Chapter 51

…Now.

Everything went white.

The next thing Alexander knew, he was rolling on the ground, screaming as fire tore down his spine, and agony exploded inside his skull. He was vaguely aware that everyone else was going through the same thing, though he could barely hear anything over the damn buzzing in his ears.

The suffering didn’t stop. Seconds stretched until they felt like minutes, and minutes until they felt like hours. Pain dug into bone and crawled along nerves until it reached every corner of his body. His jaw ached from the screaming he couldn’t contain, lungs burning with each ragged pull of air that wasn’t enough. He wished he could black out, but consciousness held on.

When it finally eased, Alexander lay sprawled across the pavement, chest heaving. The buzzing in his ears softened into a low thrum. He tilted his head, vision swimming, and caught sight of the others. Annie was curled up on her side, body twitching in time with her sobs. Talia lay still on her back, sweat plastering strands of hair across her pale face. Augustus was already struggling to rise, one hand on his knee, then doubled over in a coughing fit.

Across the road, the Throne of Scales hadn’t fared any better. Maximilian was on his knees, hands braced on the ground, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Julia clutched at her face, body trembling. Cash had sprawled out limp, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Raelene and Draven barely moved.

Alexander forced himself upright, every muscle protesting. The pain had been worse than anything he’d ever experienced, but there didn’t appear to be any lasting physical damage. He swayed, feeling miserable all the way to his core, and dragged another breath of air in. He wondered if the Throne of Scales still had it in them to fight after that, or if they were asking themselves the same questions he was.

He turned to Augustus, intending to have him try again with the portal, when he saw it.

There was a strange tear in the distance. It split the air halfway down the empty street, a thin wound widening with each breath. He blinked hard, certain he was seeing things at first… but it only grew larger.

“Do you see that?” he rasped.

Annie groaned from the ground. “See what?”

“The rip. In the air,” Alexander said, pointing.

She lifted her head, then pushed herself upright with a muttered curse. Talia’s eyes widened as she spotted it too. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maximilian’s team also shifting, murmuring, pointing toward the same spot.

The tear stretched up and down at once, as though unseen hands were peeling reality away like old wallpaper. Blackness spilled out behind it, a void so absolute it seemed to devour the light of the surrounding city. It widened into a massive semicircle, edge to edge across the street, tall enough to swallow a building.

Then they came through.

The first to arrive were mounted knights in shining plate armor, riding creatures that moved with the heavy gait of crocodiles but carried the frames of warhorses. Their jaws hung long and scaled, teeth gleaming.

Eleven knights riding in formation. Behind them poured soldiers, the first row heavily armored and carrying massive tower shields. Behind them, lighter armor and bows. Each step thundered, heralding their arrival. Robed priests followed, chanting in a tongue that set Alexander’s teeth on edge. Their voices carried despite the low tenor; a disturbing chorus that did not belong to this world.

Alexander’s mind struggled to count, but there were at least a hundred soldiers pressing into the street, their boots pounding as the tear behind them remained wide open. He swallowed, throat raw, every part of him wanting to rest, but knowing this was just the beginning.

“Alexander Rooke,” Maximilian called out. “I propose a truce.”

Glancing across the street, he caught Maximilian’s gaze. “Agreed,” he called back. “On the condition that we go our separate ways after whatever this is. No matter the circumstances.”

Maximilian nodded. “Agreed.”

Alexander turned to his team, who were all staring warily at the approaching force. “I assume the portal is still a no-go?”

Augustus shook his head. “It feels like everywhere but here is out of reach.”

“Then we’re fighting,” Alexander said. “Be careful, but no more holding back.”

“Are you sure we can trust them?” Annie asked, pointing her chin toward the Throne of Scales team.

He shrugged. “I’d rather take my chances with them than with the army of crocodile-horse riding invaders who look like they want to kill us.”

She blinked at him. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Auggy, grenade bag, please.”

The big man smiled. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He aimed at a nearby building and swished his wand. “STORAGE CLOSET.”

Alexander pulled the door open with a thought, then floated the duffle bag full of grenades out. Talia stepped inside and returned with some of her own kit strapped over her shoulders. Augustus sent a spectral hand to retrieve his sword-cane, then shut the door, letting it vanish.

Meanwhile, Maximilian had taken a few steps toward the army. “I am Maximilian de Castillo, Leader of the Throne of Scales. We have no hostile intentions, regardless of what the… System message said. We are willing to sit down with your leaders and discuss—”

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Shouting from the invading army cut Maximilian short and drew everyone’s attention. Alexander watched as the rank of foot soldiers shifted, only for the archers to aim upward, draw, and release a volley, immediately repeating the practiced motions as the arrows climbed toward the apex of their arc.

Alexander reached up and grabbed the metal arrowheads with Metallokinesis, halting them mid-flight. Spinning them around, he aimed and fired the arrows back at the invaders. Shields slammed into place, but it was only enough to protect the front few rows as the rest found their mark.

The knights drew swords and kicked their mounts into a charge. Six of them split off, targeting the Throne of Scales. The remaining five formed a wedge aimed at Grimnir. As they closed, the warriors swung their swords, sending energy waves whistling through the air ahead of the charge.

Annie stepped out in front, morphing her arms into shields and bracing for the impact. Blow after blow slammed into her, each one driving her back.

Augustus sent streaks of fire hurtling back at the knights, forcing them to break formation and scatter. Talia shot out a nearby window, leaped through, then took up a firing position from behind cover. Immediately, one bolt found the head of a mount and killed it. The knight flipped end over end, but landed gracefully enough to come down swinging at Annie.

Alexander reached for the knight’s armor and weapons, intending to end the fight quickly, only to find resistance.

“Treat the knights like superhuman threats,” he shouted loud enough for the Throne of Scales team to hear him as well.

Then another knight was bearing down on him, swinging a massive two-handed sword. Alexander’s drones were already moving to intercept. One clipped the flat of the blade, sending the energy wave wide. The second crashed into the man’s helmet, throwing him from his mount. The knight hit the ground hard, armor scraping as he slid. Then he immediately climbed to his feet, seemingly uninjured.

Taking advantage of the distance between them, Alexander pulled a pair of grenades free from the bag and sent them hurtling through the air with a thought, triggering their timers as they went.

One of them struck the mount, which was sliding into a turn, readying to charge back into the fight. The explosion tore its vulnerable side open, killing it instantly.

The second grenade rolled to a stop at the knight’s feet. The man barely had time to glance down before it went off.

The blast punched him into the air, hurling the armored figure end over end. He crashed to the street with bone-breaking force, sliding across the pavement in a screech of steel.

Alexander tensed as the knight pushed himself upright once more, armor scorched but seemingly unharmed, as though the explosion had done nothing more than toss him around like a toy.

Alexander eyed the bag suspiciously. Did I pack the wrong grenades?

He yanked another free and whipped it forward with a thought. It struck just as the knight stooped to recover his sword, detonating in a flash that hurled him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone.

The man grunted, then began to rise again.

Alexander’s jaw tightened. He reached for the dropped sword with Metallokinesis and hurled it at the knight. Metal screeched as the blade punched through the knight’s chest plate, pinning him to the wall.

For good measure, he twisted the sword with a flick of his fingers.

The knight slumped over the blade, dead.

Swords work, but grenades don’t?

Casting his awareness across the battlefield, Alexander saw Annie locked with two knights at once. She spun and twisted between them, forcing them to block each other, deflecting the strikes that slipped through. She was being driven back under the relentless onslaught, but she was still holding her ground.

To Alexander’s untrained eye, the knights’ fighting style looked rote. They flowed smoothly from one strike to the next, but the patterns became easier to read as the fight dragged on. And against Annie’s chaos, they struggled. A spike lanced for a face without warning. A blade melted into a hammer mid-swing. A shield materialized at the last instant, sending a strike wide. Their training faltered against her unpredictability.

Talia killed her opponent quickly. The knight charged straight toward the storefront she had slipped behind, blind to the trap. Her shot tore through his helm and dropped him before he reached the window. She immediately swung her rifle, tracking a new target. Her next shots tore into the knight fighting Augustus. Lightning from his wand staggered the man, and Talia’s shot punched through his backplate, sending him to the ground in a smoking heap.

The two of them turned as one to assist Annie.

Across the street, the Throne of Scales was faring just as well. Julia kept two knights at bay, their movements slowing as frost spread across their joints, locking plates of armor together until their strikes grew clumsy.

Maximilian dominated three at once with his chains now that Alexander’s interference was gone. One knight dodged a chain, only to miss the second as it burst from the ground and lanced straight through his back, lifting him clear off his feet.

Cash blurred around another knight in a storm of blows. The man lashed out with wave after wave from his blade, but each cut found only empty air, while Cash’s fists and feet landed with brutal effect.

Draven and Raelene fought the last knight together. At first it seemed they were being overwhelmed, until Draven allowed the enemy’s blade to pass harmlessly through his body. He followed it by thrusting his hand into a gap in the knight’s armor, withdrawing in a spray of blood that left the man reeling.

Dead croco-horses lay strewn across the road, their armored riders either broken or fighting desperately. Behind them, the army pressed forward. The first rank bristled with tower shields raised in a wall, while the second thrust weapons through narrow slots cut into the iron barrier.

It was almost an intimidating sight.

Except for one minor consideration.

Alexander swept his senses across the advancing army and felt none of the stubborn resistance the knights had carried with them. What he found instead was metal.

Helmets. Boots. Weapons. Chain mail. Cuirasses.

For a moment, hesitation gnawed at him. What he was about to do was no act of combat; it would be a slaughter. But these were invaders from another reality, and they had come with the clear intent to kill. He steadied his resolve.

He raised a hand and clenched his Will around the army. Every piece of metal answered. The soldiers froze mid-step, caught in his grip. Shouts of confusion rang through the ranks in their alien tongue.

Alexander curled his fingers into a fist.

Helmets collapsed inward. Armor buckled against ribs. Greaves crushed shins. Boots ground bone to splinters.

The confusion turned to panic. Panic became screams.

Alexander swallowed hard, refusing to look away. It had to be done, even if he felt no satisfaction in it. If he bore the weight of this choice, then he would bear witness too.

The noise faded at last, leaving only the low, steady chanting of the priests and the clash of battle where the surviving knights still fought, retreating step by step toward what remained of their decimated force.

Then he heard pounding footsteps closing in. He turned just in time to throw himself aside, narrowly avoiding a downward strike from a familiar two-handed sword.

The same sword he had driven through the knight to pin him against the wall.

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