“Storm!”

  A very well-endowed dark-skinned woman shouted a name towards the thunderstorm above.

  The phenomenon was heavy, with winds strong enough to blow her away. But that was not the most terrifying aspect of the storm. No, that honour went to the rapid and repeating lightning bolts that struck endlessly across the entire area.

  However, it seemed each one struck with purpose, for it did not hit her or her companions. Instead, it exclusively struck the dozens upon dozens of monsters rushing them.

  Each monster was a category five hobgoblin, the second lowest rung of monster. Alone, they were easy; in such numbers, they were a legitimate threat. Or that would be the case if it were not for her captain and lover.

  Samuel Storm was a monster among prodigies, getting into a very exclusive club of people called Category 0—one of the few beings that could go toe to toe with demons in single combat. A power that would be very necessary at the moment.

  Through her vision stone, she was just informed that the lesser daemon, The Malevolent Gaze, had just been recorded acting on the western fringe of the nation. They were the Defense Group and one of only six capable of handling daemons.

  So, they needed to wrap things up here and move on. Every Daemon was a nation-level disaster, and the longer it was within their borders, the higher the chance that some vilge or town would be wiped from the face of the world.

  “WHAT?”

  She knew Samuel was just asking her, but it felt like the gods' judgment as the sound reverberated with the boom of thunder.

  Taking a deep breath, she shouted, amplifying her voice with magic.

  “WE HAVE A SITUATION, A DAEMON IS IN OUR BORDERS!”

  “SHIT! WHERE?” asked the thundering storm.

  “WESTERN BORDER!”

  As soon as she was done uttering, a massive bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and the storm ravaging the pins disappeared as though it was never there in the first pce.

  Her eyes tracked the few stragglers still trancing about and called out.

  “Ari, Deb, I guess we gotta earn our keep on this one.”

  With that, she rushed out, a rapier made of pure crystal materialising in her hand.

  Elsewhere, Samuel reached the threat with the speed of literal lightning, smming into the monster as pure electrical magic.

  A deafening boom echoed for miles from his impact.

  The Daemon uttered a surprised cry from the sudden attack but was otherwise unharmed. These horrors were very hardy things.

  Currents arced across the Daemon’s form as he channelled himself, and this time, he got a better reaction in the form of painful thrashing about.

  The Malevolent Gaze was one he could easily handle among the registered Daemons. Its powers and abilities required a physical form or sight, both of which were rendered moot when dealing with living lightning.

  However, killing it would be a bad idea. Being one of the lower-risk Daemons, it needed to be herded away. If The Dungeon absorbed another Daemon, there would be genuine risks of an Overrun.

  So he started the arduous process of herding it, which consisted of bolting it when it moved in a direction he did not like, otherwise causing little pain. After a stupidly tedious ten minutes, the Daemon was sent far into the Uncimed Lands; this experience would make it think twice before returning to a nation’s territory.

  Having dealt with the problem, he turned to see what damage it caused, if any.

  He noticed the miles-long massive crater and the bits and pieces of structure tossed about at the edges.

  “Damn. Not fast enough.”

  Like a bolt, he struck the ground, and when the fsh disappeared, a very handsome and well-dressed young man was standing at the dead centre of the lightning strike.

  He pulled a glowing gem from his overcoat and muttered a few words in an arcane tongue. The object beeped once and twice, and then he could hear a static voice from the other end.

  “Captain Storm, how may I help you sir?”

  This part was always sombre. The fringe settlements of the nation were always in the most danger, but they were by far the most important strongholds, keeping the monsters at bay.

  The loss of one meant a new one needed to be built, and it would be, even if it came at some disastrous cost.

  “I need to check which Fringe Stronghold has fallen, Western Region.”

  The reply was immediate.

  “Understood.”

  Then, there was a long pause as the person on the other end checked through the signal records. During this time, Samuel took more stock of his devastated surroundings. Though not often, there could be survivors.

  There was a burst of static and an answer he did not expect.

  “No Stronghold has fallen, sir.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Storm was incredibly confused, but the person on the other end understood this and continued.

  “None of the signals have been lost and there were no distress calls sent to us.”

  A myriad of ideas and possibilities went through his head.

  Was it a bandit camp? No, it could not be; this was too close to the edge. Some private off-the-books settlement? No, again, the only reason the royal line allowed those was because they tended to be more well-equipped than even the strongholds. If he had been less experienced, he probably would have needed to investigate, but as someone who had seen active combat for more than a decade, he knew very little about the frontier edges.

  The most likely answer was one of the old Strongholds that had never been renovated with the signal tech. This entire thing smelled of noble conspiracy, as Stronghold failure usually was. But The Null Dragon could deal with that mess.

  His job was to sift through the wreckage for survivors, and with one quick scan of the newest scanner rod, he found two human life signals.

  The revetion made him both thankful and sorry. He just hoped whoever he found could cope with their loss.