Surviving the Simulation: The Grand Crusade

A boot gently nudged Xander awake the next morning, but it wasn't until he heard the pop-hiss of a can of soda being opened that he really opened his eyes. Rex was standing over him, holding a soda out to him and offering him a hand up.

"My turn for watch?" Xander asked, accepting both the soda and hand up.

"No, I let you sleep and took your watch. You looked exhausted from bottoming out your mana yesterday. Man, that still feels weird to say."

"You didn't have to take my watch, but I really appreciate it. You're right, I was exhausted. We really need to find more healers, or at least ones that are more efficient than a paladin is. I'm good in a pinch, but I'm more of a utility player," Xander said.

Rex swept his gaze across the camp. "On a slightly less cheerful note, two of the guards slipped out during the night."

"Just two? You sure they didn't just head out to take a leak and never came back?"

Rex gave him a look, the kind that said he'd already thought of that.

"They left a pouch behind. Could've been on purpose, could've been an oversight. The rest of their gear's gone. Travel rations, weapons were all missing. But the way they left it? It's... weird. Like they wanted someone to find it, just not us."

"They trying to send a message, or cover their tracks with a decoy?"

Rex shrugged. "Could be both. Hell, for all we know, it could be some kind of weird silent monster attack."

"Great. There is a fresh fear I didn't need." Xander replied, reaching into his pack for some breakfast. "You thinking desertion?"

"Maybe. But I don't like the feel. It's too clean for a panic run, too messy for a plan, too quiet for a monster attack… hopefully."

Xander stood, glancing across the rest of the camp. Nobody else had noticed yet, but that wouldn't last long. "If they were just scared, they'd have run light and quiet. Not left behind props. And if they were traitors, they wouldn't have dropped anything unless they screwed up."

Rex nodded grimly.

"Keep your eyes open. If they left more behind than they meant to, we'll want to find it before someone else does," Xander continued. Something about it felt off. Staged. But it was the kind of staged that hid a second act.

"I've got my guys sniffing around already. Was just about to talk to our good captain," Rex said as he turned toward the guard. Xander caught the tight set of his jaw. He was already bracing for the conversation. "I'll let you know if anything else turns up. This doesn't sit right."

"Yeah," Xander muttered. "Tell me something that does."

Greetings, players! Simulation patch incoming! The AI engines acknowledge that the simulation crash caused the loss of significant basic simulation knowledge, and this was not the players' fault.

Therefore, in addition to various bug fixes and balancing adjustments needed due to the reboot, the Controller Engine has added a new feature called the Data Forge, as an online repository of information maintained by players. It is important to note that the Controller Engine will monitor the accuracy of the data presented. Players found to be intentionally providing false information will have their ability to contribute suspended or revoked based on other player feedback.

You can access this online repository at any established safe zone via your player interface.

"Well, that's a hell of a thing. You don't think Morvinn had something to do with this, do you?" Zoey asked.

"It's possible, I suppose, but many others have likely requested this as well. I'm sure the AI controlling the Simulation can probably hear everything. It'd be hubris to think it's specifically watching us. Not to mention terrifying," Xander replied, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think this change was coming from his discussion with Morvinn. He wasn't sure how he felt about attracting the attention of an entity like the Controller Engine, the AI that literally controlled the world.

Packing up his bedroll while finishing his breakfast, Xander considered his short and long-term goals for a moment. Finding Jo was certainly top of the list, and finishing this dungeon should complete that. After that, it was a breakdown of personal and community goals.

He truly believed the only way humanity was going to get through this was to stick together, so whatever was rotten in the St. Joe safe zone needed to be dealt with. He certainly wasn't some white knight riding to save everyone. If he was honest with himself, he'd watch the world burn to save Jo. Screw that notion of the good of the many outweighing the good of the one garbage. Still, he couldn't just let such blatant bullshit in the safe zone stand.

What are my personal goals after finding Jo, though? He thought.

He did like clearing dungeons, but going from one fight to the next with no downtime or supporting skills would not be a path to success.

He took that last part back. The definition of success was key, as dungeons had proven extremely profitable. It was going to take the economy a bit to get restarted, but it would eventually. It was just human nature. And once it did, dungeon diving was going to be high risk, high reward.

He thought back to all the crafting items they had found so far. Maybe it was the Simulation trying to restart crafting since it was going to be a survival skill humanity needed sooner rather than later, or maybe crafting was important even before the crash.

Reaching into his belt pouch, he stroked the spine of the training book Morvinn had given him.

Xander had always enjoyed working with his hands. His day job had been all meetings, clients, and endless emails, but weekends were different. Back then, he'd lose hours tinkering with his Jeep, building gear, or just camping off-grid. Blacksmithing full-time, tied to a safe zone forge, wasn't for him, but crafting always appealed to him. Funny how every role-playing game he'd ever played had made crafting feel essential. Like the world itself was nudging players toward it. Lately, he'd started wondering if that wasn't a coincidence. Maybe those old systems had leaked from the Simulation's core.

"Xander!" Rex's voice cut sharply through the chamber.

Xander turned, already on alert. Rex was heading his way with the captain of the guard a step behind, both looking like they'd walked through a fire and come out ready to light another.

"What now?" Xander asked, hand hovering near his mace.

"Tell him," Rex said, jaw clenched.

The captain didn't hesitate. He handed over a standard-issue satchel. Nothing remarkable at first glance.

"Found this just behind a crate, near where the deserters camped," the captain said. "Rations, log notes, potion. The kind of thing someone might forget in a hurry... or want found."

Xander opened the satchel and pulled out the contents: a sealed minor stamina potion with a Safe Zone stamp, single MRE pack, and a page of scrawled notes along with other odds and ends.

He read the note aloud, voice flat, "Monitoring adventurer morale. Unstable traits noted. Additional observation recommended before escalation."

"Subtle." Xander grimmaced.

"They wanted us to find it," Rex said. "Wanted you looking at us sideways, or the captain looking at you. Just enough smoke to start a fire."

"It's a bit too on the nose, that's for sure," Xander said, refolding the note. "Everything you'd expect to find in the backpack, but nothing of real importance."

Before he could move, a familiar shimmer flickered at the edge of his vision.

Cabbot materialized near the crate in a ripple of faint blue light, spectral fur ruffled and ears half-tilted back in disinterest. She sniffed once at the crate's base, then stretched languidly, arching her back in a perfect curve. One paw lazily batted at a spot near the bottom board.

She yawned as if bored to death, then sauntered away without a backward glance.

Xander frowned, tracking the slight disturbance she had pawed at. He crouched low, inspecting the floor. A faint drag in the dust. Barely noticeable unless you knew where to look or, in this case, someone pointed it out. Wedged deep under the crate's edge was a sliver of worn leather.

"Hang on," he muttered, reaching forward. His fingers brushed the worn leather.

He pulled free a small pouch tied shut. This one wasn't like the satchel. Someone had deliberately wedged it behind the crate. Forgotten... or overlooked in a hurry.

Xander untied the cord and poured the contents into his palm. A bronze coin dropped first, rough-edged and stamped with a jagged tribal glyph. He didn't need to see it twice.

Rex was already at his shoulder. "That's not good."

"Yeah," Xander said, turning it over with his thumb. "Same sigil from the war banner."

He shook out the folded parchment. A hand-drawn map, crude but detailed. It outlined this section of the dungeon, with markings that mirrored gnoll patrols they had already encountered. The same glyph labeled some intersections.

Zoey joined them, crouching beside Xander.

"That wasn't planted," she said.

"No," Xander agreed. "They stashed it. Probably meant to grab it on the way out. But they missed it. And now we know exactly who they were working with."

The captain stepped closer, frowning. "You're saying these weren't deserters? They were operatives."

"I'm saying," Xander replied, "someone back in St. Joe has an arrangement with the gnolls. Not an alliance. Something messier. Mutual convenience."

He stood, closing his hand around the pouch as Cabbot, now halfway across the room, sat back on her haunches and began casually grooming her paw like nothing had happened.

"Smart girl," Xander murmured under his breath.

Rex crossed his arms. "Captain, I think someone has played us."

Xander held up the pouch. "Yeah. But they screwed up."

As the conversation wound down, Victor looked like the obvious suspect. But Xander wasn't ready to carve it in stone yet. Things that looked obvious usually had teeth hidden underneath.

He remembered something JT had told him once, back when they were first digging into how safe zones worked: you could not just kill a zone leader and take over. The Simulation had rules about stability and succession. Leadership had to pass cleanly, through recognized channels, or the whole zone's protections could unravel.

Victor had to know that. Which meant he needed something subtler than a coup. He needed instability and fear. Just enough chaos that he could step in looking like the answer to the problem and not the cause.

The deserters, the patrol maps, the stoked tension between the guards and adventurers all pointed at someone trying to kick the legs out from under the current system.

Victor fit that picture a little too well, but Xander had seen enough bad plays to know the first guess was rarely the full story.

The open revelation instantly dispelled much of the hostility between the two groups. The only point of stress was a heated discussion between Xander and the captain of the guard when it was suggested that the party immediately return to the safe zone to deal with Victor. Xander was most certainly not aligned with that idea, given how close he was to possibly finding Jo.

Rex proved to be the voice of reason on the topic and reminded the captain that another wave of gnolls was set to attack the safe zone unless they stopped the dungeon overflow. It made little sense to return to the safe zone to solve the issue there, only to have to fight off another wave before returning to the dungeon to solve the more pressing issue. Thankfully, the captain agreed and admitted that he was letting his emotions at being deceived cloud his judgement. Clearing the dungeon as fast as possible was the correct path forward.

If the reaction from the captain of the guard had been bad, then when they broke the news to the entire group, the reaction was even worse. There were several comments about various methods that should remove Victor from the equation, along with the desire to take on the task immediately. Revenge is always a powerful emotion, but between Rex and the captain of the guard they were able to get buy in from the group that stopping the overflow was the immediate danger.

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"Ten minutes, then we move," Rex called out to the group, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "Pack up, check your gear. We finish clearing this place and get our people out."

As the team moved to ready themselves, Rex caught Xander's eye and tilted his head slightly. Without needing a word, Xander followed him a few steps away from the others, his boots crunching lightly on the cavern floor.

Rex handed over the folded parchment they had pulled from the deserters' stash, tapping a rough finger against a name halfway down the list. Alexander White.

Xander frowned as he took it. "I thought Alex just found something better," he said after a moment. "He was never really tied to us. He tagged along for the ride, seeing where things fit. I figured maybe he found a safer gig or something that fit him better than we did."

"Maybe he did," Rex said. "Or maybe he stuck around longer than he should have and saw something he was not supposed to."

Xander stared at the name, feeling a cold weight settle into his chest. He had thought little of Alex drifting off at the time. Hell, half the people they met were trying to find their own angles to survive. But now, with everything they knew about Victor's manipulation and the staged disappearances, that Alex had just moved on felt dangerously naive.

"If Victor is behind this," Xander said slowly, "then Alex is either working with him or is in more danger than I ever expected."

"You could not have known," Rex said. "You trusted people would look after themselves. That is not on you."

"Does not mean it sits right," Xander responded.

He folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into his pack, feeling the crinkle of the worn paper against his fingers before sealing it away. His mind kept turning, looping through every brief conversation he had ever had with Alex, every missed chance to ask the right question.

"I need to find Jo," he said. "After that, Victor and I are going to have a talk."

Across the cavern, the group was almost ready. Cabbot perched atop a nearby crate, spectral and aloof, her tail twitching once in lazy rhythm as if none of the human drama unfolding nearby concerned her.

The uneasy truce between the guards and the adventurers held as they pressed deeper into the dungeon. It was not trust exactly, but it was enough for now. With the deserters exposed and a common enemy ahead of them, they moved with a rough sort of coordination, one that only grew stronger as necessity forced them into it.

The air grew hotter with every step, thick with the sharp smell of turned earth and the metallic bite of stone dust. Gone was the sound of dripping water and the wet rot of the upper tunnels. Now, the low, constant rhythm of mining tools against stone echoed through the corridors, a dull vibration that set Xander's teeth on edge.

The passageways narrowed, the ceilings dropping lower, the walls pressing in. It felt less like a ruin and more like a scar carved deep into the world. Each fight came harder now. The gnoll patrols struck with brutal efficiency, their tactics sharp and coordinated. There were no random skirmishes here. Every ambush was measured, meant to bleed them dry a little at a time.

Xander could feel it in the way his armor sat heavier on his shoulders, in the way the team's movements grew just a little slower, a little sloppier. Fatigue was creeping in, a slow grind that wore at both body and mind.

He shoved it aside. Jo was somewhere ahead, he was sure of it. That simple fact burned through the exhaustion, kept his feet moving when every instinct screamed to stop, to rest, to breathe. There would be time for all of that later.

Twenty minutes later, they found the source of the sound. In the shadowy depths of the subterranean realm, a vast cavern unfolded beneath a ceiling that barely scraped twelve feet. The air was thick with the acrid scent of freshly hewn stone, mingling with the metallic tang of the precious ores laid bare by the labor of enslaved miners.

Two dozen human miners, clad in tattered and soot-stained attire, worked ceaselessly amidst the gloom. Some wield pickaxes, chipping away at the stubborn rock faces to reveal veins of shimmering ore. Others push laden mine carts along tracks that crisscrossed the cavern floor, transporting the fruits of their labor to unseen destinations. The dull echo of their collective efforts reverberated against the cavern walls, an unspoken symphony of industry and suffering.

Overseeing this grim orchestra were the hulking figures of the gnoll guards, their fur matted and stained with dirt and blood, patrolling the mine with predatory intent. Their yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light, and their snarls echoed against the walls as they oversaw the forced labor of captive workers. The cruel whips in their hands ensured the miners adhered to their relentless pace. The miners cast furtive glances toward the oppressive figures, their eyes betraying a mix of exhaustion, fear, and a glimmer of rebellion.

"I count ten guards. The miners aren't going to be any help here. They're all chained," Rex said, analyzing the tactical situation. "I haven't seen the head guard, though. If it is here, we need to drop him fast as he'll most likely have the keys to the miners' chains."

"Do we need to worry about one of those things you guys had to fight at that camp outside? I'd heard stories from the people you'd rescued," the captain of the guard inquired.

"I'm going to say yes, but the miners here should be able to get out of the line of fire if we do this right. If we can prevent prisoner deaths, we should be okay," Rex said.

In what could only be called the worst possible timing, a large female gnoll entered the cavern from the other side just as a fighter from the group was moving to a better vantage point on the end of the cavern the team had entered from. While the guards were focused on the miners, the female gnoll was most likely just passing through the cavern and therefore was looking right at where the team had hidden.

[Analyze] Gnoll | Level: 7 | Status: Hostile | Class: Deathmage
[Analyze] Fiendish Hyena | Level: 5 | Status: Hostile | Class: Demonic Beast
[Analyze] Fiendish Hyena | Level: 5 | Status: Hostile | Class: Demonic Beast

"Shit, it's another deathmage," Rex said. "It's not a named boss, though. Target her and the dogs first. Drop them at the same time. Xander, sanctify the ground. We never did figure out which one worked to stop her from healing the last time. If this one heals, it will most likely target the miners and then we've got bigger problems. Go go go!"

The female gnoll deathmage, her fur adorned with mystical runes, stepped forward, flanked by her two menacing hyenas. The cavern's amber glow reflected in her cold, calculating eyes as it unleashed a wave of dark energy as shadow bolts, tendrils of shadow dancing around her fingertips.

Xander snapped off a divine aegis on the deathmage's target just moments before the shadow bolts slammed home. While his move had most likely saved the deathmage's target, it also drew the attention of the deathmage itself, and it was not happy.

With a growl, it commanded its hyenas to charge Xander as it continued to stare at him, its eyes burning with hate.

The excitement never stops, Xander thought.

He thought that being a lightforge variant of a paladin put a giant 'kill me first' sign over his head for dark aligned classes.

Setting himself for the charge, he was confident he could stop one hyena, but not both.

This is going to hurt, he thought as the first hyena impaled itself against his spear while the second one slammed into him full force.

Releasing his grip on his spear, Xander pulled his mace from his belt and delivered a smite empowered backhand to the hyena that had bowled him over. The two circled each other for a moment before the hyena leapt in for a strike against Xander's leg. Twisting to the right, he snapped out with his boot to kick the hyena away. He needed his spear back. Now that they could charge at him, his spear was his best bet for keeping both hyenas at bay.

Elsewhere, the clash of weapons reverberated through the cavern as the gnoll guards engaged with the rest of the adventuring party. A surprise attack would have made the fight much easier, but, as Rex was fond of saying, you fight the battle you're given, not the one you hoped for.

"If you are a non-combatant, get out of the way or run through our group to get behind us!" Rex commanded as the miners abandoned the tasks they had been engaged in before the fight broke out.

Out of the dozen captives, the majority ran through the adventurer's line to get out from between the two groups. Unfortunately, there were two miners on the other side of the cavern who would have needed to move through the gnolls to reach their fellow captives. Those two attempted to make themselves as small as possible by squeezing into a small alcove and likely praying that nobody noticed them until everything was over.

Zoey provided Xander with the distraction he needed to retrieve his spear with two well placed frost imbued arrows into the hyena that had been harassing him. Grasping the shaft of his spear, which was still impaled in the first hyena, Xander pivoted both the spear and the hyena into the path of the second. Both hyenas struck each other and fell over into a tumble. As the two hyenas fell away from Xander, he could finally pull his spear free from the one it had gotten stuck in.

The battle had dissolved into a grinding, brutal stalemate. Every clash of weapons, every shouted order, every scream of pain echoed through the tight tunnels until the noise became a wall pressing in on Xander from all sides. The narrow stone passages funneled the sound until it seemed to come from everywhere at once, the clash of steel against gnoll axes, the wet snap of armor splitting under heavy blows, the high-pitched yelps of the hyenas as they lunged and twisted in the chaos.

Xander jabbed the butt of his spear forward, catching one hyena just below the throat and forcing it back with a wet grunt. The other circled low, muscles bunching beneath mangy fur, waiting for an opening. Further behind the skirmish line, Zoey loosed another arrow, the shot punching into the creature's shoulder, but the beast barely flinched. Blood smeared the stones, but it did not slow its charge.

Beyond them, Rex was locked in a vicious duel with the deathmage. Sickly green flares of magic lit the walls in flickering bursts as he hammered forward, each blow a calculated risk against the caster's defenses. The deathmage fought with ruthless precision, her staff sweeping wide to knock Rex back whenever he pressed too close.

The safe zone guards were struggling to hold their lines, boxed in by gnoll flanking squads that drove them into tighter formations with every clash. Their shields dipped lower with every exchange, their footing slipping inch by inch across blood-slick stone. No clean victories came here, only the slow grind of exhaustion wearing them thin, the enemy content to bleed them out one heartbeat at a time.

Xander shifted his weight, the shaft of his spear slick in his hands from sweat and blood. One hyena lunged low, snapping upward toward his leg. He drove the spear down, the tip glancing off bone, and snarled as the impact jolted through his arms and shoulders. The second hyena crashed into him from the side, teeth scraping against the dented plates of his armor, and he stumbled, ribs flaring with sharp, immediate pain.

There was no time to react cleanly. He dropped the spear for a half-second, yanked the mace from his belt, and swung hard. The heavy weapon connected with a crunch that sent vibrations through his arm and into his teeth, staggering the creature but not dropping it.

The battlefield roared around him. The clash of metal, the guttural shouts of commands barely heard, the screams of miners cut short too fast. Each sound layered over the next until it created an unrelenting storm, leaving no room for clean thought or strategy.

Xander could feel it slipping away. The team was being pushed, held down and drained while their real mission ground to a halt. Jo was somewhere ahead, the clock ticking down toward another safe zone attack, and every delay bled away precious time they would not get back.

Grinding his teeth against the pain in his side, Xander pushed forward again, driving the hyena back with brute force. Another arrow from Zoey zipped past his shoulder, forcing the second creature to stagger and regroup. Across the field, their eyes met, exhaustion clear in both, but neither willing to give up the ground they still held.

As the battle unfolded, the miners, seeing that their saviors could themselves use a hand, rallied. Some improvised weapons from discarded mining tools, joining the fight against their former oppressors. The cavern resonated with the clash of wills, weapons, and magic. The outcome hanging in the balance: the fate of the miners and the adventurers entwined in the ebb and flow of this subterranean struggle.

"Xander! Get ready!" Rex called as he slowly maneuvered the deathmage closer to Xander over the course of the battle.

"Ready! Zoey, balls out on the switch!" Xander replied, glancing at the deathmage just long enough to cast judgement. He wanted to hit it as hard as he could right at the switch.

"Physically impossible for me, but I'll make sure I bring the pain instead," Zoey quipped.

"Three… two…. switch!" Rex said as he disengaged from the deathmage to intercept the hyenas.

Confusion transformed into comprehension as the deathmage processed what had just happened. Unfortunately for it, though, there was nothing it could do. Xander channeled smite through his spear as it punctured the gnoll's neck. Blood gurgled from its mouth as it struggled, pulling against the spear. Hate still burned in its eyes the entire time its life drained from them.

"Xander, dogs are down. Sanctify!"

Xander didn't respond, but waited a moment to see if the tendrils they had seen from the previous deathmage fight appeared.

After a moment, when they didn't appear, Xander still cast sanctify for good measure. Unsure if it was a boss ability or if the trick was to kill the deathmage and her hyenas at the same time, he filed the information away to add to the wiki later.

The fall of the deathmage signaled the turning point in the fight as the adventurers and miners made quick work of the remaining gnoll guards. It took a bit of searching, but Zoey was able to find the keys for the shackles. As it turned out, Xander was wrong, and they weren't on one of the guards, but rather hanging on a hook at the far end of the cavern. She took a moment to tease him once again about not being the main character, as the main character would have immediately gotten it right. He just shook his head and chuckled before hurriedly making his way to the cluster of newly freed miners.

The survivors lay scattered across the cavern floor, slumped against the walls or sitting heavily where exhaustion overcame them. Blood streaked the ground in thick, drying trails, but there was life here too, stubborn and clinging. Xander moved from one miner to the next, ignoring the heavy drag of fatigue in his limbs, pushing through the haze clouding his mind.

"Jo! Is there someone here named Jo?" he called out.

A battered man, face half-hidden beneath grime and sweat, stirred sluggishly. "You know Jo?" he rasped. "She ain't with this group."

Xander crossed the distance in two strides, heart hammering faster. "I know her. Where is she? Is she alive?"

The miner wiped at his mouth with a trembling hand, nodding weakly. "Last I saw, they needed more labor for the forge. They took her to the smelting room, a few days back."

The words slammed into Xander harder than any blow he had taken since the dungeon began. Jo was not just a memory flickering at the edge of a broken world. She was here. She was close. He pressed the surge of emotion down, sealing it behind gritted teeth. There would be time for feelings later. Maybe. Right now, there was only forward. He crouched low, setting to work binding wounds with quick, efficient movements, his focus sharp but burning at the edges. The captain of the guard moved through the group at the same time, handing out spare weapons to those miners strong enough to hold them. Most were too battered, too empty, to be anything more than survivors clinging to the hope of an escape. Two guards from the safe zone broke away, escorting the freed prisoners back toward the main wagon at the mine entrance, where the others waited.

"We hold here," Rex said, voice rising above the clatter of shifting armor and scattered conversation. "Take five. Patch yourselves up. Eat if you have it. We are at the final stretch."

Xander barely heard him. Jo was close. The thought ran like fire under his skin, lending him a restless, stubborn energy that refused to burn out.

He found Rex crouched by a crude map scratched into the dirt, the broken tip of a dagger tracing rough marks that only loosely resembled the tunnels ahead. Speaking to Xander and the few fighters close enough to hear, Rex said, "Two areas left. The armory is first. Miners say there are weapons and armor stockpiled nearby. No prisoners there. Then..."

His voice faltered. "Then we reach Fang Smeltbinder."

The name hung between them, heavier than the stink of blood and earth filling the cavern. Fang was not just another obstacle. He was the end of the road. The few fragmented accounts they had pried from the miners painted a picture of a forge that was less a place of work and more a place of execution, a brutal dominion ruled by something worse than the gnoll packs they had fought so far. They could feel it already, thrumming faintly beneath their boots, vibrating in the stagnant heat of the deeper tunnels ahead.

"Jo's ahead," Xander said, voice low and rough in his throat.

"And Fang stands between us," Rex answered.

Xander nodded once, sharp and final. There was no hesitation in him. No clean fear, only the jagged, driving need to see Jo again, to tear down whatever wall stood in his way. His hands moved without thought, checking weapons, tightening armor, every action a promise written in his bones. He caught Zoey's eye across the cavern and she nodded once, simple and sure. Around them, the rest of the battered survivors braced themselves in their own ways, patching armor, whispering quiet words, adjusting gear. Speeches were unnecessary. No promises. Everyone here knew what they faced.

The next fight was not another skirmish or a chance to snatch a little more ground. It was the endgame. One way or another, it would finish here. And not all of them would walk away.