"How do we close that thing?" I ask Me, the question echoing my own rising panic.

  "I... Have no idea." Unfortunately, he's as stumped as I am, his usually sharp eyes wide with a matching bewilderment. Great. Just great. Luckily, I'm not entirely reliant on his... Lack of expertise. I have a Space Mage on hand.

  "Marie!" I yell, before immediately cringing at the volume. Right, right, dungeon link. I mentally reached out, the familiar tug connecting us. A moment later, she shimmers into existence before me, her brow furrowed.

  "What's up?"

  I gestured wildly at the pulsating, swirling vortex in the distance, the source of the unending demon horde. "What the hell is that thing and how do we stop it?"

  She stares at it, her expression shifting from confusion to a hesitant realization. "I think—and that's only because of the demons pouring out of it—but I think it's a portal to the demon world? Not that I've seen one before, but unless those monsters are hiding on Tironia somewhere, then it's got to be the demon world, right?" Her voice trailed off, laced with uncertainty. It wasn't exactly a confident answer, but it was miles ahead of Me's blank stare, and honestly, at this point, any theory was better than nothing.

  "Demonia huh?" Me groans and Marie looks confused. What? If we're going to die then I'm at least cracking some jokes to go with the skulls.

  .

  I clench my fists, the familiar tingle of gathering energy a desperate counterpoint to the growing panic. I won't miss this time. I can't. The sight of the moon, scarred and silent, claws at my resolve. That was rage, a blind, untamed storm. This time, it's focus. It has to be.

  Yeah, I know that's just a bunch of BS I'm telling myself, but I need that right now.

  I feel bad about my last attack, but I just wanna murder him so badly. Is that so wrong?

  The first wave spills through the portal, a grotesque tide of unfinished nightmares. The wolf-things, eyeless and earless, their spines a brutal crown of bone spikes, are a blur of savage motion. They're all teeth and raw, unthinking aggression, a pack of horrors unleashed. They surge forward, a terrifying vanguard.

  Behind them, the biped shapes emerge, a twisted mockery of humanity. Each one is a grotesque variation, a catalogue of deformities. Long, pointed ears twitch, sharp teeth gleam in the dim light, and clawed hands reach out, eager to rend. Spikes erupt from their shoulders, their heads, even their fingers, a mangled parody of ornamentation. The sight alone sends a shiver of revulsion down my spine, a cold counterpoint to the heat building within me.

  I feel a tremor of fear, a raw, primal terror that threatens to overwhelm me. Just moments ago, I was a whirlwind of fury, fueled by the image of the triplets, by the acts of King Aldus. He'd sacrificed his own troops, a calculated move to test our limits. He'd seen a lot, but he hadn't seen this.

  Now, the larger horrors lumber into view, a grotesque menagerie of the damned. They're a chaotic tapestry of limbs and flesh, each one a unique abomination. Some crawl on four legs, others on two, and a few, impossibly, on a multitude of skittering appendages. One, a pulsating mass of flesh, rolls forward, a living avalanche, consuming its brethren in its path. A troll-sized demon, its lipless, circular maw a gaping void, snatches a smaller goblin and devours it whole, a casual act of brutality.

  My heart pounds, a frantic drumbeat against the rising tide of dread. I need to focus. I need to channel this energy, this power, and unleash it before they overwhelm us. The guilt of the moon's scar is a heavy weight, but it's overshadowed by the burning desire to obliterate these creatures, to erase them from existence. Is it so wrong to want to destroy the things that bring such terror? I push the doubt aside. It's survival now. It's them or us.

  The King’s scream rips through the mist-choked forest. "Now you will die! Everyone will die!" It's a declaration, a promise, and a terrifying reality as a tide of demons spills from the yawning rift in space, a dark, pulsing wound in the fabric of reality.

  My family, my fierce protectors, surge from the shadows, a living, breathing wall against the encroaching darkness. This isn't the human army we easily dismantled. This is something else, something primal and brutal. The wolves, bats, and spiders, still slick with the remnants of the human assault, are scattered, their work unfinished.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Ringmaster and his legion of Golems stand as the first line of defense. The wolf demons, their eyes burning with hellish fire, crash against the Golems' ranks. The impact is brutal. Stone shatters and the air fills with the guttural snarls of the demonic horde. These demons are stronger, faster, more vicious than anything we’ve faced. Some Golems, steadfast guardians, are ripped apart in the initial onslaught.

  Barry, a gleaming beacon of mythril fury, stands beside the Ringmaster. His massive fists, each strike a thunderclap, pulverize demon skulls, sending them hurtling back through the chaotic fray. His mythril frame, polished and deadly, catches the moonlight, a stark contrast to the encroaching shadows.

  But the Golems aren't alone. Colin and his animated, yet strangely endearing, subjects are a whirlwind of teeth and hidden depths. It’s been ages since a Mimic army has marched on Tironia, a sight that sends a shiver of both fear and pride down my spine. Colin, a living, breathing nightmare for any demon foolish enough to get close, swallows them whole, his trunk a bottomless abyss from which none return.

  His children, the eight hundred Mimic chests, each a miniature engine of chaos, mimic their father's actions. They snap, bite, and devour, their wooden exteriors stained crimson with demonic blood. Me has finally accepted them as family, his initial panic replaced by a grudging respect and a meticulous cleaning routine.

  My Assassins, the shadows themselves made flesh, move with deadly grace. They cannot, and I would not allow them, to teleport through the portal into the demon realm. Their skills, honed in darkness and deception, are still devastating here, as thousands of demons pour into my forest and I don't want to lose any in non-acquired land.

  I stand at the heart of the chaos, condensing power, a storm brewing within me. Noir, Carrie, Dropper, Dum, Dee, Me, and Marie form a protective circle around me, their eyes scanning the battlefield, their bodies tense and ready. Everyone else, my family, my army, my protectors, are locked in a desperate struggle around the portal.

  Even Jack the Swindler and his motley crew of rogues and con artists are fighting, their skills surprisingly effective against the demonic tide. Ang, Zen, Carn, and the dungeon priests, despite their non-combatant roles, chant with fervent intensity, their voices weaving a tapestry of protective magic. Peaches and the Sweets, those adorable yet deadly warriors, fight alongside Talia, Lucinda, and Ali, their combined force a whirlwind of blades and slimy destruction. Mystique and Coral leading the Magi position themselves at the rear, unleashing a barrage of spells into the portal, ensuring every strike finds a demonic target.

  Hana and Mira, their leadership unwavering, command the dungeon-summoned guards, forming a living wall around the city further back, a bulwark against the tide. They protect the citizens, ensuring the DP Factory, our lifeblood, remains secure.

  The City Council, those who usually handle paperwork and bureaucratic nightmares, are a testament to the Coliseum's training. Every scout, gatherer, and Syndicate member has been recalled, their skills honed, their loyalty absolute. The forest, once a place of peace, has become an Assassin's playground, a realm of darkness where they reign supreme.

  Light is gone. Vanished. I can’t feel him through the dungeon connection. It’s a chilling absence, a void in the chaos.

  King Aldus and his guards, driven by desperation or madness, join the fray, their swords flashing in the dim light. Only Danil, the King's Space Mage, remains at the portal, his face etched with worry, tasked with maintaining the gateway. Eyepatch A and B, the silent demons, leap into the heart of the battle, followed closely by Aldus, his eyes locked on me, his gaze burning with hatred.

  My Assassins, masters of stealth and subterfuge, utilize the forest to their advantage, slipping between trees, striking from the shadows, their blades finding their marks with deadly precision. But the demons are resilient, their hides thick, their bodies infused with dark energy. They absorb blows that would fell lesser creatures, humans, their eyes burning with a relentless fury.

  One hulking demon, a monstrous brute of muscle and bone, pushes its way through the throng, its eyes fixed on the portal. It’s a mass of writhing flesh, crushing its own kind in its eagerness to reach us. My family parts, creating a clear line of sight. I unleash my power, the energy within me coalescing into a beam of pure destruction. It's not a skill, not a spell, just raw, unadulterated power, a condensed arrow of annihilation.

  The beam strikes the demon, slicing through its flesh like a hot knife through butter. Everything within its path, save for the outer rim of flesh, is erased from existence, the beam continuing its path of destruction, annihilating everything behind it. I don't have time to savor the moment. The gap is instantly filled, more demons surging through, their eagerness undeterred by the carnage.

  I need a name for that move. It’s becoming a signature.

  The demonic tide continues to surge, forcing my family back, pushing them towards the city. The lowest-level Assassins fall, their cries lost in the cacophony of battle. Golems are shattered, their stone bodies crumbling under the relentless assault. These demons are formidable, the first truly challenging opponents we’ve faced, and the realization sends a jolt of fear and anger through me. I’ve become complacent, used to easy victories, forgetting the true cost of war.

  Violet, Amber, and Blondie flash through my mind, a stark reminder of the losses suffered. I can’t stand idly by. I surge forward, my strongest Assassins at my side, ready to join the fray. The time for observation is over. It’s time to fight.