Josh’s duel with the Vanguard Chief crossed from contest into survival.

  The kobold moved with brutal precision, every step measured, every breath controlled. It pressed him without pause, glaive sweeping in tight, efficient arcs meant to sap strength rather than end the fight quickly. Josh caught the blows on shield and blade, but each impact rattled through his bones. His arm screamed. His lungs burned. The stone floor scraped under his boots as he was driven back, inch by inch.

  The Chief feinted low.

  Josh shifted instinctively, shield dipping to intercept the expected sweep.

  Too late.

  The Vanguard Chief twisted its grip mid-motion, hands sliding with practiced ease. The glaive’s blade flashed upward instead, a blur of steel and runes.

  Pain detonated across Josh’s upper arm.

  The edge tore through mail, leather, and flesh in one savage cut. Blood sprayed across the stone in a hot arc. His shield slipped from numb fingers and clattered away. Josh staggered, vision tunnelling as his arm went weak, slick with red.

  “Josh!”

  The Chief did not gloat. It flowed forward, rotating the glaive smoothly, lining up the killing thrust with cold, professional certainty.

  Josh snarled through clenched teeth and refused to fall.

  As the blade came in, he lunged inside the reach instead of retreating. His sword crashed into the haft, knocking it wide by inches. The tip still carved across his side, ripping through cloth and skin, but not deep enough. Josh slammed his shield shoulder into the Chief’s chest and drove forward with everything he had left.

  Steel rang as he hacked, not aiming for finesse, but damage. His sword bit into the kobold’s thigh, crunching through armour plates and into muscle. The Chief hissed, balance faltering for the first time as dark blood spilled onto the floor.

  Josh followed it, roaring as he chopped again. The blade struck higher this time, tearing into the creature’s shoulder and shredding one of the glowing runes etched into its armour. The symbol flared violently, then shattered, sparks snapping through the air.

  The Vanguard Chief reeled back, snarling in fury now, not calculation.

  It retaliated with a savage backhand that sent Josh sprawling. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs, blood pooling beneath him. The world rang. Footsteps closed in.

  The glaive rose.

  “Duck!” Brett screamed.

  Josh dropped without thinking, rolling onto his side as heat washed over him.

  A fireball roared overhead and slammed into the Chief’s chest. The explosion shook the chamber, hurling the kobold backward in a storm of flame and debris. Armour blackened and cracked. Runes flared wildly, flickering and failing as smoke poured from the creature’s body.

  Josh dragged in a breath that tasted of ash and copper. He forced himself upright, sword shaking in his grip, blood dripping freely from his arm and side.

  “Nice timing,” he rasped.

  From across the chamber, Brett laughed shakily, hands still glowing faintly. “I am never doing that again.”

  Josh wiped blood from his eyes, staring at the smoking, wounded Vanguard Chief as it struggled to rise.

  “Good,” he muttered. “Because I am not done with it yet.”

  The Devastator roared, the sound echoing off the mined stone like a collapsing tunnel, as Bhel and Perberos fell into a brutal rhythm.

  Perberos never stopped moving. He slid across rubble, boots skidding for purchase as arrows snapped from his bow in rapid succession. Each shot was deliberate. One punched into the back of the Devastator’s knee, driving deep into the joint. Another cracked against its elbow, burying itself where armour plates overlapped. The creature staggered, forced to adjust its stance, every movement growing heavier.

  “Left leg’s slowing!” Perberos shouted.

  Bhel took the cue instantly. He barrelled in, axes flashing, hacking low with savage precision. One blade bit into the hamstring, tearing muscle and sinew. The Devastator bellowed and swung its maul in a wide, murderous arc.

  Bhel didn’t back off.

  The maul came down like a falling tower.

  Carcan thrust a hand forward, eyes blazing. A translucent barrier flared into existence just as the blow landed. The impact shattered the shield in an explosion of light, but it stole the force of the strike. Bhel was hurled sideways instead of crushed, skidding across the stone in a spray of dust and blood.

  “Move!” Carcan shouted.

  Bhel rolled, came up on one knee, and spat red. “Still standing!”

  Brett forced mana through clenched teeth. The air fought him every step, abrasive and hostile, but he dragged the power together anyway. Fire coiled around his hands and he hurled it into the gaps Perberos opened. Flames slammed into exposed flesh, cooking muscle and blackening bone. The Devastator howled, thrashing blindly as smoke poured from its wounds.

  Perberos didn’t let up.

  An arrow flew straight into the creature’s eye. The shaft punched through with a wet crack, the fletching vanishing as the Devastator reeled back, maul crashing uselessly against the floor.

  “That’s it!” Perberos barked.

  Bhel lunged with a roar, every muscle taut, boots pounding the stone as if he were a battering ram. He leapt, axes raised high, beard streaked with blood, and brought the firsts down with every ounce of strength he could summon.

  The blade bit deep into the Devastator’s skull, sinking with a sickening crunch, the haft rattling against Bhel’s trembling hands. The brute’s massive frame shuddered violently, limbs jerking like ropes under tension, before it staggered once, twice, and finally collapsed in a thunderous crash that shook the chamber, dust and pebbles skittering across the floor.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Bhel wrenched his axe free and stumbled back, chest heaving.

  The Vanguard Chief rose from the smoke like something dragged out of a forge.

  Flames clung to its armour in guttering patches, runes flickering weakly beneath cracked plates of stone and bone. Charred scales split as it straightened, chest heaving once before it locked eyes on Brett. Not in rage. In calculation.

  It charged.

  “Oh absolutely not!” Brett yelped, boots skidding as he scrambled backward, hands flailing for mana that refused to come cleanly.

  Josh didn’t think.

  His legs moved on instinct alone, pain screaming through every joint as he hurled himself between them.

  “Not him!” Josh roared. “Me!” activating Guardians Call, stunning the chieftain for a moment. He hit the Vanguard Chief shield-first. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs and sent both of them crashing to the stone. They rolled, armour scraping, claws raking, until Josh wrenched himself free and staggered upright to his knee.

  The Chief was faster.

  It surged to its feet and drove the glaive down in a killing thrust. Josh barely got his shield up. The blade punched through the battered wood with a splintering crack and slid into his hip.

  Josh screamed.

  The shield snapped, the lower third tearing free and clattering across the floor. The Chief twisted the glaive viciously, drawing a wet line through flesh and muscle as Josh staggered back, blood spilling down his leg and pooling on the stone.

  “Josh!” Carcan shouted.

  The Chief pressed immediately, merciless. A backhand slash carved sparks from Josh’s sword as he barely parried, the force rattling his teeth. Another strike slammed into his shoulder, numbing the arm, nearly tearing the blade from his grip.

  Josh stumbled. His breath came in ragged gasps. His shield arm was useless, hanging heavy and broken at his side.

  The Chief circled him, steps measured, glaive held low and ready. It was enjoying this.

  Josh growled and lunged anyway.

  Steel rang as their weapons met. Josh hacked, overcommitting, forcing the Chief to give ground for the first time. He followed with a shield-bash that was more body check than defence, smashing his weight into the kobold and driving it back a step.

  The Chief answered with a brutal knee to Josh’s wounded hip.

  White-hot pain exploded through him. He crashed to one knee, vision tunnelling as the glaive swept in for his head.

  Josh threw himself sideways. The blade shaved his helm, carving a deep gouge in the stone where his skull had been a heartbeat earlier.

  He came up swinging.

  His sword bit into the Chief’s thigh, tearing through cracked armour and drawing a hiss of pain. Black-red blood splattered the floor. The Chief snarled, eyes flashing, and retaliated with a spinning strike that clipped Josh across the ribs and sent him sprawling.

  Josh hit hard, breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled again as the glaive stabbed down, the tip punching into stone inches from his face.

  Carcan’s magic flared.

  A translucent shield snapped into place just as the Chief brought its weapon down again. The blow shattered the barrier in a burst of light, but it bought Josh the moment he needed. He surged up, teeth bared, and drove his sword straight into the crack Brett’s firebolt had opened in the Chief’s chest earlier. The blade sank deep.

  The Vanguard Chief let out a guttural roar, staggering backward, claws clawing at the deep gash, blood streaming down its chest. Josh wrenched his sword free, legs trembling under the strain, arm shaking from the effort. He swayed unsteadily, every breath sharp and ragged. His shield hung from his wrist strap, splintered and battered, offering little more than a reminder of the brutal blows it had already taken.

  Both of them were bleeding now, but both of them were still standing.

  The Chief reset its grip on the glaive, eyes burning with cold fury.

  Josh lifted his sword again, chest heaving, and took a step forward.

  “Come on,” he rasped. “Let’s finish this.”

  The Vanguard Chief lunged and Josh met it head-on.

  Steel crashed against stone-worked armour as the two slammed together again. Josh hacked and shoved, fighting with brute force now rather than technique, every movement fueled by pain and refusal. The Chief answered with ruthless precision, its glaive carving tight arcs that forced Josh to give ground inch by bloody inch.

  Perberos’ arrows hissed through the air, two striking home. One glanced off a shoulder plate. The other punched into the Chief’s side, drawing a sharp snarl. It barely slowed.

  Bhel charged in from the flank, axes whirling. He caught the glaive’s shaft with one blade, twisted, and chopped at the Chief’s knee. The kobold staggered, scales splitting under the blow, but retaliated with a savage backhand that clipped Bhel across the chest and sent him skidding through the dust.

  “Still breathing already!” Bhel barked, dragging himself upright.

  Brett hurled a jagged lance of fire that burst against the Chief’s back, charring armour and filling the chamber with the stench of burning hide. The creature roared and whirled, sweeping its glaive in a wide, brutal arc that forced everyone back.

  Josh stepped in anyway.

  The Chief feinted high.

  Josh raised his sword.

  The glaive shot low.

  The blade punched through Josh’s thigh and out the other side with a wet, final sound. His leg buckled instantly, nerves screaming as the weapon buried itself deep and locked him in place.

  Josh cried out and nearly dropped his sword.

  The Vanguard Chief leaned into the weapon, grinding the blade deeper, pinning Josh like an insect on a board. Its eyes met his, cold and triumphant.

  “Josh!” Carcan screamed.

  Brett felt it then. Mana finally surged, wild and dangerous. Heat tore through his chest as he drew it together, far more than he should have.

  “Get clear!” Brett shouted, voice cracking, emotion fuelling his spell. “Josh, Bhel, MOVE!"

  Bhel saw the fire gathering and didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Josh’s shoulder, tried to haul him free.

  The glaive didn’t budge.

  Josh gasped, blood spilling down his leg, vision blurring. There was no time. No strength left to retreat.

  “Bhel,” he rasped. “Get back.”

  “What?” Bhel shouted.

  Josh snarled and shoved him away with his free arm. “NOW!”

  Bhel stumbled backward, teeth clenched, retreating as Brett’s spell swelled into a roaring sphere of white-hot fire.

  The Chief tried to wrench its weapon free.

  Josh didn’t let it.

  With a roar torn from somewhere deep and raw, Josh drove himself forward along the embedded blade, forcing steel through torn flesh and agony alike. He slammed into the Chief, ramming his sword up into the cracked cavity in its chest, right where the runes had failed.

  The blade went in to the hilt.

  The Vanguard Chief shrieked, claws scrabbling at Josh’s armour, but he locked himself there, forehead pressed to its chest, holding it in place.

  “DO IT!” Josh bellowed.

  Carcan reacted on pure instinct. Light exploded from her hands as she cast, the spell snapping into place just as Brett released his fireball.

  A shimmering shield enveloped Josh just as the the world vanished in fire.

  The explosion swallowed the chamber in a roaring inferno. Heat slammed outward, flattening dust, rattling stone, turning breath to pain. The shield around Josh flickered violently, light tearing and reforming as flames poured over it.

  Everyone was thrown back or forced to shield their eyes.

  Smoke rolled low across the stone, thick and acrid, stinging the eyes. Bits of burning debris clattered to the floor, the last echoes of the blast fading into an uneasy hush.

  At the heart of the chamber lay two shapes.

  Josh was sprawled on his back, shield shattered beside him, armour blackened, his sword was still buried to the hilt in the Vanguard Chief’s chest. The edges of his cloak smouldered faintly, then went still. His chest did not rise.

  The Vanguard Chief lay several feet away from Josh, its massive frame twisted and burned, scales split and blistered. The runes etched into its armour were dark now, cracked and dead. One horn had snapped clean away. Its glaive lay discarded, the blade bent. Its eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Neither moved.