To Andross’s shock, it was the Knights of Keltharis who took off at an odd gait after the fleeing furry people and the abominations. They suddenly jumped high up and over the enemies, bouncing along the cliff face as they chased and kept pace with them. Spells of blood and ice cascaded at the fleeing target, slowing it.

  And in the center, Lothar, Elyra, and Myron were a storm of carnage, chasing after their own quarry. Limbs and bodies were flung from each of their weapon swings, hardly slowing from the feral monsterfolk and beasts attempting to cover the abomination’s retreat.

  Andross pointed right. “Let’s do our best to follow Lothar. Watch my flank?”

  “You got it, Battle Brother. Wolfen brethren! Follow our lead!”

  The wolfen howled their response, two groups of them peeling off from their fights. The truth was that the enemies were thinning and much less of a threat now. The Noblefrost forces had lost some of their allies, but they nearly outnumbered the enemy at this point. Less than fifty warriors had fallen, but hundreds of the feral monsterfolk and beasts had already been slain, corpses littering the field.

  Andross’s blood now ran hot, and he roared a challenge to the surrounding enemies. Andross let his blood rage build once more, leaning on his Soldier’s Mind to keep his focus. His glaive swung and slashed in powerful, wide arcs, sending waves of Body Essence cleaving off limbs and culling lives.

  Zarog moved faster as his own blood rage built, his shield smashing into enemies before his polearm stabbed out fiercely, preventing Andross from being surrounded as they pierced through the enemy formation.

  Several orcs also followed his battle cry, unleashing their own as they cut into the enemy, following Andross and Zarog’s spearhead. The feral enemies surged toward them, drakans with cracked blades and orcs with battered armor, their faces filled with hunger.

  A few arrows still rained down upon their enemies as the remaining orc scouts unleashed a storm of essence-enhanced attacks, aiding them in their pursuit. They managed to break free of the enemy’s formation, speeding up to a run. They cut down a beast or monsterfolk sporadically, but they were starting to gain on the fleeing enemies.

  “Husband, what is happening? They took Sharon!” He heard a familiar voice, turned, and saw that his wife was following with her large nodachi already drawn. She was bloodied with a slash across her dress.

  Andross grunted as he swung his glaive and cut down another feral orc. “Orchid? What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you weren’t ready to fight by my side yet.”

  “That was before they took her! I…couldn’t stop them. Let me help you.”

  Andross realized he didn’t have time to argue. “Fine. But stay close to me. And if we get anywhere near that abomination, you back off, got it?”

  “I shall do my best to follow your wish.”

  In the distance, the knights eventually surrounded the abomination, bringing it to a stop as they weakened it and covered it in ice from all sides. But the higher-stratum monster was difficult to keep tangled forever. Its essence was denser, and it recovered rapidly, tentacles whipping out and crushing and tearing away the ice from its body.

  With Andross’s spearhead, nearly thirty warriors were ready to unleash powerful attacks on the monster. Anja and Hendrik had already run off to ensnare the next, he imagined, but most knights remained and continued their assault.

  Andross was happy to release some of his pent-up rage. The feral essence swelled, roiling with the beat of his angry heart. With a roar, his essence was bunched into his legs, and he twirled his polearm as he leaped high into the air at the beast.

  With everything he had, he unleashed his Blade of Rage, his skill infused with his Concept of Strength, into its back. The cutting energy mixed with the might of the orcs sheared through its protection, black blood spraying into the air as Zarog did the same, with a similar Strength Concept infused into it.

  The monster stumbled, clearly weakened as other warriors used their own Concepts to dig into and wound the abomination. As much as Andross wished to finish off the damned thing, he couldn’t wait. He continued his run, and Zarog was quick to follow him with Orchid.

  The weakened monster would get taken out, its essence largely expended for survival. Andross and Zarog might have been a cut above the rest, but the other orcs and the wolfen were no slouches. Looking over his shoulder, he could already see three limbs were wounded to the point where it had trouble standing, and the frost was spreading. It still fought back with its black tentacles, but it was being dismantled and would be dead in time.

  Ahead to his right, Lothar faced another abomination with Elyra and Myron, having difficulty because it was the largest among them. Still, they fought hard, and Lothar grinned at them. “Good, you two are here–that means I can go all out. Help the knights, and we’ll take care of this one!”

  Myron was using a spear covered in starlight, and he launched an attack that pierced into the monster’s side. He added, “My scouts say the enemy underground is moving! There’s a second, smaller force heading to meet with those retreating, so please hurry!”

  More than a little alarmed at their plot, Andross and Zarog kept running. The third abomination was ahead of them, protecting the little furry people’s escape with their unwilling cargo. There were two to three of them carrying each and every bound captive, enabling them to run at full speed.

  And unfortunately, they were getting away, despite Anja and Henrik chasing them. They were going to make it to the caves soon enough, where it would become a real challenge to follow. Inside, there were branching caves, and while Andross knew he could count on the star oni and wolfen to track them down, they didn’t likely have a lot of time before reinforcements for the enemy arrived–thirty minutes, tops.

  Andross, Zarog, and Orchid were…nearly alone in their chase, only Ironpaw and one of his mates keeping up. If the enemies turned around, that would likely be a quick battle, as they were severely outnumbered–there was nearly a hundred of the little ones, after all. But they pressed on, knowing they had to continue to do their best to slow them down so their allies could catch up and finish the job, at the very least.

  A shadow stretched across the field with incredible quickness, dimming the light like a giant pillar rising above them. Andross looked over his shoulder and couldn’t believe what he saw.

  It was like Frosthaven’s Ordeal of the Shadow Hunter had somehow grown into the sky so high until it blotted out the sun, an eclipsing shadow that covered much of the battlefield. The shadow continued past them until it reached the mouth of the cave.

  Then, shadows coalesced into a figure, revealing a small form. Tiny when compared to the abominations, but it was a figure Andross and Zarog were both happy to see. On the other hand, the little furry people panicked now that their exit had been cut off, slowing down and jabbering among themselves.

  It was Sable. And she was covered in even darker blue fur, closer to black than before–she must have reached the Third Stratum. “Would you look at that. Just in the nick of time. Put those guys and gals down, will ya?”

  Andross couldn’t believe it–some of the little furry people listened. They set their captives down, seemingly eager to obey. They seemed to bark and jabber in their own language, excited to meet Sable for some reason as they bounced up and down.

  Sable grinned. “Well, aren’t you a bunch of nice fellas’. Why are we even fighting ya?”

  The abomination roared from behind as it stopped, and one of its spectral claws lashed out at one of the furry people, snatching it from the ground. And then shoved it into its mouth and chewed, the poor creature crying out. More disturbing was that essence was released when this happened, the monster growing in power. It looked at the nearby monsterfolk menacingly.

  The group looked distressed from this, many of them clearly full of anxiety as they couldn’t choose what to do. Some ran away toward the cliff walls, and Andross realized that many of them just might be able to climb their way out if they kept running.

  Sable was a bit less amused now, shadows and frost coalescing around her as energy built. “Oh. Well, that explains that, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, little ones. I won’t let them get more of you. Let your captives go, and we’ll protect you from ‘em.”

  The little furry people didn’t seem to fully understand that, but they didn’t do much beyond run away from the abomination in all directions as Sable began her fight. Her spear flashed full of frost and shadows as she dashed around and dodged the monster’s claws, slicing into its flesh.

  And it was then that Henrik and Anja arrived, sending a widespread blast of bloodfrost shards into the monster’s back and attacking with their Sageblades. The monster turned and lashed out at them, swinging with its claws at the less mobile targets, but Henrik managed to block and redirect the attack, his Concept slowing the monster.

  The furry people moved away from the fighting and from the reach of the monster’s spectral limbs, spreading as Andross and Zarog arrived. Each slashed at the monster’s rear limbs with their polearms. It was like a giant wolf or wolverine with extra arms and claws at the front, and the roiling flesh that shifted after they struck made it feel like they were striking filled barrels.

  This one was a bit bigger than the one they had previously faced, and they had far fewer allies to handle it. Thankfully, Sable’s attacks were significant, as they came from a warrior in the Third Stratum, blades and spears of frostshadow stabbing into it. The problem was that this monster was much deeper into it, and even her attacks were not penetrating deeply, the frost being removed quickly by its dense, bottomless essence.

  Worse, another figure appeared at the mouth of the cave coming from behind–a fourth abomination. Covered in black scales and fur, this one looked more like a giant panther was the base creature. It had likely snuck past their scouts, using its superior stealth capabilities.

  Sable shouted, “Just keep them busy, and don’t let them eat the little people! We’ve got more help arrivin’ soon enough!”

  She didn’t have to tell Andross that. His wife was in one of those nets!

  Anja shouted, “We’ll take on the panther–you work on this one!”

  It was time for Andross to get serious in order to face the giant abomination. It was thankfully wounded thanks to everyone landing their attacks on it, but it was still a dangerous, durable monster. A horrible creature in the Third Stratum should have scared Andross and Zarog, but instead, their blood just started pumping hotter.

  Andross said to Zarog, “Are you ready, Battle Brother? I think it’s time. No backing down now.”

  Zarog replied, “Are you sure? We’ll need to be reborn by the Boss if we fail.”

  “Then we just need to win. I’m doing it–you’re not going to be left behind, are you?”

  “Fat chance. There’s no way I’m not enjoying that cake my wife made!”

  Andross was pleased to see that Orchid had backed off, perhaps just watching to ensure no other monsters interfered with their battle, and–wait, was that Mitsuki too? He didn’t have the time to worry about it.

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  Both of them took out the Path Cores they earned from their recent run through the Path of the Samurai Ordeal’s 20th Floor and roared their challenge out to Orion.

  “Orion, I invoke the Breakbody Rite. Witness the built temple of my flesh! I shatter it in glorious battle and forge it anew. Let me rise, or let me die.”

  And Orion answered. In addition to the essence from the Path Core shattering in their hands, essence rushed in from the surrounding area to become one with them. They were on a battlefield that had many deaths, so there was plenty of it just floating around for the taking–and plenty that was compatible with a warrior orc.

  To ascend to the Third Stratum meant to establish the self. And what was an orc’s identity, if not a being born and raised for battle? Of course, there were orcs that ascended using their dear old daddy’s ascension chamber. But a real orc ascended where they belonged: in a fight for their lives. The more danger, the more they were Tested, and could become more.

  For years they had built up the temples that were their bodies, tearing them down and building them up again through training and through battle. And now, that temple was about to be tested in a true Test or Trial of Orion, their Rite falling somewhere in the middle in difficulty and danger.

  A spiritual manifestation appeared around Zarog and Andross as essence gathered around them from the Pathcores, looking like larger versions of themselves. The spirits made of essence pressed down on them, pulsing and rippling with the beat of their hearts as their cores shattered, and began to form the pillars of self.

  This energy brought them to a greater height, but using any of it was a double-edged sword. Precious essence necessary for them to ascend could be used up, and cracks could form in the temple as their body was proven to not hold up to the challenge they faced. Any essence they used up meant that they had to earn it from victory to make up for the expenditure, or they would forever be stuck with a failed, partial core–if they lived.

  The abomination growled at them, its mouth salivating at the meal presented before it. Consuming the two orcs with the essence of the Third Stratum was absolutely something it would fight furiously for. This fight was no longer about survival for the monster or a hope to escape from the battlefield with the stolen captives. It could become more if only it killed these two orcs in front of it.

  The four-armed wolverine abomination launched itself toward Andross, but Zarog roared out his own challenge, dashing forward and slamming his shield into its paw with all his might. His boots dug furrows in the ground from the force, and Andross didn’t just sit still.

  With a shout of his own, he allowed his blood rage to take over, essence exploding through his body and infusing him with strength. The quality of the rage’s essence was equal to that of a Concept of its own, the enemy needing a Concept to defend as he swung his glaive down over his battle brother’s shoulder, hoping to wound the monster’s outstretched arm.

  The wolverine had a powerful tenacity that appeared to add to both its attack and defense. Its claws were sharper, and its fur was denser and difficult to damage.

  His battle brother couldn’t defend Andross from every attack. Tentacles lashed out and slashed into his flesh, cutting into him and sending searing pain as the barbed appendages ripped out his muscle and blood. But that didn’t stop his onslaught, his own essence roiling through his body as he went on the attack. Andross’s polearm spun and twirled as he hacked into the abomination, Zarog stabbing and shoving the monster from next to him.

  Letting himself fall deeper into his battle rage, he listened to his brother’s commands, his Soldier’s Mind latching onto Zarog’s shouts. The two were used to fighting with one another, and thankfully, Zarog was much like his father–he understood that the orc’s rage was best used as a tool. It wasn’t everything that an orc was.

  Words echoed in Andross’s mind from a time long since past.

  “Rage is not true strength. You should be careful, lest you erase what you are. An orc is more than their anger.” Lothar’s words filled his ears, bringing him to a memory of when he grew up. Fighting in the pits was how most warriors would earn their backing, only a few rising to the top this way to earn a slot in the Ordeals. But most died. Many, many died in combat.

  Young Andross had snorted in reply. “What do you know, old man? My rage is the only reason I still live. It’s my only strength.”

  “Old man? I’m just a few summers older than you. And if you don’t listen to me, you won’t even reach my age. You’ll die in those pits, or they’ll put you down for going feral.”

  Andross scoffed. “Like I have a choice? Besides, even the inheritor flows deep into his rage. If you think an orc is more, why don’t you prove it?”

  “Then I will. And when I do, you will come with me, with me as your Chief. Agreed?”

  Andross snorted again, disbelieving. If he was better than the inheritor, that would likely be the case anyway. “Yeah, sure, old man.”

  And so Lothar did. Andross hadn’t known at the time, but he was the half-brother of the inheritor himself. He won the duel with pure skill and control over his rage and mastery of his weapon. Lothar had only used it as a finisher, dismantling the raging orc like he was nothing more than a flailing child. He brought the axe to the inheritor’s neck calmly after cutting off his legs, winning the duel, and sparing him.

  To everyone’s shock, he didn’t wish to take over the inheritance–he wanted to head to the frontier on his pilgrimage to establish his own tribe of honorable raiding orcs. And Andross went with him, along with over a hundred others with their families.

  It was a chance for him to become more than his rage and to become more altogether, as Orion decreed. Or die trying, as Frontier Shards were full of dangers. And if Lothar couldn’t claim the Ordeal, then their trip would have been for nothing.

  And Lothar taught him. So often had Lothar drilled him with commands as they prepared for glorious battle that Andross had manifested the Blooded Trait during the Tribulation, as he followed his Chief’s commands even while enraged.

  It was paradoxical. By believing he was more than his rage, he trained to control it and use it to ascend to greater heights. Instead of letting the anger consume him, he followed his Chief’s commands–or his battle brother’s.

  “Down, Brother!” Zarog’s words took him out of his thoughts and back into the battle. He ducked and rolled under the monster’s claw and brought his glaive around to slash into the one holding up its bulk. It groaned from the attack, its essence expended as roiling flesh covered the gushing wound.

  Andross didn’t stop his onslaught, his heart thundering in his chest. The strength Concept merged with his rage and sent cutting essence with every slash of his glaive. Despite being deep in his rage, his mind was focused on his efficient attacks as a soldier. His slicing glaive targeted joints and weak spots, causing the monster to stumble from his attacks–and Zarog’s efforts, the two working as one.

  The two did receive some help. Ironpaw and his mates struck the creature from the other side as the monster was focused on them, desiring to eat the much more valuable, almost-Third Stratum warriors. But the abomination’s tail lashed out, striking and sending them flying.

  The wolverine’s essence built as its essence raged inside, much like his own. The monster’s face snarled as black essence roiled around its claws.

  Despite Zarog blocking the large monster’s swipe, black essence snaked around and slashed into his body as if the essence itself was alive. The snake-like essence pierced into his arms and legs, causing him to cry out, and his manifestation to form cracks. With a swing, Andross’s glaive slashed the snakes off, spinning and swinging his glaive into the creature’s throat.

  Blood and black essence gushed outward, but snakes formed on its flesh and lashed outward toward Andross, and while he sliced two of them, two others pierced into his shoulders, lifting him into the air. He tried to slash his glaive, building up his raging essence, but it brought its claws up to grab Andross. Zarog tried to interfere, but with a twist, the tail sent the orc flying away.

  And then a blade of starlight cleaved the two snakes holding Andross up into the air, dropping him to the ground. He was shocked about his new wife’s timely aid, but he didn't have much time to think or worry about it.

  The monster lurched forward and tried to bite into his grounded form, but with a roar, Andross used his Convergence Skill as essence rushed in from the surrounding area and brought his glaive’s blade up to meet it. With every swing his heart beat harder, his rage running hotter.

  The more swings he used in this state, the deeper he would fall into the rage, and the larger a toll it would take on his body. The chaotic essence destroyed his flesh but also brought about an even greater power. His temple began to crumble around him as he reached the fourth swing; his glaive countered the monster’s claws and cut deeply into the monster’s bone–slicing through its disgusting flesh.

  The monster tried to counter, but Zarog was back in its face, blocking with his indomitable shield, his polearm piercing into its body as well. Andross continued with another swing, and it was only as he struggled in this rage that something within him pulsed, and he saw a vision even as he continued his assault.

  It was of an orc who fought using his bloodrage, but as his blood boiled, so too was his flesh healed. With his greater control of his rage, he could heal far beyond most orcs. Andross could almost feel it, just how it was done.

  And there was more. By keeping the rage at a low simmer, it heightened his senses and allowed the warrior to combat negative effects, just like Andross’s Soldier’s Mind. He could only scratch the surface, but Andross immediately began trying to use the essence like the warrior in his vision.

  For many of the denizens of Orion, establishing the self meant that it was dangerous to make an epiphany or make a Concept their own during ascension. And especially not from a Pathcore–they would lose their sense of self, their Pathcore would crumble before it truly formed.

  However, an orc was battle, and battle was chaos. Andross’s body was nothing more than a vehicle for combat, and taking on this Regeneration Concept would make his temple unbreakable.

  Better yet, thanks to his new Lord and Chief–it would make him undying. His temple ceased crumbling as it rebuilt slowly, and his slashes cut deeper into the monster’s flesh, the essence striking harder with cutting essence exploding outward with every swing, shredding away its essence.

  The monster tumbled to the ground from the force of Andross’s might, and Ironpaw cut deeply with his cold-iron claws from the other side. This battle was the culmination of many warriors’ efforts, and Andross would be the one to finish it.

  He swung his glaive powerfully into the monster’s throat, and with enough force from his might and cutting essence, it removed its head from its body. His own body nearly shattered from the blow, as he had gone far beyond his personal limits, holding on with what remained of the essence from his ascension. His manifestation shrunk and shook but just barely held on as essence came to him and Zarog from their glorious battle victory.

  They were bathed in the essence as their Pathcores finished forming, each of them forming four stable pillars for their temples. As much as they wished to help with the other abomination, they had done their job, and it was up to the rest now.

  The other abomination was fighting hard, covered with frost as Anja’s veins showed all over her body, a deep blue as a similar frost drained from the monster itself. Henrik looked battered and beaten, and Sable attacked from afar with her arrows as she built up some attack.

  A loud screech echoed over the battlefield, and a rain of blue-black feathers sliced into the abomination from above, freezing over portions of its body. The monster shook and roared, looking up at the interloper–getting a deadly talon in the face and knocking the creature back onto four legs before the bird took back to the air.

  It was Ishkara, having reached the Third Stratum. The demon frost phoenix was much larger now and clearly stronger than ever, its attack wounding the abomination greatly. The feathers didn’t just pierce deeply–the demon frost spread through the monster, weakening it further.

  And another figure could be seen–a spirit of a troll, casting curses that latched onto the monster’s wounds. Shak’terra was here, weakening the monster further.

  Sable disappeared in a flicker of shadows before exploding upward beneath the monster’s chest. Her spear pierced deeply into its flesh before a giant black maw bit into the abomination’s chest, causing it to wail in agony as she bit out the monster’s Pathcore, removing it from the rest of its body.

  The monster’s light went out of its eyes, the creature dead. Anja and Henrik both appeared to almost collapse from the victory, but they began drawing blood from the monster, only to stop.

  Henrik gagged. “Yuck, still can’t even eat this.”

  Anja smacked his shoulder with her pommel. “You idiot, why would that change when it died? I could only barely eat some thanks to my…bloodline.”

  Henrik gave her a small smile. “Great job with that, by the way. I don’t think we’d have made it until that bird showed up if you didn’t.”

  Andross and Zarog were both barely catching their breaths as they finished their ascension. He leaned against his polearm for support, unable to even walk without its help. The little furry people huddled in worry, now that the abominations were dead.

  Myron, Elyra, and Lothar arrived, having won their battle. No doubt, helped by the large amount of warriors that finished the previous abomination and the rest of the monsterfolk. “Good job, my son and Andross! You ascended!”

  Zarog frowned and looked around him. “We got lucky. If these little guys had helped the abominations…”

  Lothar nodded, rubbing his chin as he looked at the many of them. “True enough. I do wonder how we should deal with these fellows. Perhaps we should call the Young Lord over. I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring them to Frosthaven, or that they should stay here, until they’ve been Pacted and searched magically. They could be eyes and ears for the enemy.”

  Elyra asked Myron, “What of the enemy’s reinforcements? Did they turn around, or?”

  Myron sighed. “It seems so. They somehow know they lost their allies and have headed back toward the mists.”

  Sable groaned. “Glad that’s over. That guy was a tough nut to crack, let me tell you. The Lord is already on his way over. We’ll see what we can learn from these little ones.” She turned to the little furry people. “Don’t worry, little ones. We won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt us. Just wait, and the Boss will come see you. You’ll like him.”

  Andross was exhausted, but as Sharon was freed, he could finally relax. The healing certainly helped, but reaching the Third Stratum successfully meant he just joined the elites of this Frontier Shard. He had become more, mastering the rage of the orcs.