Another day. Another wave.
Kalem stood tall atop the armored cart, his eyes locked on the rising dust cloud ahead. The ground trembled faintly beneath him. A low growl carried on the wind—the collective sound of dozens of monsters hurtling toward the eastern flank.
The cart groaned beneath the weight of reinforcements and enhancements. Thick metal plates reinforced the sides, and Onyx, clad in new segmented armor, snorted, his hooves grinding into the dirt in anticipation. The bull's massive frame had only grown more muscular with time, and his helm—fitted with a ridged brow guard and cheek plates—gave him a fearsome silhouette against the pale morning sky.
Kalem gripped the front rail of the cart, crimson spear in one hand, fire sword sheathed at his back, and the whip secured across his hip. The newest addition—a shockwave axe—rested beside him, nestled in a groove in the cart's floor. Every weapon had been checked, charged, and fine-tuned. Each rune shone faintly, responding to his touch.
From his vantage, he spotted the first line of enemies.
Depth Howlers—hunched, limber creatures with cracked skulls and vibrating spines—bounded forward, their mouths splitting open horizontally with jagged, unnatural grins. Their howls came in layered screeches, sending flickers of distortion through the air.
Behind them, heavier footsteps. Mawborn—massive beasts with torsos like cavernous maws—followed, devouring whatever was in their path: rock, debris, even the bones of their own fallen kind.
"Standard formation," Kalem muttered, analyzing their placement. "Frontliners to disorient, heavies to clean up the mess."
He reached down and snapped the reins.
"Let's go, Onyx."
The bull charged.
The cart launched forward with a jolt, wheels thudding violently over the rocky terrain. The metal braces clanged in rhythm with each turn, and Kalem crouched slightly, using the motion to stabilize his balance. Wind whipped past him, carrying the stench of ash and abyssal rot.
A Depth Howler leapt.
Kalem reacted instantly—his spear flicked forward, lightning trailing along its length. The creature burst into charred fragments mid-air, landing as steaming limbs in the dirt.
More followed.
They tried surrounding the cart, but Kalem twisted his body and extended the whip. With a crack, it ignited in midair, forming a fiery arc that lashed across the flank. Three more Depth Howlers fell, their torsos split by the precision flame.
Behind him, he heard Onyx grunt.
Another creature had charged from the rear—a crawler of some kind, all sinew and eyes—but Onyx kicked back violently, launching it meters away with a loud, bone-snapping crunch.
Kalem didn't turn. He trusted Onyx.
A Mawborn approached—fast and low, maw gaping, trying to flank the cart.
Kalem's hand reached for the shockwave axe. He pulled it free with one clean motion. The weight was immense, but the enchantments balanced the force in a way that almost sang in his hands.
He didn't need a full swing.
He just let the head fall with controlled force into the cart's side rail, and the moment the weapon made contact—
Boom.
A shockwave burst outward in both directions. Backward, it blasted into the ground beneath the cart, sending Onyx and the vehicle into a controlled hop forward—leaping over debris and avoiding a flanking swipe.
Forward, the force slammed into the Mawborn just as it lunged. The creature's armor cracked. Its body compressed violently against the kinetic burst and split apart, reduced to a twisted pile of gore and shattered bone.
Kalem adjusted his stance again, sliding the axe back into its groove.
"Clean," he muttered.
The wave was still coming, but now Kalem was inside their formation.
The cart cut a path between enemy lines, monsters collapsing in waves of flame, lightning, and steel. Every weapon had a role—every motion a purpose. The fire sword burned through Howler packs like a reaper's scythe. The whip danced across groups trying to swarm. The resonance blade hummed softly as Kalem deflected a sonic blade launched by a crystal-armed aberration.
He wasn't just holding the flank anymore.
He was the flank.
Minutes passed like seconds, and the battlefield around him was scorched, filled with the smoke of burning bodies and charred stone.
When the final Depth Howler collapsed—its body split open by a spear crackling with electric fury—Kalem finally pulled on the reins.
Onyx slowed, his breathing heavy but steady.
Kalem stepped off the cart, landing softly in the ashes. Around him were at least thirty monstrous corpses—some twitching in their death throes, others already cold.
He took a deep breath, eyes scanning the wreckage.
Behind him, a squad of soldiers finally arrived, panting, weapons drawn, faces stunned.
"Where... where's the flank wave?" one of them asked.
Kalem nodded toward the field.
"Already handled."
They stared at the devastation in silence.
One of the younger ones, a dwarf with a short-handled axe, approached cautiously. "Was that… all you?"
Kalem wiped his blade on a scrap of monster hide and sheathed it.
"Me and Onyx."
The bull snorted proudly.
The soldier blinked, then laughed—nervous and awed all at once.
Kalem didn't wait for praise. He climbed back into the cart and flicked the reins lightly.
"Back to camp."
As the cart rolled away, the soldiers remained behind, staring at the burned path carved through the battlefield like a scar in the earth.
Back at the fortress, Kalem handed in the report. It was short and to the point:
"Flank wave neutralized. Approx. thirty enemy units. No injuries. Requesting resupply on lightning crystals and runes."
The officer reading it looked up.
"Alone again?"
Kalem nodded, already turning to leave.
"You know," the officer said, watching him go, "you're more Legion than Pseudo already."
Kalem paused at the doorway, then smirked faintly.
"Then I guess they better catch up."