Annie stood close to Nemir, waiting for her chance to contribute. The Silver-ranks in front of them battled against the encroaching horde, their weapons flashing as they cut through the goblins.

  Come on, she gritted her teeth. Let me get in there.

  The earlier battle had left her wanting for more. Every slash, thrust, and parry had been a step towards understanding her Aura. She’d still need to advance to Iron V before she attempted to fully manifest it, but with everything that happened, Annie felt like that final step wouldn’t be much of a hurdle.

  The sound of steel clashing and adventurers shouting reached her ears, and the only thing that did was make her heartbeat quicken in excitement. Annie gripped her spear tighter, watching for an opening.

  Their makeshift defenses effectively neutralized the goblins' numerical advantage. But that wouldn’t last. Goblins might not have been the smartest monsters around, but they wouldn’t just keep walking into a meat grinder. Sooner or later, they were going to realize their walls didn’t extend all that far, and when that happened, things were going to go sideways quickly.

  Currently, the only thing keeping them alive was the gear Rowan so selflessly gave out. Not just because of its utility—thought that certainly helped—but because of the hope it represented.

  As her mother liked to say, give an adventurer a new sword and he’ll be ready to hunt a dragon.

  Suddenly, a spot opened up. A Silver-ranks Aura faltered, leading to a hobgoblin landing a blow that caused the adventurer to hiss in pain. Just as quickly as that happened, he was pulled back and Annie surged forward to replace him.

  One moment, she was standing behind a protective wall of high-leveled adventures, and the next she was facing down a hobgoblin twice as tall as her and at least eight times her weight. But she wasn’t alone. Nemir appeared next to her, his greatsword already in motion.

  It impacted the hobgoblins club with a dull thud, stopping it in its tracks just long enough for Annie to activate her skills.

  [Piercing Thrust] combined with [Deadly Precision] to mimic an Expert-level skill. The tip of her spear slid into the monster's gut, and [Sweeping Strike] spilled its guts all over the ground. But as quickly as they dealt with one, another soon took its place.

  The monster's corpse was thrown back as another hobgoblin entered the fray, swinging a rusted-looking sword straight at Annie’s neck.

  [Danger Sense] allowed her to duck under its attack, and an arrow from above pierced through its eye a heartbeat later. Annie didn’t let it distract her. With how liberally she was using her skills, she didn’t have long before she grew exhausted, and Annie planned on milking every single one of those to the fullest.

  A fight of this scale was rare—at least in a place as remote as Litwick—and every wasted second amounted to hours of training. There was a qualitative difference between a spar and real battle. In a spar, her chances of getting truly hurt were slim to none, but here, every exchange could spell her end.

  She glanced to the right where aunty Quinea stood like a wall against the approaching monsters. Even with one arm, her spear blurred through the air, each thrust finding its mark. The golden glow of her Aura flickered to life in between each attack, showcasing a level of skill that wasn’t often found this far south. But then again, she wasn’t from around here.

  Annie refocused on her task, thrusting, slashing, and parrying as fast as her body was able. But she didn’t stop there. Once she was seemingly at her limit, Annie dug deeper and forced her body to move.

  Every muscle tensed, every tendon pulled taut, every synapse fired.

  Her spear tore through a goblins throat with frightening speed, quickly followed by taking off a hobgoblin's arm.

  For a heartbeat, the stars aligned and Annie felt a presence welling up inside her. Not the deep, overwhelming one most books described, but a faint, feather-light touch of something that hung just out of reach.

  Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

  Annie grinned.

  That was twice in one day she’d managed to touch upon her Aura of Haste, which was a feat rarely accomplished by warriors not at the peak of Iron.

  Aunty Quinea caught her eye, flashing a quick smile before returning to her assault.

  They fought like that for a little while longer, their weapons reaping lives with each skill used. But then, a shout from above drew their attention.

  “QUINEA!” Rowan’s voice broke through the din of battle. “ON MY SIGNAL, RUSH THEM!”

  The Guildmistress of Litwick glanced in his direction, giving a small, barely perceptible nod.

  What is that idiot planning? Annie thought, deflecting a wayward thrust.

  As quickly as he appeared, Rowan rushed back to his position on top of the ramparts, gone from sight.

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Annie’s eyes widened in abject surprise, her jaw dropped, her grip tightened around the shaft of her spear to an almost painful degree.

  She thought he’d maybe learned a new spell, or maybe had an item in that ring of his capable of turning the tide of battle, but seeing Rowan fling himself off the wall wasn’t something Annie expected to see.

  He flew through the air on a current of wind, soaring above the battle as their mages forced the shamans to shield, hiding him from their view.

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  He’s going for their casters, she realized, her head snapping to Quinea.

  Her aunt had a similar expression on her face—equal parts bewilderment and disbelief—but it quickly shifted into one of determination.

  If Rowan managed to occupy the shamans for even a minute, that would open up their own casters to rain death and destruction down on their foes. It could win them this battle in one fell swoop, and the only thing they were risking was that absolute fucking idiot getting killed in the process.

  Thankfully, Quinea didn’t waste any time.

  “ROTATE!” she shouted, holding the center as the true powerhouses replaced them at the front.

  Nemir and Annie slid back, with Laith and the other peak Silver-rank adventurers taking their place. Once they were all in position, Quinea signaled the attack.

  “ADVANCE!” her voice boomed across the battlefield, the Adept-level skill [Duty’s Call] in full effect.

  A lithe-looking rogue charged forward, her daggers taking a life with each lightning quick slash. Next to her, a mountain of a woman—rivaling Nemir in size—moved like an avalanche, clad in steel plate and wielding a sword and shield. She wasn’t fast, or agile, but there was a weight behind each one of her attacks.

  Laith cast a quick [Rock Shot] at one of the hobgoblins, causing him to flinch for just long enough to lodge an axe in its skull.

  It was a slaughter, in the truest sense of the word, but Annie found her gaze drawn to where Rowan landed.

  Nemir’s hand landed on her shoulder. “We have to move.”

  His voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and a moment later Omi appeared next to them.

  “Am I drunk, or did he just fling himself off the wall?”

  “Yes, he did,” she answered. “And I have a feeling he’s going to be needing some help sooner rather than later.”

  “Well,” Omi cracked his neck. “What are we waiting for?”

  The three of them surged forward, with Nemir at the front, Annie to his right, and Omi following from behind. It was a familiar formation. One that made the lead weight in Annie’s stomach lessen ever so slightly.

  They exited the safety of the makeshift walls next to another group of adventurers, and the sight that greeted them made Annie’s jaw tighten.

  Here in the open field, the goblins were unrestrained. They were able to utilize their advantage in numbers to the fullest. But then again, being in the open had certain advantages for the adventurers too.

  Skills flashed—ones that required more room than just a narrow passage.

  Not one to be outdone, Annie did the same.

  The three of them followed behind Quinea and the other Silver-ranks as they carved a bloody swathe through the horde. They might not have been the tip of the spear, but they were more than capable of guarding their flanks.

  A particularly large goblin lunged at them, screeching in that guttural tongue of theirs. Nemir returned the monsters bellow, swinging his massive greatsword and carving the monster in half.

  Annie used the opening to rush ahead. She thrust her spear into an unsuspecting goblins neck, slicing to the side and severing its head. Then she dismembered another with a quick [Sweeping Strike], her momentum growing.

  Each move led into another, and Annie could feel something building up. Her body seemed to almost move on its own, with the time she needed to react growing shorter with each passing second.

  It took her three more kills before the enchantment on the spear triggered. Not that she needed it. [Wind Dance] had already been active.

  The pseudo Skill was Annie’s own doing, with the hours she spent drilling these movements and the Insight she acquired making it possible. All the spear did was guide her through the technique, and without her doing the bulk of the work this wouldn’t have been an enchantment usable in battle.

  Her spear was a training aid, but thankfully, it was also wicked sharp.

  “Space!” Annie shouted as lunged forward, releasing her grip and letting the spear fly through her grip, grabbing it at the last second.

  Nemir and Omi didn’t question it. Both of them jumped back, giving her room to work with. A grin tugged at her lips. It was deeply gratifying to see how finely honed their teamwork had become, all that time in the yard proving worthwhile.

  With her spear fully extended, Annie started moving.

  She used the energy from her thrust to swing her spear to the side, tensing her arm and following with her body. The gleaming edge sliced through a goblins wrist like a hot knife through butter, not slowing her down in the slightest.

  [Danger Sense] flared. Annie pulled her spear back and dodged to the side, managing to avoid an arrow. But even with the setback, she didn’t let her skill fall. Turning her dodge into a roll she once more threw her arm forward. Her spear flew out of her hand, the tip piercing a goblins skull right as she grabbed it.

  Explosions in the distance tried to distract her. There were spells being thrown, yet Annie clamped down on her worry with a vice-like grip.

  Quinea and the Silver-ranks were going to reach him first, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something else she could focus her efforts on.

  This was still a battle, and after they saved that lunatic there would still be goblins to kill.

  So why not get ahead of it?

  The mages on the walls had the same idea. They focused their spells to the sides, thinning the herd as they pressed the adventurers' expanding column from two directions.

  It was a chaotic sight. Goblins howled in agony as the weapons of adventurers ended their lives, the smell of blood and steel hanging heavy in the air. But Annie had her little corner of the world to pay attention to, so that was exactly what she did.

  Her momentum grew, with her speed growing in turn.

  Annie became a whirlwind, utilizing every point of Strength, Dexterity, and Vitality to the fullest. Goblins died in droves around her, throats cut, limbs dismemberer, guts spilled. Her breathing grew ragged and her muscles protested, but Annie didn’t let that slow her down.

  It wasn’t until she’d created a bubble of safety in the middle of the battlefield that she started to flag. Instead of tiring herself out to exhaustion, Annie pulled her spear back, halting [Wind Dance].

  Sweat dripped from her brow, her arms and legs cramping up.

  “Fuck,” she hissed, setting her stance as a warg and its rider galloped towards them. Unfortunately for them, a certain archer took offense to that. An arrow blurred from the wall, piercing through the wargs skull. Before it could fall, another followed, taking out its rider with pinpoint accuracy. Annie might have been imagining it, but she thought she heard a familiar “Ha!” come from behind.

  Her bubble of safety didn’t stay empty for long though. A loud snarl drew her attention to the left where a large hobgoblin menacingly made its way towards her. The sight should have probably scared her at least a bit, but Annie only found her excitement growing.

  She felt pretty confident she’d be able to take out this monster on her own. But then again, she wasn’t alone.

  Omi suddenly appeared behind the hobgoblin, his daggers flashing as two slashes cut its tendons.

  It let out a shout that was equal measure pain and surprise, but it was cut off when Nemir barreled towards it, knocking away its club with a sword covered in a red haze. His second swing cleaved the hobgoblin from shoulder to hip, the only sound being the tip of his sword thudding against the ground.

  Annie’s smile widened. Even as more goblins, hobgoblins, and wargs rushed towards them, she felt no fear.

  Rowan was definitely going to have a story to tell after this battle was won, and Annie had no plans on leaving this battlefield without a few of her own.