The Shaman's chant deepened, crawling through the air like oil over flame.
The green light from his staff pulsed against the walls, bright enough to turn every drop of blood on the floor into glassy emerald.
Then Marcus roared.
"Now! Kill the bastard!"
His voice carried like thunder through the food court. His men surged forward beside him—raw muscle and fury, blades flashing in the light.
The goblins shrieked in answer, their war cry twisting the air into chaos.
I raised my hand. "Move!"
My team broke cover. Forty bodies moved as one, weapons low, eyes locked on the altar. The smell of blood and smoke hit hard—thick enough to taste.
Marcus tore through the first line of goblins, cutting them down like grass, but more poured in behind. Nadia's people scattered to the sides, trying to flank, but I didn't see her. She was gone.
Typical.
The Shaman slammed his staff down. The ground split in glowing veins, spilling mana like fire through cracks in the tiles. Every goblin caught in the glow straightened, their eyes blazing bright green.
The weaker ones grew wild. The strong ones grew monstrous.
"Buffs!" I shouted. "He's empowering them—keep your distance!"
Marcus didn't hear me. He pushed forward, roaring, but the goblins slammed into his line like a wall of teeth. He cut two down before three more climbed over their corpses.
"Where the hell is Nadia?" he barked, slamming his blade through a hobgoblin's neck. No answer.
The battlefield erupted.
Nicole was beside me, gunfire flashing between sword strikes—her blade cutting clean, her shots cracking through skulls when they closed in too tight.
Liam barreled through two goblins at once, blood streaking down his arm, grin sharp and feral.
Giselle and Hirose fought back-to-back—precision and grace—moving like gears in the same machine.
Laney's rifle barked from behind a broken kiosk, covering Sloan and Briar as they cleaved through the front ranks.
Josh and Liz moved in sync, blades sweeping, covering each other's blind spots.
Jesse and Devan were holding the right flank, every blow measured, methodical.
Karen and Amber stayed closer to Sol, who was already drawing his bowstring.
"Sol!" I called.
He didn't answer.
He whispered, "Quick Step."
Black mana trailed his form as he vanished and reappeared ten feet closer to the altar, bow already drawn. The Shaman was still chanting, unbothered, that grotesque grin carved into his face.
Sol loosed.
The arrow screamed through the air—
—and hit the barrier like it struck stone.
The sound cracked, sharp and hollow. The Shaman turned toward him, lips curling into something almost human. A smile.
"Sol, move!" I yelled.
I ran, feet hammering against slick tile. A hobgoblin lunged at me, axe swinging low. I met it with Silent Fang, caught the blow, twisted under, and drove my blade into its ribs.
The Shaman's staff flared—too bright to look at—then fired a bolt of green light.
"Down!"
Sol dove, the spell searing past his shoulder and exploding against the wall, showering glass and concrete dust over him. He rolled to his knees, panting but alive.
"Viktor!" I shouted.
"On it!"
He was already moving—a shadow of motion cutting through the chaos. He weaved between goblins like smoke, twin axes glinting red.
The Shaman's focus broke for an instant. Viktor's strike came down heavy and fast—
—but the bastard twisted aside at the last second, his robes brushing Viktor's arm as the axe buried itself in the stone altar.
The Shaman hissed, staff spinning as he sidestepped the second swing and slammed the butt of it into Viktor's chest.
The impact made him stagger back—but before I could move, something massive barreled out of the shadows.
A hobgoblin. Bigger than the others. Broader shoulders, scars wrapping around its face like rope burns. Its eyes locked on Viktor with pure animal hatred.
"Vik!" I shouted, but it was already on him.
The thing swung a jagged cleaver big enough to split bone. Viktor caught it with both axes, metal shrieking as sparks flew. The hobgoblin's strength forced him to his knees.
He gritted his teeth, eyes wild. "You picked the wrong bastard."
He shoved upward, twisting hard, breaking the deadlock. One axe bit into the monster's arm, the other slammed into its knee. The creature howled, backhanding him across the face so hard I felt it from where I stood.
Viktor hit the ground, rolled, and came up swinging.
They circled each other—steel and muscle, both bleeding, neither slowing.
The hobgoblin charged, swinging low. Viktor leapt aside, spinning his axes in a blur. One blade caught the creature's ribs, the other split its thigh.
Blood splattered across the floor. The beast didn't fall. It laughed—a deep, guttural growl that shook dust from the ceiling—and came again, faster.
Viktor barely ducked in time. The cleaver carved through a support beam instead, snapping it clean.
He used the opening, sliding in close, driving both axes up under its jaw. The creature roared, its claws digging into his shoulder, trying to crush him in its grip.
For a second, they were locked there—two monsters in human and goblin skin.
Viktor snarled, ripped one axe free, and jammed it into the hobgoblin's gut.
The thing screamed and slammed its head forward, skull cracking against Viktor's nose. Blood poured. He stumbled but didn't stop.
He twisted the remaining axe hard, tearing through flesh, then drove a boot into the creature's chest to break free.
The hobgoblin collapsed to one knee, clutching its stomach.
Viktor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spat blood, and lifted his weapon again. "You first."
The axe came down like judgment.
The hobgoblin's head rolled, thudding once before coming to rest at Viktor's boots.
He staggered, panting, one knee hitting the floor. His shoulder was bleeding badly, armor cracked, but he was alive. Barely.
The Shaman's grin widened. He hissed a word and brought the staff down again.
Light spilled out—green and molten. The goblins' wounds sealed before my eyes, flesh knitting together. The hobgoblins Marcus had crippled stood back up, roaring.
"He's healing them!" Nicole shouted over the din.
"Liz, now!" I barked.
Liz slammed her palm to the ground, blue light bursting outward in a ripple that hit everyone nearby.
Cuts closed. Bruises faded. The exhausted gasped as warmth filled their limbs.
For one breath, we were back on our feet.
Then the Shaman turned his gaze to her.
He lifted his staff and pointed. Goblins shrieked and broke formation, rushing her side in a frenzied wave.
"Liz!" Jesse yelled, already moving, but there were too many.
Liz tried to cast again. The glow flared—and died as a goblin slammed into her. She hit the floor hard, rolling as three more lunged.
Jesse and Devan reached her in time, cutting them down, but I could see the panic in their eyes. We were losing ground.
The Shaman's smile widened. He hissed a word I didn't recognize. The mana in the air pulsed again, thicker, faster—feeding the monsters.
Goblins flooded the food court from every corridor.
More. Always more.
Logan and Mitch fought near the left flank, holding the breach, but even they were getting driven back.
Nicole shouted something—lost under the sound of the Shaman's chant. Liam was bleeding. Laney's rifle jammed. Giselle was out of bullets and down to her knife.
We were surrounded.
"Focus on the Shaman!" I screamed. "He's the key—everything dies when he does!"
The order cracked through the chaos like thunder. Every fighter still standing turned toward the altar.
Sol moved first.
He darted between bodies, bow already drawn, his boots sliding on blood-slick tile. Quick Step flared again—his body a blur of shadows and black threads that whipped in his wake. He fired in motion, every shot cutting down goblins trying to shield the Shaman.
Each impact made the barrier ripple. Not break—but weaken.
"Keep it up, kid!" Viktor shouted over the din, swinging one of his axes through a hobgoblin's leg. "You're cracking it!"
The Shaman hissed and turned his staff toward Sol. Its tip flared, gathering light in a violent pulse.
"SOL!" I shouted, sprinting, but he was already moving—Quick Step snapping again, vanishing just before the beam exploded where he'd stood. The blast tore a hole clean through a support pillar, raining stone and fire.
He hit the ground rolling, gasping but alive. Still, he didn't stop. He drew another arrow, mana coiling faintly along the shaft, and loosed it through a line of advancing goblins. It went straight through three skulls before vanishing in green sparks.
The kid was holding his own—but for how long?
Liam was shouting, Giselle bleeding, Hirose staggering from a hit that would've split someone else in two.
Nicole cut a goblin clean in half beside me. Laney's rifle cracked again, the muzzle flash lighting her face.
The world narrowed to the altar and the monster behind it. My heartbeat synced with the rhythm of the chant. Every step felt heavier, slower.
I parried a blade, kicked a goblin aside, drove Silent Fang through another. My lungs burned.
"Viktor!" I yelled again.
He was limping, bloodied, his axes coated red—but standing.
The rest of the team was closing in, forming a circle around the Shaman's altar as the remaining goblins screamed and surged forward in desperation.
We were close.
So close.
But the Shaman's eyes were still bright. Too bright.
He raised his staff high—and I felt the mana before I saw it.
Healing light.
Every goblin that had fallen in the last minute began to move again, their bodies mending, wounds sealing, eyes reigniting with green fire. The air filled with wet sounds of flesh stitching and bones cracking back into place.
"Oh, come on," Viktor groaned. "That's cheating."
"Liz!" I shouted. "Counter it!"
She dropped to one knee and slammed her palm into the ground.
Restoration Pulse.
A wave of blue light radiated out, washing over our wounded. Nicole gasped as the cut across her side sealed; Sloan staggered upright, clutching his chest where moments ago a goblin blade had been buried.
But the Shaman saw her.
His grin widened, and he pointed the staff.
A new tide of goblins—smaller, faster, screaming—turned from the front line and sprinted toward Liz.
"Protect her!" Jesse yelled, moving first, Devan and Josh right behind.
The swarm hit like a wall. Jesse swung wide, cutting one down, but another leapt onto Liz's back. She screamed, slamming her elbow into its face. Devan tore it off her and crushed its skull with a downward strike, but more kept coming.
They were everywhere.
"Hold the line!" I roared, charging forward. "He's almost out of mana—he has to be!"
But even as I said it, the Shaman's staff flared brighter. His laughter echoed across the court—low, mocking, endless.
Then he slammed the staff into the ground again.
The floor cracked beneath me—light spilling upward, the air itself warping with heat.
I swung Silent Fang, slicing through the closest goblin, pushing toward him with everything I had.
The Shaman turned his gaze toward me.
And brought the staff down.
The blast hit like a shockwave.
The world went white.
When I landed, Silent Fang was in two pieces.
The sound of its break cut through the noise louder than any scream.
I stared at the shattered blade in my hand—then up at the glowing altar and the grinning monster behind it.
The glow from the altar painted the faces of my team in shades of exhaustion and fear — the kind of silence that meant no one knew if we could still win.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt it hit like a knife between the ribs.
Not fear. Not anger.
Despair.