Wave One

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  4

  The countdown appeared without warning. Ten minutes. Nine. A translucent timer hovered over the courtyard, pale and indifferent, ticking down toward something everyone now understood would be worse than the last time. Panic did not explode this time. It spread. Students moved with purpose now, voices low, eyes sharp. Groups formed quickly, urgently. Two here, three over here. Hands grabbed sleeves, bargains made in whispers. A healer was pulled into one group, then another tried to steal them away. Arguments sparked and died just as fast when no one wanted to draw attention. Dorian stood with his back to the medical wing doors, Helena beside him.

  Evan paced, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a game that had stopped being one. Lena sat on a desk nearby, pale but upright, her newly grown arm wrapped in layers of bandage. Maria checked her wand twice, then again, her lips moving silently as if rehearsing something she was afraid to forget. Only two full parties stood ready. One of them was not Dorian’s. “Alright, listen up,” a loud voice called out. Calvin, My Jersey himself strode into the center of the courtyard like it was a field he’d played on a hundred times before. Broad shoulders. Confident posture. His lacrosse jacket was gone, replaced by heavy armor that looked like it had snapped into place the moment he chose his class. A shield hung from his arm. He smiled easily, the way someone does when they expect to be obeyed.

  “I’m Calvin,” he said. “Captain of the lacrosse team. I’m a Vanguard. That means I can take hits you can’t. We need coordination, and I’m used to leading.” He gestured behind him. His party stood tight and polished, already arranged like a formation. Two men, two women. A Striker cracking his knuckles. An Arcanist with her hands already glowing faintly. And two Sentinels standing close, wands held protectively at their sides. Five. “I’ll call targets,” Calvin continued.

  “Stick close to us and we can push back whatever comes out of the forest.” Dorian didn’t look at him. He was watching the trees. A murmur ran through the crowd. Someone spoke up, voice shaking but brave enough to ask. “Shouldn’t one of those healers split off?” the student said. “Other groups don’t have any.” Calvin turned slowly. He walked up to the student without raising his voice. Stopped close enough that their chests nearly touched. Then he punched him hard in the stomach. The sound was dull and wet. The student folded instantly, air rushing out of him in a choked gasp as he dropped to his knees, then onto his side. No one moved to help.

  Calvin looked down at him, expression flat. “They’re mine,” he said. “Get your own.” No System message appeared. No warning. The crowd recoiled, not from the violence, but from the understanding of what it meant. Dorian finally glanced at Calvin then. Calvin didn’t meet his eyes. That bothered Dorian more than the punch. He recognized the behavior. The entitlement. The way cruelty came so easily once it was allowed. He felt his jaw tighten as a memory surfaced unbidden, sharp and unwelcome. Some people didn’t need monsters to show them who they were. Helena leaned closer to him. “Did you see that?” “Yeah,” Dorian said quietly. “You think he got some kind of quest?”

  “Maybe,” Dorian replied. “Or maybe he didn’t need one.” The timer ticked down. Four minutes. Most of the other students stood in pairs now. A few trios. Faces pale. Weapons clutched too tightly. No one laughed. No one prayed out loud. Evan flexed his hands. “I don’t like him.” She said quietly. “You don’t have to,” Dorian said. “Just don’t stand near him.” Lena swallowed. “I can fight,” she said. “I practiced. Fire comes easy to me.”

  Dorian nodded. “Stay behind Evan. Don’t overcast.” Maria looked between them all. “I’ll do what I can. Just don’t expect miracles.” Her skill was weak is what she implied. “No one does,” Dorian said. One minute. The forest shifted. At first, it was subtle. Leaves rustled though there was no wind. Shadows deepened between the trees, pooling unnaturally, as if something large had stepped just out of sight. Then came the sound. Laughter. High and sharp, layered with screeches that set teeth on edge. It rolled out of the forest in waves, mocking and eager. Students backed away instinctively. Red shapes burst from the tree line.

  Goblins. Small, hunched, their skin the color of fresh wounds. They rode wolves like cavalry, leaning low over the animals’ necks, crude swords and axes raised high. Their eyes glowed yellow as they screeched and laughed, saliva flying from wide mouths full of jagged teeth. They didn’t rush. They circled. Then the ground trembled. A taller figure stepped out from between the trees, forcing branches aside with armored arms. Seven feet tall at least. Muscular. Disciplined. Light armor strapped across his chest and shoulders, worn but reinforced. In his hands, a massive broadsword scraped against the stone. A wolf’s head sat over his own like a helm, jaws frozen in a permanent snarl. The kobold chieftain roared. The goblins fell into formation.

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  Wolves lowered their heads. The charge began. Dorian reached up and pulled his hood over his head. The Alpha Wolf Hide settled around his shoulders. The shadows at his feet stirred. And he stepped forward to meet the second wave. The charge broke like a wave. Wolves thundered across the courtyard, claws scraping stone, goblins shrieking with laughter as they leaned low in their saddles. The sound was wrong, gleeful in a way that made Dorian’s skin crawl.

  He didn’t wait for them to reach him. Dorian sprinted forward, boots pounding against blood-slick tiles. He pointed upward without looking. A fireball screamed overhead sent by Lena. It slammed into a goblin riding a wolf, detonating against its face. The creature shrieked as flames swallowed its eyes, its grip loosening. Dorian leapt, momentum carrying him higher than he should have been able to manage. His dagger punched cleanly through the goblin’s throat. Hot blood sprayed across his arm as they hit the ground together, the body collapsing beneath him in a twitching heap.

  The wolf snarled and twisted, but Evan was already there. Evan crashed into its side like a battering ram, fists hammering into ribs with brutal efficiency. The wolf howled, staggering under the assault as bone cracked beneath Evan’s blows. Two goblins rushed them on foot, blades raised. Helena stepped forward, eyes cold with focus. Shadows erupted from the ground at the goblins’ feet, black tendrils snapping upward and binding their legs.

  The creatures screeched, hacking wildly at restraints that refused to break. “Now,” Helena said. Evan lunged. He swung for the first goblin’s head.

  The goblin twisted at the last second, faster than it looked. Its blade flashed downward, carving across Evan’s chest. Blood burst free, spraying across the stone. Evan staggered. The goblin raised its weapon again, aiming for his throat. Dorian didn’t think. He threw his dagger. The blade struck the goblin square in the face, the force snapping its head back as it collapsed mid-swing. Dorian spun just in time to see the goblin he’d knocked aside regaining its footing, sword already coming up. He side-kicked it hard in the face. The impact sent the goblin stumbling sideways, teeth clattering across stone. It snarled and straightened. A fireball slammed into its chest. Flames engulfed the creature as it screamed, dropping its weapon and collapsing in a burning heap.

  Dorian glanced over his shoulder. Lena stood with one hand raised, fire still dancing around her fingers.

  She met his gaze and nodded once. He nodded back. Dorian dropped beside Evan, pressing a hand against the wound. Blood soaked through his fingers. “You good?” Dorian asked. Evan coughed, then grinned through the pain. He gave a shaky thumbs up. “Still swinging.” Maria was already there, kneeling, her wand glowing as healing light spread across Evan’s chest. The bleeding slowed, flesh knitting together unevenly but strong enough.

  Dorian stood and scanned the battlefield. Students were dying. Some fought desperately, screaming as goblins overwhelmed them. Others ran, only to be cut down by wolves that moved faster than fear. The courtyard had become a patchwork of chaos and slaughter. Across the field, Calvin was laughing. His shield was up, his sword a blur as he waded through goblins with reckless confidence. His two healers stood close, magic flaring constantly as they poured power into him without pause. Goblins broke and fled from his advance.

  Calvin slammed his sword against his shield, roaring with triumph. “Yeah!” he shouted. “Run, you little fucks!” The air trembled. The laughter from the forest died instantly. A roar rolled across the courtyard, deep and commanding, vibrating through stone and bone alike. Goblins froze, then scattered to the sides as if pulled by invisible strings. A path opened. The goblin chieftain stepped into the courtyard. Each footstep was deliberate. Its massive frame loomed over the fallen, bright red skin with yellow piercing eyes and light armor scarred and stained.

  The wolf’s head atop its shoulders stared forward, empty eyes fixed beneath a frozen snarl. Its broadsword dragged briefly across the stone, sparks jumping where metal met tile.

  Calvin grinned wider and banged his sword against his shield. “Yeah!” he yelled. “Come get some, you fat fuck!” The chieftain didn’t even glance at him. Its head turned slowly. Its gaze locked onto Dorian. The massive broadsword lifted, the tip leveling directly at him. The chieftain roared again, louder than before. And in that moment, Dorian understood. This fight wasn’t random anymore. It had chosen his as his opponent.