Chapter 80: The Siege of Rekka-City

The red light of Torchlight flickers and dies. The Miasma-torches are burning low, starved of the Hollow-God's power. Shadows lengthen in the streets. The silence of the evacuated city is heavier than the stone ceiling above us.

We stand at the main gate. It is a choke point. A narrow bridge of obsidian rock connects the city to the spiral path leading down into the Abyss. This is where we make our stand.

Kizawa stands at the front. His twin swords are drawn. He is a statue of focus. The blue fire in his eyes is dim but steady. He does not look like a boy anymore. He looks like a veteran of a hundred wars.

"They are coming," Kizawa says. His voice is calm.

I look into the darkness below. The Abyss is boiling. It is not steam. It is movement. Thousands of chitinous bodies scrape against the stone. The sound is like a dry river rushing upward.

"I see them," Erima says. She stands on a pile of rubble behind Kizawa. Her obsidian bow is drawn. Her quiver is full of scavenged arrows from the Grak-ta armory. "Stalkers. Hundreds of them. And Shriekers in the air."

"Good," Hachiro says. He cracks his knuckles. His green chi-splint glows in the gloom. "I was getting bored."

"You are terrified," Yogawa points out. The scholar is shivering, but he stands his ground. His hands glow with a faint, pale blue light. He has no grimoire, but he has his mind. "We are all terrified."

"Terror is fuel," I say. My golden flame flickers around my hands. It is not the roaring inferno it was in the Spire. It is a quiet, concentrated burn. "Use it."

The first wave hits.

It is a tide of black chitin and red eyes. Stalkers scramble up the bridge, their needle-limbs clattering on the stone. They hiss, a chorus of hate.

"Loose!" Erima shouts.

She fires. Her arrow takes the lead Stalker in the eye. It falls back, knocking three others off the bridge into the void.

Kizawa moves. He is a whirlwind of steel. He meets the charge head-on. His blades flash in the red light. Limbs are severed. Heads roll. He does not step back. He is the dam holding back the flood.

"Hachiro! Left flank!" Kizawa yells.

A group of Stalkers tries to climb the side of the bridge. Hachiro is there. He roars and slams his fist into the stone railing. The shockwave knocks the monsters loose. They fall screaming into the dark.

"I got them!" Hachiro yells. "Come on, you ugly bugs! Is that all you have?"

"Do not taunt them!" Yogawa screams. "You will draw the aggro!"

"That is the point, genius!" Hachiro retorts.

Above us, the air screams. Shriekers dive from the ceiling. They are aiming for Erima.

"Yogawa!" I shout.

"I see them!" Yogawa yells. He claps his hands together. "Wall of Air!"

A pulse of wind explodes outward from him. It slams into the diving Shriekers, disrupting their flight. They tumble through the air, crashing into the buildings behind us.

I step forward. I am not just a commander. I am the Weapon.

I target the center of the bridge. The mass of Stalkers is thickest there.

"Burn," I whisper.

I thrust my hand forward. A lance of golden fire erupts from my palm. It hits the center of the horde. The Stalkers screech as the holy fire consumes them. Their armor melts. Their bodies turn to ash.

For a moment, the bridge is clear.

Then more come.

They climb over the burning bodies of their kin. They do not stop. They do not fear. They are driven by the hunger of the King.

"There are too many," Kizawa pants. He wipes black blood from his face. "We cannot hold this forever."

"We do not need forever," I say. "We just need time. The Grak-ta need to reach the upper tunnels."

"How much time?" Erima asks. She fires three arrows in rapid succession. Three Stalkers fall.

"Until the bridge breaks," I say.

They look at me.

"We are going to blow the bridge?" Hachiro asks. "With us on it?"

"No," I say. "We hold them here. When the refugees are safe, we retreat to the city gate. Then we blow the bridge."

"A tactical withdrawal," Erima says. She nods. "I like it."

"I hate it," Yogawa says. "But I have no better ideas."

The second wave hits. It is harder. Larger Hunters join the fray. Armored beasts that look like beetles the size of tanks. They smash into Kizawa's defense.

He slides back a foot. His boots grind against the stone.

"Push back!" he roars.

Hachiro joins him. They stand shoulder to shoulder. Blade and Fist. They hold the line against the tide.

I stand behind them. I am the artillery. I fire blasts of golden flame over their heads, incinerating the flyers and the climbers.

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes. The pile of dead Hunters blocks the bridge, creating a rampart of corpses.

"They are pulling back," Kizawa says. He leans on his swords, his chest heaving.

"They are regrouping," Erima says. She scans the darkness. "Something big is coming."

The Abyss trembles.

A massive, dark shape rises from the depths. It is not the Spinner King. It is too small for that. But it is huge.

It is a construct of shadow and bone. A siege engine made of monster parts.

"What is that?" Hachiro asks.

"A battering ram," I say. "Living artillery."

The beast opens its maw. A ball of concentrated dark energy forms in its throat.

"Move!" I scream.

We dive to the sides.

The blast hits the gate behind us. The stone explodes. The archway collapses, sealing the entrance to the city.

We are cut off.

We are on the bridge. The city is behind a wall of rubble. The enemy is in front of us.

"Well," Hachiro says, dusting himself off. "That complicates things."

"We are on the wrong side of the wall," Yogawa whimpers.

"No," Kizawa says. He stands up. He points his swords at the beast. "We are exactly where we need to be."

"We cannot retreat," Erima says. "The path is blocked."

"Then we go forward," I say.

I look at the beast. I look at the army of Hunters.

"We push them off," I say. "We clear the bridge. Then we find another way up."

"You are insane," Yogawa says. "Completely insane."

"We are the rear guard," I remind him. "We hold the line."

I ignite my flame. It burns brighter than before. It feeds on my resolve.

"For Torchlight," I say.

"For the refugees," Kizawa says.

"For the fun of it," Hachiro says, grinning.

We charge.