The thirty minutes of rest felt like five seconds and an eternity at the same time.
Renn sat on a large rock, trying not to think about the fact that his bandaged shoulder throbbed to the rhythm of his heart.
"Shadow."
He looked up. Varic stood in front of him, his armor dented and a fresh scar crossing his forehead. The Supervisor looked ten years older than when they had entered the Rift.
"Supervisor," Renn greeted, trying to stand.
"Don't get up. Sit." Varic made a sharp gesture with his hand. He stood there for a moment, looking toward the fortress in the distance, then back at Renn. "Listen. At first, when I saw your gear... I thought Lily had brought expensive mercenaries just for show. I thought you were another rich Lord playing at being important."
"I'm not rich," Renn said.
"I know. I know that now." Varic rubbed his tired face. "And I was wrong. Your... consultants. They saved this Raid. Without them, I'd be dead. Stormhand would be dead. Half of us would probably be dead or worse."
He paused. This was clearly difficult for him.
"So... I apologize. For being an idiot at the start. And thank you. For coming. For helping."
Renn blinked behind his mask. He hadn't expected this.
"It's okay," he finally said. "I understand why you were cautious. I wouldn't trust a guy with a mask and two suspiciously powerful women either."
Varic let out something that might have been a laugh. "Suspiciously powerful is an understatement." He looked toward where Valeria stood near the edge of the camp, watching the perimeter. "That one in purple. I saw her kill fifty wolves in thirty seconds. I've seen Level 50 Lords who don't move like that."
"She is very good at her job," Renn said carefully.
"And the other one." Varic lowered his voice. "What exactly is she?"
Renn followed Varic's gaze to where Lysandra sat on a smooth rock, still wrapped in his leather jacket, cleaning her nails with absolute disinterest. Several of Lily's soldiers watched her with a mix of reverence and poorly disguised terror.
"She is a very specialized consultant," Renn said. "With very high rates."
"I bet." Varic looked him straight in the eyes. "Look, I won't press you for details. We all have secrets. But if you ever need work, or a place in a real Alliance, I told you before... the Northern Alliance will welcome you. No questions asked."
"I'll think about it," Renn promised. "Thanks."
Varic nodded and walked away to check on his troops. Renn watched him go, feeling something strange in his chest. Respect. Varic respected him. Not as a joke or a charity project, but as an equal.
"That big human has an interesting smell," a voice said beside him.
Renn looked down. Lysandra had approached silently, as always, and now stood next to his rock, watching him with those glowing amber eyes.
"Interesting smell?" Renn asked.
"Mmm." Lysandra tilted her head. "I like him more than the others. At least he knows when he is outmatched and accepts it with grace."
"I think that was almost a compliment."
"It was. Don't waste my generosity." Lysandra sat next to him on the rock, letting her legs dangle. "How is your shoulder?"
"It hurts."
"Good. Pain means you are still alive." She adjusted the leather jacket around her shoulders. "This jacket is starting to smell like you, you know? It is... not unpleasant."
Renn felt himself blushing under the mask. "Can I have it back after this?"
"No. It's mine now. I'll buy you another one." Lysandra closed her eyes, enjoying the sun. "When we get out of here, I want tuna. Real tuna, not that cheap canned trash you've been giving me. Mana doesn't fill the stomach, Substitute Lord. Only the soul. And my stomach has its own demands." She opened one eye to look at him. "Are you ready for the final part?"
"No," Renn admitted. "But that's never stopped me before."
"Honesty. I like it." Lysandra closed her eye again. "Good. When we go in there, stay close to me. If that hobgoblin leader tries anything stupid, I'll crush him before he can touch you."
"Thanks."
"It's not for you. It's because getting blood on my new jacket would be annoying."
"Of course."
"Shadow!"
Lily walked toward him with a medical bag in her hand. She looked determined.
"Let me check your shoulder," she said without preamble.
"Valeria already bandaged it," Renn protested.
"I want to make sure you don't have an infection starting or worse. Take off the shoulder armor."
"Lily, I'm fine..."
"Don't argue with me, Renn." She used his real name, not his alias. She was genuinely worried. "Either you take it off, or I take it off."
Renn sighed and started unbuckling the straps of his pauldron. Lysandra, still sitting next to him, watched with interest.
"The elf girl is worried about you," she commented. "It's cute."
"I'm not an elf," Lily said tightly, carefully removing Valeria's bandage. "I'm human. I just have orange eyes because of my grandmother."
"Ah. Apologies." Lysandra didn't sound sorry at all. "So the human is worried about my Substitute Lord. Equally cute."
Lily blushed but didn't answer, concentrating on cleaning the wound. Her hands were soft but firm, and Renn felt a warmth different from pain spreading from where she touched.
"It's not infected," Lily finally diagnosed. "But you need real stitches, not just tight bandages. When we get out of here, go to a professional healer."
"I will."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Lily looked him in the eyes through the mask. "Good." She started re-bandaging the shoulder, this time with proper technique.
"If you die in there," Lily said quietly, "I'm going to be very angry with you."
"Understood."
"Seriously. I'll kill you myself if you die."
"The logic is questionable, but I get the sentiment."
Lily laughed, breaking the tension. "Idiot." She patted his good shoulder and stood up. "The thirty minutes are almost up. Varic is going to give the order soon."
She walked away to where her squad was gathered. Renn watched her go, aware that Lysandra was watching him with an unreadable expression.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Nothing." Lysandra smiled, showing just a hint of fangs. "Just observing. It is... entertaining."
"What is entertaining?"
"You. Humans. The ways you communicate without communicating." She stood up, stretching like a cat. "Come. It's time to end this."
Varic stood in the center of the camp, his greatsword resting on his shoulder.
"LISTEN!" His voice cut through the murmur of conversations. "The break is over. It's time to finish what we started. The fortress is there. Kral'thak is inside. And he's not going to surrender without a fight."
He looked around the group.
"Some of you are going to die in there. I'm not going to lie about that. But if we are going to die, let it be fighting. Let it be standing. And let it be taking that bastard with us." He raised his sword. "FOR THE FALLEN!"
"FOR THE FALLEN!" the group roared.
"SIEGE FORMATION! ADVANCE!"
The march toward the fortress was tense. Every step brought them closer to those black walls of wood reinforced with bone and metal. The towers were still standing, dark and menacing against the alien sky.
Renn walked in Lily's formation, with Valeria and Lysandra flanking him. Helga and Greta were at the front with their shields, and the rest of the squad followed in a tight formation.
"Those towers have archers," Sera murmured, gripping her bow. "I can see movement. It's going to rain arrows as soon as we're in range."
"How far is the range?" Lily asked.
"One hundred meters. We are at one hundred and twenty."
"So we have twenty meters of peace left," Thrain calculated, spinning his twin swords nervously. "Great."
One hundred meters.
Ninety.
Eighty.
"SHIELDS UP!" Varic shouted. "BRACE FOR THE RAIN!"
Seventy meters.
Sixty.
The archers in the towers stood up. Renn could see them clearly now: Hobgoblins with longbows, at least thirty in each tower. Sixty archers in total.
Fifty meters.
The sky darkened with arrows. Dozens, hundreds, a black cloud of death descending toward them.
"COVER!" Arcturus roared.
The Armored Ones raised their shields. The mages conjured barriers. Everyone crouched, bracing for impact.
The arrows fell.
And they passed around Lily's group. As if there were an invisible bubble deflecting them.
An arrow heading straight for Renn's head curved at the last second and stuck into the ground to his left. Another that should have pierced Lyra's eye turned and stuck into the dirt at her feet.
"What...?" Lily lowered her shield, looking around in confusion. "How...?"
"Lysandra," Renn said, turning to the princess. "What did you do?"
Lysandra yawned. "I altered local probability. The arrows coming toward our group now have a zero percent probability of impact. Basic physics modified for convenience."
"That... that is not basic physics," Sera protested.
"Maybe for you." Lysandra examined her nails. "For me, it is the equivalent of breathing."
"Can you do that for the whole group?" Varic asked, having heard from his position at the front.
"I could. But that would be boring." Lysandra looked toward the towers. "Besides, if I protect everyone, how are they going to gain experience? Suffering builds character."
"Next wave!" someone shouted.
Another cloud of arrows fell. This time, the Armored Ones weren't so lucky. Renn heard screams as several arrows found gaps between the shields. Three men fell.
But Lily's group remained intact. Every arrow coming toward them deflected miraculously.
"This is cheating," Greta muttered, though she didn't sound annoyed. Just amazed.
"Are you complaining?" Helga asked.
"No. Definitely not."
"THE GATE!" Varic shouted. "WE NEED TO BREACH THAT GATE! BRAM!"
The demolition dwarf pushed his way to the front with a huge grin on his bearded face. He carried a backpack that clinked dangerously with every step.
"FINALLY!" Bram roared. "I've waited my whole life for this moment! A gate reinforced with dark magic! A goblin fortress! JUSTIFIED EXPLOSIVES!"
"How much are you going to use?" Korg asked.
"EVERYTHING."
"Everything?"
"ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING." Bram started pulling metal spheres from his backpack, stacking them against the base of the gate. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. "This is going to be beautiful."
"That is too much explosion," Varic said cautiously. "You're going to bring down half the fortress."
"THAT IS THE POINT!"
"Bram..."
"TRUST ME! I'M A PROFESSIONAL!" Bram finished placing the last bomb and started running back toward the group. "EVERYONE BACK! ONE HUNDRED METERS! NOW!"
"You heard the dwarf," Varic ordered. "FALL BACK! FAST!"
The group ran back. Bram arrived last, panting, with a detonator box in his hands.
"Ready?" he asked with bright eyes.
"No," several people said at the same time.
"PERFECT!" Bram pressed the button.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, the fortress gate... disappeared.
It simply ceased to exist in a fireball so bright that Renn had to close his eyes even through the mask.
The shockwave hit them like a solid wall. Renn felt Valeria put a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him to the ground. Around him, others weren't as lucky and went flying backward several meters.
The roar was deafening. It lasted five full seconds. And when it finally faded, what remained of the fortress entrance was a smoking crater the size of a house.
"By the ancestors," Arcturus whispered. "Bram, you are a madman."
"Thanks!" Bram was practically jumping with excitement. "Did you see that? DID YOU SEE THAT? Perfection!"
"You almost killed us," Korg pointed out.
"Almost doesn't count. The gate is open! You're welcome!"
Varic shook his head. "Fine. The entrance is clear. Move out. And Bram..."
"Yes?"
"Good job."
Bram blushed under his beard. "Ah. Well. Just doing my job."
They entered the fortress through the smoking hole where the gate used to be. The interior was everything Renn had imagined: hallways of black wood, torches burning with unnatural green fire, and alien symbols carved on every surface.
And goblins. Lots of goblins.
The survivors of Kral'thak's army were scattered, scared, disorganized. Without their leaders, without their shamans, they were just an armed mob.
"FORWARD!" Varic shouted, and the slaughter began.
The Armored Ones advanced in a wedge, crushing resistance. The mages cast area spells that swept entire hallways. Lily's group flanked, cutting down isolated groups trying to escape.
Renn found himself fighting alongside Helga, his new sword cutting through goblins that were too slow or too terrified to defend themselves properly. It wasn't glorious. It was dirty, necessary work.
"Stairs ahead!" Sera shouted. "They go up!"
"That's where the throne room is," Varic said, wiping green blood from his sword. "Kral'thak will be there. Assault formation. Let's go!"
They climbed the stairs. The hallways became wider, more ornate. The walls were decorated with war trophies: broken weapons, armor with emblems, torn banners.
They reached a huge door: black wood reinforced with bands of iron and bone. It was closed.
"Bram?" Varic asked.
"I already used all my explosives on the entrance," the dwarf admitted. "But I can..."
The door opened by itself. Slowly, with a screech of hinges that hadn't been oiled in decades.
The throne room was massive. Fifty meters in diameter, with a ceiling that disappeared into the shadows. And in the center, sitting on a throne made of bones and molten metal, was Kral'thak.
The Hobgoblin leader was bigger than Renn had imagined when he saw him on the mammoth. Almost three meters tall, with muscles bulging under his black plate armor. His face was brutal: square jaw, protruding fangs, and ritual scars carved into his green cheeks.
And he had three eyes. Two where they should be, and a third one in the center of his forehead, glowing with red light.