The Collapse

Chapter 29: Rift

Alder awoke with a haze still clouding his thoughts, like a bale of cotton smothering him from the inside. The first thing he noticed about himself was the way his body felt. . . vulnerable, the way a deer with a broken leg would feel. He glanced down at his bare chest, and saw a new set of scars engraved in the flesh, still pink and newly healed. Wonderful.

Taking stock of his surroundings once confirming he was indeed still alive, Alder pushed himself off the ground from where he had fallen after slaying Talon. He looked up at the great red rift in the sky, remaining even after its master had fallen. An evil energy flowed from the hole, chilling Alder to the bones despite his numbed mind. As he watched, the portal -- was that what it was? It had to be, nothing else sounded right -- seemed to shrink, then ripped the sky further apart with a sound like broadcasting thunder. Then before Alder's eyes, things began pouring from the portal, seemingly aimless, before they rallied together and charged towards the young warrior.

Thinking fast despite the panic welling up inside him, Alder swept the area for anything he could use as a weapon -- even a sturdy branch would suffice. His eyes fell on Talon's axe, and Alder shivered. He dreaded the thought of using that blade, but it was either that or try to fend these things off with his fists. Neither were appealing, but he wasn't going down without a fight, and the axe seemed like a better bet to take more of those beasts with him to hell.

The weapon felt as if it were made of lead to Alder's exhausted body, yet he still hefted it and swung at the first demon to come his way. The head of the axe contacted, but did not tear into the monster's flesh as Alder expected. Instead, the blade shattered like glass, and with his momentum still behind him, he was powerless to watch as the shaft bent and snapped in half, leaving him with nothing but a stump of wood.

Alder swore and tossed the haft away, bringing his fists to bear. He swung a mighty right hook, knocking the demon back into his brethren. Alder kept his assault up, pushing into the horde like a ship through waves. However, he could only fight for so long, despite his level of strength.

Fatigue burning in his arms like lit gasohol, Alder felt his arms falling. An airborne monster struck him across the face with a trio of long claws, flitting away before he could retaliate. Alder knew this was where he would more than likely fall, his soul — if he even had one anyway — claimed by these fiends.

Then, before the warrior could go down, a sound like thunder shook the ground. Mutated beasts were ripped apart by cannon and laser fire, and a tunnel of light -- of hope -- shined through the horde. A second wind possessed Alder's limbs, and he fought even harder to meet with his rescuers. The attacker's fire grew to an almost deafening cacophony, then suddenly ceased as rapidly as it had begun. The demons were fleeing like dogs that had been kicked in the rear, hooting and yowling as they crawled up buildings and disappeared into the murky fog that was beginning do descend over the city.