Cain smiled.
And vanished.
The air screamed as he launched forward, tile fracturing beneath his feet. He didn’t lunge for the knight choking Lexi—that would’ve been obvious. Instead, he angled left, just off the formation’s center.
A bulwark of soldiers reacted first. A hammer swung wide—he ducked it, barely—then a booted foot lashed out. It connected with his side like a battering ram, sending him spinning. He let the motion carry him through the frontline, low and fast, his fingertips grazing the ground.
“Sanctification!” someone roared. A flash of holy light burst beneath him mid-slide. His nerves lit up—searing pain arced down his spine.
The priest responsible was already mid-chant, hands glowing with another spell.
Breakstep.
Cain kicked the ground and disappeared, reappearing inches away as he carried the momentum forward, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs, shattering them with a wet crunch. The cleric folded as he flew backward, but Cain latched onto the man’s collar and twirled, hurling him at the airborne archer perched above. They collided in a twist of limbs and steel, crashing hard against the far wall.
=You have defeated (1) Human=
A twin-blade adventurer intercepted him the moment after he released the priest. She moved like a dancer, every step elegant and graceful. One blade slashed low—he twisted away—but the second caught his flank. Sparks flew as it glanced off his indestructible cloak, but the impact still jarred his ribcage.
A mace from one of the mercenaries came crashing toward his back. He pivoted on instinct and threw his fist into the incoming weapon. The head of the mace crushed his wrist, but he managed to divert it, buying him a single breath.
But it really was only a single breath.
A fireball detonated near his feet—conjured by the crimson-robed mage now stalking in from the rear. Fortunately, he was basically immune to fire damage of this level, but the concussive force knocked him into the twin-blade’s waiting lunge.
She drove both swords into his stomach.
They failed to pierce his cloak—but his body reeled as if they had.
He grunted, grabbing one of the hilts with his good wrist. Her eyes widened. He yanked her forward, headbutting her hard enough to send her crumpling.
He staggered back, lungs heaving, blood pounding in his ears.
‘No notifications…’ he realized grimly.
Except for the priest at the start, none of his attacks had been lethal.
These weren’t slave handlers. They weren’t weak guards. They were experienced killers.
The way they fought was different.
Their strength was different.
Their endurance was different.
And most importantly, he didn’t have enough time to think about the mess he’d found himself in. He only had time to act and react.
Cain barely had time to pivot before the air screamed again.
The massive mercenary surged forward like a steel wall, lightning dancing along the haft of his warhammer. Cain raised his good arm, but the hammer came down like a falling star—crashing into his shoulder and slamming him into the floor with enough force to crater the tile.
Pain exploded across his back. His breath caught. His indestructible coat didn’t so much as tear, but the impact reverberated through his bones. Blunt trauma still hurt like hell.
Cain twisted, kicked off the floor, and launched into a brutal upward elbow strike. It connected with the man’s jaw—but the man barely flinched. A thick enchantment shimmered across his skin as he retaliated with a savage knee to Cain’s gut that sent him tumbling once more.
‘Shit…’
The man was enchanted in some way. Reinforcement? He didn’t know enough about the magic in this world to form an educated guess.
A ragged, broken cry rang out from the other side of the room.
The knight who had pinned Lexi was thrown. Blood streaked down Lexi’s temple, her legs buckling under her, but her chains flared with sudden, violent energy. She coiled them together like a whip, ripping the coils from the knight’s grasp and slamming them into him.
He hit the wall hard, not dead, but stunned.
Cain twisted to capitalize on the momentary distraction. His hand shot up and grabbed the haft of the mercenary’s hammer just as it began to fall. Electricity surged into his arm—blinding, biting, burning—but he held on long enough to plant a boot against the man’s thigh.
Breakstep.
He propelled himself into the ground with crushing force, driving all the air from his lungs.
The mercenary flew backward like a cannonball, crashing through the far wall.
The crash echoed, sending flakes of plaster tumbling from the ceiling.
Cain tried to push himself up, his knee buckling beneath him as his lungs fought to refill. He hadn’t even straightened when something flickered in the edge of his vision.
A blur.
Too fast.
Too close.
His body twisted on instinct, but pain bloomed across his arm and sides. The daggers slid off his cloak harmlessly—but where they passed, a burn flared just beneath the skin, like a thread of his strength had been unraveled.
Cain lashed out blindly.
But there was nothing there.
His eyes swept the shadows. Dust still hung in the air from the shattered floor, but something about the shadows was wrong.
Then he saw it.
A ripple—barely noticeable—near Lexi.
The thief emerged from the gloom like smoke given form—face hidden beneath a dark hood, a dagger twirling in hand while the other was drawn back and aimed like a thrown spear.
Cain snapped his fingers.
The Infinite Wardrobe slammed into the floor like the judgment of a vengeful god, the thief vanishing beneath the shockwave.
There wasn’t a notification, so Cain didn’t need to worry about whether the thief survived or not.
He pushed off the floor, half-limping, half-sprinting. A warning instinct pulsed through his gut.
He drove as an arrow whistled past and slammed into the stone, erupting in a burst of white-hot light. The heat was like a warm breeze against his back. From above, perched high on another conjured platform, the archer had recovered, a second arrow already drawn.
Cain rolled as, a heartbeat later, the ground where he’d been shattered, pelted by a volley of needle-thin shots.
He needed to stop the archer again, but…
The crimson-robed mage raised her hand.
A circle of runes bloomed beneath Cain’s feet.
The spell detonated like a pulse bomb, a dome of flame and wind slamming into him from all sides. The raw force lifted him off the ground and sent him flying. He hit the far wall with a crunch that rattled his spine.
As he crumpled toward the floor, a spinning war hammer met him midair.
His vision blackened for a half-second as the giant mercenary hammered another strike into his chest like a goddamn siege weapon. Cain crashed to the floor, bouncing twice before skidding to a stop near the center of the ruined chamber.
Everything hurt.
Bones ached.
One of his eyes refused to open.
And still they weren’t done.
Boots thundered as three fighters closed in at once—a coordinated triangle, each moving to limit his escape. One carried a longsword glowing with frost. Another had a wide tower shield and a short spear. The last held a curved blade coated in something that hissed as it dripped onto the floor.
Poison, probably.
Cain spat blood and grinned.
They were being smart and respectful.
He hated it.
The spear lunged.
Breakstep.
It wasn’t a very useful ability from a prone position, not with his current understanding, but it wasn’t useless.
A sudden surge of momentum that seemed to disregard the laws of physics.
Cain disappeared for a split second, reappearing several feet in the air as he spun, slamming his knee into the shield bearer’s flank. The man toppled sideways into the frost-blade wielder, both going down in a heap.
The poison-blade fighter was ready—striking low and fast. Cain caught the man’s wrist with one hand, twisted it hard enough to pop something, and elbowed him in the throat.
Then he pulled the man forward and headbutted him. His forehead glowed with red light as Execute activated.
=You have defeated (1) Human=
Suddenly, his mind was filled with clarity again. Heat surged into his lungs, and energy filled his limbs like a breath of fresh air.
He landed nimbly on his feet and twisted. The arrow struck the edge of his collar, detonating like a flashbang, flinging him back in a spray of dust and stone. He rolled, groaning, vision tunneling.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned.
He staggered upright.
The red-robed mage began casting again.
‘This is hopeless,’ he finally accepted.
The floor hissed with residual magic. Every part of him ached—his shoulder still spasming from the hammer blow, his lungs fighting for rhythm.
But he didn’t stop moving.
He couldn’t.
The mage’s chant reached its apex. Five sigils hung burning in the air behind her, arrayed like a crown of flame.
Cain tried to change directions.
She released the spell.
A pillar of fire erupted from the floor.
He ran through it, the heat like a sunlight kiss thanks to his Keeper of the First Flame title.
He threw himself toward the mage—
And stopped cold.
Because someone stepped between them.
The battlefield paused.
Commander Aldric.
Her sword was drawn. It didn’t glow or carry any signs of being enchanted.
Her stance made every hair on Cai’s neck stand up. She didn’t posture. She stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and Cain…
He backed away.
“Enough,” she said.
Her blade came in low, sweeping toward his knees. He tried to parry with his shin, utilizing the indestructible trait of his clothes.
She stepped around his leg like it wasn’t there.
Her pommel struck his temple.
Cain reeled, staggered, caught himself, and tried to punch her midsection.
She took it.
She slid back three paces, heels skidding, before planting her feet.
Her expression didn’t change.
“You have raw strength,” she said, voice even. “But raw strength isn’t enough.”
Cain tried to speak, but blood caught in his throat.
She lunged.
He barely dodged in time—the blade sheared through the air beside his cheek. He twisted, kicked her leg, tried to use the momentum to bring his elbow down on her spine—
She turned with him and met his strike with a headbutt.
The world tilted.
Cain hit the floor, coughing, chest burning.
“I’ve fought monsters stronger than you,” she said calmly, blade hovering at his throat.
Cain didn’t respond.
He couldn’t.
He was unequivocally, thoroughly beaten.
***
The world reeled sideways.
Lexi couldn’t feel her legs. She wasn’t sure if she was standing or kneeling or crawling—everything was spinning. Her chains were screaming, and her ears rang from the endless crashes of battle.
She didn’t understand what was happening.
Her head jerked up on instinct as a shadow loomed above her. The knight—no, another one. She telekinetically controlled her chains, snapping them forward with raw panic, slamming into the figure’s chest.
The armored shape staggered back.
She gasped, sucking in air like it might save her.
Then the world exploded.
A fireblast bloomed behind her. A concussive wave of heat and pressure lifted her off the ground and hurled her sideways into a broken pillar. Her shoulder hit first. Her vision blanked. Her lungs stopped. All she could do was tremble as the battle crashed on without her.
She blinked through the blur.
Where was Cain?
A flash of red streaked across her peripheral vision. Cain—he was still standing. Barely. Blood trailed from his temple. He staggered forward, steps uneven, and—
—and stopped.
Someone stood in front of him.
A woman. Tall. Hair like steel. Eyes like winter. A sword in her hand.
Lexi’s lips parted. “Don’t—”
But she couldn’t make a sound.
The woman moved.
Lexi didn’t understand the motion, only its aftermath—Cain falling again. Then rising. Then falling harder.
Her heart screamed, but her body wouldn’t move. Her limbs felt heavy, her chains useless, her voice lost somewhere behind the crack in her ribs.
He can’t lose
He doesn’t lose.
He has to win.
The thought repeated like a prayer as Cain tried to rise again.
But he didn’t.
Silence fell across the ruined chamber. The fighting slowed.
Lexi forced her eyes to open all the way.
“N-no,” she muttered. “Impossible.”
Her ears rang.
Everything hurt.
The room spun like she was on a ship caught in a storm.
Cain was still fighting. She was sure of it. She heard it. The clash of metal. The roar of fire. His voice—grunting, breathless, barely standing.
Too many. There were too many.
She forced herself to crawl. The tiles scraped her knees. Blood dripped from countless cuts and scratches. Her vision blurred, doubled, then focused again on the figures swarming around him.
Cain…
He didn’t get up.
Lexi’s breath hitched.
Something cracked.
Deep inside her chest, something fragile shattered.
She didn’t realize it, but she was harboring an illusion.
There was this thought hidden deep inside.
Hadn’t the world already taught her this lesson before? Why did she have the daringness, the arrogance to hope that she could ever be safe?
It was impossible.
Not here.
Not now.
Not ever.
Her scream tore from her throat like a dying animal. Her chains burned with heat, flaring as magic from an unknown source pulsed through them. She didn’t remember standing. Her legs moved before her mind caught up.
Everything was color and scent.
‘Red. Pain.
Blood.
Cain.
Cain.
Cain.’
Something in her howled.
Fur surged across her skin like a wave. Her fingers cracked, bent, split—nails becoming claws. Her spine snapped into place again. Muscles bulged. Bones warped.
And the world broke with her.
‘Move…Break…Hurt…Protect…Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
KILL.’
She lunged. The twin-blade girl turned too slow—Lexi hit her with both feet, sending her tumbling into the spearman. They clattered together like broken dolls.
Mage fire.
‘Slow.’
She slammed the chains down. Fire died beneath her. The mage staggered—screamed—tried to run.
Lexi pounced.
‘Fangs…Claws…’
“A werecat?” Aldric muttered, surprised. She looked away from Cain for a moment to examine the new threat.
“DON’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!”
‘Cain…’
He was crawling. Bloody. Broken.
A wardrobe appeared in front of him.
Aldric paused her advance as she warily observed the strange object that suddenly appeared.
Cain looked back once.
His eyes met Lexi’s feral gaze.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed.
And he shook his head.
“No…” Lexi tried to reply.
The door to the wardrobe opened.
Cain slid inside.
And the wardrobe disappeared.
“No…!”
Lexi reached out.
Too slow.
He was gone.
Gone. Gone gone gone gone gone. Gone gone. GONE!
She stood trembling, chains curling around her like a nest of serpents, blood dripping from her claws. Her breath came in ragged bursts.
And when the boots came—when the swords rose again—
She didn’t move.
There was no reason to.
Project Knightfall 