> LOCATION: KING'S HALLWAY
The deeper they went, the quieter it got.
The drums.
The war cries .
The clash of steel.
All faded away.
Just the sound of boots on ancient stone, and the distant hum of power that shouldn't be.
He led from the front, sword drawn.
Futaba walked beside him, staff ready.
Haruki slung Celeste lazily over one shoulder, half-smiling like they weren't marching toward death.
Behind them, the archer and tank whispered between glances. The paladin and necromancer brought up the middle. And at the very back – silent, composed, almost floating – was The Widow.
"Oh my god, that's The Widow," the archer hissed to the tank. "I heard she once soloed a full guild in a tournament. Blinked through their healer like a glitch."
"She can hear you," Futaba said flatly.
"I can," The Widow added, not even batting an eye.
The archer and tank suddenly walked faster.
Also trailing at the back, just trying to keep up, was the noob mage – eyes wide, staff in hand, trying to make conversation with The Widow through a string of smiley face emojis and thumbs ups.
Ren saw it and almost laughed.
"Anyone else feel like we're walking into a horror movie? Just me?" Haruki asked, turning to the group.
"Please, like you'd survive one." Futaba muttered.
A chuckle from the back – the necromancer.
"I totally would. First scene, baby. Check out the basement. Full monologue. Boom – audience favourite."
"You'd die during the opening credits," Futaba said.
"Worth it."
Ren cracked a smile. Even with the dread creeping in, the squad felt right.
Team? Elite.
Squad energy? Solid.
But that hum? That pressure in the dark?
It was only getting stronger.
Hey, Soren.
"Yes."
What are your thoughts on this?
"I have seen many men venture out to defeat the Orc King and never return."
Awesome.
"That said: you are not 'many men.'"
Really? Awe, thanks–
"You were trained by me, so obviously you would not be substandard."
And… there he goes again.
The tunnel yawned open into a cavern. A place that shouldn't exist – walls pulsating like flesh, lined with runes older than any language. Red glyphs floated in the air like dying embers.
> LOCATION: THE THRONE ROOM
At the center: a throne of obsidian and bone.
And upon it – the Orc King.
Seven feet tall. No armour – robes of void-black silk wrapped in golden script. His sceptre curled like a serpent, thrumming with purple flame. His eyes opened.
Void.
> THE ORC KING
Haruki whispered, "Why are they always taller than me…"
Ren. The crown. It is rumoured to be enchanted. Avert your gaze from it"
Thanks, Soren.
"Guys! Don't look at the crown! It's enchanted!"
Too late. The paladin froze in place. Disintegrated.
The King raised one hand – the room shattered.
Walls twisted. The floor buckled. The world screamed.
Illusions hit like truth. Light distorted into shadow. Crystal lances erupted from every surface. A shriek fractured through three dimensions.
"Split!" Ren shouted.
They tried. Everything was wrong. Left was right. Up was down. The Widow zipped passed, slicing what she thought was the Orc King, but turned out to be a spectral projection. She vanished again into the veil.
Ren turned, caught an image of himself swinging at – himself. Illusion.
No. Not this time.
He ducked. Rolled. The King's sceptre missed him by mere inches. He looked up. The sceptre. An amethyst gem – it seemed to be sucking in all the energy.
The gem is the source.
He called out. ".ecruos eht si meg eht s'yuG"
It came out all wrong.
"What?" Haruki shouted back.
"GⱮ..ιʂ̷...$σ͘𝓾𝕣͜c̛t͜ʜ͘ɇ͢."
"What?"
"The gem! It's the source." Ren's voice finally broke through.
Haruki's eyes snapped to the sceptre. "Got it."
The Widow reappeared from a veil, blades drawn. "I can reach it, but I'll need an opening."
Ren nodded. "We'll make you one. Everyone! Focus your fire, lock his movement!"
Futaba was already chanting, summoning a funnel of wind that whipped toward the Orc King's legs, sending spiralling debris flying into the air.
Haruki cast a Stone Edge, which thundered across the cavern, seemingly shattering in the middle of nowhere – a barrier.
The tank slammed his shield into the ground. "Fortify!" A shockwave of energy surged forward, pinning the King's lower half for a second – just long enough.
"Covering fire!" the archer called, unleashing a barrage of luminous gold arrows towards the King's upper body – one clipping the gem. A crack. Small but real.
The necromancer unleashed a swarm of bone serpents that coiled around the King's feet, tangling like barbed wire.
The noob mage pointed his staff at the sceptre, sent a red-faced angry emoji, and unleashed a completely unexpected raging inferno, engulfing the Orc King in a flurry of fire, knocking the sceptre slightly askew.
The widow blinked.
No sound. No movement. Just gone – then behind him. Her blades flashed once, twice – carving X-shapes into the air. With a sharp exhale, she slammed both daggers directly into the amethyst gem.
CRACK–
The gem fractured once. Then–
BOOM!
Light exploded outward. A pressure wave slammed everyone into the walls. The gem fragmented into pieces. The sceptre disintegrated into black ash. And the illusions dropped like shattered glass.
The throne room stopped shifting. The runes on the wall faded.
And the Orc King staggered, for the first time, truly vulnerable.
"NOW!" Ren shouted.
The squad surged.
Haruki slammed a Stone Edge straight into the King's ribs – this time it connected. Futaba followed with a whip of wind that coiled up the staff and launched like a comet. The archer's barrage hit true. The necromancer summoned spectral wolves that tore into the King's legs. The noob mage grinned wide, sent a thumbs up, and dropped a genuinely massive meteor.
The cavern shook. The Orc King reeled.
"We've got him!" the tank called.
The Widow didn't respond. She was already behind him again, blades spinning in a cyclone of speed.
They pressed forward. Coordinated. Unstoppable.
They had him.
They actually had him.
Then the King roared.
The shattered gem reformed in his hand. Not whole – but enough. He slammed his fist into the floor. From the throne erupted a pulse – not illusion this time, but raw, physical force.
The archer was first to go, lifted off the ground and slammed into a wall so hard her body made a sickening crunch as she connected with it.
"No–!" the tank shouted, moving to shield–
Too late.
A wave of black spikes erupted beneath him. Skewering him mid-sprint, helmet cracking open as he was flung backwards like a ragdoll.
The Widow dashed for the King again – only for the floor to vanish beneath her. A writhing pit of chains swallowed her whole.
"No!" Ren shouted, rushing forward – but the necromancer blocked him, hands glowing with purple flame.
"Go!" he yelled. "I'll hold him–"
A streak of dark light punched straight through his chest. He blinked. Dropped.
Futaba cast an earth wall hold the King back, grabbing a potion in hand while chanting another spell–
The wall shattered.
The King was there in a blink. He didn't swing. He simply touched her forehead.
She dropped.
Haruki screamed, blood running down his forehead. "You bastard!"
He leapt in, Celeste drawn back–
But the King caught the hammer mid-swing. And it shattered.
Haruki's expression froze. His grip faltered.
The King punched once – silent, final – and Haruki crumpled.
Ren was alone. Everyone was down.
Futaba, collapsed under a fallen column. Haruki, unmoving, Celeste cracked beside him. The Widow, bleeding, blades shattered. Barely breathing.
Ren stood alone. Legs shaking. Sword heavy. Breathing ragged.
The Orc King loomed – towering, robed in smoke, crown glowing with fresh power. And Ren knew what came next.
This was it.
Ren reached for Steelthorn Lockdown. Felt it stir. It was there. Waiting.
He'd always tried before. Always for himself. When he was losing. When he needed power.
But it never worked.
Because that was never the point.
Steelthorn wasn't a weapon. It was a promise.
Not to win.
To protect.
He looked around. At Futaba, who always believed in logic but still followed him into chaos. Haruki, who never stopped fighting, never stopped smiling. At the noob mage, who was somehow still standing.
At all of them.
"You understand now, Ren?"
He chuckled.
I think I do.
> STEELTHORN LOCKDOWN: PREREQUISITES MET
"Yo. Noob mage! I need 10 seconds. Think you can buy me that?"
A resounding yellow thumbs-up.
He stood taller.
And plunged his blade into the ground.
10…
A hurling fireball erupted from the noob. Missing.
9…
The Orc King turned. Then the noob threw another. This one connecting. Barely.
8…
The King reeled back – more in offense than pain.
Come on, come on…
He appeared in front of the noob mage. Slamming his fist into him.
6…
Nothing. And the illusion disappeared.
5…
The noob mage stood on the opposite side of the cavern, laughing.
4…
He threw another fireball. It fizzled out mid-air. He didn't have much more left in him.
3…
The King flashed to the noob. Slamming his fist into his chest – this time connecting.
2…
The crunch made Ren grimace. The noob mage slumped.
1…
Looming over the noob mage, still silent, the Orc King raised his fist, about to finish him.
"Steelthorn Lockdown!"
From the earth, steel vines burst.
Not to kill. To shield.
They wrapped around the noob mage first, stopping the fist in its tracks. They wrapped around the fallen. Around Haruki. Around Futaba.
Around their broken bodies – a living wall of iron.
The King slashed.
The vines held.
He struck again – roared – cast flame, darkness, punch.
The vines held.
The King hissed, stepping back – a ripple of frustration breaking through that hollow stare.
Ren stepped forward, dragging his sword, each bootstep ringing like a war drum.
He wasn't fast. Wasn't flashy. But he was coming. And the vines moved with him.
"This isn't just about me anymore – you've made it personal."
He raised his sword.
"It's about them."
The King roared and lunged – arm pulling back for another strike.
Too slow.
Dozens of steel vines exploded from the earth, bursting like shrapnel from every crack and crevice. They launched toward the Orc King – slamming into him, pinning his limbs, crushing through robes, piercing flesh.
One vine tore through his shoulder. Another wrapped around his torso and pulled – dragging him from the throne and into the stone. Kneeling.
A third punched straight through his chest.
He staggered – gasping.
Ren moved in silence. Sword raised.
And with one, clean, final strike – he drove it through the Orc King's heart.
…
The UI pinged:
> THE ORC KING DEFEATED
The vines dissolved into silver dust.
The throne crumbled.
"Well done, Knight Commander."
***
The smell of scorched stone and iron lingered in the air. Black smoke filled his lungs – making every shallow breath that much harder.
"What… what have you done? What have we done?"
No answer.
Ren couldn't speak.
Couldn't move.
His legs buckled under the weight of it. Eyes fixed on his hands – slick with something too dark to be red. Too real. Too much.
It dripped down his knuckles. His wrists. Pooled at his feet.
Something lay in the puddle. Feathered. Stiff. Dead. Wings crooked, unnaturally snapped across.
The sword felt heavier. Or maybe that was him.
"Marlowe."
The voice didn't rise – just laced with a fear he had never heard from it before. That made it worse. So much worse.
Marlowe?
The name hung in the back of his throat.
He didn't know the name – but the voice did.