Jack pumped the Steamrune Shotgun.
The distinctive pumping sound echoed. Even over the chittering of the approaching horde. He aimed low. Sweeping the barrel across the wave of Demonic Cockroach-men.
When he pulled the trigger... BANG! A wide blast of superheated shrapnel ripped through the front lines.
The creatures closest to him disintegrated. Into sprays of chitin and putrid green ichor. Others behind them stumbled. Their short legs flailing as they tried to maintain formation. Amidst their falling comrades.
He reloaded the gun with practiced efficiency. The metallic clack of the shell chamber was a familiar comfort. This was not a precise weapon for precise kills. This was for crowd control. For large number of weak enemies.
He fired again. A concentrated burst aimed at a cluster attempting to flank him. The shotgun's scattershot mode was devastating at close range. More of the creatures exploded into repulsive goo.
Beside him, Reina was a clear display of focused destruction. [Magic Missile] was normally a beginner spell. In her hand, it was not so. Her [Magic Missiles] were not just simple bolts of energy. They were super accurate projectiles of pure force.
Each one streaked through the air with a faint hum. Unerringly finding the weakest points on the cockroach-men.
She wasn't aiming for mass destruction. She was aiming for surgical strikes. Each one struck the head of the monsters. Right between their antennas.
The creatures screamed. A high-pitched, grating sound that vibrated through the ground. They twitched. Collapsed. Their numerous legs splaying out in spastic death throes.
Then she shifted. Grey, swirling energy coalesced around her and formed smoke bullets. They shot forward like solid rounds. [Fog Missiles].
These were different. When they struck, they didn't just pierce. They expanded. A cockroach-man would take a direct hit to the head. And its entire head would simply… be covered with a grey cloud. Leaving behind a helpless, thrashing body before it finally gave up.
It was a more gruesome kill. And Reina moved like a shadow. Her long black hair whipping around her as she spun. Her hand was a blur of mystic gesticulations. Each one conjuring another death.
The majority of the train passengers were stuck to the relative safety behind Jack and Reina. Non-transcendent. Weaponless. Their faces were etched with fear. Their bodies were trembling.
They were civilians. Caught in a nightmare. Some huddled together, whispering prayers. Others watched wide-eyed. Hoping their saviors would hold.
They were a liability. But Jack had committed to protecting them. It was the principle of the thing. The innocents.
But not all passengers were helpless. Four other transcendent individuals fought alongside Jack and Reina. Their unique powers cutting swathes through the endless tide of chitinous horrors.
One was a young man. He was barely out of his teens. The insignia in his outfit suggested that he was a student of Lonestone University. He was a Mystic Scholar.
Nick Glaiver, Jack noted his name from the information panel. One he could see through his [Eyes of Judgement]. Nick wielded a grimoire that glowed faintly with arcane light. His [Magic Missiles] were not as refined as Reina's. But they were precise enough.
He targeted the same weak points she did, though without her 100% accuracy. Zap! Zap! Zap! Each hit was a small, satisfying pop as a cockroach-man buckled.
When a cluster got too close, he would cast another spell. A shimmering, almost invisible barrier would flicker into existence. [Lesser Ward].
It wasn't strong enough to stop a full charge. But it bought precious seconds. Deflecting the first few creatures before they swarmed it. He wasn't flashy. But he was effective. A disciplined novice.
Then there was a grizzled, old man. His shirt already torn from the sheer force of his muscles. Jack's [Eyes of Judgement] informed him that this was Olward Overgale. A Supernatural Sorcerer with the [Great Body Enhancement] talent.
He was less a sorcerer, more a wrecking ball. His body had swelled. Rippling with corded muscle under his weathered skin. He didn't cast spells. He became the spell.
He moved like a hulking brute. Each swing of his massive fists generating small shockwaves that pulped the cockroach-men into dust.
He roared. A primal sound of fury. Simultaneously, he grabbed a creature by its head and slammed it against the mangled train car. Splattering its insides.
He turned the enemies into helpless toys. Smashing them. Tearing them limb from limb with unholy strength. He was a bastion. Holding a critical section of the perimeter single-handedly.
The other two fighters were familiar to Jack. Though they clearly didn't recognize him or Reina. They were Amaranth White and her uncle, Lucca Rowmore.
Jack had encountered them once in Asquall Village. And during the Webmother's Inheritance case. Back then, he had been Jack Mystery. A specter. A masked ghost. And Reina had been Queen Mirage. A leader of the nefarious Night Salvation Association.
Their current appearances had changed. A lot. It was understandable they wouldn't connect the dots.
Amaranth, the inheritor of Mist Law, was far more powerful now. She moved with a fluid grace. Her hands were weaving intricate patterns in the air. Wisps of white mist coiled around her. Forming into serpentine shapes.
Before, she could summon maybe two or three. Now, eight ethereal Mist Serpents danced around her. Each one was a phantom viper with glowing eyes. They struck with incredible speed. Not biting with physical fangs. But dissolving their targets' life with a touch.
Where a serpent lunged, a cockroach-man would ripple and then collapse. Their forms died without any visibly sign. She was a silent, deadly force.
Her control over the serpents was quite absolute. Each one seemed to independently seek out and destroy targets.
Lucca Rowmore, her uncle, was equally formidable. The ex-priest's eyes were narrowed in intense concentration. His hands were held out, palms up.
Six glistening ceremonial daggers spun and darted around him as if alive. His telekinetic control had clearly improved dramatically. Since their last encounter.
Before, he could manage just two or three with precision. Now, the six daggers moved in a lethal ballet. Carving paths through the horde.
They spun. They sliced. They pierced. Each dagger was a miniature, flying Buzzsaw. Dismembering and decapitating the cockroach-men with horrifying efficiency.
He moved steadily forward, pushing back the encroaching tide, a whirlwind of sharpened steel. He was strong, methodical, and relentless.
Hours. It felt like an eternity. The sun had begun to reach the highest point of the day. The stench of ichor, scorched chitin, and fear hung heavy in the air.
The train car was already mangled. But it took even more abuse as the struggle continued around it.
Jack's shotgun grew hot. His arms had slightly ached from the constant recoil and reloading.
Reina's magic output was still stable. But her normally serene face was now set in a grim mask of resolve.
On the other hand, Nick's magic spells were starting to be unstable. His mana was dwindling fast.
Olward's roars were getting hoarse. But his punches and throws lost none of their bone-shattering impact.
Amaranth remained calm. Her mist serpents were still a constant, weaving wall of destruction. But beads of sweat were starting to appear on her forehead and temples.
Lucca was similar. His daggers still sang their deadly song without pause. But, his clothing was starting to get wet with sweat.
...
Finally, after what felt like an impossible duration, the tide began to recede. The chittering sounds diminished. Fewer forms emerged from the surrounding scrubland.
The last few desperate cockroach-men sensed the shift. They tried to flee. Only to be cut down by the relentless pursuit of the transcendent fighters.
The battlefield was once seething with life. Now, it had became a gruesome panorama of scattered chitin. Dismembered limbs. And pools of green goo.
Silence. A heavy, ringing silence descended. Broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors. And the distant cries of birds.
Jack lowered his shotgun. The weight of it felt suddenly much heavier. He surveyed the scene. Fifteen other survivors. Only fifteen. The train should have been packed.
The grim math was clear. Most were dead.
Of the fifteen, three were heavily injured. Their wounds were stark against their pale skin. Two were small children. Huddled together in their mother's hug. Their eyes were wide and traumatized.
The six transcendent individuals gathered in a loose circle. Their adrenaline was slowly receding. They were dirty, exhausted, but alive.
"My name is Nick Glaiver. Student from Lonestone University. Majoring in Ancient Languages." The young scholar said. His voice a little shaky. But resolute. "Thank you both. You saved us." He nodded towards Jack and Reina.
"Olward Overgale. Former mercenary." The old man grunted as he specifically looked at Jack. Recognizing him as a 'very-likely' mercenary too. His voice was rasping. His hulk-like brawler form had dissipated.
He now seemed like a grizzled old man. A tired one. He looked like he could use a long nap. And a new shirt.
"Amaranth White. Traveling herbalist." Amaranth said. Her voice was soft but clear. Her intelligent eyes were assessing. As they passed over Jack and Reina, there was no flicker of recognition.
"And this is my uncle, Lucca Rowmore." She continued. Lucca gave a curt nod.
"Jack Night." Jack replied in his deep voice. "A mercenary. Not in active duty though. I'm in honey-moon vacation."
He gestured to Reina. "This is Reina Night. My wife. We were just passing through on our way to Lonestone." He kept his tone neutral. Observing their reactions.
There was a few periods of silence after the introduction.
Olward was the first to break the silence. "Alright. We had more things to do now. What do you youngsters think?" His voice was a gravelly rumble.
"I'll scout around." Lucca said. His eyes were sweeping across the wrecked train and the surrounding woods. "There might be more of those things, or worse."
Amaranth looked at one of the heavily injured. Pulling small pouches from a satchel. "I have some herbal potions." She said. Her voice was soft but firm. "They'll stabilize the worst of the injuries."
"I can assist with the less severe injuries." Reina offered. "My [Healing Chant] is not for critical wounds. But it can close smaller ones and alleviate pain."
Nick Glaiver, the young scholar, looked around at the scattered monster corpses. "Someone needs to... deal with these monster bodies." He said, gesturing vaguely. "Making sure they are dead. Permanently."
He pulled out a small lighter, with intricately carved runes. "I'll deal with it."
Olward nodded grimly. "And the dead. They deserve a proper burial." He flexed his massive arms. "I'll start digging. Large enough holes to keep them safe from scavengers."
All eyes turned to Jack.
"What was the destination of this train?" Jack instead asked.
"Mirebarrow Town. About two hours from here with the train speed." Nick replied. Looking at the wrecked train and sighed.
"I'll go to Mirebarrow, then. Report this mess, get some real help out here." Jack said. "Any chance anyone of you had something to quickly convince people there to help? I don't really want to deal with stupidly long bureaucracy."
"Take this." Nick gave Jack a pocket watch. "Give it to the mayor. He should recognize that. He was my father."
"Good." Jack put the watch in his pocket. "Love, you stay here. Help where you can. I'll return as soon as possible."
Reina nodded. Not a hint of argument in her posture. "Be careful, Dear."
Jack didn't waste another moment. He retrieved his hoverbike, which had been parked strategically behind a cluster of trees. Out of the direct line of fire.
The engine hummed to life. A low, powerful thrum. He swung onto the seat. Checking his weapons one last time. He gave a curt nod to the others.
"I'll be back as fast as I can."