Four years had passed since my first battle, and now I watched from the holy army's camp as a vast city of black stone lit by greenish flames that burned in every alcove, a massive metropolis equal parts imposing and terrifying. The capital and center of operations of the Shadow Army and the Shadow King himself.

  — You know, it makes me wonder if they have, like, college degrees,— a soldier said, stopping next to me and pulling down his pants. Starting to urinate, he kept talking: — I mean, you need architects to build things like that, right?

  — Yeah, I guess you're right — I shrugged, unfazed. — They can talk, after all, they just hate us with all their might, so maybe they'll be able to organize themselves anyway.

  Facing that city under siege, the last stand of the shadow army and the heart of the Demonia's Champion's forces made me reflect on my journey up to that point.

  My bones broke, my skin split, I was torn, burned, crushed, pierced, cut and shot, and more than once I was sure that this would be my end. I saw friends and lovers, companions and acquaintances dying in every possible way, Maicon, Conrad, and Coruja in the first months, then Victor, Daniela, Matilde, and Laerte in the second, and many, many more after that.

  — Ha, ha — I laughed softly.

  — What? — asked the pisser.

  — I was just remembering some old friends, that's all.

  — Geez! Get out of here, what bad luck, huh! — the man quickly got dressed again and left. — If you want to survive, you better think about a childhood passion or something, you know! Here's a tip!

  — A passion, huh? — I couldn’t think of anything like that. — Like, a goal? — In that sense, I remembered my late friends and girlfriend.

  Maicon was an ordinary man, like me, and the first friend I saw die with my own eyes. Conrad died about two months later, shortly after buying a stone tombstone for his father. Owl survived for a whole year, and only lost his life after obtaining his revenge against the monster that led the attack on his village, having been mortally wounded in the fight against it.

  — Come to think of it, from then on, almost everyone I met was like that — after a year of casualties, the overwhelming majority of the remaining soldiers had a dream to fulfill after the war, or were looking for something on the battlefield, and very few were those like me, who stopped there just to try to make a life. — It's no surprise that this kind of superstition developed.

  — STAND BY! — the leader of the upcoming operation roared, summoning his scattered forces in the camp.

  Sighing, I lowered the visor of my metal bascinet helmet, and walked to the indicated spot.

  Yes, in the last four years I had managed to at least assemble a set of relatively decent armor pieces, buying bits here, collecting bits there (though looting was illegal, and the spoils of the fallen belonged to the Holy League, smuggling such items was common among the infantry). So I had outfitted myself with quality fabric, leather, chainmail, and steel-plated legs, greaves, breastplate, and helmet, as well as a number of belts and saddlebags and a myriad of other tools that had proven their worth over the years.

  Furthermore, after so many life-and-death confrontations, my Levels inevitably rose as well.

  So, my Attributes were like this:

  Name: Haicard of Wrong Way

  Level: 9

  Strength: 8

  Perception: 8

  Occultism: 4

  I hadn't invested any points in Occultism, as instructed by my superiors, even though I had gotten myself into trouble due to "improper distribution of Attribute points" before, since to make any use of that Attribute, I would need to know some Spell first, and these were kept as valuable secrets by artisans and guilds, who preferred to sell enchanted and single-use objects, rather than teach the masses how to use a third of their strength even in times of war. Still, I found myself one, or rather, a few steps ahead of common farmers and workers and even ahead of average-ranked adventurers.

  I even had a good chance of winning a duel against an Orc between Levels three and four, which may not seem like much until you remember that the base Strength Attribute of a member of that species is 5.

  — Pay attention! — Duke Constance began speaking from atop a wooden box. — Your target this time is the Northeast Elevator of the Abyss City. Now that we have taken the stairs, it is one of the eight elevators and the only access points that the enemy can use to ambush the main forces during the siege. No matter what, you cannot fail in this assault. The leader of this operation will now explain to you the details of each of your roles. — With that, the noble commander made way for a Knight, then headed towards a tent where the nobles of the most prestigious birth were discussing with the representative of the Queen, who ruled alone, the master historian, as well as a member of the clergy, whose presence was more of a formality than a function.

  I started to listen about our positions in the upcoming operation, dictated by the Knight. That's right, somewhere along the way, the roles I had come to play in the war took on greater and greater significance, as the shadow army was cornered.

  And yet, I was not even part of the main forces. In all those years, I had never seen the Hero or his Heroic team within a distance of a few good minutes' march.

  There were benefits, however, that came with being a veteran, so just a little less disposable.

  — Frontline, forward! You will now receive your Strengthenings — the task leader instructed us, a woman with a single streak of white hair, and we did so.

  And suddenly, half a dozen Mages began chanting incantations, conjuring magic circles beneath our feet. Soon, we were all enveloped in bolts of light, and our Strength and Perception increased by +1 point.

  To the uninitiated, that might not seem like a big difference, but it actually made us a tenth more powerful and increased our chances of survival significantly. Of course, it didn't compare to the myriad of Strengthenings that covered and re-covered the nobles and commanders of the army, which made them true super elves, and made them so bright that they emitted enough light to irradiate an area several seconds' march away without the need for torches.

  — Now, march! To the northeast! — the commander ordered.

  And so we all set off for the next battlefield.

  ?

  The wooden elevator was embedded in the black walls and cliffs at the bottom of the abyss and was surrounded by a small fortress following the same architectural style as the city, incredibly angular, sharp, and lit by greenish torches.

  The path to the fortress was also lined with tall posts which, before being extinguished by our scouts, burned with green light. In fact, the entire bottom of the chasm was surprisingly well lit by the sinister flames that burned on all sides in alcoves, torches and lamps, the color of the fire owing to the fact that the burning material was not coal but some other component supposedly coming straight from Hell; just as Paradise roamed the world above the clouds, Hell lay very deep within the earth itself, and some speculated that there were passages to it after all.

  However, even with all that green light, if someone looked into the abyss from the surface, they would see nothing but darkness due to a protective Charm that prevented the bombing of the city.

  — And another funny property is that this place doesn't flood when it rains because the rock that makes up the ground here is very porous and absorbs water faster than it can accumulate — I explained to the soldier next to me during the walk to our objective.

  — Yeah, cool... — he grumbled.

  Besides Levels, equipment and everything else, over the years I had also realized that I wasn't exactly a solitary hermit and enjoyed the presence of other people... even though that colleague didn't seem to like me that much. The bad news must have spread by word of mouth through the old pisser.

  Well, what to do?

  I shrugged and focused on the goal ahead. There was no more time for small talk anyway.

  We continued through the darkness, using the rocks and crevices as camouflage to get as close to the fort as possible without being noticed. We were still a good few minutes' march away from the target walls, but it would be difficult to get any closer without being noticed, since the shadow army in the garrison had already been waiting for us since our scouts had turned off the streetlights that lit the way to the fort.

  We could only see each other due to the small glow emitted by the Strengthening granted to us. And that was how we saw our commander's hand rising, and then falling, giving the order to attack.

  In silence, we all dashed from our position, running at full speed towards the wall of the small fortress with a shield in one hand and a ladder in the other, while a line of archers fired at the enemy guards from our rear.

  — SACRED! — an orc shouted from the top of the wall, and the others all sprang into action.

  Bells rang, and a swarm of orcs occupied the walls. Enemy arrows soon reached us.

  — TUC! — an arrow shattered against my steel shield, failing to penetrate it.

  Fortunately, the Mages of the shadow army should all be concentrated in Abyss City, otherwise we would be in big trouble with such a small force.

  — KILL THE ONES WITH THE STAIRS FIRST! — one of the orcs roared.

  Unfortunately, I was one of those “with the stairs”.

  — Shit — I cowered under a hail of arrows and rocks thrown above me.

  Of course, I wasn't alone, and a group of soldiers protected my back, but I was still a prime target for the enemies, and to my left and right I saw other soldiers carrying ladders being shot down.

  That's when I saw an arrow whistling, cutting through the air and coming right at my neck.

  Yes, I saw it, just as a Level 1 person might see a stone being thrown at them. It was still a very fast projectile, but significantly slower than what one would expect from an arrow, and I was able to position the ladder in time to block the arrow, which embedded itself in the wood of the siege tool.

  As soon as the ladder touched a battlement in the wall, my companions began to climb the ladder's crossbars, and the orcs' attention turned to the more prominent invaders, giving me space to at least draw my sword.

  — Honestly, you can punish me as many times as you want, but I'm going to keep putting points into Perception — I commented to myself, getting in line to climb the ladder I'd built.

  Yes, I had been punished before for “improper distribution of Attribute points” for investing more in Perception than the holy army wanted; my rations had been reduced, I had been physically punished with whips, and I had been given degrading jobs. But I didn’t regret it one bit.

  Thanks to that insubordinate investment, I was able to notice things around me on the battlefield just a little more effectively than my comrades, but it was enough to save me from a myriad of life-or-death situations. Why, then, did my superiors prefer their soldiers to invest more in Strength? Because while I had a better chance of surviving, the damage I was capable of doinginflict was significantly lower as well. The ideal Attributes for commoner soldiers had been studied and calculated over the course of several sacred wars, and the consensus was that the current system was the best in terms of cost (subordinates killed) benefit (enemies killed). What was best for me wasn't necessarily what was best for my superiors, I quickly realized, but I couldn't care less.

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  — But the hard part comes now... — I grumbled, finally stepping onto the wall's walkway, flanked by the bodies of allies and opponents.

  The space we were in was very narrow and resulted in a drop of six steps, no more than three elves or two orcs could fight side by side, which might seem advantageous at first glance, but-

  — WAARGH! — roaring, an orc brought down his incredibly heavy blade, more like an overlong cleaver, on one of my allies, and the impact was so great that it cut straight through his layers of leather and cotton protection, nearly tearing off the man's left arm, which remained connected to his torso by only a thin strip of flesh. — URAGH! — with his shield arm useless, my ally could not protect himself from the second attack, which cut off his head in a single movement.

  My ally's dead body spun in place from the force of the blow that decapitated him, spraying pulsating jets of blood all over us, and plummeted down the wall shortly thereafter, only to be replaced by a new, and extremely nervous, elven soldier.

  Yes, orcs were significantly stronger than elves, being on average three heads taller, their bodies naturally muscular, with greenish skin, and prominent lower canines. And, as if their biological advantage was not enough, they still equipped themselves with as much steel as possible. For each enemy of that type we killed, two of us died, and the worst: every time an ally of mine died, I got closer to the front lines.

  — Shit...! — I reached for one of the trinkets hanging from my belts with one hand, and brought it to my mouth, then loaded it, and fired: — Fush!

  — RAARGH! — the orc was startled when a dart stuck itself in his cheek, near his eye.

  It was enough of an opening for two of my allies to plunge their blades into the enemy's least protected parts and throw him off the wall.

  I quickly reloaded my blowgun with a fresh bolt and set out to support the soldiers on the front lines. After all, the extra weight of equipment I had purchased and looted on my own was not just for decoration, but all served to increase my chances of survival, and the blowgun in particular was a choice made for its affordability, quietness, ease of producing its ammunition, compatibility with the ultimamora poison, and surprisingly steady aim.

  — TO THE ELEVATOR! — our commander shouted as we descended the stairs of the wall to the courtyard of the small fortress.

  — PROTECT THE ELEVATOR! — roared an especially large orc from the front of a defensive line of enemies that formed a semicircle around our objective.

  Our forces rushed toward the elevator and the last obstacle in our path. Unfortunately, however, we were not the only ones strategizing, and from the doors embedded in the wall behind us, a flood of enemies emerged.

  — BACK TO BACK! — our commander ordered, and we were forced to divide our attention into two fronts in the middle of the enemy fortress's courtyard.

  My blowgun wouldn't be enough to keep me out of hand-to-hand combat that time.

  While at that point in the war and in that particular charge the holy soldiers had the numerical advantage, in the middle of that courtyard we were tragically evenly matched by the orcs in numbers, it would be one to one, at least for a moment.

  — It's times like these that I wish I had invested more points in Strength...

  — RAAAARGH! — a huge, chainmail-clad enemy leapt at me, holding his falchion-cutlass with both hands in a blow powerful enough to, at the very least, knock me off balance.

  I couldn't just dodge either, since that would break the formation and could weaken all of our trapped forces. So I leaned my back against the soldier behind me, the same pissing soldier from before, and took the impact squarely on the steel shield in my left hand.

  — Kuh! — I gritted my teeth as the vibration of the impact shook me to my foundations. I managed not to fall to the ground only by sharing the weight of the orc's blow with my companion. — Hargh! — I thrust my straight sword into the space between the enemy's shoulder and neck, still bent over at the end of his attack, since the rest of his body was covered in thick leather and fur and plates of crudely forged steel.

  — Pathetic! — the orc shouted, pushing my sword away with his steel gauntlet, showing only a small wound from which greenish blood was running, but which barely hindered his movements. — THIS IS A REAL ATTACK! — in response, he brandished his blade, too heavy for a normal elf, at me once more.

  I took the blow with my shield again, and thanks to my Strength, almost three times greater than that of an ordinary person, I managed to block the cut without being thrown far away. However, not unharmed, of course: the blow was so powerful that my left arm was dislocated, coming out of position with an audible “plop!”.

  — Aargh! — that energy that runs through our veins in life or death situations eased the pain many times over, even though it hadn't completely extinguished it, and I managed to respond before the opponent followed that blow with an even worse sequence, and I stuck the tip of my weapon against his left shin, putting another cut on the enemy.

  — Haha! I broke your arm, and you scratched me. You and your Hero will die here today — I couldn't see his face behind the closed metal helmet, but I would bet the orc was smiling at that moment. But it wouldn't stay that way for long. — Urgh? W-What? Wargh...?! — The huge monster staggered back for a moment, his feet unsteady, then fell onto his back. With each passing second, it was clear that he was having increasing difficulty breathing. — What... with me?! — There was no point in explaining myself to an opponent on the verge of death, so I focused on putting my shoulder back in place, and replacing my companion on the left, who fell at practically the same time as my opponent. — Poison...?! Co...ward...! — With his last strength, the orc poisoned by the last berries that impregnated my blade died of asphyxiation due to paralysis.

  — You're, like, twice my height and I'm the coward for using a little bit of poison? — I tried to ignore the comment, but I ended up grumbling anyway.

  — Poison?! — The orc who killed the soldier to my left retreated, avoiding my thrust.

  Since that enemy already knew my ace up my sleeve, I probably wouldn't be able to defeat him in a one-on-one fight. And not only that, I didn't see myself in a vacuum, and clashes were taking place all around me, in which, to make matters worse and without any surprise, we were losing. It was difficult for an elf to defeat an orc in a duel, and most of the time the holy soldiers lost, only to put their neighbors in an even more complicated situation, who then had the impossible task of dealing with two orcs of at least Level: 3.

  If we had to hold out any longer, we would all be massacred, and none of my tricks would have been of any use in that situation. Fortunately, our role had already been fulfilled.

  — FIRE! — the commander ordered, and the archers who had covered us during the climb up the wall and had stayed behind fired a volley of arrows, then positioned themselves at the top of the wall.

  — Bwahr!

  — Urgh!

  — Huargh!

  Superior Strength or not, it would be a legendary feat to be struck by a hail of arrows and come away unscathed, and while steel plate armor could stop the projectiles, few had the funds to afford it (traffic control of this kind of superior equipment was much more strictly enforced, after all), and when they could afford a piece, few bothered to protect their backs, since if you were turning your back to an opponent on the battlefield, you were as good as dead. I didn't know exactly how the distribution of equipment among my enemies worked, but judging by the way they protected themselves, it must have been similar to our own, and even those huge opponents found themselves in trouble: the tables were turned, and we managed to cut down the enemies who came from our backs, those who weren't pierced by the arrows succumbed to our blades.

  The battle was far from won, however.

  — Boo!

  — Waargh!

  Two holy soldiers were thrown a good two meters into the air by the enormous war hammer of the one who seemed to lead the local enemy forces, an orc even taller than his peers, equipping a full set of steel armor, which left no gaps for cunning attacks.

  — A Shadow Knight... — there was no doubt, the superior power, the quality equipment, this was an elite member of the shadow army.

  If there was a positive side to this, it was that the enemy should only be a Knight, the third lowest rank among the nobles. Just like within the Holy League army, those more fortunate monsters had access to better equipment, Strengthenings, and even, due to their high position within their forces, the title of Unholy Warrior Priest, a superior version of Warrior Deacon, which granted two more points for each Attribute. If he had been a member of a higher class, after all, we would certainly already be dead.

  — BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE ENEMY COMMANDER! — our commander yelled, throwing a fireball at the last of the low-ranking orcs, whose armor turned glowing red from the heat, and roasted him alive.

  — Easier said than done... — I grumbled, positioning myself as far away from the enemy Knight as possible, but not far enough to be pointed out as a deserter and shot down by the holy soldiers behind me.

  Darts, poisons, caltrops and other cheap tricks would not work against that enemy.

  — ADVANCE! — our commander ordered, throwing a fireball at the orc knight.

  — Hurgh! — the enemy dispersed the flames with a blow of his warhammer.

  We all moved forward at once, but along the way I picked up a spear from one of the fallen orcs; the weapon was heavier and its shaft thicker than was comfortable, but it still put me a good few paces away from my target, so I shouldered the extra burden.

  — WAAARGH! — The orc Knight was not intimidated by the approach of our forces and shot towards us with his weapon raised above his own head.

  — Aah- — the screams of a fellow member of the Holy League were cut off when the one who spoke them had his head smashed into the ground by the enemy's hammer, armor and all.

  Still, those present were all veterans of four years of war, and we would not back down because of a single death: at the same time that I thrust with the heavy orc spear, my allies all threw themselves at the enemy commander, all of us aiming for any "gap" in the enormous orc's armor.

  — HUURGH! — The Knight spun on his right heel, brandishing his hammer like a hurricane, and throwing those who were slow to retreat away. He didn't stop there, however, and grabbed the nearest soldier by the helmet with his left hand, and used him as a shield against our commander's next fireball; he also threw my flaming ally at his comrades, knocking them down and spreading the voracious flames to two more soldiers of the Holy League.

  The orc had not come away unscathed from our last attack, however, and green springs were gushing from beneath the chainmail that protected the joints of his full steel armor; they were most likely only superficial wounds, but that was how battles against much stronger enemies worked, wearing them down little by little.

  And soon, we had another opportunity to advance on the orc knight as he sank his hammer into the chest of another of my companions.

  I focused on the back of his knee and, putting the full weight of the weapon into the thrust, pierced the chainmail, and the leather and cotton beneath.

  — Gurh! — That particular impact seemed to have bothered the enemy commander, as his injured knee weakened for a moment.

  And the orc Knight turned towards me, immediately breaking the shaft of my spear with a blow of his hammer and advancing towards me.

  — Damn...! — I quickly reached into a bag at my waist, grabbed a handful of caltrops and threw them in the enemy's path.

  — Kah! — The knight stepped straight over the iron spikes and stopped in his tracks, falling to one knee long enough for one of my companions to brandish his blade against his neck.

  It would have been a fatal blow, had the orc not stopped the blade with the palm of his left gauntlet. But there were many more of us present, and another soldier brought his axe blade down on the neck of the enemy on the other side.

  The blade never touched the orc Knight's neck, however, as a warhammer dented the axe-wielding man's helmet so badly that red jets gushed through the two holes that provided its wielder with vision.

  — Hurgh! — I stepped forward, then brandished my sword against the opening of the Orc Knight's eyes. — No chance! — I cursed, retreating and leaving my sword behind when the enemy raised his face just in time to avoid a fatal blow, receiving the tip of my blade in the zygomatic bone instead of in his left eye.

  — Vush! — after all that, however, he was unable to escape the following fireball fired by our commander, which completely enveloped his helmet, like a kind of flaming glue.

  — Huaargh! — The orc Knight stood up and pushed the rest of us away with his hammer with one hand, while with the other, he removed my sword from his face, and then stripped off his helmet, revealing a face with a nasty cut, and even nastier burns. — You whore...! — He shot at the wall, forcing his way through our lines with wild blows of his hammer.

  — Tch! — our commander clicked her tongue, pointed a hand to the stairs that led to the top of the wall where she was, and began to cast a Spell.

  It took a moment too long, though, and the orc Knight was fast, probably having more than fifteen, maybe more than twenty points in Strength. The huge enemy was up the steps before she could interfere with him.

  — Ragh! Wagh! Urgh! — the Knight threw archers over the wall and straight to the ground, and crushed skulls with his hammer, getting dangerously close to our commander and her bodyguards. — Urg... Arf, arf...! — but the poison in my weapon was starting to take effect, and added to the fatigue of the long battle, his movements became slow.

  — It's the end of the Shadow King and his cursed army! — our commander proclaimed, causing a blue magic circle to appear under the orc. And an instant later, a pillar of fire slightly larger than its target exploded under the feet of the last living enemy in the fortress.

  The flames burned so brightly that we were unable to get more than a few steps closer, having chased the orc Knight to the top of the wall.

  And yetthe monster surprised us all when his hammer emerged from the flames, glowing red, knocking down our commander's bodyguards, the orc grabbing her by the neck right after, with his skin completely charred and smoking, all the metal that protected her body then glowing hot.

  The resilience of high-level creatures never ceased to impress, no matter how many times I saw it.

  But even they could fall: then his steel plate armor was too malleable to keep out the blades and arrows of some forty Holy League soldiers, including myself, who retrieved my sword once the orc had pulled it from his face.

  Finally the Shadow Knight fell to his knees, pierced half a hundred times, poisoned and charred.

  Our leader massaged her neck, even though she hadn't really been hurt due to a well-made gorget. Once she had recovered, she ordered:

  — Deactivate the elevator.

  We obeyed silently, disconnecting the counterweights from the device. Then our captain raised a magic wand and fired a signal into the dark skies of the abyss, signaling our success in taking the elevator.

  And we must have been the last to conquer the secondary objectives, for as soon as our leader signaled, the main forces, surrounding the Abyss City, began to advance.

  If our battle at a small side fortification had been so complicated, I could hardly imagine the extent of the difficulty of the war that was unfolding before my eyes below; the vast overwhelming majority of the high-ranking and noble members of the shadow army had been gathered in the City of Shadows. From what I heard, Knights as strong as the one we had so much trouble defeating served as foot soldiers in the Shadow King’s last stand, which contained monsters many times more powerful.

  But we also had an ace up our sleeve.

  — Haha. Insane — was all I could say when I saw a fraction of the Hero's power for the first time, hours of marching away from my position and in the dark. Well, when he used that power, suddenly the abyss wasn't so dark anymore.

  A semicircle of white light the size of an entire neighborhood struck the top of the Abyss City's wall squarely, and the countless Knights, and even a few Shadow Barons, simply... vanished. Reduced to nothing in a single strike before the battle had even begun.

  And the Hero's companions, the Heroics, were not far behind either, one of them summoning a huge horse of flames that flew straight at the gates of the Abyss City and broke them down in a single charge, another member of the same group ran vertically over the surface of the wall, multiplied himself hundreds of times and chopped up the army of shadows with his clones, each wielding a pair of daggers. As if that wasn't enough, from what I had heard, the Healer of the group of the Hero was very capable of reconnecting lost limbs, the soldiers who fought near her doing so with the certainty that they were nearly immortal.

  The distance between those like me and those like the Hero was like that between a weary sigh and a tornado.

  On that day, after many years of war, the Shadow King was finally slain by the Hero and his group of closest allies.