The pulse of blue light faded from Arlen's chest, leaving a faint tingling in his fingertips. For a heartbeat, the battlefield went strangely quiet — as if even the wind was holding its breath.
Then the Molten Grove Guardian turned.
Its molten eyes locked onto Arlen with a focus that felt almost intelligent. The heat rolling off its body intensified, warping the air around it. Cracks along its stone plates brightened from orange to blinding white.
Mira swore under her breath. "Arlen… you got its attention."
"Yeah," he said, gripping his ladle tighter. "I noticed."
The Guardian took a step toward him. The ground shuddered. Dust drifted from the granary roof. Villagers scrambled back, some dragging the wounded, others clutching improvised weapons that suddenly felt far too small.
The system whispered in Arlen's mind:
Command Pulse active. Enemy focus locked for 10 seconds.
Ten seconds.
That was all he'd bought them.
Arlen swallowed hard. "Okay. I just need to not die for ten seconds."
Mira stepped forward. "You're not doing that alone."
"No," Arlen said quickly. "If it hits you—"
"It'll hit you harder," she snapped. "So shut up and move."
She shoved him aside just as the Guardian's fist slammed down where he'd been standing. The impact sent a shockwave through the dirt, knocking Arlen off his feet. He rolled, coughing, ears ringing.
Mira raised her shield, bracing against the heat. The wooden rim began to smolder.
Arlen forced himself upright. "Mira! Don't—"
The Guardian swung again, this time with a sweeping arc. Mira ducked, but the force of the air alone sent her stumbling back.
Arlen's heart lurched. "Mira!"
"I'm fine!" she shouted, though her voice cracked slightly.
The system chimed:
Command Pulse duration: 6 seconds remaining.
Arlen's stomach twisted. "This was a terrible idea."
A Desperate Maneuver
The Guardian lifted its foot — a slab of molten stone the size of a wagon — and brought it down toward Arlen.
He dove aside, feeling the heat scorch the back of his neck. The ground where he'd been standing turned to glowing glass.
The system whispered again:
Health: 62%. Status: Singed.
Arlen groaned. "I hate this system."
He scrambled behind a broken cart, though he knew it wouldn't stop anything. The Guardian reached down, fingers digging into the earth, and ripped the cart apart like it was made of paper.
Arlen yelped and rolled away, dirt flying.
Mira charged in, slamming her shield into the Guardian's ankle. The blow didn't hurt it — but it shifted its stance just enough to miss Arlen by inches.
The system chimed:
Command Pulse duration: 2 seconds remaining.
Arlen's breath hitched. "Come on… come on…"
The Guardian raised both fists, molten cracks blazing like a forge ready to explode.
Mira's eyes widened. "Arlen, MOVE!"
Arlen didn't think — he sprinted, legs burning, lungs screaming. The Guardian's fists came down behind him with a thunderous crash, sending a wave of heat that nearly knocked him off his feet.
The system whispered:
Command Pulse ended. Enemy focus reset.
Arlen stumbled to a stop, panting. "Oh thank the—"
The Guardian turned.
Not toward him.
Toward the granary.
Arlen's blood ran cold. "No."
Mira followed his gaze. "Arlen… the villagers—"
"I know."
The Guardian took a step toward the granary, molten cracks brightening again.
Arlen's mind raced. He had no more taunts. No more pulses. No more anything.
But then — a flicker of blue light appeared in the corner of his vision.
A new system message:
Class Fragment Resonance: Conditions Met.
New Ability Available: Tactical Gambit (Unstable).
Effect: Temporarily amplifies a chosen ally's next action. Risk: Unpredictable backlash.
Arlen stared. "Unstable? What does that even mean?"
Mira grabbed his arm. "Arlen. Whatever it is — use it."
He hesitated for half a second.
Then he activated it.
A surge of blue energy burst from his hands and shot toward Mira, wrapping her in a shimmering aura. She gasped, eyes widening as the power settled into her muscles.
"What did you—" she began.
The Guardian roared and charged the granary.
Mira didn't wait for an explanation. She sprinted forward, shield raised, moving faster than she ever had before — almost too fast, like her body was trying to outrun itself.
Arlen's heart pounded.
The system whispered one more line:
Tactical Gambit active. Backlash pending.
Arlen swallowed.
"Oh… that can't be good."