Chapter 22: Fight

Tayo’s grip on the exotic blade tightened.

“Not my life,” he said. “If you release everyone from the game, I’ll—”

“Game?” Gotar's voice sharpened like the edge of a guillotine. “This is our reality. Our life and death. This is no game.”

Tayo’s eyes wavered. “Yes. If you release us from this world, I’ll give you the sword.”

“Unfortunately,” he said, “I do not possess that power. But I do have the key to the next realm.”

Gotar then reached into a leather pouch hanging at his waist. From it, he withdrew a gleaming key, encrusted with jewels that shimmered.

He extended his palm, letting the key glint between his claws. “Give me the sword—and you can have it.”

Tayo narrowed his eyes. “Let me speak to the one who can set us free.”

Gotar’s voice dropped to a low, growling rumble. “If it’s death you want, I can give you that myself.”

He moved with shocking speed. His sword slashed out in a wide arc, but Tayo ducked, rolling beneath the strike. The kilobons surged forward. Tayo met them head-on.

The battle turned brutal. Steel clashed. He parried and struck, cutting down one kilobon, granting another group of terrified hostages the chance to flee. Then Gotar was in front of him again, his great blade almost shape like a scythe.

Tayo dodged and closed in, weaving past the bursts of wind Gotar launched at him with flicks of his wrist.

“Why?” Tayo shouted between blows. “Why are you doing this? Why kill us? Why did you kill your creator?”

Gotar’s expression twisted into pain and rage. “He was the one who unleashed the darkness—corrupting my people, poisoning our lands—all so you gamers could find purpose in our torment! This world is ours! We are not your playthings.”

A kilobon rushed to Gotar's side and whispered urgently in the guttural, snarling tongue of beasts.

“My lord, more gamers are approaching.”

Gotar sighed, as if disappointed.

“And here I thought we were negotiating terms.”

He lunged.

Tayo barely evaded the strike, slipping past him and bursting through the city gates into open terrain. He didn’t look back. He had to lead them away.

“Get him!” Gotar roared.

The warlord and his kilobons gave chase, thundering through the gate in pursuit. Tayo allowed himself a glance over his shoulder. Good—they were following. It was working. The others were getting away.

But then, too suddenly, the pounding footsteps behind him ceased.

Gotar had stopped.

He raised a hand and barked in beast-speech to his minions.

“Stop! We’re going back.”

They turned, one by one, abandoning pursuit.

Tayo stumbled to a halt, confused. Then he heard the words carried on the wind behind him.

“We’re going to kill every last one of your people.”

His blood ran cold.

He spun around.

Gotar was walking away—but slowly, deliberately. Reciting something under his breath in a language ancient and crackling with magic.

“From the four corners of the earth... wrap me in your invisible arms.”

The air thickened.

The wind began to move.

It gathered with unnatural force, surrounding Gotar in a vortex of spinning, translucent currents. Then—whoosh—it exploded outward.

Before Tayo could brace himself, the wind seized him. It yanked him forward like a rag doll. He shot across the field toward Gotar—straight into the warlord’s waiting grip.

Gotar’s hand clamped around his neck.

“Wind Magic: Living Gale.”

Tayo choked. He kicked and writhed, struggling, but the grip tightened like a vice. He raised the Sword of Light in one final effort to strike—but Gotar punched his hand, sending the blade clattering to the ground.

Another blow smashed into Tayo’s ribs. Then both of Gotar’s hands returned to his throat.

“Killing us won’t help you…” Tayo gasped.

Gotar only smiled and squeezed harder.

Tayo’s vision blurred. The world darkened at the edges. The pulse in his ears became thunder.

And then—

Boom!

An explosion slammed into the back of Gotar’s head.

Then an arrow ricochets off his helmet.

The warlord staggered. He wasn’t hurt—not really. His armor had absorbed the worst of it. But the grip around Tayo's throat loosened. Tayo is able to escape.

Another shot flew—Gotar caught this one mid-air and crushed it.

He turned toward the source.

A shimmer in the air. Moving. Elusive.

Hiro.

Tayo dropped to the ground, coughing violently. He scrambled for the professor’s sword.

Gotar, now furious, raised his weapon and slashed toward the shimmer. The air compressed and released, a slicing burst of wind cutting toward Hiro. She twisted, narrowly dodging.

Tayo rose, sword once again in hand.

He turned to Hiro’s direction.

“Keep firing,” he called out hoarsely. “I’ll go in close.”

***

In the town square, Henry juggled heated stones between his hands and hurling them with deadly accuracy. Each rock shimmered with the intensity of molten lava, and when they struck, the results were devastating—goblins shrieked and sizzled as the searing projectiles burned clean through their twisted forms.

Behind him, warrior-class gamers shouted orders and formed human shields, carving out safe corridors for the injured and unarmed. The square was chaos, filled with battle cries.

Then, from the far end of the square, a new menace surged forth.

An armored kilobon emerged, leading a fresh wave of goblins that howled as they charged. Their snarling faces twisted in anticipation as they began to encircle Henry and the defenders.

Henry threw a rock directly at the kilobon’s face. It struck—but with a clang against metal, not flesh. The kilobon had raised its blade and batted it aside with ease, continuing its march, undeterred. Its presence emboldened the goblins.

Henry gritted his teeth, planted his feet, and readied his spear. He knew he couldn’t stop all of them.

Then, like a comet from the sky, Marie landed, her fist crashed against the kilobon’s head, denting its helmet with a resounding boom. The beast stumbled backward, dazed.

Before the goblins could regroup, a wave of cavalry split their ranks from behind—General Rowen and the Warrior’s Guild had arrived. With sweeping strikes and bellowing cries, they carved a path through the monsters.

Behind Deni’s Gates, Tayo and Hiro danced with death.

Their movements were fluid, and in sync. Every time Gotar’s massive blade arced through the air, sending gales of slicing wind, Hiro would fire—forcing him to block—then Tayo would dart in close with the professor’s sword, landing shallow cuts across Gotar’s armor.

They were faster. Barely. But it was enough.

Until Gotar stopped moving.

Breathing heavily, blood staining his fur and Hiro’s arrow embedded in his shoulder, Gotar stood still. His eyes glowed.

Then, he lifted into the air—levitating on the currents of his own wind. He reached into a pouch at his waist and retrieved a jagged, glowing shard—fiery red, pulsing with ancient heat. The one Yugen had given him.

He held it to his chest.

“Shard of the Fire Fundamental, grant me your immeasurable power.”

The shard embedded itself into his chest. Fiery veins radiated from it, spreading like magma beneath his skin. The very air thickened with magic power as a surge of raw aura erupted from him. Flames burst to life, wreathing around his form, but not consuming him.

Hiro loosened another arrow.

It vanished in the flames before it ever touched him.

The fire settled, controlled now under Gotar’s control, waiting.

Then Gotar vanished.

He reappeared a split-second later in front of Hiro, a blur of speed. Fire exploded from his outstretched hand. The blast engulfed her, sending her flying through the air and crashing into a building inside the town.

Tayo shouted, but he barely had time to raise his sword. Gotar’s fist met him in mid-air, and though he blocked it, the force hurled him high into the sky.

Gotar gave chase.

Using fire as propulsion, Gotar soared after him, striking again and again in the air like a predator tormenting its prey. Tayo twisted, struggled—but Gotar gave him no chance to regain his balance.

And then—boom!

A final explosive kick landed with brutal force. Tayo screamed as the blast launched him across the horizon. His fingers slipped—the sword tumbled from his grip.

He disappeared into the distance.

Gotar descended slowly, fire still burning in coils around him. He landed like a conqueror and walked over to the fallen sword. The professor’s blade.

He picked it up.

A guttural, satisfied laugh erupted from his throat. Deep. Triumphant.

He had what he came for. 

***

Hiro staggered through a collapsed wall, coughing a bit of blood. Her cloak was charred—she ripped it off and tossed it aside. She was injured but could still move. She checked her pouch. The vial—Daro’s gift—had a crack, but was still intact.

Thank God.

In the square, the battle raged on.

Gamers fought like cornered animals. Marie, Henry, Jim, and Rowen stood in the heart of it, cutting through goblins and kilobons, protecting what remained of the tourists. But they were being surrounded—inch by inch.

Then Rowen surged forward, leapt into the air, and slammed his fists into the ground with thunderous force.

“Earth Magic: Sinking Sand!”

The earth cracked and rippled. Kilobons and goblins alike began to sink, caught in the liquifying terrain beneath them. Their snarls turned to screams.

But one of them—a commanding kilobon—roared in its guttural tongue.

“Earth Magic: Solid Ground!”

The trembling ceased. The sinking stopped. Solid ground returned beneath their feet.

They began to charge again.

And then a voice cut through the air.

“Retreat.”

Everyone froze.

Floating above the battlefield was Gotar. He held the professor’s sword in one hand.

His other hand raised.

“Shooting Star.”

Five blazing orbs materialized around him, whirling in a perfect circle. Then they began to fall—fast.

Fire rained from the heavens.

Explosions rocked the square.

Gamers fled, scattered. Screams filled the air. The tourists panicked as they see their comrades get lit up with fire..

Henry sprinted into the fray, arms glowing, trying desperately to control and redirect the flames. He even managed to catch one and hurl it into the sky, but another singed his shoulder. He screamed, but kept going, changing the trajectory of the fireballs.

Gotar sent more.

Henry began to overheat.

Rowen summoned shields of earth. Marie leapt from blast to blast, knocking down any enemies still among them. The trio of Rowen, Marie and Henry worked, shielding and guiding the tourists through the inferno.

But still—Gotar’s fire pressed only getting bigger as time passed.

Other gamers raised shields, weapons, whatever they could—to no avail.

A goblin crept up behind Hiro, axe raised, eyes glinting.

She was too slow.

Too tired.

Then—

Thunk!

An arrow buried itself in the back of the goblin’s head. It dropped at her feet.

Hiro looked up.

There, across the smoking rooftops, lit by the flames…

Tayo.

He was back.

And in his hand—another arrow, already drawn.