In Knight Angelton’s decades of experience, ambushes of this scale were rare. Between scouts with observation pillars and their corresponding perception abilities, along with mages capable of scrying their route forward, organized military forces intending to spring traps of this magnitude were unlikely to avoid notice. And even on the rare occasion when ambushes like this did occur, they were usually comprised of either monsters or beasts with stealth abilities.

  If or when a soldier came across an ambush organized by sentients, it was usually an attempted assassination of someone whom they were escorting. Specialized illusionists and powerful mages were more than capable of actively hiding small groups of warriors when they wanted to. But an entire army? That would be extremely unlikely.

  “This doesn’t make any sense! They weren’t here when we came through before!” one of the army’s soldiers shouted in panic.

  Unwilling to waste the energy to formulate a reply, Angelton threw out another series of temporary shields to cover for two of their downed troops being dragged away toward the healers.

  From his left, he heard Blackwood shout, “Are you sure you ‘elites’ didn’t just miss the fake wall hiding an entire hells be damned army of kobalds behind it!?”

  In response, the army team leader’s stern voice overcame the sounds of battle to reply, “None of this was here. And even if it was, your scouts didn’t find it any better than we did!”

  Rather than engage in the pointless debate, Angelton focused on the battle. He planted himself in the middle of the melee, doing all that he could to keep the kobalds' attention on himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough experience with this type of warfare to have any better idea of how to handle it other than simply to repel it with overwhelming force.

  Since this entire conflict with the kobalds began, he along with Dorchester's army command had been consistently and depressingly surprised by what they were capable of. Their illusionary abilities, strategies, and suicide-like engagement tactics were utterly unfamiliar to anything they’d ever experienced.

  After the mages in the Tower of Magic cracked the illusionary technique the kobalds used, he’d thought they’d reached a turning point in the war. But, apparently, the enemy had either already adapted faster than they’d expected or command along with all the mages in the tower had missed something.

  He knew that trying to understand how they’d done it was pointless. What he needed to worry about was how to survive. Yet, despite knowing that he shouldn’t bother, Angelton couldn’t stop himself from struggling to mentally grasp the bigger picture.

  Luckily, Battle Leader Averrett’s attention remained on the battle. She was already shouting orders over the newly recovered command channels through the Battle Hub. He could hear her calm and controlled presence organizing healers, ensuring that the team channels were re-engaged, and preparing for their counterattack.

  Using his shield arm, he sideswiped a kobald hard enough to launch it back through the illusionary wall like a bloodied sack of refuse being tossed out the back of a butcher shop. In response, a kobald stuck its head out from the stone wall and hissed angrily at him, clearly expecting Angelton to be intimidated. When that didn’t work, it took a singular step away from the wall to launch a javelin, nearly falling over itself with how much effort it put into its throw.

  Frowning in annoyance, Angelton casually batted the javelin aside with his sword before turning his attention back to the rest of the battle.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another Wacko attempting to follow an injured kobald back through the illusion. Unsurprisingly, the Wacko wasn’t any more successful than the others who’d made similar attempts. For anyone other than a kobald, the stone was as solid as a tunnel wall.

  Having successfully baited another victim, multiple kobalds leaped out of the illusionary stone, ripping into the exposed Wacko like a pack of lizard-skinned jackals.

  “Stay in formation. Do not pursue them! Do not attempt to breach the wall! Move back!” he shouted while trying and failing to stop the Wacko’s body from being dragged to their death through the stonelike illusion.

  Sighing in defeat at the likely permanent loss of another soldier, he stepped back into formation and resumed his efforts to keep everyone alive.

  It had been less than a few minutes since the ambush set off, and he was only now coming to terms with how unprepared they were for something like this. Warfare of this type simply wasn’t something they’d ever trained for before.

  Back among the retreating melee line, Angelton attempted to organize a better skirmishing position. But, inconceivably, the illusionary wall began advancing in step with their retreat. The kobalds had obviously anticipated their countermeasures and prepared accordingly.

  The entire illusion moved with them. There was nowhere for them to go.

  Grimacing at the sight of another Wacko falling, he heard Battle Leader Averrett shout over the command channel, “Fall back! Fall back! We need mages up here now! Drop a shield in front of the melee so that we can regroup! Do not engage! Defend!”

  Feeling more and more stifled with his increasingly limited options, Angelton focused on trying to pick off any kobald that came near him. But he couldn’t be everywhere, and more and more Wackos were falling from sneak attacks that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Rather than utilizing the command channel, he shouted loud enough to overcome the din of battle, “Watch your footing! Do not pursue them when they retreat! Focus on recovering our injured!”

  Even with the growing panic he was feeling, he did his best to project confidence and control throughout his essence field. He could feel the surrounding troops faltering, and he wasn’t sure how long they would be able to hold before they finally broke. Hopefully, they would be able to make it until the mages arrived, otherwise things were going to get infinitely worse before they got better… if they got better at all.

  To his right, a kobald scurried across the ground on all fours attempting to hamstring the Wacko beside him. Hacking down with his sword, he managed to clip the kobald with the very edge of his blade. Growling under his breath he complained, “Cowardly little helions are learning…”

  Whoever was leading the kobald’s forces had adapted their battle doctrine well. Unlike how they’d fought in their previous engagements, what they were doing now was quite effective. They would pop out in small groups, hurling javelins and swarming random places along the line before retreating to safety behind their illusionary wall. He could see elements of their prior strategies in how they were fighting, but the execution was entirely different.

  It was inevitable that one or two would slip by his force's defenses. And unlike their previous engagements, the kobalds were focusing on pulling Wackos back with them behind their illusion. Likely intending to ensure that they couldn’t be resuscitated.

  If any of them were going to make it back to Dorchester, he knew their only option was to retreat. The longer he listened to the increasingly frantic chatter over the command channel, the more he agreed with Battle Leader Averrett’s orders. Whatever this illusionary technique the kobalds were using was, it wasn’t something they could currently deal with. They simply had no way to currently counteract it.

  Lord Walker had once said, ‘Adapt and overcome’, and he couldn’t help but think that advice was more relevant now than ever.

  His mind raced as he mentally prepared his observations of the technique. If and when they made it out of here, the mages would likely need all the information he could provide if they were to figure out a way to prepare for this type of technique in their next engagement.

  Midswing with his shield, he felt the ether in front of him destabilize.

  It was like seeing the tunnel walls fall apart all around him. The conflicting sensations between what his eyes were telling him and what his senses were feeling instantly began causing his stomach to churn.

  ‘What in the infinite hells below is going on?!?’ he wondered.

  His question was quickly answered by the entire stone wall in front of him dematerializing like an overpowered, but poorly built construct. The previously hidden horde of kobalds was revealed in seconds, all of them freezing in shock at their protection being stripped away from them.

  He could tell that the kobalds were just as surprised as he was. Whatever just happened, they had clearly not expected it and even more clearly weren’t prepared for it.

  The ironclad control he typically held on his facial expressions slipped as a rare grin appeared out of nowhere on his face. He saw that the enemy was now fully exposed merely a few units away from the combat line. Even though their numbers might be more than he’d expected, they were within charging distance, and they were vulnerable.

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  A few paces to his right, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Battle Leader Averrett launch herself into the kobalds like an essence cannon round. The edge of her essence-infused spear spun like a sickle on the end of a rope as she carved into them without mercy. Not wanting to be left behind, he followed along right behind her.

  Now that the little monsters had nowhere to hide, he was going to kill every last one of them. And, if he were very lucky, he might just be able to recover those poor Wackos who were still intact enough to be resuscitated.

  Not once did he even consider who or what had been responsible for this delightful new development. At least, he didn’t until he began hearing Wackos chanting ‘Walk-er, Walk-er, Walk-er’ as if it were their battle hymn.

  —--

  Nero had thought he’d gotten used to how quickly things could change on the battlefield, but he was still caught off guard by how many concurrent events were happening all at the same time.

  First, there was his surprisingly successful dismantlement of the kobald illusion. It had been so easy, so intuitive, it had taken him practically no effort at all to accomplish it. While the process itself was just as complicated as he remembered, it wasn’t nearly as mentally taxing as it had been the last time he’d done it. So, naturally, part of his mind immediately began fixating on the question of ‘why’.

  Second, his senses were being assaulted by the rapidly changing essence fields of those around him. He’d been able to feel his fellow Wackos’ fear and panic, and it took no small amount of effort to distance himself from it. But, the moment the illusion came down, it was like a tide of hope swept through the entire tunnel. The sensation wasn’t normally something he’d be unhappy about, but the effect it had on the cumulative essence signature of the entire force was jarring. It felt like each and every Wacko had simultaneously decided to latch onto each other with their essence fields, strengthening and reinforcing one another. The result was an even stronger merging effect that increased the pull he felt on his own essence field.

  His mind was stuck analyzing ‘what’ had happened, ‘why’ it had happened, and ‘how’ he was going to deal with it. Nero knew that if he allowed himself to fall into their combined fervor, he’d lose his ability to cast magic. His essence field needed to remain separate or he’d lose control of the essence flows. The moment he let go of his individuality, he’d become just another fighter in the mass of humanity all around him.

  But even those interesting and unavoidable topics of consideration weren’t the only things his poor, overworked brain was focusing on.

  The moment he saw how large the chamber housing the kobalds was, he immediately began considering the likelihood that they’d be overrun. Which then led to the question of how the scouts had missed an entire chamber filled with kobalds in the first place. Wasn’t this the former encampment site? Shouldn’t they have known it was here? Or had the army team led them somewhere else? Had they been set up?

  He also couldn’t help but think about how entirely different the technique the kobalds were using to create the illusionary wall was from what he’d seen before. It was both similar to the illusions they’d used to hide their tunnels, while also being drastically different. Nero’s brain was stuck in a feedback loop trying to find the right way to conceptualize what he’d noticed. The technique was both more spell-like and more controlled than the array based illusions he’d seen before. Weirdly, he was beginning to feel the urge to try and copy it.

  “Walk-er! Walk-er! Walk-er!” he heard the Wackos around him shouting as they raced past him into the hoard of kobalds like a pack of lunatics.

  Snapping out of his thoughts, he tried to focus on his immediate surroundings. He must have spent a good five seconds just standing there like an idiot, lost in thought while the battle went on around him.

  Muttering to himself, he said, “I really need to stop allowing myself to get so damn distracted by everything.”

  Saying that out loud, he immediately realized what the problem was. His mind felt like it was bigger than it should be. The best way to describe it was that his ‘mind’ had expanded, and it was still growing. It wasn’t like he was getting smarter, or his memory was improving, it was more like his attention span had expanded while increasing the number of things he could think about at one time. In general, his mind was just ‘more’.

  Not only that, but the amount of information coming in from his senses had been slowly growing, along with his ability to process it. The downside, of course, was that the more mental bandwidth he had access to, the more he ended up getting distracted by the resulting stray thoughts. Nero simply wasn’t used to being able to think about that many things at once. In the past, he’d think about one thing at a time and focus fully on that. His abilities and natural talents were beginning to outstrip the associated skills he needed to control them.

  That realization was almost enough to distract him from the battle all over again.

  Grimacing in annoyance, Nero put everything but the moment out of his mind while he began gathering essence to create his mage armor. In addition to it being useful in keeping him alive, it would also put to use some of the free brainpower that had been assaulting him with thought streams which weren’t all that important right now.

  Perhaps later, when he had some free time, he’d spend an afternoon practicing his mental multi-tasking by performing karaoke while painting landscapes in front of an audience.

  The imagined image of him with a Bob Ross afro singing the soundtrack to Frozen vanished as his mind coalesced his mage armor. He could feel part of his mind being taken up by the singular task of maintaining the spell. While he still had a few errant thought streams vying for his attention, overall his mental performance became much more recognizable to what he was used to.

  Sighing in relief, he pulled out his sword and began stalking toward the advancing combat line. He could see that the kobalds were trying to regroup while the Wackos spread out around the tunnel, spreading out into a large arc around it. The mages were already putting up their shield to protect them from the likely spells that would be coming down on them.

  Getting closer to the melee line, he could see what was left of a few of his Wackos' bodies being dragged back into the tunnel. Gasping in shock, he saw that the kobalds had removed the poor bastards' heads and begun feeding on their extremities like they were man-jerky. It was the very definition of ghastly.

  One of his more practical thought streams understood why they’d done it. They’d obviously learned that humans were capable of bringing their fallen back from the dead. So, they’d naturally developed countermeasures to stop them from doing that. And as for their eating of the corpses, the little monsters were likely just being economical with their resources.

  But that didn’t stop him from being furious at ‘seeing’ the results of their new battle tactics. No, ‘furious’ was an understatement. He was livid.

  Rushing forward, he sheathed his sword and began trying to resuscitate who he could. But he quickly found that his efforts were wasted. Just as he’d once read in the healing books he’d gotten from Jennings, a sufficiently destroyed body or, more accurately, a thoroughly ‘changed’ corpse would lose its connection to its former soul. It wasn’t so much about the brain being disconnected from the body, but the fact that the more the body no longer resembled what it used to look like, the less of an identity on this plane of existence the soul had to go back to.

  Unable to keep his emotions under control, he ignored the sounds of fighting going on around him and dropped to his knees in defeat. All of this had happened so quickly. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  These Wackos weren’t like him, their souls weren’t capable of holding on. They were out there in the ether… just waiting for someone to help them… and he couldn’t… he couldn’t help them.

  Lifting his head, he altered his perception to watch as the souls of his former comrades retreated past the planar wall toward their final destination. He could see the echos of their minds being collected into the world’s ether while the core of their personality moved up through the planes into the expected afterlife. He saw it all.

  It was one thing to read about it, but it was quite another to watch it happen. He couldn’t help but take a moment to marvel at the idea that scientists like Nick and Jennings had spent their lives studying this type of phenomenon when all he had to do to understand was spectate as it occurred in real time right in front of him.

  More and more he felt like this batshit crazy world was affecting how he saw things. All the cliches and annoying tropes he’d been trying to ignore really were the foundation of the reality he was inhabiting. Was there any point in continuing to stubbornly hate it just for being stupid?

  Watching another soul slip through the planar wall, Nero found himself grappling with his natural inclination to ignore how utterly absurd this all was.

  “Lord Walker, all you alright?” he heard a voice ask hurriedly while they gripped his shoulder.

  Turning his head, he met the eyes of a young woman who was obviously one of the healers based on what she was wearing. Her short brown hair was disheveled and her bloodshot eyes made it clear that she’d been continually overstressing her center.

  Unable to maintain his sour expression in the face of her complete and utter sincerity, he replied softly, “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Standing up, he turned his attention back toward the expanding battle line and declared somewhat dramatically, “I’m going to end this before those bastards kill any more of us.”

  Right as he was about to head off, he felt her grab onto his elbow and stop him. Turning his head back to look at her, he didn’t say anything but instead offered a quizzical look as if asking ‘What?’

  “You can’t, my lord. I mean… you shouldn’t,” she said with a firm but respectful look on her face.

  Frowning in annoyance, Nero was about to go into a rant on just how stupid this society had to be if they were dead set on getting everyone killed in the pursuit of their ‘path’ or other some such nonsense. But, before he could, she interrupted him by pointing at the battle line and smiling proudly.

  “Look! We’re winning! Our casualties have stopped, and our healers are handling the injured. If you wipe out the kobalds now, all you’ll be doing is robbing us of our opportunity to grow. You’ve done enough,” she said before remembering to quickly add a respectful, “My lord.”

  Examining the battle with fresh eyes, he could see that she was right. In fact, the Wackos were decimating the kobalds. They were fighting better than he’d ever seen them. Once he’d noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing it. He’d seen them fighting before, but they’d never been this… good.

  “I have to get back to the wounded, but if you need anything, please let me know. Um… I’m Amanda Olsen. And… uh… I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve won us another battle. Our path has never been clearer. Thank you, my lord,” she said before hurrying back toward the other healers.

  Somewhat lost in thought, Nero watched as the embarrassed young woman got back to what she’d been doing.

  Turning away, he returned his focus back to the battle which was still going on at the edge of the tunnel. With his perception field, he could see that only around ten or eleven Wackos were permanently lost despite how hectic the beginning of the engagement had been. Maybe losses like that weren’t something they considered worth worrying about. And, apparently, Cathleen and the rest of the fighters now had it under control. So, should he really get involved? Was this the kind of cold mathematics that Jennings and the high-level douchebags in their towers thought about?

  Rubbing his temples at the headache he was feeling, he muttered, “Okay, I’m now starting to understand why these assholes spend so much time meditating. If they didn’t, they’d go crazy just trying to keep their shit together.”