Anthony marched with a calculated swagger, David and Christine trailing him like obedient curs. Every time an Ogre dropped to a knee, Anthony felt the weight of his bluff getting heavier.

  “Just a little further, Warchief,” one of the guards grunted, gesturing toward a massive, soot-stained tent at the center of the camp.

  On either side of the entrance sat eight wooden-barred cages. Anthony’s stomach turned as he saw the occupants: humans and apes, their ribs showing through matted hair and skin, staring out with hollow eyes. The stench of the camp—a mix of rotting meat and unwashed giants—was enough to make his head swim.

  Four hulking guards stood at the flap, spears in hand and heavy hammers dangling from belts that barely held up their filthy loincloths.

  “Hail, High Warchief!” they bellowed in unison, hitting the dirt as the guard led them inside.

  The guard stopped abruptly, blocking David and Christine with a massive arm. “Sorry. No Goblin Dogs in the High Tent. They stay outside,” he grunted, his breath smelling like swamp water.

  Anthony didn't skip a beat. “That is fine!” he barked, pitching his voice to a command. “Take them to the pits. I shall fetch them myself when my business is concluded.”

  With a few sharp hand signals, the guard led his friends away, leaving Anthony alone in the dim, flickering light of the tent.

  “It has been a long time since we last met, High War Chief Gurag of the Ironskin,” a deep, gravelly voice echoed from behind a heavy hide veil. The air in the tent felt thick with the scent of old blood and ancient magic.

  “How long it has been does not matter,” Anthony replied, his voice cold and steady. “I am here now. That is all that concerns you.”

  “I suppose it is,” the Chieftain rumbled. “What brings the legendary Ironskin to my sand-choked doorstep on a day such as this?”

  “Business. Humans have entered the land. They’ve already breached the Ice Giant stronghold on Drake Mountain, and their eyes are turned toward your clan next.”

  “Ha! Those puny pink-skins are no match for the Desert Clan!” The Chieftain roared with laughter. He swept aside the hide veil, revealing a mountain of muscle adorned with the bleached skulls of a dozen different races. In his lap rested a maul the size of a battering ram, crusted with the dried remains of his enemies.

  Behind him, five female ogres lounged amongst buckets of raw, dripping meat. The Chieftain gestured to them with a wicked grin. “I would offer you company, but you seem like a man in a hurry.”

  “On the contrary,” Anthony said, his hand sliding toward his concealed hilts. “I think I’ll stay a while. But first, I must ask: Have you made your peace with your god?”

  The Chieftain threw his head back, a mocking bray of laughter erupting from his throat. “Why would I need a go—”

  He never finished. Anthony blurred forward, a shadow against the flickering torchlight. Two daggers buried themselves deep into the Chieftain’s throat. With a savage, outward rip, Anthony sheared through muscle and vein. The Chieftain’s laughter turned into a wet, gurgling wheeze as he slumped forward, his life-blood soaking into the fine furs of his throne.

  “Heh. You should never talk down to humans,” Anthony whispered, watching the light fade from the Chieftain's eyes. “You never know when you’re going to meet the last one you'll ever see.”

  He didn't waste a heartbeat. As the five female ogres scrambled to find their voices, Anthony became a blur of steel and shadow. He moved from one flickering torch-light to the next, his daggers finding their marks with silent, surgical precision. Within seconds, the tent was quiet again, save for the crackle of the hearth.

  Anthony stood in the center of the carnage and closed his eyes. His body shifted and expanded, his bones popping and skin coarsening until he stood nearly ten feet tall. He reached down, donning the Chieftain's blood-soaked necklace of skulls and gripping the massive maul. It felt heavy, but in this form, he had the strength to wield it.

  “Better,” Anthony grunted, his voice now a deep, guttural rumble. “Now, let’s create some real chaos.”

  He marched to the tent flap, his shadow looming large against the canvas. He threw back the hides and bellowed with the authority of a god.

  “GUARDS!” Anthony’s roar shook the very poles of the tent. “Gather the clan! Bring every Ogre and every filth-ridden Goblin to me! We march for war!”

  Drums began to thrum, a rhythmic thunder that pulled every monster in the camp toward the High Tent. David gave Christine a sharp nod. As the Ogre guard turned his head to catch a glimpse of the "Chieftain," the two goblin dogs vanished.

  “Where did the dogs go?” the Ogre grunted, scratching his massive, balding head in confusion. He looked at the empty leashes, completely unaware of the two mice scurrying beneath the hem of a nearby tent.

  David and Christine blurred through the camp, a pair of gray streaks weaving between the massive, hurried feet of Ogres and Orcs. They made a B-line for the main gate, where the Goblin sentries were too busy staring at the Chieftain’s tent to watch their own backs.

  In a sudden, violent explosion of fur and feathers, the mice were gone. In their place stood two massive [Level 48 Owlbears]. Before the Goblins could scream, they were crushed under heavy paws and tossed over the spiked walls like discarded trash.

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  “The guards are relieved of duty,” David rumbled, his Owlbear voice a deep, vibrating growl. He glanced at the horizon. “The sun is going down. We need to get this gate open.”

  “Yes, Father,” Christine said, her Owlbear beak clacking with a hint of annoyance. “But after that, we get to smash everything, right?”

  “Of course,” David replied, a predatory glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t keep the fun from my Murder Princess.”

  “You’re the best! Can I use my [Boom Berries]?” Christine asked, her massive talons fidgeting excitedly beneath her chin.

  “Ha! Of course.”

  They braced their massive shoulders against the heavy timber bar, lifting it with a groan of straining wood. With a piercing, metallic creak that echoed across the desert floor, the great doors swung wide.

  “Come, my minions!” Anthony’s Ogre-voice boomed, carrying across the thousands of assembled monsters. “A new enemy rises, and we shall be the ones to crush them into the sand! Sunrise brings a battle so gruesome the gods themselves will turn their heads!”

  A thunderous cheer erupted, the sound of rhythmic weapon-clashes on shields shaking the earth.

  High above, silhouetted against the rising moon, David and Christine banked on the wind, watching the sea of torches below. Through the shimmering veil of [Osia’s Mind-Link], the crew's voices echoed in their heads.

  “What’s the cue again?” Victor’s mental voice was shaky, vibrating with nervous energy.

  “The cue is: 'We Will Rise,'” Tomas commanded, his mental tone like cold iron. “Nothing before that. Do you hear me? Keep the comms clear.”

  “Yes, sir!” Victor replied instantly. “But... I still start with the fireball, right? The big one?”

  “Yes, Victor. You get the opening shot,” Tomas sighed.

  “Okay... okay. I’m just nervous,” Victor’s voice trailed off into a mental whimper.

  “You’ll do fine, Vic,” Ann added softly, her presence in the mind-link a stabilizing force. “Just point it at the biggest cluster of goblins and let it rip.”

  “Tonight, we will RISE to the occasion!”

  Anthony’s cue hadn’t even fully left his lungs when the horizon detonated. Victor’s fireball screeched overhead, a roaring meteor that vaporized the front row of the Ogre assembly.

  “NOW!” Tomas’s voice roared through the mind-link.

  From the darkened clouds, David and Christine plummeted like falling stars. They shifted mid-air, four tons of Owlbear muscle slamming into the Goblin ranks with a bone-shattering crunch.

  It was total chaos, Ann moved through the fray like a goddess of war, her body expanding in size as her greatsword elongated, its edge glowing with a guillotine’s hunger. Every swing didn't just kill; it lopped off heads three at a time.

  Suddenly, the earth hissed. Neon blue spirit-chains erupted from the sand, binding the remaining Ogres where they stood. As they struggled, the very goblins Ann and the Owlbears had just killed began to twitch. Their eyes flared with a sickly green light as they tore themselves out of the dirt.

  “Eat, my fiends,” Tomas commanded, his voice cold as the grave. “Feast upon the giants!”

  A figure of living, burning stone—wreathed in blue flames—plowed into the thick of the fight. Every punch and kick sent ripples of blue energy ten feet beyond the point of impact, disintegrating anything caught in the wake. Nearby, Hunter’s metallic discs hummed a song of death, whirring through the air to decapitate goblins while his mother hovered above, her light cascading down to mend the crew's wounds from a distance. And at Osia’s side, Riley stood as a silent, lethal sentinel, his twin blades carving a circle of safety around the telepath.

  “Well, the ruse is up, my kiddies. May as well join the dance,” Anthony chirped. He melted into the shadows, his Ogre form dissolving back into his true, lethal self. He materialized behind a pair of chained Ogres, leaping onto their backs like a predatory cat. His poison-coated blades hissed as they sank into thick hide before he flipped away, leaving them to collapse as the toxins hit their hearts.

  Nearby, a cluster of Goblin archers was preparing to volley. “Hello there!” a cheerful voice whispered from the darkness. Rick emerged from a pocket of shadow, his knife buried in a Goblin's ribs before the creature could even turn. He ducked a frantic elbow, flicked a throwing blade into the throat of the next archer, and vanished back into the shadows.

  The slaughter was nearing its end when the cave mouth exploded. A massive Ogre—a true behemoth—charged out, swinging long, heavy chains. Lashed to the ends of the steel links were living Goblins, their hands clutching rusted shortswords as they were swung like screaming, organic flails.

  “I’ve got this one,” David rumbled. He didn't shift; he simply charged. He launched into the air, a gravity-defying leap that brought him level with the giant’s face. One massive, reinforced punch landed with the sound of a falling boulder. The Ogre’s head snapped back, his body hitting the dirt with a bone-shaking thud. David landed gracefully, systematically silencing the few flail-goblins that had survived the impact.

  “You guys ruined my plans!” Anthony cried, wiping blood from his dagger. “I finally had an army! I could have been a king!”

  “Ah, you’ll get over it, Drama Queen,” Cat said, fluttering down from the sky on iridescent wings. She looked over the burning camp with an expert eye. “Good job, everyone. That was perfectly executed.”

  “Mom? What about the cages?” Hunter asked, gesturing to the starving humans and apes.

  “We set them free and heal them, of course,” Cat replied gently. “David, honey? Would you do the honors?”

  “Anything for you, my love,” David replied, his fierce combat eyes softening. “But first... payment.” He marched over, swept Cat into a crushing embrace, and planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips amidst the ruins of the Desert Clan.

  “Eww! Get a room!” Christine shouted, shielding her eyes from her parents’ victory kiss.

  David broke the embrace just long enough to give his daughter a wicked grin. “What? Don't mind if I do!”

  “Cages first,” Cat interrupted, placing a firm hand on David’s chest, though her eyes were shining with affection.

  “Fine! Cages first, then a room?” David asked.

  “Cages, healing, and talking to the survivors and dungeon first,” Cat corrected with a smirk. “Then we’ll talk about a room.”

  David gave a mock salute and marched toward the rows of prisons. He didn't bother with keys. He simply gripped the thick, iron-bound wooden bars and flexed. With a series of thunderous cracks, the doors were ripped from their hinges.

  From the largest cage, a massive figure ducked his head to step out. He stood nearly eight feet tall, his skin the color of weathered stone, but his features were unmistakably human. A half-giant.

  “Thank you,” the man rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. He looked at the burning camp, then at the two Owlbears and the man-turned-Chieftain. “My name is James Richard. How can I ever repay such a debt?”

  “You don't have to,” Cat said, stepping forward as her healing light began to knit the survivors' wounds. “You’re free to go. Find your families.”

  James Richard looked at her with profound respect. “The desert will tell the story of this night for a hundred years. What is the name of your group?”

  Cat didn't hesitate. She looked back at her chaotic, lethal family and smiled.

  “The Crew,” she said plainly.

  "I shall repay my debt now and follow you, if that is alright with you." James said.

  "Ok, welcome to the crew." Cat said plainly.