The Skaven had caught up again.
Mia could already guess how the Stormvermin kept the lesser rats in line. Skaven leaders never cared about casualties. Burn a hundred—there would be a thousand more. Burn a thousand—ten thousand would crawl from somewhere unseen.
That was the Skaven.
The Vermintide.
An endless black sea that, in the final days of the world, would drown even the stone-hearted Dwarf Kings.
They were still coming.
Mia had no true sense of direction in this city. She only remembered the direction the civilians had pointed earlier—and aligned it as best she could with the faint guidance of Grace.
The good news was that the Skaven were no more familiar with Nuln's surface streets than she was. Their dreadful discipline slowed their pursuit.
Then she heard something new.
Not just Skaven screeches. Not just human screams.
War cries.
Steel striking steel.
And—like thunder splitting the air—
Gunfire.
Blackpowder.
They were not alone.
The sounds were close—too close. But the narrow alleys twisted between tall buildings, turning echoes into confusion.
Mia moved ahead of Veldon.
The battle noise was nearly in her ears when—
A Clanrat burst around the only corner ahead.
Even prepared, she flinched.
She swung.
—
Felix Jaeger sidestepped a jagged blade, thrust forward, and drove Karaghul through a gap in Skaven armor. He twisted upward, piercing the creature's heart.
The rat shrieked and fell.
Felix wrenched his sword free and surveyed the chaos.
To his left, a mercenary smashed a rat captain's skull with an iron bar while parrying another with a blade in his off-hand. Further away came a Dwarf's battle roar—
Gotrek.
Hard to tell who held the advantage.
The mercenaries maintained a line, but more Skaven were pouring in, drawn by the clash. Civilians emerged from apartments, armed with kitchen knives, clubs, even pistols.
Better to die fighting than be slaughtered in one's own home.
Good, Felix thought. We need them.
Then—
A severed rat head spun out of a dark alley toward him.
He deflected it instinctively. Blood splashed across his face.
"Sorry!"
The voice was clear—silver-bright.
Felix looked toward the alley.
First he saw the sword—
A golden blade reflecting firelight.
Then its wielder.
A blonde girl in black robes, eyes bound by cloth.
Strange, he thought. How does she see?
He noticed her beauty, and for a fleeting second, the poet he had once been stirred in his blood—
Then the adventurer in him saved his life.
He ducked a backstab from a black-cloaked Skaven assassin.
Heat roared past his cheek.
Flame burst from the blindfolded girl's outstretched left hand.
The assassin staggered back, burning.
Ah.
A wizard.
That explained the blindfold.
Relief surged. Reinforcements.
Then he saw the man behind her.
He had to tilt his head upward.
Armor styled like a Bretonnian knight, tabard stained with rat blood. No great helm—only a simple helm and cloth mask hiding his face.
He was enormous.
Felix once heard someone rudely describe Gotrek as "a boar walking upright."
This man?
Perhaps a slightly less bulky Orc.
Purely in stature, of course. Felix had yet to see Gotrek lose to anything.
If this "Bretonnian" could fight—
They might live.
Mia saw Felix too.
And felt a strange familiarity.
Like seeing a cosplayer whose character you know perfectly—
But the name just won't come.
"Over here!" Felix shouted. "We need you!"
The words left him with guilt.
She looked like a child.
But there was no choice.
Several Skaven burst from the alley.
Mia reacted instantly—another wall of flame sealed their retreat.
Veldon stepped through the firelight and cut them down.
Felix saw it clearly now.
A decisive caster.
A terrifying warrior.
"And watch the alleys!" Mia called.
They joined the melee.
Mia spotted a bare-chested Dwarf with a towering orange crest, standing atop a mound of corpses.
Gotrek.
He carved a barrier of limbs and blood around himself.
Veldon plunged into the thickest fighting. Mercenaries saw only a looming shadow and a flash of steel before the rat before them lost its head.
Mia unleashed flame.
Different shapes.
Different flows.
When she realized her fire did not burn her—
She stopped holding back.
Flames surged like waves.
Spiraled like vortices.
She expelled continuous jets of fire from her palm—like a living flamethrower.
She had never learned this formally.
Yet she understood.
To the locals, the arrival of a fire mage and a mighty knight felt like divine intervention.
Morale soared.
Mia drank from her blue flask.
More than half remained—not because she conserved it, but because she had poured all her red flasks into blue.
She didn't need healing.
She needed fuel.
Felix watched her.
He had seen Bright Wizards before—red robes, wild hair, volatile power.
This girl was different.
Her flames were controlled.
Alive.
Where did she come from?
Then he saw them.
Beyond the rat tide—
A dozen hulking shapes.
Rat Ogres.
Felix pressed his lips thin.
Gotrek saw them too.
The Slayer leapt from his corpse mound like a meteor, carving a path straight toward the monsters.
Felix hesitated—
Then followed.
"Men! With me! Kill the bastards!"
Mercenaries surged forward.
Mia fell slightly behind.
Should she use the Erdtree's blessing again?
Earlier, it had been necessity.
Now?
The story would likely unfold without her.
Nuln would survive.
But—
Damn it, the atmosphere is perfect. Might as well!
This wasn't 40K.
The Old World was full of gods. Order gods. Life. Nature. Courage. Wisdom. Art.
A radiant golden tree of righteousness?
Unlikely to attract witch hunters.
So—
As the mercenaries charged—
Golden light rose behind them.
Strength flooded their limbs.
Vitality surged.
They did not slow.
They accepted the unknown blessing.
Veldon followed close behind Gotrek, blades sweeping aside rats.
The mercenaries roared names they knew—
"Sigmar!"
"Ulric!"
"Tal!"
Their voices merged into one rolling war cry.
Only Veldon knew where the light truly came from.
In a world where he could not feel the Erdtree—
He still fought beneath its glow.
Beneath his mask, he shouted:
"Glory to the Erdtree!"
He had once believed he forfeited the right to say that.
Now—
All would hear him.
Mia heard it too.
She inhaled sharply.
"Glory to the Erdtree!"
Felix turned.
Above her head hovered the radiant sigil of a golden tree.
The mercenaries crushed into the Skaven ranks.
Even facing Rat Ogres, they did not falter.
Gotrek roared like thunder, charging like an elephant despite his size.
The Rat Ogres hesitated.
That moment was enough.
Gotrek swung.
White flash—
One Rat Ogre lost both legs at the knee.
It fell.
His axe came around again—
Its skull exploded in bone and blood.
Another seized him, claws sinking deep.
It lifted him high.
Blood dripped from the Slayer's shoulder.
The creature opened its rancid maw—
Gotrek raised his axe—
Veldon struck first.
Twin blades sliced open the Rat Ogre's belly.
Entrails spilled.
The beast shrieked and dropped the Dwarf.
Veldon stepped in—
Drove steel through its heart.
It collapsed.
Gotrek climbed to his feet.
"Well struck, manling!" he boomed.
He looked at Veldon—
Then tilted his head higher.
Higher still—
Until he met golden eyes.
The Dwarf snorted stubbornly and charged toward his next kill—
Apparently unaware his wounds had already closed.