My breath coalesced in the air like rain, Logic-blue, framed in fire red and singularity black.

  Then, softly first, then rapidly crescendoing like a swarm of doves taking flight, the sound of countless bells flooded the plaza.

  With the carillon of bells still in full swing, blasting their melodies into every corner of the burning ruins around us and driving the Ferals into an agonized frenzy, lines upon lines of commands and code drilled into my head.

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

  My ears were ringing, either from the cacophony of bells and screams and explosions, or from the massive headache that felt like it threatened to pop my eyes out of my skull, and by the time I had gathered my wits, the tide on top of the ridge had turned.

  Enraged by my use of Logic, the Ferals disregarded Zephyro and the elf and came pouring down the crater. They were a menagerie of malformed horrors, ranging from the now familiar spiders with metal legs, to wolves (cancerous, putrid), coyotes (gaseous, coughing, heckling), buzzards (dead and rotting and trailing dark fire). There even were some more mythical creatures such as living whirlwinds made of debris, swirling around a cluster of metal fans welded together by a madman.

  Their numbers grew by the second, as did the breadth of their mass seeping down from the rim. One second, they were coming from one quarter of the circle around the crater, the next it was almost half.

  Luckily, Zephyro and Shellslinger had noticed, and were making a fighting retreat to my position. But with the amount of Ferals swarming them, there was no way they’d make it in time.

  Luckily, I was not alone.

  A backfire of my anger slithered through my veins, and my jaw set. I had made my choice. The plan was set. Now there was nothing else than to execute.

  I selected as many clients as I could.

  In the blink of an eye, the entire crater was bathed in cyan glow, and my CPU readout spiked.

  As I fell to my knees, shaking with sudden exhaustion, I saw bright blue lines falling like rain in slow motion, the wonder of their descent devouring all sound.

  Then they hit the ground as one, and the world shook.

  Dozens of portals sprung into existence. They took all sorts of shapes, from simple circles on the ground to doors made of starlight, and each of them let forth one of the Old Guard, their expression as varied as their way of arrival. Grim and grinning and glum and glad, it felt as though every emotion humanly possible showed on their faces as they took a split second to survey the battlefield, then immediately sprung into action.

  I had to get up, had to get more Logic, had to advance my CPU. Otherwise, I’d be dead in the water. But my body betrayed me, every muscle screaming for energy that I just couldn’t muster. I wavered on my knees, upper body tilting to one side.

  Then, just as I was about to fall, someone punched me on the shoulder and knocked me back straight.

  “Ow!” I said, glaring up at the woman who stared right back, unfazed. Then my body glowed, my exhaustion vanished, and my DPM shot back to full.

  Before I could say another word, the woman grinned, grew wings, and shot into the sky, diving down into the fray wherever she was needed next, punching and kicking friend and foe alike.

  I got to my feet a little too quickly, and a wave of lightheaded fatigue rushed over me, vision going black for a moment. Compared to just a second before, I was practically brimming with energy, but my exhaustion was still there. It just felt lesser, somehow.

  The only thing I could compare it to was when Zephyro had summoned his moon, and all my actions had felt lighter. This was more localized, however. As if that punch the lady had given me activated some reserve I hadn’t known I had.

  I took one step, then another. It was tough going, but at least I could move. Grimacing, I made my way over to where the fighting was the hardest, following an instinct I had honed even before I had arrived on Tobes, then refined in a decade of war.

  Always gotta be the hero, Sam. Why don’t you let people win on their own every once in a while?

  I shook my head. Not another memory. Not now. I needed the Logic, needed… thinking was so hard. I was so damn hot.

  I panted with every step. Whatever the woman had done, it was fading, and fast. I was so close, though. I could see the Logic tumble out of cracked-open metal, pour from bloated corpses, and evaporate from gelled gasses.

  As Shellslinger had said, the Old Guard took their cut, absorbing massive swathes of Logic every time they killed something, but always, something remained. Not just my cut. The Old Guard had formed a circle around me the center around the crater, and me, and it was obvious that they had the same limitations as I had when it came to absorbing the stuff.

  Namely, range and strength of pull. I tried to command even a trickle to come to me, but with the legion of Ferals around us, I didn’t have a chance. The same apparently went for the Old Guard, who absorbed everything they could but still left a large quantity to be recycled by the ravenous Feral swarm.

  So I pushed forward, one tired foot in front of the other. Felt like someone was pouring lead into my boots, second by second. I was about halfway there…

  I stumbled and fell.

  Strong arms caught me. I smelled oil and spices and felt chainmail against my cheek.

  “I must offer you two thousand thousand apologies, Sultana. First, for touching you without your permission, which is a crime most grave, and then for not coming to your aid sooner.”

  I squirmed, uncomfortable at the touch. “S’fine.” I said. He nodded, made sure I had regained my balance, and let me go.

  “Let us retreat to the Palace, then, Sultana?” Zephyro asked, but I shook my head.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” I asked ,voice strained from exhaustion and intensity. “I won’t hide behind some walls while other people fight my fights, Zephyro.” It sounded less brash than I had feared, but still, the words were sharp enough to cut deep, and he winced. Just that tiny motion, the twitch of his shoulders and curl of his lips stabbed shame deep into my heart.

  Zephyro didn’t deserve that. He was better than this. Better than me.

  I squirmed, mind racing as I tried to recover. “Would you abandon your people like that, if you were me?”

  To his credit, he paused, then shook his head. “No, Sultana.”

  I didn’t say, ‘That’s because you are the leader I want to be.’

  I didn’t apologize, or even say sorry.

  I didn’t know why.

  I only knew that I would not be weak again.

  So instead, I said: “Then come on. That Logic is mine.”

  The first story I may or may not have read and "drawn inspiration from" is Rhaegar's

  Azarinth Healer

  :D