Chapter 163 - Culdao Peaks Town

In Culdao Peaks Town, three days later...

A gust of chilly air blew through a rose-tainted glass window, the cold wind brushing past the cotton sleeves of the innkeeper as he hunched over a bed, trying to set a mattress cover. He grunted as he flung the corners of the cover to the further end that he could not reach. Still, he took great care to flatten it, meticulously ironing out any creases with his hands. Not a single word was spoken by him, the hair along his forearm standing on edge out of fear from the looming giant of a man behind him.

The innkeeper patted the cover one last time before standing back upright and putting on a fake smile for the giant man who towered a head above him. "Good sir, the room should no longer have the lingering smell of blood and sweat. I have made great efforts to-"

A burly hand from the giant man slammed into his chest, forcing him aside with a stumble while the giant man immediately sat down on the mattress. The bedframe sagged under the weight of the man's metal armor, wooden beams creaking out for rest as the man bent over sideways, his nose sniffing the bed. The innkeeper stiffened up the moment he saw the man's expression darkened with overwhelming anger, no doubt directed at him.

"The bed still smells like a pigsty!" The giant man roared, shooting back up off the bed and storming towards the frightened innkeeper. "This is your best room in the inn...?"

"Y-y-yes, sir!" The innkeeper fumbled his speech, looking behind his shoulder to see two more men armed to the teeth with rifles slung across their arms blocking the room's door. "It's the best we have to offer. No other room has such a bed-"

"If this is your best bed, I shudder to think what the rest of the rooms smell like. Do you think a man of my position would endure sleeping on a bed that is filled with sweat and blood?! It smells like someone fucked three horses and a donkey in here!" The giant man stared towards the innkeeper, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"Sir, I can assure you that we have tried our best to remove the scent-"

"I don't just want a removal - I want a change of bed!"

"But-"

"Are you talking back against me right now?" The giant man leered at the innkeeper, their noses almost touching. "You think the Violet Demons are some kind of joke to you?"

"Not at all, not at all, but we do not have another mattress of such size right now, it's the only one in town!"

"Pathetic." The giant man shoved the innkeeper into the wall, pinning up the innkeeper with one hand while the innkeeper's legs dangled. "Must I instruct everyone in this forsaken town how to do things?"

The giant man leaned in once more, glaring at the innkeeper's face. "You will find a new mattress. If you do not find one, you will clean this mattress until the scent is entirely removed. I want the room completely spotless by tomorrow, ready for use. Do we understand each other, or should I convey these instructions in the jail?"

"Perfectly understood, sir." The innkeeper croaked while his head nodded vigorously. He gasped for air the moment the giant man let go, his body collapsing to the floor. The giant man snapped his fingers in the air, calling the attention of the two other soldiers outside.

"Back to the lobby, lads. Drinks are on me!" The giant man grinned widely as the three of them left the room, leaving the innkeeper alone to nurse his bruises.

On you? You're drinking my wares! The innkeeper grumbled internally as he struggled to get to his feet, using a nearby table to prop himself up. He staggered over to the bed, sighing as he removed the cover for what was the umpteenth time in the past few years. The mattress was dotted with blotches of stains and a few streaks of darkened blood, a mark of its history. Ever since that damned traveler came in... how did he even sweat that much in just a single day?! And why was he bleeding onto our bed?!

He had tried for months to get rid of the stain, having even dumped the mattress in an entire bucket of soap water, scrubbing endlessly. However the stains were deep and not easily removed, even after more than ten days of continuous washing to the point of damaging the surface. Most of the other visitors and guests since then hardly complained, but when the occupation of the Violet Demons swooped in like a storm, the innkeeper had no time to react or even flee.

A raucous round of laughter erupted from the lower floors, the innkeeper single-handily lifting up the bed, pivoting on its edge into an upright position along its long edge. He tugged it out of the room, heading for the stairwells slowly while the mattress dragged along the floorboards stained with muddy footprints. The sound of drinking and laughter got louder and louder as he reached the lobby, where the tables and bars were packed to the brim with Violet Demons soldiers.

"Come on, girl, hurry up! Where's our order?!" A Demon banged the table, bellowing at a frightened girl who was barely of age. The innkeeper's heart tightened as he tried to avert his gaze from the waitresses being harassed non-stop, many of them having already been forced into submission over the last few months. He kept his eyes to himself, focused on bringing the mattress slowly down the stairs.

Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he suddenly felt an ice-cold splash of ale smacking him right in the head, drenching him and the edge of the mattress in alcohol. The innkeeper was about to yell in defiance until he was reminded again of just how many Demons were drinking in the inn, five of them now laughing at him.

"What's the matter?!" The Demon who had flung his mug at the innkeeper laughed. "I'm just trying to help out with the stench! Better ale than blood, right?"

The nearby Demons snickered and laughed at the expense of the innkeeper, who gritted his teeth and continued dragging the mattress away to the backdoor. The action of the first Demon emboldened the others to fling their ale and beer at him as he suffered humiliation after humiliation. He suppressed his internal rage, focusing on taking the mattress out to the back. By the time he had fully exited the inn, the mattress was now dripping wet from the myriad of drinks dumped on it, creating a strange combination stench that would be even harder to get rid of.

The innkeeper clenched his fist as he hauled the now unusable mattress to a nearby wall at the back of the inn. His brain racked for a short minute on just how he could fix the problem by tomorrow before he finally caught himself mid-contemplation. What the fuck am I doing, thinking about how to please these fuckers?! I should be thinking about how to get them out!

But he already knew that was nearly impossible - a small town of traders, merchants, and travelers did not have the means to overthrow an entire major gang's yoke. His heart sunk as despair replaced his anger, his shoulder slouching as he was about to accept his imminent fate, ready to give up the ghost, when he suddenly spotted a waitress peeking out of the backdoor, waving to him.

"What's wrong? Are they fighting again?" The innkeeper asked as he rushed back to the door.

"No, there's information!" The waitress spoke excitedly. "We might have a chance!"

"A chance...? You're saying-"

"Here - go to the others, quickly!" The waitress placed a note in his hand.

"But they will ask-"

"We'll say you're going to find a new mattress. Now go, I can handle things here!" The waitress left the innkeeper staring blankly at the backdoor.

The innkeeper glanced at the open note in his palm, his eyes widening as he read every word. Without wasting any more time, he took off from the inn, navigating the town through the center. The large market square was once the bustling hub of finance and dreams, but now it had been turned into a never-ending logistical nightmare of crates upon crates, with conscripted town workers forced to labor day and night, sorting and loading boxes coming in from Yual knows what.

At the very center of this never-ending nightmare was a five-story high spire that dominated the skyscape. It glistened with green arcia engravings along the surface toward arcia power generators installed into its foundational base, heavily guarded by Violet Demon guards. It was not the only spire around, with smaller ones situated along the edge of the town, but it was this main spire that struck fear into the hearts of the townsfolk. Gut-wrenching cries of pain and whimpers came from the top of the spire, where a single man had been crucified to it, bolted by metal nails into the very tip.

He avoided the sight of the patrolling guards, sneaking between the countless array of crates, idle supply wagons, and sorting tables. The local workers spotted him with ease, and as soon as they locked eyes, the innkeeper gave them a secret hand sign, all of them nodding in return with understanding. He continued to sneak towards a nearby building, a grocery shop that had now been transformed into a depot by the Violet Demons. Most of the Violet Demons were in the inn drinking, making it the perfect hideout for the townsfolk to gather in its basement.

The innkeeper entered the basement, turning on an arctech lamp that illuminated the littered maps, notes, and observation reports logged by the townsfolk on the movement of the Violet Demons. Storage racks of backup stolen rations and a central meeting table furnished the small enclosed space, big enough for only two dozen to fit.

Soon, a few workers came down into the basement, as well other townsfolk who weren't on their shift. Not everyone attended the impromptu meeting so as to not raise too much suspicion, leaving the innkeeper with only a dozen other townsfolk within the hour. The moment the last person entered the basement, the doors were sealed shut, the place immediately erupting into a loud cacophony of complaints and swearing.

"Those fuckers broke down my door for no reason but to harass me and my kids!" A mother complained loudly. "When are we going to start fighting back?! I'm sick of having meetings but no actions!"

"That's what happened the last time, and that's exactly what got Fred pinned up to that cursed spire!" Another man snapped back. "You want good people, good folks, to die for nothing again?"

"This time it's different. Something strange is going on." One of the supply workers interjected. "We've been getting less and less boxes. We're still forced to move the same amount, but its clear that some of the crates are bascially empty. Something is happening behind the scenes."

"I overheard a Demon talking about fighting happening in Kregol, not just the Culdao Peaks." Another supply worker nodded his head. "The tide of the battle must be shifting against the Demons, but I haven't seen a single soldier moving out of the town yet."

A wave of murmuring agreements spread through the basement, before the innkeeper finally raised his hand, gathering everyone's attention. "Even if the Violet Demons have not moved yet, we will have to strike now."

"What?" A collective gasp erupted from the others, each of them exchanging confused looks

 The first supply worker stepped up angrily. "Are you crazy, Hank? We're not going to go to war or die just because you're being treated badly. Everyone here is being treated just the same way, even fucking Fred nailed to that shit!"

"I know, but we don't have a choice!" Hank, the innkeeper, handed the note to him. "If we don't act now, the Ardent Cretins are going to send more troops over by the end of tomorrow!"

"The Ardent Cretins? What the fuck do they want in the town?!" The second supply worker exclaimed before realization dawned on his face. "Fucking hell, it's because of the fighting at Kregol! The Violet Demons don't have enough people, so they are calling for reinforcements!"

"And if the reinforcements come in, it would be even harder to fight back." Hank nodded, but he soon noticed the gazes of despair and hopelessness present in the townsfolk. "Have we forgotten about Fred? He's been up there for a week now, and he isn't going to last any longer!"

"Fred used to be our oppressor!" The first supply worker retorted. "That bastard levied the entire law book at us ever since he became an enforcer, trying to suppress our fun. If he came back, he would tear down your entire inn for serving alcohol!"

"Look, I may not have liked Fred. He was always a bitch, but he had his heart in the right place, still thinking of the town first. He was the first guy who fought against the Violet Demons when they first came while we all cowered in our houses." Hank explained.

"How the hell were we supposed to fight against an entire battalion of Violet Demons? We barely had rifles to begin with, and now we would only have sticks and stones." The second supply worker complained.

"Yet Fred stood up for us. He's still one of us, born and bred here. He isn't going to survive long on that spire, and it's up to us to save him." Hank argued.

"But with what?!" The mother exclaimed. "If we shoot a single pellet, that spire will become active and shoot right at us. And with Fred strapped to the top now, any arcia bolt the spire fires will burn right through him and kill him instantly!"

"Then we have to do this step-by-step. The supply workers are the closest to the spire. We need to find an opening to damage the power generators. Create a distraction elsewhere, and have the guards move away from the base, just like we planned before." Hank explained. "It's now or never. Once those reinforcements come in, it would be even harder to do anything!"

The rest of the meeting continued with the delegation of roles and tasks, each one of the townsfolk steeling themselves for the coming revolution. Hank had a nagging thought at the back of his head that he might not see any of them again, but he shoved it aside and focused on the job at hand. He knew if he didn't do anything now, there would be no end to the nightmare, and he couldn't count on anyone but themselves to put a stop to it. Within an hour, the planning was completed, ready to be executed when a loud crashing sound of the basement doors erupted from the staircase.

"It's the Demons!" One of the townsfolk cried out as five armored Demons stormed into the basement before anyone could react. A few tried to use anything they could grab their hands out - sticks, furniture, chairs to beat back the armored Demons, but it was ineffective against the metallic plates.

"FIGHT BACK!" Something snapped in Hank as he roared, charging with his full body and slamming against an armored Demon, smacking the Demon against the moldy brick basement wall with a loud thud. Despite the armor worn by the Demon, it only amplified the concussion as his head was rattled about by a follow-up punch from Hank to the helmet.

Hank ignored the blistering pain blooming on his knuckles, immediately targeting the next Demon, who was already pinning the first supply worker. He barreled right into the Demon, leveraging the weight of his body to crash the Demon into the wall again, helping the first supply worker up. The two of them exchanged a knowing nod before launching into a furious rampage in the enclosed space. Their courage and bravery invigorated the other townsfolk, each of them yelling a battle cry as they flung themselves into the brawl with nothing to lose.

Hank knocked out his third Demon, spotting that there were three more Demons filtering down through the staircase. "BLOCK THE STAIRS!" He called out, positioning his body behind the meeting table and shoving it. The two supply workers joined in, the trio pushing it like a battering ram. The meeting table crushed the group of Demons, who struggled to stop the meeting table. Hank summoned all of his latent strength, pushing with all his might and shoving the Demons back. The Demons lost their footing, staggering back until they were forced back up the stairwell, the meeting table blocking the lower half of the entrance. Only a single Demon was trapped in the basement, immediately surrounded and pummeled by the townsfolk. His armor was shredded apart by them, the leather straps snapped off and his body beaten blue-black.

"Quick, grab the weapons on the fallen Demons!" Hank ordered, stripping the four Demons and arming the best fighters among them. More and more Demons tried to enter the basement, but the meeting table held firmly, allowing Hank and the others to fire the rifles over the cover. The pellets zinged through the stairwell, causing the Demons to retreat in force until they cleared the stairwell.

A cheer erupted from the townsfolk, but Hank knew the situation was dire even though they had obtained four rifles. "We're trapped in here - the moment we go out there, we're surrounded." He explained bluntly. "We'll have to hold out here - we still got rations enough to last us a good while."

The temporary joy of the townsfolks were immediately shattered, nodding grimly as they began to settle in for a long stakeout. Each one of them knew this might be the end of the road, resolving themselves to fight to the end. Still, the first supply worker held a confused expression as he whispered to Hank quietly, the two of them perching their rifles over the meeting table "There's something wrong. How did they know about this meeting when it wasn't even planned an hour ago?"

"You're saying there's a rat among us."

"Either here, or outside among the workers. How would the Demons know about this place when they didn't even find it the first time."

Hank's heart plummeted as his view of the other townsfolk trapped in the basement began to shift. He grabbed the first supply worker by the shoulder, leaning over with a whisper as well. "Don't tell anyone else this. We can't have infighting, not while we're trapped here."

The first supply worker nodded, but their conversation was cut short by a sudden tremor that rumbled through the whole depot, followed by a second. Loose dust shook off the ceiling as the tremors continued towards the staircase, Hank gulping instinctively, knowing exactly who was coming. Before he could say a word or even fire a single pellet at the top of the stairs, a giant figure leaped down the stairwell, smashing right into the table with the force of a mountain. Hank's world spun while he was sent flying, crashing into the ground as the sound of cracking bones and squishing flesh was pierced by the horrified screams of the other townsfolk. Hank's vision was shaky, struggling to get up to his feet when he felt a familiar burly hand grab him by the collar, dragging him up into the air.

"I didn't know you needed this many townsfolk to make a mattress." The giant man from before snarled at him, the man's thick yellow teeth threatening Hank. "Much less a basemen-"

Hank felt his body collapse onto the floor as the giant man was tackled by the two supply workers in the waist. They roared while pushing with all their might, trying to tip the giant man over but to no avail. It felt like pushing a brick wall, but it was long enough for another townsman to fire pellets at the man's head.

The pellet struck true into the forehead, a bloody explosion blasting outwards. But to everyone's horror, the wound sealed nearly instantaneously around the new wound, trapping the pellet within the flesh. A sickening, grotesque, squirming mass of flesh wrapped around it, hardening into a red pulsate that looked rock solid. Hank couldn't believe his eyes as well, stunned on the floor as the giant man let out a battle cry. Before he could gather enough sense to continue fighting, he felt something sharp dig into his ankles, jagged pain spiraling up all four of his appendages.

Hank grunted as he was pinned down by what seemed to be a rapidly growing vine, the same vine that now ensnared the rest of the townsfolk in the basement. The two supply workers were caught in the same expanding trap of plants, their bodies rooted and disarmed by a sudden spurt of branches that restrained them. Within a short five seconds, the entire basement was a living undergrowth of plants, vines, and strange flowers that seeped out a pleasant scent, one that Hank couldn't stop taking a whiff of.

The giant man was about to punch the imprisoned supply workers when a stern female voice interjected. "You said you had this under control, commander." The voice wafted down from the top of the stairwell, accompanied by descending footsteps, each clink of her metal boots echoing through the basement.

"Mage hunter...?" The commander squinted in suspicion, looking up to see his men parting aside for a sleek lady who strutted down each step, her armor comprised of strange exotic relics that could only be found in ruins. She holstered a strange whip on the left side of her belt, the arcia energy coursing through it dimming slightly. "I only just requested for reinforcements from the Ardent Cretins-"

"-just hours ago. I know. The rest of the troops are already on the way and will arrive within a day." The female mage hunter interrupted. "I have been sent in advance to interrogate these rebels."

"What?" The commander stood up to his full height, glowering down at the mage hunter who now stood face to face with him. "These rebels are in my jurisdiction, not yours, Cretin. I am the one who captured them!"

"And whose vines are they in now?" The mage hunter scoffed, trying to move past the commander. Instead, the commander blocked her path with an outstretched punch that narrowly missed her face, hitting the wall instead with a thunderous crack.

"I am the commander of this region, and my orders are absolute, Cretin or Demon."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, I have my orders from Sebastian."

"Sebastian? Is he supposed to be my superior? The major gangs are in an alliance of equals, not a hierarchy. Or perhaps you would like to find out where you stand on the totem pole?"

"Would you, Commander?" Another voice entered the basement, the commander stiffing up as he recognized its owner.

The commander hurriedly retracted his hands, taking a clear step back to allow the new visitor to enter. He immediately kept his head low, not daring to even look the visitor in the eye. "Not at all, Sebastian, sir. I apologize for not welcoming you properly-"

"No matter. We came on very short notice. I've been seeing the reports and your conclusion of the recent occurrences." Sebastian replied, motioning for the commander to stand back up straight. "But perhaps we shall discuss this in a more appropriate place? Preferably with ones in the know."

"Of course." The commander nodded vigorously before gesturing to the other Demons on the stairwell. "The rest of you, round all of them up and throw them in cells!"

The vines, plants, and flowers all immediately retracted along the length of their growth, slinking back into their original seeds. The mage hunter twisted a bracelet on her gauntlet, the seeds instantly flying back into her hand. Hank tried to sit back up, but his body felt numb from top to bottom, his muscles barely responding.

"Don't even try. The vines' poison lasts for a few hours. You're coming with us." The mage hunter forced Hank's body to flip over, twisting his arms into a lock. Just like that, the impromptu uprising was crushed, and the captured townsfolk were all segregated into individual cells. Only Hank was brought to the commander's office, his arms and legs tied into a small rickety wooden chair, while Sebastian, the mage hunter, and the commander interrogated him.

"Hank, was it?" Sebastian pulled another chair up opposite Hank, taking a seat. "How much do you know about Alvin Teras? Have you been in contact with him?"

Hank blinked twice, unsure of what Sebastian was talking about at first, but he soon got the gist of what was happening, his face twisting into a fake grin. "And why would I tell you that? It'll take a lot more than polite talk to get that information out of me."

"No need to act like you know more than you do, Mr. Hank." Sebastian could see right through his act, leaning back in frustration. "If you haven't been in contact with him, then have you been receiving supplies from any goblins or any Seven Snakes member?"

A momentary expression of confusion flickered on Hank's face, but he maintained the facade as best as he could. "Ain't going to say nothing."

"And what would I need to get you to speak?"

"All of you get out of my town," Hank stated clearly. "We were just traders, merchants and hunters! Once the Count returns-"

"Oh, I don't think he'll be returning any time soon." Sebastian sighed, getting off the chair and addressing the commander. "I suspect this may be a false alarm."

"But, Sebastian, sir. The sudden uprising in Kregol and disruptions to the supply networks are all indicative of something more brewing in the Seven Snakes. We have sighted Aurtlas flying into the Culdao Peaks too, they bombed our forces!"

"And our spires are enough to take down such flimsy objects. A single shot into their wings would cripple them." Sebastian dismissed the commander's concerns. "The first strike may catch us off-guard, but we are prepared for it now."

"Sir, I am of the utmost belief that Alvin Teras must be in the area in order to warrant such an outburst."

"Or the Seven Snakes are finally fighting back harder than we expected. Both can be true, but it is all merely assumptions." Sebastian shook his head, tapping his cane on the wooden floorboards.

"If you would just stay here a few days, you will be able to understand and-"

"I cannot linger here to see if any of the suspicions or beliefs will play out," Sebastian interjected. "The Sectors are still not under our control - resistance is fierce. Until we have captured the Central Sector, nothing is finished. I'm sure you know that your top fighters are still there too. It is unfortunate, but I shall leave the disposal of this rebel and return to Raktor. The reinforcing men will arrive in a day's time."

The commander nodded grimly, performing a bow while Sebastian and the mage hunter left the office without another word. As soon as the two were out of earshot, the commander banged the table with a boiling rage. He stormed up to the tied-up Hank, glaring directly into his eyes. "Hank, you have ten seconds to tell me how your men learned of the reinforcements. Or there will be consequences."

"The same way you planted a rat among us." Hank shot back. It was a lie, but the commander didn't know that, and Hank could already see the effects playing out on the brows of the commander's eyes.

"First, Kregol, now you, next that rat!" He roared, grabbing Hank's chair and lifting it up with just one hand. "The others in Raktor must think I'm a joke for not being able to get my own town in order! It seems that I have been too lenient on your people - but that changes today." He threw Hank onto the floor towards the office door, chair and all. "Guards! Drag this fool to his cell. We'll crucify him in the morning next to that blabbering enforcer."

Hank didn't have the time to retort as two Demons hauled him out of the office into the town's local jail. The cells were cramped and segregated, just big enough for one to lie flat next to a bucket. Hank saw the forlorn faces of the other captured townsfolk while he was dragged past the cells before being thrown into his own personal solitary cell. His chin hit the ground hard, his wrists and legs still tied to the chair as the cell's metal grill was slammed shut and locked. "Hey, I'm still tied up?"

"What does it matter? You're going to die in a few hours anyway." One of the Demons shrugged.

"Consider it practice for the crucifixion tomorrow!" The other joked, earning a laugh from the first Demon, the two of them walking off and leaving Hank alone to deal with his impending doom. Thankfully, due to the cramped jail, Hank could still hear the other prisoners next to him.

"Hank. Hank! Are you okay?" The first supply worker waved from the other cell. "That bitch Teriah was the rat, after all, she isn't in with us! What the hell were they talking about just now? What did they ask you?"

"They asked me about some weird guy called Alvin Teras." Hank gritted his teeth as he tried to shift his body over, but the chair tied to him blocked him from lying on his back.

"Alvin Teras? I know that name. That's the leader of the Seven Snakes, isn't it?" The second supply worker joined the conversation from a nearby cell. "But the last I heard was that no one had seen him for a while."

"No, I heard he was still at the shopping arcade in the South Sector, the Seven Snakes's arcade." The first supply worker replied.

"Nah, it was a body double. One of the traders told me he saw the doppelganger being exposed by the Ardent Cretins just at the foyer of the arcade!"

"Fucking hell, so they were asking to see if we were collaborating with the Seven Snakes. That's the gang fighting alongside the goblins, right?" Hank exclaimed. "Did we ever get any contact from them?"

"Not that I know of. If anyone did, it wasn't one of us." The first supply worker shrugged.

"HEY!" The same first Demon jail guard hollered from down the hallway of cells. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll ask the commander to crucify you right this instant, you hear?"

"What does it matter? Just a few hours anyway, right?" Hank mocked. "Can't let a dead man speak for a while?"

The other supply workers grinned, laughing along with Hank as they watched the infuriated Demon guard storm back up the hallway to Hank's cell. Without a word, the guard opened the cell door, unlocking the grill to Hank's horror. Before Hank could even utter a word, the guard brandished a wooden baton-like stick, immediately smacking Hank in the head repeatedly. Hank couldn't dodge a single blow, his movements hindered by the chair as he attempted to squirm away, but the narrow, cramped cell allowed the guard towering over his collapsed body to hit him over and over again.

"You're killing him! What the fuck?!" The first supply worker cried out in anger, but the guard continued hitting Hank over and over again until Hank was bruised all over. His originally pale skin was turned a blotchy mess of purple and fresh bright blood, bleeding from his head, while his face was nearly unrecognizable from the swelling.

The beating went on for three minutes, the first supply worker's complaints dwindling down with each blow. The guard finally stopped, leaving the shivering mess of Hank locked in the cell once more. The bloodied stick now dripping along the hallway was more than enough to shut the rest of the townsfolk up lest they ended up like that. Hank could barely talk, his body a wreck of arcing pain that lanced all over his nerves and skin, every part aching and beaten bloody. He bit down on his own lips, trying to hold out long enough over the hours, but something in him was ready to give up the ghost. Looks like it's the end of the road for me...

The hours passed, and with the first rays of daylight streaming through the narrow windows of the cell came Hank's imminent execution. Hank didn't sleep at all, unable to even wipe the tears of pain off his cheeks when the guards came for him. The same two guards were the ones to haul him out of the cell, and the other supply workers and townsfolk were all too afraid to speak out anymore as he was carried through the hallway. Just as they reached the middle of the hallway, a third guard came sprinting towards the two, panic written on his face.

"No time for execution; the commander just received word that the reinforcements got ambushed!"

"What?" The two guards were flabbergasted, exchanging confused glances when a sudden loud klaxon blared across the town, the siren's meaning clear to every Demon. "Shit! What do we do with the prisoner?"

"Put him back in the cell or something, we need to gear up and move! Already a third of our force have left!" The third guard waved frantically. He rushed out of the jail, while the two guards were equally flustered. Hank was still held by the two of them, his bruised eye meeting the eye of the second supply worker sitting cross-legged past the metal grill. The second supply worker nodded grimly, standing up and moving closer to the grill.

"Right, let's move this bitc-" The first guard barely got the words out when Hank suddenly slammed him with a headbutt, the first guard staggering backward in a daze towards the second supply worker's cell grill. In one swift motion, the second supply worker reached out with his arm past the gaps, wrapping around the first guard's neck and strangling him.

Hank was dropped onto the floor, the second guard immediately letting go and taking out his wooden stick, intending to free his colleague. However, another hand from the another cell behind the second guard stretched out, yanking his ankle and tripping him over. The second guard fell right next to Hank, allowing Hank to headbutt him before he could try to free himself, knocking the guard into a daze.

The second supply worker used his other free hand to snatch the keys from the suffocating first guard, using it to unlock his own door. He lifted his own foot against the grill, pulling his arm as hard as he could and ignoring the pain. The first guard flailed his arms in a bid to wrestle out of the strangle but to no avail. Within ten seconds, the first guard's eyes rolled to the back of his head, falling unconscious from the lack of air to his head. His body flopped to the ground, and the second supply worker immediately rushed out and stole the first guard's stick.

The second guard groaned, still trying to kick his ankles free of the tight clutch by the other townsman opposite. He opened his eyes to see a stick swinging down onto his head, the coarse splintered surface crushing his nose and cheekbone in repeated swings. His face was bashed bloody before the supply worker rushed to the other cells, using the keys to free all of the captured townsfolk. "Quickly, grab the weapons and armor!"

Hank was eventually freed, but the beating from last night made him weak, his balance unsteady. Despite the temporary freedom, they were still trapped in the jail, any guard that re-entered would eventually report their escape. "We have to get out of here, spread out, run away." Hank urged.

"No, didn't you hear the guard just now? They are moving out to save the reinforcements from an ambush!" The first supply worker explained as he rifled the first guard's pocket for anything useful and tied him up.

"Which means this is the best time to strike. They won't be expecting a prisoner to escape right now. We're just meters away from one of the spare weapons storehouses. It's right next to the jail." The second supply worker nodded. "Now is the right time to fight! Let's get out of here first!"

Sure enough, as soon as they had left the jail, they noticed Violet Demons scrambling to and fro in the distance. The escaped townsfolk quickly scurried into the adjoining storehouse. The supply workers used the stolen sticks, taking the storehouse's only guard by surprise and knocking him unconscious. Within minutes, the crates of stocked weapons were bashed open, rifles and pellets arming all of them. "Distribute them to the town, get them to fight, now!" Hank ordered.

With the proverbial floodgates of weaponry now open, the townsfolk snuck into the streets, using the distraction of the Violet Demons to arm everyone they could get to in time. However, their movement wouldn't have gone unnoticed for long, some of the Demons spotting the escapees. "They broke into the storehouse! Stop them!"

Small skirmishes erupted all over the town, and the Violet Demons were now torn between mobilizing to save the reinforcements and defending the town. "We need to take out the spires, quick!" Hank pointed towards the tallest spire. Makeshift covers of crates, wagons and other signboards were placed out on the street in a bid to shore up their defenses. Some townsfolk tried to shoot towards the arcia power generators, but the large spire easily negated all of that, small arcia bolts firing rapidly to knock down the pellets with split-second reactions. Fred, the enforcer who was tied to the top of the spire, was screaming at the top of his lungs, but no one could hear him over the din of pellet fire, battle cries and shouts.

Still, the proliferation of weapons was spreading rapidly, and more and more townsfolk were coming to join the fight. Even the kids were armed with rifles, pushing them to fight. Despite their numbers, they had little to no training in shooting the rifles, their marksmanship not as good as the Demons. Casualties were starting to mount up as the townsfolk were slowly suppressed by the trained Demons. The small hope that had blossomed in Hank's heart was starting to dwindle, and it hit rock bottom the moment he saw the commander standing at the base of the central spire, speaking into the arctech radio.

[People of Culdao Peaks Town. This is your first and only warning. Do not think you are irreplaceable. Stand down, or you will be killed.] The commander's voice was carried through the town by repeater radios.

"Go ahead, kill us. Then there wouldn't be anyone left to work for you!" The first supply worker shouted back, earning a cheer from the nearby townsfolk. Hank gripped his own rifle tightly, knowing it was do or die.

[So be it. Demons kill on sight. I want all townsfolk dead in three hours.]

What? Hank couldn't believe what he was hearing, and it wasn't long before he heard a distinctive thud from nearby. He looked up to see the first explosive mortar round sailing through the dawn, launched from the spire towards a group of huddled townsfolk holding out in a nearby building. The mortar round smashed through the wooden ceiling with ease, exploding the frame into a fiery ball that billowed outwards, incinerating those within with harrowing screams.

"He, he is actually killing us! By Yual alive!" The first supply worker gasped as the townsfolk's morale plummeted, all of them now knowing that the commander was serious.

Another round of distinctive thuds was heard again, this time their number uncountable and a bit more distant, driving fear into Hank's heart as he screamed out. "Take cover, take cover!"

"Wait, look! The mortars are coming from outside the town!" The second supply worker pointed. Hank watched as countless trails of smoke arced across the sky, diving in towards the town. At the top of the large spire, the surface began to glow green, and a large arcia bolt was trying to shoot out. However, Fred's body was strapped to it, the bolt instead incinerating and searing a gaping hole that severed his body through his guts. The lower half of his body dangled down, held on by strips of meat while Fred couldn't scream any longer, his lungs ruptured.

The various spires around town shot out in a furious barrage, relentlessly targeting the incoming mortar shells. At the peak of their arc, the first mortar shell exploded, sending deadly miniature bombs towards the ground in a directional burst. The commander sneered at the sight as the spire next to him surged with energy, immediately accommodating the increased number of incoming projectiles. "Those idiots think we haven't learned anything from the war? You're going to need more than a dozen of them to overwhelm each spire."

Just as he finished his words, each of the countless mortar shells burst out into miniature bombs as well, blanketing the entire sky like a impending locust swarm. The commander's eyes widened as the spires began to overheat, his heart already knowing that the spire wouldnt be able to accomodate that many. "Retreat, retreat!"

Both the townsfolk and the Demons scattered like the winds, scrambling for any sturdy cover they could find as a hailstorm of explosives fell upon the town. The bombs blew craters into the dusty dirt road, damaging buildings and killing both sides alike. A cluster hit the base of the spire before the spire could react, the arcia power generators igniting in a deadly explosion of blue flames, coating the entire central square in a sea of fire. Demon guards screamed as their skin melted under the intense heat, while explosive shells stored in the depots were all triggered as well. Those who survived kept low to the floor, the ensuing explosions rocking the entire town in a wave of destruction and overwhelming firepower. The tremors shook the very earth, blasting the town and its buildings into a destroyed mess.

The smoke barely cleared as pellet fire and fighting could be heard once more again from the edges of the town. [It's the Seven Snakes, they are attacking us with their full force!] A Demon reported over the radio to the commander as the commander shrugged off a fallen wooden panel, shaking off the dust.

"It was a diversion! Recall the troops quickly!" The commander bellowed.

"But the reinforcements-"

"Fuck the Cretins. We're about to lose the Culdao Peaks town! Get the engineers out there to repair the spires before the Aurtlas come!" The commander cursed. Yet there was nothing anyone could do, not while the arcia fuel was still burning bright around the spire. True to his words, the Aurtla planes could be already seen flying in from a distance, two high above the town, with one flying extremely low.

"Give me the damn momentum spike launcher!" The commander snatched a cylinder tube-like launcher from a nearby Demon and shot the projectile loaded within at the low-flying Aurtla. However, the Aurtla suddenly jerked, the velocity changing rapidly as its wings flared backward, slowing down tremendously. The projectile sailed outwards helplessly, missing it entirely while five figures dropped out from the open cabin of the Aurtla onto the dirt road leading straight to the central spire.

The Demons instinctively ducked as the Aurtla swooped over them, while the commander belted out orders one after the other. "Form a defensive line around the spire! Use the arcia fire as a deterrent, there's no way they'll get through-"

A lone figure burst through the blue flames, the fire parting on both sides as it covered the distance in five long strides. Two Demons tried to shoot at the figure, but the pellets barely dented the black armor lined with pulsating blue arcia traces. The figure's path was erratic, as if it had thrusters on all angles of its armor, allowing it to swerve through the incoming barrage. The commander had no time to react, only able to watch as the figure closed the gap, slicing horizontally in a spinning slash with an arctech spear that took the heads of the two Demons cleanly off. Their neck stumps exploded nearly instantaneously, leaving blown-out bodies that struck fear into the defending Demons.

The commander instinctively raised his two forearms in a cross block, blocking an incoming frontal stab of the spear. His body skidded back in the dirt road mere inches, but the commander held a wide grin on his jubilant face. "Alvin Teras! How nice of you to deliver yourself to me in person! Today is the day that I, Feren-"

"Do I know you?" Kyle interjected.

"You will after-"

A rupturing explosion blossomed on his right arm, his entire arm and chest blown into a mess of bones and blood as he fell dead in an instant. Kyle barely gave the corpse another glance, setting his sights on the remaining Demons who shuddered in their armor. "Looks like there's still no shortage of second-rate thugs. Niko, Monica - kill them all."