Ad Astra - The Alagore War Collection 1

"This is Major General Taylor Webster to all commands. Unity forces have been repelled off the Great Kasin Lake beach. Stragglers have fled to the Vagahm border, south of Salva. The first QRF elements from 1st Astralis Division have arrived and have begun reinforcing our rear. The Temple of Indolass is secured. I repeat, Indolass is secured. All combat operations should be focused on the exterior.

Colonel Saxon, detach one of your Infantry battalions from your Brigade and chase the Utopian bastards to the border. Under no circumstances should you enter or fire into Vagahm territory. Then reinforce Colonel Burke's 1st Brigade from the south. Remove any hostile alien forces that linger.

I want the rest of the 3rd Armor Brigade to march north, link with the 2nd, and counterattack the Franolgno Brigaton, 31st Order, and push them back. Take their fortifications and finish it." - 4th Infantry Division Headquarters, Temple of Indolass

April 20th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Salva Underground, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Fraeya asked.

"You're asking me that now?" Ar'lya responded.

The Wood Elf turned toward the terrified Faran girl, hoping for reassurance, but only saw the rodent hiding inside the cart. That was when she realized this was, indeed, a horrible idea. Watching the Vagahm head engineer operate the controls while laughing hysterically, she finally understood why no one trusted dwarves. The wild speeds, the constant near-collapses—it all reinforced the stereotype.

The mining cart took a sharp corner and sped past two others already tipped over, dirt spilling across the tracks. Because of the long distance, Fraeya and Ar'lya had converted the carts into makeshift trams to save time. Time they didn't have.

"How much longer?" Fraeya asked.

"Almost there," Gratom said, still laughing.

The motorized mining cart shot into a massive cavern, the midpoint en route to the exit where the Minutemen once flanked enemy supply lines. A wide, fast-moving river cut through the chamber's center, spanned by a large ramp bridge. Fraeya remembered this place—it had once been the heart of the goblins' attempted infestation of the tunnels.

She spotted where the breach used to be. Her sealing spell still held. There had been another cavern network the Minutemen could have used to flank the blockade, but Colonel Hackett had deemed it too infested with green monsters for a sweep operation to be worth the risk.

"As requested," Gratom announced. "We're here."

Once they stopped, Ar'lya leapt out and pushed the Wood Elf aside before dropping to all fours and vomiting. She sat back, holding her head. "Never again…"

Fraeya stepped out and grabbed the rim of the cart for balance as her legs nearly gave out. Her feet were numb. "I agree with you."

A soldier approached—clearly a 1st Astralis Infantry officer. His nametag read; Second Lieutenant Norris.

"I was informed you two were coming," Norris said. "I didn't know it was this serious."

"Hackett always is," Fraeya replied. "I need to open the breach to the other cavern."

"You're crazy," Norris said. "If we do that, the Horde will flood the tunnels again. Our platoon will be cut off."

"I know," Fraeya said. "I'll try to close it again before we leave. But we have to try."

"I still don't know what's going on," Norris muttered.

"Fraeya," Ar'lya snapped. "We don't have time. Stop being polite—give him the Colonel's note."

Remembering Hackett's resistance prediction, Fraeya pulled the note from her bag and handed it over. The Altaerrie officer skimmed it, sighed in frustration, then nodded and accepted the order. The Astralis soldiers escorted the women across the bridge to the sealed breach.

Fraeya placed her hands against the wall and began the retraction process.

"You two won't outrun those goblins," Norris warned. "They don't move like people."

"Thank you for your confidence," Ar'lya muttered.

"I'm not joking," he said thoughtfully, then waved his troops over. A Bigdog UGV lumbered up. The soldiers detached a large flashlight from its back. "Maybe this'll help you stay ahead. Give the Bigdog simple commands in Latin—nothing complex."

Fraeya's hands glowed as she completed the retraction. The sealed breach cracked open. Before warning her friend, a rancid wave of death-stench slammed into her, making her recoil and cover her nose.

"You okay?" Ar'lya asked.

"Yes," Fraeya said. "The smell is unbearable. We'll need our masks—or we'll pass out from the odor alone."

They donned their oxygen masks, meant to protect them from the Horde's poisonous magic, and thanked the lieutenant before staring into the abyss beyond the breach—pitch black. The only visible remnants were decomposing limbs from the prior battle when Fraeya had sealed the passage.

"Let's go," Fraeya said.

The Bigdog moved into the darkness, its small headlights offering weak, flickering illumination. Seeing no immediate danger, the two women followed, arms trembling. Their imaginations spiraled with visions of what would happen if they were caught.

The ground was slick from limestone. Creep coated the walls, and strange fungal growths hung from the ceiling. Corpses and debris littered the path, but there were no signs of life yet.

Fraeya closed the breach behind them to keep the goblins from reaching the Americans. Meanwhile, Ar'lya lit a flare.

"Come on, gobbly, gobbly, gobbly," Ar'lya taunted. "Fresh meat for you…"

"Please don't say that," Fraeya said. "I'm trying to keep it together."

"This is how I keep my sanity," Ar'lya replied. "The silence is driving me mad. My fur's never been this static. Just focus on the gap."

"I am!" Fraeya shot back.

"Quiet," Ar'lya hissed.

Fraeya halted. "I just told you to be quiet, and now you're—"

"Fraeya!"

A harsh, chittering screech echoed through the cavern. Fraeya turned—eyes gleamed in the darkness. One stepped forward. A goblin with sickly green skin, stringy black hair, rotting teeth, and dry blood smeared around its mouth.

Fraeya felt its soulless gaze pierce her, full of hunger and violent urges. More shapes emerged—dozens, then more—silent and stalking.

Panic surged. The two women jumped onto the Bigdog. The silence shattered.

"Forward!" Fraeya screamed.

The Bigdog spun around and ran uphill. She looked back—hundreds of goblins surged after them. Some crawled along the ceilings; others sprinted on foot. Luperca wolves followed, goblins riding on their backs.

"Faster!" Fraeya cried, tears in her eyes. "Faster!"

Spears and explosive arrows rained around them. The Bigdog dodged and weaved. Ar'lya held the flare high, clinging to Fraeya. The elf hurled ice magic at incoming projectiles, erecting barriers and hazards to slow their pursuers.

A wolf closed in. Fraeya blasted it with water, knocking it down—but more replaced it.

"I see the exit!" Ar'lya shouted. "We're almost there!"

Fraeya's hope flared. They burst from the cavern just as dawn's light kissed the mountaintops. It was still night, but the horizon glowed.

The Bigdog skidded to a halt at the cave mouth, and the woman gasped for air. They could hear the roar of battle from the nearby valley—Salva was close. Hackett's wild plan had worked.

"I think we go that way," Fraeya said.

"I think we have other concerns," Ar'lya replied.

A dozen J'avais from the Aristocracy stood nearby, confused, staring at them. The enemy soldiers readied their weapons. The woman screamed—then heard a loud cracking from behind.

They turned slowly. The Horde was there—rushing toward them.

"Go!" Ar'lya yelled.

"The J'?" Fraeya asked.

"Who cares!"

The Bigdog charged. The Aristocracy soldiers opened fire—then froze in terror as they saw what followed: goblins, luperca, elves, humans—every twisted soul consumed by the Horde.

Fraeya and Ar'lya raced past the J'avians. Behind them came screams—horrific, helpless—as the soldiers were slaughtered without mercy.

"We need to stop," Ar'lya said. "They might not follow us."

The Bigdog halted. The Faran waved the flare again, drawing the goblins' eyes.

"I think we can go now!" Fraeya said, and the Bigdog bolted toward the sounds of war.

*****

A shadowy illusion with echoing barks followed. Most of the shadowy figures were cheering in victory, but others sounded frantic.

Not knowing who to trust, the glowing light zipped closer as they all looked alike, searching for a familiar face. The shadows transformed into dark soldiers as she approached, waving the light away like a pest.

She felt hopeless—the only thing she wanted was to scream. She wished to be saved, but no sound emerged. The shadows tried to draw closer but were suddenly pulled away, as if dragged by an unseen force.

"Assiaya, I cannot reach!"

"Stop struggling!"

Gagged through the cloth in her mouth, all Assiaya could do was stare at the terrifying Kiriyak carrying her. The horned warrior's glare reminded her she was once again a prisoner.

Looking around, she saw the other Tornlado Knighthood warriors navigating the countryside. Most were vampires from the Aristocracy, except for their scout Neko and the Toriffa dwarves assisting in the raid on the Palace Dungeon. Their necromancy just killed a dozen glowing bugs who were following.

"I cannot believe we had to capture this Lat twice," Barakon muttered.

"Maybe we should ask for a raise," Raygon replied.

"Our Lord gave us a massive reward," Partlia said. "Did you spend it all, already?"

"Of course not," Raygon responded. "I have a few coin left."

"Kidnapping a Princess twice," Oragona added. "That should earn us a legacy worth remembering."

"I think we deserve a castle this time," Raygon joked. "Or we sell her to the highest bidder and buy our own kingdoms."

Hearing this, Assiaya struggled in fear, not wanting to be sold. The Kiriyak laughed at her futile attempt—she could barely move against his strength.

The Neko, Barakon, turned. "It makes me wonder—why does our Lord want this trophy? She's just another weak Lat."

"It's obvious," Oragona said. "She's royalty. He enjoys trophies. Our Lord's House needs to show dominance."

"I would normally agree," Barakon responded. "But I've been confused since our first capture. We swore an oath of secrecy. If she were merely a symbol, why lie to the world about her death? There's something different about her."

"I say we double the price for each colored eye," Raygon said. "Maybe triple."

"Oragona," Barakon prompted. "Use your intellectuia magic. Read her mind. Let's discover our leader's secret."

"You know that's not how it works," Oragona replied flatly. "Navigating someone's mind takes hours and patience, especially without knowing what to search for."

"Afraid to try?" Barakon challenged.

Oragona glanced at the Princess, then adjusted his magical glove. The Kiriyak tossed her down like a sack of potatoes, shocking her with how small and overweight she seemed compared to them.

The vampire mage held his glowing hand above her head. Assiaya was transfixed by it, unable to look away. Some of her felt like she was separating from herself, yet no one entered her mind. She had seen it happen before—like when Ryder was captured—but this time it felt different.

"Strange," Oragona said. "Her mind is unusually resistant for her age. Wait… I hear another."

"Enough!" Rostian barked. "We are Knights. We follow orders—not glory or wealth."

"My apologies, Commander," Barakon said. "I was only bantering out of boredom. But you must admit—this whole thing is strange."

"I do not know why our Lord desires you," Rostian said, glancing at Assiaya. "But I have my suspicions. Regardless, until we reach your Master, no harm will come to you. Enough of this fearful talk. She surrendered honorably and will not be treated as scum."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The rest of the journey remained quiet, aside from the distant echoes of war. When they reached a small plateau, Assiaya's eyes widened. Smoke and flames rose from her city. Weapons fire lit the skies, explosions appearing at random.

A military camp sprawled across the plateau—tents, barricades, supplies everywhere. This was clearly a command post. But the most terrifying detail wasn't the camp—it was her former Master, Kallem Verliance.

All movement in the camp halted as Tornlado entered. Cheers erupted for their successful mission; others mocked the Slave Princess. It wasn't until the Vampire Lord raised his hand that silence returned.

Once order was restored, Kallem stepped forward. "I assume she's unharmed."

"She is, my Lord," Rostian replied. "She fought bravely—for a small Lat female."

Assiaya watched Kallem approach. He ordered the Kiriyak to lower her. As the horned warrior obeyed, Kallem sternly reminded him to be gentle.

Back on her feet, she stood in place. Kallem loomed above her, staring into her mismatched blue and gold eyes.

"Who is he looking at?" the voice asked.

"I do not know," Assiaya replied.

"I feel like he sees me," the voice said. "I've never felt that before."

Kallem broke his stare and turned to Rostian. "Did you see anything?"

Iradiun Rostian looked puzzled. "No, my Lord. She remained in that state most of the journey. She surrendered to save her military leader hiding in the dungeons."

To Assiaya's confusion, Kallem showed a flicker of relief. He reached down, cut her bonds, and removed the gag. "Enough games. You belong by my side. Resist, and Rostian will bind you again. There will be punishment at Forlace."

"Why speak to her?" Ere-hian sneered. "She's a slave. She has no right to oppose us."

"I am no slave," Assiaya snapped.

"You are less than that," Ere-hian replied. "Failed to lead a rebellion. And now, you've failed to be free. The only thing you have accomplished is bringing death to the peasants of this region."

Furious, the Slave Princess spat in the vampire boy's face, which shocked the vampire boy. Rostian reached for his sword, but Kallem calmed him, continuing to stare into her eyes. She glared back, refusing to flinch.

After a long pause, Kallem smirked. "You've changed."

The comment confused Assiaya, but fear kept her silent. She expected rage or punishment—but not this.

A wounded dragon soared above them. Its rear ballista fired a projectile into the city. The camp's attention shifted. Amid the distraction, Assiaya spotted a spirit tree, the same kind that once helped her evade an Akuma. She bolted for it, but Raygon intercepted her with ease.

Kallem stormed over, grabbing her by the collar. His expression said he was about to scold her but was interrupted by a mechanical roar and the screams of two women.

A robotic animal vaulted over the ridgeline, tumbling into the camp. Two figures flung from its back, colliding with Tornlado knights and cushioning their fall. The warriors destroyed the Altaerrie construct and dragged the intruders to Kallem's feet—a farian and a wood elf.

"What is the meaning of—" Kallem's eyes widened. "You… you are Raegel's daughter."

"Yes I am," Fraeya admitted definitely as she stood. She glanced at Ar'lya, who shot her a 'why did you say that' look. "I mean—no."

The soldiers cheered at their new prizes. But Assiaya felt something wicked approaching.

A screech, like nails on stone, silenced the camp. Fraeya and Ar'lya stared past the soldiers in terror, edging toward the Knights for protection.

Even Kallem looked east, the pride vanishing from his eyes, replaced by fear.

Assiaya turned and froze. A green, bony creature stood atop a boulder. Wide eyes surveyed the camp like a diner gazing at a buffet. It held a bloody short blade—a goblin.

The goblin screeched. A massive hand slammed down beside it, then another. A hobgoblin emerged, followed by hundreds of goblins, luperca, orcs, and other barbarian creatures.

"What did you two do?" Kallem asked, panic creeping into his voice.

The standoff lasted seconds before the goblin screeched again—and the Horde charged. The Aristocracy forces were vastly outnumbered, and most of their army was still fighting the Altaerrie.

Energy bolts, spears, poison pebbles, and flechettes whirled across the battlefield as the horde crashed into the camp like a tidal wave. Swords clashed, shields shattered, and the organization collapsed into chaos.

Kallem dropped Assiaya, drawing his sword. A green-skinned, blister-covered vampire lunged at him with a spear. The weapon struck Kallem's armor, and though his blade pierced the enemy's chest, the vampire ignored it, jaws snapping with rotten fangs. Kallem threw the creature down, stomping and impaling it.

More goblins burst through, forcing Kallem to abandon strategy and fight personally. His royal guards surrounded him, barely holding the line.

As Assiaya lay on the ground, stunned, something grabbed her shoulder. A goblin.

Before it could drag her away, five ice darts impaled its head. Fraeya rushed over to confirm the kill, while two floating boulders spun to her side. She launched them at another wave of attackers.

Ar'lya slid beside Assiaya. "We've got to go," she urged.

Desperate to escape, Assiaya stood. Ar'lya looked around. "Where do we go? I think we're cut off."

Assiaya pointed at the soul tree. "There."

"You're crazy," Ar'lya said.

"Why not?" Fraeya countered. "Anywhere is better than here."

The three women rushed through the chaos, weaving around Horde and Aristocracy warriors locked in a savage struggle to control the plateau. Assiaya couldn't make sense of the battle or who held the advantage—this was her first time in war. The sheer volume of barbarians overwhelmed the defenders, and she watched in horror as goblins poured into the medical tents, slaughtering or devouring dozens of wounded soldiers.

"Behind us!" a voice shouted in her mind.

Assiaya turned and saw Kallem quickly gaining on them. Before she could warn Ar'lya, the Vampire Lord lunged forward and ripped her from the Farian's grasp.

Ar'lya reacted instantly, spinning and attempting to drive her spear into one of the gaps in his armor. She failed. Kallem knocked the Farian woman to the ground. Snatching a shield from a nearby corpse, he deflected a barrage of ice darts from Fraeya. Charging forward, his shield suddenly turned to ice, forcing him to discard it—he hurled it at the elf to break her line of sight. He swung his sword, deliberately missing her head, but it caused the inexperienced Comanche mage to flinch, giving him the opening to drive his knee into her chest. Fraeya crumpled to the ground, stunned.

Fear seized Assiaya. Her former master had defeated her comrades, and it was happening again. She was being taken, and no one was strong enough to stop him.

A bright light overwhelmed her vision, and suddenly she felt weightless.

Hovering above the battlefield, Assiaya was disoriented. The glow that surrounded her pulsed gently as morning crept over the horizon. Fires raged below, the battlefield intermittently lit by magic and explosions.

She heard Kallem's voice and looked down. She was floating above hundreds of Aristocracy and Horde warriors locked in vicious combat. Then she saw herself—her physical body—held tightly in Kallem's grasp. Fraeya and Ar'lya struggled to recover nearby.

The Vampire Lord looked around as if confused, his expression strangely distant.

"So… this is what he meant…," Kallem thought aloud, his mental voice echoing.

The floating glow drifted toward her body but halted as a familiar voice drew her attention elsewhere. She turned to see Prince Ere-hian struggling against a swarm of goblins. His bodyguards were either dead or overwhelmed.

"Ere-hian," she whispered.

"My son?"

As soon as she spoke his name, Kallem stared at the unconscious princess in his arms. Her eyes were glowing. He didn't flinch, but turned instead toward the elf and Farian.

Without a word, Kallem tossed Assiaya's body toward Fraeya and Ar'lya. Then he turned and stormed into the battlefield, arriving just in time to save his son from a Luperca's blade.

"Did… did he understand me?" she wondered.

Before she could pursue the thought, she heard her body being touched. The two women were grabbing her—her physical form—causing her to awaken.

She opened her eyes, dazed, blood running from her nose.

"Was that you?" she asked internally.

"I think so…" the voice answered, unsure. "I was so stressed, and that happened. I just want to go home."

Reality came crashing back. Ar'lya impaled a goblin with her spear, while Fraeya summoned an ice wall to hold back the next wave.

Assiaya turned and spotted the soul tree. She crawled under it and sat beneath its roots, facing the battlefield, watching the carnage unfold. Fraeya constructed a small alg barrier atop the ice wall as Ar'lya picked off enemies attempting to breach their fragile fortification. The Horde and Aristocracy were still preoccupied fighting each other, but that wouldn't last forever.

Seeing no escape, Assiaya wished her father were here. She remembered the countless nights in the wild, how he protected her against impossible odds. Despite all the pain, he had been the first to treat her as something more than property. He loved her.

A crack shattered her thoughts. A hobgoblin smashed through the ice wall with a mace. Ar'lya and Fraeya stepped back, bracing for impact, unsure of their next move.

Then, the world dulled. A glowing spirit descended from the branches of a nearby sparkling cup plant, flitting back and forth like an insect. Hypnotized, Assiaya reached out and touched it.

"Hello?" she whispered.

No response. Instead, her vision shifted. The battle sounds dimmed until they were only echoes. She saw a different soul tree—the one she and her new father had once hidden beneath. He was slumped against it.

A terrifying metallic screech pierced the silence.

The Akuma was approaching. Spirit bugs swarmed the metal construct, causing it to lash out violently. The spirit she touched pulled her toward the scene, where she floated alongside other glowing entities.

Below, she saw herself and her father—though they weren't there physically. She felt their bodies lying against his, hidden for protection.

"You protected us? The Akuma couldn't see us," she said.

The glowing spirit vibrated in response. Two more joined it, circling her gently.

"Can you save us?" she asked.

The spirits slowly floated away. Their pulsing light faded.

"Wait! Are you… are you letting me float?"

The first spirit returned and gently pressed a glowing palm against her forehead.

The Akuma vanished. The present returned—this time from high above the battle again. Turning toward Salva, she scanned the horizon.

"Find Father," she said aloud.

She soared over retreating Aristocracy forces. The full strength of Altaerrie held a fortified hill, pushing the enemy back. In the distance, Salva's great walls still stood strong.

"Where do I find him?" she asked.

Her vision blurred. Shadowy figures were celebrated on the wall, and it was hard to distinguish anyone. The further she flew, the harder it became to see.

Then, one shadow separated from the others and began to descend—flying.

"It has to be Natilite!" she exclaimed. "She's the only one who can fly in Salva."

Summoning all her remaining strength, she directed herself toward the Valkyrie as she landed. As the shapes on the wall became soldiers, she spotted him. One face began to clear. It was Father.

From her perspective, a glowing feminine hand reached out—but before it could touch him, her arm began to vanish.

"Father!"

The vision collapsed. Salva faded into darkness. She couldn't return and felt helpless. But something massive stirred from the blackness.

A shadow followed her.

Suddenly, a blinding light consumed everything.

Assiaya snapped back to reality. The ice-dirt hybrid wall was shattered. A heavily armored hobgoblin had broken through.

"I've failed," the voice said.

"Assiaya!" Fraeya shouted. "Try to run!"

"Run where?" Ar'lya snapped.

But the hobgoblin was already dead, impaled by a massive alg spike through its chest—its body slumped over the remnants of the magical wall.

More Horde barbarians surged forward, scaling the wall and tearing down what remained. A shaman cast a burning mist over the structure, incinerating the ice and any goblins caught nearby. Fraeya desperately doused the fortification in water to reduce the damage, but much of the wall had already melted.

As another hobgoblin burst through, mace raised, a loud crack echoed across the battlefield.

Blood sprayed from its neck, and it fell backwards.

Ryder landed beside it, having dropped from Natilite's side. She landed next to him. The Captain raised his M45A2 and shot two goblins climbing the wall. The Valkyrie activated her orange shield, deflecting hostile fire.

Assiaya stared in disbelief. Her father—he was here. She crawled from beneath the soul tree and embraced him.

"Natilite!" Fraeya cried.

"Where did you two come from?" Ar'lya asked.

Ryder turned to the trio, tomahawk in one hand, his rifle in the other.

"Get Assiaya out of here. We'll cover you."

"Captain…" Fraeya hesitated. "I don't understand—"

"Obey my orders!" Ryder shouted, already turning back to face the enemy.

Standing atop the shattered wall, Natilite launched into the air, her wings spread wide, her sword gleaming.

"I need no translation for that," Ar'lya said, grabbing the Princess as she and Fraeya sprinted toward Salva.

*****

Mathew Ryder saw Ar'lya pulling his daughter away with Fraeya, protected by her magic, and heading toward the city. He hoped that Comanche would discover and defend them. At the same time, he and the Templar provided cover.

This plan should never have worked. However, seeing the sheer chaos unfolding before him, this moment had made it possible. The Aristocracy was violently fighting against the barbarians. Vastly outnumbered, their technology, professionalism, and tactics had proven to be their saving grace—at least for now. Still, dozens were dropping to the ground under the overwhelming numbers.

To the Horde, this wasn't war—it was a thrill. They were simple, but pure evil. They would chase the three for no reason other than primal instinct. Their bodies were piling up, but it didn't seem to matter.

"Quid Agendum?" Natilite asked.

Mathew Ryder's translator displayed the words on his HUD, indicating she was asking for the plan. His visor flooded with red IFF boxes, identifying numerous hostiles.

"Tenere Liniem," he replied—hold the line.

Knowing the Horde or the Aristocracy could easily catch up to Assiaya, Fraeya, and Ar'lya, the two had no choice but to hold the line until their friends escaped. Natilite flexed her wings and burst forward, slicing a hobgoblin's arm in half before finishing the rest of the body.

Ryder rushed out of the broken fortification, ramming his tomahawk into a goblin's head. He turned and spotted multiple hostiles charging toward him. Using his iron sights, he fired three shots, killing two of the incoming green monsters. As the last one closed in, he dodged the reversed elecprobus and thrust his weapon upward, slicing through its face.

A painful scream behind him made the Captain spin around. A goblin collapsed as Natilite rushed past the now-dead body. She stepped on the throat, finishing the kill.

The Templar raised her left shield arm to block a rustic blade while ramming her sword into a wolf creature's chest. She pulled back, swung around, and blocked a goblin's strike using her wings. With a fluid motion, she sliced into the green monster's neck with her energy shield and sword in tandem.

She continued to use her agility to outmaneuver the Horde. Ryder smashed his tomahawk into a barbaric wood elf, then drew his pistol and shot more creatures trying to flank her.

Natilite flew upward before dropping down, ramming her shield into a goblin with kinetic momentum. Kneeling, she looked toward Ryder, then thrust past him, impaling an aristocratic vampire who had been sneaking up behind him.

An orc charged him. Ryder blocked with his tomahawk, but the orc grabbed his arm and bit down his battlesuit. The armor held, and Ryder fired two shots into its chest before being thrown aside.

His HUD was filled with red indicators, and dozens of hostiles surrounded them. Ryder unloaded his magazine, killing several with his .45 caliber rounds, then quickly reloaded. Before he could finish, more attacks came. He dodged, turned, and shot an orc in the back. A spear exploded against his armor, sending him flying. He rolled and landed on his knees, fired again, and killed two more.

A goblin broke through and lunged. Ryder swung his tomahawk, knocking away the sword and slicing the creature's chest.

Explosions from energy bolts and flying stones erupted around him. He killed three ranged attackers, but noticed even more flooding in.

A goblin leapt while a barbaric wood elf charged. Ryder grabbed the foam-mouthed elf and used his battlesuit's exoskeleton to amplify his strength, using the elf as a body shield against the goblin's sword. The weapon pierced through and stuck. Ryder tossed the elf aside and rammed his tomahawk into the goblin's neck.

Natilite rushed past him again, her shield deflecting an Aristocracy energy bolt. Ryder turned and eliminated the attacker. The Templar then stood behind him, weapons ready, catching her breath.

"Mathew. Recedo?" she asked.

Ryder scanned the battlefield and exhaled. His entire body ached from a night of endless combat, and this final melee push drained him further. He could only hope Assiaya, Fraeya, and Ar'lya had reached Salva.

The battle was winding down. The Horde was pushed back. Vampires were regrouping into more miniature coordinated packs, retaking the camp. Whistles echoed from the western plateau—J'avais reinforcements were arriving to secure the area.

"Retreat," Ryder ordered.

As the Valkyrie slid down the slope, Ryder paused to survey the end of the battle. He spotted Kallem Verliance, having just killed an orc, standing beside a younger vampire, surrounded by Tornlado Knights. Their eyes locked.

Every part of Ryder wanted to kill Kallem for this. But there was no clean shot. With the battle ending, any move now would be suicidal. Instead, he raised his middle finger at the Vampire Lord before sliding down the hill.

Regrouping with Natilite, the two rushed through rocky terrain, funneled into a narrow path. Energy bolts rained from above as J'avais soldiers secured the plateau, followed by sniper flechettes from circilmen.

Natilite leapt onto a boulder and into the air—but an energy bolt struck her left wing, sending her crashing down.

Ryder slid beside her. Smoke rose from her back. Her once radiant purple-to-cyan wing was now charred and blackened. The wing housing on her back was scorched.

"Mea, meum ala," Natilite gasped.

"Hold on, Nat," Ryder said, leaning over the boulder and opening fire with his M45A2.

A flechette landed near his hand. Natilite raised her shield, but struggled.

Ryder spotted a group of J'avais on a nearby ridgeline—half laying fire, half flanking. It brought back a haunting memory of the last time they hunted him.

Realizing they were about to be overrun, Ryder grabbed two fragmentation grenades, pressed the red buttons, and tossed one at the vampires and the other at the J'avais. As they exploded, he lifted Natilite's arm over his shoulder and carried her down the path.

She mumbled in another language—likely cursing through the pain.

Bolts and flechettes struck around them. A massive purple spark from a hand mortar exploded nearby, blasting them into the air. They crashed into the rocky ground.

Ryder turned, seeing a J'avais rounding the corner. He grabbed Natilite's arm and used her energy shield to block the shot, though it drained the shield completely. He then drew his sidearm and shot the attacker, his magazine now empty.

He tried moving his leg but couldn't. The battlesuit joint was fused—his right leg was immobile. As more hostiles arrived, a mix of vampires and J'avais, Ryder searched for more ammo—nothing left. But then a prominent figure dropped from the large boulder behind them.

The hostiles turned and saw an American soldier standing there—not an average-sized man but a six-foot-three man with giant arms, Sergeant Eger Wallace. The bulky Comanche grabbed the vampire staff weapon and tackled through the enemy squad, utilizing his tomahawk and the staff weapon as they struggled to counter.

The other Aristocracy warriors on the exterior fell from gunfire as Rommel King and Bruno Barrios appeared, leaping from the boulder. As Wallace finished off what remained of the enemy squad, they began securing the area. The Twins engaged the hostile humans on the hill, with King kneeling beside them.

"You two all right?"

Ryder leaned up. "My daughter… and—"

"They're okay," King assured him. "They're with the team farther back."

Relief flooded Ryder, but he pushed it aside—they still had to retreat.

"We're going to be overrun," Barrios warned.

"We're not staying," King replied. "Edger—get them out of here."

Without a word, Wallace switched with King and strapped his weapon to his back. He lifted both wounded comrades in his bulky arms and started running.

Wallace powered through the rough path, followed by Rommel and Barrios. The J'avais tried to follow but were pinned down by rifle fire.

Up ahead, Ryder saw the rest of Comanche on a ridgeline, laying down suppressive fire.

Once they reached the top, the enemy ceased pursuit. For the first time since yesterday, they could finally breathe.

The enemy had been thrown out of the city.