The group convened on the battlements, lit by the flames rising from the nearby braziers. Boris, a looming man in a long leather coat and plated trousers, stood watching the horizon through a spyglass. The crackling flames illuminated his wild black beard.

  “Bad tidings,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. “Look there. Beasties coming right for us.”

  He handed it to Stark, who proceeded to stare where Boris had been watching. “A lesser avatar. Joined by a small army of the dead.”

  A chill ran down Riley’s body. He and Kim raced for the edge of the wall and peered into the darkness. Sure enough, on the distant hill, he could see the hulking rocky outline of the lesser avatar. Shadowy figures trailed after him. Barrowmen and corrupted miners, by Riley’s reckoning.

  “Un-be-lievable,” Kim growled through clenched teeth. “That fucking thing seriously chased us all the way to Hangman’s Gaol?”

  “I... guess a big golem of dirt and chaos doesn’t need to stop to sleep,” Riley said.

  “Seems like. That or it’s a completely different lesser avatar, an’ this is the mother of all coincidences,” Beth said. She turned and spat onto the battlelemts. “What’s the call, boss?”

  “Don’t call me that,” Stark said flatly. “Can’t let that thing draw all the way to the wall. Any damage to the gaol would take far too much time to fix, and the whole place could be compromised. Gotta stop it before it gets to that point.”

  Riley stared in disbelief. While he couldn’t count all the figures coming their way, but there must have been over two dozen underlings, at least. He thought back to his battle with three barrowmen, where even that tiny number had nearly been too much for him.

  “You... seriously want to fight that whole group?”

  “I don’t plan on abandoning some prime real estate.” Stark donned his helmet, the faceplate sculpted into the visage of a scowling man, topped with spikes vaguely shaped like a crown. “Kenji, while you accompany me?”

  “Of course.” Kenji drew his own helmet from his inventory, a sleek silver kettle hat. The rim looked razor sharp.

  Riley felt his jaw hang low. “Just the two of you?” he asked incredulously.

  “Watch and learn, new blood,” Boris replied. A grin broke out across his face, revealing two golden teeth. “Been a while since I saw old Stark in action.”

  “Yeeep,” Layla said, drawing her own spyglass from her belt. “This oughta be good.”

  Carver strode to the edge of the wall, his staff falling from his Inventory and into his hands. It looked far more imposing than Riley’s own. It was formed from a shaft of polished silver, with a pointed golden base, and topped by an owl that had been carved from gleaming Noxium metal, “I’ll make things easier for us to see.”

  He swept his staff forward, suddenly unleashing a flare of white light that streaked across the night sky like a firework. It exploded some distance above the approaching horde, creating a vibrant white glow that lit up the field. The lesser avatar and his underlings ground to a halt, staring up at the ball of magic as it blazed like a miniature star.

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  “My thanks, Carver,” Stark said, his voice muffled by his helmet. He reached into his Inventory and summoned his blade: A jet black broadsword, twice the length of Carver’s forearm. The edge smoked and shimmered in the cold night air. “Keep back and watch, everyone. Beth, make an earthen barricade if anything should happen.”

  “You got it,” she said, snorting and spitting again.

  Kenji settled a hand on Stark’s shoulder, both of them becoming wreathed in crackling white lightning. They vanished in a flash, a bolt of energy cleaving across the gulf and landing in the field roughly halfway between Hangman’s Gaol and the approaching beasts.

  Riley watched, gripping the battlements for support. Kenji continued to crackle with electricity, lighting up the area. Stark held his blade aloft, whereupon fire blossomed across his sword. And, when Riley looked closer, he could see clouds of steam starting to waft from his armour.

  “What... what class did Stark get?”

  Kim smirked at him. “He’s a Furnace Knight.”

  Stark aimed his blade as a group of miners came his way. A great jet of steam wafted from his sword, boiling hot and seeming to slough the flesh from the incoming miners. They shrieked, dropping their weapons, as skin and Rot alike slid from their bones. A single stroke brought down three of them.

  Kenji lunged forward in another flash and struck a hillock upon which stood a group of barrowmen. He landed with a thunderclap, uprooting a great swathe of dirt and sending sprays of severed shadowy limbs into the air.

  He weaved through every attack that came his way after, and Riley could only barely see Keni’s counter attacks. But one by one, any attacker who came near him was brought down by a single swift punch or kick, each blow punctuated by a flourish of electricity.

  By now, Stark was cloaked in an aura of rippling steam. The heat was so intense that he had carved a burning path through the grass, like a long black column. The lesser avatar knuckled toward him, each movement kicking up debris from the ground, and then swung a mighty blow at Stark. To Riley’s shock, the older man didn’t even try to dodge. He simply braced his burning sword with both hands to block.

  The impact sent a tremor through the ground, and Stark was sent skidding backward, his heels uprooting great chunks of dirt. Yet Stark stood proud, seemingly unbothered. Smoke and steam wafted from him, dancing to some unheard tune.

  He rushed forward and let his blazing hot blade cleave through the air in an arc. The red hot edge struck the lesser avatar’s downed arm... and sliced clean through it, releasing sprays of molten stone.

  The creature let out a low moan and stumbled back, molten rock dripping from the severed chunk. Stark moved forward again, his blade lighting up the darkness. This time he stuck the cords of blackness that held the avatar’s left leg together. Rot and stone alike severed under his blade, and the groaning mass toppled over with a thud.

  “Holy shit,” Riley whispered. Kim had feared that thing, the first thing to make her worry in any way. And Stark brought it low with ease.

  “This is what a higher-tier Warden is capable of,” Layla told him, a carefree smile on her face. “Guys like that? Takes something way bigger to challenge them.”

  “True enough,” said Boris. “Stupid fucking rotspawn should have thought twice about coming here.”

  Kenji lit up the blackness with a sweeping kick, unleashing a tide of lightning from his heel. He struck several barrowmen with it, flash-frying them to death. He bounced from foot to foot, subtly daring the remaining undead to make a move. Those who stood nearest seemed stricken with a newfound uncertainty.

  Stark, meanwhile, landed atop the struggling avatar. He raised his sword high, steam spraying from the seams in the back of his armour. The flame surrounded his sword blossomed, rapidly growing hotter until the whole thing glowed white hot. He brought it down with a thunderous crash, striking the oily ‘head’ of the avatar, kicking up an explosive spray of molten stone as he sheared clean through it.

  The remaining rot hissed and smoked away, and the rocks tumbled apart, returned to lifeless debris. Riley found himself mystified, staring at the display.

  The few lingering undead were dispatched nearly as easily, and Stark and Kenji were soon walking back to the gaol as casually as could be.

  “Not bad,” Carver said, snapping his fingers and removing the flare he had created. “Guess the old man hasn’t gotten rusty yet.”

  “Shoot.” Beth turned and spat. “I was hoping for a longer show.”

  Kim gave Riley a small smirk. “Made the right call coming here, didn’t I? That Stark... he’s something special.”

  Inwardly, Riley felt a spark of hope swelling in his chest. If Wardens could get so strong, maybe his time here wasn’t going to be totally hopeless. "Yeah," he eventually said, laughing as tears pricked the edges of his vision. "Made the right call."