“Same,” Xane said and lobbed necrotic orbs.
“The Hellions are trying to negotiate but in the heat of battle that’s like herding cats. Oh, no offence Pie, you’re the sweetest.”
“Are you okay on your own?” Goro asked.
Chay turned in a circle. “For now, think so. Hit the shouty one first.”
Goro took off, bounced off the ceiling and threw himself at the Hellion army that pushed back the Kobolds. Flame orbs raced along the ceiling to provide light and blind the Kobolds who had the advantage in dim lightning. Goro grabbed one out of the air and rammed it into the ‘negotiating’ Hellion’s face-plate.
He kicked the warvark hard enough to make it shudder and toss off its riders into the infantry.
Goro kicked and punched until the creature’s back was broken. By then arrows and fireballs were coming his way. There were casters among the hellions. He was taking damage faster than he healed.
With the now dead vark as cover, Goro used the swords and axes dropped by warriors as projectiles, making at least one enemy go down with each throw.
He kept an eye out for the warlocks among them. Heavy armor hindered their casting but they wore more than robes. He let his instincts — and their fireballs — guide him.
The cavern was swarming with crazed, bloodthirsty lizardmen and desperate elite warriors whose discipline broke as the last living warvark thrashed its own handlers in blind panic.
The trampled stalks underfoot sparkled like a rave dance floor as bioluminescent liquid leaked from their roots.
Every part of the room was a small front and Goro was a force of nature zooming between them to wreak extra havoc. He couldn’t tell where his friends were, aside from Chay’s plume of thick smoke that kept an area clear.
In all that chaos, another monster appeared. Either a secret weapon, or the creature had been woken by the noise.
A creamy white Wyrm rushed from a higher tunnel and plowed through screeching Kobolds. It had a frog-head and a bull one. Tusks and horns decorated the entire length of its body. An Ivory Wyrm.
Part of the creature vibrated and poisonous tusks shot from the end of its tail.
Goro bounced off a Hellion’s head and grabbed a tusk from the air. With the momentum of the item, Goro flung around and let the tusk slice a path through a Hellion general.
A flash drew his attention.
Warlocks had unpacked a hip-high, bulbous sci-fi machine ringed by blinking lights. Rune-button presses made it hum to life.
The high tech device emitted a force field bubble around the casters. As the field established, it slammed into the Ivory Wyrm which got pushed into the warvark. The monsters fought — two tusked serpentine animal heads against an onslaught of bleeding tentacles.
The protected warlocks formed a circle and began to chant.
Goro found Chay. “What is that?”
“Mockery-tech?” the umbralist guessed. “They’re casting some mass curse to pacify the area. We better go. Find Marcus.”
Goro jumped to the ceiling and levitated. The animus-fighter was throwing holy roundhouse kicks amidst Kobolds who hadn’t gotten the message. Most were abandoning the fight.
Goro squished a warrior underneath as he made a comet-landing.
The Filipino flinched. “Fuck, you look scary.”
Goro looked down on himself. He was covered in flecks of blood, mostly blue, and other gunk. “Uh, anyway. We’re bailing.”
They jumped away like skipping stones to reach Chay who was directing Xane’s entrance clearing effort. Goro grabbed the biggest rock in their way and tossed it at the Wyrm. Poisonous tusks dashed across the room. Marcus’ weapon took them off their path.
Xane chuckled. “Abandoning two battles in the span of, what, ten minutes? What’s that gonna do to my reputation?”
Goro grunted. “Worried demons won’t find a coward fuckable?”
Xane glared.
The warlock cluster turned into an expanding storm of ethereal skulls.
“Shit,” Chay said. “Too late. Run!”
The magic projectiles found victims, often passing through them and finding another. Multiple bounced off the Wyrm, which was bleeding shimmering, white blood, the frog-head shattered and deformed.
There was no escape. The skulls homed in on the demigods, too, and no thrown weapon or rock was an obstacle. Goro felt a new curse dig itself into his flesh. His vision briefly faded. Marcus and Chay blacked out for real.
The cavern was mostly empty now.
The force field went down, ripped through by the curse projectiles. The mockery-tech machine sputtered.
Goro rushed in, brushing two casters aside hard enough to kill one.
He grabbed the tallest warlock by the collar and pulled him down to eye level.
“What was that?”
The Hellion behind the light helmet clawed into Goro’s arms, getting no reaction from the berserker.
“What. Was. That.”
“F-Feeding Fate.”
“Undo it.”
“That’s impossible. A curse, once ca-”
Goro threw the warlock into the ground so hard that the helmet shattered and the skull-head splattered apart. The corpse ran long the ground with the neck stump rubbing off like a crayon.
The mania-warrior grabbed the next one. “What does it do?”
“All hail Champi-” This warlock died even faster.
Goro raised the strange, sci-fi machine and started crushing it like a soda can over his head. “What does it *do*!”
“Food craving,” the nearest Hellion said quickly. “Starvation. No amount of food will prevent your demise by starv-”
“Undo it.”
“That’s imposs-”
Goro flung the crushed device at the warlock.
Xane put a hand on Goro’s arm. “Hey Big G, we need to grab the others and get out.”
Goro roared at the ceiling.
There was no point in raging. He had to follow the plan. Get out of here, destroy more vortexes, save humanity. He was in control.
“Fine,” he said, focusing on his breathing.
“You,” Xane gestured at a cowering caster. “You come along. Chay will know what to ask.”
Goro loaded the two groggy demigods onto his shoulders and walked after Xane, to the barricaded passage a mile away — to the next crucible.