Even the mist knew better than to stay.
It shredded.
And through the gaping wound stepped Gorak.
If I thought he was bad before, this was worse. Way worse. Twice the size. Twice the teeth. Covered in black crystal growths that glowed with a sick, pulsing red.
The ground cracked under every step. His breath boiled puddles into steam.
System pinged, way too casual for the horror unfolding.
[Apex Entity: Alpha Gorak (Corrupted)]
[Threat Level: Catastrophic]
[Recommended Action: Survival Probability: 11%]
Oh.
Cool.
11%.
Less than a bad coin flip.
Less than a prayer.
Better odds than I thought, honestly.
Great.
The trenches? The traps? The carefully layered defenses?
Gorak plowed through them like a drunk mammoth, swinging his crystal-crusted arms through entire sections of barricade.
Moss golems got flattened.
Spike pits barely slowed him.
Ashring squads scattered, reforming on instinct.
Splitjaw barked orders, hoarse and furious, rallying spear lines.
Embergleam's fire teams tried to torch his flanks, but the flames barely touched his hide.
Seedfoot's vines snapped up the smaller monsters still spilling from the mist, tripping, tangling, trying to give us breathing room.
Even the civilians fought.
The baker from East Hollow hurled a mossbomb straight into a ratbeast's mouth.
A runner barely half my size sprinted past with bloodied bandages and a dagger in his teeth.
Gorak roared.
The air warped under the sound. My claws skidded across the ground like the world itself was tilting.
More monsters swarmed around him, emboldened by the noise.
System pinged.
[Morale Shift Detected: Enemy Forces Empowered]
Perfect.
Really stacking the odds today, huh?
I spotted Hoarder through the chaos.
Dragging a wounded runner across the mud, snarling at two flame squads to cover him. Blood ran down his leg from a deep gash, but he didn't slow.
Didn't stop.
Not once.
I spun back toward Splitjaw.
"Dead zone!" I yelled, voice cracking. "Pull him in! Artist trigger ready! Move!"
Splitjaw flashed a grin, pure teeth and madness, and barked the fallback order.
Squads peeled back, like layers of a stubborn onion.
Embergleam lobbed firebombs along the retreat lines, forcing monsters to follow set paths.
Scribble scribbled furious emergency runes into the dirt as he ran, setting mini-barriers to buy seconds.
And me?
Well.
Some people are born to greatness.
Some are born to sprint away from angry monsters screaming like idiots...
Guess who was on bait duty again.
I snatched a half-broken spear from the wreckage and bolted straight for Gorak.
Not smart.
Not brave.
Just necessary.
Deep breath.
"HEY, CHUNKY!" I howled, waving my arms like a lunatic. "YOUR FACE LOOKS LIKE A MOSS GOLEM'S BUTT AND YOUR MOMMA WAS A SQUASH!"
I have no idea what I'm saying.
I'm just weaponizing every bad decision I've ever made into pure insult energy.
Splitjaw coughed a laugh somewhere behind me.
Gorak's too-bright, too-many eyes snapped straight onto me.
He growled.
He moved.
Running.
Running so fast I swear my legs detached from my brain.
Jumping over broken carts.
Skidding under torn fences.
Vaulting over panicking squads.
Gorak thundered behind me, smashing through everything I left in my wake.
Pit traps collapsed.
Mossbombs went off like angry fireworks.
I almost tripped twice, once over a dead monster and once over my own terrified tail.
Artist popped up near the dead zone's edge, yanking on a vine trigger.
He looked at me, wild-eyed.
"NOW?!"
"NOT YET!" I screeched, feet barely touching the ground.
Gorak lumbered closer.
Close enough to smell burning crystal and rage.
Closer.
Closer.
"NOW!" I roared, diving for the ground.
Artist yanked.
The dead zone exploded.
Mossbombs tore the air apart in a chain of thunderous blasts.
Runic traps activated in brilliant flashes, sending shockwaves through the ground.
Gorak stumbled, roaring, as the earth cracked under him.
Pit traps yawned open, reinforced vines snapping around his legs.
For the first time all day, he stopped moving forward.
System pinged:
[Environmental Hazard: Effective]
[Boss Mobility: Severely Impaired]
[Core Exposed: 17%]
Seventeen percent.
Seventeen percent wasn't good enough.
Not even close.
Seventeen percent is how much you tip bad service, not how much you bet your life on.
I hauled myself upright, spitting dirt.
Ashring squads were already repositioning, setting spears and slings and magic at the ready.
But I knew.
We all knew.
We had one chance to break him now.
Or he would break us.
And somewhere, through the smoke and ash, Hoarder locked eyes with me.
He wasn't fast.
He wasn't flashy.
But he was still moving.
Still fighting.
Still here.
I grinned — a cracked, desperate thing.
"You with me?" I croaked.
He bared his teeth.
"Always."
The dead zone boiled with smoke and broken earth.
Gorak thrashed inside it, black crystal flaring red as he struggled to haul himself free.
Not dead.
But hurt.
Hurting.
System pinged.
[Boss Health: 58%]
[Core Exposure: 32%]
[Recommended Action: Strike Now]
Right.
Because obviously, the problem here was I hadn't hit him enough.
"Come on!" I shouted, waving Hoarder forward.
He limped after me without hesitation, broken spear still clutched in one claw.
Around us, Ashring squads scrambled — reinforcing fallback barriers, pulling wounded clear, hurling rocks and insults at the surviving monsters.
But the center?
The core?
It was just us.
Just a battered girl, a stubborn hoarder, and one really bad idea.
We sprinted straight into the pit.
The air tasted like burnt moss and panic.
The ground cracked underfoot, littered with shattered crystal and churned mud.
Gorak tried to turn, but the vines and rune-traps tangled his legs, dragging at every movement.
Still dangerous.
Still massive.
Still furious.
"Left!" I barked.
Hoarder veered without question.
We dodged a wild backhand swing that turned an entire palisade into kindling.
I scrambled up a broken moss golem carcass, using the height to jump onto Gorak's cracked flank.
The crystal was hot enough to burn.
The air buzzed with magic and rage.
Didn't matter.
Not anymore.
Spear in hand, I slammed the tip into a glowing fracture line.
Deep.
Twist.
Shove.
Hoarder was right behind me, jamming his broken weapon into another crack.
Together, we worked like a pair of angry termites, carving into the monster's armor.
System pinged.
[Structural Integrity: Critical]
[Core Destabilization: 87%]
Gorak howled.
Not a victory roar.
A wounded, ragged sound.
His massive body heaved, throwing us both clear.
I hit the ground hard enough to see stars.
Hoarder landed nearby, groaning, but pushing himself up.
Because none of us knew how to stay down anymore.
Across the ruins, Ashring was watching.
Dozens of bloodied, bruised kobolds.
Some leaning on each other.
Some still clutching spears.
Some just breathing, blinking through the dust and disbelief.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Gorak staggered.
One massive hand clawed at the ruined ground.
He looked at Ashring.
At the broken barricades.
At the battered survivors.
And he turned.
System pinged:
[Boss Status: Retreat Initiated]
[Threat Temporarily Neutralized]
Gorak limped back into the mist.
Not charging.
Not roaring.
Dragging himself away, leaking crystalized blood and fury.
A beaten, battered apex monster slinking into the dark.
For a long moment, no one moved.
No one breathed.
Then, slowly, a sound started.
Not a cheer.
Not a roar.
A ragged, broken laugh.
Splitjaw, leaning against a shattered post, laughing until he coughed blood.
Embergleam sank to her knees, still clutching burning embers between her claws.
Artist punched the air weakly, collapsing backward into the dirt.
Bitterstack just sat down in the mud and started swearing so fluently I think the ground flinched.
System chimed, softer now.
[Settlement Defense: Successful]
[Settlement Advancement: Sovereign Recognition Pending]
[Special Title Earned: "The One Who Stood"]
I hauled myself upright.
Ashring wasn't pretty.
Ashring wasn't whole.
But Ashring was still here.
Hoarder stumbled up beside me, bleeding, grinning through cracked fangs.
I leaned my weight against him without asking.
He didn't flinch.
He just stood there, solid and stubborn as a stone pillar.
We didn't say anything.
Didn't have to.
Ashring survived.
Not because we were stronger.
Not because we were smarter.
But because when the world tried to smash us flat, we smashed it right back.