Name: Zariel

  LVL: 62

  Gear Score: 600

  Class: Paladin

  Role: Tank

  Location: Zantori Citadel — The Gates

  ForNot was the first to arrive. The warrior wore her usual leather straps. Two axes by her side.

  She eyed Zariel from a distance as she approached.

  “I’ll tank,” she said curtly.

  Zariel’s expression soured.

  “I have always been the main tank—”

  “Not anymore,” ForNot said quickly, pouncing on his words before he could even finish. “Get used to it.”

  Zariel decided that it was not worth arguing with the stubborn warrior. If she was as reckless as she seemed, he would be the only tank before long.

  “Anyone care to sing?”

  Arctic, standing on the back of a whale swimming effortlessly through the air, was already preparing her harplin.

  “A little sing-along is a great way at bringing team’s together before—"

  “No,” both the warrior and paladin replied in unison, dashing any hopes the bard may have had.

  Arctic seemed shocked, but her expression swiftly returned to a cheerful smile.

  “I’ll just serenade you while we wait for the—”

  “Hmmph.”

  Fornot growled angrily, causing Arctic to take the hint and wait in silence. It only took a few moments of agonizing quiet for the bard to start humming. For a moment, it looked like ForNot would use those axes of hers. Ultimately, she chose to sneer at the songstress in an attempt to intimidate her.

  Arctic, however, had her eyes closed. Her long curls bobbed up and down as she sang unashamedly.

  “I’ll see you inside,” the warrior muttered to Zariel.

  It wasn’t long before more of them came.

  Eclipse came with S. The new arrivals were swiftly recruited as unwilling supporting vocalists for Arctic’s concert.

  Then came Evo, strutting casually with two pistols dangling from her waist and her rifle resting on her shoulder.

  The chanter Marcatan followed, joining the group as the sun rose above the horizon.

  “Where’s Leaih?” Evo asked. “I’m still missing my boots, and I’ve got a feeling today’s going to be my lucky day.”

  “Here!”

  The cleric came running, her silk white robes flowing as she ran.

  She would have had a regal appearance were it not for the large satchel smacking her side with every step.

  “Sorry!” she said, joining the group. “I was detained at the Auction House by some admirers of mine.”

  S poked Zariel’s chest plate.

  “You have admirers, paladin?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so…”

  The rogue draped his hood over his head and turned towards the gates.

  “Wait!”

  Leaih briskly walked over and reached into her pouch.

  “The best potions gold can buy,” she said proudly, extending a handful to Zariel and S.

  “Thank you,” Zariel said, taking his allotment.

  She offered some to S, but he did not take them. He gave her a subtle wink in return.

  “Got plenty,” he said with a low voice. “Rarely use them.”

  With that, the rogue entered the gates of the Citadel. Leaih seemed hurt, but she tried to put on a confident front for the rest of the assembled group.

  “Appreciate it, but isn’t this a bit overkill?” Evo asked. “We’re all level 62. Best of our class. Cream of the crop. Not to mention we got the best and most beautiful gunner in all of Atrea—”

  “A peacock that always struts with its feathers out is set to lose them.”

  All eyes turned to Marcatan. His gaze was fixed on the stone mausoleum that loomed over them. He was not simply looking at the structure. With squinted eyes and deep focus, he was absorbing every crevice and crack in its walls.

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  “What does that mean?” Evo asked. “You calling me bird-brained?”

  Leaih and Arctic both laughed. At least, until Evo’s glare stopped them.

  “Come on,” Zariel said. “Let’s us purge this evil once more.”

  “Remember, we search every corner—every chamber,” Eclipse warned.

  “Slay every demon,” Zariel added, his gauntlet tightening around his chain-wrapped sword.

  “I’ll keep you all alive the best I can,” Leaih said. “Marcatan. Arctic. I’ll let you know if I need your heals.”

  The chanter nodded. A flash of light darted across his eyes.

  “T-thanks,” the cleric said, feeling the chanter’s healing energies wash over her. “I’ll try not to bother you for more—"

  Evo fired a bullet into the air.

  “Enough chatting, let’s get this show on the road!”

  She ran inside, leaving everyone else in the dust.

  When they entered the Citadel, they found ForNot in the midst of a swarm of demons that had infested the citadel.

  Streams of burning green blood spewed out from the horde as she continued to cut her way through.

  Leaih’s wand fell by her side. “How is she…”

  “IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?” ForNot roared. “I COULD DO THIS IN MY SLEEP!”

  While everyone watched in amazement and horror, Zariel charged forward. He knew she could not keep this up forever.

  Zariel crashed into the wall of demons, trampling several and skewering one on his glowing sword. Without saying a word, the armored warrior of light cut through swathes of the horned creatures, slowly drawing the attention of more.

  The rest of the team sprang into action.

  Bullets and bolts of lightning cut down the legions encircling Zariel.

  A somber melody so tragically beautiful lulled the hellish creatures into a trance, only to be awakened by Marcatan’s staff obliterating them with overwhelming might.

  From the rear, Leaih’s wisps kept the group alive while she focused her efforts on ensuring ForNot’s survival.`

  When it was over, the chamber’s floor appeared to ooze demon blood. The demons that had escaped Zariel’s light were banished back to their realm.

  ForNot was covered in blood, human and demonic. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  She looked at Zariel and smiled. On her face, streaks of red crossed sizzling specks of green.

  A grotesque work of art. Even Zariel could not help but feel unsettled.

  “Like I said, I’ll tank,” ForNot said.

  The paladin looked away and down the main hall. The one that would eventually lead to Zantor.

  To his surprise, it was not filled with horned fiends unlike his first time in Zantori Citadel. Only a single, hulking behemoth patrolled the long corridor. A spawn of hell with four titanic arms, each wielding a sword larger than Zariel.

  A Demonguard.

  “Where’s the rogue?” he asked.

  ForNot wiped her axe blade on her leather cuff and made her disdain known.

  “Don’t need him.”

  “Oh?”

  It was the sound of cloth tearing—except it was wet.

  Four swords clattered onto the ground as the flames of hell engulfed the elite Demonguard.

  S stood over the vanishing traces of his victim, his daggers soaked.

  “Couldn’t do that the first time…” he remarked.

  The rogue looked at his blades approvingly before meeting the eyes of his raid team. “Way’s clear to the bosses.”

  Evo stepped forward, loading another cartridge of ammunition into her trusty weapon.

  “What are ya’ll waiting for? That horned bastard has my boots!”

  “No, let’s split up.”

  It was Eclipse who was now squarely in the sights of a bewildered and agitated gunner.

  He raised his hand, urging her to hear him out.

  “We’re clearly stronger now,” he said, eying the rogue who had slain an elite demon with a single blow. “Two bosses on the first floor. Two different paths, not to mention all the side corridors filled with run-of-the-mill demons. We’ll be more efficient if we split up.”

  ForNot audibly sighed with relief.

  “Anything so that this raid isn’t mind numbingly easy,” she said. “I’ll take Sinclair. Paladin, you go after Lillith.”

  Zariel bit his tongue. He was beginning to grow tired of her commands like he was her pawn, but he did not want to disrupt the team’s cohesion.

  What little of it there was.

  “Fine. But regroup if we find anything unusual—anything that looks like it leads to the boss we fought. A portal, rift, anything,” he told her.

  The group nodded in agreement.

  “I’ll take Leaih,” Zariel said. “Marcatan and Arctic can heal you enough. We’ll meet on the second floor if everything goes smoothly.”

  “Remember! Any boots you find are mine!” Evo reminded the team as the groups split.

  ForNot had taken Marcatan, Arctic, and Evo. She had insisted that she did not need S, and he was content to be far away from her.

  Zariel, Leaih, Eclipse, and S carved through the corridors with ease.

  It was not so much that they were a good team, but rather the difficulty of the raid had been trivialized by their gear, experience, and level.

  As he slew demon after demon, Zariel’s mind began to wander.

  He was no stranger to adversity. His guild consisted of little more than average fighters. It was not equipment or skill that had gotten them through raids, but their ability to work together. No matter how many times they fell in battle, they would rise with new ideas and tactics

  It was those memories he cherished—the strategizing and forging of ideas that in turn led them to victory.

  He wondered if this new group had that potential. Perhaps he would get his answer at the first boss.

  “See Anything?” Leiah asked.

  S emerged from stealth and shook his head. “More demons that way. A few dozen more that other way. No luck.”

  “Hmm, it may be that Zantor holds the key,” she said.

  Eclipse hummed in agreement. “He is the archdemon imprisoned here. If anyone is responsible for what transpires in the Citadel, it is him.”

  His orb began to levitate.

  “But do not underestimate her. Zantori Citadel would have never risen beside Revenshein had it not been for her and Sinclair.”

  Eclipse spoke of Lillith, the human sorcerer that stood before them. Demonic energies swirled around her. Her corruption manifested itself in the form of dark tendrils pulsing under her skin and the budding horns on her forehead.

  “Her?” Leaih said, her voice unsteady.

  “She and Sinclair were exiled from Revenshein long ago for their conspiracy. Somehow, they came upon the citadel—originally a prison built by our predecessors on the surface. They formed a covenant with the archdemon, and in time the citadel ascended—”

  “Eclipse, buddy.” S wrapped his arm around the warlock’s neck. “Spare us.”

  “B-but this is important lore. If we understand how these raids came—”

  The rogue’s arm curled tighter around Eclipse’s neck. Not enough to kill him, but enough to remind the warlock of the possibility.

  Instantly, the warlock threw his hands up in surrender.

  “Please try not to hurt each other…” Leaih pleaded. “Zariel, whenever you’re ready.”

  It had been a difficult fight his first time in the citadel. But that was before he was level 62 and had reached 600 gear score—before he was raiding with the best in Atrea.

  The rogue vanished in a cloud of smoke.

  Eclipse’s orb crackled with elemental energy.

  Zariel readied his sword and shield and took a step forward.

  The battle had begun.

  Lillith’s eyes locked on to him.

  “Zantor said you’d return. Your light is less bright, paladin.”

  He froze.

  The words seemed to scrape against his ears and worm their way into his armor.

  “What did you say?”

  The sorcerer stared, but her tendril-covered lips did not move.

  Zariel turned to Leaih and Eclipse.

  “What’s wrong?” Leaih asked. “Want me to renew your blessings before—”

  “Did you hear that? What Lilith…”

  Eclipse looked at him, perplexed.

  “Never mind…”

  He must have imagined it. They had yet to even clash.

  The paladin drew his sword and prepared to slay Lilith for the second time.