LIGHTS. SHINE. GLOW!

  Upon hearing news from Simulacrum that his teammates were under attack, Zan rushed to the White Chamber. Energy filled the chamber; light from the beyond shone. And in a massive glowing explosion, he was brought into the Backroads.

  Once in the Backroads, he made no effort to glance around or take stock of his surroundings. If he did, he would have seen what his body intuited; that something was wrong. As it stood, he only rushed headlong through the Backroads and only long enough to find his route to the Guygale portal.

  Through the portal and back in the living plane, he put his finger to his earpiece. "Jiehong! Whiskey! Can you hear me? Come in!"

  "Zan!" Whiskey replied. "We're doing the best we can to fight them off. But there is a lot of them. Jie saw Mentality among the horde! Come quick!"

  He didn't need to be told twice. He ran straight to the encampment. It was only a few leagues away from where the lodestone had been found. Highly convenient, for sure.

  Finally arriving back within the camp's proximity, he did not need to be pointed in the direction of the enemy. For, the enemy was everywhere. In groups of no less than six each, they swarmed the village and the distance between Guygale and their humble camp. Taking a moment to 'take in' the sight, he saw the one silver lining in this situation: 'I see very few gold golems. None of those platinum tipped golems, thank the gods!'

  He waded into battle, adrenaline coursing through his system. He saw the village's center in chaos as a few of the huts were destroyed while others were damaged. Warriors from the training camp were busy battling the automotrons. He wanted to help, but could he? He should help his Order fellows first, right?

  'Enough jabber!' he chided. 'Time to act!'

  He waded again to battle. This time he met the automotron foe headfirst.

  Crunch! Rip! Break! His blade descended into a golem and cleaved it in twain. He cleaved another automotron, then another, felling each as he did the first, with measured and practiced slashes meant to destroy in one slice. A red-painted golem approached him now -- or rather, he it, when his blade severed its head from its body, its limbs flailing helplessly. He took care upon the golem and cut it down permanently with a final stroke.

  He saw warriors from the training camp defending the mayor's hut up ahead. He would be there and to assist in their defense shortly. He had to cut down a few more normal golems first.

  Which he did -- quickly though at the cost of his brow becoming heated and sweat coming freely as he in the bath.

  "You guys, okay?!" he shouted once he cleared himself a path to the center.

  Panting, some of them shook. The clear leader among them said, "We're fine. Now that you're here helping us, anyway."

  "How long have you guys been at it?" he said, not knowing how long it was between when the attack started, the Screen Masters detecting the attack and he being told about the attack.

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  "Only a little while. The attack began maybe thirty minutes ago?" the lead warriors said.

  'Okay. Good! That means only so much could be destroyed. That means I am in time to turn the tide... hopefully!' he told himself.

  He saw another group of automotrons approach the village center. A younger him less wise to the currents of fighting might have charged blindly into the group, as he had done back when he defended his hometown from attack. The current him, though, knew better. This time, he had help.

  "How do you guys' fight?" he asked the warriors-in-training. "And where is your mentor guy? Charlie?"

  The young-but-much-bulkier-than-he men, answered with blunt honesty. "We don't know. We just have been taking them one at a time. We know how to block and how to counter. It's served as decently so far -- no one's died!"

  "Good! Keep doing that my fellows. I suggest splitting into several smaller groups. Have each other's backs. Push comes to shove, though, take the defensive approach. Block an automotron attack instead of trying to land more and more blows. They don't take a lot to destroy, as you've seen, right? Play defensive. Otherwise, you're going to lose an arm or leg if their weapon lands a blow!"

  "Very true--!" the lead said, though had no time to finish. The upcoming automotron group had reached them.

  "Time to fight!" he shouted and stepped forward to lead the defense. "Follow my lead! I will direct them to you!"

  Although he wanted to return to his teammates, he couldn't just abandon the trainees. Even during his first engagement, he had help. Jiehong. Dave Dix, and others from his hometown had been there helping him. Now, he would return the favor.

  The first automotron approached. It raised its arm, blade ready to tumble, and in the same second it fell, he rose his shield. His shield absorbed the blow which allowed him to thrust his blade through the automotron and thrust upward, nearly decapitating it in two.

  Although a cheer rose from his back from the trainees, he ignored the victorious cries. "Focus!" he shouted back while swinging his sword at the next golem. The golem fell before his blade with but a single stroke; all of the golems in this group were merely basic automotrons. Nothing more than enchanted wood and basic machinery. Not even metallic bits for defense. 'This is good,' he knew. 'If there were gold golems here or gods forbid those platinum tipped ones, we might be in trouble.'

  He continued to fight while showing the trainees the basics of fighting. How to swing their swords while facing down the enemy. Even how to use blunt weaponry -- he had picked up a few tricks from Jiehong, so he could say he knew more than one fighting style. By the time he had reduced three more golem groups to waste, his tiredness set back in; seeing another swarm approaching which consisted at least of four groups of six, at least, he had the bright idea to use his final grenade. Though he did chide himself for forgetting to restock on grenades when he had been at the command center.

  "See the big group ahead?" he asked the lead trainee.

  "Yeah!" he shouted back, he and his battle buddies effectively, but slowly, fighting their own against their own automotron groups.

  "I'll take that out and then you and the rest are on your own! I need to check on my Order mates!" he shouted and did not wait for the answer before he pulled the pin on the grenade and chucked it clear across the distance between, he and the enemies. It fell true and exploded shortly after. In the dust plume sent up by the explosion he made his move and shot across the battlefield.

  Despite the many enemies between he and his bunker-base and teammates, he refused to slow down or confront foes needlessly. He only used his sword when it was absolutely necessary, such as when a golem or three blocked his way and he partially cleaved them, turning them into barely functioning units which would make for easy prey by the trainees. He dodged, rolled, and lunged his body through the marauding automotrons. His whole body he considered as one large sweaty goop by the time he returned to the bunker.

  When he returned to the bunker he expected to find his friends on a ragged defense, barely holding on. He did find such a thing, sure, but he also found something he wholly did not expect.

  He found Mentality.