We all stood for a moment, frozen in shock. In only a few seconds our highest Ranked Tanks had been ruthlessly murdered by what we had dismissed as part of the decor.

  As we processed the fact that we now faced enemies far beyond what the dungeon Rank would suggest, I noticed blue flame flaring into existence beneath the visors of the Knights.

  “They’re all like that!” I called out.

  “Fuck this, I’m out.” One of the more lightly equipped Hunters spat out. Lightning crackled around his feet and lower legs, and he suddenly sped forward towards the door, aiming dead center of the passageway to keep a safe distance from the now clearly dangerous armor.

  He only made it as far as the entranceway. One of the Knights blurred in motion even faster, and the speedster was suddenly bisected, the sword held still in the Knight’s hand. The man’s body did not stop, but carried on separately in a spray of blood, its speed unchanged. The two halves flew along the entrance passage, viscera unraveling, until they landed and slid along the ground to a stop.

  As the Knight moved back into position, the shadows in the corridor shifted, and the doors we’d entered through slowly closed. The sound of their final movement reverberated throughout the amphitheater with undamped finality.

  At the same time, the brass circle flared into life, a blue flame rushing upwards a few feet before settling down to a dull, icy blue glow.

  Juna now clung to my arm, and I could feel her shaking. I could feel the same fear amongst the rest of the group. One of them retched. It was a familiar feeling to me—when every step inside a dungeon put me in the path of some monster very capable of killing me, I had learned to move and think in the face of fear. It’s not that I wasn’t terrified right now, because I was—I’d never been so scared in all my time in dungeons. But I was not as paralyzed by it as the other Hunters who’d never really faced something so overwhelming. I faced that kind of thing every time I walked into a dungeon.

  “Parker!” I called out. That was all he needed to break out of his freeze. He immediately started shouting orders.

  “All right folks, we’re leaving. Tanks in front, melee to the rear. Move as one, keep your guard up. Casters and archers, nail anything that moves before it gets to us.”

  Yet another knife-hand directed us towards the entrance corridor. I hoped we didn’t suffer the same fate as the hunter who attempted it by himself.

  As soon as we crossed the brass circle again, the Knights began to move. The two flanking the corridor moved to block it, in ready stances. The rest moved towards us, much slower than I expected from their movements moments ago, but with an inexorable weight to their steps.

  I was at the center again as our group moved forward, blasts of magic spilling out in front of us and impacting on the two Knights blocking our path. They rocked in place, but didn’t move. As we pressed forward, the barrage thinned out as some spells and arrows started being directed at the Knights approaching from the sides.

  A foolish move—I’d have preferred to focus on breaking through. But then, I was no Raid Leader. A mere E-Rank was never going to be put in charge of others. Maybe Parker had a better plan.

  I looked behind us at the Knights that threatened our rear. With the greatest distance to travel, they were not yet close enough to draw the attention of our ranged attackers. But I did notice something strange—instead of taking the shortest route to us, they moved around the brass circle, never even touching the inlay.

  “Parker…” I called out once more.

  He raised a hand with one finger up—the universal sign to be quiet and wait. Someone else was not so polite.

  “Not now, E-Rank.”

  The tanks were more wary, and more prepared than Johnson and Reeves had been, and were backed by healers and casters. Swirls of magic wreathed their bodies in green, gold, and blue, and one of them bulked up and grew a foot or so taller so he matched the Knight he was about to oppose. The Hunter hefted his shield, and spun the long-handled flanged mace in his other hand—once, twice—then rested it cocked on his shoulder.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The Knight brought his longsword down in a sharp descending cut, and the Tank pushed out with his shield angled to deflect it. He spun his mace out at the same time to snap into the Knights head.

  I almost shouted with excitement when the helmet crumpled.

  I was cut short however, by the way the Knight carried through into the next cut unhindered by what would have crushed a man’s skull. It slid off the big Tanks shield again, but he was reactive now, struggling to keep up with the flowing strikes that kept him on the back foot.

  The other tank was faring no better. Without the increased size from the other tanks ability, he was actually losing ground, the opposing Knights’ reach preventing him from closing and pushing through. I could see this was about to end horribly for all of us.

  I looked behind us. The most distant of the Knights were about to round the brass circle and head directly towards us. They would soon close off any retreat to what I was sure was a safe zone. I called out once again.

  “Parker! They can’t cross the circle!”

  He turned around to look behind us. Unfortunately, so did the smaller tank. The Knight that was pressing him struck a blow at the inside of his shield, opening his guard up. The Knight took immediate advantage, plunging downwards into a thrust that found the visor of our tank’s helmet with a scrape of metal and crunch of bone. He collapsed immediately, and the next swing of the Knight’s sword plunged deep into the neck of one of the casters now exposed.

  “Back to the circle!” shouted Parker, and I needed no further encouragement. I grabbed Juna’s hand and pulled her with me. We needed to get to the circle before the Knights closed in.

  Behind me, I heard more footsteps, more crunches, more cries of pain.

  “Sean!” Juna screamed as she stumbled. I kept her steady, but the action took us off course, dangerously close to one of the approaching Knights. Dread thudded in my stomach as its head turned towards us. It changed course.

  With a sudden step, its blade flashed out, and it was my turn to stumble. Juna yanked on my arm as well, and with the other arm outstretched for balance we both tumbled over the brass line and inside the circle. We held our breaths as the Knight kept moving towards us, its sword raised to strike.

  It stopped at the brass inlay.

  It paused for a moment, the blue flame in its visor feeling like a malevolent gaze boring into us, before it turned towards the rest of our group, weapon once again at the ready.

  I was now able to pay attention to the results of what I’d heard as we’d been running. Three more bodies lay on the ground, and the enlarged tank was still where I last saw him, only he was now fending off two Knights. The remainder of our group was close enough behind us to be over the line now, or close to it.

  One more died as the Knight that almost caught us sliced through them as they ran, robes no barrier to magically enhanced sharp steel. Blood splashed across the face of the woman closest, and she flinched.

  “Sean!” Juna shouted again, pointing at my left side. “Your arm!”

  I looked down. My arm was missing below the elbow, the leather cut clean through. Blood dripped onto the floor in pulses, large splashes each time. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed it happening as we ran. I was starting to feel light headed.

  “Sit down, Sean,” Juna commanded, and I practically collapsed. Her hands glowed with a green light as she wrapped them around the remains of my elbow. The blood stopped flowing almost immediately, but then the pain started.

  As I’ve mentioned, healing hurt vastly more than the wound did. I hadn’t felt a thing from having my arm removed, but my body obviously had—my brain just wasn’t taking calls. In all my time in dungeons, of all the wounds and healing I’d taken, this was the most excruciating. I could feel the skin growing over the wound. I gritted my teeth and groaned through it.

  The survivors inside the circle of enchanted brass watched with me as the Knights converged on the only one of us remaining outside the safe zone. Parker shouted a warning, but the man was too focused on staying alive. We could only watch as three Knights closed in on his sides and rear. Holding their swords with one hand on the blade like they were using a spear, they thrust them into the gaps in his armor.

  He flinched at the unexpected attacks, and that was enough to open his guard. The two Knights he’d been fighting already capitalized on this immediately, following the same method to find gaps to thrust into. Skewered by five blades, he still refused to fall, caving in one empty helmet with his mace. The next blow was weak however, and the rest simply clattered off armor as he collapsed to his knees, driven down by the swords he was impaled on.

  One of the women inside the circle screamed his name in anguish, as two other hunters held her back from crossing the circle.

  The Knights all turned to us as one, and paused for a moment. Then slowly, at the same pace they had crossed the room to slaughter us, they returned to their posts under each flame on the wall.

  The room fell silent except for the wracking sobs of the woman, now collapsed in the arms of the ones who held her back.