The green tide crashed against his fortifications like water against stone.

  Jonah watched from his command position as the goblin charge split apart on the metal barriers. The funnel points worked exactly as designed. Creatures that had been spread across a sixty-meter front compressed into lanes barely wide enough for three abreast. The momentum that should have overwhelmed his defenders dissipated into chaos as goblins trampled each other trying to force through.

  "Spears forward! Thrust on my mark!"

  The front line responded. Steel points punched out in unison, catching the compressed mass of green bodies. Goblins shrieked and fell, creating obstacles for those behind. The creatures climbed over their dead, only to meet the next thrust.

  "Now! Again! Again!"

  Rhythmic death befell the goblin masses. Each call brought another wave of spear thrusts, another layer of corpses building at the funnel mouths.

  But these goblins were smarter than the first wave. They didn't simply pile into the kill zones. After the initial charge faltered, they pulled back, regrouped, and began probing.

  Small groups tested different approaches. Five goblins rushed the eastern barrier, found it solid, retreated before the defenders could fully engage. Another group tried the gap between two funnel points and discovered the caltrops Jonah had scattered there. Their screams echoed across the battlefield as crude metal spikes punched through thin leather footwear.

  "They're learning," Martinez observed from his position on the line.

  "They were always going to learn. That's why we built redundant defenses." Jonah tracked the goblin movements, cataloging their probing attempts. "They'll find a weakness eventually. Our job is to make sure the price of exploiting it is too high."

  A flash of sickly green light from the goblin rear.

  "Shaman! Northwest, behind the main formation!"

  The spotter's call triggered an immediate response. Three mages on the bus shelter platform hurled mana bolts toward the source. Two went wide. The third forced the shaman to abandon its cast, diving behind a line of goblin shields.

  "Keep pressure on them! Don't let them cast freely!"

  The magical duel intensified. Shamans tried to get spells off, curse fog, acid bolts, something that looked like concentrated fear, and fireballs. Humanity's mages interrupted each attempt, killing some of the casters, but it was not enough to stop them completely.

  Miranda, the fire mage, proved her worth immediately. Her fire bolts were smaller than the other mages' attacks, but faster and more accurate. She hit the same shaman three times in thirty seconds, forcing it to stay behind cover instead of contributing to the battle.

  "Suppression working!" she called out. "Two shamans pinned, one retreating!"

  Jonah spotted the goblin commander, a larger hobgoblin directing forces from the rear, barked orders. The probing attacks intensified. Groups of ten and twenty tested different points simultaneously, spreading the defenders' attention.

  "Eastern funnel taking pressure!" Sarah's voice cut through the chaos. "They're trying to force through with numbers!"

  "Hold formation! Let the barriers do the work!"

  The metal walls Jonah had positioned held firm. Goblins threw themselves against the angled sheets, trying to push through or climb over. The angle deflected their charges and sent them stumbling into the kill lane where spears waited.

  But numbers were starting to have their effect. The eastern defenders were tiring, their thrust rhythm slowing. Gaps appeared in the formation as exhausted fighters stepped back without proper rotation.

  "Martinez! Take over command. I'm reinforcing east."

  Jonah dropped from his platform and sprinted toward the struggling section. His Enhanced Reflexes let him navigate the chaos without slowing, weaving between reserve fighters and medical runners.

  He arrived just as the eastern funnel threatened to collapse.

  Three hobgoblins had pushed to the front of the goblin assault, using their bulk to absorb spear thrusts while regular goblins climbed over them. One had already breached the funnel mouth, its iron sword carving into a defender who'd been too slow to retreat.

  Jonah's Mana Blade ignited.

  He hit the breach like an enraged titan. His sword took the first hobgoblin through the throat. The second turned, raised its weapon, but it was too slow. Jonah's blade sheared through its guard and continued into its skull.

  The third hobgoblin was smarter. It retreated a step, creating distance, sword coming up in a proper defensive stance.

  I need to develop my ranged arsenal soon enough. Combine it with this mana blade.

  Jonah didn't give it time to set.

  He pressed forward, bladework a blur of intermediate-rank technique enhanced by forty-nine years of combat memory. The hobgoblin parried once, twice, then missed the third strike that opened its belly and spilled its intestines into its waiting arms.

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  "Reform the line! Close that gap!"

  Defenders scrambled to comply. Shields locked back into position, spears found their rhythm again.

  The breach sealed.

  But Jonah's attention had already shifted.

  The eastern section's struggle had revealed something. Two figures holding a secondary lane, one that he'd expected to collapse under pressure. A narrow gap between barrier walls where the fortifications hadn't quite connected.

  Alexa stood at the gap's mouth, spear extended, face set in an expression of absolute focus.

  The teenager moved with fluid economy. Thrust, retract, reposition, parry, and slash. Each motion precise, each strike lethal. Goblins that tried to force through the gap died on that spear, one after another, their bodies piling into an obstacle that made the gap even narrower.

  But Alexa was pushing too far forward, her aggression bleeding into recklessness. The spear extended past safe distance, leaving the teenager exposed.

  A goblin got inside the reach. Its crude sword came up—

  Liam was already there. The young swordsman materialized from Alexa's blind side, daggers flashing. The goblin died before its attack could land. Liam grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back to safe distance.

  "Watch your extension!"

  "I had it!"

  "You almost had a sword in your ribs." Liam's voice was sharp but controlled. "Reset. I've got your flank."

  They fell back into the rhythm of battle. Alexa's spear controlled the gap, aggressive thrusts keeping goblins at bay. Liam covered the openings that aggression created, his Blade Sense letting him intercept threats Alexa couldn't see.

  Jonah watched for three exchanges, cataloging the dynamic.

  Perfect. The word crystallized in his mind with surprising clarity.

  They're perfect for each other.

  Alexa's aggression was a blade that cut both ways. The teenager wanted blood, wanted vengeance for their dead sibling, and that hunger made them dangerous. But it also made them reckless. Without someone to check that hunger, Alexa would wade too deep and chase kills until one finally killed her.

  Liam was the opposite problem. The kid had natural talent beyond anything Jonah had seen at this level, but he'd also heard Jonah's warning about thrill-chasing and taken it too much to heart. His fighting was controlled to the point of hesitation.

  Opportunities passed because he was being careful instead of committed.

  Together, they balanced.

  Alexa's aggression kept Liam engaged and forced him to commit to fights he might otherwise avoid, while Liam's control kept Alexa alive and pulled them back before hunger became suicide.

  A symbiotic partnership. The kind that produced legendary fighters.

  In another timeline, did they find each other? Or did they die separately, their potential wasted?

  No way to know. But in this timeline, Jonah would make sure they survived long enough to become what they could be.

  "Good work!" he called to them. "Maintain that rhythm!"

  He moved on, checking other sections. The northern funnel held strong under Martinez's direction. The shield wall at its mouth was a thing of brutal beauty: three defenders locked together, absorbing every goblin charge, while spears from the second line turned absorbed momentum into goblin corpses.

  David anchored the center.

  The Guardian's Defensive Positioning skill created a subtle aura that steadied everyone around him. Fighters who should have been panicking instead held formation, drawing confidence from his presence.

  John covered David's weak side, his own shield work less elegant but no less effective. The Defender had taken another wound. Jonah could see blood seeping through hastily applied bandages, but he wasn't slowing down.

  The western section, Derek's territory, was holding, but barely.

  The natural barriers Jonah had mentioned were doing most of the work. Goblins trying to approach through the corrupted buildings found themselves funneled into narrow passages where even mediocre defense could hold.

  Derek himself fought near the front. The man had genuine combat skill, whatever his other flaws. His axe work was brutal and efficient, each swing accounting for a goblin life.

  But the western section wasn't pressing. They were absorbing attacks instead of bleeding the enemy.

  Jonah filed that observation away as a problem for later.

  Another shaman bolt streaked toward the lines. This one got through the suppression, a curse fog that bloomed over a section of the eastern defenders.

  "Brace! Shaman!"

  The call came late. Three fighters were caught in the fog before they could raise shields. They dropped, clutching their heads, magical despair overwhelming their will to fight.

  "Medical runners! Get those people out!"

  Rebecca appeared with two assistants. They dragged the affected fighters toward the rear while others stepped up to fill the gaps.

  The goblin commander saw the opening. Horns blared, and a concentrated push hit the weakened eastern section.

  "Jackson! With me!"

  The lightning user materialized at Jonah's side, electricity crackling between his fingers.

  "Light them up. Everything in that push."

  Jackson grinned. "Finally."

  Lightning erupted from his hands in a branching arc. The bolt struck the lead goblin and jumped, leaping from body to body through the compressed mass. Goblins convulsed, spasmed, and fell dead. The charge's momentum shattered as survivors stumbled over electrocuted corpses.

  "Again!"

  Another arc and more goblins fell.

  The eastern line stabilized.

  The Chain Lightning skill was perfect for such tight quarters and so much metal.

  "Rotate tired fighters! Fresh shields to the front!"

  The battle ground on. Minutes that felt like hours, each second measured in goblin blood and human sweat. The fortifications performed beyond Jonah's hopes. Kill zones accumulated bodies. Barriers channeled attacks into manageable streams. Elevated platforms let ranged units rain death on any concentration of enemies.

  The goblin commander tried three more concentrated pushes. Each one broke against the prepared defenses. Shamans managed occasional spells, but the suppression teams limited their impact. Hobgoblin officers led charges that died in the funnel mouths.

  Then, finally, the horn sounded.

  Not an attack horn, but the retreat signal.

  Goblin formations began collapsing backward, not routing, but withdrawing in an organized retreat, maintaining formation, and dragging wounded with them.

  The second wave was broken.

  The cheering started before the last goblins disappeared into the corrupted buildings.

  "We did it! We actually did it!"

  "They're running! Did you see them run?"

  "We own this park now!"

  Voices overlapping, fighters embracing, weapons raised in triumph. The relief was palpable. They'd faced the enemy, held the line, and won. The fortifications had worked. The tactics had worked. They'd proven they could survive.

  Jonah watched the celebration spread and felt his stomach clench.

  No. No, no, no.

  He saw it happening in real time before he was close enough to stop it. Fighters breaking formation to pursue retreating goblins. Others wandering toward goblin corpses, eyes bright with thoughts of loot and greed. A cluster near the eastern barrier had already started stripping useful items from the dead.

  Derek's voice cut through the celebration. The man had climbed onto a debris pile, arms raised, playing to the crowd.

  "We've got this! Two waves down, one to go! They can't break us!"

  More cheering. People gravitating toward the display of confidence.

  Poison. It was all poison.

  "Everyone back to positions!" Jonah's voice cracked across the celebration like a whip. "No one leaves formation! No looting until the all-clear!"