Escalating Quickly

"Be careful what you wish for, Sam." Ephraim whispered.

Samuel facepalmed.

"Hallelujah."

The ten-feet tall necromorph stormed towards them with lightning speed. Its gigantic hands had swept towards Ephraim and Sam, who had barely averted its attack. Ephraim jumped to the necromorph's arm and slashed his blade toward its shoulder. The necromorph unleashed loud yelped, but then it wasn't alone.

Another necromorph proceeded to attack Samuel and Ephraim as they launched their hands into both of them. The necromorphs hauled their claws to the two, only for it to dig into the ground as they evade their attacks.

"Sam!"

"Yeah, I know!" Samuel dodged the attack of the necromorph by ducking and parrying it large hands with his forearm.

The ground still continued to erupt and shake, with the paths corroding into sand. Some begun to fall into debris as the gears continued to fall. The clock tower was now on the verge of destruction.

Ephraim and Sam were, as odd as it may sound, used to it. From what they have experienced in the lab, this doesn't really measure up to the fear it imposed on the team.

"Whoa!" Samuel exclaimed, seeing the terra crack and break into two. He then knelt and held to the ground as he anticipated the trajectory of the fall. The concrete then leaned to the opposite side of the suspension bridge, and before it fell down, Samuel jumped to the other side, landing beside Hosea who was firing his spells to the necromorphs.

And it was at that time Samuel realized something.

"That staff—" Samuel exclaimed, "you never carried a staff!"

"GHWRAAW!"

A hoard of necromorphs leaped and proceeded to attack the two of them. Samuel, in defense, blocked the necromorph with his forearm and shut his eyes tight. But to his surprise, there wasn't a necromorph that landed before him. Instead, he sees Hosea in front of him, his grimoire floating in front as he held both the ends of his staff to stop the necromorph.

"Hosea . . . !" Samuel exclaimed in utter disbelief. Samuel's electric-blue eyes also saw that of Ephraim, who was now holding the necromorphs back but they weren't able to launch themselves towards him—as if a mysterious shield had blocked the space.

A barrier.

"You're . . ." Samuel couldn't say the words as he sees Hosea's trembling arms trying to hold the Necromorph from breaking to the barrier. More monsters came about the barrier, pounding their claws to the invisible shield; it let out the noise similar to that of a sharp object hitting to a glass.

Samuel's eyes widened as he sees the barrier shattering and being broken into like glass shards falling everywhere.

Ephraim noticed this also. There was no way he can ask Hosea why he was protecting them right now. Even Samuel, one with the sharpest tongue Ephraim had ever known, knew this as a fact and thus sealed his mouth shut for a while. Ephraim continued to slash every necromorph that he could lay his sword upon. The sword he had was given to him by the guardian—not anything special; just a piece of iron lying around the dungeon.

Thankfully, it was sharp enough to slice through the monsters.

But not enough to kill them.

Ephraim gritted his teeth as he sees the wound he had inflicted slowly disappear as a new form of skin repaired the damage.

The ground ruptured once more, making Ephraim stumble to his feet.

"Hosea!"

And as Samuel yelled his voice, the barrier protecting Ephraim crumbled into pieces. The necromorphs did not wait for any recovery nor shock from both of them. Like mindless monsters that they are, the necromorphs advanced and attacked without discretion. Ephraim slashed their chest and dug the blade of the sword to one of the monsters as he leaped through the opposite side of the bridge.

Ephraim slashed the necromorphs impending to attack Samuel and Yael.

"Never knew you're that good with the sword," Samuel says.

Hosea panted as he continuously conjures fireballs to the necromorphs as they attack.

"Hosea, tone it down! You're growing paler!" Samuel exclaimed. Hosea huffed and wheezed—his eyes had dark circles around them now. Ephraim thinned his lips. At this rate, they won't be able to get away. The whole place began to fall into ruin, its debris scattering with the gears falling everywhere.

And when hope seemed lost, an unfamiliar pair of shoes landed into the rupturing ground. Ephraim slowly raised his head to see who it was. A small girl wearing unusual boots.

Did she just . . . land here?

"Well, looks like Plan A. failed," she says, and then, pulling Ephraim by his arm and yanking Samuel closer to her, she looked up ahead to the light.

"Hold Hosea tight," she says.

And before Ephraim could even ask who she was, they leaped into the light with her boots leaving a magical hex below them.

**

It didn't take a while before they landed back to the ground. Ephraim couldn't even rouse a word to say. He was being carried by a petite girl—no, scratch that. A petite girl was carrying three men with her bare arms . . . and a pair of flying shoes.

The ground they landed on wasn't what one could wholly consider as safe. They were atop another building, and necromorphs were still lurking about just below them. Ephraim felt a shiver run down his spine—the necromorphs he sees now were composed of numerous sizes—from gigantic ones with what seemed like a large tumor in their back, to small ones running so swiftly and flexibly.

"Who . . . are you?" Ephraim uttered as the girl dropped them to the roof.

"Funny, you should ask me that." She snorted. "Who are YOU?"

Ephraim blinked several times. "I'm Ephraim—"

"Oh, you're that guy Sam's blabbering about."—a pause, "I'm Arletha. We have no time for introductions. Hosea,"

Arletha walked towards Hosea, who now grew paler, his complexion going blue. Arletha gritted her teeth, "idiot . . . you used up almost all of your mana . . ."

Samuel glanced at the staff Hosea was barely holding on to.

"This is Vashti's, right?" Samuel asked.

Arletha's eyes widened, but then her expression grew softer as she stared at Samuel.

"Sam." She says. "I'm sorry."

Samuel blinked. Although there were a lot of questions bugging him still, he knew there were more pressing issues at hand. Hosea's health, for instance.

"He's a healer, not a fighter, so he got drained up like this," Arletha exclaims. "But now there's nothing we can do to actually help him."

Silence.

"Sam, I'm going to need your help," Arletha said, and then darted her gaze back to Ephraim too. "And . . . you. Even if we just met now."

Ephraim nodded awkwardly.

"I . . . we're going to do plan B." Arletha says. "It's only a matter of time before the necromorphs would come to the roof. And before that we need to strategize Plan B, which is to go to the dungeon's last gate. . . will you help us, Sam?"

It was still unclear for Samuel what the group's motive is, so only bowed his head down as an answer to Arletha's question. How can he simply accept their proposal? Plan B? What does that even mean? Is Plan A dedicated to him? Or emotional abuse?

"S-sam, we just need you to protect Hosea at all cost . . . is that okay?" Arletha said. She then went to Samuel and then she held her hand, entrapping his finger with hers.

"Sam, listen . . . please. I know this is all too sudden for you. And I don't expect you to understand especially when we . . . we said we planned to kill you."

Samuel averted his gaze. What she said was right—they were saying about killing him earlier, and now they want to team up? Samuel was confused, and he could tell Ephraim was too. Things were escalating too quickly at a terrifying speed that Samuel could tell there was a piece of missing information.

Something doesn't fit in the puzzle—or a piece was nowhere to be found.

The truth.

Ephraim could tell as well even with the short time he spent with them. It was one of the things he can pride himself having. The ability to observe. To scrutinize. Raim glances to Samuel who now fell silent, unresponsive to Arletha's request. He couldn't blame him, really. It wasn't Samuel's fault. The group was clearly hiding something from them. And the lack of transparency often leads to unresolved issues and unacceptance. Hence, this one.

"I . . . I'll help." Samuel says finally, making Arletha's eyes lit up. "But—please, please just tell me the truth after this. Tell me why did you have to lie about killing me . . . or was it the truth, after all? Your original plan was to kill me? Did you spare me out of . . . mercy?"

"No, Sam! We—we didn't plan to KILL you. Please, believe us." Arletha exclaimed. "I know this is confusing. A lot to take in. But believe me when I said we had no choice. We had no choice, Sam . . ."

Samuel sighs, and then faces Arletha after a brief silence. "Alright,"—his electric-blue eyes met that of Ephraim, who gave him a nod. "So what do we have to do?"

"The plan is to go to the dungeon's last floor. I know it's too sudden, going to the last floor in the last minute. But that's our only choice to get out of here. If we don't go there, we will die . . . the problem is, we don't know where the last floor is." Arletha exclaims. "So I just want you all to protect Hosea so we could but some time—"

"I know where it is." Ephraim exclaimed, stopping Arletha mid-sentence, and surprising Samuel as equally.

Arletha blinked. "You do?"

"Yes," Ephraim says. "I know where the vessel is."