Semper Pie

by deathtap

Mission 7, Part 13: Into The Fray

“Here we are,” Arpeggio stated and pointed towards the room in question. “Lecture hall A113.”

He was still acting cold and aloof, but he just wanted to reach over and hug the bundle of nerves that was almost visibly shaking. She was overreacting and all Arpeggio wanted was for the little filly to relax; her state of mind would hamper her ability to perform her magic properly.

“I think you’re the first filly to attempt this test today,” Arpeggio stated, “that would mean I am one of your judges.”

The filly eyes opened to impossible sizes. “I-I’m so sorry! I should have memorized the floorplans of the palace! I should have taken the time to study the layout and made my way here myself! I’m sorry I didn’t think of it!”

“Memorize the floorplans?” Arpeggio asked nearly breaking character. He would have burst out in laughter if it were appropriate, “Miss Sparkle, you couldn’t have known which room you were going to be taking the exam in, this isn’t something that will count against you. Plus, as I stated, I am one of your judges and it’s important to be on time. You’re very early, so this counts in your favor. And anyway, this room was on my way. I would suggest that you focus on your own abilities first, before you ascribe to fantastic expectations. We are not here to measure your ability to memorize spells. That comes after you become a student. We only want to assess the strength of your inherent magical prowess, and that is not something one can study for.”

“W-what?” the little filly peeped.

“How do you expect to memorize for an exam you don’t know, nor can study for?” Arpeggio asked and sighed. “Focus on yourself and try to harness your power, that is all you can do at this point.”

He might as well have told the filly that he was going to send her off to be executed; the expression on her face signified as much. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the parents, who were equally as wide-eyed as their daughter. He raised an eyebrow at that and turned around and started to walk towards the teacher’s lounge.

“My advice to you is to relax, Miss Sparkle. I will see you shortly.”

As he left, he stole a glance at the apprehensive filly. Her parents did their best to help her, but it was clear they were just as worried as she was. He could not help but roll his eyes again as he walked out.

---

Tessa followed Onslaught and Samidra as close as she could. The eyes of the camels and other Elites were on her in particular, but she didn’t dare look away. It was like entering a hive of angry wasps, and that the slightest transgression towards their queen would be grounds for immediate death. She felt bolts trained on her, but she continued on regardless. She didn’t have a choice.

“Father!” Samidra called and flung herself into his embrace.

The old camel smiled and hugged her tightly as he stroked her mane, “It is good to see you, but it is also terrible, for now you are trapped here with us.”

Onslaught knelt before Providence. When she tried to tell him not to do that, he stood up and took a few deep breaths, “Map… here…”

At that, the mare took it and placed it down on the rock in front of her. She took the scribbled mess she had been using and compared the two. In minutes she had puzzled it out.

“There’s a gap here,” she pointed to a section of the cavern. “It’s very small, but it leads down.”

“And so, the prophecy has come to pass,” Pani said quietly, but loud enough for Providence to hear, “come, take us with you. Let us see what it is that has been hidden in the deep desert that was never meant to be seen. Let us see what it is that will change all. Let us see it with our own eyes.”

Providence looked at the camel. “You’re wrong.”

“You don’t sound convinced, and neither should you be. This is the way things were meant to be. Your death, or the change of the world. In any other situation, I would have gladly done the world the favor, but you’re here for a reason, of that I am convinced. You have our loyalty, Providence, my dear, show us a miracle.”

Sandy rushed over. “Ma’am, we’ve excavated a small passage. It opens to a stairwell that leads down. I’ve sent ahead some Elites to ensure it is safe for your passage, but it is likely the way. We missed it because it was very cleverly hidden by some stones, the other camels must have put them there while their leader spoke to you.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Pani said, almost giddy with excitement.

“Father, what is going on?” Samidra asked, not sure what all her kind were so nervous about. It was clear that they were not liking how things were panning out.

“I will explain on the way, but for now we must put as much distance between us at the entrance as possible. My camels will follow your leading Elites. Have your rear guard remain to protect the entrance to the stairwell. It will pointless to hide it, they will have another map,” Pani said and stretched. He looked around the cavern for the last time and resigned himself, once again, to fate, “Let us go.”

---

Static watched as the Cultists were loading ballistas and wallarbrusts onto skimmers and moving them out. He noted that they were pointing towards the top of the downed tower that lay just beyond the peninsula’s tip with the probable intent of circling around it and doubling back. It didn’t matter which way they went as the distance and time were about equal.

The Guard noted how ineffective and slow the Cultists were, but what astounded him was the number of them that there were there. And, in disgust, he also noticed a lot of Guards, particularly Night Guards who seemed to still be actual actively serving, in their ranks. Their armor was unmistakable. There were a few Royal Guards as well, but nowhere near the number of the others. It seemed that the Guards were set up to stay close to the weapons caches and depots. A part of him wished he could name them all, to bring them to justice once all this was over. He would probably not remember a single one, and that was a good thing for him in that moment.

He calmed himself and trotted towards the nearest skimmer.

“Oi, where’ve you been?”

“I needed to…” he slightly squatted.

The speaker made a face, but bought it, “Grab a crate of quarrels. Put them on this. Move!”

Static didn’t hesitate and rushed to the nearest depot. The Night Guard watched him keenly, but did not stop him. Static placed the crate on his back and, using his magic, levitated a second one, strategically noting the contents, and walked towards the skimmer.

“How are our forces on the other side of the tower?” the Night Guard asked.

“Not a clue,” Static replied truthfully.

The Night Guard looked over the tower, at where the battle had been, “the sand is dying down. We will lose our window.”

Instant warnings bells sounded in Static’s head. He at once understood. He knew that this Guard was trying to discern through hints as to who he really was. He almost respected that level of suspicion. Almost. He probably noticed a pony suddenly coming the direction of the tower and didn’t know quite how he got there. Static could have teleported into their camp, but he doubted that they wouldn’t have secured some protection for that. Wards and other magical traps to catch out teleportation spells.

Going by instinct, he did what felt was right and now was engaged in a battle of wits with a Night Guard traitor. The others around him might not have thought anything by this line of questioning, but a good Guard always followed their intuition.

“You think so?” Static asked trying to avoid any leads. Confirming that the sand was indeed diminishing would have put him on the other side of the tower, which would probably lead to more questions.

The Guard did not react. “You think the sandstorm has anything to do with the animals?”

“You mean the wyrms?” Static asked innocently.

“Yes. The wyrms.”

“No clue,” Static replied, being extra careful of what to say and how to say it, “I…should probably get back to—”

“The thing is… I don’t know you. I’ve not seen you before and I am very good with faces. Where were you on the ship?”

“In the food room,” Static said, feigning ignorance. How many Cultists would know it was called a mess hall?

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you have?”

Static felt his bowels stir and was about to reply when he was thankfully cut off.

“Hey!” a voice shouted from behind Static, “Get your flank over here! You, Guard, you want to lug around crates with the rest of them?”

The Guard narrowed his eyes at the speaker and in a slow, cold voice spoke, “You would be wise to watch your tongue.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me? Me? I’d like to see you try,” The speaker, a bright green earth pony spoke and walked right up to the Night Guard, who towered half a head taller than him. He pushed his snout against the Guards, who did not give back a single inch, “You may think you’re in the good with Her Majesty, but when she returns it’ll be me and my followers that will hold prestige in her new and everlasting empire. You understand? Not you and not your bunch of traitorous compatriots. Me. I’ve been fighting Guards like you since before you were suckling on your mother’s teats!”

The Guard narrowed his eyes. “You wish to put that your skills to the test?”

The earth pony growled and drew his weapon. A long, circled weapon that Static had never seen before. He slipped it over his hoof like a glove. “I’ve gutted many Guards in my time. You want to know how many?”

He turned to show his rump where his Cutie Mark showed. An emerald. Around it, in thin narrow lines giving the impression of a green sun, were scars.

“Each line represents a dead Guard. It’s a little uneven on one side. One more would balance it out nicely,” the earth pony taunted, “You feel like volunteering?”

“Evergreen,” a deep rumbling voice interrupted making Static and the Night Guard turn in surprise. A large stallion with overtly effeminate features loomed over them. “What, may I ask, is taking so long? Are we on schedule?”

Static felt the blood drain from his face. Standing in front of him, almost as tall as the Princess herself, was the most wanted and notorious general of all the Cults. Most groups were put under the generic banner of Cultist, but not those who served this stallion. His Children of the Night. Out of all the groups, small and large, the most feared was this one. Ruthless and cruel, their leader gave the fable of the fallen princess and her cruelty a truth. This was the single pony that he had wanted to avoid crossing at all costs, yet there he stood. This was Night Terror, and Static felt his bowels tighten at the sight of him.

“My Lord!” Evergreen threw himself to the ground, as did the Guard and, after a moment’s delay, so did Static. This was not lost on the Cultist leader. “We are almost ready for the assault. I was just thinking of educating this Guard-” the pony pointed at the Night Guard in question with his snout in a malicious sneer, “-as to his place in your glorious army!”

“My army? It is not my army, Evergreen. It is our Queen’s. I am merely her most humble and generous servant.” Night Terror turned and looked at Static. “That said, I am not familiar with you. Are you one of the… volunteers?”

A lesser pony would have jumped at that. Jumped at the straw. A pony like Sonic might have fallen for that trick, but Static knew and understood the subtleties.

“Volunteers, sir?” he asked, truthful in the knowledge that he did not know what the General was referring to.

The General did not give away any sign of surprise or astonishment. He merely looked at Static as if he had said nothing wrong at all. “Very good. I think I might have fallen for it if not for my cautious nature. Unfortunately for you, I am not where I am because I take chances. Seize him.”

At once the Night Guards moved and grabbed Static. Static didn’t react in the way a Guard would. He knew that if his ruse fell through, he’d be dead before could think. Teleporting was out of the question. He allowed himself to be pushed to the ground easily, letting himself be overpowered by the two traitorous Royal Guards.

“Take him away. I will deal with him later.” Night Terror turned and, using his magic, took all the crates and loaded them up almost perfectly on the skimmer without even looking. Static balked at that. Such skill, finesse and power. The length of the horn was not merely for show.

As Static was dragged away, he watched as the Cultists moved in one huge line towards the peninsula, and gulped. If that line made it towards past the tower, there wouldn’t be a Caldera left, much less a peninsula. He needed to stop them.

But how?

---

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Argon replied staring at the ripple on the horizon. “Confound this sand. It’s bad enough that I can’t see where those blasted Elites are hiding up in them cliffs.”

“Send Vigil to check it out,” Spruce replied.

“Vigil!”

A young mare peeked out of the ballista’s aiming seat. “Yeah?”

“Go and check that out!” Argon pointed towards the distant shape.

“What? Why me?”

“Because I said so, twerp! Snap to it!”

The mare grumbled and hefted herself out of the seat, grabbed the nearest spear, took out her scarf and wrapped it around her head several times before she jumped down with a crunch into the sand. She walked hard and quickly into the distance. She paused at the edge of where the ballista was still relatively visible. She noted that the wheels on the left side were already half-buried. She grumbled, as she knew that she would be the one to dig them out when it came time to move. She turned and walked out into the storm.

Her shape was quickly blurred by the sands and even if any of the others had been paying attention they would have had a difficult time making out her silhouette through the chaos.. Unable to see her, the others quickly resumed what they were doing, going about their tasks.

“He—”

“You heard that?” Argon asked as he stopped clearing the sand from the firing pin hole.

Spruce shook his head and stared. “Nah, I didn’t hear anything.”

The two peered harder and noted a shape coming out of the storm before looking at each other. With unsaid words, they both lifted their crossbows and loaded them, just in case. Then she was there, her shape coming closer. Both relaxed and shook their heads.

“What was it?” Spruce asked when the mare was close enough to hear without him having to shout too hard.

No response.

“Aw, come on, Vig,” Argon said trying to pacify the mare, “I’ll make it up to you tonight. Promise.”

At those words, the mare looked up at him.

Only, it wasn’t a mare. And it wasn’t Vigil. In fact, Argon didn’t know what it was, if it was even a pony. A simple movement found his body moving impossibly. He looked around, but the rest of him did not seem to respond. His neck seemed stiff and unresponsive. He looked up and noted a handsome stallion standing over him. He wondered who that was. Until he looked at the neck, without a head.

He would have screamed if he had lungs to push air through his vocal chords.

As the sides of his vision faded to darkness, he could see Spruce jerking around in a strange dance with a spear, Vigil’s spear, pinned through his neck.

Argon found it amusing, and he felt relieved and at peace. The last thought that flittered through his brain was why there was a handsome body collapsing next to him on the ground without a head. It really was a nice body.

---

“Open fire!” the order came as a commander shouted the order with his voice amplified with magic somewhere down the line.

The ballistas launched their projectiles. With the storm and winds as fierce as they were, most of the bolts hit areas that were nowhere near where he had suspected the Elites to be hiding. He growled in frustration. He needed to get his pegasi up there and quickly. It didn’t help that most of the original attack team were now dead and in the digestive juices of the monstrous wyrms.

At the far end of the line Cordon called out with a bored tone, “Reload.”

He hated the Cultists. He hated them almost as much as he hated the Princess and her self-righteous band of blithering murderers she had the audacity to call The Guard. All of them were murderers. Equestria did not need dishonest and deceptive leaders like them on either side. She needed to be ruled by others, like the other pony nations of the west.

But the Cultists paid very well. Very well, and he had to make a living somehow. If these foals decided to believe in an ancient myth used to scare foals into being good, and were willing to pay good bits to help achieve their fanciful and immature dream, then who was he to tell them any better? He had half expected a number of these numbskulls to pack up and run home to their mothers when the fighting got fierce. He wasn’t a pegasi, but he was astounded with the brutality of their opponents. A few did flee into the desert, perhaps understanding that they were out of their league, but many of them were more dedicated and stuck.

It could have made a believer out of him, if only he cared for such things.

The vast majority of their group that joined their primary military might were nowhere near ready to take on the defenders. He had heard of the Watu, even fought one or two when he had a numerical advantage. But these ‘Elites’, they were something new to him. And he had heard through both scuttlebut and official reporting that the Watu Wakali had been disbanded, their ranks either disarmed and disbanded, integrated into the Guard, or in the case of the most sinister of the bunch, tried and put into dungeons. Still, how had these Elites end up all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? And for what?

Again, Cordon watched as the rabble he was overseeing tried to load the ballista. They had no order, even when he had tried to teach them. No discipline. Too much to expect from these idiots. He noticed the magic of the front-most unicorn blinking and he winced as the projectile slammed into the dust.

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing?” he shouted. “You’re lucky that the sand is soft or we’d all be dead!”

“You like giving orders!” the frustrated mare shouted back. “You come here and do it! Oh wait! You can’t! So sit there and shut up!”

A small smiled formed on his lips. “You’re right. I can’t. That’s the problem. If I could, I wouldn’t have a need for a bunch of blithering idiots like you under my command. Let’s try again. This time work together. The concept shouldn’t be foreign to you. One unicorn lifts the rear, the other the front. Keep it vertical. Load it from the base. That way the rest of us can do our jobs without worrying about getting blown up or having to wait for two idiots to do their very simple jobs.”

The mare grunted in annoyance, but she turned and focused her magic on the front as her male counterpart focused on the rear.

“Look, why don’t you two switch?” Cordon suggested. “Let Farty take the front.”

“That’s not my name!” the unicorn shouted in annoyance as he hefted the rear onto the rack and released his magic.

“I know. But Fortuitous is quite irritating to say, so Farty you are.”

“Yeah, Farty!” a dumb pegasus stallion repeated and coughed out something that sounded like a laugh.

With the projectile loaded, Cordon lowered himself to the aiming device and started to pull the lever to aim it slightly higher than they had previously fired. Already the other ballistas had shot their second projectiles and were busy loading their third. He aimed through the looking glass and put the crosshairs on a teetering boulder. A smile cracked on his lips. Firing blind was pointless, he might as well make it fun.

“Ready!” he called.

The dumb pegasus and an earth pony called Briar, began to rotate the cycle-like pedals that pulled the string back. It was slow tedious work, more expensive versions of the ballista had a magical generator to do it, but they were few and far between; magical equipment was expensive, logistically difficult and exhausted the unicorns even before the battle began..

“Aiming!” Cordon shouted when he heard the base slide into the lock and released the catch. The ballista’s strings groaned in anticipated as the hook was released. The only thing that stopped it from flying into the distance was the small red lever his hoof held.

“You know, firing today would be useful,” the mare intoned.

“Hold your stockings, sweetheart,” Cordon grumbled as he leaned back and placed a stronger lens into the aiming array. “One good shot is better than ten useless ones.”

“And what are you aiming for?”

“See that boulder that looks like one big shove will topple it over?”

All of them turned to see.

“That one.”

“Twenty bits says you’ll miss,” the big dumb pegasus offered.

“Double or nothing,” Cordon said automatically.

“Alright.”

“Easy money.” Cordon leaned back and pulled the lever.

The ballista jerked back as the projectile launched itself through the air, rotating and with deadly purpose. It flew high, then arced and just hit the boulder’s base. He heard the pegasus curse, but in the seconds that followed, the boulder shifted downwards, then flipped over itself, the base slamming into a hidden flat area which caused it to tumble forwards and flip over again and again before hidding a slightly lighter slope gradient before sliding the rest of the way down to the sand below billowing up a large wall of sand once again.

“Oh yeah!” Cordon shouted and offered his hoof up.

None of them reciprocated the high-hoof.

“Not bad,” Farty said and nodded. “Looks like you made a pathway up the side.”

“Yeah. I know, right? We could just walk…”

He cut himself off as he heard a shout. He turned and looked through the storm behind him. “You hear that?”

The others looked at him. “Hear what?”

Cordon leaped down and drew his blade. “Flank! Watch our flank! You two, crossbows. Now!”

Farty rushed and pulled a crossbow out and, just before he could load it, a stallion threw himself towards the dumb pegasus. He shouted something, but it was cut off with a clean stab through the eye with a long dagger. Cordon backed off and put the ballista between himself and the attacker. He reached for his own sword, but didn’t find it. He looked down, drew it, then looked back at the enemy.

Gone.

“Circle up! Circle up, now!” Cordon shouted.

Instantly his team stood flank to flank and stared outward using the ballista to protect the one side.

“See anything?” the mare screamed in pure fear.

“No. Stay alert. Don’t–” The words died in his throat as a bolt sang out and hit the ballista behind him. It stuck in and began to glow. “Get away–”

His shout was a split second too late as the quarrel ignited with a dull boom on the nearside causing it to topple forwards and sideways. Seconds later another figure rushed by, slower than the first, but it too disappeared into the sand. It looked like it was carrying something heavy.

“What the hay was that?” Farty asked as he stood next to Cordon visibly shaken.

“Pack up.” Cordon said without any emotion. He looked at the group. “Look, if we’re fighting against ponies like that, count me out. I’m too handsome to die out here.”

“For once I agree,” the mare muttered, “... so what do we do?”

“Let’s head back to camp, steal a skimmer, and high-tail it out of here. Live to fight another day, I say.”

“Are you crazy?” Farty replied. “Night Terror’s back there. He’ll kill us the instant he sees us.”

“I know, but that’s our only option. You wanna stay here and try your luck in getting that ballista operational without any clear line of vision at the ground level, then be my guest.”

The others shifted nervously.

“Then let’s get going. Our ballista is destroyed. There’s nothing we can do. We can say we came back because we had nowhere else to go. If anything, we’ll be sent back to the front where we can… disappear.”

“I like that plan,” the mare replied. “I like it a lot. Let’s do that.”

The others agreed.

Cordon looked at the dead pegasus and felt sorry for him, but such is the way of life. One moment you’re gambling with bits, the next your life. Whether or not you win, that was something up to chance. The only way to ensure you won was to change the odds.

He still took the bag of bits though, it wasn't as if the pegasus would be needing them.

---

Providence stood and looked at where she was. She was astounded. The corridor was perfectly straight, and lit with a light that wasn’t there. It was as if the rocks themselves were giving off some strange glow. She inspected the walls and tiled her head.

“Can you read these inscriptions?” she asked.

“No,” Pani replied and looked again. “I don’t think they are meant to be read. They look like spell cast lines.”

“And I wish I knew more about magic. Ask the Elites. Maybe one of them can enlighten us?” Providence asked, more to herself than anyone else.

Pani nodded, and informed Sandy, who then rushed off to do as he was asked.

The hallway was wide enough for twenty ponies to walk abreast of each other, and high enough that the pegasi could hover comfortably in the air. But the strangest thing was just how straight it was. If it were not for the darkness, you could probably see right to the end, if there was one.

“What is this?” Providence asked as she walked to the middle and tapped the strange stone. “It looks like crystal.”

“I think it is crystal,” Pani said and took his staff and placed it on top of the anomaly. At once the crystal embedded in his staff exploded into little pieces with a loud bang that made all of them jump in surprise. The Elites were already at the ready, drawing the crossbows and shields, the unicorns charging their magic. “By the Fathers. That is powerful magic.”

Providence had thrown herself to the ground out of reflex and stood up, rubbing her eyes to get her eyes to adjust to the sudden light-blindness. “What now?”

“I think that is evident; we continue down the hall.” Pani pointed towards the darkness. “On and on we go, deeper into the desert and further from our wells. Fighting thirst and darkness and the terror they bring. On and on we go.”

“What?” one of the Elites asked.

“An old story of my tribe that was told to me by my father’s father when I was but a calf,” Pani shrugged, “I am not sure why I thought of it just now.”

The Elite simply nodded.

Pani glanced to the ground quickly, “Providence, we must move on and quickly. If none of your Elites recognize the symbols we shall have to proceed.”

“Okay.”

“Ma’am,” Sandy spoke up as a unicorn tailed him. “This is Breaker. He has some familiarity with these symbols.”

Breaker bowed awkwardly. “Thank you for speaking with me. It is an honor.”

Providence smiled and nodded. That was something they all did when they spoke to her for the first time… or first few times.

“My memory is… fuzzy, but I do know what these are. They are leylines, or symbols, used for spellcasting particularly stronger spells. They help manipulate the various elemental magics.”

“Leylines?”

“Yes, ma’am. I cannot describe it, but I will attempt to do so. Magic is like a series of strings or patterns. To manipulate it, you need to understand how to use the patterns to form spells. Depending on your strength, the pattern used, its manipulation, and other things, you can cast a certain type of spell. These are part of a very complex spell. There is no way of knowing what it does unless you analyze the entire pattern, and seeing its size just for this portion alone,” he gestured at a wall, “it would take decades, maybe even a century, just for this part. The pattern goes all around us, including the ceiling and floor. I have confirmed it. I do know one thing, however.”

“And that is?”

“This spell has all the various elements of magic combined together.”

“What did you say?” Providence asked, turning on Beaker.

“The spell has all the various elements of magic combined together,” the Elite repeated.

Taking out the tome, she flipped the pages and turned to see the Elements of Harmony. As she did she muttered excitedly under her breath, “A powerful spell. Elements of magic. Could it really be the Elements of Harmony?”

Pani tilted his head. “You discovered something?”

Providence sighed and shook her head, “No. Only more questions.”

“Ma’am, there is one other thing.”

“Yes, Sandy?”

“Permission to set up a defensive point here. The bottleneck at the entrance is a very strong defensive position. I would like to put a number of Elites here to stop the Cultists from entering. It will buy us some time at least.”

“I don’t think that’s–”

“Forgive me, ma’am, but I don’t think you have an option. Even if we delay them for a few minutes, it will be useful to you. There are seven Elites who are on the brink. Their presence would be a hazard for you and the others.”

At those words, Providence remembered the past Elites that had lost their minds. How they struggled with the pain and the madness slowly descending on them. They had to be put down by others, and each time she had witnessed it, a number of other Elites would get hurt in the process. She had resigned herself to letting them do what they thought was best, especially when they knew it was their time.

“Okay. Let me talk to them. I want to thank them…”

“Of course, ma’am. Here they are.”

Providence choked by her emotion and watched as seven Elites approached and bowed. “No, no. Please, don’t bow to me.”

The seven looked at one another and stood up.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“Our names are in your book, miss,” the voice of a young mare replied through her mask. “It has been a pleasure fighting alongside you. Thank you for leading us. Thank you for showing us that we are worth something. I only hope that you finally find what it is you’re looking for.”

The others nodded in agreement. Providence couldn’t help herself and she rushed and hugged them as a group. The seven were shocked, but awkwardly returned the gesture.

“F-farewell,” Providence gulped, trying not to cry.

The mare patted her back. “We’ve come to terms with the inevitable. Thank you for letting us come with you. Perhaps if you meet your daughter one day, you will tell her of us?”

“I will,” Providence nodded and closed her eyes. She steeled herself. More of them were going to die, but that didn’t make the prospect of it all any easier.

“We must go, ma’am,” Sandy said and pulled her along. “The Cultists might be coming for us any moment. We haven’t time to waste.”

She allowed herself to be led away and, as the group trotted forwards, carefully avoiding stepping on the strange middle line of crystal. She stole a glance back at the seven that remained behind and tried to etch them into her mind. She knew it was futile, but she tried anyway.

They soon melted back into the blackness of the abyss.

Comments

[lazyreader19]

Poor guys.

[Emperor]

Ah, Night Terror. A super-powerful unicorn whose reputation is so great Static has heard of him and fears him. Of course that means Semper Pie is going to demolish him. Killing Night Terror might be what gets him that medal mentioned way back then.

It doesn't quite feel like we're reaching a denouement for this arc yet.

[An Alternate Universe]

8080006 They're not that bad, also, the non-US nations tend to have better MREs (investment in a soldier is more of the defence budget/soldier, therefore retention is important). I think though, as this chapter proves; intelligence is more vital than brute strength. Then, for their jobs you need a lot of intelligent soldiers, both those in the field and those who are supporting them (a ratio of 1:14 at best)