Rowan flew through the air, his arms flailing as he tried to stabilize himself. It was a heady feeling, and for just a moment, the urgency of the battle receded.

  The sight from so far above left him breathless. He could see the horde of goblins beneath him, the adventurers fighting them off with ferocious momentum, their weapons gleaming as various Auras illuminated the battlefield.

  Shouts of surprise and panic followed in the wake of his jump, the mages and adventurers manning the walls not understanding what had happened—why he’d seemingly thrown himself into the jaws of death.

  They weren’t the only ones who noticed his departure. The goblins beneath him pointed up, raising an alarm.

  Alright, let’s do this.

  Sending a small burst of mana into the ring on his finger, Rowan activated its enchantment. A [Wind Barrier] sprang to life beneath his feet, protecting him from the arrows the goblins launched his way.

  As he reached the apex of his jump, Rowan looked around, searching for his target.

  Thank you, Velora, he grinned.

  The mage had shot him out towards the general direction of the shamans. If he did nothing, he’d land a little ways off—not to mention splatter on the ground. But Rowan didn’t plan on falling to his death, or missing the landing.

  [Feather Fall] activated, turning his drop into a controlled descent. Rowan guided it by repeatedly casting [Gust], the spell keeping him on course.

  Thankfully, Velora seemed to have taken control of the mages, realizing that for Rowan’s plan to work, he needed a distraction. Spell after spell erupted from the walls. [Water Bolts] and [Rock Shots], [Firebolts] and [Wind Blasts], forcing the shamans to keep their defenses up.

  Focusing, Rowan started casting.

  Mana shot out of his Core and through his channels, winding through them in a familiar circuit. It was a spell he’d mastered long ago, one that had saved his life more than once, one that would hopefully do so again.

  A tendril of flame erupted from his shoulder blades. Quickly followed by another, and another, and another.

  Rowan’s current maximum was eight. Yet with [Feather Fall] active, even four was pushing it. [Iron Will] showcased its worth once again, keeping his Intent clear.

  Keeping spells of different affinities active at once was a skill all its own, and while Rowan couldn’t say he’d mastered it, he was comfortable doing it.

  He fell towards the clustered shamans with whips of flame trailing behind him, ready to unleash a strike that would decapitate the goblins' assault.

  All he needed to do was survive the fallout.

  A few of the shamans looked up, their eyes widening in surprise and alarm, the unexpected direction of his attack leaving them disoriented.

  Guess this is it.

  Rowan cut off [Feather Fall], falling the rest of the way.

  He landed on the ground with a thud, bending his knees and getting to work.

  His spells shot out towards the shamans that noticed him first. Wrapping around its throat and throwing the monster into the group—knocking three of their feet, while another slammed a goblin into the ground, searing its face off.

  Confusion and panic shot through their ranks. Having an enemy fall on top of them wasn’t something they had expected, and Rowan planned on taking full advantage of their momentary lack of coordination.

  He swept the tendrils through their number, forcing his mana to flow quicker, his body to move faster.

  A shaman fell with each strike. Some tried to erect their shields, but Rowan simply wound a tendril around them, attacking from behind. It wasn’t a tactic one could normally use. You had to be up close to do it, and being close to a mage generally wasn’t a great idea.

  Heads fell, throats burned, shamans died.

  Rowan was a whirlwind of death and destruction among their number. He pushed more mana into his whip’s, the soft red glow turning into a piercing yellow. It wasn’t until only four were left that they managed to get their bearings.

  The sudden commotion had drawn attention, and as Rowan looked around, he could see hobgoblins eyeing him with bewilderment etched on their faces.

  One of them shamans frantically snarled something, pointing at him through its dome of water.

  Well, crap, Rowan thought, Now for the not so fun part.

  There was no way he’d be able to live through this on his own. His mana was dropping, and with the number of opponents closing in, it was nowhere near enough to deal with all of them.

  Standing there, in the middle of the enemy, Rowan strained his ears. The sound of battle wasn’t that far off. He set his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

  All I need to do is survive for a little while. How hard could that be?

  A shaman shot a [Water Bolt] at him and Rowan instinctually intercepted it with one of his whips. Thankfully, that particular shaman was just a Red-Core caster, but it still drained a portion of his reserves. Water was effective against Fire, even with a tier disadvantage.

  The spell hissed as it made contact with his own, trying and failing to overwhelm his Intent, dissipating just moments later.

  Idiot, he chastised himself. Dodge, don’t deflect.

  The goblins were closing in, circling him menacingly. They held swords and axes, spears and daggers, rusty and caked in dried blood. He could see their scarred faces, smell the sweat, hear their snarls.

  Rowan should have been scared, but all he felt was a strange sense of calm.

  He hadn’t made the decision to strike at the shamans without thinking it through. All the pieces he needed to survive were in play. With the shamans occupied, their mages could focus on the horde of goblins without worrying about reprisal. And with them clearing a path, Quinea and the adventurers had everything they needed in order to end this battle and come to his rescue.

  A few minutes, that’s all I need. No need to get fancy.

  He threw himself out of the way of a [Rock Shot], his eyes locked on the four remaining shamans. Rowan could see the fear and hesitation in their eyes, the panic that came along with losing a bulk of their number in such a quick and unexpected manner.

  Rowan couldn’t help it, he grinned.

  The goblins and hobgoblins were still circling, hesitant to rush him with the defensive web of his [Burning Whips] still lashing around him. But that couldn’t last. Just holding this many was draining his reserves, and if he emptied his Fire magic fully, he’d be in for a world of hurt.

  Coming to a decision, Rowan cut off the flow to two of the whips, withdrawing them back into himself. At the same time, he cast [Tailwind].

  The familiar feeling of being wrapped up in a cloak of weightlessness settled down on his shoulder. What he needed now wasn’t strength, but speed.

  Seeing his defenses fall emboldened the goblins, and with a sharp cry, they finally rushed him.

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  Rowan glanced at the shamans and then at the approaching enemies, quickly coming to a decision. With the Wind at his back, he turned around and ran. Not away from the battle, but towards the approaching goblins.

  He’d done all he could against the casters. Out of the cohort that had been there when he landed, only four were left.

  Seeing their chance, the mages atop the wall focused their fire on the enemy caster, forcing them to shield, preventing them from chasing after Rowan.

  He didn’t have enough mana to fight four of them at once. If he engaged, defending against their spells would quickly drain his reserves. His attack had done what it needed too, and while Rowan may have been surrounded by enemies, he wasn’t fighting alone.

  His [Burning Whip]’s lashed out, wrapping around a goblin’s throat and throwing it at an approaching hobgoblin. The creature flew through the air with a gurgled scream as the searing heat destroyed its throat. It impacted the hobgoblin with a dull thud, the beast snarling in frustration as it pushed the smaller monster away.

  But Rowan didn’t have time to celebrate. Another goblin rushed at him from the side, and if it weren’t for [Tailwind], he wouldn’t have been able to dodge its rusted spear as it thrust it at his back.

  He cracked him upside the head with the back of his hand, breaking its jaw in the process.

  More goblins came, and Rowan’s breathing grew ragged—his movements frantic, desperate even. The speed he gained from [Tailwind] was the only thing keeping him out of reach of their attacks.

  Each dodge, each strike, came at a greater cost. His whips cracked through the air, reaping lives, heedless of the price.

  Rowan fought harder than he ever had before, his perception focusing to a fine point. Every movement he made, every attack he sent out felt perfect. Like he’d performed them a thousand times before.

  A thrill bubbled up from the depths of his soul, and Rowan let out a booming laugh. His reserves were getting low, and he withdrew another whip, leaving only one.

  Yet he found that he didn’t care.

  Something was driving him forward. Coordinating his movements.

  Sweat dripped down his brow, mixing with the blood and grime that covered his skin. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from a strange blend of exhilaration and exhaustion. The goblins seemed endless, and he was slowly running out of steam, yet the grin never fell from his face.

  Suddenly, Kai was there. His familiar swooped down, sharp talons raking across a goblins face, blinding it in the process. He let out a fierce caw, his beak piercing through the monster's eye and into its brain.

  Kai didn’t stop there. He flew around Rowan like a sentinel, forcing the horde to split their attention or risk getting their throats torn out.

  That helped relieve some of the pressure, but there was only so much the two of them could do against such overwhelming numbers.

  Rowan elongated his whip, coiling it around himself, lashing out at anyone brave enough to approach. It worked for a while, with him and Kai creating a bubble of death and carnage in the middle of the battlefield.

  It wasn’t until a particularly large hobgoblin rushed him—swinging its massive club—that things took a turn for the worse.

  Rowan’s last remaining whip lashed out, striking the creature's face, but it wasn’t enough to stop its momentum. The hobgoblin barreled into him, sending him sprawling onto the ground, the breath knocked out of his lungs.

  Pain shot through his body as he hit the hard dirt. For a brief second, the world spun, that strange focus leaving, replaced by a sense of disorientation and dread.

  Get up, a voice spoke in his mind. Get up. Fight.

  Rowan wasn’t sure if it was his own, if it was even real, but he listened either way. He had too. The alternative was death.

  He tried to push himself up, yet his body barely moved.

  Broken ribs. Shattered collarbone. Fractured wrist, he diagnosed himself, his voice eerily detached, like he was hearing a healer through a thick curtain.

  He could see shapes closing in, a massive one standing overhead, its warhammer raised.

  Rowan tried to lash out with a whip, willing it to move. It was only when it didn’t that he realized what had happened. The fall had shattered his concentration. He was lying broken on the ground. Defenseless.

  [Iron Will] flared harder than it ever had before, clearing the fog from his mind and the stars from his vision.

  Rowan dredged up the last of his Fire mana and cast.

  His focus split in two. Half of his mana went into casting a [Fire Shield] while the other half moved to his palm, condensing into a [Fireball].

  The massive hobgoblin howled in pain, one hand clutching at its burnt face, the other swinging a hammer just as Rowan’s spell finished.

  The [Fireball] erupted from his hand, weaker than any he’d cast before. He didn’t have time to sharpen his Intent, or even fully fill the shell surrounding his spell, but from this close, it didn’t matter.

  It hit the monster dead center, blowing it away in a fiery explosion, its weapon flying through the air. Rowan felt his mana drop as the inferno hit his shield, and it didn’t take long for his Core to gutter out.

  That was it. He was spent. No more Fire mana.

  Get up, Rowan told himself. GET UP!

  He tried, forcing his body to move even as agony shot through his limbs.

  The explosion cleared while Rowan was still on his back, using his good arm to push himself upright.

  A goblin tried to rush him, but his protector took offense. Kai swooped down once more, his sharp talons tearing off the monster's face, its sharp cry swallowed up by the din of battle. But while Rowan’s familiar was occupied, another threat made itself known.

  A hobgoblin walked towards him, an ugly-looking sword covered in a familiar red glow held in its hands.

  Rowan dug at his Core, pulling at what remained of his Wind mana.

  The response was sluggish, his battered body rebelling against the demand. His mana had never felt this distant before, like it was buried beneath layers of exhaustion and pain. It crawled through his channels rather than surged, resisting his call.

  Not now. Move, damn you.

  The hobgoblin’s eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. It had seen him struggle. It knew he had nothing left.

  Rowan clenched his teeth, fighting to pull together even a single [Gust]—enough to buy himself a second, enough to move, enough to do something.

  The hobgoblin raised its sword.

  But death didn’t follow. Instead, a [Flame Lance] erupted from the wall, cutting through the air in a streak of blazing red. It struck the hobgoblin in the chest, searing through armor and flesh alike, punching clean through and sending the creature staggering back.

  The monster let out a gurgled, stunned noise, as if it hadn’t quite processed what had just happened. Then it collapsed, smoke curling from the gaping hole in its torso.

  Rowan stared.

  The heat of the spell still hung in the air, the scent of charred flesh filling his lungs.

  A ragged laugh escaped him. Not one of amusement—but one of sheer, delirious relief.

  His head tilted back toward the walls, searching through the chaos for the caster responsible. He didn’t need long. Even from here, he could recognize Velora as she shouted orders, coordinating the mages assault.

  Rowan grinned despite himself, exhaustion dragging at his limbs, but he wasn’t done yet.

  His mana still felt slow, but the jolt of adrenaline, the near brush with death—it helped. He forced his Core to cooperate, pushing the energy through his body.

  His fingers twitched, a breeze stirring. Not enough for a real spell, but enough to know he wasn’t done.

  With a pained hiss, Rowan pushed himself onto his knees.

  The mountain of bodies around him didn’t seem to deter the goblins.

  Three more rushed at him, and Rowan let his spell fly.

  The [Gust] wasn’t enough to end them as a threat, knocking them back and off their feet. But it didn’t have to. He had Kai for that.

  Rowan used the short moment of respite to down a healing potion. The cool liquid made its way down his throat, settling in his stomach. It started working on his injuries, lessening the pain just enough for him to stand.

  He looked around, a bloody, almost manic grin on his face.

  Then, Rowan reached into the Vault.

  In a blink, a weapon appeared in his grip—a longsword with a thin, silvered blade.

  Another hobgoblin roared and charged, its jagged axe covered in caked blood. Rowan raised his sword, muscles protesting as he moved. He wasn’t a warrior—his stance was sloppy, his grip imperfect—but he didn’t need to be.

  The moment the hobgoblin’s axe descended, the enchantment on the blade activated.

  [Parry].

  A burst of kinetic force rippled from the sword’s edge, knocking the axe wide and the sword from Rowan’s hand, but it staggered the monster just enough for him to summon another weapon—a spear with [Piercing Edge].

  The tip punctured through the hobgoblin’s crude chestplate, sinking deep enough to make the monster howl. Rowan didn’t try to pull it out. He didn’t have time. A normal goblin tried to barrel into him, and the attempt ended with a war-pick stuck in its skull.

  Rowan exhaled sharply. His breath was ragged, his body screaming at him to stop.

  But the goblins weren’t done, and neither was he.

  On and on it went, both him and Kai fighting against an neverending tide. He summoned a spear with [Guided Thrust] and pierced through a hobgoblin's knee, followed by a dagger with [Shock] that left another defenseless.

  A [Gust] threw a goblin back, yet another one soon took its place.

  Rowan dodged a sword thrust, ducking low before slashing across a goblins’ legs. Another one came from behind, and Rowan spun, using his momentum to drive a spear through its throat.

  Every movement felt like needles digging into his spine, but Rowan pushed through it.

  It wouldn’t be long before he fell. He knew that. Felt it in his bones.

  Rowan’s breath came in ragged gasps. His arms trembled, his legs felt like lead, and the world blurred at the edges. He staggered, barely keeping his footing as the goblins swarmed.

  Too many. Too fast.

  Then—

  A golden light cut through the chaos, its brilliance carving a path across the battlefield. The force of its passage sent the goblins reeling, their screeches drowned beneath the roar of splitting air.

  And then, it struck.