Clifford's proposal hung in the dusty air of the library-turned-war-room. Everyone around the table looked at him with confusion, their faces etched with skepticism and frayed nerves.
Seeing their expressions, Clifford leaned forward, elbows on the scarred wood. "We have a lot of dead weight in the mansion," he explained, his tone blunt, utilitarian. "People who don't want to use their abilities, who freeze up, who panic. If we divide everyone into units and put each unit in a different section of the mansion, we can each focus on our dead weights instead of lumping them all together and increasing the risk for everyone."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "Then what was all that speech you gave on the steps earlier? If you were going to divide the weak ones, why give the speech?"
Clifford didn't flinch. "To give everyone a sense of unity. To avoid people becoming desperate and jeopardizing others in a blind panic. No matter how you see it, this is our best way to survive."
Rory, who had been tracing a finger along a crack in the table, spoke without looking up. "The Shoggoths are too many. If we divide into units, we might hold them off for a while—a night or two, perhaps. And when everyone is at their lowest, exhausted and isolated, they'll kill us." His voice was calm, analytical, but the conclusion was grim.
Zara, sitting with her arms crossed, shifted in her chair. "Why don't we bring everyone together and barricade the entrances of the mansion? Defend the barricades as one large group."
Koby shook his head. "That would spread us too thin. This is a huge mansion with too many access points. One wrong move from anyone, one breach we don't see, and everyone is dead."
"I agree," Luna said softly from the corner, her gaze steady on Koby. Her support was quiet but firm.
Zara shot her a glance, then turned her sarcasm on them. "Any ideas then, Koby and Luna?"
"I don't do well with strategizing," Luna admitted, before nodding subtly toward Koby.
The room's attention pivoted. It was James who broke the stalemate. "I might have an idea."
All eyes turned to him. James wasn't one to speak often in these circles, but when he did, people listened. He had a grounded presence, a lack of theatricality that felt solid amidst the fear.
"We can't divide ourselves," he began, his voice even, "and we also can't spread ourselves too thin trying to cover every door and window. We should all gather at one defensible corner of the mansion, barricade it thoroughly, and make our stand there. That way, we know exactly where the Shoggoths are coming from and can concentrate all our attention on that point, instead of dividing it."
Luna let out a low chuckle. "That's a plan I can get behind."
"I agree," Rory said, a faint, approving smile touching his lips. "It's not that bad of a plan. True unity, focused force."
"Do you have a section in mind?" Kai asked.
"The upper floor," James replied without hesitation. "It has a large hall we could use as a base of operations. Fewer entry points, narrower hallways leading to it. Easier to funnel them."
Clifford frowned, but it was a thoughtful expression, not dismissive. "We still need to talk about defense," he said. "As a contingency for when—not if—the Shoggoths breach the outer barricades."
Luna shrugged. "If all the strongest people are in one room, it shouldn't be that hard to defend the hall."
"If all the strongest are in one room," Koby countered, backing Clifford's concern, "people are going to die from stray fire in such tight conditions. Not to mention the fact that there might be cases of desperate people trying to sabotage anything if they think it'll save themselves."
Ophelia, who had been watching the exchange with sharp, evaluative eyes, finally spoke. "And what solution do you offer?" Her tone was cool, challenging.
Koby met her gaze. "What makes you think I have one?"
"If someone is able to point out an issue," Ophelia reasoned, her logic razor-clean, "they should also be quite capable of finding a solution."
"I don't agree with that reasoning," Koby said flatly. "But I do have a solution." He paused, ensuring he had everyone's attention. The room grew still. "We take the strongest and use them as shields—not in the main room, but in the hallways leading to it."
Luna tapped her fingers lightly on the table. "I don't know if I should call that brave or stupid."
"It's neither," Koby explained, his voice gaining momentum. "The hallways are narrow. We can drop furniture in them to slow the Shoggoths down, make them easier to pick off. They're fast in open spaces, but they can't move well in congested areas. We turn the architecture into our weapon."
"I don't like that plan," Ophelia stated, her lips thinning.
Kai couldn't resist. "You scared of getting your hands dirty, princess?" he teased, a reckless grin on his face. "Don't worry, we won't pick you. You're dead weight."
Ophelia's eyes flashed, but her smile was venomously sweet. "Well, this princess has the most supporters. How many supporters do you have again? Oh, that's right—you're just a five-man team." She delivered the jab with a light, mocking giggle.
The tension in the room spiked, palpable and dangerous.
"Hold your horses, everyone," Rory interjected, his voice a calming wave that cut through the animosity. "Let's have a vote. Anyone who goes along with the shield plan, show your hands."
A moment of heavy silence passed. Then, hands began to rise.
Koby. Kai. James. Luna. Clifford.
Five hands.
Against them, Zara, Ophelia, and Rory.
"Well," Rory said, leaning back. "I guess that settles it."
Zara let out a short, humorless breath. "We should all prepare for a marvelous death."
With the strategy set, the grim work of preparation began. Leaders returned to their factions to deliver the plan. The factionless, those who had survived alone or in tiny, terrified clusters, drifted toward the largest groups out of sheer desperation. An air of grim resignation settled over the mansion, a collective inhale before the plunge.
Everyone migrated to the upper floor, to the large hall James had pointed out. It was a cavernous space with a vaulted ceiling, its far wall dominated by a stained-glass window now cracked and missing pieces. The floor was dusty, scattered with broken furniture and debris from whatever catastrophe had befallen this world before them. The boards were used to then cover the window.
An audience was called for volunteers to serve as shields—those who would hold the front lines in the narrow hallways. The call was met with a sea of averted eyes and shuffling feet. Fear was a physical presence, choking the air.
In the end, only thirty-nine stepped forward—men and women, some with determined stares, others with trembling hands, counting among them the faction leaders who had voted for the plan.
Rory surveyed the small force. "Well, it's better than nothing," he chirped, his tone unreadable.
"We will make do with what we have," James said, his voice steadying the nervous volunteers.
The thirty-nine were divided into three teams: the Advance Team, the Recon Team, and the Base Protectors. Each team had thirteen members, with faction leaders strategically split across them.
Koby, Luna, Zara, and James were placed in the Advance Team—the frontline, the first to meet the tide. Rory and Clifford were assigned to the Recon Team, tasked with monitoring flanking routes and providing tactical support. Kai and Ophelia were placed with the Base Protectors, the last line of defense for the main hall where the non-combatants and wounded would be sheltered.
Ophelia immediately questioned it. "Why isn't Rory on the Advance Team? He's clearly the strongest here."
"Exactly why he shouldn't be," Clifford answered, his arms crossed. "He'd be worn out on the front line. We need his power fresh for when things go wrong—and they will."
"I don't get it," Ophelia pressed, her frustration evident.
Clifford's mouth twitched. "It's a strategy I like to call the Three Gateways. I used it a lot when playing online games."
"Games?" Ophelia's eyebrow shot up in astonishment. "You're basing our entire survival on a gaming strategy?"
Koby, standing nearby, folded his arms. "You have any better ideas?"
"I don't," she admitted sharply. "Doesn't mean we have to bet our lives on a gaming strategy."
"That gaming strategy is all we've got," Clifford shot back. "It helps us secure the halls better—putting a strong force in front, a stronger force in the middle as a reaction unit, and, no offense"—he glanced pointedly at Ophelia and Kai—"the weaker force at the end to guard the core."
Kai's smirk vanished, his body coiling like a spring. He was ready to lunge, but Koby's hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him back.
"We're doing this to survive, Kai," James said quietly, his gaze firm. "We wouldn't want to be the reason the group comes apart."
"He's just baiting you," Koby muttered to Kai, then lightened his tone with a strained joke. "Wouldn't mind if you switched positions with me, though."
"It's not funny," Kai grumbled, hitting Koby lightly on the shoulder.
"It's a little bit funny," Rory said as he approached the group, his hands in his pockets. "What do you want, Rory?" Koby asked, his guard up.
"Just wanted to wish you luck on the front lines."
"Why are you so interested in Koby?" Kai asked bluntly.
Rory's smile was enigmatic. "Well, his group seems likely to survive. And I just want to be on friendly terms."
Then, the timer appeared in everyone's vision, glowing ominously.
00:01:00
Sixty seconds.
"Everyone, hurry! To your positions!" Clifford's voice rang out, sharp with urgency.
The mansion erupted into controlled chaos. Final barricades were shoved into place—overturned bookshelves, heavy armoires, piles of broken furniture—all wedged into the three key hallways leading to the great hall. The Advance Team took their places at the mouth of the central corridor, the narrowest of the three. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat, dust, and fear.
Kai grabbed Koby and James by the shoulders as they made to leave. "If things get rough at the front lines," he said, his voice low and serious, "make sure to consider yourselves first."
"Don't worry," Koby replied, forcing confidence into his tone. "We won't die just yet."
"Take care of the rest," James said, his eyes finding Raya and Rachael in the crowd of huddled non-combatants.
"Don't worry about us," Raya said, stepping forward. Her gaze lingered on James before shifting to Koby. He had turned slightly away, unable to meet her eyes, the memory of his coldness during the Britney incident still hanging between them.
She moved to him and took his palm. The contact shocked him; her hand was warm, firm.
"I don't hate you for what you did," she said softly, so only he could hear. "But we're still humans. So try to retain your kindness."
Koby's jaw tightened. He pulled his hand back gently. "I'll show kindness if it benefits me." The words came out colder than he intended. Without another look, he turned and left with James for the front line.
00:00:05… 4… 3… 2… 1.
A profound, breathless silence.
Then, from deep below, came the shrieking. It was a sound that bypassed the ears and vibrated directly in the bones—a chorus of hunger and malice.
"Here they come!" Luna screamed, her voice slicing through the dread.
The Advance Team braced. Weapons glowed with summoned energy—Koby's hatchets humming with blue light, Zara's hands wreathed in flickering flame, James's sword gleaming with a silvery sheen.
The Shoggoths poured into the hallway from the far end. The narrow space forced them to come in pairs, and the scattered furniture barriers tripped them up, breaking their momentum. They moved like a pulsating, multi-limbed wave of mottled flesh and snapping tentacles.
Zara acted first. "Fire Wall!" A surge of heat blasted from her palms, creating a roaring barrier of flame between the front line and the advancing horde. Then, with a grunt of effort, she pushed a concentrated burst of energy through the fire. It erupted forward, spreading over the leading Shoggoths like liquid napalm. Their shrieks escalated into pitches of agony as the flames clung and burned, disorienting the packed mass behind them.
"Now!" Koby yelled.
The melee fighters surged forward. Koby and Luna moved as a unit, hacking at tentacles and bladed limbs. James was a whirlwind of precision, his sword cutting clean lines through rubbery flesh. Behind them, fire-users—those with lesser control than Zara—focused their efforts on searing the wounds shut, preventing the rapid regeneration.
The clash was brutal, immediate, and deafening. The hallway became a charnel chute of splattering ichor, screams, and the crash of weapons against chitinous hide. The force of the Shoggoth press sent several frontline fighters flying, crashing into walls or the barricades. Screams cut short as tentacles found their marks.
Some broke. A few turned and fled down the hallway toward the base, their courage shattered.
The ones who remained held the line, pushed forward by sheer desperation.
"Hatchet Fury!" Koby channeled a burst of aura into his limbs. His speed and agility spiked. He became a blur of motion, spinning through the press of monsters, his hatchets sawing through tentacles and torsos with frantic, controlled fury. As he finished off one Shoggoth, a tentacle whipped toward his head from the blind side. Instinct saved him—he swayed left, the barbed tip grazing his temple. Using the wall as a springboard, he launched himself at the attacker, hacking at its limbs. Mid-air, he shifted his weight, dropping and rolling beneath the creature's bulk. From underneath, he drove a hatchet up into its soft underbelly before springing up and severing its head with a follow-up strike.
He didn't pause. Spotting a tentacle lancing toward Luna's back, he hurled a hatchet. It spun end over end, embedding itself in the appendage.
Luna, sensing the attack diverted, didn't even flinch. "I'm pretty sure I would've caught it," she smirked, yanking the hatchet free and flinging it back to him.
"Let's keep the jokes for later," Koby said, catching it mid-air as he moved to fight back-to-back with her.
"Earth Tremor!" Luna shouted, slamming her greatsword into the floor. A ripple of force traveled through the stone, shaking the advancing Shoggoths, disrupting their coordination.
Seeing the opening, Koby used her shoulder as a step, leaping high. "Hatchet Fury!" He came down like a storm of blades, cleaving through the disoriented ranks.
But the landing was uneven. His boot slipped on a slick of black ichor. He stumbled, off-balance, as a sharpened tentacle spear shot toward his chest.
A flash of silver light. James was there.
"Second Technique: Moon Sweeping." His body became a spinning arc of lethal grace, the sword cutting the tentacle in two mid-air. He landed, poised, and pointed his blade at the torso of the Shoggoth.
"First Technique: Thousand Strikes."
The air in front of him seemed to fracture as a flurry of energized strikes—too fast to count—erupted from his sword. They shredded the Shoggoth and the two behind it into pulpy ruin.
Panting, Koby regained his footing. "Thanks for the save."
James nodded, his breath steaming in the heated air. "We hold here."
Together with Luna, they reformed their line, weapons raised, facing the endless, shrieking dark still pouring down the hallway. The floor was slick with black blood, the air burnt and toxic. The stampede had only just begun.