Outcast Chapter 251 (Book 6 Chapter 36) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

9600 words, fresh off the presses.

--

??? Minutes Prior

"If I might make a recommendation," Duran said, in a wavering tone, "please refrain from giving the Blight any further ideas."

Rob mutely nodded, then leaned back to rest his head on the dirt wall behind them. They were laying inside a vast crater in the ground – a remnant of the Corrupted Cataclysm's wrath. At the moment, it felt closer to a holy sanctuary, having rescued their lives mere seconds before.

"Didn't think it would take me literally." A shudder passed through Rob as he recalled the enormous beam of mana fired from the Second Will's mouth, as wide as three houses stacked side-by-side. Only a panicked dive into the hole had saved him and Duran from instant annihilation. "Was just trying to trash talk."

"Yes, well...perhaps do a worse job of that next time."

At this rate, we'll be lucky to *get* a next ti–

NO HIDING.

Rob grabbed Duran and immediately leapt forward. A massive spike of Corruption burst up from where they'd been laying, tearing the ground to shreds. Dozens more appeared all around soon after, either forcing Rob to dodge and avoid getting skewered from below, or forcing him to change course as the Blight attempted to predict his next move. The spikes seemed to be intentionally boxing him in, gradually closing off his routes of escape.

Dauntless Repri...no. He couldn't afford to waste its precious two-minute cooldown on an attack that wouldn't kill him outright. Plus, a nullified spike would still knock him off-balance, leading to another one tagging him, so he'd just have to trust that he could keep evading them until the Second Will relented.

It was certainly a less daunting prospect than evading the Corrupted Cataclysm had been.

As he dodged spike after spike, Rob eyed the edge of the crater, marked by an upward-angled slope not far away. One good sprint should put him and Duran back above ground again. In theory, the Second Will would then change tactics to something more bombastic and interesting. It had only started spike spamming because its prey spent too long decompressing inside a hidey-hole.

Naturally, Rob prepared for his escape by cutting off his left hand.

Duran briefly tensed, yet said nothing – thankfully. A verbal utterance might've tipped off the Second Will. Pretty sure it doesn't have eyes on us, Rob thought. It can sense our mana, but not see our bodies. So while it knows our general location, and that we're about to pop into view...

Keeping the rest of his body out of sight, Rob held his severed hand above the lip of the crater. He jiggled it like bait cast into a river.

Fleshy tendrils rushed forward to skewer it. Severed body parts didn't benefit from system bonuses, so the hand was just a normal Human hand, completely unaffected by Vitality or defensive Skills. It was torn apart in less than a nanosecond, ripped from Rob's grip and leaving him holding a scrap of skin and meat.

"Gotcha, bitch." The BERSERKER sneered as he vaulted up. "Knew you'd try another ambush." His remaining hand glowing with the cleansing light of Purge Corruption. "Get new material."

His counterattack was perfectly timed. Unfortunately, without the MP for a Rampage, and with the Bracelet of Teleportation on cooldown, Rob's lunging speed was hampered by the limitations of mortal Dexterity. The Second Will was already retracting its tendrils when Purging fingers grazed Corrupted flesh. Their contact lasted for merely half a second. Enough to expend 5% of Rob's energy stores, but nothing more.

The monster hissed as tiny sections of its body were burnt away in a flash. Other parts started to bubble, as if cooked on a grill for too long. Conversely, Rob's severed hand regrew – even just 5% of his Purging energy stores was worth thousands and thousands of HP healed via Lifesteal.

Have about 70% of Purge Corruption left. He frowned. Nowhere near enough to kill the Second Will. Rob tapped his freshly-grown fingers on his thigh, getting into something of a Mexican standoff with the Second Will as both waited to see what the other would do next.

Or maybe the creature was just taking a breather. While its Corruption may have been virtually infinite, its mana was not. Between the Cataclysm, the mouth laser, and everything else, its energy could be running low...relatively speaking. Might be something to capitalize on. Should try–

I OFFER A TRADE.

Rob's spine stiffened as the Second Will's cosmic intent washed over him. "What kind of trade?" he asked, with a mixture of cautious bravado. Making deals with the devil was usually a poor idea, but his track record with Blight-wrangling was actually pretty decent.

WE WERE PERPLEXED AS TO WHY YOU HAVE NOT APPROACHED WITH PURGING HANDS. UNDERSTAND NOW. Its tendrils rose up, then angled down, seeming to point to the Elder hitching a ride on Rob's back. YOU ARE PROTECTING MORIBUND SCHOLAR. OFFER TRADE. SCHOLAR WILL STAY WHERE HE IS NOW. I WILL REFRAIN FROM HARMING HIM IN ANY CAPACITY. IN EXCHANGE, FIGHT TO YOUR FULLEST.

Although he knew that godlike beings could err, it was a bit surreal to hear the Second Will make a claim that was dead wrong. Duran's safety hadn't really been a factor in why Rob was staying a healthy distance away from the abomination. Its overwhelming presence, choking aura of Corruption, myriad mouths, crushing limbs, and lethal bag of tricks all played a much larger role in that choice. Protecting himself at a safe range was already nigh-impossible.

If he got too close, he'd just fucking die.

Still...this was an opportunity they couldn't pass up, and it was about time for a change of pace, anyway. "Deal," Rob replied. He reached back, then grabbed and deposited a shocked Elder onto the ground. "As long as there's no loopholes."

A HYPOCRITICAL CONCERN, WHEN IT WAS THE MORIBUND SCHOLAR WHO INJURED HIMSELF TO MANIPULATE THE VOWS OF ONE OF MY FRAGMENTED SELVES.

"I'm totally fine with loopholes when they benefit me." Rob glanced at Duran, giving him an optimistic grin. "Hang tight, okay? I've got thi–"

"No," Duran seethed, "you certainly do not got this. Have you taken leave of your senses? Again?! The Blight is regenerating from any wounds not inflicted by Purge Corruption, and your energy stores are limited. Even if you were to fight like a man possessed, making no error and receiving no injury in turn, killing the Blight on your lonesome cannot be done."

Rob tilted his head. "In one day."

"...Beg pardon?"

"Purge Corruption replenishes as I take in ambient mana. Roughly 24 hours for it to go back to full. Gonna pull this estimate out of my ass, but if I were to use my full energy stores five or six times, I think that would be enough to put down the Second Will." Hopefully.

"Five or six...you intend to injure the Blight to your utmost capabilities, then repeatedly retreat and return, daily, for almost a week?"

Rob shook his head. "Can't. It would go back to Ascending while I'm gone, then break free from the Dungeon. I'll have to keep it busy in the meantime."

Duran gaped at him as if he was speaking in tongues. "For–"

"Five or six days, yes. Actually, let's call it an even seven. That's typically how our luck goes."

Silence dragged on as his statement left both a centuries-old Elder and an eons-old god at a loss for words.

Eventually, the Second Will's body rumbled with sonorous laughter, causing the ground to tremble like a minor earthquake. THIS IS WHY I LIKE YOU, HEARTKILLER.

"Yeah, you're not exactly someone I appreciate compliments from."

Duran clenched his fists. "Rob, please be reasonable. No one can fight for a week straight."

The BERSERKER shrugged in response. "I've pulled all-nighters before. Book report, eldritch abomination – what's the difference?"

A muted smack echoed across the Deadlands.

It took Rob a moment to realize he'd been struck by Duran. Partially due to his surprise, and partially because the aged Elf's strike felt incredibly weak, feeling closer to a passing breeze than a slap to the face. The Second Will rumbled again, but much lower this time, as if contentedly enjoying the drama unfolding before it.

"Stop! Doing that!" Duran was red-faced; more furious than Rob had ever seen him. "This plan is doomed to fail! No amount of gumption or determination shall see it through to victory! What must I say to make you understand the importance of your life? To me, and to those others who care for you? If you will continue to treat our love so lightly, then at least consider the strategic implications of this...this protracted suicide! Purge Corruption is the only ability that can slay the Blight – you are not allowed to fall in battle. For your plan to have the slightest chance at succeeding, it would make more sense for our alliance to occupy the beast as you safely rejuvenate yourself."

"Everyone would die," Rob whispered, quietly.

"Then we die. That is the road we chose to walk as Combat Class users. All who have embarked upon this journey know that well."

Rob hung his head. After several moments, he chuckled. "What was it you said a couple weeks back? That thing your spymaster warned you about? Never put two stubborn fools on a mission together. They'll spend so much time trying to outdo each others' heroics that both will jump into an early grave with cries of 'Save Yourself!' on their lips."

"That's–"

"He was right." Rob clapped Duran on the shoulder, nodded, and then turned to face the Second Will. "Sorry, but I'm staying. Not budging on this one."

AS EXPECTED. The creature seemed to titter with glee, its mass of flesh rolling like ocean waves. YOU ARE PATHOLOGICALLY INCAPABLE OF ABANDONING THESE MORTALS. THEY HAVE BOUND YOU WITH CHAINS OF COMPANIONSHIP.

Rob narrowed his eyes. "Gotta say – I'm unimpressed. You're 0-for-2 on predicting my thoughts. While yes, I wouldn't ever abandon my friends, it's not why I'm rolling with this plan."

He paused. "Question. Do you know what's happening on Earth?"

WHERE ON EARTH? INCARNATING INTO THIS FORM HAS LIMITED MY COMMUNICATION WITH THE FEW PARTITIONS REMAINING ELSEWHERE.

"So that's a no." Rob drew his sword, pointing it like an arrow aimed at the Second Will's heart. "Won't spoil the surprise, but as a teaser? I'm not expecting to have to fight for the whole week."

Because I've got a man on the inside.

In objective terms, he was fully aware that he was making a bad bet. There were plenty of reasons to believe that Jason's assistance wouldn't amount to anything. A Blight was guarding the Spire on Earth, and Jason's Party had never fought one before. By all rights, they were likely to lose. Even if Jason's Party somehow did win, there was no guarantee that destroying one single Spire would affect the Second Will to a degree that mattered.

If it was anyone else leading that charge, Rob would've gambled on a different plan. But this wasn't just anyone.

It was Jason.

And Jason, come high or hell water, was a friend who pulled through when it counted.

The thought had barely entered Rob's mind when the Second Will suddenly exploded.

Part of it, at least. Roughly one-fourth of its flesh ruptured in an instant, expelled outward by an internal force, as if ten thousand Riardin Specials had ignited within. The effect was immediate and dramatic, leaving little time to process what had just happened. Chunks of Corrupted offal rained down from the sky, some flying so far out that they splattered at Rob's feet and stained the tips of his boots.

He and Duran stood there, mouths open, stunned into silence. Even the Second Will declined to comment, its eyes staring at its ruined body with evident surprise.

No one moved, and no one spoke. This wasn't a Mexican standoff – just pure, unfiltered shock.

Of course, Kismet chose that moment to come roaring back into Rob's head. Your damage reversed!

Slow down. His thoughts were still spinning. What reversed?

Previously, the Blight was being healed by a flow of external energy, which acted as stitching to bind its wounds. That energy has disappeared, and thus, its stitchings have ripped. All injuries that you and your allies dealt have returned.

Rob's eyes widened as he realized what that meant. His Dauntless Reprisal reflections, Ragnavi's Annihilation, the alliance's spells and arrows...the damage from those attacks was back. And without the Second Will's unnatural regeneration, this time, its wounds were here to stay.

Before Kismet could continue, Dimensional Message activated. Rob shooed the god out of his mind and picked up the far more important call. "I'm guessing you won?"

<"It's done,"> Jason answered, speaking in a clipped tone. <"Broke the Spires. That help on your end?">

"More than I ever could've hoped for." Rob smiled. "Thanks, man."

<"Least I could do for you. Just...be careful.">

"Don't worry." He aimed a predatory stare at the wounded beast before him. "You did your part. Now? It's *my* turn."

Rob ended their Message right as the Second Will found the wherewithal to speak. WHAT ARTIFICE IS THIS? The creature attempted to lift a damaged limb, the appendage snapping in half as it crumbled under its own colossal weight. WHAT DID YOU DO, HEARTKILLER?

"Who, me?" He adopted an air of innocence. "I didn't do anything. A friend of mine was kind enough to even the odds, though. No more endless regeneration. That's my shtick, and you can't have it."

At once, as if possessed by the spirit of the grim reaper itself, all levity vanished from his now-cold tone. "We've finally reached the starting line of this fight."

Skill Activated: Illusion Resistance!

Rob focused his thoughts on the rest of his allies. He imagined banners responding to the call of war. He imagined swords singing and spells slinging. He imagined Elves, Dwarves, and Dragonkin, banded together as one in defiance of a foe beyond comprehension.

He imagined Riardin's Rangers, by his side.

The rest of the alliance flickered into existence...hundreds of feet away. Close enough. Rob went to grab the radio, but Duran had already beat him to it.

"Attack now!" the Elder shouted. "Don't let up until the Blight is no more than a distant memory! This is our best chance – nay, our only chance! Seize your destiny, or watch in horror as the world falls to ruin!"

His rallying cry was answered by spells, arrows, and Sylpeiros' lightning spear flying directly towards the Second Will. Lines of Corrupted flesh were shorn off. Not much, but each attack added up bit-by-bit.

And unlike before, none of its injuries were healing.

Rob activated Step of the Wind, gave Duran a quick salute, and sprinted forward. He didn't have the range to contribute from a long distance away. Getting near the Second Will was practically a death sentence, but if the alliance was distracting it...maybe he'd be able to slip in some Purging touches without getting immediately eviscerated in response.

The Second Will seemed to understand that as well. Its eyes swiveled around to glare at Rob as he approached. A second later, ten spheres of Blight-flesh crashed onto the ground in front of him. They were ordered in a line to block his advance, rapidly morphing into Blightspawn, each Level 80 at minimum. Rob tried to skirt past them, but spikes of Corruption emerged from the ground beneath his feet, herding him towards the newborn creatures.

He was honestly fine with that. Killing monsters spawned from the Second Will was the same as harming it directly. If it never got that flesh back, then he'd essentially carved a chunk of meat out of its body. His only concern was about what it would do to his allies while he was busy fending off Blightspawn.

Rob's heart soared as he saw the Second Will raise a pair of monstrous limbs, preparing to hammer down on the alliance with the force of two falling skyscrapers. That was bad, yet it was much better than some of the alternatives. The alliance couldn't have defended against a Cataclysm or a giant fuckoff mouth laser.

It confirmed his theory that the Second Will was running low on juice. Mana was a finite resource, even for incarnated deities. Maybe it still could've expelled a cloud of Corruption, but with Ragnavi holding her Annihilation in reserve, it was probably hesitant to try when she'd proven strong enough to counter that move.

Sloppy, Rob mused. Inefficient. The correct strategy would've been to ready a miasma cloud, endure the Annihilation hit, then ready another cloud soon afterwards. Annihilation's cooldown was almost definitely longer than the time it took for the Second Will to whip up a fresh batch of Corruption. Cooldown management was one of the first lessons a fledgling Combat Class user learned, so any fighter with proper training and experience would've easily been able to recognize this.

But the Second Will wasn't a fighter. It was a creature, a monster, a beast, a thing. Natural disasters didn't learn how to fight; they simply came and destroyed as they pleased. Battle strategies more complicated than 'set an ambush' weren't necessary when effortlessly devouring worlds. For the extent of the Second Will's eternally long lifespan, it had never needed to carefully scrutinize its prey, never been backed into a corner.

Until now.

"Time for a lesson in resource management," Rob mumbled. He ran as fast as he could, avoiding spikes of Corruption and the fangs of ten angry Blightspawn. "Always remember the Skills your opponents have. If they aren't using them, ask yourself why."

He came to a stop, letting the abhorrent creatures surround him on all sides. "Here's an example."

Living Bomb.

A flash of blazing heat expanded outward. For several wondrous seconds, Rob became the center of a massive explosion, fire and wrath consuming everything around him. His lips crept up into a savage grin as the Blightspawn were reduced to kindling, then ashes, then nothing. Huge quantities of EXP flowed into his soul, taking him halfway from Level 97 to 98.

When the Bomb had dissipated, Rob was left standing alone in a crater of his own making. "No Duran riding piggyback means this is on the table again," he remarked, eyeing the Second Will with overt amusement.

The creature politely replied with another spike of Corruption appearing below Rob's feet. Then it was back to dodging and running.

He'd gotten off easy compared to the rest of the alliance. Apparently, the Second Will was very unhappy that they'd returned. In addition to striking at them with two colossal limbs, it had sent an additional ten Leader-tier Blightspawn to menace them, all while ambushing random soldiers with more spikes from below – which some people weren't quick enough to avoid.

Yet despite being unable to help out, Rob felt less worried than any other time he'd seen the Second Will turn its attention towards the alliance. Riardin's Rangers, Ragnavi, Sylpeiros, and the remaining soldiers could handle a pack of tough Blightspawn. Danger Sense from Keira and Sylpeiros would keep the Corruption spikes casualties from getting out of hand. As for the flesh-sized skyscrapers descending upon them...

Unlike gods, we've learned how to fight when we're cornered. From hundreds of feet away, he gave his Party a confident nod. Two specific Skills. One for each arm. You know what to do.

The Second Will's left arm came perilously close to flattening half the alliance – before being turned aside by Zamira's Deflect. Similar to Dauntless Reprisal, its reality-warping properties allowed it to nullify any single attack, although Deflect didn't have the added benefit of reflecting the hypothetical damage that attack would have dealt. It still stopped the Second Will's limb cold, the massive appendage quivering in mid-air, like a scandalized debutante that had been slapped by an upstart challenger.

It was an opportunity the alliance couldn't pass up. Meyneth cast Leap to jump dozens of feet upward, Faelynn and Sylpeiros hanging on either side of her arms. All three fighters landed atop the Second Will's monstrous limb.

Without delay, they ran forward, shredding Corrupted flesh as they went. Razor-sharp claws and a spear of lightning cleaved through the Second Will with savage brutality. There was no care given to searching for a potential weak spot – only dealing damage for damage's sake. In that moment, they were not seasoned Combat Class users utilizing complex strategy; just butchers hacking away at a defenseless lump of meat.

Their charge lasted for a scant few seconds. The Second Will soon began retracting its limb, then shifted its flesh around to try to entrap the three, forcing them to jump off as wriggling vines of Corruption grasped at their ankles. However, that brief period was long enough to make an impact. The upper part of its monstrous limb now looked torn to pieces. Meyneth, Faelynn, and Sylpeiros had managed to inflict heavy wounds upon the Second Will.

And upon themselves. Mostly Meyneth and Faelynn – their claws were melting from concentrated Corruption exposure. Faelynn appeared as if she was about to keel over and vomit, her Fiendish biology rendering her especially vulnerable. All three, Sylpeiros included, had lost their footwear, the Second Will's aura eating straight through to the soles of their feet.

HP Potions were distributed in an attempt to regenerate Meyneth and Faelynn's claws, but Rob wasn't sure that would work without an accompanying Purge Corruption. Both women were likely pseudo-crippled until he could rejoin the Party and cure them.

He would've spent more time worrying about that if there wasn't another awe-inspiring sight occurring right beside the first. Everything with Zamira, Meyneth, Faelynn and Sylpeiros was just what had happened to the Second Will's left limb.

Its right limb forged an entirely different tale. Shortly before Zamira used Deflect, Orn'tol had fired a Temporal Arrow up into the air. His shot collided with the rightmost appendage, freezing it in place well above everyone's heads. That should have been the end of it. Limb gets frozen, alliance moves out of the way before it unfreezes, Second Will's attack misses, it pulls back, no harm, no foul.

What happened next defied all expectations. Orn'tol's Temporal Arrow – which in the past had fully immobilized whatever creature it struck, including a freaking Leviathan – found itself scaling an impossibly tall mountain. The Skill's freezing effect raced up the Second Will's titanic limb, first quickly, then slower, slower...

Until it finally fizzled out. Whereas abilities like Dauntless Reprisal or Deflect were all-or-nothing, Temporal Arrow, it seemed, was not. It had a limit on how much of an object it could freeze. They'd just never fought something large enough to reach that limit before today.

A sickening SQUELCH resounded over the battlefield. With horrified awe, Rob watched as the Second Will's limb was severed where Orntol's Temporal freeze effect ended. The part of its limb that had been frozen stayed frozen, locked in place mid-air, and the part that wasn't frozen...kept moving. Dozens of bulbous eyes peered up from the Second Will's main body, staring at its new stump with no small amount of disbelief.

Seconds passed. The limb unfroze. It fell not with the force of a battering ram, but with the dull splat of dead meat unceremoniously dropped onto a cold stone floor.

Slowly, it began to stir.

The alliance was faster. They set upon the fallen limb like a school of high-Level piranhas, ravaging its perimeter with methodical efficiency, gradually moving inward as they turned literal tons of Corrupted meat into flecks of nothing. Fast – but not fast enough. The innermost portion of the limb was yet untouched, its surface shifting into something that prickled Rob's eyes to look at.

Then Keira was above it, holding her greatsword steady as power built within. "RAGNAROK!" She slammed down onto the center of the limb, demolishing whatever horrid existence had nearly been birthed from an eldritch god's castoff flesh.

Her attack should have failed. Ragnarok took several drawn-out seconds to charge up, meaning it was borderline useless against an opponent able to react in time. The Second Will could have knocked her out of the air with a sphere of flesh. Hell, it could have delayed the alliance's rampage by doing the same to them, or merely by harassing them with Corruption spikes from underground.

It did none of those things. The creature was frozen – not from a Temporal Arrow, but from sheer, unbridled indignation.

INTERLOPERS. It spat the word like a hated slur. WE HAVE WAITED...I HAVE WAITED...SO LONG. SO LONG. SO LONG, TO *FEEL*. THE HEARTKILLER IS UNIQUE. IT WILL BE INFINITE EONS BEFORE WE MEET ANOTHER OF HIS ILK. YOUR PRESENCE DENIGRATES A SACRED CONVERGENCE OF WILLS.

Its mouths screeched in unison, almost bursting one of Rob's eardrums. THIS IS NOT. WHAT WE. DESIRED.

"SO FUCKING WHAT?!" Step of the Wind's aura encircled Rob's feet as he sprinted forward, yelling so loudly that it hurt his throat. "WHY SHOULD WE CARE WHAT YOU WANT? DID THE COUNTLESS PEOPLE YOU MURDERED WANT TO DIE? TAKE THAT WHINING AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS! I AM JUST SICK AND TIRED OF YOU SELF-PITYING PSYCHOPATHS!"

It was of those lovely moments where business intersected with pleasure. Because while Rob had primarily spoken up to distract the Second Will, diverting its attention towards him and away from the alliance...he'd also meant every word he said.

All of the creature's misshapen heads and eyes turned to glower at him. Although parsing emotional intent from a twisted abomination was a crapshoot at best, Rob would have bet his life savings that the Second Will looked both offended and betrayed. EVEN YOU DISAPPOINT ME, HEARTKILLER?

"You wanted to know what it was like to be mortal." He spread his arms wide as he ran. "Welcome to the club. We disappoint each other and keep on trucking. That's life."

The Second Will shot another ten flesh spheres at him. They crashed into the ground and swiftly transformed into a squadron of Level 80+ Blightspawn blocking Rob's path. Not to punish him – simply to delay his charge, so that their conversation could last longer.

YOU POSSESS AGELESS AND LIFEDRINKER. WITH THOSE ABILITIES, INFINITY IS WITHIN YOUR GRASP. YOU ARE THE CLOSEST MORTAL TO COMPREHENDING MY EXISTENCE.

It seemed to hesitate. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS TO SAVOR THESE MOMENTS OF REVELRY? THE SPLOTCHES OF COLOR THEY ADD TO AN ENDLESS TAPESTRY OF GREY?

Rob unleashed his Imbue Vitality combo on the nearest Blightspawn as he fled from the other nine. Truth or lie? he pondered, lamenting how Living Bomb was on cooldown. What'll keep the Second Will distracted?

In the end, Rob chose to speak from the heart. While his poker face was getting better by the minute, he doubted it was good enough to fool a near-omnipresent god. "I could probably try to understand if I wanted to," he confessed, "but I don't, so I won't. My empathy is reserved for those who deserve it."

He sent a baleful, caustic glare at the Second Will. "World-killers don't qualify. All I feel towards you is hatred. That's all I'll ever feel. Deal with it."

For the third time that day, an incomprehensible creature from beyond the stars was silenced by words alone.

The alliance finished butchering the fallen limb. They changed targets to the Second Will's main body, pelting it with spells and arrows from afar. Its bloated, veiny eyes swiveled back and forth, switching between staring at Rob and the alliance. Massive mounds of flesh trembled violently, as if overwhelmed by mounting fury.

Until finally, all of a sudden – it ceased. The eyes closed, and the flesh calmed.

A decision had been reached.

SO BE IT.

The Second Will's form began to mold and reshape, a massive opening appearing at the top of its body. Rob's pulse skyrocketed as he recognized what was happening, and his fears were confirmed a moment later when Corrupted energy began accumulating within.

Their invisible timer – the Second Will's patience – had expired. It was forming another localized Cataclysm.

Fitting, for what would signify Elatra's end.

Rob barely managed to tamp down his rising panic. Freaking out wouldn't help anyone. Quick Thinking hastened his thoughts once more, and he hurriedly scrutinized the Second Will for something, anything that could be categorized as a weakness.

What he saw granted him a sliver of relief. This Cataclysm wasn't forming as quickly as the first. The Second Will was still low on mana, especially after Jason had cut off its access to the bonus energy being sent from Earth. It would need to gather more before launching the next Cataclysm. There was time to...

To...

Deactivate Illusion Resistance? No. Even if alliance disappears, won't matter. Second Will is pissed. It'll ensure that they get hit in all perceptions of reality. Vast majority of alliance will perish. Fight likely unwinnable afterwards.

He spared a cursory glance for his Character Sheet. Chances of my survival: slim. Have MP for one Rampage. Nothing more. Will get tagged. Then fight *definitely* unwinnable.

It was highly possible that the sole survivor might end up being Elder Duran. The Second Will had promised not to kill him as long as he didn't budge from his spot, and there was no defined limit attached to its vow. He would become the last remaining person on Elatra; a solitary vigil presiding over the ruined husk of what had once been his world.

...Use Duran as a shield from Cataclysm rays? Couldn't harm me without harming him. Rob briefly considered the idea, then summarily discarded it. That was too blatant of a loophole, and the Second Will wasn't in any sort of mood to entertain shenanigans.

He bit his lip, piercing the skin, using mild pain to re-center his thoughts. Stop avoiding the facts. In truth, the Cataclysm represented a losing condition. If it went off – game over. Instead of devising plans to survive the miniature apocalypse, he needed to think of a way to prevent it from being unleashed in the first place.

What else could he do? What else did he have?

Purge Corruption. Rob ducked under a Blightspawn's scythe-like arm, dashing forward towards the Second Will. When there's a nail, use the hammer.

He grimaced at the Second Will's towering form. 70% of my Purging stores remain. Woefully insufficient to kill it. Have to try anyway. Maybe disrupt Cataclysm. Buy us time.

It was the only glimmer of hope they had left.

A hulking, four-armed Blightspawn moved to block his path. Rob expended 50 MP to use the single Rampage available to him, rushing past the beast and bisecting its torso with his longsword. That wouldn't put it down for the count, but a distraction was all he wanted. Slaying Blightspawn was a distant second concern versus reaching the Second Will.

Be ready for more obstacles. Corruption spikes, extra Blightspawn, new abilities. It'll try to delay–

Without warning, Rob was yanked back.

He instinctively tried swinging his sword, but the grip around his right arm was like an iron vice, sealing his freedom of movement. His other arm and both legs were grabbed shortly afterward. Glancing behind, he saw the top half of the hulking Blightspawn he'd just cut in half. It was floating, freaking floating, completely unbothered by the minor inconvenience of being down half a torso.

Rob struggled to break free. While he gave a good effort, it was predictably in vain. Perhaps things would've been different if he was someone like Keira, but he simply hadn't invested that many points into Strength. Didn't help that Bulk Up was 'br@#oKeN'. In the past, Skills br@#oKeN by the Blight had taken hours to return to normal.

You asked for this. With a thought, Rob activated the Flames of Vengeance. An azure inferno erupted around him, engulfing the Blightspawn in searing wounds that – due to the Skill's secondary effect – could not be healed or regenerated. Flesh bubbled and popped, the creature's scales sloughing off as its body was rapidly consumed.

It didn't care. Pushing through the Flames, the Blightspawn grew a fifth arm and shoved it straight towards Rob's face. The appendage morphed from solid meat to a gelatinous, gooey substance, Corrupted flesh attempting to slither up Rob's nostrils and into his ear canals. At the same time, the remaining Blightspawn closed in, ready to tear their hapless prey to pieces.

Fuck. FUCK. As a pit of dread formed in his stomach, Rob activated Purge Corruption, spending priceless energy to annihilate the monster and free himself. The other Blightspawn were upon him a moment later. Unable to escape, he Purged them all one-by-one, roaring in defeat as he erased their stain from the fabric of the world.

Reached Level 98!
5 Stat Points Gained!

Berserker Level Increased! 97 → 98

Leveling High's containment has reduced from 60% to 55%!

Despite the manufactured bliss invading his mind, and despite being a single Level away from 99, it was the most hollow Level-up he'd ever received. Not even Leveling High seemed to derive much joy from it.

Reaching 98 didn't goddamn matter when his Purge energy stores were now down to 40%.

Rob deactivated the Flames of Vengeance and held his head in his palms, a demented peal of laughter bursting from his throat. Guess that cures my delusions of grandeur. Purge Corruption wouldn't have stopped the Cataclysm regardless. Was just latching onto whatever I could.

He ran his hands down his face, peering up at the Second Will. It wasn't sending more Blightspawn at him yet, probably wanting to conserve its mass, but he knew that if he took even one step forward, their bloody waltz would start all over again. Round and round they'd go, nothing changing–

Until the curtains fell, and everything came to an explosive finish.

With vacant eyes, Rob examined the creature's enormous body. If he compared the Second Will to how it had looked at the beginning of their fight, then he'd destroyed...half of it. Maybe. Being generous.

That was all. He and the alliance had deflected hundreds of thousands of damage. Cleansed the Second Will with Purge Corruption. Manipulated its compulsions. Devastated it with an Annihilation beam. Rained it with a hailstorm of spells and arrows. Had Jason sabotage it from across dimensions. Ruined several limbs. Ripped off another. Slain its Blightspawn. Pulled out all their best moves, every trick in their extensive book.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't even close to enough.

How? With a vague sense of disbelief, Rob shook his head. No. I won't accept this. After everything we've been through...why can't we win? Why is it still so far *above* us?

{Because you need more power}, Leveling High whispered. {A simple answer – yet always true.}

More power.

Inspiration struck Rob like a divine bolt of lightning. Standing firm, he raised his head to the sky, drew a deep breath, and shouted with every fiber of his being.

"KISMET!"

The god entered his mind in a hurry. What–

"You can't kill the Second Will, right?!" He gestured wildly towards the abomination. "Not enough energy or fucking whatever?"

It would mean our death. And even if we were to try, we lack the mana–

"Guaranteed self-destruction, got it." Rob's teeth were almost chattering with nervous energy, as if he'd downed ten energy drinks in five minutes. "You can't use your mana. That's why you need Purge Corruption. It kills faster, and the energy I spend isn't lost."

Is there a point to–

"My Purge energy stores are replenished by filtering mana. Mini-Locus inside me does it. Slow process. Gradual. Automatic."

His mouth split into a wide, manic grin. "Let's kickstart it. Give me mana. Directly. Inject it into my soul. Stimulate the mini-Locus. More mana, more Purge energy."

Kismet emanated shock so deep that it could be felt all the way from the divine realms. You can't be–

"I'm serious. You got any better ideas? Me neither." Rob jabbed a finger at his heart. "Do it. Can kill Second Will. You won't permanently lose mana. Win-win."

Stop interrupting, Human! Kismet's presence frayed, as if he was struggling to keep up with the BERSERKER's pace. This is untested! And if it works, IF it works, the damage done to your soul will undoubtedly be catastrophic. You are of no use to us dead. Rather than risk your ability on an absurd gambit, it would be wiser to expend some Influence to remove you from the battlefield, then–

"You think I can't take it?!" Rob let out a bestial snarl. "ALL I'VE DONE SINCE COMING TO THIS WORLD IS FUCKING TAKE IT! PAIN AND INJURIES AND HARDSHIP! I EAT THAT SHIT FOR BREAKFAST BY NOW! EITHER WE GO BIG OR WE GO HOME, AND DON'T PRETEND YOU BELIEVE OTHERWISE! SO STOP WHINING AND INJECT MY SOUL WITH UNTESTED MANA YOU SNIVELING LITTLE PUSSY!"

The god said nothing.

Seconds later, a portal appeared above Rob's head.

He welcomed the abrupt surge of mana as it flowed down and pierced through his chest. An intense burning sensation coursed through his veins, as if all of his nerve endings were being simultaneously set aflame. At first nothing else happened, and Rob was worried that he'd been wrong – right before he felt his Purging stores begin to fill. Slowly, then faster, then faster still. Within seconds, he was up to 101%, so full of energy that it felt like his body would pop like an overfilled balloon.

And it was amazing. Rob stared at his shaking hands, eyes sparkling with zeal. The previous Blights would have been demolished if he'd fought them with this much Purging energy. He had never felt more powerful than right here, right now. This was–

Status Effect Gained: Soul Instability (Low)!

–Something he should wrap up quickly.

Ten spheres of Corrupted flesh crashed nearby. New Blightspawn to keep him busy. The Second Will had noticed what was going on.

Too little, too late. Rob flourished his longsword and extended Purging energy to the hilt and blade, suffusing it with cleansing light. It was a maneuver that would've drained a decent amount of energy before. Now? Just a drop from a saturated bucket.

He almost fired off a poignant one-liner, but decided against it. Speaking would waste valuable time, and he didn't believe that monsters like the Second Will deserved that sort of gravitas. Not when trillions had died meaningless deaths. The best way to honor those lost souls was to raise his blade, advance forward, and quietly execute their murderer. He would obliterate its essence, expunge its atoms – until nothing remained.

As if it had never existed.

The Heartkiller charged forth. In an instant, ten Leader-Level Blightspawn were reduced to faint wisps of lingering pestilence. Twenty flesh spheres chased him soon after, followed by spikes of Corruption from underground. The terrain shifted as the Second Will exerted its fundamental control over the Deadlands, turning dirt to lava and the air into glass shards.

The Heartkiller kept charging forth. Twenty Blightspawn were slain in the blink of an eye, like wasps fried with a bug zapper, nudging him towards Level 99. The spikes of Corruption were incinerated by the corona of Purging light surrounding him. He sidestepped the sudden paths of lava, heated air convection charring his skin as glass shards filled his lungs.

Cute. Compared to the resplendent agony of the gods' mana infusing his soul, sensations like those were little worse than tickles.

His charge continued. Twenty more Blightspawn slain. Thirty. Geysers of sharp-edged Corruption from underneath. A meteor of flesh from above. The terrain shifted into every hazard imaginable. Lava, glass, poison, acid, null space, gravity wells. Rob ran, and the Second Will did all it could to hinder him.

He wasn't sure who was winning their race. While his progress was steady, his time was also limited. Rob could feel his soul creaking under the weight of divinity, like a ramshackle stilt house battered by a hurricane. And with each second that passed, the Corrupted Cataclysm gathered more mana. It was nearly as big as the first one had been when it unleashed.

Oh well. No point in agonizing. Couldn't afford distractions. Either he'd beat the buzzer, or he wouldn't.

A shapeless Blightspawn threw itself at Rob. He wasn't even giving them the time to transform before ending them. With one swing, the sword of Purging light erased a Level 87 monster from reality, Corrupted flesh turned to nothingness. Its EXP would've been a huge windfall for any other Combat Class user, but not for someone who was already Level 98. The distance from 98 to 99 was exponentially higher than any Level before. He'd have to kill hordes of Leader-tier Blightspawn to clear that last hurdle.

Although...he was kinda getting there. The Second Will had entered full-on panic mode, ignoring the rest of the alliance completely as it flooded Rob with obstacles. Perhaps it was trying to exhaust his energy stores, but whenever his momentum began to flag, the gods were kind enough to grant him another generous donation of mana. There was no chance of him running out of Purging energy anytime soon.

Status Effect: Soul Instability has increased from Low to Moderate!

His soul would collapse well before that.

Getting closer. It was like swimming against the tides. A band of monsters would be slain, and twice as many would take their place. Rob would leap forward, and the Second Will would remove the ground underneath him. It even attempted to spew a cloud of Corruptive miasma at him, yet that merely washed over his Purge-wreathed body, gentle as a harmless breeze. He had become what the Second Will was to every world it visited – an implacable, unstoppable force of nature, relentless in its drive to slaughter that which stood before it.

On the outside, at least. Internally, his fury and hatred had condensed into a diamond of pure loathing, so refined that it was as pristine as an undisturbed snowfall. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, but solely to help his body move faster. Any in-the-moment passion he might have felt was set aside for cold purpose, bereft of mercy.

The Second Will needed to die. It deserved to die.

And so it would.

Rob swung his sword – and found that there were no Blightspawn to slay. He'd grown so used to the sight of squirming abominations in front of him that their absence was jarring. Why had the Second Will stopped spawning them? Was it attempting to conserve mass? Now, of all times?

Then he noticed his EXP. It was on the very cusp of Level 99, less than one monster away from reaching the apex of a Combat Class user's potential. The Second Will had held off to prevent him from getting even stronger.

A mocking laugh escaped his throat. While he couldn't fault the Second Will's logic, its Blightspawn had been reasonably effective at stalling him – through sheer numbers, if nothing else.

Without them, his way forward was open.

The Second Will seemed to realize that at the same moment as him. Its mouths opened, letting out a roar of frustration that quickly grew in sound and intensity, loudening until it became a scream resonating across the Deadlands. HEART. KILLER. HEARTKILLER!

Its body moved, like a mountain taking a step forward.

ROB!

RIIIIPP.

Rob was briefly stunned by an absurd sound invading his ear canals, as if a gigantic slab of meat had been torn in half. The Second Will was no longer tethered to its Dungeon. In an act of rage and desperation, it had physically ripped itself free.

One glance at the bottom 'edge' of its body explained why it hadn't done so sooner. The section that used to be attached to the Dungeon was rapidly leaking blood, Corruption, and various fluids that Rob didn't have a name for. Pieces of its body froze like dead pixels on a screen, then winked out of existence. Its condition worsened considerably in just several short milliseconds, more tissue leaking and bits disappearing. Detaching itself mid-Ascension had not been a wise long-term choice.

Not that the Second Will seemed especially preoccupied with the long term. It turned to face Rob, ravenous hunger gleaming on its many faces.

PREY.

In an instant, a towering mountain of flesh was upon him. Rob expelled as much Purging energy as he could, surrounding himself in a protective shield of cleansing light. Wherever the Second Will touched, Corruption was burnt away. He pushed energy through the shield, injecting it straight into the Second Will's body, expunging large swathes of vile meat.

Power Slash partially br@#oKeN!

Step of the Wind partially br@#oKeN!

Yet even now, there was just so much of it. Merely being in close proximity was eroding his Skills. If he and the alliance hadn't significantly diminished the Second Will's HP through their various efforts, it would have smothered Rob almost immediately. As it was, he was barely managing to hold on, his shield at risk of failing entirely.

Worse, the Second Will seemed to have strengthened its resistance to Purge Corruption since he'd last touched its main body. Had it continued Ascending in secret? Rob wasn't about to ask. All he cared about was that he wouldn't be able to finish it off in the next few seconds.

Because the Corrupted Cataclysm was nearly complete. Within those few seconds, the curtains would fall at last.

Regrow Limb partially br@#oKeN!

Enmity partially br@#oKeN!

The protective shield shrunk, crumpling under an impossible burden. Rob's nerve endings had gone numb. He shoved more Purging energy into the Second Will, pushing beyond what felt safe–

Alert: Soul Instability on the verge of increasing to Fatal!

And the moment he tried, he was warned that doing so would kill him. His soul simply couldn't endure the amount of Purging energy necessary to kill an eldritch god, diminished or otherwise.

Clarity settled within his mind. Either he could stay the course and get flattened by the Second Will, living just long enough to watch the Corrupted Cataclysm devastate his friends and allies...

Or he could overload his Purging energy. That would take out a massive chunk of the Second Will's remaining flesh. It wasn't exactly in the best state right now; the rest of the alliance should be able to finish it off afterwards. Sure, he'd die from sticking his popcorn kernel of a soul in the Purging microwave, but he was dead regardless.

Rob suppressed a mental image of his lifeless corpse on the ground, willing his trembling hands to calm. It's a last resort. Need to try and think of something else first. Duran was right – too many people care about me. Can't just throw away my life at the drop of a hat.

We're all seeing the next sunrise *together*, goddamn it.

Quick Thinking went into overdrive. In one-tenth of a second, Rob considered and discarded fifteen separate plans. He contemplated every Skill, strategy, and angle he could envision. No idea was rejected, no matter how unlikely.

Yet none yielded even the slightest chance of success. And all the while, the Second Will continued to bear down upon him, coming closer to breaking his shield and crushing him whole.

Unconsciously, Rob began amplifying Purge Corruption energy within himself, as if testing the waters. Deadened nerve endings re-ignited with pain. The sensation didn't prevent him from considering another fifteen ideas.

There's something I'm missing. There HAS to be something. I refuse to die at the ass-end of nowhere, right on the verge of victory. Just need...one...final...push.

Plan number thirty was discarded. The shield wavered with stress. It wouldn't hold for much longer. He built up more energy within, his soul feeling a tad zesty.

Headsman partially br@#oKeN!

Tough Skin partially br@#oKeN!

Up to forty plans. All failures from their inception. More energy was stored, and more plans were discarded. Fifty now. His vision blurred, and his throat closed. Sixty.

Then a spiderweb of cracks spread through the shield, and he knew that he'd run out of time. The Heartkiller raised his sword of light and aimed it directly at the Second Will's center of mass. Even during that brief motion, he ran through another twenty ideas, searching for the miracle answer that would let him greet his loved ones with a smile on his face.

Until the very last moment, Rob never stopped clinging to life.

Light condensed at the tip of his sword. With vast quantities of Purging energy stored, and in the instant before he went to move...

Something caught his eye.

The Dragon Queen had flown close to him and the Second Will. She regarded them both with equal amounts of revulsion. Power was coalescing inside her draconic maw.

Rob and Ragnavi exchanged glances. Not an ounce of warmth or respect passed between them.

Just an understanding of what needed to be done.

"ANNIHILATION!"

Ragnavi's beam of destructive mana slammed into the Second Will. At the start of this fight, one Annihilation was something to shrug off. Now? The god's battered, weakened form was torn asunder, its flesh ravaged – and most importantly, pushed away from Rob.

He didn't waste a beat. Lowering his Purging energy to just under the maximum amount he could handle, Rob leaped into the air. His sword of light extended past the weapon's physical blade, growing many dozens of feet long. Enough to encompass what remained of the Second Will's body.

As he prepared, Ragnavi's Annihilation continued unabated. The rest of the alliance contributed with their own attacks, putting everything they had into one final assault. Mages fell unconscious as mana exhaustion took them. Archers used anything they could find as backup arrows. Frontline fighters braved severe Corruption poisoning just for the slightest opportunity to strike at the Second Will.

Their fervor represented the voices of everyone in Elatra. The young and the old, the weak and the strong, from every territory and every race – all were united in a single common goal. As if the world itself was crying out in protest of the atrocities committed upon its people.

The scourge that had plagued their lands would be brought to an end now.

Slowly, the Second Will's eyes turned to gaze up at Rob. In those decidedly alien orbs, he saw something new arise. The change was more of a surprise to the beast than him. In fact, the Second Will seemed almost mystified over what it was experiencing.

An emotion it had never felt before.

VICTORY IMPOSSIBLE, the Second Will muttered. ESCAPE IMPOSSIBLE. REBIRTH IMPOSSIBLE. THEN...WE SHALL DIE HERE? NOT AS A GAME. TRUE CESSATION. THAT IS...I...

...AM AFRAID. OF DEATH. THERE IS NO JOY. NO EXCITEMENT. JUST TERROR OF WHAT AWAITS WITHIN OBLIVION.

Its numerous eyes widened, the god coming to a realization that every other creature in existence knew from the moment they were born. I FEAR THE END.

"Yeah." Rob raised his sword. "That's what it feels like."

A radiant blade of light descended like a guillotine, colliding directly with the Cataclysm right before it could unleash. Purging energy cleansed the Corruption contained within, leaving just an orb of formless mana. Rob's extended blade continued down, sinking deeper into the Second Will's body.

He cut its flesh like a hot knife through butter.

PURGE.

All of his energy lanced outwards. The longsword exploded, shattering into shards of metal. Purge Corruption, Annihilation, and the alliance all attacked the Second Will as one.

Regeneration partially br@#oKeN!

Living Bomb partially br@#oKeN!

Illusion Resistance partially br@#oKeN!

A blinding flash of light engulfed the Deadlands. Rob was sent flying backwards, his body wracked with pain.

Then his thoughts were no more.

--

He awoke to Duran kneeling over him.

The Elder's concerned face was like a glass of freezing water dumped on Rob's head. Despite the fog shrouding his mind, he spoke before he'd even properly formed the words. "Is everyone okay?"

Upon seeing him awaken, Duran sighed with relief. "Yes, Rob. They are well."

"Thank Christ. How long was I out?"

"Scarcely a minute."

A full minute of helplessness, yet he was still breathing. "So...it's over?"

Duran smiled. "Take a look for yourself."

Gradually, Rob sat up. Even that small movement was difficult, his body feeling sluggish, weighed down by a debilitating fatigue. It was noticeable enough that he decided to open his Character Sheet to check on his HP and Status Effects.

Alert: Your Character Sheet is currently processing and cannot be accessed.

Processing what? He massaged his forehead. Speculate later. Need to see if... The thought was too anxiety-inducing to finish. With care, he turned around to look at where the Second Will had been.

Had been. Had. Nothing was there. Just empty space, barren soil, and the Dungeon entrance. Corruption lingered in the air, but the ubiquitous sense of dread that had pervaded the Deadlands was gone.

For several hushed seconds, neither he nor Duran spoke, as if confirming their hopes out loud would cause the opposite to happen.

"Where are the others?" Rob eventually asked. Finding those words took effort, like his brain was running on dial-up internet. "Can't see them."

"They disappeared shortly after..." Duran hesitated, exhaling. "After the Blight was excised. However, I have been in correspondence with them via radio. Your friends are largely unharmed. None of them perished in our last assault."

Then why aren't they here? Dimly, Rob recalled a system message saying that Illusion Resistance was br@#oKeN. That could be preventing the alliance from reuniting. A final Fuck You from a god laid low.

Whatever. Br@#oKeN Skills fixed themselves after a few hours, and with the Second Will's demise, its influence over the Deadlands would fade. Everyone could meet up later. All that mattered was that he was alive, and it was not.

Rob winced as Kismet abruptly barged through the front door of his mind. Its consciousness is gone!

Not so loud. Ugh. You're positive it's actually dead?

Some Corruption yet resides in the Deadlands and within that Dungeon. However, no soul or consciousness is attached to it. The Blight is dead. With so much of its lifeblood permanently expunged by Purge Corruption, it will never resurface. It has hounded us for longer than you could imagine, the specter of our inevitable extinction, and now...

Kismet paused. I will not thank you.

Good, 'cause the feeling is mutual. Rob perked up. Gotta go. Getting another call.

He punted Kismet out of his head and answered the incoming Dimensional Message. "Sup."

<"You fucking did it, man!"> Jason yelled, more hyped than ever before.

Rob blinked. "How did you know?"

<"Yeah so, full disclosure, was keeping a Blight busy. It shriveled up out of nowhere. Guessing that's related to stuff on your end.">

"How perceptive." A smirk crept up Rob's lips. "And accurate. The Blight is ten feet under." Saying that barely felt real. "You really came in clutch."

<"Me? Dude, you're the one who did all the hard parts."> Just then, Jason let out a note of annoyance. <"Shit, I think Dimensional Message is running out. Talk to you later?">

"Soon as I can." Rob clenched his fists, overcome with sudden emotion. "Thank you, Jason. I mean it."

<"Least I could do for you, man. Least I could do.">

Dimensional Message expired.

Rob took another look at the vacated Dungeon entrance. To be honest, he almost hadn't believed himself when he told Jason that the Blight was dead. He kept half-expecting the Second Will to pop up out of nowhere. It would laugh, do a little dance, eat some orphans – as a treat – and gloat about how happy it was that the Heartkiller had passed Test 1 out of 37. How none of this was over.

Yet...it was over. No matter how long he waited, nothing stirred.

The Deadlands was empty.

Eventually, Duran gingerly grabbed him by his shirt sleeve, presenting the radio. "You should speak with the alliance," he advised. "I don't believe they should be made to wait any longer."

Nodding absently, Rob accepted the radio and pressed Talk without thinking. It took him a second to remember that words existed. "Hey, everyone."

The radio was immediately bombarded with a dozen separate voices vying for attention. Keira was loudest, and girlfriend privileges let her cut to the front of the line. "Rob! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus and trampled by a gorebeast. Same old, same old."

She sighed with relief, mirroring Duran's reaction from before. "If you're well enough to make attempts at humor, then you should be fine. Is..."

Keira trailed off. Rob may have been operating with approximately two functioning brain cells, but he could still tell what she'd wanted to say. Is the Blight truly dead? Are we safe? Has this nightmare finally come to an end?

No one rushed to fill her pause. They were all waiting for Rob to make a statement. As the presiding Leader of the greatest victory in Elatra's history, what he said would be forever carved into their memories – if not the very annals of history.

"We kicked the Blight's ass. Drinks are on me when we get back home."

Satisfied, Rob handed the radio to Elder Duran and promptly flopped backwards.

As soon as he touched the ground, tears began freely streaming from his eyes.

It's over. My friends are alive. No more Blights. I...

Emotions surged within his overtaxed mind. Everything he'd kept inside for the sake of holding himself together came tumbling out all at once. It was too much, too fast.

But they'd won.

Rob choked out a laugh. He focused on that one singular thought.

The alliance had won.

It was worth it. Traversing the Deadlands, wading through hell...

All worth it.

Riardin's Rangers had won.

The Second Will was dead.

Elatra had won.

He had won.

--

Thanks for reading!