Breathe in. Breathe out.

One slow, steady breath after another.

In, smooth the ripples of emotions threatening to destabilize the mental network. Out, strengthen our mental links with my willpower.

Repeat with every breath. Think of nothing; just breathe.

However, I could not stop the external images that would occasionally burn through my mind. A snapshot from the perspective of one of the legionaries in the union showing the backs of the others in the tunnel mouth. Or an impression from a pulse of mental energy, when I could feel the glaring voids representing the minds and bodies of the beastkin standing in and around the pit…

Which was a glaring point that I had missed for quite some time. What is the difference between them and the wanderers? Focus and breathe, idiot! I mentally chastise myself, refocusing my mind. Breathe and check the ripples. Send my confidence and relaxed state to the legionaries and suppress every other emotion from spreading.

They were justifiably anxious and concerned at the situation we were in. It was all to be expected, as no one likes feeling trapped and useless, and we were both. Many were angry and wanted to rush out and fight to rescue the already dead and dying above while at the same time wishing to remain safe in the bunker.

The scout trainees knew all they could do was wait for the end. One way or another, this situation would end eventually, and we were not the ones who would decide how. If the beastkin wanted to kill us, they would. Everyone knew it, even if no one said it aloud. I tried to send the scout trainees to relax in shifts, though the results were mixed.

Even as I tried to push my forced calm mental state into the network, the group's emotions bled into me. My heartbeat began picking up its pace as my sympathetic anxiety and agitation grew. In and out. Breathe… nice and slow. Calm and in control. I reminded myself.

I saw through Traig's eyes as he sat with his back against the wall and looked at the three still figures laid out on the ground. They had died from their wounds while defending the pit, and we had managed to preserve their bodies. A feeling of guilty relief that it wasn't him tore through Traig for a moment before he forcefully settled down his emotions as he closed his eyes for a little rest.

I breathed, trying to calm my once again racing heart, and time passed. Then, I felt the frantic emotions and restless energy surge through the mental links again, swamping my efforts to spread a calm, soothing atmosphere.

The legionaries inside the small cavern stood, hands clutching the hilts of their swords as those in the front of the tunnel frantically fought. A pulse revealed a group of twenty or more beastkins attacking our little cave.

Not that the weight of numbers mattered much because only one or two beastkins could attack our passage at a time, but that was the whole point, wasn't it? With the combined efforts of the veterans, one beastkin could hardly even be called a fight, but that did not stop the frustrated emotions of those standing at the back watching. Because everyone knew that with enough time, we would be ground into nothing.

I tried to send out waves of calmness and patience to those waiting, but my efforts were quickly drowned out and ignored by their raging emotions. As the mental network of the union became more chaotic, flashes of people's sight flickered through my mind.

Someone thrust out low, drawing the beastman's attention to block, leaving him open to the stone slammed into his off-shoulder. The impact threw his spear to the sides, and the shield mate used the opportunity to stab his gladius into their neck.

The legionary in front of Joxin was breathing hard from fighting. She was too tired, and at his mental prompting, she accepted the truth. In silent coordination, she turned, sliding back while Joxin's sword arm swung out, deflecting a spear thrust to cover her retreat as he took her place.

A woman's hand hovered over an orb. She extended a mental strand from her hand to wrap around the smooth stone before pulling her arm up and back and throwing it forward. At the apex of the throw, she extended the tendril forward, propelling the projectile. The attacking beastkin blocked the stone with her wing in an attempt to cover her face, but the result was a broken wing and her being thrown to the side. Seizing the opening for a counterattack, Joxin lunged forward and caused another body to fall to the ground, their chest hacked open.

The death toll for the beastkins had steadily mounted, and now the bodies in the pit were stacked up to the knee. It was a bonus that the beastkins would have to spend time clearing out the dead, or they would have treacherous footing, though it wasn't all a plus for us. Along with our success, a serious problem popped up. The descending tunnel acted as a drain for all the blood, making our footing slippery as mud formed. While it hadn't caused any deaths yet, thanks to everyone having experienced such circumstances before, it was only a matter of time.

With no way to bring their advantages to bear, the beastkin could hardly make an attack before falling to our blades and stones. Hardly being the keyword there. Even with a mortal wound, their guts spilling onto the ground, or a sword through the chest, the beastkins would still jab their spears forward, wounding the legionaries.

When a death blow couldn't be landed with the first hit, the legionaries were forced to step farther up the tunnel to finish off our attackers. The closer they went to the exit, the more they had to deflect spears and stones thrown at them by those around the pit, not all of which could be blocked by our severely limited mental energy.

The bottom line was our wounds were building up. As minutes passed into close to an hour, the mass of beastkin above us never left or seemed to lessen, no matter how many we killed. We could even feel a short attempt to dig down to us before they gave up. To say the least, emotions were high, and exhaustion and constant anxiety were taking a toll.

With the latest attack, I tried to suppress and smooth out the emotions, but I was only a single person with limitations at the end of the day. One of those limitations was that my mental energy reserves were far less than any of the others, and I could only do so much regardless of my willpower… A problem I have run into countless times in the past. Unwilling to spend my last drops of energy and all my will in a pointless effort, I felt the union slowly slipping from my fingers as it destabilized.

But before the union entirely broke apart, the beasts in the pit looked up at a too-familiar piercing cry, and the assault on our little cave ended as they abruptly flung themselves into the sky. For a brief moment, everyone was elated with relief, and the union stabilized, as we were no longer being attacked and could leave the bunker.

With the sounds of our grunts of effort and blades striking against wood, quieting to only our irregular breathing, the distinct noise of a distant battle found its way to us. We could clearly distinguish screams, shouts, and explosions of a raging and frantic struggle off in the distance. The source has to be fro—

Without warning, the world seemed to stutter, and our breath hitched as the very air seemed to thicken and press down. Suddenly, our moment of reprieve shattered, and the gnawing emotions from a moment before came back with a vengeance. It was like adding oil to smoldering embers, and under the influence of the strange pressure, the union ignited like a wildfire.

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Surges of emotions from different people spread through the union, amplifying each other as they came into contact and sparking new thoughts and feelings that also rippled out in waves. As the legionaries' fears and jagged feelings fed upon each other, new peaks of passion were reached. On instinct, I tried to clamp down on the network, to send out emotions counter to what everyone was feeling, but my efforts were fruitless and only caused more problems for me.

"Ahh!" I gasped as I lost control of the union, slumping to the side and then to the ground as it felt like someone kicked me in the head. I lay still for long moments as my mind slowly reordered itself. The backlash from losing control hurt, but I had suffered worse before, and I knew it would all pass.

What didn't help was a wave of exhaustion crashing down, slowing and stagnating my thoughts, making thinking and staying awake more challenging. I guess the saving grace was that while mental energy was little more than a few specks floating in my mind, I really wasn't exhausted, not physically. Or mentally, for that matter… once I bothered to think back to my recent experiences.

When the world stopped spinning, I sat up and looked around. Everyone looked beaten down and a little pale in the no longer-so-dim light, but at least they were all still standing, weariness and resolve radiating off them in equal measure. I did note that there wasn't so much resolve that someone was willing to remain in the cave passage anymore, as all of the scout trainees had retreated to huddle in the chamber with me.

Not that I could blame them, as I could see why they fell back. It was the fear of the unknown. The ominous feeling right before the union broke wasn't just in my mind or a temporary wave of pressure from some enormous casting.

Invisible energy prickled at my skin like the static charge of a thunderstorm. Except there was no noise, and I had never heard of a thunderstorm appearing in seconds. There was also the little clue of the pale yellow light consuming the world outside and seeping ominously into the chamber.

None of the trainees knew what it was, but we could instinctually tell it wasn't natural and, thus, probably not friendly. I could taste the fear radiating from their minds. But the energy was… familiar to me. I had felt something like it before. I had to know. I had to see what was happening, and it was more than just my duty compelling me. An unquenchable curiosity pushed me forward.

Getting up, I looked towards the passage, its far end calling out to me, "Move." I said to those blocking my way. I didn't shout or even talk loudly, but in the strained silence of the cavern, half the trainees jumped while the others dropped to a fighting stance as they spun around, raising their swords in a challenge.

Ignoring them, I pushed through the mass of people, my eyes fixed on the exit. Some might have said something and pulled on my cloak, but I brushed them off. I could feel… something.

Walking up and out of the blood-stained tunnel, I stepped over and on the bodies of beastkins filling the hole, not even giving them a second look as I moved. At the edge of the blood-soaked pit, I grabbed the edge and pulled myself up onto the level ground of the plains.

A ring of bodies circled the pit from where we first fought, most of them beastkins, but legionaries were scattered within the carnage. Stupid as it might be, I paid no attention to my immediate surroundings to make sure it was safe to come out as I craned my head back. Staring into the night sky, my arms hung limply to my sides as shock blanked my mind.

The heavens were burning.

Half a mile away, above the smoke-filled air of the fish camp, a vortex of boiling yellow fire churned, and at its core was a ball of liquid spinning gold. All around the massive ball of fire, thousands of beastkins flew in rings. From the light of the fire, I could see columns of twisting winds spiraling into the sphere that started at the edges of the beastkin flock and grew in intensity as it approached the center.

In the middle of the flock of beastkins, floating in the air between the majority of the flock and the ball of fire, were seven figures. Their arms were stretched wide as if they could wrap them around the core, and I could see bars of liquid golden fire stretching between their chests and the new sun.

As I watched, the ball of flame grew larger and brighter until my eyes were watering just to look at the scene. Faintly, like it was no more than a distant voice on the wind, I could hear the shuffling and murmuring of the trainees behind me, but I paid them no mind. I could not tear my eyes away from this terrible beauty playing out before me.

The sphere-shaped ball of fire was slowly expanding, forcing the figures feeding it to drift back along with the flock circling around it. Occasionally, arcs of liquid fire would break free from the core. When the loops of fire appeared, they expanded outward until they finally snapped, exploding outward like a fountain, spraying sparks and balls of the inferno across the night like a terrible rain.

Most of the destruction lashed out at the camp beneath it, and in those moments, I could see sections of the destruction blocked and thrown back into the air. However, most of the destructive blazes would slam into the ground with wild abandon, ripping up the ground and burning anything it touched. Even from our distance, I could see, hear, and feel the effects of the fire hitting the ground with such force and intensity that half-melted stones and flaming chunks of the earth were thrown into the air and landed who knew where.

I would like to say that the combat wasn't entirely one-sided, but that would make me delusional. Or more delusional than I already was if none of this was real. Streams of arrows and thrown spears streaked up into the sky at the beastkins, but it was a waste of effort. The firelight reflected off their steel tips as they were deflected by something and tumbled toward the ground, falling short of their marks.

The ball of flame continued to grow, which had become larger than a mid-sized house, and lit up the grasslands for as far as the eye could see. Then it suddenly flashed as all the surrounding fire was sucked into it at once before dimming, as it compressed to half its previous size and became a dark gold.

At that moment, when the whole world seemed to freeze, a voice boomed out over the world. "Behold the might of the Chosen, Olimpians! Fear our arrival, and understand your place in the world!" And then it fell.

From one second to the next, the ball of fire dropped like someone stood over a cliff and threw a rock toward its base. In a way, that was probably precisely what happened. However, it was seven beastkins that threw the fireball downward instead of an individual.

With a horrified fascination, I watched the fire fall. My breathing hitched in my throat as the catastrophic weapon of war fell on my soon-to-be comrades. There was no denying that point. If this was not a weapon of war meant to destroy forts and legions in one blow, I doubted I would ever see one.

What could the fish do against such a force? They were untrained and helpl—

When the sun was hundred to the ground, a compacted mass of dirt containing the charred scraps of white tents on its surface lifted into the air before shooting toward the descending ball of fire. The dirt appeared to be about half the mini sun's size, and when the two connected, the outside of the ball of fire rolled over the edges of the compressed dirt.

When the burning orb of destruction had consumed slightly more than half the dirt ball's mass, the casting exploded to the sides. As if the weapon was lashing out at its own destruction, waves and spears of fire began streaking toward the ground, ripping up chunks of the ravaged camp.

In defiance of the infernal onslaught, figures riding spears of rocks or dancing upon the winds themselves rose into the sky to meet the destruction. There might have been only three dozen of the steel-clad individuals gleaming in the night, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

They ripped out portions of the earth, formed them into spikes, and threw them into the flocks, disrupting their formations. Fires were snuffed out as the air around it was formed into blades that tore beastkins in half a moment later. Streams of water were pulled from the ground or the rivers to meet the fire head-on, exploding into clouds of steam. Even the beastkin's fire was turned back onto their own ranks, each twisting gout killing them by the score.

If the beastkins swooped lower to attack the knights, flights of arrows and spears would intercept them before they got close, leaving the hammers of the legion to do as they pleased. As I watched the death inflicted on the legion attackers, a smile slowly spread over my face.

The death toll quickly mounted into the hundreds for the birds, and they steadily fell from the sky, and it wasn't long before the beastkins turned their tail feathers toward us and flew away into the night, headed toward the northern forest. Like living rivers in the air, they streamed away, partially lit up by the burning camp below.

Snapping out of my shock, I turned and looked at the gathered scout trainees behind me. "Last chance to leave. If you stay with me till morning, I will mold you into scouts whether you like it or not." With my little speech given, I turned and started striding with purpose toward the Fish Camp.

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