The Forsaken Hero

"What the hell is going on here?"

Connor’s voice was raspy, as emotionless as his always expressionless face. He lowered his scythe and looked over his shoulder at the few living soldiers behind him. They stiffened under his gaze, their faces pale as the Undead Hero’s own, hands trembling on the grips of their weapons.

"Y-yessir?" one stammered. He wore a shining emblem that proved him a high-ranking officer, but he looked as nervous as a new recruit.

Connor’s black cloak swayed as he half-turned around, fixing the man with a lifeless gaze and enunciating every word. "What is going on here? Where are the gate’s native demons, and why in the world is there an apostle in the sky?"

The soldier swallowed hard. "I-I don’t know, hero. The message from the Fate Hero only said we had to invade this gate as soon as possible and kill any within."

Connor dropped his scythe, letting it dissolve into shadows, and rubbed his temples. "Damn it all," he muttered, "I get a single hour of warning, then I’m teleported across the world to clean up Victor’s mess. What was Verity even thinking? And how the hell did Victor even get hurt anyway?"

"Hero!" the officer called, his voice taking on an edge of panic. "The Apostle’s massing his forces. It looks like they plan to break through the traitors defending the gate core. Should we move to stop them?"

"I suppose," Connor said, resummoning his scythe. "But leave some of the treacherous humans alive. We need to figure out what the hell they’re even doing in this gate in the first place, and what, or who, they’re protecting in there."

A massive burst of fire dragged my attention from the hero and his forces, and I willed my viewpoint over to where Gayron stood amongst his demons. It was like moving my perspective in a vision, yet even easier, and with simple thought, I was in the army of the demons.