The only thing that could make fleeing civilians turn back—
Other than hope—
Was a greater terror.
"Human-thing! Die-die!"
The Skaven had appeared ahead of the escape route.
Shrill battle cries pierced the air, followed by the screams of dying humans.
The path to the palace district had been cut off.
Those who had run headlong into the Skaven ranks had never seen such creatures before.
Ratmen—ugly, malignant, plague-bearing abominations. There was nothing noble or righteous about them.
The people of the Empire knew of them, of course.
They existed in dusty tomes of ancient history, in old legends, in the tales of heroes who had once "saved" the Empire.
But they did not exist in sewers.
No one truly believed a race of intelligent, speaking rats lived beneath their feet.
That was the stuff of fairy tales—like goblins or slimes.
And yet—
The Skaven were real.
No matter how much the Empire's rulers denied or suppressed the truth, reality would not be erased.
When the Skaven chose to invade, it was the poorest districts that died first.
The wails of humans were music to them.
They reveled in slaughter.
The fleeing crowd crashed backward into those still pushing forward. Those at the rear couldn't see what was happening ahead.
Now there were Skaven in front—
And Skaven behind.
From narrow alleys, black-furred shapes poured out like ink dropped into water, spreading across the streets.
The civilians trapped in the middle were like insects in a syringe.
Sooner or later, they would be crushed.
Among them was the woman Veldon had helped earlier.
She saw Mia and Veldon again.
The moment she did, she collapsed to her knees and sobbed.
"Good knight! Save us!"
She should not have cried out.
The plea spread like wildfire.
In seconds, Veldon became the lifeline everyone lunged toward.
A towering knight from "Bretonnia."
"Damn it…" Mia muttered under her breath.
She wasn't heartless.
She believed in helping others—
But only within her limits.
Right now, the flow of people had nearly stopped. Those running forward and those retreating were crushed together.
Skaven swarmed in from the alleys, black shapes spreading rapidly through the streets.
Mia grabbed the woman's arm.
"What year is it?"
"What?" The woman blinked in confusion.
"What year?"
"…Imperial Calendar 2499."
Mia exhaled slowly.
Good.
That meant this was the failed invasion.
Not the End Times.
After a brief hesitation, she made her decision.
Killing Skaven.
That was manageable.
They had to break through—
Not just to help these strangers—
But to return home.
The crowd clung to Veldon, pleading for protection.
Mia's mind raced.
Every second wasted meant more deaths.
Her past-life knowledge surfaced at lightning speed.
She leapt atop the overturned stall—the only platform that raised her above the average Nuln citizen.
"People of Nuln!"
No one would have guessed she had arrived in this world barely twenty minutes ago.
"We must carve our way through! We cannot let these creatures born of hell slaughter those we love! Take up whatever weapons you can find—show me how much you value your lives and your families!"
Veldon looked at her, startled.
As if seeing her for the first time.
In a place that unsettled even him—
She stood like a born leader.
But Mia knew the truth.
Her voice didn't carry far enough.
Few were stirred.
She had to become undeniable.
She clenched her left hand.
Power surged into her sacred seal—far more than she had ever attempted before.
She would push the incantation beyond its limits.
Since discovering she could temper Catch Flame to light kindling, she had realized—
Incantations responded to will.
If fire could be adjusted—
Why not the Erdtree's blessings?
She poured in more.
More.
Until she reached her limit.
Then she released it.
"I vow by the Erdtree!"
The most brilliant golden radiance she had ever seen erupted outward.
Even in Veldon's fragmented memories, no light burned brighter.
A phantom Erdtree unfurled above her head, vast and magnificent.
Its holy brilliance washed over the entire avenue.
Shops.
Pillars.
Alleys.
Every shadow within her sight was driven back.
The Skaven shrieked, clutching their eyes.
Their sight, born for darkness, could not withstand such light.
For a heartbeat—
The entire street froze.
Humans and Skaven alike.
Then—
"Blessing of the Erdtree!"
A second surge.
A massive golden sigil flared beneath their feet.
Countless motes of light rose skyward.
Civilians who had believed death was certain opened their eyes—
And found their wounds knitting shut.
The warmth flooding their bodies revived more than flesh.
It rekindled hope.
They did not know this symbol.
It was not Sigmar.
Not Taal.
Not Verena. Not Myrmidia. Not Shallya.
It was no god of their pantheon.
But they did not care.
They had witnessed a miracle.
They had not been abandoned.
"People of Nuln!"
Her voice, empowered by faith and magic, rang like a bell.
"For our loved ones! For our city! For ourselves!"
"Forward! To the palace district!"
She gestured sharply.
Veldon understood at once.
He surged ahead, parting the crowd, twin swords drawn, charging into the stunned Skaven ranks.
"Follow our knight!"
Mia raised the Golden Sword high.
Bathed in radiant light, it gleamed like a beacon.
She could feel it—
Those amplified incantations had drained more than two-thirds of her strength.
She drank from her Cerulean Flask.
The civilians roared.
"For Sigmar!"
Men and women seized chairs, boards, fire pokers—anything with an edge—and struck.
Clanrats were barely chest-high, poorly armored, wielding crude blades.
Without numbers, they were nothing.
And now they were blinded.
The people of Nuln struck them down.
Weapons fell.
New hands picked them up.
Momentum shifted.
At the forefront—
Veldon.
He was a tank without a horse.
A walking siege engine.
Most Skaven barely reached his thigh.
His twin blades carved through them like reaping scythes.
Efficient.
Unerring.
Merciless.
He fought like a machine.
Forged by centuries of war.
No wasted motion.
Every strike was final.
The civilians rallied behind him.
The black tide faltered.
Mia remained atop the stall, guiding those still catching up.
The able-bodied shielded the weak.
The Skaven began to rout.
Clanrats panicked.
The golden light had shaken them to their core.
When one Skaven feared—
All feared.
They could smell it.
Fear pheromones spread like contagion.
Unless—
Something frightened them more.
"Do not run-run! Back to fight! Flee and die-die!"
A Stormvermin captain shrieked.
Black-armored elites advanced from the rear.
They cut down fleeing Clanrats without hesitation.
That was Skaven nature.
No loyalty.
No virtue.
Only survival.
Under threat of death, the Clanrats steadied.
"Yes-yes! Back! Attack!"
"Take city! Enslave man-things! Kill priest-thing!"
Stormvermin and Clanrats surged forward again.
Heavy armor.
Jagged halberds.
Ambition burning in every beady eye.
Even as elites—
They were still Skaven.
No discipline.
No formation.
Just a chaotic wave of black steel and fur—
Charging straight toward Mia.