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Suffering and death would take its toll on the Prontera forces very soon. The fate of Rune-Midgard is placed in their hands now…

"I thank you for your timely help to –"

Tien was briefly interrupted by a clatter of footsteps. Someone was running towards them. The monk turned his head away from the commander of the Alberta blacksmiths. A scout from Prontera spoke nervously as sweat beads slipped over his cheeks endlessly.

"The city of Prontera requests for an alliance with Payon. An army of orcs led by the Lord of Death draws closer to Prontera as of this moment."

It did not take long for this news to register. Tien stared at the ground while his mind churned. Then, Pay laid a hand on his shoulders, jerking him out of his reverie as if something had dawned on him.

"Don't think about it, Tien, you're in need of medical treatment."

"We could bring him there for some. It would be a miracle if we found one among these ruins," a blonde huntress went beside Pay.

The scout was kept waiting for a while. Thinking that they had forgotten about his presence, he wanted to repeat his question. However, he could not help but scan the damages Payon suffered. Straw and hay made up part of the decimated city, stones and collapsed houses filling up the rest. It was almost an hour after dawn, and the orcs did not delay their pace. Under the Lord of Death, they were not anymore the gullible and foolish creatures as it was in people's impression.

"Lord of Death huh," the blacksmith commander started suddenly. "Can't the so-called invincible fortress of Rune-Midgard handle something as such? Oh they have their church too!"

The scout shook his head sadly.

"Not anymore. Previous assaults had crippled Prontera badly, and we have a shortage of militia. The only city willing to aid us is St Caprina."

"Crippled? How bad?" asked Pay.

The scout made a quick estimation, then replied.

"About a couple of hundred we have. That's too little arrayed against the orcs."

'Cerberus had stayed behind since the parting… it's been quite some time since then,' Pay thought.

Tien's body suddenly quivered. More blood flowed out of his mouth, but he could feel something pulsing in his body.

'I drank too much,' he thought.

"This is bad, we need to bring him to Prontera quickly," Pay hurried.

Tien nodded towards Pay reassuringly. Standing up, he faced the scout.

"We'll go… we'll go."

"All of us will," Elemire emphasized. That was partly said to call back the departing blacksmiths, but they just kept going.

"Any blue gemstone to spare?" Tien asked.

"You're not in the condition to even open a portal," Pay said.

"But we can't possibly walk there, right," Elemire countered. True, she made some sense. If they walked, the monk would have a relapse along the way. At least he could receive immediate treatment when he opened a portal.

"I'm sorry, I do not carry one," the scout said as he fumbled in his pockets.

"I was just sending off the injured," a deep voice rumbled, then a blue gemstone flew over to the monk. Tien caught the gemstone, and looked behind him.

"The first and last time. All of us will go," the blacksmith commander said with a grin.

In spite of the mask of blood, the beefy commander noticed the look of gratitude on Tien's face. The monk grasped the gemstone tightly as a shimmering light widened into a portal.

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The hunters and the newly appointed spearmen flustered. Those down at the battleground were expected to be made full use of, and not scattered apart into confusion. Apparently the orcs had devised a way to extent the range of their catapults, for giant boulders ran over the fields and bowled over the army.

Many were lucky enough to escape, but still there few who were crushed to death. The tight formation was dispersed into a disorderly mess. It did not matter how well they could arrange themselves now, for their first priority was to dodge as many boulders as possible. About three to five boulders were released at once, causing damage to the gate and walls, not to mention, several more men. The hunters might as well be sitting ducks, since the orcs were not even in range.

The commanders thought quickly, yet they could come up with nothing sound. The launchers could not be put into use yet, unless the orcs met the army. Two more boulders barrelled across the Prontera forces, killing none fortunately. The army had wisely stepped out of the way after they figured out the launching pattern. Right now, they must devise some means to lure them within the range of Prontera's hunters.

Thankfully, the commanders had already dished out orders to retreat back into the confines of the city. Hunters and spearmen were to lay low, and they were forced to cling tightly onto the walls due to frequent tremors caused by the boulders. They did not have to be told, of course, unless they risked plummeting down to their death. The two warlords were the last to step within the gate, then it slammed shut.

Immediately after the closure of the west gate, a few more boulders crashed against the walls and one struck the gate. All thanks to the new security built by the constructors, the gate barely budged. It was going to take much more than one boulder to force it open. Because of the narrow walkway, the defenders took up new positions and the lines of them ran past even the fountain of Odin in the square. King Tristan, flanked by four of his personal guards, made one last look at the forces before entering the grand church. Several acolytes who were praying passed an irritated glance backwards at the interference, but it was immediately turned into one of deference.

Outside, another horn blared. The king held a hand up to stop the guards, and he strode slowly down the red-carpeted aisle to join the acolytes in their prayer. The four guards stood unmoving at the middle of the aisle, while King Tristan took a seat at the front bench. One acolyte stood before the king, muttering a blessing for him. Suddenly, a cry echoed the church. The four guards drew their swords out as something shimmering glowed brighter, and widened. A blue pillar stood erect as it formed, before three figures materialized. A female acolyte screamed as she saw a blood-covered apparition lying in pain, the four guards almost plunging their swords into it.

The portal disappeared after a hunter and a huntress stepped out. Acting on instinct, the hunter trained his bow on a guard, thinking that the church might be overrun by demons. When the guards found the trio harmless, they backed off. Although trained in the arts of healing, the acolytes looked away from the blood soaked man in revulse. King Tristan approached what appeared to be a monk, the guards warned him to stay away.

"For god's sake he can't do a damn thing now. He's out from a heavy loss of blood," the hunter, named Pay, told the guards. But that did little to convince them, for their swords were still brandished.

Elemire pleaded with a few acolytes to treat the bloodied monk immediately, even exaggerating his condition by introducing death. King Tristan motioned for the acolytes to come.

"Since this man came here, he may be of help in the battle. Acolytes! Give this monk proper treatment immediately!"

The acolytes obliged upon the king's command, trying their best to hide their disgust from the mask of blood. They were obviously novice acolytes judging by their behaviour. But, the king's order could not be defied. Kneeling around the monk, they chanted the basic incantation to healing spells. Sweat poured down from Tien's forehead as soothing green energies coursed through his body. Pay and Elemire looked at the operation with intensity and hope.

Too much blood had been lost, and the acolytes' efforts may yet be sufficient. For all they knew, he needed treatment from priests, the more experienced and skilful versions of acolytes. In such a time, the defenders could not even spare a priest, let alone for the sake of an insignificant monk.

As inexperienced as they were, the two archers hoped for the best. Things began to look pessimistic when an acolyte fell backwards as she fainted from the sapping of her energy, leaving the rest to double their efforts which would soon exhaust them. Tien groaned as his hands twitched, a sign that consciousness was returning to him. Elemire encouraged the acolytes to persevere, that only causing one to lose his concentration. The healing energy dwindled dramatically when more fell with fatigue, but the monk had yet to regain full conscious.

"If only we brought the kit…" Pay said with a deep frown.

Elemire laid a hand on his shoulder, and kept her look fixed on the moaning monk.

"There ain't any herbs left anyway. Awakenings won't do much except to worsen it."

King Tristan glanced disappointingly at the group of acolytes.

"Well?"

"They looked like they had expended all of their powers," one guard pointed out.

"The girl's one example," another added.

Shaking his head, King Tristan walked over to his personal body guards made up of two knights and two crusaders. Another cry startled everyone, this one at a much louder volume. Tien bolted upright, but he did not look fully recovered. His two companions looked worriedly at him, then ran over to help him up to a bench.

"I was about to order your burial, but your strong will proved me wrong," King Tristan remarked.

Tien held a dazed look, not at all hearing what others in the church said. Pay shook him, but the monk kept the same expression. Jerking his head around suddenly, Tien scanned the church, from the floor to the ceiling.

"What? What are you looking for?" asked Elemire.

Perhaps for once, no blood spilled out of Tien's mouth as he spoke.

"I thought… I thought they were coming… the blacksmiths."

A look of realization filled the huntress's face.

"The portal could not admit a whole army! But they would do what they are supposed to do. They will come as promised."

Tien nodded his head in understanding. He then asked for water to clean his face.