It was chaos of the most dangerous variety. Chemilia thrived in it.

Pale pink hair fluttering in the draft of her motions, she narrowly dodged under the flying morning star of the Ironborn in front of her. Aura active, she tried to kick her enemy with her right leg. The blade that jutted out of the front of the mechanical limb’s lower half could have cut even the metal shell of that humanoid monstrosity.

The Ironborn, however, was faster than her and rapidly dodged to the side. It exposed the copper-bodied soldier to a punch from Ted. That one connected and put a tiny dent in the ribcage of the Ironborn. A swipe of the ememy’s arm smacked against the side of Ted’s head.

Chemilia shouted as her husband hit the ground, as did the second woman in their little triangle relationship. Corith, once a mercenary of Amacat, charged towards the Ironborn and hit him directly with a martial art.

As John had predicted in the strategy meeting, the Ironborn did not know how to properly handle this particular variant of combat prowess. Body language indicated that their opponent had intended to take the hit and land a stronger one in retaliation. The extra burst provided by the martial art threw him off balance, making the swing of the morning star a pitiful rattle of chains.

Corith was the strongest of the three of them and even she was not quick enough to capitalize on the enemy’s mistake. A rapid retreat allowed the Ironborn to dodge Corith’s swing and knee her in the face.

By now, Chemilia was about to attempt a new attack of her own. A surge of weirdness forced her attention elsewhere. She turned to see Alice smirkingly stare down an Ironborn with a head that only had a pair of eyes and a body that was extremely thin. Severest the Quiet, as he was called, trembled visibly before the pariah, whose very existence was the prospect of annihilation to his kind. Staring at her must have been like staring at a never encountered predator, whose appearance was hard-coded into his genes as terrifying. A croaking, cawing, salivating sound rang over the battlefield and, for one moment, silenced everything nearby.

Chemilia, after all the time she had spent with Nia, was one of the first to recover. The Ironborn before her snapped out of it when she had raised her foot to the height of his chest. With his speed, he may have been able to catch the bladed heel. That was when a piece of debris smashed against the side of his head, disorienting the Ironborn for long enough that she penetrated the Baelementium hull.

Mechanics inside her leg activated according to her intent and the blade within was accelerated by the hammer mechanism inside. Scarlett’s technology proved its worth completely, ramming the blade through the core of the Ironborn and then immediately retreating, allowing Chemilia to get ready for the next attack.

It didn’t come. Not immediately, anyway. It gave her a moment to give Ted a thankful nod. Her husband stoically picked up another rock. Limited as his control over earth was, his Innate Ability was still more useful here than Chemilia’s. Creating internal pressure was no use for targets that typically had an open ribcage.

The now motionless remains of the Ironborn tipped over when the lack of balancing will let gravity take over. ‘At best that was a Duke,’ Chemilia thought and swallowed, her eyes darting over to where Alice had engaged Severest. The two of them had vanished from the spot and were now somewhere beyond the screen of clashes. All around, the coalition of Fusion pushed the Ironborn forces, leveraging the more severe reaction the magical beings typically had to pariahs. That advantage would soon fade.

Chemilia gestured towards Ted and Corith and the trio immediately re-joined the fray. They had to stick together as three to have any chance of survival. Each of them could have taken on a Lord, each of them had a good chance against a Baron, together they could confidently fight a Duke, but if they encountered an Archduke, of which there were anywhere between six and nine in this crowd, they could only delay until someone else helped them. Anything further up and it would be the greatest struggle for their lives since Sigmund.

It was chaos all around.

They were at the heart of the fighting, at the border between where the original dome had been and where the new outer perimeter was. At this crossroads was the intersection of two walkways, the only remaining flat terrain in the environment. The new areas were entirely made up of hovering platforms and pillars over a pit. While the fall seemed survivable, the necromantic mist pooled densely down there, an ocean of semi-translucent, shifting faces. Still, at least there was hope there, unlike the kilometre-deep shaft that was where the six segments and the ziggurat had been.

This had been where the forces had first stood, where most had made their stand, and where the Ironborn had started to converge. Only the most powerful or adventurous of the coalition had moved beyond.

The near absolute uniformity of their opponents only elevated the colourful mix of forces they had on their side. In the span of ten minutes, Chemilia found herself back to back with one of Olaf’s giant viking friends, finishing off an Ironborn weighted down by Maximillian’s elemental, the living black hole Hawpler, gave an African swordsman the space he needed to sheathe his weapon in slicing water, and witnessed a rat man blast down three Lords in quick succession.

The last may have been the most impressive of it all. The three of them had charged in to help the brown-furred, monk-robed humanoid rodent. When he had dropped the hobo bag on a stick in his hand and reached inside, out came an unholy fusion between magical crystals and the kind of machine gun that should have been attached to an aircraft, not been in the hands of a small rat person.

“EAT, EAT WARPSTONE!” the Hobomice shouted, as the barrels started turning. Green crystals all over the semi-improvised weaponry started glowing, moments before blasts of magic riddled the three Ironborn Lords with holes. The stream of recoil pushed the small humanoid back. His top hat bounced between his large rat ears, as did the raven that sat on the shoulder of the Horned Rat’s aid. Even that raven had a top hat on.

It was a very bizarre sight, the kind that made Chemilia laugh to herself. A bit of levity, appreciated in the otherwise extreme stress of the current situation.

The barrel had barely started to slow when another Ironborn punted the Hobomice. It was only a couple of steps off to one side, but the ally was regardless out of sight immediately, hidden by the two large frames of William Brighton crossing blades with a tall Ironborn, whose bulky appearance matched the full plate armour of the paladin.

The aged redhead’s eyes darted over to Chemilia. “Lady, I know you to guide us even here, bless us so we overcome this darkness!” he shouted, pushing against the Ironborn before him with all his might.

“Only the Emperor has power here,” the Ironborn disclaimed and pulled back.

Rays of golden light enveloped Chemilia, Ted and Corith. Aches and wounds from previous engagements closed and their steps felt light, aiding them as they charged towards the plated Ironborn. He was ready for them, swinging his two-handed sword in a wide arc. All of them were forced back. William brought his own blade down on the Ironborn’s head. The dark metal of the helmet rang, a dent carved into its side. The noxious green eyes flickered.

The Ironborn reversed his swing, the grey blade swinging at the current leader of the Order of the Golden Rose. William took the hit. The edge of the blade smashed against the armour, then got stuck between the paladin’s side and the fully plated arm he wrapped around. “Now, faithless allies!”

“There’s nicer things to call us!” Chemilia shouted back, as they obliged the order.

The Ironborn tried to pull his blade back. Ted came to assist William in holding the enemy still. Corith cut off his retreat, smacking his exposed back with a martial art. Chemilia, all the while, laid into him with a series of punches. Each hard impact on the solid metal body travelled up to her shoulder. Every time, she sent a little something back.

This one did not appear to have any holes in his surface.

The Ironborn must have felt what Chemilia was doing and shouted, “Help me!” His shout was picked up by several of the rank-and-file Ironborn Lords. The originally dispersed enemy forces were still charging at their location. They had the numbers. Thankfully, the coalition not only had a broad selection of highly elite individuals, but a diversity of tactics prepared to deal with the uniformity of the Ironborn.

Five Lords lined up, aiming their spells to free this higher-ranking Ironborn. Before they could fire, golden lightning blasted them from the side. Three of them were blown over instantly, their bodies melted from the intensity of the spell. The other two found a piece of the lightning jump between them, manifesting into an middle-aged Asian woman in a suit. The second charge of her attack still crackled in her left hand while Nariko punched through the chest of one Ironborn with her right. The intensity of the martial art blew her hair back. Dark blue and open, the disorderly mane somehow never got in her eyes. The resemblance with Rave was uncanny, especially when she narrowly ducked under the charged attack from the last remaining Lord.

Chemilia focused on her incapacitated target. A flurry of blows continuously increased the internal pressure of the Ironborn, until his chest burst open with a metallic screech. William immediately reacted, raising his blade and ramming it at the exposed heart chamber of the Ironborn, turning the crystallized soul into quartz.

The four of them backed off, William gave them an acknowledging nod, and they were about to depart to continue the battle wherever they were needed when a bright red light caught their attention. A large piece of rock was descending on their general position.

“KNIGHTS OF THE ORDER, TO ME!” William barked in the tone of a seasoned field commander. “STAND BEHIND US!”

On top of the burning rock was a humanoid form. Meteora, as was all but confirmed, who charged at them all in a style that Chemilia would have appreciated, had it not been aimed at them.

The Ironborn cleared the area, while the coalition did as instructed. Everyone close by consolidated behind the knights of the Golden Rose. The three of them put their tall shields together. “For the Lady!” William shouted, raising his gleaming blade.

“”FOR THE LADY!”” the knights echoed. Weaker versions of the golden light rose from them, pulling from William’s blessing to reinforce themselves. The insignia of their order glowed brightly, appearing in front of the shield wall, at the centre of a translucent barrier of radiance.

The meteor blasted the magical barrier to smithereens. Then it blasted back the three knights. William had just enough time to turn the sword and hold the long grip with both hands. The tip touched the ground, as he created a second barrier all by himself. It held for a few seconds, successfully ending the descent of the rock. The fire energy, however, broke through, enveloped the paladin.

Even with part of his face scorched away and his red hair singed black, William Brighton stood tall. “WHERE’S THAT WHITE HAIRED OBSTACLE?!” Meteora screamed.

“Not around, obviously,” another female voice responded.

Chemilia glanced over her shoulder. Because the Ironborn had run outwards, while the coalition forces had gathered, they were now more definitely surrounded than ever before. Ironborn encircled them on all sides. About half their forces were focused in this one spot. Meteora stood atop the chunk of stone she had hurled and, on the opposite side, Reetha stepped forwards. The Queen of the West looked like a naked, lean elf, unfitting among the Ironborn.

While her appearance was unusual, the cruelty in her eyes and voice made it even clearer who she belonged to than the noxious green mist that left her mouth with every word. “Your gambit failed, now it’s my time.”

“Tsk, fine,” Meteora responded.

‘This is very bad,’ Chemilia thought. They were stuck between the one remaining Monarch and an Iron Maiden. Meteora was between them and the entrance, not that it really mattered, fleeing was not an option in any case. Reetha had her back to the walkway that stretched over the massive hole. ‘If we all break out to one side, we may be able to buy some time.’

“I’ll go help Severest, then. Prove your worth, if you want to replace Ell.”

Chemilia blinked. Two pieces of good news in the span of two sentences. Meteora leapt away, to chase after the Monarch that Alice was fighting. An opportunity for breathing room for them. They had also just gotten confirmation that the second Iron Maiden was indeed dead. That in and of itself increased their likelihood of success dramatically. It meant that there were three, not four, individuals that could only be fought by Alice in a one versus one.

“You lot have caused quite a stir,” Reetha spoke up, bits of glowing energy leaving her mouth with every syllable. “It is time you finally know your place.” The Queen inhaled deeply, necrotic energy from all around flowing into her. Her metal teeth snapped shut, and the air was pressed out between them with a hissing sound. Like a valve being opened, noxious green energy spilled out into the encirclement.

Chemilia’s first instinct was to hold her breath, but that made no difference. The moment the rapidly expanding gas reached her, doubt surfaced in her mind. Doubt and a strange sense of acceptance. ‘Isn’t it okay to give up when we are part of a suicide mission?’ she thought. Rapidly she shook her head, trying to fight off this sense of drowsiness.

All around, her allies displayed similar behaviour. A few of them took disheartened steps towards the ring of Ironborn, as if they were about to start the attempt to break out. They stopped and stumbled backwards.

‘It would be futile,’ the thought crystallized. Weaker this time, Chemilia shook her head. She looked to her husband for support. Plain-faced, he looked back. His eyes betrayed weakness. Weakness from deep within. He dropped to his knees. With him, her own hope collapsed and she followed him to the ground.

A chain reaction occurred all around as members of the coalition dropped down, taken by one another’s surrender. Alone, hopeless, and wondering why she had even come in the first place, Chemilia stared at the ground before her. Those that remained standing did not stand tall.

“It would be a waste to just kill you. The Emperor will require resources for his research,” Reetha spoke through her clenched teeth. “Ready yourself to take them captive. It’ll take a bit to break all of them.”

Chemilia felt her will withering away. Even with the plan and their fate as guinea pigs revealed, she could not muster anything more than the energy to take a slow look around. Huffing and puffing, William leaned onto his sword. It was all that separated his trembling knees from the floor. His lips moved slowly, without conviction.

A little further, almost as the centre of them all, was Maximillian. The Habsburg royal seemed completely taken by the Queen’s influence. Was that a tear rolling over his face, perhaps? The gravity elemental was hovering above him like a halo that had lost all light.

‘This is the end… is that fine?’ Chemilia thought.