Desmond never made up with anyone. He stayed in his room, only coming out for food and water. There was a TV and a console in all our rooms, so he could feasibly disappear forever and pretend the outside didn’t exist. Maybe that was the point. Maybe hiding felt safer than fixing anything.
He should’ve come to see me.
Mary talked to him—God knows about what—but whatever she tried didn’t work. If her patience couldn’t reach him, then no one here could.
Eventually, everyone stopped trying. Not because we didn’t care—because we were tired. There’s only so many times you slam yourself against a closed door before you realize the hinges aren't what’s keeping it shut.
So we waited.
Floor five.
One fourth of the way there.
That number sounded impressive. Like something that should feel good.
But all I could think was... If this is the first quarter... how bad is the next? Games love difficulty spikes. Stories love escalation. Pain loves patterns.
We had buff items, health potions, and a pretty well-trained team. On paper, we looked solid—maybe even dangerous. But there was one thing we lacked.
Teamwork.
Real teamwork. We hadn’t worked together in groups larger than three, except that one attempt on Floor Two—more panic than coordination. More coincidence than synergy.
Not enough. Not close.
The white enveloped me before I could think further, swallowing sight and sound all at once. My stomach twisted—not from fear, but from the familiar teleportation lurch that never got easier.
Then it faded.
And we were there.
Together.
All of us.
There were eleven people around me—too many bodies, too close, all suddenly sharing the same oxygen like strangers crammed into an elevator. My vision sharpened and adjusted, dragging the world into clarity piece by piece.
We stood on a beach.
Wet sand beneath us.
Waves rolled in slow and heavy, dragging foam back into the sea like something stubborn being pulled against its will. Far ahead, mountains rose against the sky—sharp, jagged, almost unreal.
It should’ve been beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Because I couldn’t hear anything.
We were surrounded by nothing. Just sand, wind, ocean, and that distant wall of mountains. No enemies. No monsters. No...
Shing.
My senses snapped open like someone tore duct tape off my ears.
Sound crashed back into existence—cries, roars, stomping earth, metal, breath.
War.
Behind us.
I spun just in time to see the treeline erupt with motion. Hundreds—no, easily more—charged forward. Orcs. Not the one-size-fits-all caricatures most fantasy throws around.
These were variations—tribes.
Green, red, blue.
Eight feet tall. Some maybe twenty. The red ones stood out immediately—muscle-packed, veins glowing faintly like magma underneath skin.
The blue ones moved differently—controlled, calculating, eyes sharp rather than frenzied. Their roars had structure, cadence. Speech? Commands?
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The green ones were different—simpler. Their cries were primal, unfocused, like beasts running toward a meal.
Thinking, reasoning orcs?
Doesn’t matter.
Not right now.
Sosuke’s voice cut through the noise.
“Kill them before they get close!”
Before hesitation could form, he stepped forward and swung his sword in a brutal, fluid arc—clean, practiced, confident.
A crescent of compressed wind burst from the edge like a blade of invisible force. It screamed across the sand toward the orc line.
And when it hit?
Chaos.
Bodies split open. Clean cuts through thick muscle and bone like they were made of paper. Blood sprayed upward in messy fountains. The front lines crumpled, collapsing into the sand in wet heaps.
Dozens died instantly—no resistance, no blocking, no slowing.
The close-combatants could only watch for now—Sosuke’s ranged devastation made moving in pointless. If we even wanted to.
The shock didn’t get a second chance.
Not here.
I broke from formation, sprinting left across the sand until I was clear of everyone’s line of fire. My shoes dug deep, kicking up waves of sand as I skidded to a stop. I inhaled—long, sharp—and spread my arms out wide.
Mana surged.
“Fireballs.”
Flaming magic circles spun to life across my arms, layering and overlapping like burning gears. Heat poured off my skin, distorting the air around me.
Thoom!
Fire screamed across the beach in a ceaseless barrage. Each spell detonated with a concussive snap that shook the sand beneath my feet.
The green orcs were the first to disappear. Clearly the weakest. The explosions swallowed them whole, bodies turned to ash before they even hit the ground. Not one survived contact.
The blue orcs resisted—skin tougher, stance disciplined—but even they were torn apart. Fire ate through muscle, leather armor, bone, leaving smoking craters where squads once stood.
But the reds—
They were different.
Some stumbled. Some fell. Some didn't even stop moving. Skin charred black, patches of fire clinging to them, flesh melting yet refusing to give out. Their footsteps didn’t slow. Their war cries didn’t weaken.
I lowered my arms, breath shaking. My fingertips were numb from the strain, and heat still radiated off my skin like I’d dipped my hands into an oven. A quarter of my mana—gone in seconds.
No time to regret it.
I pointed toward Sosuke. “Great Mana Enhancement.”
The crimson aura erupted around him—violent, pulsing, alive. His muscles tensed.
I forced air into my lungs. “Sosuke, use your strongest attack!”
The orcs were closing fast, red ones leading now. Still hundreds. Soon they'd be on top of us.
Sosuke shot me that cocky grin—the deadly one. "Read my mind.”
He thrust his sword skyward. A dark-purple aura—deeper than shadow, deeper than night—coiled around the blade until it looked like a tear in reality itself.
“Slow them.” Sosuke said quietly. “I need one minute.”
A minute? Against that many? That would drain me dry.
But I nodded. “Understood.”
A hand tapped my shoulder—Mei. Calm. Confident. Shadow already crawling across her fingertips.
“I’ll support you.” she said.
I didn’t ask how. I just trusted it.
I raised both arms high, clenched my teeth, and forced mana outward.
“Gravity.”
The magic spread like a suffocating invisible blanket across the battlefield. My vision flickered as mana drained rapidly—like water dumping through a broken dam.
The effect was immediate.
The orcs stumbled. Their steps grew heavy. Their momentum halted as if chains wrapped around their ankles.
Three times normal gravity—enough to crush a car, slow a monster.
My knees trembled. Mana bled out of me like air from a punctured lung.
Five seconds in and I already felt hollow.
Isabella appeared in front of me—silent as a ghost. She grabbed my jaw, yanked it open, and shoved a mana potion between my teeth.
Warm liquid burned down my throat, restoring mana like lightning rushing through dried wires.
“Keep going.” she said, then vanished to prepare another.
Mei raised a single hand in front of her face and snapped downward.
“Shadow Zone.”
Darkness erupted across the battlefield—thick, devouring, suffocating movement entirely. The orcs didn’t just slow.
They stopped.
The battlefield froze—like someone pressed pause on living war.
Sosuke stood unmoving, his sword still pointed to the sky, aura growing heavier. The pressure of it alone made my ribs ache.
Thirty seconds...
My arms felt like lead. Sweat rolled down my spine. The strain was dizzying.
Isabella appeared again and shoved another potion in my mouth.
Twenty seconds...
Ten seconds...
Another potion. My fingers twitched from overstimulation. This couldn't be healthy.
Five seconds...
The first orcs broke free of the shadows—barely, staggering forward, now only a tenth of a mile away.
Sosuke exhaled. “Dimension Slash!”
He swung downward.
The purple aura erupted into a massive arc—silent, endless, reality-splitting. It cut across the battlefield faster than anything I’d ever seen.
Every orc it touched... didn’t bleed. Didn’t scream. Didn’t fall.
They were disintegrated.
