The Forsaken Hero

Fable stumbled back as the inquisitors unleashed their attacks. But as their faces lifted and eyes filled with triumph, he spun, using the momentum of their own techniques to bring his tail around in a vicious arc. His fur hardened into spikes, smashing through buildings and leaving deep furrows in the cobblestone streets. The appendage swept into the flanking party with the force of a falling mountain, breaking through their guard and sending them flying in all directions. One screamed as his wards shattered, blood arcing after him as he crashed into what the remains of what looked like a bank. A priest rushed over to him and gasped, the blood draining from their face. They threw themself into the ruins and dragged the man out, revealing the gaping hole in his chest where one of Fable’s spikes had punctured his breastplate.

"Keep its attention!" Rodrick shouted, helping another of his men up by the hand.

Dalen gritted his teeth and ordered his party to engage again. Fable hadn’t forgotten them, however, and their cries rose as his paw crashed down on them again. Without his wards, the inquisitor failed to position his shield in time and was sent spinning into a building. He emerged a second later, coughing blood, and was picked up by a priest. Green Life Magic clashed over him as another managed to pierce the cloud of discordant mana caused by his failing wards and raise another shield.

The battle raged on, a whirlwind of flashing steel, explosive spells, and desperate cries. Every swipe of Fable’s paws broke the inquisitors’ formations, scattering men and women. Arrows from the rangers clattered against his fur, clustering around his mouth, nose, and eyes, but could do nothing but annoy him. Archers were a terrifying opponent for most monsters to face, but they relied heavily on imbuing their arrows with magic to cripple, slow, and disorient their opponents, something made impossible by the starry light radiating from his fur.

The seconds dragged by, each more tense than the last. Shouts, screams, and the thunderous clash of steel rang in my ears, every explosion causing me to shrink further away from the battle. Fable lashed out with several fifth and sixth-level techniques a second, but the inquisitors barely held on. It was only their cohesion and the strength granted them by the Crystal Enchantment that kept them alive, but even that was starting to slip. The priest’s mana pools were beginning to dwindle, and the front-line warriors no longer responded as sharply as they had before.

Oddly enough, Fable’s coat was crimson with his own blood, but he hadn’t slowed in the slightest. He attacked with the same speed and ferocity as when he began. My wards hadn’t flared up since he struck the High Inquisitor, which meant he’d avoided using any seventh-level attack. Was his mana getting low?

One glance at his soul showed it burning as brightly as ever. So why wasn’t he leveraging his level advantage against them? Was he afraid of too much collateral damage, or...

I looked at the sky, and my brow furrowed. The skyship had vanished from its post above the keep, but it hadn’t come for us. Instead, it was a small dot hovering over the mouth of the canyon some miles away. Streams of brilliant light poured from the cannons on its hull, kicking up plumes of smoke, fire, and magical residue within the mountains.