Poisoned?!

How long did I have? What would the symptoms be?

Before I could guess, a spear whistled to my right, another flew over my left shoulder. Through the haze of smoke and fog, the stone men were throwing their spears, their heavy footfalls stomping up the stairs to retrieve them.

Behind me, something heavy smashed against the ziggurat, making it shake.

I had almost forgotten about the fight with Nostrand above.

As much as I needed Dugan to heal me, he and others were fighting their own battle. A battle they would lose if I didn't stop these stone men from advancing.

I grit my teeth.

How long did I have? Long enough to make a difference.

I conjured a tongue of fire in each hand.

This was it.

This is where I paid back every kindness my party had shown me—every time they had saved my life.

I would hold them back—even if it killed me.

The flames hovering over my palms sputtered out. My knees went weak.

What?

The first heavy emerged through the fog. It thrust its spear at my chest.

I slid to the right, narrowly avoiding its attack. It whipped its spearhead to the side, slashing across my upper arm. My jacket deflected the cut, but the force sent me stumbling off balance.

Why?

Another heavy appeared on my right. I twisted sideways to dodge its spear thrust.

I pushed off the spear, turned tail and ran up the stairs—wincing with each step.

There were too many. I needed to create distance. I needed-

The flat of the spearhead slammed into my back. The stone steps rose to meet my face.

I'm falling…

I covered my face with my forearms—the step's sharp edge bit into my flesh, and the jolt of pain made me grunt.

I rolled onto my back, blinking the water out of my eyes.

Why did I feel weak? Was it the poison?

One by one, the heavies were walking out of the mist. They surrounded me in a semi-circle, green-tipped spears raised for a killing blow. Staring down the spears, I was reminded of that boy leaning against an alley wall, waiting to die.

But I don't want to die…

The stone steps rumbled.

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A warm feeling washed over me.

That rumbling…

It was coming from above.

I rolled to my right as a giant stone wheel barrelled down the steps.

It plowed through the middle of the stone men's formation. I used the chaos to scramble to my feet.

What was going on up there?

I ran to the top of the first floor's stairs. Thrown spears clattered against the steps beside me. The pain in my feet—in my body was distant.

The veil of mist parted as I stepped on the terrace, and above me was chaos.

The fight had moved to the second floor. Chunks of rock were eaten out of the staircase. In other spots, stone protruded in bizarre angular shapes. The mist bordering the stairs made it look like one long arena, and in that arena, there were two opponents: Nostrand and Isla. He was on the steps between the second and third floor, taking the full brunt of Isla's fury. Between the torrents of water and blocks of ice, he didn't have time to counterattack.

Amazing…

But where was everyone else?

A thrown spear brushed the side of my thigh as an answer to my question.

You don't have time to worry about everyone else.

I turned back to the fog below me. I had to trust Isla and the others to fight their battle— I had my own.

I turned my senses inward.

What is this feeling? This warmth?

I let a tongue of fire hover in my left hand… and I understood.

I'm not Castille.

I'm not Arwen.

I'm not a selfless person who would sacrifice themselves to save others.

I'm the guy who let my best friend die to buy time to escape.

I had everything a person could want: family, friends, a home… a fiancé. And I threw it all away for the chance to become a little stronger. When I went to Elmer's shop for Sin's third lesson, I didn't go to protect Cynthia or Cindra. I went for myself.

I… am a selfish… fucking… bastard.

And this bastard wants to live.

The tongue of fire exploded into a flame as big as my head. A wave of euphoria rocked me on my heels and left my mouth agape.

I was grinning… so wide it hurt.

I found it. Finally.

Conviction.

The flame collapsed in on itself, shifting from a flickering, red torchlight to a pale orange orb. It reminded me of my eyes. I smiled through the searing pain shooting down my forearm.

Below me were more eyes—red crystals sparkling in the mist.

I hurled the orb into the first face that rose out of the fog. At the moment of impact, I fed more will into the fire.

KABOOM!!!

I shaped the explosion, pushing the heat and flame forward into the steps below. The shockwave of air pushed the mist back as shards of the stone man's shattered body pierced the surrounding enemies.

Again.

Another orange orb bloomed above my hand.

The stone men rushed forward, desperate to stop me, before I lobbed another explosive. The frontlines charged while the backlines threw their spears.

Useless.

KABOOM!!!

Again.

KABOOM!!!

Again.

KAAABOOOOOM!!!

The explosions cleared the fog on the steps to the first floor's terrace. In front of me, the remains of dozens of stone men littered the stairs. With the threat removed, my conviction faded.

I sank to my knees, my left arm dangling. It felt like it was left in a stewpot. Angry welts rose on my skin from rolling down the stairs. My feet throbbed in sync with the poisoned gash in my stomach and my swollen left shoulder. On top of everything, the Grand Terraformer was still siphoning my will.

How could Isla use her abilities while she was so close to it?

My head bobbed forward. My eyelids were heavy.

I should close them—just for a bit. The party could manage without me. I'd done my part.

I let my eyes unfocus.

Just a short break. I deserve it.

A golden streak of light flew over my head.

What? What was that?

A second streak flew over, then a third streak and more. A steady stream of souls was travelling to the Grand Terraformer.

Above us, people were dying.

My eyes widened at the realization.

I hadn't thought about it until now, but it was strange. Except for a few patrols, the Undertown was empty.

Where was Nostrand Del's army?

Were they cutting off our escape?

No.

There were too many dying—more than the guards Reed brought to this battle.

My stomach sank.

Nostrand's nighttime ambush was the first punch in a combination—a blow to soften us up for the main attack that had just begun.

The people of Steeltown were dying, and I wanted to take a break.

I balled my left hand into a fist and slammed it into my stomach.

The pain pushed away any thought of sleep. I struggled to my feet.

I wasn't going to die here, but I know who was.

We had a war to win, and every second we wasted, more people died.

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