)+\( Hugo )/+(

Hugo stumbled back on unsteady feet, and looked down at his shaking hands. The bone armor that covered them was beset by a series of harsh cracks, and he knew Serroc's bone gauntlets would not last much longer. The rest of the armor was strained as well, worn and damaged from its arduous task to keep him alive, despite the golems' best efforts.

His gamble had worked - for a time. Relying on the stats granted by his level, and the armor gifted by his friend, had allowed him to beat one of the hulking enemies into dormancy. They even held up a second time, as he drew on every bit of his training and experience to engage in melee with the brutes. Simple, violent combat. Dozens and hundreds of seemingly ineffective strikes that eventually drained the crystal-fueled suits of armor.

Such tactics were only temporarily successful.

Hugo felt himself flagging. He lifted an arm to intercept another blow from one of the two golems focused on him, and was slammed sideways into another storefront. This one seemed to specialize in apartment-sized appliances. Hugo dislodged his elbow from a tiny toasting oven and stomped back towards the broken shop window. He stepped up and over it, back into the street.

Back into the fight.

An electrical flash lit up the adjacent street, and Tal let out a tremendous roar as lightning crescendoed, then stopped with a pop. Smoke like an electrical fire wafted high into the air. Hugo wished they had run. He wished they could. Maybe the golems had cut off their chance for escape. Maybe Hugo had failed to take enough of the enemy's attention to allow them to flee. Whatever the case, the flashes of their engagements he witnessed confirmed how dire the situation was.

The two golems focused on Hugo both came running from his right. He ducked an enemy swing, and punched straight up. The impact of bone on metal sent a shock back down his arm, but Hugo followed one strike with another as he turned and lashed out at the golem's leg. Metal dented, and the enemy slowed, just a little. It lashed out with a leg, and Hugo dove back to avoid one blow - and found himself in the way of another. The second golem's massive fist slammed into Hugo's stomach and drove his body into the stone street. It cracked underneath him as the road - and his armor - threatened to buckle from the immense pressure. Bone slowly fractured, and Hugo felt the air be driven from his lungs - slowly. He railed his fists into the hand of the enemy. When that did nothing, he kicked against the ground.

Hugo panted against the soulless force crushing him into the streets of his city - holding him and crushing his life away, like he had done to so many of the invaders. He smiled at the simple irony of his demise. The second golem lumbered towards him, and raised a foot above Hugo's head. Hugo grit his teeth. Visions of a repaired city and Vidita in a regal orange dress flashed in his mind. When was the last time he saw color?

A deafening whine rose from where Tal was fighting, and a bright thin lance of flames leapt forward and crashed through multiple buildings.

The last words he spoke to Vidita were simple, insignificant things. He wished he had chosen to be more profound - that he had opened himself and conveyed the true depths of his love. It mattered not whether she knew - he wanted to have said it. He still wanted to say it.

Something primal swelled near his navel. He wanted to live - he wanted everything he had worked for, sacrificed for, and killed for. His mana and his soul energy shook and swirled. His power. Cables and structures of energy that Nyx had helped him create, completely ineffective against the physical things killing him. All because he had no way to -

His eyes snapped open and Hugo flung his hands at the descending foot while his body strained to enact Hugo's will. Thick cables of wound soul energy and mana snaked through his torso, then up his arms. He drew them clear up to the palms of his hands, and screamed.

Hugo forced an untenable, uncontrollable level of power to burst forth from his tightly wound cables. It felt as though it was ripping apart his arms from the inside out, but he could still feel his muscles there flexed and rigid. His hands burned. The light of his own soul blinded his vision.

A heavy weight impacted Hugo's arms. His elbows started to bend back. He let out another cry and pushed himself harder as the glow and burn intensified. His arms stilled - and then he shoved the weight back. The crash of metal against stone told Hugo he had managed to topple the stomping golem. He balled a fist, and hurled it into the hand still pressed against his chest. Bone armor splintered and broke away, and Hugo's knuckles smashed against the hard metal.

It dented under the blow.

He punched out blindly, burning and glowing fists slammed against the metal over and over as he struggled. He shoved both hands into the depressions created from his attacks, and heaved. Metal creaked as Hugo's glowing arms lifted the golem's fist off his chest, and it fell over on its side.

He panted for breath, and the light and energy in his arms faded. The golem on the ground was dark. Hugo tried to stand, and managed to get to one knee before his muscles gave out completely. His body and his mana were both spent. Hugo wished to keep fighting, to explore what he had managed to do to empower his physical body with soul and magic. He wished he had found the possibility of what he had just accomplished sooner, and practiced with it so that the current situation would never have befallen their group.

The second golem stomped towards him with a steady gait, and the same foot that nearly crushed his skull wound back for a kick.

A harsh whine spooled behind Hugo for a moment, and he turned in time to see a bright, thin lance of flames fly forward over his shoulder. It struck the golem just right of the center of the vents on its chest. Metal melted away in a fraction of a second, and the flames seemed to devour the crystal inside the golem's chest before it cut clean through the other side and smashed through a block of buildings.

Smoke billowed out from the melted hole in the golem's chest, and it dropped to the street.

A Vuxarinan woman in patchwork armor slid into view, and quickly flitted her eyes over Hugo's frame before lifting both hands. A faint glow accompanied a soothing sensation as her magic ran over his limbs, then his center. Healing magic. She turned to her left with clipped words.

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"Better shape than the rest. Mundane medicine until I get the others stabilized. If we-"

Her instructions were interrupted by a loud shout.

"HEADS!"

The woman ducked a little lower, and pulled at Hugo's shoulder. A new line of flames shot by less than ten feet away, and burrowed its way through an approaching golem. The healer in front of Hugo raised her head and shot a frustrated expression towards the source of the flames.

"Gasten's ashes, would it kill her to give us more warning? Ugh. Alright. Fatigue pill, then follow." The woman darted off without waiting for a reply, and a group of less powerful Vuxarinans produced a small marble sized item that they promptly shoved down his throat. They fussed over him for a few moments before the healing mage shouted again. At her call, they broke into a dead sprint. "TRIAGE!"

Every few seconds, new lances of flames burst out from a larger group of troops, hauling what appeared to be a rolling, glowing generator that was attached to a thick tube with a series of snaking wires. A woman held the tube on her shoulder with one hand, and operated a wired remote with the other. Back at the generator, five more Vuxarinans swiftly swapped smoking mana crystals with fresh ones after each shot. A smaller form sat atop a seat near the back of the unit, hands flying between a series of levers and buttons.

They moved with an odd fluidity, like they were used to working together, but not used to the tasks they currently performed.

"Three more sets!"

"Seven enemies incoming!"

"Ready shields!"

"Grenadiers, arm up one!"

The shouts lifted into the air from the busy group, and even more rapid motion erupted in their midst. Another thin lance of flame shot out, and a golem fell.

"TWO SETS!"

Figures scrambled to replace smoking crystals. They sent furtive glances towards the incoming enemies as they worked.

"Arm up - Walls and Shields! WALLS. AND. SHIELDS."

"HEADS!"

The woman with the weapon cried out a second before she shot another burning lance of energy into a golem. It popped and smoked like the rest as its massive metal body tilted and crashed into a building. One of the five remaining golems behind it shoved the hulk of metal further into the building, and the streets filled with grinding, glass-breaking noise.

"LAST SET! HOLD PLASMA THROWER!"

"GRENADIERS LOOSE!"

Hugo looked back at the group in time to see a cloud of odd shapes go airborne. Some were physically thrown, others had been launched from odd, modified rifles. They landed with a deafening chorus as flames, spikes of varying material, and other forms of energy shot out wherever they hit. Despite the impressive display, the grenades were only as effective as his bone-armored punches had been. The golems dimmed, but pressed forward.

Then they started to lift their cannon arms.

"DEFENSES UP!"

The area exploded in motion. Projectiles barked forth from the five standing enemies. Most - but not all - of the helpful group charged skills or threw more odd devices directly in front of themselves. Golem fired cannons met hastily erected defenses, and the bodies of those too slow or unlucky to put up protection. More thrown objects found their way free of a growing cloud of smoke and debris. They too exploded on the enemy. Small damage built from the courageous attempts made while under attack from the deadly cannons.

The golems continued firing for almost two seconds. As soon as the cannons ceased, the hulking forms resumed their advance. More thrown objects told him the fighters in the smoke were still alive. A gust of wind cleared visibility and proved they were in better shape than Hugo dared to hope.

There were obvious casualties amongst their number. Dim or dark bodies held by violently grieving souls, and some that simply laid forgotten or unreachable on the battlefield.

But the vast majority were alive - and fighting.

Hugo marveled at the coordination and resilience of their forces while the fight progressed. They still had not used the final shot from their greatest weapon, and instead focused efforts to take down the golems with more fundamental means. Thrown objects, rifle fire of their own, launched magics and odd contraptions joined a continuous assault on Belar's massive golems. The assault concentrated as the hulking armor frames began to dim and fall. Each downed enemy was a costly endeavor, but the troops pressed on with professional and practiced resilience. Over the minutes, golems dimmed, and the last went dark to a series of well-placed projectile rounds sent from yet another weapon Hugo did not recognize.

The cacophony of battle was replaced by ringing in his ears. Hugo panicked, then relaxed as he witnessed Tal and his three remaining escorts be bussed on stretchers back into the newcomers' main group. The glow of healing magic and the fervor of more traditional medicine surrounded each, but he knew and felt that they would be fine with ambulatory attention on them.

He was about to let himself slump back to the ground when a small form broke out of the glowing mass of newcomers. They were flanked by four guards, one of which was the woman that had been holding and firing the plasma thrower that did so many of the golems in. Their soul was a splendid, active affair. Blue, white, and silver currents danced around and through one another, seeming to follow a shifting center where the motion was less pronounced. They gave off a wonderfully curious energy, and rose up and nearly off the individual's small frame, as if probing the very space around themselves in constant wonder.

Maybe most surprising, though, were the flashes. Tiny arcs of blue and white lightning crackled just below the surface, as though they were the first signs of a coming storm. The only other time he had seen something similar was in Serroc.

As the small form approached, more details were revealed. They wore a set of ivory armor much like his own, with what appeared to be a children's toy version of a mythical sword slung on his waist. A backpack in surprisingly good condition was slung over one shoulder, and the other held a sling attached to a small rifle inset with dozens of crystal fragments. He sported a fang-toothed grin, and waved with excitement.

"HI! I'm Lycra! You're safe now!"

NOTICE: You have met the leader of another faction. You have not shown hostility to this faction. You may enter agreements or trade on behalf of your faction, [The Osteal Empire]. NOTICE: Faction Met - [Lycra's]

Memories of Serroc and their long talk on the mountain rushed to the fore of his mind. The energetic man - no, more a boy - before him oozed the same inquisitive and bright nature his friend had described. His friend's true name nearly crested Hugo's lips, but he forced it back down. "Well met, and thank you for the assistance, Lycra. You must be Serroc's friend - he spoke highly of you."

Lycra's smile widened and he rushed in, skidding on the knees of his armor until he bumped into Hugo's side and crashed down onto his chest. Recognition flashed in the eyes of the woman following Lycra - quickly followed by shock, and a bit of fear. She tried to get Lycra's attention, but he was fixated on Hugo with glee and a bit of something sharper. His words came quickly.

"When did you tutorial end? How many days ago?"

The real answer slipped from Hugo's mind. "I cannot recall. But I do know it has been weeks, not days."

Lycra's smile faded into a half-pout, and he turned to the woman. "Jenna - he beat me! I LOST!"

Jenna flexed her fingers with a self-soothing breath, then carefully lifted Lycra off Hugo's chest. "Lycra, it isn't a race if Serroc didn't know you were racing. But if you wanted to get out first, maybe you should have spent less time in that lab." Lycra crossed his arms with an overdramatic huff. The woman - Jenna - continued. "More importantly, this man does not just know your friend. He is the crown prince of Vuxarina - the ruler of the planet." She punctuated the last statement with a crisp, militaristic bow.

Lycra's eyes flitted between Hugo and Jenna, then narrowed with suspicion as he pointed with two fingers.

"He can't be a prince! He doesn't have a crown!"

The absurdity of the moment joined Hugo's relief that he, Tal, and the escorts were saved and safe. A single chuckle first escaped him, then grew into a stomach-shaking and deep laughter.

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