, but still fighting.

  ***

  Meanwhile...

  Kael ducked under a branch, then sprang up a rock ledge, the rogue close behind.

  His breath came in ragged bursts. His bow was nearly useless at this range, and the bastard was fast. Too fast.

  [HP: 19 / 121]

  [Stamina: 32 / 145]

  The rogue lunged again, daggers flashing. Kael twisted and activated his skill.

  [Skill Activated: Rootlash Leap]

  Thorns exploded behind him as he launched backward catching the rogue mid-step.

  [Enemy Slowed – 3s]

  [Minor Bleed – Applied]

  “Can’t believe... I’m gonna die... with arrows still in my belt,” he muttered. “I swear, if I croak here, I’m haunting you, Alistair.”

  A soft whistle pierced the air. Then...

  ***

  [Skill Activated: Ethereal Phase]

  A shimmer. A flicker.

  Smoke and shadow warped around Alistair. He surged forward in wisps, appearing behind the rogue with blades drawn.

  “Boo,” he said.

  The rogue spun but too late. Alistair drove his dagger into the man’s side. The rogue yelped and twisted away.

  [Attack: Redcrystal Sword]

  [Damage Dealt - 27]

  [Status Applied - Bleed (Moderate)]

  He didn’t stay to fight. Instead, he bolted, wounded pride dripping faster than the blood from his gut.

  The rogue growled and vanished into the underbrush. Retreating.

  [Enemy: Escaped Combat]

  “Well,” he said, smirking. “Miss me?”

  Kael collapsed to his knees, wheezing. “Took you long enough.”

  “I had to look dramatic,” Alistair said, kneeling. “Timing is everything.”

  Kael smirked. “You glow. Did you know that? You literally glowed earlier.”

  “Oh, so you noticed.”

  Alistair tossed him something. A quiver, half-full, rough but serviceable.

  “Found it on the way here. Thought you could use it.”

  Kael’s eyes widened. “You beautiful, unholy bastard. Thank the forest gods. I was down to hopes and sharp sticks.””

  Behind them, the war drum beat of heavy footsteps thundered, Verthak, the ogre, was still coming.

  Alistair turned, sword raised. “We regroup. We finish this.”

  Brimma’s voice crackled through the clearing. “Behind the boulder! I’m still alive, you flaming idiots!”

  Alistair blinked. “Brimma?”

  She stumbled into view, leaning heavily on her staff. Her robes were soaked with blood, her blood and her breathing came in sharp, pained gasps. She had a fresh potion bottle in one hand and a half-empty mana vial in the other.

  “You look terrible,” Alistair said.

  “I feel worse.”

  She drained both potions, wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and glared at the battlefield.

  The Blight Mage had begun drawing strange glyphs in the dirt. Green mist curled at her feet. Her followers had regrouped, five enemy champions left. All mean-looking. All very much alive.

  Alistair sighed. “Okay. We’re not dead yet. But if we go in like this, we will be.”

  Brimma snorted. “Your optimism is infectious.”

  “I mean it,” he said. “We go in one by one, we get slaughtered. They’re stronger. We’re tired. But we have something they don’t.”

  “Rage?” Kael asked.

  “Charm,” Alistair replied, deadpan. “But also teamwork.”

  Kael shook his head. “You’re insane.”

  “Not incorrect though.”

  Brimma narrowed her eyes. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We make them come to us,” Alistair said. “Kael, you find high ground. Rain death. Save your good arrows for the big ones. Brimma, I want you buffing and stalling that witch. She so much as sneezes green, you put a rock through her skull.”

  “And you?” Brimma asked.

  Alistair drew his blades.

  “I’ll be their problem.”

  Brimma frowned. “Alistair... you almost died earlier.”

  “I know.”

  “And that ogre is still out there.”

  “I know.”

  Kael gave him a long look. “Do you have a plan, or are you just making this up as you go?”

  “Both,” Alistair said. “But mostly making it up.”

  He turned to Brimma. “What was that trick earlier? When you vanished?”

  She hesitated. “Rat form.”

  “You can turn into a rat?”

  “I’m a druid, you pompous grape.”

  He blinked. “We’re going to have a conversation about that later.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Alistair let out a slow breath as the three of them crouched low behind the boulder, the enemy champions gathering like wolves on the center of the battlefield. A dull green mist still curled along the edge of the battlefield where the Blight Mage worked her hexes, and the ogre’s heavy footsteps thudded somewhere to the west like a war drum.

  For a heartbeat, everything was still.

  They were alive.

  Barely.

  He opened his interface with a flick of thought. Just a glance, just enough to confirm what he’d suspected.

  Notifications crowded his vision like angry birds.

  [Level Up – 16]

  [Level Up – 17]

  But it was the last notification that caught his eye.

  [New Skill Acquired – ???]

  Yup. He had a new skill.

  He muttered, “Great. Couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  Then his gaze snapped upward.

  A ripple tore through the clearing as the ogre began running, shouldering aside boulders like they were pebbles. Behind him, the Blight Mage raised both arms, chanting, her voice no longer human.

  And to their left, armored footsteps approached fast.

  Alistair drew his weapons again.

  “Oh no,” he whispered. “Round two.”

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