The Defenders poured out onto the wall. They looked exhausted and bloodied. Warriors covered in the gore of a hundred battles.

 

And as they left the front lines, their openings were filled by Malachar's forces. The enemy surged into the gaps like water through a broken dam.

 

"Marcus we need to hurry and finish this." Han said, his scarred face grim. "If this continues we will lose without Malachar and his elites even attacking."

 

Marcus nodded and pulled out several mind-freeing machines. He activated them one by one. The metal spheres hummed to life, their subtle energy spreading outward.

 

"I am sure you all know Malachar can capture your minds and make you fight for him." He raised his arm to show the group. "But with these machines he can no longer do that. Don't be afraid. Give all your best."

 

Han examined the metal ball in his palm. His scarred face showed neither doubt nor hope. Just grim determination that had been forged over decades of battle.

 

He turned to his students. "This is it then."

 

The Defenders gathered around him. Men and women who had trained their whole lives for a moment like this. Their bodies bore the marks of the battle. Cuts and burns and bruises. But their eyes burned with something fierce.

 

"This is what we trained for." Han's voice was low but carried to every ear. "And this is what we die for. We are not fighting for just Valdris. We are fighting for the whole world. Our free will."

 

He let out a roar that echoed across the walls. A primal sound that seemed to shake the very stones.

 

"NOW LET'S GO! PROTECT MARCUS NO MATTER WHAT!"

 

The Defenders roared back. A sound that made even the battle below seem quiet for a moment. A sound that spoke of courage in the face of impossible odds.

 

Palwin, with her last drops of stamina, forced open a portal behind the mountain debris. The other side showed Malachar's isolated position. His elites. His generals. The massive war elephant that served as his mobile command center.

 

Everyone on top of the wall started pouring through the shimmering gateway.

 

Tom ducked toward Palwin. He kissed her on the cheek. His eyes, usually so full of childlike wonder, were soft and serious for just a moment.

 

"I'll come back." He said.

 

Then he started pulling magic into his body. His muscles bulged. His skin rippled with power. And he entered the portal.

 

Marcus noticed Captain Harwick pushing his archers through the portal.

 

"Captain?"

 

"What?" Harwick looked at him with questioning eyes. "You didn't think after all that talk we would wait defending the wall?"

 

"They are far beyond your soldiers."

 

"So what?" He shrugged. "Ten of us take down one. This is where we die, Marcus."

 

Marcus smiled despite everything.

 

He was heading toward the portal when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

 

When he turned it was Aldric. He had woken from months of being used. Of being a puppet. His face was gaunt. Sweat dripped down his forehead. His eyes were black with exhaustion. It looked like life energy had been pulled from his very soul.

 

"I am coming too." He said.

 

"No Aldric. You are not well." Sara said, pulling him back.

 

"Aldric I am so sorry I left you behind at Malachar's headquarters. But now I can't take you with me."

 

"Marcus you don't know what they did to me." His voice cracked. "What they put me through. I spied against my people. I starved them for a whole month."

 

He was heartbroken. He was trying to look tough but Marcus could see through it. Could see the guilt eating him alive from the inside.

 

"It wasn't you brother."

 

"Yeah. It wasn't you back then." Sara hugged him tightly. "And you came back to us finally."

 

"Sara I am sorry but I have to go." Marcus said.

 

He walked to Numan and switched to English. "Make sure Aldric doesn't follow us. He is too weak."

 

Numan nodded and positioned himself between Aldric and the portal.

 

Marcus took one last look at Sara. At Aldric. At Numan.

 

Then he entered the portal.

 

The world shifted. Green light gave way to dust and chaos.

 

Marcus noticed immediately that Malachar's elites had been caught off guard. But they recovered fast. In seconds they took defensive positions around Malachar's elephant, forming a wall of enhanced flesh and magical power.

 

"Take down everyone!" Marcus shouted. "These are loyal to him! Not innocent mind-washed people!"

 

He readied his rifle as Han and Tom rushed forward in full tank mode, crashing into the elites with devastating force.

 

Marcus took a glance at the top of the elephant. Malachar was looking down at the scene. Their eyes met. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

 

He raised his rifle and sent several bullets toward Malachar. But the tyrant pulled his head back into his steel cage before any could find their mark.

 

The new weapon was leagues beyond his crude handmade rifle from before. But he had zero training with the Russian-made weapon. Pressley and Guns didn't have one at their shooting range.

 

Still, Marcus was taking down flying attackers. Mages who swooped down on currents of wind. Creatures that defied natural law. The Defenders had no counter against them other than Captain Harwick's archers.

 

"Captain!" Marcus called out. "The Defenders can't deal with flying elites! I need to press on to Malachar!"

 

"We got this! Go!" Captain Harwick returned to his archers. "Only aim for the flying ones!"

 

The battle became a blur. Marcus and the Defenders pushed forward, pincering Malachar's elites against the debris. Han led the charge, his iron-coated fists shattering armor and bone alike. Beside him the other Defenders fought with desperate fury, knowing this was their last chance.

 

Tom fought like a demon, his transmuted blade-hands carving through enemy soldiers. But Malachar's elite generals were something else entirely. Enhanced beyond normal limits. Twisted by dark magic. They were overwhelming the Defenders one by one.

 

A woman wreathed in ice raised her hands. Frost coiled around her fingers like living serpents. Her eyes glowed with cold blue light.

 

She sent out a blizzard through the Defender lines.

 

Marcus saw it coming too late.

 

A giant ice block hit him in the torso. He flew backward, the breath knocked from his lungs. Ice shards fell around him like arrows. One cut his left arm, slicing through his shirt and into muscle. Another entered through his abdomen, a finger-sized shard of frozen death.

 

He hit the ground hard.

 

Pain exploded through his body.

 

The world went white. Then black. Then pain again.

 

Marcus lay in the dirt, blood pooling beneath him, wondering if this was where he died.