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Story so Far:

• The Whales battle a Lifebane Titan
• The mice intercept giant insects known as "crystoliths" trying to capitalize on the distraction. Seeing their numbers, the mice get straight to business and engage in chemical and guerrilla warfare,

___

“Ninety-Six, Twelve, Eight.” the little imp in the background hissed, as if taunting Aymon of his stolen memories.

“Silence imp!” Aymon cried “Stop speaking in numbers!”

“It’s helping us, Aymon.” Gwen said “And the longer you take to remember, the bigger the price we must pay to the imp.”

"What about Shihno?" Philia probed, Gwen rolled her eyes. “The Scroll was in Shihno! I gave it to you! What happened?”

"Your grace... I don't think he even remembers properly!" Gwen mock-protested.

"But we did!" The elf protested."You were there! Her grace was there! We..." he paused to clutch his head. "We were to assassinate the nobles of Freid and pin it to Veles. That was your..."

“Twenty-two, Forty-Two, Six-Hundred Fifty-Seven.” The imp growled in the background.

"No more of this weird kobold medicine. Gwen." Philia said with surprising calmness. "Whatever they did to him to Freid, ensured he can no longer tell us about the Scroll of Temblor..."

"No! I do remember! I can...!" Aymon said, standing up. He felt a hand grab his from behind.

He almost stumbled as he realized he was looking down a cliff somewhere in the Eastern Elion-Nosco badlands. Somehow he was standing.

"Aymon! What's gotten into you?" Philia shouted in surprise. “You can’t read the Scroll of Temblor if you’re dead!”

"Y-your grace! Pardon me!" Aymon apologized, quickly backing away.

He looked around, unsure of his surroundings. Why was he here again?

"You passed out." Gwen said "You did it, you launched the Satellites into the air!"

Satellites! Oh right! That's what Philia called those artifacts that would destroy Elion-Nosco. He used his telekinesis to send the whole accursed lot high into the air, the ordeal had knocked him out.

I should have been lying down then, he thought to himself. Why was I walking around?

Philia and Gwen huddled together, looking at a gray tile, it was rather large, like the ones one would see on a patio, they were looking at it like one would read a book.

"There we go! Houston, we've entered orbit!" Philia cried happily, jumping up and down and giddy like the young girl she was.

"One small step for Terragalia, One giant step for me! ME!!!!" Philia laughed, continuing to hop around happily. "Who won the space race? Me! Nyahahahaha!"

Aymon staggered over to see the side of the tile that Gwen was looking at, maybe it had some kind of strange riddle carved into it, or some enigmatic carving.

It took him several seconds to realize he was looking at a vantage point from high above the sky, the vantage point continued to climb and climb. He saw the red and tan soil of the badlands, steadily falling away to reveal vast expanses of green wilderness, blue rivers and grey cities, he saw the land continue to shrink until the ocean surrounded everything.

And then the ocean gave away and the world curved around, revealing a sphere that floated listlessly in a vast abyss.

Gwen's legs buckled at the sight of the world shrinking beneath them, the elf and the ciltran sat down to prevent themselves from falling over but their limbs were shaking.

"This... this...is the world?" Gwen said in disbelief and fright.

Philia continued to laugh and skip around, not bothering to look. "It sure is, Gwen!"

Aymon looked up at Philia with dread. "Wh-what are you?"

Philia stopped her childish celebration and looked at Gwen curiously. "What's wrong with Aymon?"

Gwen composed herself. "I think the drugs are starting to wear off. A lot quicker than I expected but that's the thing with elves."

"Oh, right." Philia, relaxing visibly. "I'm guessing it's going to take a while to remember everything... I'm Philia Elion-Nosco."

"I remember that!" Aymon said, gritting his teeth as his head started pounding with pain. "I'm your assistant, assigned to protect you! What drugs are you talking...unghhh..."

"Do you remember that thing I once said about me being reborn from another realm?" Philia said, calmly pacing around with her hands behind her back.

Aymon laughed as he rubbed his head. "Yes..." despite the headaches he found it funny that despite acting very mature for someone very young, Philia still had childish fantasies.

"Humor me on this," Philia said as she continued to pace in circles "Back in my old world, we’ve sent beyond the sky observers like those satellites, so we know what our world looks like from the outside. As a matter of fact, it’s common knowledge. Children younger than me know of it as fact. Also, we’ve long sent people to the moon, and we have probed even more distant planets beyond that dark abyss.”

The two listened to her in silence. Her tone didn’t look like she was lying.

“We call it outer space…and it’s not a pleasant realm to be in. It’s so cold, no air to breathe, and without the air this planet shields itself with… why the very rays of the sun would mutilate your body, like a mortal standing before the presence of a God.”

Philia lightly kicked away a rock that was in her path and continued pacing in circles with a playful childish gait.

“Now here’s something more pertinent, we had something called MK-Ultra, it was a method where they would rewrite someone's memories and even their personality, it had a lot of possible uses... for example, it allowed you to assist me in my little projects while keeping the whole thing secret from Raldia... even though you had to regularly report to him personally."

Aymon sat up straight. How did she know?

"Because you told me." Philia said, as if divining his thoughts. "To be honest, I originally planned to make you just tell Raldia one inane report after another. But..." Philia tapped her temple "You were also quite a brilliant mage... most people were under the impression I wanted to learn as much magic and become a wizard, but in reality, my interest in the matter wasn't that deep."

Philia paused to let the words sink in, brainwashing? Philia seems to imply that she had put him under some spell that had been tampering with his mind. If his mind was being tampered with some foul magic, then surely Raldia would have known. He goes to visit him regularly of course, as matter of fact. Even if the Old Palace was pitch black, all he needed to do was climb the Rose staircase three stories up, take the west wing and turn right on the third corridor five rooms down…

…into Philia’s bedroom.

The King’s chamber, or that of anyone important wasn’t in the Old Palace.

Eyes wide with panic, Aymon looked back up at Philia.

"I decided to put your skills as a wizard to better use. Today, you've launched my Satellites into orbit, now free of most of this world's gravity, they will ceaselessly patrol the heavens above."

Aymon felt something wrong with that statement.

"Patrol for what?"

"A bird's eye in the sky." Philia explained. "One of them's a spy satellite, so now I have a vast unblinking eye surveying all that is in this world, the others? Well, to simplify it... after I bring a few more things into this world, I can communicate with others no matter where they are. All thanks to you."

Aymon blinked, these artifacts she was talking about seemed too good to be true. She said she had tampered with his mind, was she planning to monopolize the power of these artifacts for herself?

Aymon, you fool! He chastised himself. What have you done? Why did you let Philia-

“Just a little more, work with me!” Philia said as they both channeled their mana. He and Philia unleashed a torrent of their mana into the portal. Aymon once again nearly lost his balance, but righted himself as he continued to channel his mana into the spell.

“Come on, Aymon!” Philia yelled, “The Scroll of Temblor is in one of them!”

The elf shook his head and yelled, he didn't know what was occupying his thoughts earlier. The portal was opening, the “Satellites” that Philia warned him about were now visible from the dark chamber of some unknown banal temple.

Slowly, with his telekinesis he carefully lifted all twenty of these horrible artifacts, out of their sanctuary and into the sunlight, out here in the badlands.

Even if they failed, Philia told him, Elion-Nosco will have plenty of time to prepare and stem the damage.

Suddenly, the whole chamber was flushed in a crimson light and a piercing shriek from some unknown creature echoed within.

“They’re trying to unleash the fiends in them!” Philia shouted, “We must take them out into the sunlight where they can’t harm anyone!”

The portal collapsed on itself with a loud crack of lightning, the impact shoving them backwards.

The elf, panting, quickly got up and helped Philia to her feet. The little princess casually dusted herself, ignoring the now dead men she had used to brunt the massive cost of summoning the satellites.

Their faces looked familiar, but Aymon’s sudden onset of a headache occupied his thoughts. Were these men bandits? When did he subdue them? Why did they have the royal livery of Elion-No-

“[Yeah, Baby!]” Philia exclaimed in an unknown language; though his interpretation spell translated it without issue, the princess raised her fists as she observed the huge metal objects in front of her. Basking in the sunlight, he could now see these “Satellites” clearly. They were a jumble of odd shapes, like odd decorative trinkets artisans would do to show off their ability to cut, mold, and weld metals back together. Some even had decorative frescoes over it, with Philia ogling the image of a human. There was an almost religious reverence as she suddenly knelt and prostrated herself before the image.

“[Woohoo! Alright, let’s take these babies into orbit!]” Philia said excitedly, padding over to their luggage and taking out rejuvenation potions. “Drink, Aymon! We got a job to do!”

The elf snapped himself out of his reverie. In horror he realized that he had pulled those accursed artifacts from Philia’s old world. He glanced at the bound, dead bodies that were sacrificed to enact her vile ambitions.

"What about Freid?" Aymon cried in panic. "Why did we waste time over some useless artifacts!? We need to stop..."

"We stopped them, Aymon." Philia replied, grinning. "We massacred a gathering of nobles, poisoned the air of the city and pinned the blame to Veles."

"That was three years ago!" Aymon protested "We were there with Cro-NNNGH!" he paused as he was racked with headaches again. He could hear the screams of the citizens as the vile mist mercilessly poisoned their bodies with no hope for a cure, he felt the heat of the flames that were spreading everywhere.

The voice of the imp was in his ear, taunting him with his vile incantations

“Eight, Sixty-Nine, Seven Hundred Seventy Four…”

A firm arm hooked around his, he was lying on cold hard cobblestone. His ribs still aching as he fumbled his roll in order to avoid a fireball.

"[C'mon! Get up! Get up!**]" Crotad roared through his gas mask as he pulled up Aymon. The elf shook his head. The dark streets of Shihno was lit up with rampant fires and green poison mist suffused and reflected the light everywhere. The orc quickly picked him up and threw him into the wagon.

"[Hold on tight!]" yelled the wagon driver. The two steeds reared up defiantly and shot across the streets of Shihno.

Gwen peeked out and quickly darted back in.

"[They've closed the ga-]" she shrieked in panic as another explosion rocked the city. The wagon lurched and bumped along but continued to run, past the blown-up gates and taking them out of Shihno.

...

Philia halted the wagon some distance away, content that the darkness would shield them from view.

"What are we waiting for?" Crotad asked. "Shouldn't we head back to Elion-Nosc-"

Gwen yelled in fright as Philia shot the orc in the head.

"We need to make a message." Philia said flatly. Together, she and the sorian driver dragged the orc's body onto the grass and took off all his gear. Philia reached into her bag and dropped a Velesian badge near the man.

"The patrols will be coming to this area soon. When they find Cory's body, Freid will knock on Veles' door with swords." Philia explained, motioning for everyone to hop back into the wagon.

"W-why!?" Aymon demanded, suddenly finding himself back atop the bluffs in Eastern Elion-Nosco. "Why'd you kill Cro-I mean Cory?"

"Oh you do remember now, even his actual name." Philia remarked, looking pretty impressed. "He was a Velesian spy of course. He thought he could deceive us, well, you guys did, not me."

"You don't know that!" Aymon said. He tried to get up but his head was aching. "Are... are you going to kill me too?"

"No." Philia shrugged her shoulders. "Unless you're a Velesian spy, last I checked, the only one you're spying on is me under Raldia's orders. Unless you have other masters you’re whispering secrets to…"

"I'm... I'm of Elion-Nosco!" Aymon snapped. "If we've already stopped Freid... then why are we here?"

"To launch the satellites." Philia said.

"How are we here?" Aymon asked, "We should be in the capital while war is still going on!"

"King Raldia has yet to learn of our successful mission." Philia told him. "Also I needed to hunt down the last of his spies who were sent to assassinate me in case our mission failed. I manipulated you to use your magic to track them down. It's been about two days since we attacked Shihno."

Aymon felt his stomach twist into a knot.

"What else..." he began "What else have you made me do?"

Philia furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm only ten, Aymon! Not enough years for us to go on adventures worth a hundred episodes! MK Ultra takes time to work, and I just needed you to get those satellites up without you asking too many questions."

There was an awkward pause, that can't be right. He could remember... things. Just like that memory where he... Something felt wrong. It should be something he could recall, he had just pulled it out of the shelves of his mind but now in his mind's eye his hand grasped nothing.

He tried to recall the recent thing they were talking about, the... what was it again? He and Philia were dancing in a ballroom of course! In Veles!

Philia looked at Gwen as Aymon stared blankly.

"What's going on, Miss Philia?" the maid asked worriedly. “He hasn’t said anything besides asking you what else he has done.”

"Withdrawal symptoms." The little girl said flatly, straightening up as she got some water boiling. "His brain is all fried. Welp, time to put him out of his misery." With that, Philia pulled her pistol and shot the elf clean between the eyes.

Gwen watched as the little girl coldly executed someone she had known for years. Her stomach turned, she had to look away.

"Fortunately, since we just did something extremely difficult and foolhardy, Aymon's death won't be met with suspicion. As a matter of fact..." Philia laughed, twirling the pistol with her index finger "...let's just say old pointy-ears used himself as a shield to protect me, sounds like a good idea, what do you think Gwen?"

The maid nervously nodded, her hands shaking. "M-maybe we shouldn't do this Emm-Kay Ultra anymore... i-it sounds like it's too dangerous."

"Yup." Philia said, effortlessly holstering her pistol without looking, "I can't remember how many times I have to remind myself to say the magic words to help stir his mind back on track. I need something easier and less random, I mean..." the girl wiggled her arms around to indicate a jumble, "...what was I thinking using 'Scroll of Temblor' as his magic word? I mean if people overhear it, it just begs to be asked all sorts of awkward questions. I need something easier to work with, you know? Something you can say casually and people will just outright dismiss it."

"Are you...going to kill me one day too? Miss Philia?" the maid sniffled.

Philia quickly padded over and gave her maid a hug.

"I'll protect you."

___

The Present Day:

"Okay so if I understand correctly..." Zefir paused "...Philia drugged and did some MK Ultra on this guy Aymon, and because he's such a good wizard, she decided to use him to launch some satellites."

"Precisely." Gwen nodded "We were at war with Freid at the time, so Philia took the opportunity to stop the invasion by pinning the blame on Veles. “

Gwen paused to help herself to her cup of coffee “The idea was that Veles was using this incoming invasion to steal back some disputed artifacts. Freid held them and according to their history, it was gifted to them, not Veles, who incidentally believes it to be the other way around.”

“So in other words, they would buy Elion-Nosco’s excuse that they had nothing to do with that attack, and Veles had a motive and opportunity to strike unexpectedly.”

“Exactly, Miss Philia wasn’t given an army to march down to the border with Freid. So the Freidians had no reason to blame the Elion-Noscoites since there wasn’t an army camping outside of their country. It was just a small group. Aymon was trained in firearms and tactics of your world through the MK Ultra program, as well as to forget them when needed. I'm not sure of exactly how it worked but to put it succinctly, Aymon was becoming more and more unstable, in the end, even if she spared his life then, he would have just simply snapped one day."

"Still..." Zefir remarked, scowling "To think that just four of you managed to sneak into a city and gun everyone down. Why the dramatics? Why not just detonate the bombs from a distance? According to the story, all one needed to pin the blame on this country was to leave Cory with a Velesian badge."

Gwen's eyes widened as if a lightbulb went off in her head. "Oh right, I only gave you the plausible memory that Aymond had. You see..."

____

Shihno City, Freid, Several Years Ago:

"You with me still, Pointy-Ears?" Philia asked, lightly pushing Aymond who was having an episode of his mind blanking out.

"Y-yes your grace!" The elf said, steadying himself against one of the pole racks that stood in this vast cloakroom, like army of attentive valets.

Philia smiled, patting his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, we will find that Scroll of Temblor before morning."

"Heh, about time we do." Cory said, stuffing the Velesian relics in his bag. "You sure you want me to hold on to this?"

Philia held up her hands and shrugged her shoulders. "Unless we have someone who can item box, you're the only one who can carry it."

"They're waking up, King Fish!" Gwen said, pointing her gun at the stirring butlers.

"Maid One, no." Philia said, pulling a knife from belt. "Guns are too loud. Help us out, Allen." she added, referring to Cory's codename during this operation.

"With pleasure, boss. Pointy-Ears, watch the door." Cory said, drawing his knife.

As the butlers lay bleeding out, the squad quickly changed into their black hazmat suits. There was a collective chuckle as Gwen remarked everyone now looked like ant-eaters. Philia took from one bag a huge amount of thermite, rigged to a bomb that would explode in a few minutes.

"Once I press this switch, it's time to strike." Philia warned. "Check weapons."

Quickly and efficiently the three of them checked their guns were in working order.

"Let's go then." Philia said, activating the timer for the bomb.

The four of them swiftly moved along the dimly-lit corridors of the mansion, the muffled sounds from the party concealed their footsteps on the plush carpet, blending seamlessly with the typical cacophony of a large assembly.

Gwen pressed her ear to the double doors that led to the ballroom.

"Are you sure we have to shoot our way out of here, King Fish?" Gwen asked. "Won't it be much better if we just let the bomb and nerve gas do the killing?"

"No, they need to see us." Philia said, tightening her gas mask. "Otherwise, this will be mistaken for a cone hat party trick gone wrong. This is [Terrorism], it needs a face."

"Terrorism?" The rest echoed, parroting as best as they can the word Philia said in English.

Philia walked to the door, ignoring their confusion, she checked that a round was in the chamber of her gun.

"Ready?" Cory said excitedly.

“Ready.” Gwen exclaimed quietly.

“Ready.” Aymon nodded.

"S'nami Bog..." Philia said cryptically, turning to her team. "[Remember, No Noscoan…]"

Cory kicked the doors open, and together they opened fire on the unsuspecting guests.

…

"What are we waiting for?" Cory asked. "Shouldn't we head back to Elion-No-"

Gwen yelled in fright as Philia shot the orc. Arcs of lightning from her gun caused him to seize up and collapse to the ground.

"We need to make a message." Philia said flatly, reeling in the taser. Together, she and the sorian driver dragged the orc onto the grass.

“Almost a shame we can’t take those relics, boss.” The Sorian driver said as they laid the orc on the ground.

“They’re worth more in enemy hands than ours.” Philia explained as they removed all the modern equipment off of Cory. “To this day there would be many nobles in Veles who would pay good money to have those returned to their country.”

The sorian grinned, his chuckle like an alligator’s bellow as his scales flashed the color of amusement. “That’s quite a lot of people to implicate.”

“A lot…” Philia replied. She pulled the knapsack that contained the relics, opened it slightly so they were visible, then clenched the orc’s fingers around the pack straps. The orc’s fingers flexed lightly in response.

“He’s dead.” Philia lied, quickly taking out smelling salts and waving them over Cory’s nose. “He was Velesian, and he thought he could deceive us, now, Freid will knock on Veles’ door, with swords.”

As they finished throwing in the last of Cory’s equipment, Philia noticed that Aymond had gone pale again.

“What’s wrong with the elf?” The driver asked.

Philia quickly jumped back inside. “I think some of the poison gas got to him,”she lied. “He’ll make it.”

___

Autumnhollow, Present Day:

Zefir sat back on his chair, the Whales were still napping quietly.

"It's a little hard to believe we've got Philia working with people from kingdoms her family was at war with."

"It's too late to worry about that now..." Gwen sighed "She's announced her identity ever since we joined Ingrid. Kinu and Kvaris don't bear any enmity with her because Amaduscia by that time had long retired, also, Freid's conflict with Elion-Nosco was diverted towards Veles which to this day is widely believed to have been done by overzealous actors."

"Third parties, got it." Zefir said.

"As you say." Gwen continued "If it's of any relief, that act of Miss Philia's saved more lives because Veles was willing to deal and make compromises, and thus smooth out misunderstandings. By that time, sufficient forces had built up on the border that coming into a full-blown conflict was deemed ill-advised. An armistice was signed and since then, Elion-Nosco has been mired with the same territories with no new conquests for years."

Zefir sighed "I hope the Enthana girls don't think too badly of her."

Gwen's expression was troubled as well "I hope so too as well."

___

Elion-Nosco Palace, Several Years Ago, Days after:

Gwen waited nervously outside the council chamber as Philia gave her debriefing to the King and his ministers. As she sat on a divan and looked out the window, she could hear past the chirping of birds bits and pieces of Philia’s report.

“Yes, Shihno’s burned to the ground. My mercenaries took care of that, the war with Freid and the opportunity to sneak in and take their holy relics was an opportunity they could not afford to miss…”

“Unfortunately, yes. Aymon and Cory were Velesian spies all along, fortunately Freid did us a favor by eliminating them, so we don’t have to worry about angering Veles, since we didn’t execute them ourselves. I believe the Velesian throne will be satisfied using their deaths as a pretext for further conflict with them.”

“The invasion’s finished, we don’t need to send as many people to the southern border since Freid will be busy focusing on their other neighbor.”

“Yes, you could say that Veles is now relying on us to keep Freid restricted to just posturing and making threats. They can’t fight two enemies at once. Now, Veles will owe us a favor.”

“Yes, Lord Father, of course, I’ll keep the maesters informed.”

___

Velesian Palace, a few hours later:

The King of Veles sighed and stretched after finishing the day’s work at his desk. Letters were signed and agreements sealed. Replies were made, people bowed and scraped as they were introduced to his room to favors and petitions while ministers came to give news both good and bad, and sometimes causing the king to call over an aide to take back something he had written.

Today was a less frantic day, and he was looking forward to a few days of putting his royal status to good use by enjoying himself in the countryside. One more letter came up for the king to read, and this was delivered to him personally by the Prime Minister himself.

The King sighed but decided to take a few minutes to read, it was rather short, only one page. The Prime Minister was quiet as he handed the letter over, letting him know that whatever questions that would arise after reading were either too obvious or had no answers forthcoming.

Cory’s accomplished his mission, the Sigil of the Dove and Icon of Saint Erythren should be on their way back to Velesian soil.

With these holy relics restored, the Order of The Holy Fire and the Wings of Light will see a revival in Veles, these churches will now owe your kingdom debt they can never repay.

The ones that have been restored to Freid are fake, there will be quite an uproar in the days to come once the spell wears off.

That said, these two are only half of the relics that once graced Veles. The other half are probably still somewhere in Freid.

Shihno has been severely devastated, the severity of the attack, the ineffectual attempt to halt it, and the attribution to Veles means we will minimize deaths because not only out of fear of the power of the attack, but they know your kingdom always has an ear for Reason.

It’ll be difficult, but I’m sure you can convince them that your throne had nothing to do with this attack, and was probably motivated by miscreants here in Elion-Nosco.

Incidentally, I’ve also taken the liberty of pilfering from Shihno something interesting, it’s a revolutionary advancement that I think all kingdoms regardless of outlook would benefit from. We have “Pointy-Ears” to thank for that, he helped uncover the secret to Freid’s once-exclusive magic.

As for me, Elion-Nosco thinks I had Velesian-speaking mercenaries carry out the assault, financed by a few hard-liners in your kingdom.

They still haven’t figured out that I’ve been undermining their attempts to gain new territories.

The Elion-Nosco war with Freid will bogged down soon, and the war-hawks promoting this idea will be finished. It also seems those in power are promoting me to a higher position. I expect in the coming years we’ll have better opportunities working together to keep the peace.

The enemy of your enemy,

King Fish

___

Read Starchaser: Beyond ~ Autumnhollow Chronicles at RoyalRoad!

INDEX: The Whales Party Sheet 

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Synopsis:

A brave hero and a Saint of the Immortal Flames join forces to face the most powerful being in the universe, the Celestial Emperor. However, all they manage to do is separate a piece of his divine artifact, the book Tales of the Creation of Heavens and Earth.

Unexpectedly, Tristan, a kid who has been locked up in a dungeon for two years by his stepmother, ends up receiving a fragment of this book. He realizes that this alone is not enough to change his situation. Nevertheless, it rekindles the flame in his heart and motivates him to stay alive to seek revenge and find out what happened to his mother.

And perhaps, thus began his ascension in this hellish world.

What to Expect:

[+] Weak to Strong (It doesn't take long for him to stop being weak)

[+] Slow burn progression (We will see the MC rise a level with each volume until he reaches the peak of cultivation)

[+] Big world and many regions to explore with different cultures (Mix of Eastern and Western Fantasy)

[+] Creative and diverse magic and power systems with some RPG elements (Alchemy, forge, runes, golemancy and necromancy)

[+] A grand and long journey with challenges from the Mortal Realm to the Realm of Divine Beings

[+] Cosmic Horror and Divine Mystery

Chapter 78: Vado Seed - Part II

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'Damn it.' There was no room for doubt; he was certain the snake had managed to bite Zahira. Many thoughts raced through his mind, from wondering if the snake would let him escape while feasting on her body to a faint pang of pity for his traveling companion, who would die without ever truly knowing this world.

The turmoil in his thoughts didn't last long—it was obvious what he should do. Alone, there was no chance of victory in this battle; it was simply impossible.

All that remained for him was to turn and flee, relying on luck to survive.

As he turned his back on the grotesque scene and prepared to run, he heard a familiar voice. "Hey, Dusk... I think I'm going to need... a little help here."

Surprised, he turned to the source of the voice.

Tristan saw Zahira, blood pouring from her mouth like water from a tipped jug. Yet what truly caught his attention was her expression—it wasn't what he expected from someone on the brink of a cruel death. She seemed unnervingly calm about the situation.

Using her strength, she tried to break free, but the snake's jaw appeared locked in place.

'Damn it!' He fought the urge to slap his own forehead.

'I completely forgot she was a Green cultivator.' Now that his emotions had settled, he remembered that users of this element possessed vitality rivaling that of Light cultivators—some even claimed it surpassed them, as noted by wise scholars of magic in the books he read at the sect. There were many accounts of them surviving even after losing limbs.

'However...' Tristan also recalled that Green cultivators didn't have the same regeneration capabilities as Light or Blood cultivators. This made him worry about how her severe injuries might affect her future. But he quickly shoved those useless thoughts aside. This wasn't the time for worry—it was time to act.

[Dark Blade]

He summoned his shadow blade, the only weapon he believed could harm the monster. Any attempt to use his sword would likely result in it bending against the creature's scales.

[Shadow Aura]

Rushing toward the snake, he slashed its body with his black blade. It wasn't difficult to cut; a red gash appeared between the creature's scales, revealing its muscle. The beast turned its gaze toward Tristan while still holding Zahira in its mouth.

'I'd need about a hundred more hits like that to kill this thing.'

The snake swung its tail toward him, slicing the air like a massive whip.

Thanks to his heightened senses, Tristan managed to dodge. He closed the gap again, delivering a crosscut. Zahira took advantage of the snake's distraction, shooting more spikes at its face. Yet the creature's persistence showed—it refused to let her go.

Tristan returned to his assault. Since his attacks weren't particularly effective, he targeted whichever part of the beast was nearest.

Soon, under mounting pressure, the snake's jaw weakened. Sensing the opportunity, Zahira summoned several branches around her, forcing the snake's mouth open by expanding her body.

When she finally broke free, Buk appeared out of nowhere, jumping into her arms.

The beast's eyes burned with fiery rage. It opened its mouth, unleashing a fireball toward her. Zahira dodged, but the snake spun its body, generating rings of flame.

For a time, the battle was at a stalemate.

Zahira chose to keep her distance, launching spikes or transforming her arms into roots to whip at the enemy. Tristan seized these moments to approach and slice the snake's body.

While the beast relentlessly pressured Zahira with waves of fireballs and blazing infernos, Tristan faced a different treatment—bites, headbutts, and tail strikes. Curiously, the snake only used physical attacks on him. The reason was clear: there was no point in wasting energy on someone at his level. It was better to reserve its essence for Zahira.

Tristan didn't mind this fact at all. He was focused on something else. Reviewing the battle in his mind, he realized their situation was dire.

'Zahira can't defeat it alone, and my attacks don't do much damage.'

He wondered if there was anything he could do to change the tide of the fight. Suddenly, an idea struck him. Initially, he thought it was absurd, but doing something was better than doing nothing. Reaching into his leather backpack, he began searching.

He pulled out a small blue vial.

'Sleep salts.' Tristan had tested their effectiveness on some beasts during his travels, and the results had exceeded his expectations. He assumed a full vial could cause an overdose in a creature the size of a bull. However, using it on a magical beast this large was uncharted territory.

For his insane plan to work, he only needed a way to get the substance into the creature.

'This is so small; it'll be like a fly to that thing. It won't even notice.' He decided to stick with the conventional method.

"Zahira, I have a plan that might give us an edge. I need you to restrain the snake's mouth when I give the signal."

"Are you sure this will work? It's pretty risky for me to get close to that thing."

"No," he replied honestly.

Zahira glanced at the furious beast again, which still eyed her like an invaluable prize.

"Alright, let's try your plan!"

Tristan uncorked the vial and charged at the snake once more.

What came next was incredibly risky. He needed to get close enough to ensure the snake would try to bite him. The problem was, if he delayed even slightly, he could lose a limb—or worse, his life.

Taking a deep breath, he amplified his body with essence and quickly closed the distance.

Even as he approached, the snake kept glancing at Zahira, unwilling to lose sight of her.

HEADBUTT.

He stopped and leaped back.

To his dismay, the snake greeted him with a head-first dive, creating a crater inches from where he stood. Tristan stared at the beast, now just meters away, contemplating running but ultimately deciding otherwise. He remained still, offering himself as bait.

The height difference between them was staggering—Tristan looked like a mere hamster in comparison. As the snake opened its massive jaws to strike, he stood his ground, waiting until the very last second.

When the distance was less than arm's length, Tristan released the blue vial into the air and flipped backward with all his might. The snake's jaws snapped shut where he'd been, narrowly missing his feet by a hair's breadth.

"Now."

Zahira transformed her arms into long roots, binding the snake's mouth shut. The beast resisted, and flames erupting from its body scorched her roots.

"How long do I have to hold this?"

"I don't know."

Gritting her teeth, Zahira summoned more roots.

Seconds passed, and nothing seemed to happen. Then, the snake's eyes widened as if sensing something was amiss. It began convulsing as if trying to vomit, but Zahira held it in place. Gradually, its movements slowed, becoming lethargic.

For a few more seconds, its eyes burned with rage, but then the light within them faded. The snake's body collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

Tristan and Zahira stared, stunned.

"What the hell?"

"What did you do?" she asked, astonished. Her roots began to retreat, but Tristan stopped her.

"Don't release it yet—it might be a trick. I'll check."

He approached cautiously. His Darkness-enhanced eyes detected no movement from the beast.

Reaching its head, he drove his black blade into its skull.

[Tyrannical Eye]

Using his diagnostic ability, Tristan confirmed the monster's heart had stopped, and no life remained in its body. Satisfied, he turned to check on Zahira. Her arms were burned, and her body was riddled with puncture wounds from the snake's fangs.

"Are you alright?"

"No, but I will be." She collapsed to the ground, exhausted. "How did you bring that thing down?"

Before he could answer, an intense wave of orange aura filled the tunnel. Tristan's hair fluttered as his body was covered in dust from the floor. He didn't need to turn to know the source of the disturbance.

Moments later, a deafening explosion echoed. When Tristan looked at the snake's corpse, it was engulfed in what seemed like a red fire cyclone.

When the cyclone dissipated, the snake's scales glowed like embers. Its eyes were gone, replaced by four streams of flames pouring from its nostrils and sockets. The once-lifeless corpse now moved awkwardly, like a newborn or a puppet controlled by an amateur puppeteer.

"What's happening?" Zahira asked, her voice trembling. She had never seen anything like this before. To her, death had always been final. Now, she was witnessing something that challenged one of the most fundamental concepts of life—and worse, she didn't know if she would live to see how it would reshape her understanding.

"It doesn't matter."

"Attack it! We can't let this continue!" Tristan shouted at her.

Zahira hurled spikes at the snake. As before, they embedded in its flesh without issue. However, this time, the snake didn't react like it felt nothing.

The flaming zombie rose fully, its head turned toward them. Though the creature lacked eyes, Tristan felt its intense hatred and resentment directed squarely at him.

The fiery, undead monster charged toward them, leaving a trail of flames in its wake.

Watching this, a vein on Tristan's forehead throbbed more than usual. Grinding his teeth, he braced himself for another fight—one where he'd likely flirt with the void of death once again.

'Since when do the monsters in this world have a second phase?'

First | Previous | Next | More 5 Chapters-RoyalRoad

First

Previous

How did this happen?

I keep asking myself that. Last night I was watching the moon landing with my family, dreaming of becoming an astronaut, and now I’m covering behind a chair in a strange spaceship in fear, watching four aliens yell at each other. One of them is Avaatli -No. To-bi-as?- the alien that, in some weird way, both protected and kidnapped me and my family at the same time. The other one is new. Tobias -is that right?- had told me, that it -or he? It? He. It’s ‘he‘. Probably.- called reinforcements. And those reinforcements are the three new aliens I guess.

Two of them are just as pale as Av-, Tobias, while the third one has much darker skin, which is fascinating.

Tobias is currently arguing with a different alien, this one is slightly smaller, with short yellow hair. I think it’s a girl?

I can’t understand their language, but I’m pretty sure that they are talking about me and my family, but mostly me, since they keep gesturing at us. And both of them are loud, screaming at each other. The new alien gestures back to my family, who are still unconscious in a small cell separated from the main room by a thick sheet of glass. I don’t know, what Tobias gave them, but they haven’t moved since I woke up over an hour ago, no matter what happened in the room, or how loud it got. I look back at the aliens. the one with the yellow hair points back at me yelling something. Tobias moves to stand between me and the other alien. This can’t be good!

"T-Tobias?", I’m scared. I can deal with Tobias, I think, but these new aliens are different. I don’t know them or how to approach them and they definitely don’t seem to like me!

Tobias turns to me, shooting me a brief smile, "Do not worry, Shaviit. Everything will be alright.", then he goes back to arguing.

They go on like that for a while, then the yellow-haired one throws her (?) hands up in the air. Tobias places his right hand on my shoulder, his left arm is still in a sling, and pulls me closer to him. He gently guides me back into one of the two metal chairs, sitting me down in it. "Alright Shaviit, my friends and I will now go and destroy the Galrix nest. Afterward, we will go back to your house and remove all evidence of alien presence. You and your family will have to stay here. You must not leave the ship for your own safety."

I nod. Tobias again smiles at me, before his expression tenses somewhat. "Also, my colleague Vivien", he gestures to the yellow-haired alien, "insists on taking a blood sample from you."

I freeze. What?! The aliens want my blood! Why do they want my blood?! What do they need my blood for?! Fear rushes through me! I shake my head, "No.", I whisper, "No! Tobias no! I-"

Tobias grabs my shoulder, making a shushing sound. "I know, Shaviit. But you do not need to be afraid. It is just a small sample. We want to know, why you are so resilient against our drugs."

"A-and then?", I manage to ask, fearful tears pricking in my eyes, "W-will you u-use that to-", I can’t say it.

Do they want to drug me again?

"No!", Tobias shouts almost immediately, "No, Shaviit. I will not drug you. I promised you that I would not hurt you again, remember?"

Behind Tobias, the yellow-haired alien, Vi-vi-en, or was it Vii-vii-en? I’m not sure., makes a displeased sound, and twists her eyes in a creepy manner. Why does she look so angry? Instinctively I reach for Tobias‘ arm, trying to hide behind him. Tobias turns around, glaring at her, "We will not harm him again, Vivian.", he says. I think he keeps using my language on purpose. The other one doesn’t. She keeps talking in their strange language, gesturing towards me. Tobias also twists his eyes. Heavens, that looks so creepy!

Vivi-en keeps talking, now pointing at my family. My eyes dart toward the cell, and then back to Tobias. "Do not worry.", he says, "Your family will be fine. They will stay asleep for quite some time. This is how the drugs are supposed to work."

I stare at the alien in slight disbelief. He keeps saying that he doesn’t mean to hurt us but then says things like that, completely casually. I don’t think he realizes just how scary he is. Tobias reaches out to pad my shoulder. "Do not worry. We will take care of the Galrix first."

He grabs his weapon from the table. "Behind the other door in the hallway is my living quarter. There is some food in the fridge there, I am sure, you are hungry by now. Everything else can wait until we return."

The other three aliens make their way toward the exit. Tobias gets up as well and is immediately bombarded with shouts from the others. This time however the argument doesn’t seem to be about me. The dark-skinned one walks toward Tobias, pointing at his wounds. Tobias argues some more, gesturing wildly with his good hand. Eventually, they seem to reach some form of conclusion, because the other three seem to give up. Tobias fastens his gun on his belt, grinning triumphantly, then he joins the other at the door. Tobias presses the bracelet around his wrist, and Avaatli’s skin appears around him. I will not get used to that. The other aliens do the same, also growing blue skin and white hair. This is just a trick. Just technology. I’ve to keep reminding myself. One of the aliens looks like the cashier in the supermarket in town.

No. I’m not dealing with that. Not now.

"I will be back soon, Shaviit.", Tobias says, "Do not worry. And please, do not touch anything here in the cockpit." Then the aliens disappear through the door.

I sit in that chair for some time. So this is the cockpit, huh? My gaze wanders back to my family. Tobias was right, they’re still asleep. Still behind that glass. My attempt to wake them by banging against the glass doesn’t help. If I only know, how to open that cell. Tobias pressed some button on one of the computers, but I couldn’t see which one. And there are lots of computers. And even more buttons.

For a moment I consider just pressing every single button until the cell opens, but who knows what all the other buttons and switches are for? I could break something important, or accidentally activate some strange alien weapon, like that gas! Maybe there’s something in the ship that could help me!

Plus, Tobias said I could go into his quarter and eat something, so technically I have the allowance to move around the ship, right? And if I find something useful by accident, I can’t be blamed, right? I start with the cockpit itself. If you ignore all the computers and Screens, it’s surprisingly empty. I find a shelf with some papers on it. I pull them out of the shelf, only to realize a fatal flaw in my plan; I can’t read the alien Script. So even if I find a manual or something, I wouldn’t be able to read it. I don’t even know what a manual would look like!

Damn it!

Still, I continue looking around for a while. Some of the screens are turned on, showing different kinds of diagrams and tables that I don’t understand. One wall has a strange painting on it. Three thick horizontal stripes in blue, green, and brown, overlayed with six crisscrossing yellow stripes. In the middle sits a black circle with a cross running through it. Perhaps it’s a flag? It certainly looks like it.

My stomach rumbles. When was the last time I ate something?

Tobias said something about food in a fridge, right?

With a last look at my family, I make my way down the hallway. There aren’t many rooms in that ship, three to be precise. Aside from the cockpit, there is the room with the medical equipment and the door that should have the living quarter behind it. There’s also a metal trapdoor at the end of the hallway, but it's locked with some strange device and I can’t figure out how to open it, so I turn to the living quarter. The living quarter is a large room. In its center stands a round metal table, with two chairs placed around it. On the left wall is a small kitchenette, and on the right wall are two niches, in one I can see a pillow and a blanket, so that must be a bed, the second one is stuffed full of what seems to be clothing. Opposite the entrance is another door. It has been left slightly ajar so I can see, what seems to be a bathroom. Then there are some shelves and cupboards standing against the walls. Some seem to have books in them, so not very interesting to me. Hesitantly I step into the room. I check out the kitchenette. I rummage around for a bit, in the fridge is a canister with some soup, something that might be cheese, and some red-flesh-thing. After unearthing a spoon from a drawer, I try a small sip from that strange soup, only to spit it right out! Heavens is that spicy! How can anyone eat something like that?! I grab that cheese thing instead and begin nibbling at it. It tastes edible. The same goes for the bread I find on the counter.

I continue looking around. On a shelf by the bed, I spot a small picture frame. It holds some sort of photo, in a quality I’ve never seen before! The colors are vibrant and the contours are so sharp it looks like reality! The picture shows two pale aliens. One seems to be a woman, while the second one is much smaller. I think it’s a boy? Both have the same brown hair as Tobias, but the three-colored eyes look different. By now I’ve noticed that one color can be different from the rest. All alien eyes are white on the outside, with a black dot in the middle, but the color around the black dot changes from alien to alien. Tobias is green, but the two aliens in the picture have a blue color. There’s something written at the bottom of the picture, but, just like everything else, I can’t read it.

I can’t find anything else that looks useful, so I turn to leave the room. Maybe I’ll just start pushing some buttons after all. Then I start feeling thirsty. I try looking around for something to drink. There comes water out of the faucet, but I’m unsure if it’s drinkable. I know that some water from the faucets in the quarry isn’t. So I keep searching until find what I’m looking for, a small plastic bottle with water. And next to it a simple, white ceramic mug. In it is some dark liquid.

Huh.

Drivin' by my curiosity I pick the mug up. The liquid inside is cold, but it must’ve been hot at some point, because why else the mug? I can still smell a soft, lingering scent coming from the liquid. Behind the mug stands a strange machine, holding a can still full of the dark liquid. What is that?

And can I drink it?

The question comes to my mind before I can stop it. The liquid is in a mug, so it has to be meant for drinking it does smell intriguing, in a strange way and what harm could one little sip cause?

A lot. A lot of harm!

I swallowed the first sip when I taste the bitterness. I spit the second sip out! It’s bitter. Really bitter! Unbearably bitter!

Heavens that stuff is disgusting!

I should’ve learned from that soup! Just how do those aliens manage to eat anything like that?!

I look at the mug in my shaking hands.

Wait, shaking?

Why are my hands shaking?! A strange sensation spreads through my body. My head is buzzing. The world suddenly looks razor-sharp! I become hyper-aware of everything within the room!

Wow!

I look at the dark liquid in the mug. What is that? And why can’t I stop bouncing? I’m shaking all over by now. I feel great!

"Shaviit?"

I spin around. Tobias stands in the doorway! He’s back already? It hasn’t been that long, has it? He smiles at me. "Have you found something to eat?", he asks. "I hope there was-", he stops, staring at me intently. I’m still shaking. "Shaviit? Are you alright?" His three-colored eyes land on my hands. I’m still holding the mug. Tobias' expression shifts into something that looks like fear. He rips the mug from my hands!

"Did you drink that?!", he almost yells. I nod hesitantly. I’m getting the feeling, that I maybe shouldn’t have done that. Tobias‘ expression turns from fear to horror. Without any explanation, he grabs me by the arm and drags me across the hallway into the medicine room. I’m about to protest when my world suddenly starts spinning! I go from feeling amazing to feeling horrendous in a single second! I suddenly have a splitting headache, my stomach begins to hurt and I feel like I’m about to vomit! This can’t be good!

I vaguely register Tobias placing me on the bed in the medical room. Everything is spinning now!

What was in that cup?

Tobias is dashing around the room, at least I think he does because I’m starting to see double. I feel something prick my arm. I flinch, trying to pull away. "Wha’s that?", I slur, No, definitely not good! "Medicin.", Tobias answers. "I need to flush your system from the toxin."

"Toxin?", I manage.

Tobias doesn’t answer, he just keeps rushing around. I try to follow his movements, but my head is swimming and I can’t focus. Tobias rustles around next to the bed some more, before sitting down on a chair next to the bed. "Shaviit, why did you have to drink that?", he sighs. I don’t manage to formulate an answer. Suddenly I feel very, very tired. "I hope that your drug resilience helps you with this.", Tobias mumbles. I can’t quite focus. My eyes grow heavy. Everything is foggy.

I have to vomit!

I turn to my side. That’s the only warning Tobias get’s. Turns out, he’s prepared. He holds a bucked under my head, rubbing my back as I heave. I roll back onto the bed, shutting my eyes tightly against the suddenly way to bright light. I keep telling myself that this helps against my headache. I lay unmoving for a while before my stomach acts up again. I feel like I have some long hours ahead of me.

I don’t know how much time I spent lying on that bed before my head slowly starts to clear up. Slowly I sit up, the room is still spinning somewhat, but it’s not nearly as bad anymore. I also haven’t thrown up in a while, so that's probably a good sign. A glass of water appears in my field of vision. Tobias stands in front of me, holding the glass in his good hand. "Here, you need to drink something.", he says. I turn my head away. I don’t want to drink anything! The thought alone makes my stomach turn. "You have to drink." Tobias says, "You are dehydrated. It is just water." I eventually take the glass, slowly sipping at it. I notice that there’s a thin plastic tube connected to a needle sticking out of my left arm. The tube runs up a metal stand and ends in a plastic bag with a clear liquid in it.

"What happened?" I ask. My voice is hoarse. Tobias stiffens, suddenly looking very guilty. "You poisoned yourself.", he says. I stare at him in shock. "Poison?!", I yell, "What poison?!", I jump from the bed. Bad idea! The room starts spinning intensely. I start swaying. Tobias catches me before I can fall, helping me back onto the bed. "Please take it slow, Shaviit.", he says. I rip my arm away from him.

"Why do you have poison in your kitchen?“, I feel a familiar feeling of dread creep back into me. The idea of a strange alien poison hidden in a drink suddenly becomes a very real threat. Tobias drags his good hand through his hair, looking very exhausted, "It is the neurotoxin C₈H₁₀N₄O₂, commonly known as ‘caffeine‘. Humans consume it in small dosages as a stimulant."

I stare at him in complete shock. I can’t believe what I just heard, "You poison yourself?! On purpose?!"

"It is not dangerous to us. At least when consumed in small quantities. It keeps us awake and raises our productivity. But nearly every other species can not digest it.", Tobias turns to face me, "I am sorry, Shaviit. I told you, you could take anything from the kitchen. I did not think about the coffee still being there, or else I would have warned you about it."

Tobias reaches for a bottle behind him, handing it to me, "Here, you have to drink a lot of water. It helps dilute the caffeine and flush your system."

He walks back over to the cupboards, pulls out another one of the small plastic bags, before returning to the bed, changing the bag hanging above it. "This will also help clean your body.", he says, gently smiling at me, "Now try to rest some more."

I nod hesitantly, still a bit scared. The aliens poison themselves?! For fun?! The idea freaks me out, but I do as I’m told and stay in bed, resting and drinking my water.

"Where are the others?", I ask after a while.

"They are still out raiding the Galrix nest.", Tobias answers, seeming glad for the change of topic. "I was sent back after showing them the way, because of my injuries."

"And they can kill them?", I ask with a mixture of hope and doubt. Tobias nods, "They should be fine. Unlike me, they know what awaits them and they are better prepared." His expression turns dark, "However, I doubt that we will be able to rid ourselves of them for good. And sometimes I am not sure if we should."

I stare at Tobias in utter shock. He can’t mean that, can he?! "Why?!", I yell, "They’re evil! They tried to kill us!"

Tobias takes a deep breath, "I know that Shaviit. That is why we keep fighting them. They also once tried to wipe my species out, as they did to many others. But still, we would end an entire species.", he stops looking at me, starring into nothing, "A life taken can not be brought back, a culture erased is gone forever. We fight the Galrix because they wish for us to disappear from the universe. When everything else had failed, we saw no other way but violence. It made us stronger too. The fight against the Galrix had a large part in making us who we are. Our strength protects us, and we can be proud to have it, but violence should always be the last resort. The loss of life should never be taken lightly. We are strong to protect ourselves and others, not to play god and decide who has the right to live. This is a lesson taught to every soldier in our realm. Do you understand that, Shaviit?"

I stare at Tobias in confusion and amazement. Strength to protect others. I mull over his words for a while. "Am I someone you need to protect?", I ask before I realize it. Tobias smiles at me, "Yes. You and your species. Although I seem to not be very good at it.", he says with an awkward chuckle, "I told you before, that we wanted to offer you our protection, right?"

I nod, remembering him talking about being a scout. Tobias continues, "We want to offer you a place in our realm, as partners. Your kind is very similar to ours you know? Not only in your physical appearance but in the way you think and express yourself as well. Although, had the situation remained calm, I would have suggested waiting with the first contact, until the idea of evil aliens invading your world lost some of its prevalence."

"And now you will just do it?", I ask.

"Well, we will not just drop from the sky and confront you with the existence of a large, alive universe. That is not an ideal way of doing that."

I can’t help but agree with that, thinking back to the fear and terror that dominated my life in the last three weeks.

"My government will contact your governments.", Tobias continues to explain, "Once the initial shock has worn off, they will think about a way to inform the public about our existence."

I nod again, still sipping my water. By now, the room has stopped spinning.

For a moment we sit together in silence before I finally work up the courage to ask Tobias a question, that has been on my mind for the entire day, "And what about my family? What happens to us now?" Tobias looks at me with confusion, before his expression shifts to understanding. "You have nothing to fear, Shaviit. Nothing will happen to you. After my friends are done with the Galrix nest, we will clean up your house, and try to make it look like a break-in. The gas used to render them unconscious should also have erased the memories so that they can continue living as before."

I blink at Tobias in slight shock. How does he say these things so casually?

"You are a different story.", the alien continues, seeming oblivious to my shock. Wait! What does he mean by me being a different story? I swallow heavily, sliding a bit further up the bed. "T-tobias?", I ask, fear gripping my voice. The alien's eyes widen in shock. "Oh no! No, Shaviit, no! I will not hurt you.", he rushes to reassure me, "I just have to ask you to keep quiet about your knowledge. We do not know, how long it will take to establish proper contact between your and my governments. If you now start claiming you met aliens, not only would you be regarded as insane, but it could also compromise the attempt at peaceful first contact. So, for your own safety, please stay quiet about us."

"Then why do you always sound so scary?! Half of the things you say sounds like a threat!", I shout. Tobias looks taken aback, before rubbing his neck awkwardly. "I told you I am not trained in first contact. Again, I. Am. Not. Good. At. This! I am awful at first contact! I can not even talk to other humans properly half the time!" I stare at Tobias for a moment, then I burst out laughing. The idea of a socially awkward alien just seems funny to me. Maybe it’s the stress? Tobias looks bewildered for a moment, then he also begins to chuckle. "You are a good kid, Shaviit.", he says.

A loud beeping startles me out of my laughter. Tobias walks towards the door, tapping on a small screen next to it. "It looks like the others are back."

The return of the three other aliens is not nearly as spectacular as I imagined it. They just come in, drop their weapons, and shuffle into the living quarter. Tobias goes to greet them and I follow, still a bit wobbly on my legs. The conversation between the aliens quickly, but by now predictably, escalates into a shouting match, as soon the first one notices the needle in my arm and my pale face. Tobias does scream back but doesn’t seem to defend himself that much. The dark-skinned one even smacks Tobias on the back of the head, like he’s a misbehaving child, before motioning for me to sit down in a chair. I eventually do, after some encouragement from Tobias, the only even slightly trustworthy alien in the room.

The shouting eventually dies down, as the aliens descend into a more civil discussion. Tobias eventually turns to me, smiling gently. It looks a lot more natural when he isn‘t wearing Avaatli’s face over it. "Shaviit, my friends will now go back to your house, to clean up a bit. Afterward, we will take you and your family home, alright?" Home. I know that I can’t have been away for long, but it feels like it’s been forever. I look back at the alien, nodding. "Alright." I say. Tobias nods back with a smile "Alright, and in the meantime, we will wake up your family."

I sit on a brand-new couch in our living room, watching TV. The aliens' plan worked fightingly well. When I first came back into the house, nothing reminded of the attack of monsters from outer space. The bodies were gone and the blood had been cleaned. All traces of claw marks and alien laser blasters had been removed, only the broken door and window remained. Tobias friends -maybe colleagues?- had taken some money with them, to make this look like a burglary gone wrong.

When my family first woke up everything had been very chaotic. Tobias had brought them back to his small hut, where they had finally come to. Mom and Dad had been in a panic, franticly looking for Tharviik and me. To my complete astonishment, Tobias had been right; my family could truly not remember the Galrix attack. When Tobias, once again disguised as Avaatli, told them of the supposed burglary, they seemed to believe him.

Or at least Mom and Tharviik seemed to. I’m not so sure about Dad. Two weeks have passed since the monsters attacked our home, and Dad has been acting strange. He hasn’t said anything and has even thanked ‘Avaatli‘ for ‘saving‘ us again, but he has been unusually quiet since he woke up. Now that I think about it, Dad was awake longer than Mom and Tharviik. The two were knocked out almost instantly, but Dad had stayed conscious a while longer, he even said something to Tobias back then.

Dad had taken the last two weeks off work, to help clean up the house and stay with us. Today he had been back to work. ‘Avaatli‘ had been over occasionally as well, mostly on Mom‘s invitation. Sometimes he helps with repairing the house. He keeps acting normal, or at least like he did before, even towards me. Just Dad keeps a polite distance from his friend, occasionally shooting him suspicious glances.

Mom and Tharviik are out, doing some shopping, or rather Mom had to do some shopping and dragged Tharviik along for help. I had stayed home to wait for Dad, who had come home a few minutes ago. Right now Dad sits next to me on the couch. He has his arm wrapped tightly around me. Very tightly. I think he’s still afraid, that I could disappear again, since the attack on the house even more so.

"Shaviit?", he says suddenly, breaking our comfortable silence, "I want to ask you something." I look at him expectantly. "It’s about Avaatli.” I tense ever so slightly.

"You know how you used to tell me that you find Avaatli a bit strange?"

Shit!

"Yes?", I ask carefully.

Please stop asking!

"What exactly did you mean by that?"

"I know I was rude.”, I say hastily, "I probably just imagining things!"

"I’m not so sure about that anymore."

Oh no!

I try to think of something I could say when suddenly the TV starts acting up. The image flickers, like someone messing with the antenna, then the news channel banner appears on the screen. They’re announcing an emergency broadcast! Dad tenses next to me.

The News Anchor appears, he looks pale, and scared. "G-good evening, L-ladies and Gentlemen. T-today we r-received the f-following video from the p-palerment. We will n-now show said v-video. I m-must warn you, the f-following images could be d-disturbing to some v-viewers." The image changes again. A strange figure appears on the screen. A pale face with three-colored eyes.

Tobias' voice echoes through my head, his words about first contact playing in my mind So it’s happening!

"Heavens!", Dad curses beside me, pulling me closer. His face twisting in horror.

"People of Naiila. My name is Sophia. I represent the Terran Empire. Do not fear us, we come to you in peace."

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Date: 77 PST (Post Stasis time)

Note from publisher: This document was recovered alongside the arrest of the main perpetrators of the “TerranBuddy” criminal organization, who were later found guilty of trafficking several thousand sapient members of the “Terran” species. It seems to be a guide for any prospective buyers of a Terrain on their care and maintenance.

The publisher would like to remind all Ghirlinn citizens that no matter how ‘cute’ the Terrans are, kidnapping a person of any species is illegal, and can be punished with up to thousands of years of altered reality imprisonment. Just because the Terrans are not as technologically advanced as we are doesn’t mean they should be treated with any less respect.

Please stop adopting and kidnapping Terrans, and for adoption specifically, get prior consent from the Terrans in question.

Signed: Janirlin Eagiral - Ghirlinn diplomat to the Terran Conclave.

—----------------------

How to care for your Terran.

Thank you prospective buyer, for your interest in the hottest new craze sweeping Ghirlinn space: Terrans! A full catalogue of the specimens we have to offer has already been provided to you along with this document! Before purchasing any Terran, all prospective buyers should read this guide and give proper thought to whether they have the right lifestyle and personality to take care of the adorable primates!

Please note that any indication of mistreatment or irresponsible care of your Terran will result in consequences. We here at TerranBuddy have a reputation for ensuring each Terran will live happy, enriching lives when taken care of by their new owners, and we expect you, as a fine customer of TerranBuddy products, to do the same!

Again, we thank you for your consideration, and hope this document is informational in your decision to purchase your very own Terran.

What is “A Terran”.

Apart from the biggest thing to hit Ghirlinn space? Terrans are actually three different completely different grouping of species, which are broadly designated into:

You read that right. Humans both made friends with everything they could find on their home planet, then bonded with them so hard they considered themselves the one and the same. Yes, it is as cute as it sounds.

Terrans come from the [Milky Way] part of the supercluster, and are a Class B civilization with basic FTL, who have managed to befriend a large section of their local galaxy. While they are a major player in their own bubble, they lack major technologies when compared to the Ghirlinn, so keep this in mind.

Caring for your Terran

Terrans are both easy to care for and require a lot of effort to keep healthy and happy. Physically, your Terran is a hardy fellow, able to thrive in temperatures and climates as varied as the planet they originate from. While they are the most comfortable around [20 degrees], they can survive or even thrive at a range of [-40 to 40 degrees], in a large variety of environments. Many Terrans will even be happier if you give them a less than ideal environment to reside in, because they like the challenge.

Yes it’s adorable, don’t worry too much about it, Terrans love to place themselves in ‘danger’. The excitement of not dying is something many Terrans enjoy. Providing them safe ways to nearly die can be a great bonding experience with your Terran, such as:

• Allowing them to trek/hike/explore through dangerous territory.
• Engaging in the consumption of certain poisons (Capsaicin and Alcohol in particular)
• Bounty hunting pirate vessels. Avoid using any technology of class A or higher to avoid ‘solving the problem’: Your Terran should feel like an active part of apprehending the target.

Feeding your Terran is simple, as most edible items are Terran safe (Please see full list of non-Terran safe food items in Appendix A.), and the primates will benefit if you’re able to provide them with a large range of different diet items. The little guys really enjoy sugar and caffeine, however care should be taken not to overfeed your Terran with such items: Yes, their expressive eyes will demand you give them more treats, but overfeeding or poor diet can cause health issues for your new buddy!

Terrans also love things that are soft. Pillows, cushions, items to snuggle into and wrap themselves in. Be sure to keep a wide variety of different comforting objects scattered about their environment, and allow them to explore and display their personality at their own pace!

Keeping your Terran happy!

This is where the difficulty of maintaining your Terran may appear. The primates are not a low maintenance companion, and require a significant amount of effort and time to keep happy and mentally stimulated.

Terrans are, as a rule, social animals, with extended periods of isolation being harmful to their health. If your schedule doesn't permit you regular interaction with your charge, we suggest you select a minimum of two Terrans from our catalogue. (TerranBuddy takes no responsibility for damage caused by unsupervised Terrans, purchases of more than one Terran should be part of a plan to ensure proper supervision of your charges).

If that is not feasible, then Terrans will bond with practically any lifeforms that aren't trying to kill them (and often even ones that are). In a pinch, providing them with a selection of “googly eyes” (purchasable from the TerranBuddy store) and objects to stick them to can provide temporary companionship.

However, even when given proper social interaction, the main number one rule is: Never let your Terran get bored. Terrans are high maintenance companions, highly intelligent and curious about everything. If you leave them mentally unstimulated for long periods of time, they will find their own stimulation.

This means you will arrive home to find your entire kitchen disassembled, even if you didn't give them any tools (they will make their own). While these hijinks sound (and frankly are) adorable, living with them can be disruptive or even dangerous. Unattended and under-stimulated Terrans can be deadly.

The little primates, while lacking the technological knowledge to build or even understand most of our technology, have an annoying knack for getting things working ‘just enough’ through extensive pattern recognition and willingness to hit buttons until things go. While good owners will use these abilities to provide their Terrans with various puzzle boxes in order to access treats, if left unattended this can cause your Terran to gain access to technologies they don’t quite understand.

The following incidents have been noted in the last three months:

• One Terran managed to warp their owners' vessel into the local government’s central administration. Yes, we know that’s impossible due to the safety features. No, we don't know how they did it.
• Rigging up a creation engine to create an infinite amount of peanut butter.
• Causing a previously undiscovered reaction between the creation engine and a causality editor to erase “themselves, their owner, and the entire vessel they were on” out of reality. Again, we're not sure how they did this, or even where/when this customer is at the moment.
• Opening up a Xaeal device, exposing themselves to the core within. Luckily the three kinds of cancer this gave the Terran were curable.

Entertaining your Terran

Luckily, Terrans are exceptionally easy to keep stimulated with a little bit of effort, as they are innately curious creatures, meaning you simply need to provide them with new experiences. 76% of our Terran catalogue ended up wandering onto our transport vessels willingly, and have not yet realised the actual status of their situation (For such Terrans, please avoid using words like ‘‘trafficked’, ‘captured’, ‘owned’. Instead, they are ‘guests’, ‘tourists’ and ‘diplomats’)

You can offer your Terran an entire universe of wonders that they cannot find in their home galaxy. The most mundane things are considered amazing and exciting, as long as it's new to them. Terrans, when given new items, should be supervised heavily. Although providing new items into their environment is healthy, it's super important to ensure they don’t try to use unfamiliar technology without direct instruction.

Terrans also love being helpful, so providing your Terran with a job to accomplish will provide your buddy with a level of self-satisfaction. Something that's mildly complicated, but easily automated such as systemwide ship navigation or warp engine maintenance. Make it clear that this job is of importance even though it isn’t, that you’re ‘depending’ on the Terran to do this task.

Do’s and Don’t with your Terran!

DON’T worry too much. Terrans will often hum, sing, or talk to themselves. They will also often say ‘ow’ even when not hurt. This is perfectly normal behaviour and not a sign of mental trauma.

DON’T post pictures of them on social media. Remember, this is still illegal, no matter how much you want to show off your cute adorable little buddy to the world.

DO bond with your Terran. It might come in handy, as Terrans will pack bond with anything, and in a pinch your Terran might even lie to the authorities for you if you get caught with one.

DON’T try to force a Terran to do something. Terrans are very stubborn, and will very specifically do the complete opposite to what you want them to do, just because you told them they had to do it. Reverse psychology is often the best way forwards, unless they realise that’s what you’re doing.

DO be ready to adopt any wild animals that a Terran may find, regardless of how dangerous the animals might be. “Can we keep it please” is a key indicator that you’re about to get a new pet.

DON’T give them access to fire. For some reason Terrans really like setting stuff on fire, and will set stuff on fire regardless of safety to the local environment.

DO be willing to go where the Terran’s interest take you, letting them take the lead on your activities is a great way to get them involved in solving their own boredom. Sometimes this is going to be visiting mountains or other peaceful scenery, sometimes this is going to be aiding in a revolution against an authoritarian government.

DON’T leave more than one Terran together alone for extended periods of time, especially if they have realised the reality of the ‘trafficking Terrans’ situation. Terran chaos and affinity for “getting bored and doing stuff’ increases exponentially with each Terran within a group. Having 5 or more together is the same risk as having an unstable anti-matter bomb sat next to the warp engine.

DO be sure to buy plenty of Terran approved items from the TerranBuddy store! Everything from Roomba's to caffeinated snacks can be purchased from our stores!

As a final reminder, if you choose to purchase your very own Terran companion, be sure to contact our 35/9 around the clock support team for any issues or emergencies!

—----------------

Publishers note: The TerranBuddy criminal organization was eventually dismantled and apprehended after a group of Terrans broke out of storage, and then rigged up an improvised explosive that broke the ship’s causality stabilizer. This shattered ripple in time was quickly noticed by the Ghirlinn government resulting in several hundred arrests of both the organization’s members and customers (Although the latter has been hindered by a number of the purchased Terrans in question often refusing to testify or ‘snitch’ against their now Ghirlinn friend.)

All recovered Terrans were offered free transport back to their home galaxy, with an acceptance rate of 43%. We are keeping an eye on those who remained to ensure the safety of both them, and the people they interact with.

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A/N: First time posting on HFY, no clue what I'm doing but I'll update links as more chapters come out.

Next? || RoyalRoad

A sharp, metallic hum cut through the night as a silver coin spun in the air. It reflected the moonlight several times before landing in the palms of Tucker’s leather gloves. He stared at the coin, its surface glistening on one side while the other dull, and then at the trade caravans approaching the city in the darkness.

Armed guards were patrolling the very route they were overlooking, their torches burning and flickering along the winding road that led to the kingdom. In their hands were halberds with a blue banner fluttering at the ends. From afar, Tucker could see two white swords crossing each other within a golden reef, while the wagons were pure white with gold accents on the exterior.

To the side, Alex’s pale fingers wrapped around his sword’s handle. In one precise motion, he brought his cloak to the blade; dragging it against the fabric. The fresh blood dripping from the weapon’s edge vanished, leaving a clean surface that shined beneath the moonlight—finishing off the injured bandit as an act of mercy. His black eyes lingered on the bandit’s corpse with a hint of worry. The pristine armor and well-maintained weapons left a sense of unease on his mind. Something about these bandits felt wrong, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Ignoring the veteran, Tucker pulled the green hood over his brown hair. He stepped onto the fallen tree trunk and struck a heroic pose. “And so, here we are once more. Protecting our kingdom from the clutches of evil.”

“Would it kill you to take this seriously?” Alex asked.

Tucker rolled the coin between his fingers with a smile. “I am. This is part of the process.”

“The only process I see here is you acting like a fool.”

“Am I a cool fool?” Tucker jokingly asked, pocketing the coin.

“You’re about to be downgraded to an idiot if you keep this up,” Alex replied with an unamused look in his eyes.

“Oh, come on! They’re just bandits. It’s not like it’s uncommon for them to die in the middle of nowhere.” Tucker dismissively waved his hand to the side, his hazel-colored eyes scanning the bodies. He unrolled his sleeves, covering his white skin, and sighed. “If anything, we shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Still, for this many of them to be killed without us knowing? That’s some bullshit if you ask me.” Alex brushed the dirt from his pants and gave Tucker a hard stare. “We’re watchmen. It’s our job to find the cause of any threats and eliminate them. You shouldn’t brush aside something just because you think they’re worth less than shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Tucker rolled his eyes and brushed the matter to the side. “We’re the Kingdom’s heroes and all that. You don’t have to lecture me all the time about it.”

Alex’s hands twitched at the word hero. He shook his head and grumbled, “I wouldn’t have to lecture you all the time if you got it through your thick skull.” The old man scoffed before quietly mumbling. “Besides, there’s nothing heroic about what we do.”

The rookie raised an eyebrow at what his senior had said. There were faint traces of disgust in the old man’s voice. One that was barely noticeable, but before Tucker could respond, Alex turned away while brushing his gray hair to the side and adjusting his leather hat. The broad brim crafted from demonic hide, cast a veil that hid his face from any onlookers and even though Tucker couldn’t see his expression, he could tell from how Alex carried himself that he didn’t like the word hero one bit.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Tucker looked over his shoulder at the corpses behind them. “How many more of these bastards do you think there are? It shouldn’t be that many with this much dead.”

“There could be a hundred of them for all we know.”

”Great… just great,” Tucker muttered, following behind Alex with his arms behind his head. “I’ll be honest. I’m sick of these missions. When will we get something that’ll actually test our skills?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re a secret organization.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve done a pretty lousy job of staying a secret. Everyone knows about us these days.”

Alex rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger, unable to refute the snarky greenhorn. “Just be grateful that we only have to deal with low-threat missions. Especially since you haven’t formed a proper bond with your spirit companion.”

“This again?” Tucker scoffed and shook his head. “I told you I don’t need my spirit companion. I’m fine on my own.”

“No one’s fine on their own,” Alex shot back. “That’s why the Order has us moving in pairs.”

Tucker frowned, trying to make sense of Alex’s words, but the old man didn’t wait for him. They were currently investigating a series of disappearances along the southern border, but the past few days had been filled with nothing but eerie silence. Just the same old routine of scouting and tracking while protecting caravans moving between the Empire and the Kingdom. Yet no matter how much he protested to his senior that this task was a waste of time, Alex remained adamant about discovering something.

If this continued for any longer, he would categorize it as one of Alex’s unhealthy obsessions.

As Tucker trudged along, his gaze lingered on the remains of a ruined village. A landmark of the war between their home and the Empire. Even though decades had passed since the peace treaty, the scars of that conflict still lived to this day. Like the other landmarks along the southern border, these refused to fade.

With a weary sigh, Tucker stretched his arms. Soon, they would have to reposition and scout the next trade route from another position. Continuing on with this boring task. He rubbed his hazel eyes as Alex’s spirit companion woke up from its slumber and poked its head out of his pocket. It was a small lizard with scales resembling embers. The creature softly yawned before climbing onto Alex’s shoulder. Its smooth scales radiated a gentle warmth while emitting a faint light. One that was only visible to those that had an affinity with spirits.

Sally stared at Alex with bright, azure eyes and softly growled before turning to Tucker and hissing in anger. Its frill expanded outward, revealing a bright combination of crimson hues that shook back and forth as it bared its fangs.

Seeing this, Tucker looked down at the lizard and smirked.

“Could you not pick a fight with my spirit companion?” Alex asked.

“Fight? It’s beneath a future Nightfall Ranger like myself to fight with a reptile. I’m gonna be the best of the best.” Tucker placed his hand on his chest. “If anything, I would battle against monsters or some sort of beast.”

“And what about knights?”

“Well, we haven’t fought with knights in years, so I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that. Right?”

Alex gave him a long, deadpan stare before shaking his head and turning away. It was the first time he had ever encountered someone like Tucker, and he felt it certainly wouldn’t be the last. From what he heard, the entire new generation was a handful and possibly one of the worst yet best batch of recruits they had ever found. At least, that was what the instructors said. But so far, he didn’t see it.

As they walked through the forest, Tucker stayed close to Alex and checked their surroundings. They were on a supposed stealth mission, even though he may or may not have caused a ruckus earlier. It just supported his argument that there was nothing in this blasted foliage since, if there were, they would’ve gotten ambushed. The rookie released a tired sigh. It was pointless to argue with the old man since he was dead set on flipping every stone on this side of the forest.

Yet despite this, Tucker stopped in his tracks as if something had hit him. The air was thick with a scent like wet iron, a scent that clung to the back of his throat. It was something he had read in books, but experiencing it in person caused him to gag. After walking for several minutes and crossing through a series of thick foliage, a trail of blood caught their eyes—dead bodies exceeding the previous amount laid before them. Their skin pale from the cold.

He held his hand over his mouth and nose. “What the hell happened here?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out soon enough.” Alex knelt beside a corpse and examined the wound. His gaze hardened as he rubbed the slick blood between his fingers. “Something’s off, these wounds… they’re too clean.”

The old man signaled for Tucker to come towards the body with a grim expression. “Slide your hand through this wound and tell me if you feel anything… different.”

The rookie followed the veteran’s instructions and soon narrowed his brows. There was another wound hidden within the long gash on the bandit’s chest. It was without a doubt a puncture wound that went several centimeters deeper than the cut above it. He locked eyes with Alex, who quickly scanned the area.

“Check the other corpses and see if it’s the same,” Alex ordered.

Both of them began examining the wounds on the bandit’s bodies. After checking several bodies and confirming the striking similarities between each corpse, they looked at each other with troubled expressions.

Tucker’s voice trembled. “Who could have done this?”

“I don’t know, but they wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of hiding these wounds unless they were up to no good.” Alex stood up and wiped the blood off his black gloves on the leaves of a nearby bush. “We’ll head further into the forest and see if we can track them.”

Tucker agreed with the sentiment as a sense of unease lingered in the back of his mind. The wind had stilled, and even the usual hum of night insects had faded into silence. There was something unsettling about the scene before them—the hidden wounds, the carefully placed bodies. It was as if someone, or something, was watching, waiting.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came.

Suddenly, an eerie calmness descended around them, broken only by the faint flutter of wings in the distance. Tucker felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He instinctively moved closer to Alex, his hand hovering near his dagger. Seeing this, Alex mirrored the movement, their backs now pressed together as they scanned the treeline.

“Something’s not right,” Tucker whispered, his eyes darting between the shadows of the oak trees.

The presence grew nearer—less than ten meters away now, and still closing in. Every muscle in their bodies tensed, ready to strike. Then, through the dense foliage, a small shape burst through—a bird not much larger than Tucker’s fist emerged. Its body dancing in the wind as the mist fluttered like a flame from a candle.

The tension broke as the tiny creature spread its wings and gracefully slowed its approach, landing on Alex’s outstretched arm.

“God dammit.” Tucker lowered his hand upon seeing the Order’s messenger. “Do they always have to appear like this? I swear it just gives me a mini heart attack every time this happens.”

“Well, it’s better we stay on our toes than to die a fool’s death. In the past, the Empire used to rig their carriers as one of ours.” Alex removed the parchment wrapped around the mist hawk’s foot and released it. “And because of that, we lost a few good watchmen. So if you ask me, it’s better to be cautious than to die because of a false sense of security.”

Tucker watched as Alex released the mist hawk into the air, flapping its shadowlike wings without leaving a trace. He paused for a moment before turning to the veteran. “I don’t get it. Was the five-year war really that bad?”

“It was.”

“But we won the war. We repelled the invaders.”

“Yes… but at what cost?” Alex read the letter. For a second, a trace of sadness flickered in his eyes. It was subtle, but just enough for Tucker to catch. “I lost many friends during that war and even though we won. It was a hard fought victory that required sacrifice.” He clenched onto the corners of the page and ripped it into tiny pieces.

It was always like this. Whenever something suspicious appeared, the administrators would order for them to return.

He held the pieces of the letter close to Sally’s mouth. Watching the salamander spew out a tiny flame onto the parchment, setting it ablaze.

Tucker stood to the side and waited as the ashes from the parchment drifted with the wind. It was rare for the old man to get sentimental. He thought about what he learned from the academy but couldn’t find the right words to say. Even if he tried to comfort him, he knew the old man wasn’t the type to want to hear it.

The rookie gazed at the fleeting embers, feeling a sense of sadness in his heart. “So… what was in the letter?”

Alex glanced at Tucker before staring off into the distance. After a few minutes, he let out a deep exhale while shaking his head. “It’s a mass recall order from the Administrators. We’re to return to the Keep when the opportunity arises, but to be frank, it doesn’t sit well with me to leave like this.”

“Then what’s your call?”

Alex curiously raised a brow. “I thought you didn’t want to stay here any longer?”

“Who knows? Maybe I felt bad and had a change of heart.” Tucker shrugged his shoulders before smiling. “Besides, we’ve spent weeks out here and now that something interesting happens, we’re told to return? I’ve never been a man of faith, but I know when God’s fucking with me.”

“Then it looks like we have a long night ahead of us,” Alex smirked beneath his mask. Whether Tucker was doing it out of pity didn’t matter. As long as they were on the same page then they could continue with their little adventure. “Let’s go, we’re hunting bandits.”

Chapter 5: First Contact

First Previous

Ambassador Calissa Vern sat quietly as she observed her team. Theo and Adrian - the science officer - were quietly conversing while the cetuli representative, Uril, was getting the message from the karroofan representative ready - their bodies would jellify like a deep sea organism brought to the surface in standard gravity ranges, preventing them from leaving their specialized habitats and independent colonies - and Skariikta of the nitrigat delegation, the serpentine alien with a conical head was rubbing his finger-like facial feelers together in angst. “Skariikta, do you have the translation matrix for the ‘Universal Song’ installed in your suit?” it was a dumb question, she knew that, but it was one meant to distract the alien.

“Of course I do,” he snapped. “But it’s not every day we make a first contact, and the nitrigat never made a willing one before. I just don’t want theirs to end up like my species’ first contact.”

“Are you comparing us to the Ytar?” Uril spat, the translation loudly coming from her earpiece with no delay between it and her speech.

“Absolutely not, but I’m aware of how tenuous our grasp on local power is.”

“Then,” Calissa intervened. “You’ll know we can’t afford to make unnecessary enemies. We have no plans for military action against them - and it will stay that way, unless they give us a reason.”

Skariikta curled his feelers into a “fist” around his jawless mouth in agitation, “So you think it’s a possibility?”

“It’s always a possibility, and one we have to consider,” Theo joined in. “Because it’s our job to ensure that possibility doesn’t come to pass.”

“Precisely,” Calissa agreed. “We can’t avoid war if we don’t accept it as a potential outcome.”

“I don’t like it,” Skariikta stated. “It feels too much like we’re looking for reasons to invade.”

“Five minutes until arrival,” the shuttle pilot announced. 

Uril sighed, “How about we leave this subject in the branches until after the meeting? It won’t do any of us any favors if we’re bickering right before we make a first contact.”

Variations of “Okay” rose from the rest of the team while Skariikta’s twitching feelers assured everyone the debate was far from over. The rest of the flight was spent in relative silence as Calissa went over the first contact procedures for the last time. They were brief, to the point, and primarily focused on acting like an emotionless robot so as to not cause any offense. Frankly, if it weren’t for the laundry list of first contact disasters backing them up, she’d think they were ridiculous. Though body language was often vaguely understandable at an instinctual level, the understanding of its intricacies was not and the slightest faux pas could be blown up into a diplomatic crisis; and that wasn’t even getting into the vagaries and bafflement caused by the eldritch forms of species like the chik Trizzik. Even millennia after making contact, humanity and those particular ambulatory anemones preferred to keep their distance.

“Noise” vibrated through the shuttle hull as it extended and connected its umbilical to the station. Automated checks and readjustments were completed in short order before the umbilical began filling with atmosphere. Calissa impatiently began tapping her thigh as the rest of the team made excited speculation. “Stop that,” she warned when the speculation shifted into gambling and hedging bets. 

“You humans…” Skariikta ground out from between lamprey-like teeth.

“Please, like the nitrigat don’t have any bad habits,” Uril jabbed.

“Stop bickering,” Calissa ordered, more sharply. As the light went green, signifying the umbilical was safe to enter, she added, “There’ll be plenty of time for fun and celebration after this mission is a success.”

“And if it’s not?” Theo challenged jokingly.

“The Breath in the Veil has several rec rooms with bars.” The walk through the umbilical was short, claustrophobic, and reminded her of a rodent’s tunnel. Using a security code “skeleton key” from the time of the Solar Order, she opened the door into the station and became the first human to see the tyiv-Ature’rin.

They were shorter than her, only coming up to her chin, although their upper ears reached the top of her head with anthropoid dimorphism and were covered in short, dense fur consisting of reddish brown, shades of brown, and neutral colors. Four cat-like ears arranged around large, round eyes set in facial disks reminiscent of an owl’s gave them a satellite dish-like face which clearly showed their nocturnal origins as much as the dim lighting in the station. Their engraved or saber-teeth lent a ferocious aspect to their - if she was being honest - somewhat cute appearance. That ferocious aspect was offset by “whiskers” glowing on a gradient of green and blue with what she assumed was bioluminescence. Surprisingly, they were anthropomorphic - already a rarity in the galaxy - and had a tetrapod body plan, marking theirs as one of the few biospheres where evolution converged on a design similar to Earth. Clothing was intricate and covered in detailed and glittered designs suggesting both ritual and formality; and was primarily split between robes, arm and leg sleeves separate from their open-back shirts, while skirts held no apparent gender divide - likely due to their long, bushy tails, similar to how cetuli and other tailed species have more preference for them in casual or formal dress. She paid closer attention to their exposed fur, looking for a reason beyond culture (as it was a uniform aspect among the diplomats), why so much was left exposed and noticed strands of bioluminescence in their darker stripes. Body language, she thought, satisfied. Shoes were nothing outstanding and shared a similar design philosophy with other digitigrade species.

All this took place in a couple seconds as the tyiv-Ature’rin delegation did likewise, before Calissa pulled up the translator app on her tablet and was about to tune her earpiece to add the new language when the alien delegation did something utterly unexpected, “We welcome you into our domain, in hopes we may share in friendship and peace. I am Son of the Autumn of the Theater of the Divine Lady of Fire,” the leading diplomat - a two-toned gray furred male figure clothed in a robe decorated by what Calissa guessed was imagery of a star warming any icy world to life - spoke in clear, fluent latin. His voice was like a cat’s purr and the chirping of a songbird with an unplaceable subliminal tone, “It is my wish that you would share these goals so we may join together in prosperous harmony.”

“You… you speak latin,” Calissa managed after several heartbeats of stunned silence.

“Yes. During our studies onboard this station, we found that not only did we share similar vocal structures, but we could reproduce the sounds of your language with ease,” He explained. “The hardest part was assigning meaning to sounds and writing. But, with the help of educational AI, and computers able to communicate with yours, we can learn your languages relatively quickly. This ‘latin’ is just the easiest one for us to learn.”

“That-that’s incredible,” Calissa breathed out, spending most of her concentration on showing decorum. “So, can all of you speak it?”

“Yes,” spoke another diplomat - this one with black fur and dressed in plain clothes underneath a fine forest-green cloak. “Though my honored colleague and I volunteered for this mission, all of us were chosen because we had devoted our time in leisure to the study of an alien language. In fact, many of our people have done so. I am A Divine Son of the Fields, and I serve War’s End, and I bid warm greetings to you on behalf of my nation. Would you like to enter our home so we may discuss matters?”

“That would be nice, thank you. I am Calissa Vern, and on behalf of the Concord Republic, I welcome you to the stars,” Calissa shook off her surprise as introductions were made between the two delegations and they entered the station. Uril and the humans were stuck following the nocturnal Skariikta and the tyiv-Ature’rin delegates through the dimly lit halls instead of stumbling in the near-dark. Though Adrian broke off to meet with the tyiv-Ature’rin scientists when they met at a junction.

“So - Skariikta, was it?” A barn owl-colored diplomat named Loving Daughter of the Spring of the nation Forested Seas asked.

“Yes.”

“Why are you wearing an environmental suit, but Uril isn’t?”

“The cetuli - my species - were able to breathe the same atmosphere as humanity with a minor genetic modification to our respiratory and circulatory systems which made us require less oxygen,” Uril explained. “And a portion of our population chose to make the modification in order to better integrate with human society after… after a war nearly wiped out my species. The nitrigat, however, breathe an atmospheric mixture which contains chlorine gas, and their digestive system requires it to properly detoxify the food they eat. The gene-edits they’d require would be significant and highly taxing on their bodies.”

“I see. That is fascinating, and what of those who didn’t make the modification?”

“They’re making their own way in the galaxy,” Uril spoke with an edge of finality. Calissa couldn’t blame her - the Ytar War was an even more sensitive topic for the cetuli than humanity. Both lost their homeworlds and scores of colonies were razed - but at least humanity wasn’t reduced to less than a hundred thousand.

“That carrier you brought is truly a marvel,” A Divine Son of the Fields spoke up, and Calissa immediately recognized the curious, probing tone even through the species barrier. “I must admit, I am curious why you chose to bring it on this mission.”

She noticed Loving Daughter of the Spring, swat him with her tail and mentally deliberated for a moment, wondering how much to divulge. “Well, it’s only a light carrier, meant as a command ship for patrol fleets,” she decided, almost breaking composure as three of the tyiv-Ature’rin delegates staggered and shifted to a brighter shade of blue. “We redirected it for this mission in order to provide extra security.”

“I see,” A Divine Son of the Fields choked out, trying to disguise his nerves with a cough. However, that cough and the light show he and his team were putting on made them easy to read.

She let silence hang in the air as they reached the crew lounge of the station and took seats around a circular table. “I will admit, though we did hold some reservations about your intentions,” she said at last, deciding to use the truth to put them at ease. A little fear was an important ingredient in contacting a new society - experience had taught her - but too much had potential to backfire drastically. Besides, they had caught her off-guard first, “That was not the primary reason we felt this meeting needed extra security.”

“It is not?” Iron Lady of the Mountain. A russet-furred diplomat from Val’s End, asked. “We understand, from the few messages exchanged between our peoples and of the history we have uncovered through this station, that we emerge in an unstable period following the collapse of a regime, but is the situation so bad as to need a ship of such magnitude for this meeting?”

Calissa chose to ignore the fact that they had a fleet of two dozen corvettes assembled - which was exclusively for the Concord Republic - as she answered, “Calling the situation unstable is an understatement. The situation is nothing short of anarchy. Outside of the Republic, pirate kings, corporate warlords, and alien predators call the shots. Civilization is collapsing, and we are left scrambling to pick up the scraps and rebuild. We need allies if we’re going to bring civilization back from the brink, and we hope to count you among them.”

The tyiv-Ature’rin delegation shifted to even deeper shades of blue as she spoke, and Son of the Autumn replied, “We would be honored to stand as friends, but I’m afraid we don’t have the reach or strength to contribute ourselves to this noble endeavor of yours. Perhaps once we are better established in the future, such will be in our capabilities.”

Theo gave an answer to his concerns, “That’s no problem, we are already in the preliminary talks of a potential treaty to put forward to your people at a later date. In the meantime, all we ask is that you keep your affairs in order and ensure your own stability.”

“We thank you for your understanding, and as my colleague said, we would be honored to stand side-by-side as friends in your endeavors,” Iron Lady of the Mountain said, glowing green and holding a look of relief that crossed the species barrier. “What you ask of us is something we can do, and we will set ourselves to ensuring we can participate in your efforts as equals as soon as we can. If it is not improper, may we move the subject towards lighter matters?”

“Of course,” Theo replied. “But first, we have a message from the karroofa representative.”

Uril quickly pulled up the message on her tablet and set it to project a 3D image of Trademaster Hyndraethl. The tyiv-Ature’rin delegates, being unfamiliar with the four-eyed decapods that looked like a cross between a spider and a lizard, drew back as he twitched his pedipalps in greeting and opened his jaws to reveal the grinding chelicerae inside, “Greetings to you, new friends! I am Hyndraethl and it is my pleasure to greet you on behalf of the karroofan people. Though it pains me our species will never meet face-to-face due to the tragic biology of mine, rest assured we have plenty to offer you and are always happy to see new faces. The galaxy is a big and frightful place, but it is also full of wonder. Humanity lifted us from our cradle long ago, and we have seen how they have stood by those who stand by them. We hope to hear from you soon!”

“What did… Hind-ray-fill,” Son of the Autumn pronounced clunkily. “Mean by ‘tragic biology?”

“The karroofa come from a world with brutally high gravity and cannot tolerate lower gravity environments as a result,” Uril explained. “They would fatally decompress if they tried to leave their specialized stations or the planets they could colonize. The Solar Order gave them the technology to leave their homeworld - a feat which would’ve been impossible on their own - in exchange for their expertise in high-G production and research.”

“I see…” Son of the Autumn said thoughtfully. “And what of your species? How did you come to ally with humanity - to the extent of altering yourselves in order to integrate with their society?”

“Erm… it was a… bloodier introduction for us, the nitrigat, and several other species. Humanity was in a war with our enslavers, and we rose up in the closing years of the war,” Uril explained hesitantly. “The hated enemy chose to punish the species who defied their ‘godhood’ with extermination. The nitrigat were the ones who escaped with the least damage, my species barely survived, but most didn’t make it. They chose death over living under the madness of the Ytar. Most of the simpering koudziku who stayed loyal to them are tragically still around.”

The tyiv-Ature’rin were briefly silent, taken aback by the venom dripping from Uril’s every word. Hesitantly, Loving Daughter of the Spring began to ask, “I… I cannot express how deeply sorry we are for the pain you have experienced. What about the Yt-”

“Dead,” Skaarikta flatly stated. “Hunted to extinction.”

“We can get into the details of the Ytar War later,” Calissa quickly changed the subject, pulling a data card out and sliding it across the table. “In fact, there is a summary of it included with the histories of our species. There’s information on humanity, cetuli, nitrigat, karroofa, and the other current spacefaring species we know of on this card. In addition, there are the translation matrices for the species within the Concord Republic. I know you have already translated human languages and can speak to them, but it would aid diplomatic efforts for yourselves if you took the time to study their languages. Show you care about them.”

“Makes sense,” Son of the Autumn said with a flick of the upper left ear. Calissa was almost seething at the first contact protocols by now, as it became more and more clear how this species used body language heavily - perhaps because they seemed to wear their emotions in a light show. “I know your scientist and our team are discussing matters of biology, but out of curiosity, what are your diets like?”

“Humans are generalist omnivores as well as the nitrigat, while the cetuli are facultative frugivores and the karroofa are obligate carnivores,” Theo provided in rapid-fire. “What about you?”

Loving Daughter of the Spring answered, “We’re mesocarnivores. Though we primarily eat meat, we do require some leafy greens and can eat fruit - though we have a hard time digesting large amounts of sugar - but grains are inedible to us.”

“That’s fascinating,” Calissa replied, noting the presence of ‘leafy greens’ for the answer to the photosynthetic pigment of their homeworld, however, ‘grains’ took her off-guard and she wondered if it was meant as a comparative plant type - but then questioned why they wouldn’t use the name of that. While grain-analogues did exist, grain and grasses themselves were a matter of Earth’s evolutionary history. She put it off for later, though. Something to ask Adrian about. “With the saber-teeth, I figured you were carnivores, but I thought you’d be obligates. Although, considering you’re tool users, I’m surprised they haven’t receded. Why is that?”

The tyiv-Ature’rin delegates shifted to a shade of blue and a couple squirmed uncomfortably. Finally, Son of the Autumn answered, “They have grown smaller and more fragile since the dawn of our species, but the reason they are still around is… selective reproduction.”

“That’s fair enough,” Calissa stifled a shrug. It wasn’t the strangest thing she’d heard of with a species. Her tablet pinged with a message from Adrian, explaining he was done and had made an interesting discovery. “I’m afraid to cut our meeting short, but our colleague is ready to leave. We can arrange another meeting for the near future, though.”

Son of the Autumn flicked an ear, “This would be most agreeable to us. Our Assembly will reconvene to discuss matters, but a second meeting would be within reason. Hiranai Saithy, could you give them the microdrive with our collective histories?”

Iron Lady of the Mountain, or Hiranai Saithy in their native tongue, did so, but hesitantly, saying, “I hope we do not regret our decision not to curate or censor our history. I understand the galactic stage as you described it is bloody, but I hope the violence we have inflicted on ourselves does not make you think less of us.”

Uril and Theo choked back laughs while Skaarikta fought to keep his feelers still. Calissa, maintaining perfect composure, answered, “You don’t need to worry about that. Every species fears the initial revelation of their own histories to outsiders, including mankind, but the sad truth of the matter is that violence is a more universal language than even mathematics.”

The whole tyiv-Ature’rin delegation seemed to visibly sag with relief at that, despite their bioluminescence shifting back to a shade of pale blue green. Farewells were and promises of future communications were made, and the diplomatic teams parted ways. Skaarikta led the Concord team back through the halls to the waiting shuttle and Adrian, who was practically twitching with eagerness. They remained silent until the airlock door of the station closed behind them, then Theo announced, “That went well.”

“Very well indeed,” Adrian agreed. “Their science team was even more excited to learn from me than I was of them.”

“I can imagine,” Calissa chuckled. “So, what was this interesting discovery you made?”

“Well, we got into discussions beyond anatomy and our base biologies, and began sharing information about the natural histories of our homeworlds. It turns out, their species is exceptionally young.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it appears complex life on their homeworld only emerged two hundred and fifty million years ago.”

Calissa blinked in surprise and Uril asked, “Isn’t the range for sapient life to emerge between five hundred and seven hundred million years?”

“Correct. Life on their world should only be in a Permian or Triassic equivalent - and it isn’t that they just haven’t had mass extinctions, there have been three,” Adrian explained excitedly. “I believe the early and widespread adoption of bioluminescence within their biosphere led to a faster development of complex social behaviors and intelligence. Oh, I can’t wait to study their samples in greater detail!”

“That is an interesting development,” Calissa agreed with his assessment of the situation. “Is there anything else you learned?”

“Yes. Their biologists and paleontologists operate on a baraminological foundation.”

“What,” Skaarikta coughed. “They’re creationists?”

“They are but let me explain - as it also provides possible insight on how they might’ve evolved so quickly,” Adrian began. “And don’t get me wrong - they understand and accept the concepts of evolution and a least universal common ancestor, especially through the other biospheres they’ve encountered. However, they believe their world is unique and, frankly, I agree as it appears there isn’t a LUCA on their homeworld. If they had one, their first adaptive radiation into complex life wouldn’t be equal to a Cambrian Explosion - it would be a Cambrian Supernova. They went from cyanobacteria and other unicellular life to a full, complex ecosystem with aquatic, terrestrial, and aerial life like that,” he snapped his fingers.”

“Why do you think that is?” Calissa asked as the team reclaimed their seats and the shuttle began undocking procedures.

“Much more study is needed, and we need a closer look at their genetic code and their biosphere itself,” Adrian began. “But I’m confident they come from a Seed World.”

CHAPTER 4: Preliminaries

First Previous

The station boardroom was crowded and thick with palpable tension as a dozen and a half people - eight human and four cetuli - waited to be briefed on the situation. It had been several days since the Concord Hyperlight Network was sent into chaos by the unexpected activation of an offline relay from the days of the Solar Order, and though the situation was back under control, investigation was called for and answers needed.

Finally, the unassuming, middle-aged figure of General McComb entered and the attendants rose to salute. “At ease,” he said immediately with a gravel-choked voice. “I don’t need to tell you the circumstances that have brought us to this situation; but we are here to discuss the findings of our survey drone and the next steps.” The wall behind him came to life with the image of Colonial Hyperlight Network Relay Station 1208, along with a small fleet of angular vessels and two vessels attached to the station by umbilical. A second image showed a close up of one of these vessels, revealing a hull covered in intricate patterns and exquisite engravings that made it resemble a work of art as much as a spacefaring vessel. “We received these images alongside a text report from the drone after it had attempted communication with the station’s computer network. In doing so, it identified a foreign software system attached to the server and began investigation of that system when it received a message reading, ‘is anyone out there?’. Following procedures, the drone opened a line of communication to the sender, where a brief back-and-forth confirmed that a non-human civilization was present.”

Several murmurs broke out before Colonel Weathers stood up, “Sir, what do we know of this species? Was this a deliberate attack?”

McComb shook his head, “Little, and no. They call their species ‘They who Sing Across the Snow’ and they appear to be newcomers on the galactic stage who were studying the station to advance their own sciences, and to learn as much as they could about galactic history. The disruption to the Hypernet was unintentionally caused as a result of them bringing the station to full operation in order to reach out to the station’s builders or any other civilizations that have built off the Hypernet.”

“Naive fools,” Colonel Rivera muttered. “What other information do we know about them?”

“As I said: not much. However, they are amicable towards us and are open to further communications. They also offered an apology for any damage done and promised to speak with their government about recompense.”

Brigadier General Aia hooted softly, “Seriously? Recompense?”

McComb nodded, “They are aware they’re dealing with an advanced civilization and are nervous of offending us - though, we have yet to clarify the Solar Order no longer exists. They also have strong cultural beliefs about hospitality and greed and fear we would see the ‘theft’ of the station as both a violation of hospitality and a crime of greed.”

“No harm was meant - and that relay has been abandoned for two millennia,” Aia shrugged her lower arms. “I believe we should forgive them and “gift” them the station. After all, it would serve as a link between them and the Concord Republic.”

This was met with agreements from the attending personnel. “This brings us to the main item of this meeting,” McComb spoke. “Should we arrange a formalized first contact?”

“I believe we should,” Lieutenant General Raemus answered first. “It would be the first step to establishing friendly relations, and Father Sol knows we don’t have enough friends.”

Agreement followed, save for a few dissenting murmurs from the more suspicious elements within the room and Rear Admiral Chauncey asked, “What about their military potential? While I do agree with the lieutenant general, friends don’t mean much if they can’t come to our aid when called.”

“We don’t have any information on that but judging by their recent entrance to the galactic stage, they likely have a small corvette fleet and possibly have begun experimenting with larger ship classes - especially after gaining access to advanced materials,” McComb replied.

“I have an idea,” Aia spoke up. “We have plenty of surplus and obsolete material we can trade to get them up to a technological standard, while still maintaining an edge in case things turn sour.”

This brought mutterings of agreement and disagreement as the idea was discussed before McComb spoke up, “That is something that should wait for an official diplomatic meeting, when we have time to iron out details. This is just first contact.”

“I believe we should move forward,” Rivera spoke up. “Not just in the interest of expanding our power in the sector; but for their own safety. If they’re willing to broadcast their location out into the galaxy, they have no idea what’s going on or how dangerous that is.”

Agreement came from around the table and Raemus proposed, “We should arrange a first contact meeting in Hypernet Station 1208’s system and tell them what preliminary data we are bringing and what they should bring. Namely: a historical synopsis and information regarding basic biology. As they’ve already built a solid translation matrix for at least one human language and have described their atmosphere as similar to ours, language packages and atmospheric samples are lower priority. Though, we will need to get their lexicon in order for non-human diplomats to communicate with them.”

This was met with another chorus of agreement before Chauncey asked, “What ships should be sent on this first contact mission? We don’t want to scare them, but we should show that we aren’t without muscle.”

“I can pull the light carrier Breath in the Veil and six of its escorts,” Rear Admiral Veris offered and was met with no protest.

“Very well, I will inform the Concordant Parliament we have made plans for a first contact mission.”

-Two Days Later-

The Assembly of the Allied States was at a suffocating standstill as it read the message sent by the Concord Republic requesting a formal first contact meeting along with a list of items to bring. All nations had seemingly agreed to put their differences aside for this monumental moment in history, but how long the peace would last remained to be seen.

“We have no reason to trust these strangers with such sensitive information!” argued Jyanai Farusi, one of the Cyrisn representatives. “Who knows what plans they’re concocting which would require information on our history, biology, or atmosphere!”

“Are you genuinely concerned for our people, or just afraid of detailing the truth to anyone?” sneered a representative from the theocratic republic of the Telanai Antir Rinta. “Did you miss the part where the ‘humans’ will be exchanging data on their own species - and of these ‘cetuli’?”

“I hope my brothers forgive me for siding with a casteist, but I agree with the representative of Cyrisn.” Sivelse’hyra, a representative from Valisn, spoke up. “They are technologically superior to us, if their station is anything to go by. They have the ability to hurt us more than we do them.”

“See? Even the utopist agrees with reality!”

“Order!” Shouted the Assembly’s Judiciary, Faenanai She’aiut, adding a reverb using her second larynx. “We are here to discuss matters pertaining to all of the tyiv-Ature’rin people - not throw petty insults.”

“They haven’t shown any hostility,” Valelse’kalet, a representative from Charestis, pointed out. “Even when we disrupted their network, they seemed more annoyed than angry. They also gave us permission to continue studying the station. They have offered nothing but kindness, we have no reason to view them with suspicion.”

Sivelsi Karith, another representative of the Telanai Antir Rinta, spoke in agreement, “I can respect erring on the side of caution, but we cannot let paranoia cloud our judgement. How long have we dreamed of this moment in our history? Were we not in unanimous agreement to send out exploration teams and that signal to find the answer to the question of whether we are alone or not? Yet now, when that question is answered and those others among the stars reach out to know us, we withdraw our hand in fear? If we let fear of what may be prevent us from striving for what could be, would we have ever lit the first torches to fight back the Howling Cold? I do not believe we should retreat into the darkness of our ancestors’ caves at the first sign of a chill wind - not when the coming summer seems oh so bountiful. If they are as technologically advanced as we believe, they would not need to play these games or give us any consideration. They would conquer us with barely any effort and worry about our thoughts on the matter when it conveniences them. I choose to believe in the peaceful intentions of the Concord Republic when they have shown no sign of bared knife-teeth or deceit; so much so I personally volunteer as representative for the Telanai Antir Rinta in this first contact mission. If I am wrong, it will be my life on the line.”

Muttering broke out among the communist bloc as the representatives of Valisn and the Saithy Rinta argued, while Jyanai Farusi chuffed derisively, “Leave it to the sunworshipper to-” before her mic was muted.

“I already warned you there would be no insults in this Assembly,” the Judiciary growled. “I will unmute you when you are ready to be part of a productive dialogue.”

The Cyrisn representative glowered but merely flicked an ear in contempt. Another representative, Sivtelelsi Sha, spoke in her place, “I believe what my colleague was trying to say was that we shouldn’t let optimism cloud our judgement. But I do not agree, nor do I believe we should stumble forward with a blind optimism. This is the future of our entire species we are discussing here, and we should approach it with a healthy hope for what may come; but we cannot lose sight of the potential danger. I will also volunteer to join a first contact meeting, but I have a proposal: in order to show we are not without sharpened knife-teeth, we must reinforce the fleet in-system with an additional armada. In addition, I believe there is no better mission to be the maiden voyage of the Shield of Turrin.” This brought the rest of the Cyrisn representation into an argument as Sivtelelsi Shais and Jyanai Farusi stared each other down in challenge.

“Before we start assigning the representatives who will meet these aliens,” Faenanai She’ael sighed. “We ought to put the motion forward of actually having this first contact meeting in the first place.” She quickly typed out a proposal and moved it forward to be put to vote. Though each of the five supernations were allowed a team of eleven representatives to provide a voice to every corner of their territories, each was only permitted a single vote. The votes for Charestis and the Telanai Antir Rinta came in early, both in approval. The Saithy Rinta followed after several minutes, but a passing motion required a four-fifths majority. Cyrisn abstained through deadlock - a rarity demonstrating the confusion within the upper echelons of the totalitarian regime - leaving the vote down to Valisn. They argued among themselves for almost half an hour before, almost reluctantly, casting their vote.

“By a passing vote of four and one abstain,” the Judiciary robotically intoned. “This Assembly has decided to carry on with first contact. As a following motion, we will now vote on the proposal put forward by the honorable representative of Cyrisn to reinforce the fleet in the system where this meeting will be carried out.”

-One Week Later-

Sivelsi Karith stepped out of the thick hull of In Her Warm Embrace into the thin umbilical connecting the ship to the ancient Hypernet station. He greeted the station’s staff with warmth and blessings before following one of the leading archivists. “How much time until the meeting?” he asked.

“A few hours,” she answered. “You’re the first of the diplomatic team to arrive, but we got word the rest of the team arrived while your ship was docking, so they should arrive shortly.”

“Excellent. Would you mind if we discussed matters in the lounge? I could go for a cup of taruvi.”

“Of course, I imagine that’s why you traveled separately?”

“It is. I was hoping to get as full a verse as possible of our guests before they arrive.”

She sighed despondently, “I’ll tell you as much as I can, but unfortunately there’s not much that wouldn’t already be in the briefing, or that’s already public information.”

“Why don’t we start with the Concord Republic itself,” Sivelsi Karith offered. “What is it like?”

“Well, the handful of text messages we’ve had with them aren’t exactly a completed song; but they appear to be a remnant of the fallen Solar Order, rather than a rebel or secessionist splinter,” the archivist began. “We’ve gathered that they’re a local power - if not the local power, and they seek to expand their influence and reach.”

Sivelsi Karith started glowing a sky blue in concern at the last piece, “And how do they seek to expand their influence?”

“They do have a preference for alliances and diplomacy and would rather hold their military in reserve for defense,” she hesitated before starting to glow blue and quietly adding. “I don’t know for certain, but from what our technicians have gathered, the local galactic region isn’t exactly stable.”

“Hopefully they’ll be willing to clarify the situation,” he felt himself burning brighter as his concern grew. “Who are the cetuli? They’ve been mentioned several times, but there’s even less to go off of with them from what I’ve gathered.”

“Well, you’re right that there’s not much,” she started. “They’re a second alien species within the Concord Republic - willing members, before you ask - but that’s about it, we don’t have any information on their independent place in galactic politics.”

They’d arrived at the crew lounge - the station’s cafeteria, cleaned up and redecorated so that the grisly mess left by the previous human crew seemed like it never happened. The archivist started on the taruvi while Sivelsi Karith took a seat and absorbed his surroundings for the first time since entering the station. After a moment he asked, “What other species are in their republic?”

“A couple, actually. The karroofa and nitrigat. The karroofa is a species that seems to have very close ties to humanity, but we don’t have much more than that,” she finished the taruvi and sat down across from the representative.

“Thank you, miss… I am so sorry, I never got your name,” Sivelsi Karith said, his whiskers glowing pale blue in embarrassment.

“Anae’thyun ‘etec’Acraelni,” she provided. “Assistant Director of Archival Curation.”

“Thank you, Assistant Director ‘etec’Acraelni,” he said before taking a sip from his drink. “What about the nitrigat?”

“The nitrigat seem to be in a similar position as the cetuli - members, but no significant independent role. Although, they’ve barely come up, even compared to the other two, so I’m unsure of their significance.”

They continued to discuss matters for a short time, until Anae’thyun ran out of pertinent information. Then, their conversation shifted to politics and the fears of a brewing war, which brought up a disconcerting topic. “What do you think the Concord Republic will do if we fall into war?” Sivelsi Karith asked, glowing a concerned pale blue.

“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s something only they could answer, but their primary concerns seem to be maintaining stability and bringing order to local space.”

“‘Bringing order’?”

“Yes. Like I said earlier, what information we’ve gotten about our interstellar neighborhood doesn’t make a good carving.”

The rest of the diplomats arrived shortly after, and Anae’thyun debriefed the four on the Concord Republic as well as she could. None of them were happy with how little there actually was, all of them hoping for more tangible information they could use. But they didn’t raise much of a fuss as Sivtelelsi Sha reminded them that this meeting was supposed to provide them with that information. Then, the topic steadily drifted back to the possibility of conflict.

“It pains me to say this,” Sivelsi Karith said after allowing the discussion to carry for some time. “But, I believe it may be time for us to yield our national sovereignty. We simply cannot afford this divisiveness - not with how small we are and with how the local region has been described to us. If we descend into conflict, we not only put ourselves at a vulnerability, but the Concord Republic may intervene to impose the order they seek to maintain.”

“And who should we yield our authority to,” Hiranai Saithy, the representative of Valisn challenged. “You? As if we would surrender the Peoples’ Will to a rabble of religious nuts.”

“Think with your brain for once, utopist idealogue,” Sivtelelsi Sha snapped, surprising Sivelsi Karith. “We would expand the power of the Assembly and build a legal framework to give the Allied States real authority over our nations. And frankly, I agree with Representative Varshoun - this is far bigger than any one of our nations and we must put the tyiv-Ature’rin people ahead of our differences.”

Sivelsi Karith blinked as the rest of the representatives looked on in surprise that a representative of Cyrisn would suggest surrendering their Hegemon’s authority. “Thank you, I wasn’t expecting Cyrisn to be in agreement.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sivtelelsi Sha chuffed. “I despise your chaotic ideology which perverts the tenets of our Divine Lady into political dogma, but I can see the engravings on the wall. Whether the rest of Cyrisn does remains to be seen, but it was built on a philosophy of rapid adaptation and I am confident the Hegemon will see reason.”

Ikaranai Ayieg of Charestis chuffed, “That’s a funny way of describing your tyrannical warlords.”

Before Sivtelelsi Sha could respond, a technician rushed in, her stripes flashing bright blue in panic, “We’re picking up a massive subspace bubble in-system!”

“They’re early, but I don’t see the need for panic,” Sivelsi Karith tried to calm her down.

“No, you don’t understand - the bubble is so large it suggests a ship dozens of kilometers in size!”

That got everyone’s attention as the room began blazing blue with everyone’s fear. Were they wrong about the Concord Republic? “Take us to the observation room,” Arkoelse’rin, the representative of the Saithy Rinta, demanded.

They rushed through the halls, arriving at a room filled with monitors and computer towers, most of them displaying information indecipherable to the diplomats. Following the design philosophy of a military vessel, it was a windowless room which took up no more space than necessary within the interior of the station which relied on cameras and sensors to provide views into the stars instead of anything as comforting as a window. On the monitors displaying the void, all were focused on a single point in the system. Sivelsi Karith had never seen what it looked like as a starship exited the pocket dimension it used to travel faster-than-light back into reality, but the sight was unmistakable as anything else. His eyes hurt as nauseating vertigo nearly overwhelmed him while he watched reality itself warp and bulge, pushing gas and space debris away from a central point. The universe seemed to stretch to a breaking point before the bubble melted, revealing what it contained.

“H-how did they manage to get multiple ships inside of a single bubble?” the technician who collected them breathed.

Tyiv-Ature’rin FTL had thus far only managed to bubble around a single vessel. Even to the untrained minds of the diplomats, they could understand the logistical and military benefits of getting an entire fleet to move as one. The ships contained within the bubble were no less impressive than that feat, however. Four of the vessels were half a kilometer in length and likely of similar armor and tonnage to a corvette. Two of them were a full kilometer - roughly the size of a light freighter or the Shield of Turrin, but no doubt much more armed and armored. All of them were built like bricks bristling with sensor towers along the top and bottom and covered in obscene quantities of turrets and broadsides, with the prow of the vessels clearly housing a massive weapon.

The last, however, was a three-kilometer titan far bigger than anything the tyiv-Ature’rin have yet produced. It featured more sensors and less turrets than the other vessels while lacking the prow battery, but its nature was quickly revealed as dozens smaller craft similar to voidfighter jets and drone swarms began exiting from multiple hangers.

“A voidcarrier,” the technician gasped. “The production logistics, the life support, the cargo space and power supply… I thought they were just theoretical.”

“Well, they’re possible,” Sivelsi Karith said dryly. “The question is why they brought so much firepower on a diplomatic mission.”

“Same reason we reinforced the defense fleet,” Sivtelelsi Sha offered. “To prove a point. We wanted to show we’re capable of hurting them; they want to prove they could crush us if we don’t play nice.”

“Well, I’d say they proved it,” Ikaranai Ayieg chuffed nervously.

A beeping started from one of the workstations in the room, and the tech sitting at it reported, “We’re being hailed.”

Next

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Story so Far:

• The Whales battle a Lifebane Titan
• The mice intercept giant insects known as "crystoliths" trying to capitalize on the distraction. Seeing their numbers, the mice get straight to business and engage in chemical and guerrilla warfare,

___

Ingrid then was flung backwards, hundreds of feet away onto the opposite wall.

Everyone quickly scrambled away as the Lifebane Titan had risen once more. A violent maelstrom of aura wreathed its entire body like a golden flame.

"Viel!" Kvaris yelled. Viel was breathing heavily.

"It won't..." she was panting now. "It's beyond saving itself now." the ciltran girl said as she collapsed against Iohann's lap.

__

Ingrid slowly looked up from the Ingrid-shaped hole she made on the wall. The aura-clad titan looked in her eyes what she probably thought what sapient sauropods thought their deities might look like, its battered body notwithstanding. It was galloping at her with a speed that would have been thought impossible for a creature so massive. As it barreled its way towards her its back-sails let out a barrage of colossal bolts of energy.

"Starchaser, its rampaging on its last legs,finish that bastard off!" Philia yelled down the radio.

Ingrid leapt from one bolt of raw magic onto another, each one as big as a bus and faster than a speeding bullet. Time seemed to slow around Ingrid as she flowed her mana into her nervous system, perceiving everything around her moving so slowly. Each bus-sized bolt she leapt from collapsed onto itself, expanding into a sparkling nebula of ether before accelerating around her despite everything moving to a crawl.

Leaping from the last bolt, Ingrid launched herself at the titan, its ruined eyes replaced by glowing orbs that allowed it to see one last time, focusing on her as its sole enemy. Even with her moving so fast she could see the beast's expression slowly contort as it realized that she had closed the gap.

Ingrid twisted her body, performing one devastating mid-air kick after another. The Ether coalescing around her body created the image of a huge knight with a literal huge fiery mane of red hair armed with a massive sword. Each swing of his sword mimicked the arc of Ingrid's kicks, each attack releasing an even larger crescent shockwave that passed through the titan’s body.

“Excalibur!” Ingrid yelled, the majestic eidolon of the knight finishing the combo with a dramatic downward slash as Ingrid performed a mid-air bicycle kick.

The Lifebane Titan's aura dissipated as it crashed to the floor one last time. As its mana-generated eyes began to flicker and its vision began to fade, its colossal head was the last to hit the floor.

On its way down, it saw Cecil and Ralph.

"Hi!" the slime said one last time as Ralph pulled the trigger, the RPG round accelerating its final faceplant.

___

Elsewhere:

The courtyard of the Storm Gate Fortress of Teth-Odin was bustling with activity. Along the rows of restaurant stalls, a stoic rhinoceros and his boar companion were enjoying their meal of steamed noodles in a hearty broth.

They remained unfazed by the series of tremors that rumbled beneath them, attributing the disturbance to Siria and her entourage encountering a formidable creature or a pack of particularly powerful beasts. Without a doubt, monsters disgorged from some fell Riftworld that had been a thorn on the side of everyone ever since it had manifested after the Red Moon.

"It's been quiet for quite a while now." The boar said, slurping his noodles.

The rhino looked up from his steaming bowl, "Mm-hmm. You suppose that was the King Below?"

The boar loud an amused, porky snort "I wouldn’t be surprised."

The rhino nodded in agreement, holding up a finger. The gnu chef let out bovine grunt in approval before serving him a second helping.

"If that rabble kept up I was going to suggest we go down and silence that ruckus ourselves." The boar grumbled "these noodles are too delicious to spill a single drop of broth at."

The gnu chef chuckled in the background.

"Patience, Bart," the rhino said, gesturing at the walkie-talkie that Ingrid gave them. "We need to wait for the little fiend to give us the word. They found the rift."

Bart Smith grunted, eyeing the little black box with suspicion. "You better, fiend. Siria's life is at stake below."

"O-of course I will!" Neith snapped, changing her voice into one of a Saturday morning cartoon villain. Rather than reveal that the walkie-talkie was a technological device that facilitated distant communication, Ingrid had explained to them that it was a little box that contained "a nasty little fiend sealed within" and warned them to neither attempt to open the box or douse it with water, under the threat of releasing the vile entity. To keep up the facade, Neith spoke to them using that cartoon voice, occasionally uttering threats of what it would do once it had escaped.

Both men met the little imp's threats with levity; for when Ingrid introduced the device to them, Siria (playing along,) warned the imp to not betray them or it would face the rest of its existence inside that little box, forever imprisoned.

“Rhamad, Bart.” Neith said in her little imp voice. “The King Below is no more.”

The rhino shrugged and paid ten gold coins to his boar friend.

"The Rogue Rift has been found. it's right in the middle of the Titan Cage."

The boar let out an agitated growl "Finally, we will rid the dungeons of that detestable rift."

Rhamad however, remained cautious. "Let me speak to Siria."

___

In a redoubt near the Titan Cage, most of the Whales were sprawled on the floor, the massive fight with the Lifebane Titan and its impromptu crystolith allies, the strain of item boxing so much loot had worn everyone down. Ingrid was encased in a large formation of ice, the cold embrace slowly restoring her mana.

"We took quite a beating down here." Siria replied to Rhamad. "And yes, the Lifebane Titan, we killed it.."

Rhamad was quiet, digesting the information, Neith decided to spice things up as well as maintain the charade.

"Enough Siria! Release me already!"

"If we did, you'll just make that box explode with all your stored magic inside." Philia said, cryptically hinting at the Semtex she had crammed in every possible cavity of the device "Don't think we've forgotten your little schemes."

"Grrrr!" Neith growled.

"Anyway," Siria continued "Spread the word, and attack the Rift at your discretion. We on the other hand..." she paused to glance at her team. "We're going to need a few hours to recover."

"Take me back to Siria!" Neith hissed angrily "Our deal is done here!"

"Oh yeah..." Siria said, putting on the facade of disinterest as if taunting "the imp" about not upholding her bargain. "If you folks are coming over, do hand me back that imp. I need to reinforce the seal on that box..."

"We shall." Rhamad told her.

"No! Nooo!" Neith yelled, subtly altering her voice to sound almost like Eric Cartman. Philia chuckled, seeing how well Siria used some interesting reverse psychology to ensure their walkie-talkie would be returned to them without fail.

As the walkie-talkie made a beep sound to indicate that the lines were now closed. Philia and Cecil burst laughing.

"Dammit, Neith!" Cecil chortled "If I wasn't a slime my drink would've come out of my nose!"

"Well aren't you glad you are a slime!" Neith chided him, synthesizing from her speakers a perfect Eric Cartman impression.

All the mice but Ralph had entered Cecil's room, industriously cleaning their guns and refilling their ammo, preparing for the next battle. Cuddly was sprawled atop Viel, wheeking softly and happily as the ciltran girl petted her, while Peanut was being cuddled by Kvaris and Kinu who were napping together atop an inflatable mattress.

Johnny was wriggling happily as he wandered up and down the redoubt chamber, clambering up the walls and crawling upside-down the ceiling with ease.

Philia sighed "No hiding it now, this party killed a Titan. They're gonna know we pack quite a punch."

Cecil chuckled “What? Is some obnoxious aristocrat gonna ask us to join his entourage? Be his hired goons?”

Siria sighed “A possibility, yes. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to pay a visit to some local lord to be his errand girl in exchange for some status I don’t want.”

Philia waved her hand dismissively “Took care of it a long time ago.”

“How?” Cecil swivelled his portal to face her.

“Prime Minister Thalassar’s got Crows, his spies, busily collecting information up and down the kingdom. Your usual CIA outfit.” Philia began, finishing the last of her ale, delightfully chilled from sitting in Cecil’s refrigerator for hours. “It’s only a matter of time they start sniffing around, that Red Moon incident and how Ingrid basically carried the whole battle can’t remain a secret for too long, people are going to talk.”

Philia began removing the metal bits of her armor, so she could comfortably lie down on her own inflatable mattress.

“Therefore,” she continued, “the best way to shut down annoying nobles from making us their thugs is to nip the problem right in the bud, we’ll get the King to ask us to pay a visit.” She made a gun motion at Cecil for emphasis.

“And then what?” Cecil queried, hovering down to take her empty ale jug and cup “You know Ingrid’s not gonna like that. We're not gonna be royal errand boys, and we're definitely not gonna attend discount Hogwarts!"

"I don't know what that is, but it sounds horrible." Kvaris remarked, stirring from her sleep and cuddling Peanut. The little mushroom murmured in her sleep and hugged back, making cute sounds.

"We won't." Philia said reassuringly, reclining on her air mattress, "I've already taken steps to ensure that won't happen."

"How?" Cecil leaned forward curiously.

Philia stretched and wiggled her legs, yawning. "Because, prior to faking my death, I wasn't just king Raldia Elion-Nosco's daughter, I had an actual position as one of his higher ministers. You remember how Caligula made his horse a senator just to spite his ministers? Well, I wasn't just any horse, I was that kingdom's dark horse. Truth be told, I was neither trying to make Elion-Nosco a better place since that was utterly pointless, nor was I genuinely advancing that kingdom's ability to make itself stronger. I took that position just so I could do some good old money-laundering to enact Operation Runaway."

Philia shifted a little, yawning.

Gwen took over for her "Allow me to explain. Had Miss Philia not faked her death and simply defected here to Veles, king Raldia would use it as pretext for war. His gullible citizens would buy his story that she was a victim to some Velesian trickery and would clamor for conscription, demanding their 'beloved princess' back. That said, now that Miss Philia faked her death, if the King of Veles adds her to his court, it would only make him look like the mastermind behind the fire at the Old Palace of Elion-Nosco. Again, another pretext to war that Raldia would eagerly exploit."

The princess' smile got only wider, flashing her teeth like a predator showing its fangs.

"Keikaku Doori," she declared, "They can't take us."

“What if the King just hides you?” Cecil asked.

Philia laughed out loud. “The outcome will be unchanged," she asserted. “Plus, it’s bad PR hiding me from view like an embarrassing guest, His Majesty would be no different from Raldia.”

"Why don't we write a letter to the king now?" Cecil suggested, "That way we could head off some greasy nobleman's talent scouts."

"Oh Cecil," Philia scoffed, "if they were real talent scouts, I assure you, Ingrid would elbow her way for a bikini photoshoot, no questions asked. But yeah, let's have Ingrid write the letter since she's the leader after all. It's crucial that we impress on them that she is our head honcho, and not Siria, whom the Crows might mistakenly identify as such if they've noticed us."

Cecil glanced at Ingrid, still frozen in her rejuvenating ice. "Yeah, let's wait till she finishes stewing there." he said ironically.

"There's also the possibility they've already written a report to Thalassar or someone a few desks down the factually unnecessarily long bureaucracy conga line," Philia yawned. "But yes, it's a good idea to have Ingrid write one. Finally, we can make good use of that printer, and thank God for PDF formats."

“Alright then.” Cecil said, settling on a corner. Turning to the mice he called out to them “Guys! Hurry that up so you can take your siesta too, we’re Oscar-Mike in a few hours!”

The mice excitedly squeaked a reply and resumed their work.

Siria looked around, the rest of the party who were still awake were making themselves comfortable before they too settled into their siesta. Cecil has angled his indoor portal so it now had a patch of sunlight from his balcony shining on the floor, which Johnny and Selphie snuggled into, being plants.

A wall of sandbags shielded the party, taken from Cecil’s room just as a precaution in case something, or someone with ranged capabilities barged in and started assaulting the party from a distance. Rhamad had been warned that they needed to announce their presence before entering the Redoubt, citing it had been booby-trapped and required the Whales to disengage them.

Siria yawned and settled down as well, the elf smiling as Philia stirred in her sleep and glomped her.

___

Autumnhollow:

"Welp, this is going to be like watching paint dry." Zefir said wryly. "What sort of unnecessary protocols do we need to observe in the King's castle, Gwen?"

Gwen's ears wiggled as she jogged her memory.

"We could just have Ingrid go there herself." The ciltran maid responded, stretching. "The journey from Teth-Odin to the royal capital takes about two weeks by horse, the ATV would make it faster indeed, but if we can limit our presence to just Ingrid and Cecil and the rest of us stay here in Autumnhollow and use a computer, it'll lessen the pressure on us being part of his... as you say, royal lackeys."

"Hold on a sec, Gwen." Zefir said, waving his arms. "You're forgetting something. There's a limit to the range our ability to communicate goes. Either someone needs to enchant our devices or we have some infrastructure to carry that signal across such big distances..."

Gwen thought for a moment

“This might be a little technical, Glados, play me some Tchaikovsky.” she said.

“Conversation muted.” Neith replied.

Gwen turned around to face Zefir and took a deep breath.

"Miss Philia already answered that problem..."

___

Years Ago,in the palace of Elion-Nosco:

"No, we can't." A young Philia said, "We're not giving an inch of Elion-Nosco soil to Freid, that's final."

King Raldia grudgingly eyed his daughter with admiration, she had become his impromptu adviser since the previous one had betrayed him. She was young, but somehow she had wiped out a whole section of enemies without committing any soldiers in the field.

"I'll take care of it, I'll just take Aymon and a few merchants with me and in a few days the south-west border will be back to pruning their trees for fruit."

"You're the king's adviser, Philia!" snapped one minister "this isn't the time for you to play pretend-knight!"

Philia's wide grin was disturbing. For a moment everyone thought the human was going to become feral and pounce on them, but she remained seated. "I'm not playing knight, minister. I'm playing Philia. Besides..." she rose from her seat and saunted out of the room "...shouldn't you be arguing over who gets to take my place if I suddenly die?"

Raldia was impassive as his daughter sauntered the room, he remained unflappable as his ministers barraged him with questions regarding the invasion that was sure to come on their borders.

"Your grace!" said one minister, "bastard daughter or no, she is the princess, no Elion-Noscoite royal can afford to be taken prisoner!"

"But they can afford to be killed in battle, no?" Raldia said coldly, his eyes glinting, "Send some men to follow her and dispose of her if the situation becomes untenable..."

Outside the room, Philia continued to walk with a grin, the bickering inside the Raldia's war room carrying on perfectly through the bugged chandelier and into her concealed earpiece.

"King Fish to Maid One." Philia said softly as she made her way downstairs.

"Maid One here, Pointy-Ears is unresponsive... is he...?"

"Dead? No." Philia grinned as she waved past a few more ministers. They ignored her, but it was important to keep that "please love me" facade of hers. The more they ignored her, the more she could carry on her secret projects in peace.

"Increase the dosage on him and keep asking him who he gave the Scroll of Temblor to. His mind's frazzled right now, so be sure that recorder is on."

In Philia’s chamber, Aymon's eyes were glazed over as the drugs took effect, his mind racing through a whirlwind of confusion and pain. Gwen leaned over him, trying her best to see if he could reach deep within that jumble of memories to find the crucial information they needed. Despite lying on a daybed, he felt as though he were upright, floating a few inches above the floor, with his feet feeling unsteady despite their firm contact with the plush upholstery beneath him.

At a table behind his head, an imp imprisoned in a little box continued to utter banal chants in duress, yet every utterance felt like a veiled threat of what it would do once it was released.

“Five…Eighty-Four…Sixty-Seven…” the imp hissed menacingly.

"The city of Shihno, three years ago... you were there with us, you accompanied Miss Philia and me to obtain the Scroll of Temblor from that city. We went to the mayor’s house for a ball, it was in your possession then, what happened to it?"

"Yes..." the elf sighed in response "...we were giving the mayor a..."

"Aymon?" Philia asked, looking up at him curiously. She was covered in head-to-toe in black and wore an unsettling mask that made her look like an upright ant-eater covered in leather. "You looked like you dozed off for a second there." she said, her voice slightly muffled by her grotesque mask.

"Sorry, your grace!" The elf apologized, he nearly stumbled as he found himself standing.

"Tighten that mask, Aymon. We don't need you coughing up and dying so soon." Crotad said gruffy, tightening his own.

The four of them had stacked up by a pair of double doors leading to a ballroom beyond. The clinking of glasses, the excited chatter of guests, as well as the strings of a quartet played faintly in the background. "Keep your head on, Aymon." Philia said adjusting her mask "The Scroll of Temblor’s here somewhere, we’ll find it."

"Yes, your grace."

Gwen looked at him with a hint of concern then shrugged.

The door flew open with a hard kick by Crotad, the guests had barely enough time to act when the four of them opened fire at the assembly, screams of panic echoed as the bullets tore through the masquerade party.

Aymon's hands were steady as he fired his "Emm-Sixty" into the crowd, mowing them as easily as a scythe against dried wheat.

"[This noise is going to attract every city guard and knight from miles around!]" Crotad yelled in Velesian over the din, but the thrill of the destruction his machine gun wrought was undeniably exciting.

"[Good!]" Philia replied, "[Everyone's invited to the party!]"

The four of them made their way down the ballroom, in seemingly no hurry. Predictably the guards of the manor burst through but were no match for the quartet armed with heavy machine guns.

"[They'll get their mages soon, once they find steel to be of no use.]" Gwen warned Philia.

"[Perfect.]" Philia replied "[Spares us the trouble of looking for them.]"

The four of them heard footsteps stampeding down the corridor, a squad of guards and knights in full plate armor rushing to their aid. Philia wordlessly pointed and Gwen quickly turned to engage them, firing in controlled bursts, effortlessly taking them out wholesale.

The four of them stepped out into the grand hall of the mansion where it was utter pandemonium inside as people were scrambling away.

"[Pick them off with single shots.]" Philia said as they opened fire on the guests.

The carnage was unreal, blood painted the walls, chandeliers swung on their chains, their light glinting off the pools of crimson forming on the floor. The quartet moved methodically through the room, slaughtering everyone in their path. Would-be saviors drawing their swords or reaching for their staves were quickly shot in the head by Philia, stopping them cold.

"[Time to make everyone hurry up.]" Philia said, pointing at Aymon she ordered. "[Do it.]"

Automatically, Aymon dropped to one knee and took off his backpack, producing from it a big black switch box. Despite his efficient movements, his hands were uncontrollably shaking, and his legs felt like they would give away, yet they held. The bloodshed was unreal yet somehow his body was guided by the God of Courage itself. With trembling hands he flipped the switch.

Another chorus of screams rang out, this time from outside the mansion as explosions rocked the exterior of the mansion.

"[Veles says hello.]" Philia told the frightened survivors, before motioning for Crotad to kick the door.

A sickly yellow-green fog filled the air, causing everyone to cough and choke, before the deadly nerve gas introduced further symptoms. Only the quartet from Elion-Nosco were unaffected thanks to their hazmat suits and gas masks as they carefully made their way out of the mansion, the guards were rapidly succumbing to the toxic cloud, rapidly losing consciousness as their bodies twitched and spasmed.

The chaos outside was a symphony of panic as people ran away in fright, screaming.

"[Where to?]" Crotad asked as they slowed down to almost a leisurely pace,

"[Extraction.]" Philia said as the town's bells rang. "[We're about to lose our welcome.]"

As they headed down the Noble's District they once again encountered the city guard, but their fine armor was no match against high-caliber rounds, slaughtering them before they could make use of their finely-crafted swords.

Meanwhile, fires had spread from the mansion and were now engulfing the surrounding neighborhood.

"[Deploy]" Philia ordered, and Aymon once again reached into his pack and produced a canister. He unscrewed the lid and threw it on the floor, unleashing more of the vile nerve gas into the air.

"Tell me!" Gwen urged, getting up from her chair, a cold breeze blew through the parlor of the Old Palace. Shuddering, she quickly walked over to close the window.

"You were there with us.” Gwen said, sitting back on her plushy chair. “What was in that canister?"

The elf's eyes rolled at the back of his head, his limbs flailed a bit, finding himself back in Philia’s room, lying on the daybed.

"VX, Philia put VX in that canister as well as generic green mist so it was easy to see where it would spread."

"You put scrolls in a canister!" Gwen asked, shaking his shoulder "Where did you leave that Scroll of Temblor?"

"[Get up!]" Philia yelled, shaking him awake . "[On your feet, soldier, we are leaving!**]"

Aymon shook himself and took the little girl's hand. Despite being the smallest of the group, Philia easily hauled him back on his feet. The wooden floor underneath them shook as the burning building took another hit.

“[Keep every pint of your blood in, Pointy-Ears!]” Philia shouted over the din, “[Only you can get that Scroll of Temblor working!]”

There was a rumbling below as the knights outside were smashing the door downstairs with a battering ram.

"[It won't take them long before they realize they can't smoke us out!]" Gwen said, peeking through the window, she quickly dodged as another magic missile streaked through the air and tore a hole through the ceiling, showering them with splinters. In retaliation, the cilran quickly peeked out and opened fire on the city guard below, catching them off guard as a storm of bullets shredded their bodies.

"[Chief!]" the orc yelled,"[I see a way out!]"

"[Pointy-Ears, get a feather fall on that back alley now! Move!]" Philia barked, elbowing Aymon in the ribs. The elf stumbled and quickly peeked out of the window, he needed to maintain visual contact as he began chanting.

"[Is it that high? Can't we just jump?]” Philia said, a gaggle of knights burst through their staircase below and Philia let loose another burst of gunfire at them. She threw a grenade down for good measure.

"It's a five storey drop!" Aymon protested, sitting up from his bed.

Gwen however, was pacing the parlor back and forth, the air was nice and clean again, not like the gas mask that was on his face earlier that put all the fruits of his exertions back at him. The maid was talking to nobody but had a finger behind one ear.

"No, he’s having trouble remembering the events of the brewery." Gwen said, looking at Aymon who had sat up in his bed. “He says we had to feather fall out of there, but you just jumped into a hay bale.”

"Hartpenny!" The elf shouted, disoriented at his sudden shift of surroundings. "What's going on here? What was I remembering? What did we do? Who were those people!? Th-they were speaking Freid..." the elf clutched his head. The visions were so vivid he could smell the smoke through his mask, and the weight of the masheen- what was he holding? It was heavy like a club, but he wasn’t swinging it around.

Seeing the elf having the telltale headaches, Gwen remembered Philia’s advice. Act Natural. Act angry.

"That's what I'm asking you!" Gwen said, hoping the unexpected anger would turn his thoughts elsewhere. "The Scroll of Temblor! Who did you give the scroll to?"

"I..." the elf stammered, trying to rack his brain for memories he wasn't sure he had... "I don't remember a scroll!"

There was a sigh somewhere in the room as Philia entered.

"My lord father's assigned me to take care of the incoming invasion by Freid." Philia said dejectedly as she slumped on a couch. "If they get that scroll, Aymon, there won't be an Elion-Nosco for us to be executed in..."

Gwen saw the elf's shoulders droop in defeat, in frustration, Philia got up and kicked a chair.

"What did you do, Aymon!?" Philia yelled, running up to him and shaking his shoulders "Who cast a spell on you that you can't remember!?"

"I-I don't know!" Aymon said, his eyes wide with fear, "I-I don't know what happened!"

“Ninety-Six, Twelve, Eight.” the little imp in the background hissed, as if taunting Aymon of his stolen memories.

“Silence imp!” Aymon cried “Stop speaking in numbers!”

___

Read Starchaser: Beyond ~ Autumnhollow Chronicles at RoyalRoad!

INDEX: The Whales Party Sheet 

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The music played in the background in a language I couldn’t understand—a cheerful, upbeat tune. I looked at myself in the mirror, discovering the man with long, greasy hair, one movement of the hair trimmer at a time.

“Uh, not bad. A bald head suits me.” I mumbled, winking at the reflection.

Hair filled the sink, the trimmer revealing pale skin underneath all that mess I’d just removed. I turned my head towards the video playing on the small floating screen to my left, another man like myself, though much more dapper than I, talking about different ways to style one’s beard.

“Should I shave it off too?” The thought crossed my mind, as I moved my head from left to right, checking out the beard to see what I’ve got to work with.

“A ducktail is a style popular for a lot of men with thick beards, who prefer to maintain a long beard… Works well with a narrow head shape.” The guy in the video prattled on.

“Is my head narrow? I don’t think so. Fuck it, I’ll give the look a try, can always shave it all off if it sucks.” I decided, following the video tutorial closely, working my greasy and wild beard into a more refined and elegant shape.

“A gentleman, if ever I’ve seen one.” I smiled at the reflection.

I took a step back, looking over the entire body in the mirror as if checking a newly purchased item. Tall, definitely too skinny for my liking, but what else to expect from a junkie. There was work to be had, but I wasn’t too dissatisfied. I lifted my arm, sniffing under it before frowning.
“Ugh, you need a bath buddy. I smell like ass.”

Before I could get into the shower, the doorbell rang.
“Pizza delivery!” Came a voice from the other side of the door.

“Oh boy!” I rushed to the door, which wasn’t far from the bathroom. My apartment was small. Bed, kitchen, bathroom, it was all in the living room. No balcony to speak of. I kicked empty pizza boxes that littered the floor on my way to the door. Pizza was great. So many different flavours. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff, already eaten through 5 boxes since I got home last night. I could eat it forever and never get tired of it.

The front door slid open with a beep, and my ecstatic expression at the thought of pizza was greeted by the barrel of a handgun pointed right at me.

“Pizza?” I asked, looking at the mechanical individual standing at the door, but couldn’t notice any pizza boxes on him.

“No pizza, bitch. But you know what this is?” he said, tilting the gun to the side a bit so I could get a better look at it.
“That’s right. An atomizer. One shot from this bad boy and there won’t be even a spec of you left to divide.”

I looked at him a while longer, this time actually paying attention to the details of his clothes and appearance.
“Ah, you’re a Zailurian.”

He kept his gun pointed at my face as it scanned me. A moment of silence passed before the weapon beeped and a surprised look arose on his robotic face.
“You’re human? Bullshit.” the man mumbled, reinitiating the scan.

Another minute went by, and the same result came up on the weapon’s display again, causing him to look even more stumped than the first time. Before he could say anything else, the elevator dinged from down the hall, the pizza delivery drone exiting once the doors opened and heading our way.

“Yay, the pizza’s here.” I clapped my hands together and pushed past the man in front of me to take several pizza boxes from the drone.

“How do you have money for that?” the Zailuran asked, lowering his weapon halfway to conceal it from the pizza drone.

“Beats me. I just yell ‘pizza’ at that floating screen over there and pizza arrives shortly after. They never asked me to pay.” I reply, walking back inside.
“Don’t just stand there, come on it. Help yourself to some pizza, while I finish cleaning this body up.”

The mechanical stranger walked inside my apartment after me. He pushed some boxes from the couch in the corner and sat down.
“So, where are you?”

I put the pizza boxes on the cluttered coffee table, immediately opening a box and pulling out a slice.
“Fuck, this is amazing.”

My attention was diverted to him again once the door automatically closed. With my free hand, I slapped my bald head.
“I’m in here.”

The was a long pause between the two of us, him sitting and looking at me while I gorged myself on slice after slice, letting out a few moans of delight every once in a while.
After the first box was empty, I stopped and looked over at him.

“So, where the fuck am I?” I asked.

“Earth. Mega City 9.” the stranger replied.

“Were earthlings always this full of metal?” I continued with more questions.

“No. But they have been augmenting themselves with cybernetics for about a century now. That poses a problem for you, doesn’t it? You can’t assimilate inorganic matter.” he replied with a slight smirk.

“Yeah. It sucks. Even this guy had a lot of shit in his head, but he was the most organic one I could find.” I slapped my naked body on the chest.

“How are you alive?” the Zailurian asked.

“I’ll do you one better. Why are YOU here?” I grinned.

“You know that already. Your species is an Armageddon-level threat to every fucking planet in this galaxy. I’m here to exterminate you before you start to accumulate biomass.” He replied, pulling out his gun but not pointing it at me this time.

“So why aren’t you?” I said, opening the second pizza box.
“Pepperoni is fucking amazing man. Too bad you bots don’t eat.”

“First, you’re human. Meaning that you haven’t assimilated that body. Second, you’re alive, which shouldn’t be possible.” the Zailurian replied, looking at me with interest.

“Yeah. My head feels very clear, very quiet. Almost empty. I feel alone, can’t contact myself. Maybe it’s this planet…”

“No.” he interrupted.
“YOU shouldn’t be. Your kind doesn’t have a sense of individuality. You are just biomass, psychically linked to the Hive. You are all one entity. When a Hive gets destroyed, all of its extensions die out immediately.”

“So, you’re saying the Hive got destroyed? That’s a shame. How?” I looked at him, his words did not strike any particular feeling in me, not like that was ever possible.

“It got caught in the orbit of a Red Giant which was then remotely forced to go supernova. You’re a far way from your mass.” He said, beaming with pride. It must’ve been his kind that was responsible for that.

“I see. That explains a lot.” I finish the second box, thinking back on the night I came into contact with my current body.

It was a cold, rainy night. I felt weak and exhausted as if I was dying. My abilities were gone, I could not think straight or even do much. All I could do was look for a place to die. I decided to crawl under a bridge, not feeling in the mood to die in the rain. That’s where I came across him, a needle still stuck in his arm, passed out on the concrete.

The Zailurian cleared his throat to grab my attention, snapping me from being lost in thought.
“You said you’re inside the skull. How? Can you get out?”

“I can totally get out. I just took refuge in here since it looked like a good place to die. And his brain was fried anyway. Watch this, sucka!”
I stood up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, rummaging through the dishes before pulling out a decently sized kitchen knife. Blood dripped down my face as I jammed the blade into the skull, making a full circle around the head like opening a can. Once that was done, I grabbed the top of the head and lifted it, revealing myself to the Zailurian.

“Ta-dah.” I laughed.
“And I can leave whenever I want”
I said, fleshy tentacles gripping the side of the skull. I strained myself a bit before hopping out, the human body flipping lifelessly on the floor. Blood was everywhere on the kitchen floor and on some of the cupboards and shelves. My triumph was short-lived, as suddenly I felt myself growing colder and colder. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move.

“Whaaatt? I… can’t breathe…” Came from the body on the floor, as a few tendrils still connected me to it, allowing me to talk.

“Quick, put me… back in.” I looked around, but since the body was lying face down on the floor, I couldn’t see much.

A pair of metallic hands picked me up from the floor. I could feel them squeezing, the Zailurian planning to crush me into a pulp no doubt. But that final squeeze never came. I felt myself carried through the air and stuffed back inside the open skull on the floor. Quickly, I extended my tendrils, connecting them back to the spinal column of the body, feeling myself become more alive by the second.

“Ugh, that was fucking awful.” I groaned, slowly picking myself off the floor and standing up, grabbing a stapler from the desk and stapling my skull closed.

“I see. You must have gotten in contact with that human right as your Hive got destroyed. So instead of fully assimilating him, you’ve replaced his brain and attached yourself to his vitals to survive.” the machine-man replied, cleaning the blood from his hands with a paper towel before sitting back down on the couch.

“So, I’m the brain now?” I asked, sitting next to him and leaning back.

“Seems like it, though I assume you’ve probably replaced his entire nervous system by now. Seeing how you can’t talk or see without being connected to the body.”

“That sucks ass, man.” sighing, I opened the third pizza box. ‘MeatLovers delight’, my newfound favourite.

“I’m just curious why you can’t assimilate the entire body. Your kind replicates cells, then destroys the original.” He rubbed his chin while thinking, talking more to himself than to me.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember a lot of things. I can’t explain it. I remember more how to be human than how to be myself.” I answered, waving the slice around, getting some grease on the machine’s shirt.

“Watch where you wave that, motherfucker.” The Zailurian growled, trying to wipe his shirt with the paper towel before the stain got permanent, but it was too late.

“So, you gonna atomize me now?”

“No. This is an interesting development. You have a symbiotic relationship with that body. Of course, I’ll keep an eye on you, if you go haywire then I’ll put you down.” he sighed when his efforts to clean his shirt failed, causing him to frown and stand up.

Something softly clattered on the coffee table, causing us both to look down. A staple. The Zailurian looked up at me. One by one, all the staples fell out as the wound healed fully.
“Seems you have more effect on the body than just being the brain. Maybe I should ice you before things get out of hand.”

“Nah, don’t be a bitch and backtrack on your previous statement,” I argued back.

“Oh? You afraid to die? I thought your kind had no concept of ever being alive in the first place.”

“Nah, but I am curious about this too. Plus, I have two more boxes of pizza in front of me, and like a dozen more flavours I haven’t tried yet. Once I try ‘em all, you can kill me, I don’t give a fuck.” I waved him off nonchalantly.

Before he could finalize his decision, the doorbell rang. He looked over at me, the look on his face asking if I was expecting another pizza order. I shook my head, standing up and walking over to the door.
“Who is it?”

“Oh thank goodness, you’re home, Diego. Open the door.” Came a female voice from the other side.

I looked over at the machine man sitting on the couch, shrugged and opened the door, coming face to face with a short woman. She had short, dirty blonde hair, and was dressed like those business girls I’ve seen on the floating square. The look on her face however was one of shock and embarrassment.

“Uh, Diego. Where are your clothes?” she asked, averting her eyes from my naked body and looking up at me. Her eyes widened even further when she noticed the dry blood that was covering my head and face.
“Oh god, you’re bleeding. What happened? Are you alright? Do I need to call in the medical team?” She blurted out, panic evident in her voice.

“He’s fine. He just fell and hit his head.” The Zailurian chimed in from the couch.

“Hey dude. This chick seems to know me. Maybe she and I are supposed to breed or something.” I turned around towards the machine man, a confused look on my face while pointing to the girl with my thumb.

Before I could even fully turn around and face her again, her small hand flew across the side of my face with incredible force, causing me to stumble back.

“You rude, inconsiderate bastard. Your father was worried sick and so was I. Thinking you finally bit the dust under some bridge with a needle in your arm. ‘Breed’, as if.” She yelled, her face turning redder by the minute.

I was shocked, feeling the unfamiliar burning sensation on the side of my face.

“But since you are alive and well, fucking around with your dealer over there, I will simply deliver your father’s message to you. You’re cut off. He will not fund your deplorable lifestyle any longer. You have one last chance to get your sorry, drug-ridden ass to rehab or he will remove you from his will as well. Have a good day.”

Before I could even say a word, she turned around and stormed off down the hallway towards the elevator. I turned around to the Zailurian, still rubbing my face.
“What did she do to me? And what’s cut-off mean?”

“Oh, that? That’s pain. She smacked the shit out of you.” He laughed.
“As for cut-off, means no more money.”

The sensation was a novel one for sure. Seems I still wasn’t done discovering new things that came with this body I now had.
“Fuck I need money for?”

“This apartment, food, water. No more money, no more pizza.” the stranger explained, much to my horror.

“I need to get more money right now! How do I do that?” I ran over from the door and sat on the couch, ready to hear what I must do. A life without pizza wouldn’t be worth living.

“Hold on, hold on. She seemed to be a secretary or the assistant of someone. Whoever you are or, well, were, seems to have had a pretty rich daddy.” The Zailurian said, pulling a scanner from his coat and pointing it at my face.

After a few seconds, the device beeped and the look on his face lit up with surprise.
“Well, I’ll be. You’re Diego Rivera. Of the Rivera Robotics Incorporated. Biggest military and police robotics manufacturer on the continent.”

“That sounds good, right?” I asked, not understanding a single thing he said.

“Very good and very bad. Means if you weren’t a junkie, you’d be loaded as fuck. On second hand, if your old man gets even a whiff of the fact his son’s body is piloted by an extra-terrestrial, he will pluck you out of that skull and either kill you or make you into some fucked up bioweapon.”

“Ugh, sounds like a headache.” I groaned and slumped in my seat, flipping over the second to last box of pizza.

“It is, for both of us. I’m stationed here to keep an eye on humanity. So, if this gets out of hand, it’ll become my mess to fix.” the stranger slumped in his seat as well.

“You could just kill me. Seems less work for both of us.” I suggested.

“Well, knowing what I know now, I can’t kill you. You’re human. Even if your brain isn’t. It’s a fucking loophole.” He groaned, rubbing his mechanical face with his hands.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Seems like you’ll just have to learn how to be Diego from now on. Start by showering and putting on some clothes. Meanwhile, I’ll go dig up everything on Diego and his family, so you can have some homework to do when I’m back.” the Zailurian stood up and headed for the door.

“Hey, hold on homes. Now we know I’m called Diego. What do we call you?” I asked.

“Call me Gart.” He replied while leaving.

“Good enough for me.”

[This is my first post and story here; please like and comment if you want to see more]

Greetings Governor

I have done as you requested and with my staff did much investigation on the new sentient species on the far corner of the known universe, and what I found out interested me to say the least from what little material we have been able to gather.

As you may know, one of our scouting parties got lost when a particularly severe bout of unexpected gravitational fluctuation affected their FTL journey on the warptunnel such that they were forced to disengage, resulting in them arriving in a previously unmapped region of farspace. There they encountered a spacecraft never before seen of rigged oblong design, massively larger than their scouting vessel, that began to initiate hostilities. Luckily, they were able to escape to our spatial realm once they pinpointed a new warptunnel route, yet this experience scarred them severely that they have been discharged from duty and are now in the process of rehabilitation.

As our research drones sent to this mysterious region of the universe have gradually returned, I and my team of experts have been able to piece together a coherent view of the sentient alien species our unfortunate scouts encountered and their civilization.

The species in question calls itself “man” or “human”, although they have many other terms in their very disunified form of communications, but this appears to be the most used term in their civilization, and so for this purpose I will use it. It is a warm-blooded biological entity relying on bipedal locomotion and a specialized upper limb for which to mostly interact with everything around them. They are relatively small compared to us, with the biggest specimen measuring a mere 3.1 kort tall, barely a little over half of our usual height. However, this is to be expected as they originate from a planet with a gravity nearly 3 times that of ours, and a toxic atmosphere which their civilization has made even more uninhabitable, even to their hardy selves. Their behaviour is most curious; on side they are capable of being highly rigorous and thorough in their activities and have a capacity for surprising foresight, yet this is negated by their primitive, hierarchical and violent trait, which I cannot emphasize this point enough, in addition to their competitive and often domineering nature. Impulsivity, hubris and selfishness, whether for a unit or as a recognized grouping, have been a distinct signature of this species. Indeed, it is remarkable that they have developed civilization to this extent considering their deleterious traits and innately destructive tendencies.

This species is relatively young, with the estimated time between when they first gained consciousness and now to be around 9000 our style rotations; compared to our own history, of which by this relative point we have yet to achieve planetary unification let alone exploration of the star system.

Their current state is, in my opinion, of most note as it breaks one of our long-established notions; that a civilization cannot survive an AI uprising. Indeed, collected material from our drones indicates that this “human” civilization suffered AI uprising not too long ago. From ruined artificial satellites, abandoned mining equipment on asteroids and a much-reduced population living in relative squalor compared to their estimated peak, it’s all there. It is unknown exactly how the species managed to best AI, however it is telling that the cost of their survival has been high. Another significant outcome from this cataclysmic event for their civilization is the collective trauma caused from it as it now appeared that AI have been banned. Also, that any AI found will be destroyed and the death penalty applied to those who attempts to build new AI; to make these edicts more effective, research into advanced computer technology is forbidden, resulting in either improvements to existing technology, or further R&D into more primitive systems.

However, this species’ civilization cannot rest and rebuild for they face perhaps a lesser, but still great existential threat, that being of rival alien-powers. “Zorgav” and “Xyzern”, “Zorgav” being a civilization species of multilimbed endoskeleton swarmers while the “Xyzern” are a civilization species of amorphous beings encased in smart casings. These are the names of the 2 other alien species of the same cluster as the “human” system is located in, and now relatively incapacitated, have come to seize an easy target. The “human” civilization responded to these threats with surprising tenacity. Our drones have recorded an encounter wherein a “human” spacecraft of a smaller size than our wayward scouts encountered sacrificed itself against a small number of “Zorgax” entities to defend one asteroid colony as it was being evacuated. However, I have no doubt that the “human” civilization will soon end; they simply have no chance with all these factors going against them, of which many appeared to be created by themselves.

I and my team would be pleased if you governor were to authorize crewed missions for further investigation into this most curious of newly discovered species and civilization. Prompt reply would be most welcomed. Thank you for your attention.

Index of all parts here.

I am not in the habit of posting on social media. The rigours of my higher education have long stripped me of any desire for it. Then, I did not have time. Now, I am simply not interested. My work occupies me well enough.

But what has occurred now… I must tell someone. Anyone. Anyone from the outside, who has not grown jaded to these things. I anticipate that, soon enough, something terrible shall befall me, alongside many others. This may not, of course, transpire. But in case it does, I wish to have a record of my thoughts on the matter. A final testimony.

A dying declaration, if you will.

Well, to say that this is the first time something noteworthy has occurred is to be untruthful. Things of note happen all the time here. The land itself is… invigorated. Alive. Sentient.

Not malevolent, no, but perhaps with a distant indifference to the wellbeing of its residents. And from the morasses of this vast, half-slumbering conscious, things crawl out every so often. Some are only temporary, melting back into the shadows almost as soon as they break free. Others like to linger, goaded into permanence by the promises of materiality.

Any sane person would leave such a place well enough alone. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there is little dearth of insanity in this world. The beautifully ugly flower of human society has bloomed, even in this harsh and unforgiving soil, and the residents have learned to make their peace with the fact that they are never quite alone, and that unusually deep shadows and inviting nooks are best left unexplored.

Well and good for them. But it is not the kind of place one expects or, to be honest, desires to be sent to on duty. Indeed, it has been no more than a few years, but I already cannot recall what prompted the transfer of young, starry-eyed Samaresh Bose from a sleepy Kolkata beat to the armpit of nowhere. Perhaps it was something about arresting some legislator’s wife?

This place will do that to you. Make everything beyond seem small. Distant. Unimportant. In any case, it did not happen all at once. First, it was a slightly out-of-the-way posting. Then, reassignment to one of the outer circles, but still well-situated. The quarters had air conditioning. The roof only leaked in one place. The jail locks were not jammed from rust.

But as I made myself more and more of a nuisance, asking the wrong questions, following the wrong leads, and arresting the wrong people, I kept getting shunted further and further out.

That finally ended here. The dead end to end all dead ends. I still remember being called into the Superintendent’s office, and being handed the transfer orders.

Chhayagarh.

He had made a huge show of regret, prattling on about losing one of his best officers, cursing his fate that such a remote posting had opened up at such an inopportune time, ruing the political pressure that had forced him into this decision. But underneath it all, I could tell. He was relieved to be rid of me. A dozen fewer scoldings from the secretariat to worry about. That did not surprise me.

What did surprise me was the reaction from my father. I had expected him to be glad at the news; the village was his birthplace, after all, though he had left it behind a long time ago. Instead, even over the phone, I could tell he was troubled. He asked, over and over, if there was no other option, no other posting I could take up. Anything instead of this one. Finally, he tensely wished me the best of luck and hung up.

Over the past few months, I have spoken to him every so often. He asks for news from people and families he used to know, the conditions of his old stomping grounds, the rains, the harvests, and the weather. I tell him what I can. In a way, he seems to have come around to my situation.

But even now, every few minutes, he tries to sneak in at least one question only I would know the answer to. As if he is afraid something could be imitating my voice.

At least it all came with a promotion. My first posting as a Station House Officer.

Those first few months were… torture. Never before and never since in my life have I felt true anger towards my father. He never warned me about this place. What it could do to the unprepared.

I was not prepared for the shambling horrors in the treeline, fleeing from the acrid smoke of our guns. The silent patrols in chilly pea-soup fog, desperately tuning out whispers that enticed us to wrap our jeep around a tree. The all-night search parties to overturn the latest batch of mutilated remains.

But most of all, I was unprepared for the coverups. The bodies I had to bury. The documents I had to burn. The statements and findings I had to omit from my reports. Exactly the kind of thing I had opposed to end up here.

Those days were full of anger and friction. I often had shouting matches with the officers and constables, all locals. Sometimes it escalated. Physically.

And, of course, there were the frequent summons to the imposing manor of the local landlords, the Thakurs, to explain my disruptive conduct. There was more arguing and threatening in those meetings, mostly from my end, than explanations.

I even tried to arrest the old Thakur, and during my first week, no less. It did not end well, though he did handle it with more grace than I expected.

Eventually, though, I learned to understand my purpose here. The patience and grace with which my abrasiveness was accepted, and the explanations I was willingly given whenever required, surely helped. But I think eventually all who spend some time on this land come to appreciate its truth. They feel it deep in their bones.

What is here must never be allowed elsewhere. The world beyond is not ready for it. For the destruction, death, and suffering that comes when this side and… the other collide. So, we do what must be done to hold it back. A burden and a privilege in equal measure.

Though it seems chaotic from the surface, deep down Chhayagarh works on rules, like everything else. Once you comprehend them, once you know why you must do the things that you do, the land opens up. You learn to see past the danger, past the grimy crust that scares outsiders away.

You appreciate the sunsets over the imposing mountains, the verdant embrace of the forests, the fairs, markets, and harvest festivals, the comfortable chill of the early morning, and most of all the dependable and simple hardiness of the people who eke out a living on this hostile soil. You begin to understand why people would have braved its unique dangers to settle here. You fall in love with the place.

I guess you could say I am one of those insane people myself now.

But the rules have changed.

Today began like any other in the village: the morning review at the station, a few rounds of patrolling, filling in some paperwork. You know the drill. Around evening, the order was handed down from the manor: a curfew was in effect. All people inside the village boundaries were to stay indoors until the next morning. Not great, but not exactly uncommon either: it usually meant that something more serious than usual had appeared, and the Thakur’s men would be out all night, hunting it down. The curfews ensured no one got caught in the crossfire, including us: the officers under my command were capable enough, but our department was more interested in drunkards, vagrants, thieves, and maybe the occasional murderer. We do not meddle with criminals who crawl through shadows and open screaming archways to hoary netherworlds.

Government hazard pay does not cover such occurrences.

So, once the sun dipped below the horizon, I sent my boys home and retreated to my own quarters. The government-assigned housing was long gone, having been swept away in particularly harsh rains over twenty years ago. But the landlord had been gracious enough to offer me a well-furnished bungalow on his estate. It had apparently been constructed during the Raj for some bigwig British Resident, though I did not ask too many questions.

After coming here, I have developed a pastime of maintaining a diary. Every night, after taking a bath, I sit in the bungalow’s study, near an open window facing the gentle evening breeze, and write. It helps me keep track of what is real sometimes, when conditions at work get particularly dire. A few weeks ago, the only warning I had that one of my constables was ‘not supposed to be there’, so to speak, was that none of my diary entries had ever mentioned him… it before.

But even without that, it is a good way to get one’s thoughts out and unwind. That was exactly what I was doing tonight as well, when my old rotary telephone unleashed its piercing shriek. The village had received cell coverage a few years back, but it was still notoriously unreliable, even when things were not attempting to chew on the airwaves. Any important business still went over landlines laid painstakingly deep underground many decades ago, with charms and talismans wrapped around the wires every few feet to discourage interference. Even now, the occasional necessary repairs were done under armed guard, and had to be supervised by a priest.

Therefore, like the arrival of a registered letter, a ringing landline meant only one thing: urgent, probably bad news. Especially this late, past midnight. I had a good idea of who it could be.

I hurried to the living room, my uniform and gun already laid out on the table nearby: late-night calls were more common here than was perhaps healthy, even if tonight was more sensitive.

“Bose babu, you had better come quickly.”

It was Mr. Krishnamurthy on the other end of the line. Though he spoke Bengali as well as any purebred Kolkata lad after so many years here, the vestiges of his Tamil accent were impossible to miss.

“Mr. Krishnamurthy? What’s wrong? Disturbance at the station?”

“Not at the station, no. It is hard to explain. Can you see anything strange outside your window?”

Holding the phone with my shoulder, I briefly glanced outside through the adjacent window. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. My house was in a rather secluded part of the land, surrounded by a number of thickets that made it hard to see far.

“Nothing here, no. Why?”

“I have not seen anything like this, Bose. Never, in all my years here. You should come. Now.”

Mr Krishnamurthy had come to Bengal with his parents when he was a child, and joined the police service in the State before being transferred here as the previous Inspector. He eventually grew attached to the village. When retirement came around, he decided to stay, selling off his old Durgapur apartment in favour of a modest house in the village centre. He was a big help in getting me adjusted to the place. Even now, if I ever had to leave the station for some reason, he was more than willing to sit in and keep an eye on prisoners and policemen alike. Like today.

“There’s a curfew right now. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“No. But you must come. I have a bad feeling. Something is going to go wrong, if it has not already.”

Though we were only briefly acquainted, I had never known his instincts to be wrong. So, I quickly pulled on my uniform and headed out. The jeep was waiting outside; everyone else at the station lived in the village proper, so it usually remained with me in the off hours. The driver was usually nearby as well, but I had sent him home today, leaving me to drive back to the station by myself. Thankfully, the moon was out and nearly full, illuminating the unfamiliar road in a glow almost as bright as daylight itself.

Given the curfew warning, I was understandably a little jump. Every little shadow at the corner of my vision loomed as a brutish monstrosity, about to tackle my vehicle and feast on my guts. But even after I passed the relative safety of the estate’s walls and hit the deserted main road, nothing came up. In fact, it was too quiet: even the disgruntled imps, who often fled from our tyres with shrieking protests while scavenging at night, were absent. Though the peace was welcome, I could not shake the feeling that it was something else entirely. It was something one learned to grasp, even unconsciously, in places like these. That persistent itch at the back of your skull in the mountains. A sudden silence in the forest. Busy streets that inexplicably emptied at the drop of a hat.

Rats deserting a sinking ship.

I decided to speed up.

It did not take me more than ten minutes on the deserted road to reach the village centre. As expected, the alleys and usual haunts were completely deserted. Even the hardiest village truants knew not to ignore a warning like this. My jeep was the only audible sound in the vicinity, the dying roar of its engine bouncing dully off the buildings as I parked and jogged up the steps to the station house.

Like in all the houses, the electric lighting had not been turned on tonight: too risky to draw attention at such a time. Instead, a reliable paraffin lantern had been perched on my desk, illuminating an unopened lunchbox and, behind it, a still, stocky figure in the chair. The light cast a thick shadow over his face, but I could recognize the build anywhere.

“Mr. Krishnamurthy?”

“Bose babu!” He rose from his chair, grabbing his lantern to finally illuminate his face. Kind, but firm eyes peered at me from behind his thick-rimmed spectacles. “Pardon me, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. I didn’t expect you would arrive so soon.”

“You asked me to hurry.”

“Sit, sit.” He waved at the SHO’s chair, but I gestured for him to sit back down and took my seat on one of the benches.

“Inspector, Inspector!” The harsh, anglicized voice awakened me to another rude reality of our situation. The very reason I had Mr. Krishnamurthy stay here in the first place rather than closing the station up for the night.

The one other lantern lit in the station was hanging inside the station’s lockup, for the benefit of its sole inmate. Pacing and huffing underneath it was a large, stocky man, his pale skin and wild beard fading in and out of the light. He had been divested of his backpack and cross necklace after his arrest, but one could easily tell with a look that there was merit to the idea of the missionary’s true weapon being his self-righteousness. He stalked up to the bars, pushing one hand through to gesticulate at me.

“Inspector!” he repeated, “I know my rights! I want to see a magistrate right now! You can’t keep me here like this!”

Krishnamurthy sighed. “Sir, as I told you the first fifty times, we are entitled to hold you for twenty-four hours without a hearing. And even if you were entitled to see a judge, there is no way to transport you right now. There is no magistrate in the village!”

“He hasn’t told you his name yet?” I asked.

“He hasn’t told me anything except that he wants to see a magistrate and that Jesus Christ is the one true saviour. For the last few hours. Consistently.”

“Do not insult His name with your heathen mouth! Open your hearts and accept him, and you may be spared the fate that is to come!” He pointed a finger up at the sky. “His vengeance is terrible, and it shall fall upon you, shall you not repent.”

“Why did we arrest this one, Bose? Should have clubbed him and been done with it.”

“Thakur’s orders.” I crossed my arms, hoping my glare could reach the preacher through the darkness. “He was causing some kind of nuisance in the morning, and had a run-in with an… other.” I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Payback is demanded, apparently.”

“Ah.” Krishnamurthy scratched his whitening beard absently. “Who was it? Did you recognize it?”

“I heard some chatter about a man in a cloak?” I shrugged. “Never seen one matching that description.”

Even in the dim light, I saw him visibly freeze. But he recovered quickly and patted his lunchbox. “I see. Hungry, Bose?”

“Wait, you know this thing?”

He shrugged. “All I know is that this matter is now officially above either of our control. It’s pretty late, are you sure you won’t eat? You might not have another chance.” He waved the box in front of my eyes. “Kongu chicken. Your favourite.”

It was hard to resist. His cooking was excellent; one learned quickly when no one in a hundred-mile radius knew how to make idli, let alone anything more complex. In fact, his day job post-retirement was running Chhayagarh’s only Tamil food canteen. But I had to (regrettably) prioritize.

“No, I’m fine.” I waved him off. “But why did you ask me out here?”

“I can’t show it to you until it happens.” He pointed at one of the small station windows. “Keep an eye out. You’ll see it.”

“He thinks he can save you from the wrath of God himself.” The preacher chuckled in his cell.

“Wrath of God? What do you mean?” I frowned.

Just then, a glimmer of light caught my eye. The window that Krishnamurthy had pointed out opened onto the outskirts of the village, facing the main road that led in from the bus stop. There, up in the sky, a spectral read thread wriggled and snapped, releasing a flurry of blinding sparks that flew over the night like a meteor shower. A moment later, it fizzled out and disappeared. A deep thrum, like distant thunder, ran across the ground, shaking the building to its foundations. The old chairs and benches creaked in protest. The lanterns swayed wildly, casting the room into a dizzying maze of light and shadow.

“What the hell?” I grabbed the lantern on the desk to steady both it and myself.

“This is the fifth time it has happened.” Krishnamurthy frowned. “Each time, it gets more violent.”

I glanced at the sky. The night had already dragged on. “And you just called now?”

He shrugged. “It is hardly out of the ordinary here to see weird things in the sky, Bose. But the way it is progressing… I don’t know. Call it intuition or paranoia, but something’s wrong.”

It happened again. This time, the red string was slightly more faded and worn, twisting weakly against the darkness before disappearing.

“Should we call the manor?” I asked. “Get a clarification?”

“I already did, but no one picked up. It seems they’re all occupied already.”

“All of them?” That was indeed strange. Even in all of Mr. Krishnamurthy’s experience, a day had never come when the entire family was out… working.

“As far as I can tell.” He looked at the window again, ancient worry lines deepening on his forehead. “Do you think…?”

It had not been long since the old Thakur was found dead in the forest, under extremely mysterious circumstances. The new lord, his grandson, was an outsider. He had left Chhayagarh shortly after his birth, and lived in Kolkata all his life. I have only met him once, and he seems to be trying his best. But, despite the villagers’ indelible trust in him, it was easy for me to see that he was well out of his depth. Not a problem by itself; I was probably worse when I was new here.

But he had picked a bad time. Ever since his grandfather’s death, everything was slowly getting worse. Outsiders on the land, causing trouble. Strange, new entities never seen before. Spikes in conflicts and mysterious deaths. The scenario would be difficult for a seasoned leader. Impossible for a greenhorn.

In fact, the word on the street was that today’s curfew was related to something to do with him.

I did not need to finish Krishnamurthy’s train of thought.

Had he messed something up?

Before we could expand on those thoughts, a great commotion erupted outside: stomping feet, shouting, clattering wood and metal. Both of us instinctively reached for our revolvers at our belts. Mr. Krishnamurthy had ‘forgotten’ to give up his service weapon after retirement, and despite a few stern letters in the early years, the brave State Police Service was not exactly willing to shoulder the risks of coming here to recover it. Despite our age difference, we even had the same model, which would be funny if it did not reveal the terrible state of the station’s equipment.

A lathi-wielding man burst through the door, a heavy shawl hastily thrown around his shoulders and a haphazardly tied gamcha holding on to his head for dear life. Even the loop of his pants’ drawstring was still hanging out. Evidently, he had been in too much of a hurry to worry about appearances. Before the door swung shut behind him, I caught a glimpse of the bicycle he had used to get here, overturned in a haste to disembark.

“Babu! Inspector babu!” He ran straight past me to Krishnamurthy. He was still ‘Inspector babu’ to the villagers.

Krishnamurthy let go of his gun, steadying him. “What’s wrong? Why are you running about like a chicken?”

I recognized him. He was one of the lathials at the manor. I had been seeing him often at the front gate since I arrived here: a trusted servant, evidently.

“Babu, calamity has struck! Calamity! Chhote Thakur has gone missing!”

“What?” I whirled on him. “What do you mean missing?”

“He went into the forest tonight, for his bhoomibandhan. But he did not return at the appointed time, so we went out at once to search. But we could not find him, babu, and then—”

Another tremor ran through the building. The sky flashed with colour again as the thread reappeared. This time, it was barely visible, grey and fraying. It lingered only for a moment before dissolving.

The lathial’s face contorted with fear as he gazed up at it.

“What is that?” Krishnamurthy pressed him. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

He nodded frantically. “The Raksha Sutra. It’s breaking down, Inspector babu.”

Krishnamurthy’s face went slack with shock. He released his grip and staggered back to the chair.

“What is he talking about? The Raksha Sutra?” I stormed up to the desk. “Mr. Krishnamurthy. What is he saying?”

He did not respond, only lightly resting his head in his hands.

Behind me, I heard the prisoner laughing. “No witchcraft can save you from the hellfire that awaits you, pagan.” He spat that last word out, like an insult.

“Shut up! Mr. Krishnamurthy!”

“The village’s boundaries, babu,” the lathial clarified. “The walls that keep us safe. Our wards, our weapons. The Raksha Sutra is what gives us the power to contain the rakshasas that dwell here. It is powered by the Thakur’s strength. If it is breaking apart, then… then he…” He bit his tongue. “No, no, it is a sin to even think so! Please, Inspector, you must find him! Before—”

The thread reappeared in the sky, this time in tatters and completely devoid of colour.

“No,” the lathial breathed.

It disintegrated, turning into a rough strand of light that lazily bent into itself: a wide circle in the sky.

Then, it spun rapidly, splitting and multiplying into a thick band of threads that wrapped around the entire land from end to end, from the two-pillared bus stop on the highway to the imposing mountain behind the estate.

They kept spinning glowing brighter and brighter. Until, with a final, brilliant flare, they snapped. An immensely loud thunderclap split the air, the change in air pressure sending a chilling gust of wind through the empty streets.

Then, an instant later, the shockwave hit. All three of us were knocked off our feet instantly, crashing onto the hard floor. The building itself creaked and groaned, perceptibly swaying in place. A few hairline cracks appeared at the junctions between the walls and the floor, spidering upwards. Even our guest for the night, so sure of being spared divine wrath, was knocked flat, tumbling into the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Even as I tried to regain my bearings, my vision doubling and crossing over itself, I could tell. Something unnoticeable yet indelible had shifted in the air. The station, familiar and secure just a moment ago, now suddenly felt raw and uncomfortable. Every angle felt jagged, crooked, and raw. Ever so slightly off. Dangerous. It was as if I had gone to sleep in my bedroom and opened my eyes in a forest, with predators in the treeline.

Every primal instinct that civilized society tells you to suppress was screaming at me to run, but you cannot listen to those and still be a self-respecting police officer. So, instead, I staggered upright, helping Mr. Krishnamurthy off the floor. The lathial, nimbler than his age would imply, had already jumped to his feet, bounding to the door and shouting at the others outside in rapid-fire Bengali. His dialect had slipped into the local drawl, making it almost unintelligible to me, but Krishnamurthy grimaced.

“Bose babu, go to the armoury. Get the rifles. We will need bigger guns.”

I steadied him for a moment longer, but he seemed to be fine. “What was that?”

“The Raksha Sutra is broken, Inspector babu.” The lathial hurried back to us, gripping his weapon tightly. “We are in grave danger. Without its protection, there is nothing holding the demons back. We need to move quickly.”

The noises outside receded as everyone moved to fulfill their assigned tasks.

“Move where?” I asked.

“Behind the estate walls, babu. Or to temples. Their protection will also be weakened by the damage done to the kshetra, to the sacred territory. But they can still hold back the worst of what is to come.”

“And what exactly is to come?” I pressed.

It was Mr. Krishnamurthy who answered. “Tonight, Bose, is going to be the most dangerous night to fall upon this land in centuries. To merely live until the morning would be a blessing.”

Morning could not have been more than a couple of hours away.

“We need to barricade ourselves in,” the guard stressed. “At least until dawn. Quickly. There are additional layers of defense, but they will not hold for long. A bloody hour is almost upon us.”

“What about him?” I pointed at the prisoner, who was still recovering. “We can’t leave him here.”

He leaned in, dropping his voice. “Is he really necessary?”

I crossed my arms. “Your Thakur seems to think so. If he is still around.”

He bit his tongue, pulling on an earlobe. “Don’t say such inauspicious things, please. Maa has already gone through so much, losing Birendra babu. A grandson’s death would kill her where she stands.”

“Is there no way we can hold out here?”

“The station is built to hold off riots, Bose, but not… them.” Krishnamurthy nodded at the preacher. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. These old bones still have some life in them. You gather the weapons.”

The lathial shook his head. “Inspector babu, your weapons will not work against them.”

“We have a few proper ones. Bose, look for the rifles with writing on the barrel. Samarendra had donated some to the station a few years back.” He waved vaguely at the backroom where the weapons were kept, grabbing some handcuffs off the wall with his other hand. “Hurry.”

I fumbled for the weapon locker keys at my belt, my hands still shaking from the explosion. I was more terrified in that moment than I perhaps would have admitted, if asked then. It was this fear that had me fumbling with the locks for a few more minutes than were absolutely necessary.

Even now, I cannot help the feeling. If I had been a little quicker, a little braver, what might have transpired instead? Maybe, I would have been able to prevent what happened next.

All of us had our backs turned to the station doors. That meant none of us noticed our uninvited guest stretching an impossibly long limb inside until it made contact with the floor. The sound of a heavy thump, followed by the brief scrape of nails against stone, made the hairs stand up on my nape. Almost simultaneously, a key finally clicked in the locker’s mechanism. Slowly, too slowly, I turned towards its source.

Mr. Krishnamurthy, eyes wide, was looking at the same thing. He only had one loose hand on the handcuffed prisoner’s wrists, but it hardly mattered. There was nowhere to run.

The limb on the floor was forcing the door ajar, casting the light of the full moon into the room. It was a pale, impossibly bony arm, ending in a hand with dirty, black nails almost as long as a man’s forearm. As we watched, it clenched its grip, nails digging through the sturdy stone like butter as it pulled the rest of its lumbering form through.

It was shaped like an earthworm, long and segmented, with each section of its body wriggling in a different direction with a mind of its own. It was a discoloured, ashy grey, with foul greenish mucus dripping and dribbling in puddles as it pushed itself through the entryway and into the room. Attached to its form with gnarly knots of scar tissue were over sixteen such arms, asymmetrically and haphazardly attached. Each flailed in a different direction, totally uncoordinated as they tried to grab anything and everything in search of a stable anchor. They spread out like a peacock’s tail as it entered, swiping files, overturning cabinets, and crushing old trophies before finally finding a wall. The strength of their grips sent cracks spidering through the room as they pushed. Its bulk was ponderous, evidently too large to be moved efficiently by its limbs, but that did not deter it.

The lathial was in motion before any of us, runes sparking along his baton as he closed the distance between himself and the monster in a single bound. It swiped out in a clumsy blow with one arm, but he ducked it easily, following up with a brutal swipe. The baton made contact with the worm’s head, if it had such a thing, with enough force to send a small burst of air through the room. Smelly mucus spattered everywhere as it staggered to the side, arms losing their balance as a pitch-black bruise appeared on its skin. It keened in pain, revealing a mouth under its head. It was lined with spirals of teeth.

More mouths appeared along its body, splitting open from invisible seams, snapping hungrily at the prospect of prey. We also swung into motion, firing our revolvers at its body, but the bullets barely made a dent, glancing off its slick covering of snot. It roared and shook itself, sending globules of it across the station. His opponent ducked to avoid the spray, and for good reason: the files and furniture it landed on corroded in seconds, buckling into dust.

While the lathial was crouched, it took advantage of the opening, bringing two of its arms together in a deadly clap that could easily crush him. He used the staff to block it, the force of the impact on both ends making the markings flare in protest. He followed up with rapid blows to the arms, shattering them like glass. It roared again, rearing back in pain, and he took the opportunity to stab the lathi into one of its mouths. His grip tightened, and the runes along its length blazed to life, creating white-hot flames that immolated it from the inside. It swiped with its hands again, unleashing a panicked flurry of blows, but he easily dodged, nimbly jumping back out of its range.

It seemed he would win.

Then the creature bunched its segments and charged, throwing its full weight against him. He braced and took the blow on the staff. Initially, he was driven back, feet scraping so fast against the floor that sparks flew. Then, he found his footing, stopping it dead in its tracks. The runes on the lathi grew brighter, and he braced harder. It was a brutal tug-of-war, each trying to prevent the other from overwhelming them while simultaneously seeking openings to break the deadlock.

“Bose, rifles! Now!” Krishnamurthy called, jamming his revolver back into his belt with a frustrated grunt.

I tried to still my pounding heart with deep breaths, throwing the locker open. The station had long abandoned any proper protocol for keeping arms, and all the weapons had been jammed into one unnavigable pile. I knew of the problem, but a few months was too little time to implement any lasting change. None of the ones at the top bore the writing Krishnamurthy had described. I began pulling them out, one at a time, struggling to see in the dim light; the light from the door did not reach this far into the station.

Behind me, the battle continued, brief flashes of light dazzling my vision and making it even harder. I took the risk of glancing back at them.

Just then, with a final, mighty heave, the lathial pushed his opponent onto the backfoot. He pulled his arm back, a reddish, fiery aura faintly covering his body, preparing for a mighty finishing strike on its head.

As he swung, the runes on the lathi flickered and died. It hit the creature’s side uselessly, a wet, impotent thwack all the evidence that the blow had ever been struck. For a moment, none of us moved, in equal and mutual disbelief. Then the confusion on his face gave way to panicked comprehension.

The last vestiges of the Raksha Sutra’s power had burned out. He tried to move back out of range, but his reactions were slower, even sluggish without the power of the wards.

His opponent was not affected in the slightest. One of its arms shot out, grabbing him by the ankle. Even as he struggled to free it, it effortlessly lifted his body into the air and slammed it against the floor. Once. Twice. Thrice, each crack growing increasingly louder and… wetter. Drops of mucus were joined by red spatters of blood.

I could only watch, my task forgotten, as it threw him one, final time. His broken body flopped against the floor, bleeding from everywhere and nowhere; there was too much blood to make out any wounds. One of his arms was broken, the bone jutting out of his flesh at an impossible angle. His lathi clattered away, now a useless stick of wood against the bulk of the horror. Still, more out of habit than anything else, he tried to reach for it.

The creature pulled itself forward and threw its entire body on top of his. His screams were muffled by its slimy flesh, even as his one good arm scratched weakly against its slick skin, already blackening and burning from its mucus. A moment later, it began chewing, its mouths chomping and slobbering. Even muffled, the sounds of tearing flesh and gurgling blood were unmistakable. The screams grew louder, giving way to piteous cries.

“Bose! Bose!” Krishnamurthy’s voice was barely audible, as if coming from the end of an impossibly long tunnel.

My vision tunnelled, every other inch of the room growing black and invisible. All I could see was the monster and its victim, mouths opening and closing in perfect rhythm, arms thrashing and grabbing in pleased satiety as it ate.

A loud bang snapped me out. Krishnamurthy had fired his revolver into the air. “Gun! Now, Bose!”

The creature finished eating. Two of its hands descended as its bulk raised itself off the corpse, closing around the dead man’s one good limb and ripping it away. It attached it to its flesh, knots of tissue growing to connect it. The veins bulged and darkened with poison, bones snapping as they elongated. The skin grew paler. The arm began to move again.

I returned to the locker. I still do not know which god smiled upon me at that moment, but as soon as I grabbed the next gun, my flesh hummed. As if someone had struck me with a tuning fork. I raised it to the light. Along the metal of the barrel, engraved lettering ran in spirals, painstakingly carved by practised hands.

The creature must have felt the same thing I did. It whined, shuffling as fast as it could towards me.

Have you ever walked onto the road and turned to see a car barrelling towards you at full speed? I have. At that moment, I felt the same way. Like a deer in headlights. I was stuck, able to clearly see my impending fate but able to do nothing about it.

But my body knew there was no time to waste, even if I did not. Training took over, hands effortlessly opening the ammo box and loading the rifle. It was an old model, very archaic. Even more so than the ones used for training at the academy. Learning the works took a precious few seconds, but eventually, the mechanisms clicked into place.

It was almost upon me, arms reaching to swipe my weapon out of my hands.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt ran through me. The lathi had failed. What guarantee did I have that the gun wouldn’t? Would I die like this, in a meaningless last stand with a useless weapon?

What other choice did I have?

I raised the gun. I aimed. I fired.

The runes blazed to life, energy traveling along the barrel’s length in an instant. The bullet came with more force than expected, knocking me back five full steps as it closed the irrelevant distance to the target. As soon as it touched the creature’s mucus-laded skin, it burned a fiery white. Then, instead of slowing down, it sped up, tearing straight through and out the other side in a blink. Its flesh exploded into a ragged hole, miniature explosions continuing in the bullet’s wake as it punched straight through the stick station walls and out into the night.

The runes along the barrel fizzled and died. They would not fire again.

But it had done its job. The creature staggered for a few more steps, an arm almost touching me. Its mouths and limbs convulsed haphazardly, in death throes. Then, it collapsed, buckling onto the floor. Its weight cracked the floor where it fell, but it was gone. Its flesh sunk and withered, even as we watched, turning into a desiccated husk, and then dust. The door, finally unobstructed, swung shut. All that remained behind were the pale arms, scar tissue still clinging to their ends. They began to bleed, blood glinting darkly in the pale lantern light.

 I dropped the rifle, grabbed the lantern off the desk, and crossed the distance to the broken lathial on the ground. Amazingly, he was still alive, only an eye moving, frantically focusing on me as I came into view.

It bore a question.

I nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s gone.”

His gaze relaxed. With great difficulty, he raised his broken arm, pressing his bloody palm against my uniform.

What was he trying to say?

Thank you? This is your fault? Save the Thakur?

I will never know. The next moment, the light finally left his eyes, and his duty was fulfilled. The hand slowly flopped to the ground, leaving a smear of red along the front of my uniform.

The rest of the night was spent in silence. We took a few more rifles and ammo boxes, though we did not know how long they would work. We left the body behind; it was too heavy to move. Mr, Krishnamurthy and I took the prisoner and entered the deserted streets. For once, he did not resist.

Sounds of fighting were only rising in the distance, but our surroundings were mercifully quiet… for now. The nearest temple was only a few buildings away. The priest ushered us in as soon as he saw us, studiously ignoring the bloodstains as he re-barricaded the door. He has been praying the entire night. Even as dawn begins to peek from the horizon and I append these final words, he has not stopped. None of us have slept a wink. I have not let go of my rifle even once.

For the first time, even Krishnamurthy does not know what the morning will bring, except a question.

What now?

From across the city Hiram heard the whistle, then the thumps of artillery, followed quickly by the tremendous cacophony of a steam explosion. The hair on the back of Hiram’s neck stood up in recognition. During the siege of Freeport, he was standing entirely too close to a freighter when a lucky shell struck and the boiler exploded. He’ll never forget - try as he might - the sounds and the smells from that catastrophe.  

He couldn't hear the screams of those injured, but he knew from experience what it sounded like, and was silently glad he didn’t have to hear it again. Even though he was a magic user by trade, he knew all too well how much damage mundane machinery makes when it was explosively taken apart. Dust and plaster fell from the ceiling and Hiriam put his hand over his mug to protect his coffee, and his silver rings clink on the ceramic. To make the building shake at this distance, the train must have been at full pressure. There were sure to be injuries from falling red-hot steel. Better to stay inside for a while longer.

Hiram had been ordered by the Invar Royal Magisterium to observe the Velmarians and try to gauge how powerful their magical forces were. Velmar historically did not invest in the thaumaturgical arts, preferring machines. For some reason, during this campaign season, magic was seen across the battlefield combined with the mechanized war machines they already had that proved to be a deciding force. Velmar’s newest leader had decided that a war of conquest was just the thing to get his people’s minds off the recent coup that installed him, and he was unfortunately correct. The vitriol spewing from the Velmarian press about the Invarians would make a military general blush. Hiram did not know a lot about mundane matters, but he did know that Invarians did not in fact eat their infirm. 

Surely there were others at the Magisterium who could have been sent to observe? Hiram silently cursed his superiors. It’s not like I’m the only one who has ever reported on magic use among an enemy. Why me? Hadn’t he seen enough destruction? But no; they told him how skilled he was, how observant; the honeyed words all the sweeter to their ears because it meant that they would not be the ones going into a warzone.

He sighed and then blew the dust from the back of his hand as he heard the volunteer fire brigade run past, their brass bell ringing to order people to step aside. Better to sit here and drink coffee; watered down, but at least it was still real. The carnage wasn’t caused by magical means, Hiram didn’t need to add another tableau to his nightmares. This was one of the few places that still had access to real beans. Being a city under siege had led to shortages. People were roasting nuts, seeds, tubers, whatever they could find, just to try and make something that looked like coffee. All those cups of trickery did was reinforce the fact that the Invarians were scraping the bottom of the barrel while also pretending things weren’t as bad as they were. It wouldn’t even be that bad if they just called it “coffee substitute”. But no, the cafe owners and cart proprietors had to call it coffee and stand there smiling blithely as if you didn’t know it was just acorns roasted black.  

The announcement that all trains would be considered military targets didn’t suprise Hiram in the least. The city had already been surrounded for two weeks, and the folks that Hiram spoke to were surprised how quickly things were running out. Hiram was not new to a siege, and was more familiar with how quickly a city will run out of provisions. Cities are alive, and require regular meals of people and supplies to be healthy. Starve a city and it will die quickly. Worse, they did not attack every train. Either by accident or by design, a macabre lottery was brought into being. You never knew if you had boarded the right train.

 Burgomaster Ulmar had ordered the trains to run anyway. A city leader, dressed in a military style uniform, his self-awarded medals straining against a middle with too many rich meals and too few hours spent walking about his city. Hiram was all too familiar with that type of leader. At least the Burgomaster of Freeport had tried to encourage blockade runners and smugglers to bring supplies in. Ulmar was trying to bluster and swagger his way out of the crisis instead of trying to find help.

In the early days of the siege, people had streamed aboard the trains hoping to outrun the Velmarian artillery, but the accuracy of the Velmanrians ended that hope with a finality. They knew from where the trains would be coming, so every time one left, they could - if they so chose - fire artillery the moment the train was in range. As the days pressed forward, so too did the artillery. Hiram gripped his mug tighter as he tried to avoid coming to terms with the fact that the artillery was going to strike the buildings and walls of Terminid very soon, probably before this time tomorrow.  It was only because Terminid was at the end of the northern rail line did they have trains to run at all. 

Just this morning he'd overheard from a porter buying a broadsheet that there were only two trains left. One was now destroyed. Despite that, he was certain people would be flocking to the remaining train. It was their only hope of leaving a city quickly running out of resources. Being killed by a bomb was a much preferable death to slow starvation. People also tried to escape through the forests, but that route held its own dangers.

Hiram sat in the empty cafe and unfolded his broadsheet as more people outside rushed towards the site of the explosion. The rescue forces had already passed, so this was just plain folks going to gawk. Entertainment was thin in a besieged city, so they did what they could. Difficulty in getting ink and paper meant that The Caller had been reduced to a single page, but at least it was something to read. News outside the city was scant and unreliable, but everyone that could still picked up their paper and read, grasping at some semblance of routine in the besieged city. He could have stayed in his hotel room and planned his exit, but Hiram decided to go about his business as normally as he could. He learned from the siege Cliffwing knew that sitting around waiting for the inevitable was no way to live. His knee throbbed at the memory of his fall there.

“Another coffee sir?” Even though Hiram was the only person here, the server still walked up with a smart silver cart. Only the top had a single pot of coffee and one plate of pastries under a glass cloche. “A pastry perhaps?” 

Hiram liked this cafe, as not only was it close to his hotel, but it had a refined, elegant ambiance. The tile floors and gas lamps felt modern, out of step with the rest of the city.

“No, thank you.” Hiram started to fold up his broadsheet. If the server was asking him if he wanted seconds, then it was time to leave. 

The server lifted the cloche. “Please sir, at least take a pastry. For free. The ovens are hot and we’re trying to use up the butter and flour before it spoils. Timmins the owner left yesterday, and told us to throw away what’s left. Can you believe it?” The server shook his head. “What a waste. Naturally, we’re ignoring him and trying to cook as many things before we leave. Please. Take one.”

Hiram’s hand hovered over the pastries for just a moment. He knew that others needed food more than he did. His once ample frame had done its work helping to shield him from some of the ravages of hunger this time. Still, it would be rude to refuse at this point. He selected a small  butter danish and took a bite. It was hot and flaky, and his stomach did an exemplary job reminding him of the last time he ate. Meals had been thin and light as of late, as resources dwindled. Too often Hiram passed over eating so that someone else could when he was in a besieged city. He never regretted it. The faces of the children in Ligninville as he handed them the sack of apples he bought with more money than they had ever seen in his life. Their cries of joy as something as simple as an apple was better tasting than any cake they would eat.

His unnaturally striped nails showed the scars of someone who was intimately familiar with starvation. Less visible were his false teeth, a souvenir of his first siege, New Draftover when he contracted scurvy. He could have healed them magically, but the dentures didn’t bother him too much - most of the time - and he felt it would have been an insult to the memory of those that were lost when he survived. It had been a while since things had gotten that bad, but the stomach remembered. 

After eating the pastry he said “Take the rest to the Church of the Revenant. They’ll hand it out to those who need it.” Hiram gave him a gold guilder and the server blanched.

“Sir, I cannot give you change for that.” His whisper was loud in one of those random moments of silence when there was commotion outside. People had started dragging stretchers back from the site of the explosion, and Hiram determinedly did not turn around to look at them. The gold coin was probably more money than he had seen in a month.

Hiram snapped his coin purse shut, stood, and tucked the broadsheet under his arm. “I expect no change. Please take it. There is precious little I can spend it on here, maybe after all this is done you can make use of it.” What use was money when there was nothing to buy? The coins in his purse laughed at him when they jangled as he walked. Even the richest person in the city couldn’t buy safety right now.

“Y-yes sir, thank you.” The server walked to the back of the empty cafe staring down at the coin, his cart ignored. Hiram’s hand reached out and grabbed another pastry, almost without him realizing it, and walked out. 

He stepped into the crowd of people dragging and carrying the injured and dead to St Helena’s hospital. Nearly as soon as he found his footing with the crowd, the deafening sound of a cleft opening - like the Goddess herself ripping cloth - made him stop. People screamed and flowed around him like water as they tried to escape the magic happening in the sky above them. Hiram stood fast, planting his feet against the crowd and set his shoulders against people bumping them. As the cleft finished forming, an artificial silence descended. It was as if his ears were stuffed with rubber bungs. The people around him, desperate to escape, were still yelling and screaming, but Hiram heard none of it. He must be directly under the cleft for that to happen. He was hearing the silence on the other side being transmitted through. Opening a cleft that large was not simple magic to perform, it took a group of five magisters hours at least to make a medium sized opening from scratch. 

He looked up at the cleft. The sky had split asunder, the ragged edges of there and here had a painful purple and black border. Through the rending of space, he was able to look up and find that he was looking down upon another city from a height that was probably very close to the height of this cleft. The other city was very similar, though not identical. For one, that city was not currently being besieged by Velmarian forces; they wouldn’t attack their own city. In the silence pouring out of the cleft, he could hear sirens in the mirror city. If he focused, he could see the bustle of people in the mirror city as well. It looked to be sunny there. Hiram wondered if the residents of that city looked up in surprise or satisfaction at the cleft.

For just a moment, Hiram wanted to shout to the people panicking around him that this was an incredible use of magic, something like this took decades of training and required the work and effort of possibly dozens of magisters. It was… beautiful. He reached into his pocket without taking his eyes off the cleft and clicked a stopwatch. He could feel it ticking, the potential energy of the tightly wound spring being converted to a motion; a power different to his own, but still, power. 

Finally, he could see what he came all this way for. 

Ignoring the view of the city and tearing his mind away from the feat that he was witnessing, he estimated the size, stability, and power output of the opening. This was a larger cleft than the Velmarians had ever cast before. 

Motion caught his eye. Hiram saw dirigibles, huge and grey, trying to reach the cleft. Oily black smoke streamed from rockets attached to the gondolas, a dangerous attempt to make the dash across to rain destruction on Terminid. Before the attackers could traverse the cleft, and find their targets, the tear was closed. Hiram clicked the stopwatch again and took it out. Seven and three tenths of a second. He put the stopwatch away and looked back towards the street, his face carefully neutral. Last week they could only hold a cleft open for five, and they had never attempted one large enough to send dirigibles through.

With the sealing of the cleft, there was a moment before the sounds came rushing back. Hiram blinked and winced at the screams. Everyone was still around him in a blind panic. If he wasn’t careful now, he would be knocked down and trampled, an ignominious end to Magister Hiram Hilman.  Fortunately, the crowd was still streamed towards St Helena’s and his hotel was on the way. He moved with the crowd, silent as they screamed, face thoughtful as their were twisted up in fear. Hiram had a flash of realization as he continued back to his hotel. He should be more frightened. This was objectively a terrifying thing. Not one hour ago, the Velmarians destroyed a train and killed hundreds. Then, a few seconds ago, they attempted to bomb the city via air by means of the largest cleft he had ever seen. The Velmarians were pushing to end the siege, they were no longer content to starve everyone out.  Come to think of it he had noticed that as of late, he… felt things less intensely. He could recognize situations when he would be happy, or satisfied, or frightened, but he… didn’t feel them. He had a job to do, there was no time to be frightened. If he told himself that enough times, he would eventually believe it. 

The Hotel Ocularum wasn’t the largest hotel in the city, it wasn’t the nicest, nor the cheapest. However, it was close to the Magisterium and because of that it still was popular with visiting faculty. The crowd was thinning enough so that Hiram could make it to the edge and was able to push through the revolving doors, and was rewarded with being nearly knocked over by a porter wheeling a cart full of crates and boxes towards the back exit. Waving away the hurried apology, he went to the front desk.

The clerk was nowhere to be found. Hiram peeked around the large dark counter and found that it was cleared out. As he dithered about going behind the counter, the day clerk appeared from the back room, wearing their coat and carrying a canvas tote. “Magister Hilman! I thought you had checked out!” 

Hiram winced at his title. He didn’t feel like a Magister, an expert at the thaumaturgical arts. He barely felt like a person these days. “I am checking out tomorrow. I have a ticket for the train.”

As the clerk threw pens and papers and other things into his bag he quickly looked at Hiram, maybe to see if he was joking. Seeing his expression he went back to his packing. “You’re going to risk the trains? Magister-”

“Hiram is fine. Mister Hilman if you must.”

“Mister Hilman. The hotel has closed. We’re all leaving in anticipation of the Velmarian’s entering the city tomorrow.”

Hiram thought back to the cleft and the dirigibles rocketing towards it. “Have you heard any specifics?”

The clerk shook his head. “Nothing official. But everyone thinks they’re going to make their move tomorrow, Augury said that it’s coming tomorrow, before midday for sure.”

Hiram frowned. He didn’t trust Augury to divine the weather if they looked out a window. Still, he couldn't completely ignore their predictions. Coming or not, he still had to submit his report and leave the city. He’d have to send something tonight… just in case. “Nevertheless, I have a ticket for tomorrow’s train and I do not relish the thought of spending the night sleeping fitfully on a bench in the station. Can I keep the room?”

“You’re going to stay here overnight yourself? Most of the staff has left already. It’s just me and a few porters cleaning up.”

Looting most likely. Hiram couldn’t blame them though. Plenty of things could be bartered for some food and they weren’t doing anyone any good locked up in a hotel. He’s done more than his share of… liberating items that were no longer needed from those with no means to recover them. 

The clerk stopped looting and looked back at the keys and then to Hiram. He went back to stuffing things into his bag. Hiram watched for a few seconds and couldn’t help but think of ways to defeat the clerk so he could at least go up and collect his belongings. The thought brought him no satisfaction and only made his stomach sour, ruining the pleasant feeling of the pastries from earlier. 

“Gods damn it.” The clerk swore and placed the key on the counter. “You’re welcome to your room, Magister. In fact,” he rummaged behind the counter and produced a bottle of brandy, “here. Please take it. We’ve got more than we can carry, and it’ll just get taken by the Vels.” His smile carried no joy behind it. “You could always just get wasted and await the Vel’s entrance into the city.”

Hiram’s knee twinged as he reached out slowly towards the bottle. Alcohol was not curative, but it might dull the memories for a bit. “Uh, thank you, uhm…?”

“Warren, sir. My name is Warren.”

“Thank you Warren. I wish you luck. May the Bright Lady smile upon your escape.”

Warren smiled lopsidedly. “I don’t need Her blessing, but thank you all the same.  Me and a few people from the neighborhood are going to cut through the woods. We’re going to stay off the main roads and away from the rails. That should keep us away from the Vels. You know how they are with people they capture.” Hiram did know. Velmarians had an unpleasant tendency to practice marksmanship on the lucky captives. The sight of the unlucky captives still haunted his nightmares.

Hiram’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s wise, Warren? The Woodfolk-”

“We’ll be fine Magi- er, Mister Hilman. My buddy Fenchuch says she knows some Woodfolk and they’ll let her pass. She’s sure if she vouches for us, we’ll be fine too.” Warren turned his head away from Hiram quickly. He apparently had decided that anything Hiram had to say wasn’t worth his time.  “It’s better than standing here, waiting to be shot by the Vels anyway.”

Hiram took the key and the bottle. “Even if they allow you passage Warren, be wary of the Woodfolk. They do not care for us.” He remembered the last time he came across the Woodfolk.  Tall, angular people smelling like petrichor. The whistle of their terrible stone axes which were thick enough to be clubs, humming through the air. The meaty noise when stone connected with flesh. The wet screams of the Magister initiates falling to the attack, and their panicked chants rising into screams as they hurriedly read the prewritten spell scrolls trying to cast shields despite the loss of their fellows, stumbling over the complicated words, slipping on the hand gestures, collapsing into a gibbering mass of death as Hiram fled.

Hiram suppressed a shudder, and gripped the bottle tighter by the neck, almost holding it like a club before he caught himself.

William, not noticing his reaction, frowned and stood straighter, locking his eyes with Hiram. “With all due respect, Magister, they don’t care for you. Us mundanes have no quarrel with them.”

Hiram stared back, his expression blank. The boy would learn one way or another. Willam broke the stare first. “That does not mean they have no quarrel with you for living and working with people like me, though I take your meaning. Still, good luck.” Hiram said, forcing himself to speak with some semblance of joviality. It was wearing to pretend.

“Thank you sir. Good night.” William closed the case he was holding, and looked up at Hiram as if he wanted to say something, but then thinking better of it, turned and walked out.

The long hall at the top of the stairs was dark, lit only by the light spilling in from the open doors of the other rooms. He creaked down the wooden halls, the only noise in the hotel. Normally at this hour he could have expected to hear laughter and conversation from the pub, people in the game room losing and winning miniscule fortunes, and people working the oldest trade. Now? Silence. He unlocked his door, touched the charging rune on the wall, and warm yellow light filled the room bringing false cheer. Hiram sighed and made a complicated gesture with his right hand and the lights dimmed. With nobody around, he felt no compunction to hide what he was, hide his skill.  Hiram shut the door behind him and clicked the lock and deadbolt.  

He opened a cabinet near his bed and took out a fine crystal glass. Working deftly, he removed the cork from the brandy bottle and poured out a healthy measure. He sat at his writing desk and stared at the drink for a moment. He had witnessed the fall of five cities already and he would be damned if he was going to witness a sixth. Bright Lady Protect him, tomorrow it will be all over, one way or another. If he was going to take the train, he would have to get his report out to the Magisterium ahead of him. They needed to know. He took a sip. It really was quite good brandy. He sipped again.

Hiram spent two hours writing. He updated his journal, compiled his report; carefully rolling it up and sealing it with wax. His eyes moved to the thin but strong letter paper he had in his writing kit. Taking a rather large gulp of the brandy, Hiram started a letter home three times before he gave up. No matter what he wrote, it sounded false, unnecessarily upbeat. Who was he trying to soothe after all? Carefully putting his writing kit away, he drank the rest of the brandy in the glass, and poured another large measure.

He reached under his bed and slid out a large leather case. After touching the runes sewn into the seams, the lock clicked and the case popped open. In between leather dividers was a selection of folded silk cloths, almost like bedsheets; a selection of precomposed spells for easy use and re-use. They were mostly for the younger Magisters or those who had a low affinity, but Hiriam always carried some when he was in the field. They had their uses. His hand paused over the sheets for a moment; he could do the spell without one, but he was already exhausted from the day and this was easier. His mind automatically went back to the thump of the explosion and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not hear it again. He took another gulp of brandy and selected a spell sheet and spread it out on the floor of his room. Block printing on the sheet showed a complicated constellation of runes in blue, red, and black ink. If one stared at it too long, they would start to get a headache, and the sharply printed edges of the printing would blur.

Looking up at the door to make doubly sure the room was locked - William had left, right? He was probably halfway to his death at the hands of the Woodfolk by now -  Hiram tossed back the rest of the brandy in one swallow and stared down at the runes. Pouring his essence into the runes and singing the sacred words, he implored the Bright Lady to let him borrow some of her power. Hiram didn’t like the statue of her at the Magisteriums, she was always shown as much too… beautiful. Tall, long hair, amble bust, it was almost an insult to her. She was power, was light, was the essence that he felt every time he let his concentration slip for just a moment. She wasn’t some pretty, young, waifish woman. The Bright Lady towered over you, intense, and you had to fight to remain standing in her presence. 

As he incanted, there was a sound like a tailor ripping bolts of fabric for use. It was possible to make a cleft large enough to just step through, but that output of energy would be more than enough to alert the Velmarians of his position. A much smaller cleft, barely the size of a dumbwaiter, would have to do. Through it he saw Eleanor, his aide-de-camp seated at a high writing desk. He clicked his stopwatch and called to her. “Elenor, I have a report.”

Elenor practically jumped out of her seat. “Hiram! You’re alive! I heard that the Velmarians-”

Hiram cut her off. “If you heard it from Augury, then they are - once again - mistaken. I swear if they took just one moment to look up from their entrails they would see-” He stopped and his shoulders fell as he realized he was about to commence another rant.  “The Velmarians have not invaded yet. Tomorrow.”

“Why are you risking a cleft now? We know they can detect thaumaturgical energies, you are in danger.” She wrung her hands unconsciously as she spoke. She had always been an office worker, and had never been in the field. She read reports, but it wasn’t the same as seeing things. 

As if to punctuate that statement, there was a large explosion nearby. That was artillery. The shelling had begun. Hiram winced and Elenor’s eyes went wide. “I know, Elenor; this is as small as I could manage, and I’m keeping track of the time open. I am taking the last train out, but the trains are being attacked. I’m not sure that I will survive another day here. I must submit my report before I board. They were able to hold open a cleft large enough to attempt to send their dirigibles through.  More than seven seconds.”

She gasped. “They captured more Magisters.”

Hiram nodded. “Captured or turned yes. They must have at least two dozen. They are coming, this city is lost.” He held up the rolled and sealed report. “Catch” and tossed it through the cleft. As it passed through, he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Elenor caught the report and looked down at it. Without looking up she said. “Be safe Hiram. I will see you soon. I know this, and you should too. May the Bright Lady smile upon you.”

“And you as well, Elenor.” Hiram broke concentration, and the cleft sealed. He checked his stopwatch. Almost thirty nine seconds. He kept it open far too long. That was more than enough time for a Magister looking for energy spikes to focus on him. He doused the lights and packed up in the dark. He thought he heard thudding footfalls from the rear entrance of the hotel as he made his way downstairs. Probably his imagination, but better to not risk it.

Shouldering his case, Hiram left the hotel, and made his way towards the train station among the noise of artillery and machine gun fire. He had hoped to get one more night’s rest, but it was far too dangerous to remain in one place now. He would have to take his chances walking the city until the train left. Spotlights illuminated the clouds above and the city was unusually bright. His head swimming slightly from the brandy, Hiram pondered the spotlights. They illuminated everything in a yellow white light. He could think of ten different magical ways to achieve the same effect, yet the mundanes have done it all on their own. 

The streets were fortunately deserted this late at night, the residents hiding in cellars and churches; he made it to the station without issue. The artillery noises seemed like they were coming from the other side of the city, so he was relatively safe here for now. If they were coming from the other side, that meant a pincer maneuver. Come the dawn they would strike two sides at once. Hiram looked back at the way he came. No lights, no fire, no screaming, no gigantic clefts open in the sky with dirigibles pouring through; he just might get out of this city after all.

The large station clock - the glass cracked from the previous attack on the train, but still operating - showed that he had more than six hours to wait before the scheduled departure of his train. Standing close, he could hear the ticks of the seconds; a slow cadence. The train - his train - was in the station and the locomotive steamed quietly to itself. Railroad workers swarmed over the train, oiling and checking and polishing; some even seemed to be attempting to weld makeshift armor over some of the glass windows. There was a small group of soldiers attempting to bolt a gun on a tripod to the roof of the water car. He briefly thought about offering his services to assist - magic could attach the metal easily - but he was still tired from the cleft. It had taken more out of him than he had thought; maybe the Bright Lady was displeased with him for some reason. If… When he got back, he should visit her shrine and light an offering. He has been lax in his duties to her in these past weeks. He sat on a bench on the platform and watched the workers. Hopefully in a few hours the conductors would allow people to board early.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

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So while some crews like to hear spinechilling tales of terror that only the timely intervention of a human staved off, I won’t be telling you one of those today.

Instead I’ll be telling you about the new Human world.

As a reminder, the Mining Guild detonated the Human cradle for ‘resources’ or so they claim and after a while the Federation Council got off their collective frizims and designated a system as being owned by humans once we got officially recognized.

There is a human colloquialism of ‘a diamond in the rough’, describing an item which may appear less desirable initially, but will be far more beautiful given time and attention.

This system was not one of those.

The star is a yellow supergiant for a start. Technically similar to the star we humans were living under in terms of spectrum, but ours was a main sequence star. So that right there means we weren’t too thrilled with the negotiation skills of the being who calls themselves the human ambassador, but we’ll get back to that waste of water and energy in a moment.

There are 4 planets and about a dozen planetoids and the reason nobody mined out this system or colonized it before us was that the gravity is high, there’s no liquid water anywhere in the system, and there’s a large swarm of comets that cycles through the system every 10 years or so.

Remember that ambassador and that saying I said before? Well, that’s exactly what he thought. He guessed at having access to terraforming technology and that these were diamonds in the rough in their own right, but forgot to actually negotiate for them. The Federation never got so lucky as they did with him.

And how he got into that role is anyone’s guess, although as many of you can probably correctly assume, he almost certainly paid enough of the right people off to get it.

So then humanity is now officially stuck with a system that is either too hot for liquid water or too cold for it, with comet swarms that come through on the regular, and no terraforming technologies to try and make any of it possible.

Perhaps one small saving grace is that two of the three planets have a human breathable atmosphere (mostly).

I’ve been there now that they’ve had about 40 years to get established.

It’s almost hilarious to tell you of the Marianas Trench, the official name for the first and capitol city of that system. The name is taken from a long gone feature on the human cradle, the whole of the city is buried within a trench with a dome capping it.

Buildings are buried into the sides of the trench, many of them running deeper than the surface would make you think, but there’s a reason for this. Light, being the commodity that it is for any planetsiders, is required to be able to make it to the bottom of the trench.

Why, you might ask?

Because that is where all that has and can be recreated in terms of human vegetation, animals, and more reside.

It is a strange thing to walk through the arboretum, the greenhouses, and the preserves that make up the base of the trench, the city dominating the walls all around, the dome overhead, and a weather system that even the engineers managing the place can’t fully control.

My maternal progenitor insisted that I visit at least once, to know about the stories of my greater progenitors put into context.

Somehow, I doubt very much that tigers and lions, large non-sapient (by Galactic Federation standards) carnivores lived adjacent to one another.

It is perhaps humbling though. Because all of what is there is what is left. Even I can’t pretend like we didn’t lose a lot in the process.

Supposedly, some humans started an effort to go back to the cradle and collect some sort of special seed vault, something which may still have samples of vegetation and other biological samples. I have no idea where that is at in terms of planning or making it happen, but I can’t say as I have too much faith in the prospect.

It is also fun to see what animals didn’t used to be domesticated, but now are, at least to some degree.

Some humans keep animals as pets, some as livestock, and others simply to have them.

Peacocks are pretty common and for anyone in the audience who hasn’t encountered one, be prepared. While they are only about as tall as a human middle, they are non-sapient avians who can be exceedingly noisy. They come in all manner of colors, they are known to hunt some kinds of vermin, and they are surprisingly protective. Plus, they lay eggs, which many humans like to eat.

On the human cradle, they were present, but by no means the most common household pets.

Doggos and kittos, both four legged and furry pets that vary in sizes from the size of a human boot to as big or bigger than some humans, were the most popular back on the cradle, but while they did come with us, they just don’t have the same demand as they used to.

There are all manner of other non-sapient creatures from the human cradle which humans have and that we spread from ourselves, as well as those which we take in from other groups.

I myself have what’s officially called a domesticated fisher cat. Her name is Percy and she likes to ride around on my shoulder when she can. She’s got fur, eats almost anything I give her (except for turbia fruit), and loves to bounce around whatever my living quarters happen to be. And being as big as she is, most crews are more comfortable with her versus some of the human-domesticated cat-snakes. Especially since Percy tends to follow the smell of food to where-ever somebeing is eating or preparing food, instead of ending up lodged in walls, nibbling on wiring.

Percy isn’t as big as the domesticated bearcat, and I’m told the two aren’t related at all, but to look at them, you’d almost never know it.

Plus Percy is from cold weather climates, so she’s a lot better suited to a spacers life.

Anyway, back to the Trench.

There isn’t the same sort of class or caste divisions that there used to be on the cradle, but there are still some. The better buildings and houses tend to be in the middle of the trench rather than towards the ends, folks who work on the surface tend to live closer to it and so the folks who can afford to not work outside the dome tend to live deeper in the trench.

There’s a few richer sections that are up high, next to the dome, and those tend to be pretty exclusive to get into. So exclusive in fact that they’re actually having trouble getting members. Apparently, some of them founded the areas/buildings/clubs on ideas that their forebears brought with them from the cradle. Utter nonsense if you ask me, things like divine right and wealth as a kind of estimate of moral investiture and even the heritage of a being having some bearing on whether a being was ‘pre-endowed’ with the right qualifications.

As a 2nd generation spacer, I think it’s idiotic. Mostly because I’ve seen enough of the Galactic Federation to see that none of that really matters in the face of time and physics. Being from a particular set of families may mean you have certain biological factors helping you, but it won’t stop you from dying when the atmospheric generators go out or if the shielding fails or if you eat a pile of demarta worms.

Being wealthy doesn’t mean the Galactic Federation will automatically drop everything the instant they get your mayday signal. I mean… they will send somebody, but it won’t be the best and the brightest. And if you demand that it be someone or somebeing in particular, even moreso.

I won’t say that it doesn’t have privileges but in the face of time and physics in space, nobody and nothing cares. The universe doesn’t care. It isn’t malevolent or benevolent. It just is. And there’s so many planetsiders who forget that or who have never learned to actually consider it.

Anyway, so while there is some classism still technically in the trench, it tends mostly to depend on what a being does for work as to where a being lives.

Transport is strictly government run, which is very different from on the cradle. Supposedly, this is a form of control, or so the skeptics would have you believe, but ultimately, it’s a matter of space. There’s only so much space within the trench and so the best way to manage that is to have government controlled transport.

Now, I know I mentioned the trench a lot. So why not outside of it?

Well, the planet in question is so hot that outside of the dome, there’s no liquid water. It’s all atmospheric. And while there have been some efforts to cool the planet off a bit, those are slow and require a lot of doing to make sure the scientists and engineers and politicians don’t manage to screw up the atmosphere, although most politicians manage that just by talking.

So most of what is above the trench are the primary infrastructure for the trench - rows and rows and rows of solar arrays, water collection units, massive thermal systems channeling heat into various compounds for sale space side to use in passive heating, and all the other items you would associate with having life, planetside or stationside.

One obvious bonus for this planet is that we do have a space elevator. It is a pretty standard unit that humanity bought from the Bivir for a percentage on all energy and minerals transported to or from the surface for 80 years from installation.

So that’s one planet.

The other planet with a mostly breathable atmosphere is so cold that there isn’t any liquid water, so a decent chunk of those compounds from the trench end up there, being used to provide heat to the city and colony there.

With the human name of Skyrim, a joke my parents refuse to let me in on, it mimics the Trench in a lot of ways, but is also very different.

They have some of the same kind of centralized transport, built around the space elevator, same sort as the one on the trench and for the same deal, and the majority of the population live in domes, albeit more for heat retention than water retention.

The beings of Skyrim tend to be hearty types, the sort that can easily adapt to spacer life and just as easily leave it behind. They don’t suffer fools and they don’t let anyone forget just how delicate all our machinations are in the face of the universe.

And I say beings because there are a number of Bivir and other species who live on Skyrim with the humans there. Beings who have to be just as hearty or moreso to make it work.

On Skyrim, there are no rich, no poor, no workers and bosses, there’s just people. Sure, there’s a kind of hierarchy, but that’s flexible and nobody has any more real power than anyone else. It’s a kind of democratic republic except that such a thing is much more organized than what they have. I don’t even know if there is a name for their system of governance, but as I’m no political expert and no desire to be, I don’t care.

The storms of Skyrim are known to crack domes and even rattle the space elevator, but we humans are stubborn if nothing else.

When I visited the system, I was on Skyrim for all of two days before leaving and knowing that if I was ever to be planetside in the human system, I would pick Skyrim over the trench any day.

While the hardships of Skyrim carry brutal lessons for everybeing, spacers included, the hospitality there is unmatched.

The food is grown much as it is in the trench, but in massive environmental domes, where the workers almost sleep alongside the cradle-carried and propagated plants, the domes being the warmest places on the planet.

Geothermal vents are used where possible for power and heat, the food domes getting priority, but the feasting tables are not to be ignored.

Great plates of all kinds of foods, raw, cooked, fermented, salted, preserved, and more. And it makes no difference if you’re the poorest worker or the current mining leader. Everyone gets a place at the table and everyone gets enough to eat.

Where it isn’t equal in the amount of heat allocated and for such a world, that is understandable and where heat is such a commodity, just as light is in the trench, it’s very common for those higher to have more heat than those lower in the hierarchy.

But, as a kind of strange consequence then, those who are higher tend to rest alone in their heat, while those who are lower very commonly rest in groups, sharing their heat and company. And while some find heat attractive in such a culture, having a way outward and to a world that has nothing but heat vice choosing to stay in such a place, they rarely stay for long if that is the kind of values that they have.

And other than the two semi-habitable worlds, there’s a thriving spacer culture. Ships and stations that mine through the system, working to make it a decent trading port of call and having something to call our own.

Most of my time in the system was spent in space.

I can’t and won’t say that it is impressive. It isn’t. I’ve been to the trading ports of Undir and the shipyards surrounding Revib.

But for what it is, it isn’t a bad spot. Perhaps not quite where we as humans would have chosen to go, and certainly not the alleged ‘diamond in the rough’, but it’s a start and for good or ill, that’s better than nothing.

But for now, I think I need another round of Dcxi chips before I have another drink and start telling truly outrageous stories.

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I love the community here, and they've really been great, but I don't just write SciFi. Does anyone know if theres a sub here that is like HFY but for fantasy? Something that is more writing based and likes to see serialized stories?

Endgame

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

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In the end, it took five elves to hold Ugruk down while they bound him hand and foot, with another holding a sword blade to his throat. He glared death at all of them, but could not fight effectively against such steep odds. Adomar wilted inside as Ugruk’s gaze passed over him, but he could not so much as show a hint of remorse until he had done as ordered and brought the intruder to the Darkmage.

The robed elf sneered as Ugruk was dragged into his presence, the rope bonds making it impossible for him to walk, or even shuffle. “Ah, good. But no orc would come alone. Who came with this one? Show yourself.”

Obediently, Adomar stepped forward. “I did.”

The Darkmage looked him up and down, then peered at his face. “You are Adomar Brighteye, brother of Ramoda. You came to rescue your sister from me.” The scorn in his voice made the word sound positively obscene.

All of this was true, however. “I did.”

“And you came in the company of an orc.” The Darkmage’s tone suggested that he was talking about the lowest of the low. “Where did you come from?” He held up the metal plaque that Adomar had been carrying tied to his belt. “What is this?”

“We came from a prison camp.” Adomar strove mightily to cease the flow of information from his mouth, but his lips and tongue moved onward of their own volition. “We were issued those as parole markers, so that human soldiers would not kill us as enemy combatants.”

“Pfh. And you intended to honour it?” The Darkmage’s lip curled in contempt.

“Yes,” confirmed Adomar. “My only intent was to locate and rescue my sister.” He managed to fight past the inclination to say just the truth, to add more. “Ugruk—”

“Silence unless spoken to!” The harsh command stopped the words in his throat. Studying the plaque, the Darkmage frowned. “I can read Dwarven, but this is nonsense to me. What does it say?”

Adomar took a breath. “The name of the parolee, in human words. Humans stopped us but let us pass, once we told them our names and they read the plaques.”

“Hmm.” As the Darkmage stroked his chin, Adomar felt an unnamed dread creep down his back. “So, if you were to carry this, humans would not suspect you of being hostile to them.”

“That is true. But if—” But if I broke parole, then I would die.

“I said silence.” A cruel smile spread across the Darkmage’s features. It looked entirely natural there, as will an eagle in the sky or a fish in the water. “With this, and you, I could reach far into human lands, and kill their leaders.”

“You could do it once,” Ramoda said unexpectedly. “And then Adomar dies, and elves would be under suspicion. You could not do it a second time.”

“When I wish you to speak, I will order it.” The venom in the Darkmage’s voice was none the less potent for the quiet, controlled way in which he spoke. “If he were so careless as to die in the doing, I would know it, and you would follow him into the embrace of death, though your passing would be neither swift nor painless. But even should he die on the first attempt, elves will thereafter be held in suspicion, and oppressed by humans. We will then be ripe to foster resentment, and with our long lives, we will still be holding that grudge when their grandchildren’s grandchildren have passed to dust. Sooner or later, they will slip, and we will own them once more.”

No, Adomar insisted within his own mind. No. We can live in peace. What he’d seen in the camp had convinced him of that. All that was needed was the chance to do so. But he had been enjoined to silence, and so he was silent.

Ugruk heaved at his bonds and spat out the wad of cloth that had been hastily stuffed in his mouth to stop him from biting. “Trokk you,” he grunted. “Elves don’t deserve that kinda dragonshit to be dumped on ’em. Well, maybe you do, but nobody else.”

“Ah.” The Darkmage turned to him, the cruel smile widening. “The bestial companion speaks. I have no use for you, except as an object lesson. Adomar, draw your dagger and step forth.”

As he had been bidden, Adomar drew the dagger that had been returned to him and moved forward. The feeling of doom that had already latched its tentacles into him doubled in size and power. Do not make me do this, I beg of you.

Unfortunately, he was well aware that no amount of begging would sway a Darkmage, and that they only allowed it at all because it amused them. In this particular case, he didn’t even have that option, because he had not yet been given permission to speak again. But still, he hoped against forlorn hope that the Darkmage had something different in mind.

The Darkmage took in his evident anguish with undisguised relish. “Adomar Brighteye of the Singing Glade, kill that orc for me.”

No! Ugruk was his boon companion, his closest friend. As prisoners, they’d had each other’s backs, and even in the wild, they’d saved each other’s lives. The only person he felt a closer bond to was Ramoda. His very being rebelled against the order he had been given.

And yet, it had been given.

Step by reluctant step, he approached Ugruk. The closer he came, the harder it became to tear his gaze away from Ugruk’s eyes. In the back of his mind, he could feel Ramoda’s support, pushing back against the inexorable will of the Darkmage.

“Ya don’t have ta do this.” Ugruk’s tone wasn’t quite as desperate as Adomar’s thoughts, but it was still rather fraught. “I know you. Yer stronger’n that skinny piece o’ beholder shit.”

Adomar came to a halt, dagger half-raised, still a good stride away from Ugruk. The order from the Darkmage still pushed him onward, but his own determination and Ramoda’s support were just barely tipping the balance; Ugruk’s encouragement was what had allowed him to stop. Blood pounded in his ears, and he swayed on his feet. “No,” he said, his voice echoing from far away in his own ears. “I will not.”

“What?” The Darkmage’s voice came out in a veritable screech, as though none had ever denied him of what he wanted before that day. And, Adomar briefly reflected, none probably had. “No! You will kill the orc!”

Perhaps the hardest thing Adomar had ever done in his life right then was to open his hand. First one finger straightened, then the next, until only his thumb was pinning the dagger to his palm. When he opened that as well, the weapon fell to the cave floor, clattering loudly in the aftermath of the Darkmage’s echoing voice. “I. Will. Not.”

Darting over to Ramoda, the Darkmage pulled an ornate dagger from a sheath at his belt and held it to her neck. “Pick up the dagger and kill the orc, or she dies!”

There was only one thing Adomar could think of to do. As he bent down, he sent all of his strength back down the link with Ramoda, with the thought behind it: he never told you to let him hurt you.

As the Darkmage stared triumphantly at Adomar, and Adomar’s fingers closed stiffly around the dagger, Ramoda reached into her clothing. Her hand came out holding for the dagger Adomar had given her, and she inexpertly stabbed him. The decorated robes provided no protection at all; as her dagger went into his side, he let out a scream of pain and lurched away from her.

“Kill—” he screeched, pointing at Ramoda, but got no further than that, because a tremendous crack echoed through the cavern, reverberating from every rock surface until it was painful to the ears. At the same time, the Darkmage jolted as blood sprayed out of his chest; he stumbled, fell to his knees, then slumped forward onto his face.

Feeling the immense pressure lift from his mind, Adomar straightened up, letting the dagger slip from his fingers again. He knew exactly what had happened—his experience with fire-in-metal weapons was too recent to mistake it for anything else—but what he wanted to know was how?

With very little in the way of surprise, he recognised Major Lystra as she strode forward, activating the human-made light attached to the muzzle of her fire-in-metal weapon. He knew that the little light worked on the principle of what Ugruk called the ’lectric, but beyond that he was ignorant of how it functioned. “Major,” he greeted her. “I’m very pleased to see you. I’m just not sure …”

“… how we managed to show up in the nick of time?” She sounded very pleased with herself, and (he privately had to admit) she so had the right to be. “That’s easy. We were tracking you the whole time.” She came to a halt, directing the light down at the Darkmage. With one boot, she hefted him over to loll onto his back, one arm twisted awkwardly under him. He stared up at her, uncomprehending, blood bubbling on his lips.

“Tracking us?” Adomar could not see how that could be. “We moved at night, and we crossed running water. Ugruk and I were both watching our backtrail.”

“’S right,” grunted Ugruk, as one of the human soldiers began cutting his bonds. “Thanks. Never saw one light, an’ you people can’t see all that good in the dark. How’d ya do it?”

Bending down, Major Lystra picked up Adomar’s parole plaque from where the Darkmage had dropped it. “With these. They make a noise living creatures can’t hear, but I’ve got a machine in my pack that can hear it. We always stayed at least one hill or valley behind you. Oh, and we got rid of that thing in the water. It’s fish food now.”

Adomar stared. “You used us as bait!” He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or impressed.

She handed the plaque back to him. It seemed as solid and unassuming as before. “Not quite. More like a combination bloodhound and distraction. Darkmages are a clear and present danger to both human and elven society, and they’re far better off dead.” She angled the light down to catch the stricken elf’s face, and drew her breath in suddenly. “Son of a harpy. It is you. And it isn’t even my birthday.”

While Adomar was still trying to puzzle out why the date of her birth was relevant, he felt the Darkmage trying to exert his will, but all that came out was a faint gurgle. “He’s trying something!”

“No, he’s not.” Major Lystra slung her longarm, so that the light shone on the ceiling of the cave, and drew her smaller weapon. The report when she put a bullet into the Darkmage’s face was still loud, but not painfully so. “Burn in hell, you fucker. For everything you did to me, and everyone else.”

As some of the human soldiers began attaching small blinking packages to the walls of the cave, the rest escorted Adomar, Ramoda and Ugruk out into the open air. The former thralls of the Darkmage came with them, though they were one and all dazed by the sudden loss of control over their every action. None showed any hostility, which was to their benefit; the human soldiers were extremely alert, and all armed with fire-in-metal weapons.

Adomar drew a deep breath, enjoying the sunlight with his sister on one side and his friend on the other. “Well, that’s done, Major. Do you need us to come back to the camp with you now?” Now that Ramoda was out of peril, it seemed to him to be the safest place to be right then.

She gave him a genuine smile. “You can go wherever you want. The war’s over, as of this morning.”

Adomar blinked and Ugruk’s head came up in surprise. Ramoda, her eyes wide, asked the question. “Uh … it is? How do you even know?”

“Word came in about two hours ago, while we were prepping for the assault.” Major Lystra was clearly enjoying herself. “Our forces got to the outskirts of the capital, yesterday evening, then dug in and waited for reinforcements.”

“Oh, no.” Adomar shook his head. He knew the devastation that fire-in-metal weapons could spread, and that wasn’t even the big ones. The box-like monsters on trundling metal treads with a vast muzzle pointing out in front could destroy entire villages without even trying. “How many died before it fell?”

Major Lystra shook her head. “No-one, actually. This morning just before sunrise, three armoured fighting vehicles busted through the barricades they’d set up, and made a run for the centre of the city. They got as far as that big open plaza in front of the palace, the one with the fountain and the bell, you know it?”

“That’s the Plaza of the Four Great Gods.” Ramoda shook her head in disbelief. “They got that far unopposed? That’s insane.”

“Well, not unopposed,” Major Lystra admitted. “But they were buttoned up, so the arrows just bounced off them. Plus, they were doing fifty, sixty klicks per hour through the streets. Tore up a few cobblestones, but nobody could keep up with them.” She gave them a shrug, as if to say, not my cobblestones, not my problem. “When they got to the plaza, they did a lap around the fountain, then one of them shot a bright red starshell up over the palace. It was still pretty dark, and that flare made the whole palace, and the plaza too, look like it was covered in blood. That got everyone’s attention.”

Ugruk chuckled heartily and slapped his thigh. “I’ll surely bet there was piss runnin’ down the gutters after that.”

Major Lystra nodded. “All the Elder Races had capitulated by the time the sun was properly up. Now they’re just working on the exact terms of surrender, because there’s no question of fighting on. The war is done.”

Adomar felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was fleeting. The world was shifting beneath his feet, and while the war was over, the task ahead was no less daunting. This Darkmage was dead, but the lingering shadows of his influence—and of all the forces like him—remained. In many ways, the end of the war was merely the beginning of a different kind of battle.

*****

By the time Adomar awoke—he and Ugruk had both been dead on their feet, and had fallen asleep where they lay down—the sun was down and the campsite was bustling around them. Lying there, Adomar felt himself begin to relax for the first time in what felt like years. He could almost hear the echoes of a life he had almost forgotten, one not filled with battle or fear, but with laughter, quiet mornings in the woods, and the comfort of familiar faces.

Climbing out of his bedroll, he sat down between Ramoda and Ugruk at the campfire as food was shared around between with the human soldiers and the freed thralls of the Darkmage. There was more than he’d expected, but humans were good at logistics like that. They didn’t need to speak much; the warmth of their shared bond spoke louder than any words could.

As the fire crackled and the stars began to emerge above, Major Lystra joined them, sitting down on a log opposite Adomar. "You ever consider what you'll do after all this?" she asked, her voice thoughtful.

Adomar hesitated, glancing from Ugruk to Ramoda, who were digging into their small containers of rich-smelling stew. "I thought I knew," he said after a moment. "But now... I’m not so sure. I thought it was enough to make sure my sister was safe, to see the world at peace, to rebuild what was lost."

"You sure that’s still what you want?" Major Lystra asked, studying him carefully.

Adomar met her gaze. "I am. But I’ve learned that peace is never just handed to you. Sometimes, you have to fight for it, even when you don’t want to."

“That’s true,” she admitted. “The camp will be closing, just as soon as I can get all your friends out-processed and on the way home, but that won’t be the end of it.”

Adomar tilted his head. “Somehow, I get the impression that you already know what you’ll be doing next.” He wasn’t quite sure what made him say that, but the glance she gave him told him he was correct.

“Sharp as ever, Brighteye.” She paused, evidently considering whether or not to give him more information, then shrugged. “Darkmages are always going to be a problem, as long as they exist. So, I’ve been assigned to locating and dealing with them. There only needs to be one to cause havoc, after all.”

Ugruk nudged Adomar with his elbow, apparently by accident. Adomar didn’t have to ask what he was thinking; they’d spent enough time together by this point. In any case, he wasn’t even sure there were any Queen’s Archers to go back to. He turned to Major Lystra. “Would you be needing any help in that?”

For the first time, he’d managed to surprise her, if her raised eyebrow was any indication. “Are you sure about that, Brighteye? It’ll be tough work, and more than likely dangerous, especially for one of your kind.”

“Bein’ at war against humans is a whole sight tougher an’ more dangerous.” Ugruk put his arm over Adomar’s shoulders. “If th’ pipsqueak here c’n sign up for somethin’ like that, then so c’n I.”

“And me too,” Ramoda added, sliding her arm around Adomar’s waist from the other side. “Having that bastard slithering through my thoughts like that every day … I don’t want anyone else to go through that sort of thing. Not ever again.”

Major Lystra ran her thumbnail over her lips as she eyed the trio carefully. “Well, you did track down the last one, and you were able to stand up to him, at least a little …”

“So, is that a yes, Major?” Adomar tried to keep his tone casual. He didn’t want to sound too eager, after all.

She let him hang on the hook of that for a few heartbeats before nodding. “That’s a yes, Brighteye. All three of you, if you’re willing.”

Adomar turned to look down at Ramoda. “Are you sure?”

She leaned into him as she spoke, her voice low but firm. “It’s what needs to be done. If we can stop even one more like him from rising… then I’m in.”

In truth, Adomar had hoped for something quieter … something simpler … after all that had happened. But he knew, deep in his bones, that they couldn’t walk away now, not when there was still so much broken in the world. His eyes returned to the Major. “We’ll do what we can,” he said softly, not as a promise, but as a quiet understanding between them.

Major Lystra gave a satisfied nod. “That’s the spirit. I’m not just going after Darkmages, you know. The dwarves and gnomes and hobs all have people who need to be tracked down and killed. You three will have a hand in it, no doubt about it. But for the next month or so—” She gestured toward the starlit sky above. “Relax. Get in touch with your families. Remind yourselves what we’re doing this for.” She rose from her seat and dusted off her pants. “I’ll be in touch.”

As she strode away, Adomar’s eyes lingered on the flames, but his heart was elsewhere in the quiet certainty that, together, they could face whatever came next. He didn’t know exactly what the future would bring.

But for the first time in a long time, he felt that they might just have a chance to see it.

[A/N: This is the end of The Adventures of Adomar and Ugruk*. I hope you've enjoyed the story.]*

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This story also features on my Patreon page, along with most of my Reddit work.

Content Warning: body horror, graphic violence, self-harm.

First

Chapter 7

"Command, the locals are going feral, please advise," the captain of the seventh infantry company called out to his dreadnaught, his radio crackling with static. Thick smoke lingered in the air, his men had just gunned down another wave of rabid attackers. The captain and some of his veterans had fought against insurrectionists before, but this time their situation was different; for now, they were the hunted, it seemed. These rebels attacked unarmed, wanting to tear apart the humans with their bare hands. The black-clad warriors with the crimson birds on their chests held on in this wave of insanity, desperately trying to make sense of the events. Some of the crazed attackers were still crawling around, even with multiple internal organs on the outside. They had a singular goal, to murder the Lightnings inside the hastily erected fortification. To make things worse, sometimes one of the already-downed madmen rose again, despite having been felled by multiple fatal wounds.

"Cap, face the facts, these are zombies!" A Lightning tried to convince his commanding officer, but he just scoffed.

"There are no such things as zombies! It’s just some chemical, a combat drug, or the like, making them rabid!" he yelled. "That one still moves around, get him inside, we’ll interrogate the bastard," he pointed at a purple alien nearby, whose legs were blown off below the knees. He still crawled towards the warriors. Two unenthusiastic privates grabbed the man by the stumps, and they dragged him inside.

"Now listen here, buddy. You will speak and we won’t let you bleed out, how about that?" the captain asked. The vein on his forehead pulsed vibrantly, as he tried to put on a reassuring face for the guest. The alien just snarled, the captain’s auto translator told him that clearly. Both in audio, as well as in writing after he prompted the AI to give a more detailed answer. And seeing SNARL and GROWL written out on his datapad certainly didn’t put the irritated officer in a better mood. One of his sergeants tried to reason with the man.

"Cap, we should bolt, this is above our paygrade."

"I won’t run away from a bunch of mad bastards! I’ve seen worse!" the captain barked, unaware of just how sorely mistaken he was. "Run if you want Nichols, you bloody coward!"

The sergeant named Nichols wanted to make a retort, but the alien took his chance. He surged forward using his arms, and he bit down hard on the sergeant’s leg. The rest of the unit pumped the alien full of lead; on instinct, and for good measure. Nichols inspected his wound. The bite went deep and blood flowed amply, though the white substance from his torn uniform already rushed forward to clog up the injury.

"Oh crap, is he infected now?" one of the privates asked.

"He is not infected," a pale voice assured them.

The Lightnings turned as one, guns trained on the stranger.

"A bloody Halcyon! I didn’t know what else was missing from this clusterfuck! I am Captain Tagish, and I need you to sod off from my bunker!" he spat, leering at the dark-clad man, who wore the image of a small white bird on his chest.

"I know who you are. You need to leave. All of you," the half-handed Halcyon walked up to the window, not an ounce of hurry in his stride. He checked on the killing fields. "If there is a next time, you should burn the bodies; they get up fast."

"Are… are they zombies?" the sergeant stuttered, this time true terror burned within his warm brown eyes.

"You are not infected. And these are not zombies," the Captain said, searching for something on the distant horizon.

"Nichols, I swear one more word about zombies, and I’ll…"

"Do not use names. Do not talk more than necessary." Another Halcyon warned, he entered the building and strolled to the middle of the room without anyone noticing. Tagish cussed out the sentries, the Halcyons, the rebels, and the entire cursed situation.

"It does not know we are here yet," the Captain said. "You need to leave Mutton, while you still can. You can take our shuttle."

"That used to be my nickname, where did you hear it?" Tagish demanded, his azure eyes glinting with a hint of threat. He won’t be intimidated by cheap tricks.

"You served under my command for five years. Half your company did, " the Captain answered sincerely. Tagish looked at him stunned for a second, then he burst into a rather forced laughter.

"Did you, now? Well, lads, anyone recognize this man? Cause I sure as hell don’t!" he scowled.

There were twenty warriors in the makeshift fort, around one-fifth of the company, and none of them recognized him. Twelve served under his command for years while he still carried the crimson bird, the phoenix, on his chest. Three of those used to be good friends of his.

"Nice try, Halcyon, too bad no one bit. Now sod off and take your buddy with you."

A bolt of bright green plasma suddenly fell towards the planet from the heavens. Its destructive journey was stopped by an invisible force field in the upper atmosphere, dissipating the violent energies. The lightshow cast a mint-colored glow over most of the hemisphere. The warriors rushed to the windows and gawked.

"Who the hell ordered orbital bombardment while we are still on the ground?" one of the Lightnings demanded.

"It has begun, you need to hide," the Captain said. "Cover your eyes, and do not look, no matter what you hear. From the outside, or deep within your head. Mutton, Bones, Swimmer, I know you do not remember me. But it is imperative that you listen to me."

"Cap, this is getting scary, how does he know our names?" the small warrior named Bones asked.

Before anyone could answer him, the corpses outside raised their heads as one, gazing at the bunker. The next moment they got back on their feet, those who still had them anyway, and charged with borrowed vigor. The heavy flamethrowers of the Halcyons stationed outside made short work of them. The true battle for the planet had begun. The Captain left his former comrades with a final warning.

"Do not look."

The two Halcyons left the fort to join the rest of their comrades and pressed forward. Tagish ordered his men to follow. Most did so, albeit reluctantly. They handled the next few swarms of crazed locals on the fields, but the Phoenixes were not prepared for the twisted creatures that poured out of the forest next. Their unnatural movement was the first thing they noticed, these creatures did not move on legs, they flowed like a liquid, rushing like purple waves. Then the flames cast by the Halcyons illuminated their hateful forms, and it sapped the fighting spirit of the Phoenixes. Veterans of dozens of brutal battles, warriors who lived through situations that would have broken lesser men, all were stopped in their tracks. Some dropped their weapons like their jaws, others held onto them as if they were the teddy bears of their childhoods. None followed the Halcyons into the forest that waved so bizarrely.

Soon the earth began to shake violently, as if the tectonic plates were trying to make up for centuries of arrears. A new mountain emerged, a purple and pitch-black mass rising from the ground, drawing the warriors' attention. It wasn’t the ghastly form that broke them, but the foul presence behind. Some gouged out their eyes screaming as they tried to escape the truth, others shot themselves. The rest just lay down on the soft grass, robbed of will and sanity. Captain Tagish sat on the ground, laughing and weeping at the same time, unable to look away from the distant horror.

The planetwide assault of the Halcyons was nearing its goal. Many Anchors were severed and another bolt of burning hot green plasma was sent towards the planet. The force field gave in, the fire fell through the upper atmosphere racing ever lower, and struck the mountain without mercy, burning through thousands of tons of flesh by the second. The raging heat unleashed whirlwinds of fire, and the air was shaking as far as hundreds of miles removed. Soon another bolt followed its pal, then another, until the mountain was reduced to cinder, the plasma turning everything to ash in a ninety-mile radius.

The Halcyons examined their red comrades on their return.

"Shall we take them back to the ship?" one of them asked.

"No, euthanize them, there is nothing we can do," the Captain answered nonchalantly.

Back at the makeshift fort, a single Phoenix cowered in a hidden corner. His face was buried in his palms, and his nails were carving deep marks on his forehead. He was muttering something too.

"I did not know you started praying, Bones. Keep it up, focus on the words, do not let anything else in."

"Halcyon? Is it you? He said you want to trick me, that you are the Enemy! Where are the others?" His voice was a broken whisper.

"Dead. Believe me, it is better than the alternative."

The Lightning opened his eyes, looking at the Captain between his dirty fingers. He couldn’t fully take out his face in the dimly lit room.

"Who are you?"

"You used to know me as Wolf. I was the captain of your company before Tagish. Captain Vukmir."

"I know that name," the blue-eyed Phoenix stared into the stranger's face, but his eyes refused to focus, to clear up the blur. He couldn’t describe the Halcyon’s features even if his life depended on it. "Are you going to kill me?"

"No, Bonesy, you were smart. We are getting you out of here. Keep your eyes closed and keep praying. Focus on the words, do not let anything else in. You can never be sure with the Enemy."

Chapter 8

Rachel and Alena lay in the grass in Peter’s yard and studied the massive book before them. The early afternoon sun warmed their hair and the bees and flies occasionally searched them for the flowers they thought the girls were hiding. The smell of the fruits still lingered around them, creating a sickly sweet aura, and the cheated insects had to retreat without their prize.

"How about that one?" Alena asked, pointing at a little blue and white bird.

"No, the beak is different, and it should be yellow, not white," Rachel frowned, "maybe a little white around the neck," she answered while rubbing her neck.

"What if it’s not a real bird? Just something you dreamed up?"

Rachel blew her hair out of her eyes and turned the page. The next one was a bright green avian, a type of parakeet, and she sighed before slamming the book shut.

"I guess you are right. I really hoped to find that bird. Let’s grab lunch."

Before they could get up Peter walked up in front of them. The night found him in the main hall and he was just returning on unsure legs.

"Hey girls, everything peachy?" he greeted them, his mind going absently for the joke. Peter stopped and took a second glance at the youngsters. He rubbed his eyes before looking again. "I think I’ll drink a glass of water and check back. Remind me later, if I actually saw you two."

"Funny," Rachel snorted and shook her head. "Tell me please, what did the elders say about the booze?"

"That we should always show restraint, only in obedience to the Master must we fully commit ourselves," Peter sighed. "I’m making something cold and lemonlike. You two want something?"

Alena thought for a moment.

"Are you familiar with a blue and yellow bird, Uncle Peter?"

"A blue and a what?" He walked up to them. "Is it homework? I am not obligated to do homework anymore; did you know that?"

"Yes, it’s homework," Alena fibbed, and she nodded along far too eagerly. Rachel cringed and closed her doe-brown eyes for a second; her new friend was a horrible liar. Not to mention only the children had a few morning classes during the summer.

"Blue and yellow, anything more?" Peter took the heavy book and opened it.

"It has white patches on its neck and a long black beak," Rachel explained.

"Big or small?"

"I mean, smallish," Rachel furrowed her brows, "definitely not big".

Peter flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for. He showed the open book to the girls.

"Is he your guy?" he asked.

Rachel’s face lit up.

"Yes, exactly!" She eagerly nabbed the book from her cousin’s hands.

"The common kingfisher. Also known as the mythical halcyon, and from halcyon days, a time of serenity and happiness. And days of peace. Remembrance. In the myths…"

"Thank you Cuz, we’ve got this now," Rachel snapped short the commentary and Peter left to nurture his hangover.

The girls studied the picture and read the description. It detailed the appearance, size, and habits of the kingfisher, but Rachel could not find anything useful. Not something that would explain her dreams anyhow.

"So you are saying it attacks the Master?" Alena asked as she ran a finger through the photo of the harmless-looking little bird.

"Yes. They fight, and it’s terrifying… it’s as if they were ready to destroy the entire world, just to deny the other. Are you sure you didn’t see the bird? Nor anyone else?" Rachel held out hope.

"No, I don’t think so, sorry Rae."

"Well, these are just dreams anyway, right?" Rachel smiled at Alena, but the native girl couldn’t return it sincerely, all she could manage was an unsure frown. "I guess I am more sensitive to Iter travel. It’s not like… I mean it’s just religion, right? The elders will decide whether they like me or not," she smiled again, but Alena wasn’t even trying to return it this time.

"The Master is real, Rae. He is here with us."

"Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to mock your faith, sure the Master is all around us. You built a lovely community around him, but…" Rachel tried to excuse herself, but Alena interrupted.

"No, Rae. He is here. Really here."

Rachel didn’t want to offend her new friend, so she just nodded. The sun was warm, the air sweet and there was no need for a fight. She wanted to recommend lunch again, but Alena was the first to speak.

"So what’s it like out there?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"What’s it like in different worlds? Your homeworld, other places? Not just the things, how does it feel like to be in those places? You said you visited more planets." Alena felt a bit guilty for asking these questions, but curiosity got the better of her.

"It’s different," the blonde girl laughed. "Bigger, faster. But also… colder I guess, a lot less caring. It can be really lonely. Why, do you want to see what’s out there?" Rachel chuckled. Alena turned red.

"Maybe. I… I’m curious, I would like to see it, to see different places," Alena stumbled on her words, she gazed at the distant horizon, marveling at the contour of the great gas giant above them. Suddenly the native girl cried out in pain, burying her face in her hands.

"Are you okay Lena? What’s wrong?"

The brunette girl shook her head as blood trickled down her hands.

"Okay, let’s get you to Mr. Tespas." Rachel pulled up her friend and gently guided her towards the village’s doctor. They met Tom on the way and the lad rushed to their aid.

"What happened?" He asked the girls. Alena wanted to explain, but another jolt of pain struck her while even more blood burst out from her nose. He helped guide Lena to the little clinic and rushed ahead to knock on the door when they got closer.

"Come in!" a groggy voice invited.

Tom opened the door and held it while waiting for the girls.

"Are you okay? It looks pretty scary," he aimed his question at Rachel when the pair reached him.

"I’m fine! Thank you!" Lena spat as she stomped inside, slamming the door behind her. Tom smiled like an idiot.

"So I was thinking… The Roberts family will hold a housewarming next weekend, a little celebration, there will be dancing. I was thinking… do you want to come with me?" he blurted out with a hopeful grin. Rachel let out a surprised chuckle as she looked at the lad. His face dropped, and he blurted out a few semi-coherent words, but the girl stopped him, grabbing his hand.

"Yeah, I would love to!" she said.

Tom’s face lit up with a smile, and he uttered a few more incoherent syllables before gathering himself.

"That’s… that’s great! I uh…"

"I’ll check on Lena," Rachel said, "see you soon!"

Mr. Tespas stopped the bleeding with an ancient coagulator, its unique coppery smell lingered in the air. Alena rubbed her nose, testing it for damage. It wasn’t too bad, only a small vein ruptured in her nose, but the doctor scolded the girls.

"No fighting! Talk out your problems, or ask the elders for guidance! I will let you off with a warning this time, but if it happens again, I’ll drag you to the elders. I don’t think your grandmother would be too happy, Alena."

"Oh, we didn’t fight," Rachel tried to explain, but Lena interrupted her.

"We won’t, sorry Mr. Tespas." She pulled Rachel out to the street. "Let’s meet after lunch, behind the old tree at the pond, and please, don’t tell anyone what I said before. About, you know," she said and left without waiting for the answer. Rachel walked home to grab lunch. Peter sat in his rocking chair, sipping lemonade from a jug and balancing an icepack on his head.

"Sup," he said when his cousin entered. "Uh, Mr. Tespas called, saying you fought with Lena. Did you punch her in the nose?"

"You have communicators?" This surprised Rachel, she hadn’t seen the locals using one, and her father confiscated hers.

"Phones," Peter explained and lifted a curved cream-colored object from the table. Rachel noticed it before but never thought much of it, believing it was an ugly piece of decoration.

"But where is the interface? Where do you see the other person? How do you connect to the Web?" she wondered.

"You don’t, it’s audio only. Like an earpiece," the booming baritone explained.

"But why is it so big then? It’s weird. Anyway, I’ll grab lunch and get back out, Lena wants to see me."

"Okay, have fun… wait, wait, wait! You just fought, what, she wants round two?" Peter exclaimed, as he tossed the pack of ice on the table and strained his mind, trying to understand what was going on.

"We didn’t fight," Rachel was stuffing her mouth with leftover stew. "Her nose was fine one second, then turned into a fountain of blood the next."

"Because you punched her?" Peter squinted hard.

"No, Cuz, we were in fact talking about… some other things."

"What other… you know what doesn’t matter. Do you swear you didn’t fight?"

"I swear, I actually like her. She was… she felt weird when I came here, but we talked things out yesterday."

"And when was that?" Peter was still suspicious.

"After your third wine, I think it was strawberry. After the peach game."

"Right, Maurete sent one of the Roberts kids to check on you. Okay, have fun," he leaned back and plopped the icepack on his face.

Rachel took a few cookies with her when she left. She didn’t have to hurry, Lena’s home was farther away from the pond, so she took her time, strolling on comfortably, basking in the afternoon sun. She sat down by the pond, took off her shoes, and watered her legs while waiting. Alena came shortly, the girl jogged along and brought her Golden Retriever. The dog ran up to Rachel to say hello. She was a bit too eager in her introduction and almost pushed Rachel into the lake. Daisy, the friendly Retriever needed a lot of petting before the girls could get to the point of their meeting.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Rachel asked as she tried to wrangle a stick out of Daisy’s mouth. Lena just shook her head and pulled a stack of papers from her backpack. They were filled with doodles, and she showed the first one to her friend. It depicted a blonde and a brunette girl, they were standing near a pond. Lena pointed at the picture, then at Rachel, and finally at herself.

"Yes, I’m also happy to meet you," Rachel said, stifling a laugh. "No offense, but you are a much better singer. Maybe use your voice." Lena shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "Is your throat hurt too?" Rachel asked with rising worry, but Lena shook her head again. She pulled out another picture, it depicted the same figures, but they were inside a tube now, the tube itself was swimming in a blue sea. "A submarine?" Rachel guessed, but Lena again shook her head. She pointed at the tube, then up to the sky. "A spaceship!" Rachel laughed now, and she interjected before her friend could pull out another paper.

"Alright, enough with the games, just say what you want to say, no one else is here."

Lena shook her head and pulled out a few more pictures. These usually depicted the same figures, though the brown-haired girl stood alone in some of the sketches. The figures were at different places, one showed them in the middle of tall buildings, and Rachel guessed it showed the skyscrapers of her hometown. Another portrayed them in a desert, at least this is what the outworlder guessed the yellow lines around their drawn counterparts depicted. In yet another, the brunette girl stood in a tube alone, this time the blue sea was dotted with yellow stars. Rachel looked Lena in the eye.

"You want to leave."

Lena’s face turned into a mask of terror, and she shushed her friend while looking around the clearing, checking if anyone sulked around the corner, but nobody else was there.

"Look," Rachel whispered, "I think drawings leave more evidence, but whatever. If you want to leave, you soon can, you will be an adult. And if you want to come with me to visit, I’m sure we can make that happen, we just have to convince your grandma. And if you want to travel around the galaxy later, we will do that too!"

Alena’s face betrayed no emotion, her lips were pursed into a thin line. She leaned into her friend’s ear and whispered.

"You promise?"

"Of course I promise, we will explore the galaxy!" she laughed out loud but stopped when Lena looked around in fear. "Come on, no one else is here!"

"He is here. He always is." The native girl wasn’t joking around, she was sincere. And afraid.

"The Master you mean?"

"Yes."

Rachel wanted to shrug it off but thought better after her friend scanned their surroundings again. It didn’t make sense. The native girl was the first to volunteer her service to the elders when the opportunity arose. She led the choir. She was pious even by the community’s lofty standards.

"Is it he, who doesn’t want you to leave?"

Lena went pale and nodded.

"Okay, it is going to be our little secret." She hugged Lena and whispered. "Worst case scenario, you can hide in my suitcase. I ruined some clothes during the first week anyway, there will be enough room for you. I promise I will get you out of here! I swear! Really."

Alena chuckled and ran to catch Daisy, who chased after a squirrel. Rachel shook her head, the religion of the locals seemed so nice, she didn’t understand what made Lena so frightened. Her grandmother was strict for sure, and being raised by an elder must have been demanding, but the girl’s worries felt excessive. Maybe some time off-world would help her clear her head, just like this exile helped Rachel. She marveled at the crystal clear surface of the pond when something caught her eye. A dark form stalked the treeline, but when she looked up it was already gone. She shuddered but calmed herself fast, careful not to frighten Lena. It must have been her imagination, the blonde girl quickly convinced herself, the dreams and all the talk about the Master making her see things. Or was sly old Maurete indeed spying on them?

Chapter 9

They missed the signs somehow. They only noticed the change when the nearest stars dimmed. The precursors wanted to quarantine the area. The Halcyons choose otherwise. They made landfall on the remote planet, a world that was off the maps for millennia, hidden in plain sight. Its earliest inhabitants decided to leave behind technology and all the hustle of modern life, dreaming of something simpler, something better. A few among them followed a strange new belief that lined up rather well with the future they envisioned, so the people soon adopted it. The little colony grew fast, hundreds, thousands, and at its height, hundreds of millions of souls lived their parochial lives on that remote green and blue rock. A traveler from the wider galaxy would have found them strange, for even though their numbers were massive they did not build cities, they lived in small villages often just a few miles from each other. They passed the event horizon without even noticing it, and their Master claimed them, their souls, their world, their everything, and they gave it all away willingly, with tears of joy in their eyes.

The Halcyons landed on the shore of a great sea and scouted the landscape. They prowled along the coast at first, for that thin sandy line between sea and land was the safest place in this utterly alien world dotted with black pyramids and desecrated forests. The air was still and no waves struck the stubborn shores, and on the glassy surface of the sea, a reflection of a big white moon gazed at them. A moon that did not hang above in the cloudless night sky. Nor did the stars offer them any guidance, for the new ruler of that world shunned their light. But the Halcyons did not dither, though they knew it was a one-way trip. The engines of their landing crafts died the moment they entered the atmosphere. They knew it would happen.

They pressed on deep into the forest that was no longer made of trees, they sought the site of the very first settlement. The stench of death was strong enough to make a hardened veteran vomit, yet the dark warriors did not flinch. They walked in complete silence, careful not to bring attention to themselves. But the dark intelligence knew something was amiss, though the Halcyons were hidden from its gaze. The “trees” reached around, trying to catch the intruders, spikes of bones were launched from the boughs and sometimes even the putrid earth opened up, trying to swallow the warriors. It had little effect, minor injuries like losing a limb were not enough to hinder the Halcyons.

They reached a clearing. The pond in the middle no longer held water, it was instead filled with yellow bile. On the shore, a small group stood in a circle, they were vaguely humanoid in appearance. Every now and then one of the figures would walk into the lake and dissolve entirely in the acidic waves. Moments later it would re-emerge on the other side, rebuilt from scratch. A mass of twisting matter at first, the ball of blob slowly took on a more stable shape, forming arms and legs and head before the reconstructed creature re-joined the circle. The purpose of this phenomenon was a mystery for the Halcyons, but they did not care enough to uncover it. The leading warrior snapped his fingers, the sound rolled like a crack of thunder in the eerie silence. The shifting creatures turned towards the intruders. Their faces were empty skin, save for their mouths, but on their naked bodies, twelve eyes were arranged in a full circle. They could have had twenty, the Halcyons would still remain hidden from them. The dark warriors pulled out their weapons and sang their songs of fire and steel. The forest of flesh came to life, the Shadow was made aware of their presence and it was hell-bent on destroying the interlopers. The Halcyons made a spectacle of fiery fury, and soon the hatred of their Enemy was fully focused on them. They retreated, the ground trembled behind them as mounds of meat, muscle, tendon, and bone twisted and crawled in pursuit.

Their comrades hiding nearby used the opportunity. The second company plunged deeper into the now much thinner forest until they found their target. It was encased in a throne of flesh and bone, tied to the dark intellect in body, mind, and soul. He was one of the earliest colonists, the first cult leader of the community preserved through millennia. The Halcyons dispatched the remaining guards and they took apart the horrid throne with chainsaws. Their target fell into their laps like a ripe fruit. The man crawled around in pain.

"What is this? Who are you?" he searched the empty clearing trembling in his whole body. "Master, help me!"

"Your Master cannot save you. Not from us." A calm, cold, disembodied voice explained. The dark warriors abstained from their usual effectiveness on this occasion. They took their time with the leader. His Master did not save him.

His death created an opening, a window of opportunity to strike, and the ships above opened fire. The nuclear rockets passed through the atmosphere unhindered, they carved vast, bright scars on the sky as they fell towards the ground. Fire cleansed the earth and the Halcyons on the ground waited for their end without fear or regret.

On the bridge of one of the black ships in orbit, the Captain walked up to the General. A tube was attached to his left shoulder, covering it entirely, keeping the stump in a soup of hormones and nutrients. His arm would grow back fast.

"The Crone requires our presence," he reported.

"Indeed," the General answered. "The peril must be greater still if the Crone herself wishes to see us. Let us indulge her," he waved at the helm and the black ships took off into the Iter. The formerly dark planet was a ball of fire now, radiating heat and light into space. The stars shined bright again in the sector.

Content Warning: body horror, graphic violence, self-harm. This is my longest work so far, so feedback is very much appreciated! Set decades before the events of Bring Them Home

Next

Chapter 1

The Halcyons scoured the burning ruins. Charred bodies littered the ground, men, women, and children alike. They spared no one, not a single soul in the small town. They had little choice in the matter. Not far from the ruins, an unholy amalgamation of flesh roiled and raged, as the dark-clad warriors rained lead and flame on its form. It was the size of a small castle, and it lashed out in rage, it rained spikes of bone and burning bile all over the field, but the Halcyons were undeterred. Their grim duty shall be done. As it always had been, as it always will be.

The Captain dragged the leader of the community into the open and forced him to look at the object of his worship. The man screamed as his mind was shattered by the revelation. The monstrosity had a thousand eyes and a thousand mouths, for it was no single child of Mother Nature, but an obscene fusion of many. Humans, aliens, even animals, their flesh melted and locked together in eternal bliss and endless agony. And there was something more, something worse, a vast and dark presence that animated the rotting yet living flesh.

The Captain put a bullet through the man’s skull and burned his body. The final Anchor tethering the vile intelligence to the world had been severed. The creature was only physical now, and the Halcyons finished the job. Not far from the battle, a nuclear reactor was sabotaged, and it was detonated soon after the dark-clad warriors left the scene. The cold soldiers of the Secret War knew how to cover their tracks.

Chapter 2

Rachel Wilkins was in trouble again. The carefree teenager was the most popular girl in her high school and her family was part of the social elite of her homeworld, so she very rarely heard the phrase "no". Her escapades started small, but the older she grew, the bolder she became. Her parents tolerated her antics for long. They were loving parents but also very busy people, so they let Rachel get away with pretty much anything, but murder.

However, a few months before her eighteenth birthday she crossed a line. The youngster got drunk with her friends, stole a shuttle on a dare, and crashed it into a family home. Thankfully the owners were away and Rachel herself only suffered a few bruises, but her folks knew they had to intervene.

The cousin of Steven Wilkins, Peter, lived a few star systems away. He was part of a small rural community that shunned modern technology. This little moon was chosen to be the place of Rachel’s exile. She did not take kindly to this. She had a meltdown. "No one was injured!" she screamed. But to no avail, this time not even her parents would look the other way.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and she fell asleep on the way. In her dream, she saw herself pass by a gas giant and arrive at the little moon. She saw a village and the diligent people who dwelled there. The laughter of the children, the barking of faithful dogs, the reeds dancing in the warm glow of the sun.

And she saw a nameless horror, whose oily tendrils tainted all the living beings and it reached towards the stars in a deep and gnawing hunger.

"Rachel. Rachel! RACHEL!" her father had to yell. She woke from her slumber, caked in cold sweat.

"Dad, please, I don’t want to go there!" It wasn’t a tantrum this time. She was terrified. But her father did not recognize the difference.

"We are already here. And listen to me young lady, and listen well. Cousin Peter was kind enough to accept you into his home, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint. Not from you, and especially not about you. We allowed things to get out of control, but it ends today. Time away from your so-called friends and social media and all that crap will be good for you. And some hard work will help you understand how easy you have had so far!" he spat, his brown eyes glinting with fury but he already softened up a bit.

"Look, honey, I know we often had our priorities wrong. Your mom and I worked hard for our family, and we thought that by providing you with all you want… we thought it was enough. We forgot that what you needed the most was our time and attention," he bit down on his lower lip and ran his right hand over his short brown hair.

"We can’t take it back, but we can change going forward. I already gave my notice and your mom will also look for a new job closer to home. You will repeat your final year of high school, but we will be there for you this time. We need a few months to set up everything, but after that, we will turn a new page."

Steven caressed his daughter’s face, pushing her blonde locks to the side.

"Besides, it will be super fun if you go into it with an open mind! I spent a summer at your great-grandfather’s place, it was a lot like this one, and it was the best summer of my teenage years!"

Rachel barely heard her father’s voice. The nightmare of that dark horror still filled her mind. Strange dreams were perfectly normal during interstellar travel, but this… this felt all too real.

"Daddy..."

"Enough, sweetie. It is done." He hugged her and went to greet his cousin.

The round face of Cousin Peter lit up as he noticed Rachel. He had rusty red hair and a matching beard and always wore a smile that promised mischief.

Chapter 3

The Captain charged with purpose. His nose was filled with the smell of the rotting ground and dying trees that no longer dreamed of a new spring. He slit a throat and his comrade burned the body. He prowled ahead and chanced upon a small child. Even though the village was caked in blood and gore and substances too foul to describe, the kid and his clothes were spotless. He wept inconsolably, and it seemed as if he looked at the man.

"Please, mister."

He begged, pleaded to the warrior. The Halcyon moved closer to the kid, but the kid’s eyes did not follow the movement. His blond locks were all over the place, and his cheeks were bright red from crying, yet no tears streaked his face.

"Please mister, I just want my mommy!"

He knelt beside the child. He did not see the large kitchen knife behind the toddler’s back.

"I would love to help you, buddy. But there is a little problem." His voice was dull and monotone, a colorless tone of factuality.

"Wha… What?" the child sobbed.

"Your mouth is on the wrong side of your head," he explained gently but without warmth. "It is supposed to go on your face, not the back of your head."

The "child" let out an unholy shriek and tried to stab the Halcyon. The Captain was faster, and his blade sliced the little head in half. His comrade burned the body.

Chapter 4

The village threw a small party to celebrate Rachel’s arrival. While the main hall was being filled with food and drinks and a few stragglers arriving late, Peter explained some things about the people living there. Their customs, and a few tidbits about their strange beliefs. They wore simple, handmade clothes and the girl felt itchy just looking at them. Good thing she brought her own stuff, she thought. The locals introduced themselves and told her what they did in the community. To Rachel’s surprise, they were mostly farmers, artisans, and the like, not a programmer or a business owner among them. This was when she truly understood just how far away she came from civilization as she knew it.

The faces and names blurred together in Rachel’s head. The community wasn’t too large, but she hadn’t met this many new faces since her freshman year. The elders of the village were wizened and looked older than their age, and frankly, they frightened the girl with their stern looks. The adults were a lot more amiable, they were happy to meet Peter’s distant relative. The teens her age, their reactions were mixed. A girl with light brown hair looked at her with derision, while a dark-haired boy was much friendlier, often forgetting his gaze upon Rachel. There were a lot of kids too, their games and laughter filled the spacious common room.

Before dinner, the elders led the community in prayer, and the brunette girl sang afterwards. She had a beautiful voice, Rachel had to admit, and she also noticed how one of the elders was puffing her chest during the performance. The white-haired woman must have been her grandma, the new girl reasoned. The food was hearty and full of fat, but Rachel only picked out a few thin pieces of meat, worried the heavy meal would upset her stomach. She almost made a few comments, but remembering her father’s warning she decided to swallow those instead. The night came, but before the village retired to sleep, a long-bearded elder rose from his chair and said a few words.

"May the Master accept this new soul into himself, and may he protect us from the Unseen Enemy! The Master provides!"

The community repeated his words, while Rachel leaned close to Peter.

"Hey, we already have antibiotics, you don’t have to pray for that."

Peter smiled but shushed the girl, and the little celebration concluded. Rachel followed Peter to his home, a small house at the edge of the settlement, and he led her to her new room. It was much smaller than the one she had at home and lacked most amenities. Other than the bed, it had only a small wardrobe and a nightstand with a few books, not much else, not even a mirror. The ugly cream carpet did not make it any more welcoming either. At least her stuff was already in the room, but she had no energy to unpack, so she just jumped face-first into the bed.

Sleep came for her quickly in the calm darkness, and she had a strange dream once again. She stood near Peter’s house in the woods and noticed a familiar stranger. This time she did not see a monster, but a person, who stood only thirty yards away, but the pale moonlight refused illuminate his features. The form was dark, he looked more like a living shadow, rather than a mortal man. He invited Rachel to his side, offering her his hand to hold. Warmth radiated from the man, but the girl could sense something more. Impatience. She stared at the shape, not moving closer, but not fleeing either, when suddenly a small blue and yellow silhouette struck down from the sky, attacking the figure. The man of shadows lashed out violently, but the little bird slipped away. And when the man left an opening, the bird plunged into his flesh with its long black beak, tearing out chunks of oily darkness, and spitting it on the floor before going in for the next attack. Rachel stared at them and somehow knew neither side would give in. Their strange dance hastened, it turned ever more violent, and the air around them vibrated as if their fight shook the roots of the whole world.

"Rachel. Rachel! RACHEL! Come on, rise and shine!" Peter was shaking her awake.

Rachel sprung up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins and she looked at the man.

"Wha… what?" She looked out the window. It was still dark, though the promise of daybreak already hung in the air. "What time is it?"

"It’s already past 5:30. I thought I would let you sleep in since it’s your first day 'n all," the cheeky bastard grinned at her.

Rachel fell back on the pillow. "There is no such as 5:30 in the morning, you are lying to me."

"No such thing? Curious, I could have sworn you had once demolished a house this early in the morning! I wanted to ask for your help, we want to take down and rebuild the Roberts’ house, and they said it will take the whole month. Maybe you can show us amateurs how it’s done, at least demolishing part!"

Rachel frowned and Peter stuck out his tongue at her.

"Come on," he said, "the earlier you get up, the sooner you’ll get used to it!"

Peter left the room and Rachel sighed as she sat up. For a minute she considered going back to sleep, but she remembered her father’s words about complaints, so she crawled out of bed with a yawn. She noticed a hanger and an ugly brown dress on it, the same as the other girls wore in the village. Fat chance she would wear one of those, she thought to herself. Even looking at the damned thing made her itchy. So instead she opened her case and took out a light green dress, something simple but elegant to put on.

Peter was eating porridge in the kitchen, and he made a bowl for Rachel too. She tried the food but wasn’t hungry this early morning, so she just rubbed her eyes and yawned again. Peter on the other hand, he was stuffing himself like it was the best food on the whole planet. Maybe it was.

"I don’t think you want to wear that," Peter said, "you need something more practical."

"There is no way I’m getting into that sack. It’s made for potatoes."

Peter grinned under his nose and relented.

"Alright, alright, you can decide."

He put his bowl into the sink and went to the cellar door. He pulled out a big rusty key and turned it in the lock.

"You know, I won’t steal your stuff," Rachel said, taking a little offense. "You don’t have to lock it."

Peter turned around, his face missing the usual jovial color. He leaned against the door and looked at the girl with somber seriousness.

"The Master’s room is down in the cellar, like in every house. Promise me, you won’t try to get in there."

"Oh, wow, I didn’t know he lived here! From what you said, I expected him to have a somewhat more incorporeal place. Can I have a roomie?" Rachel grinned.

"I mean it. You can’t go in there before you are ready. Not before we know for sure he accepted you."

Peter was sincere, there was no joke waiting to burst out with a laugh, and Rachel’s smile faded. She cleared her throat, thinking back to the night before.

"I thought you said the Master welcomes everyone."

"He does. But you are not ready yet. Children aren’t allowed in either. Promise me."

"Okay, okay, I promise. I’m a big girl, you can tell me to stay out of the cellar, no need to make stuff up. And don’t worry, I won’t babble to the kids, let them believe the Master watches over them. From the cellar." The blonde girl joked, but realized deep down that the locals were very serious about their faith.

Peter winked and went down to the cellar. His cousin tried to peek a little as he entered the door, but the stocky man was careful to block the view. His heavy steps made the old staircase creak in protest with every move. Then another door opened, and the house fell silent for a while. Peter soon returned. His boots were as audible upwards as they were downwards. He was smiling again.

"Alright, let’s get going," he said, clapping his hands. "You sure you don’t want to change your clothes?"

Rachel quickly realized her cousin wasn’t just being nitpicky about dressing up when she stood knee-deep in straw. She had never milked a cow before, and touching the udder was a new experience, to put it mildly. The girls she worked with laughed at the faces she made, and the animal smelled so bad she almost threw up. Renila, the adult who oversaw the work sent her out soon, having had enough of the ruckus. Rachel sat down by the barn with a sigh, not believing what she had to endure.

She was soon sent to the workshop, where she had to clean up the shavings and splinters after the workers. It was still tiring work and she had to admit to herself, that she found it humiliating, but at least the smell was far more tolerable. Still, she was itching all over from the dirt and sweat, was getting ravenously hungry, and Peter’s occasional jokes did not help things one bit. She was elated when the adults finally called it a day.

They returned to Peter’s residence, and Rachel dashed to the bathroom. To her relief it was fairly modern, though not as much hers back home, but it wasn’t just a tub and rainwater. She set the faucet fully on the red option, opened it, and let the water rush over her. It took a moment until the dawning realization struck; there was no warm water! She cursed as she jumped out of the bathtub and resorted to cleaning herself with her hands. Peter later explained how to turn on the boiler.

At dinner, she was finally allowed to sit with her peers, all of whom were mid-to-late teens. Rachel hoped for a friendly reception, but the brunette girl named Alena had different ideas.

"Don’t get used to this place Outsider, you won’t last a week!"

Some laughed at this, but the dark-haired lad interjected.

"Come now Lena, the Master welcomes all who seek." He invited Rachel to sit by him. "I’m Tom," he introduced himself with a smile.

"Rachel," she replied.

"We know, the last night was all about you, Outsider." It was clear that Alena would not warm up to Rachel anytime soon, and judging by the giggles all around she had to take Alena down a peg before the rest accepted her. Rachel smiled to herself as the elders silenced the room and ordered the children to sit. It was something she could handle with ease.

Chapter 5

The Halcyons stood in the pouring rain, stone-faced and empty-eyed. They studied the creatures in front of them. The aliens were once part of an amphibian species, but now they were nothing more than shambling monstrosities of flesh, fused together with other members of their kin. Each of the horrors had more eyes than such an amphibian should have, they all scanned the grimy landscape, and yet they did not notice the Halcyons waltzing up to their noses.

The Captain moved closer to one of the creatures and examined it almost curiously. He could see where the bodies of the amphibians were mutilated and he saw where their bones and joints blended together. He leaned close, so close that a sudden attack from the creature would have found him defenseless. But the Captain knew it wouldn’t move unprompted. He was soon satisfied with his findings, they arrived in time. He made a sign, and the dark-clad warriors struck down the creatures, their axes and machetes heaving fast and without mercy, spilling black bile and guts on the sodden ground. It was difficult to burn the bodies in the deluge, but they found a way like they always had. The white phosphorus shined brightly.

Their job that day had a few extra challenges. Not only did the heavy rain render their flamethrowers near useless, but their main target, a massive granite complex, was mostly underwater; well suited for amphibians but rather unwelcoming for humans.

Close air support attacked from the skies, and rockets cracked open the structure. Malformed creatures and water poured out from the opening, but the Halcyons were ready. Their guns worked without pause, though they had little effect. Even if one of the creatures were felled by the flurry of bullets it soon rose again, reanimated by the vile intelligence behind it all. The Halcyons baited their enemies to a well-prepared area. A chain of explosions lit up the storm-dark landscape, and the creatures were torn to shreds.

The Halcyons stormed the building. They dispatched the remaining guards and searched for the heart of darkness. They traversed the alien geometries with skill, and even when the laws of nature abandoned them in the depths of that dark pyramid, they pressed on. The fetid ground twisted before their eyes, and they had to take good care to avoid the parts where flesh fused with granite and to always step on stone, as if they were playing a most foul version of the floor is lava. A sudden shift caught one of the Halcyons in a fleshy trap, his right leg was stuck in a pocket of tendons and muscle, stopping him in his tracks. The Captain swung his axe after a glance, the steel bit the warrior just above the knee. The hole swallowed the severed appendage, adding the matter to its horrid structure. The maimed warrior did not cry out, he didn’t even yelp, his empty eyes betrayed no emotion. A white substance poured out from where his uniform was shredded, and it swiftly closed up the wound, stopping the bleeding. The medic pulled out a small metal rod from his utility belt, pressed a button, and the metal obediently transformed into a full-fledged prosthetic leg. He attached it to the warrior’s stump and the pair soon rejoined the pursuit.

They found their target in a deep crevasse. The pure hatred and malice radiating from that hole was enough to drive a living soul to slavering insanity. The Halcyons did not flinch. The Captain armed a large explosive device, he walked through the damp ceiling and was ready to toss it to the deep, when a limping tendril caught his arm. It pressed him against the bile-soaked wall, preventing him from casting down the bomb. He did not hesitate. He pulled out his knife and struck at his arm, just below the shoulder. The first strike bit through the flesh and stopped in the bone, the second cut through the bone and left only a small tether of tendon and skin on the other side. The third blow severed the rest; the arm and the bomb fell upon the horror below. The Captain did not blink; it was but a mundane task for his kind.

The explosion did not destroy the creature, but it gave an opening to the warriors. Their deeds would remain unsung. As they always have been, as they always will be. It was the way it had to be, but the Halcyons did not mind, for they did not seek glory, unlike their livelier colored cousins. Their war was different.

Chapter 6

Rachel woke up from her slumber, her nightgown damp from all the sweat. She dreamed again, it was the same movie she had seen every night since her arrival. The shadowy figure and the little bird and their brutal and violent battle. She was only half awake; still afraid the whole world was breaking under the struggle.

"Rise and shine, it’s already… oh, you are awake!" Peter’s red grinning face appeared in the door. His smile faded and he walked up to Rachel, crouching down by her bed. "Are you alright? You look sick," he felt up her forehead with his right hand. "Feverish even. Alright, you stay in bed, I will have Mr. Tespas check up on you."

"No need," Rachel protested. "I’m fine, just a nightmare," she quickly got out of bed.

"Are you sure? Rae, I don’t want to insult you, because I’m scared of you," he winked, "but you look positively ill. A day of rest could help…"

"I’m fine Peter, thank you. Just nightmares."

"Nightmares, as in plural?" Peter asked with an eyebrow raised.

Rachel cursed herself for the mistake.

"Look, it’s normal after interstellar travel, something with the Iter-drive I think."

"Yeah, I traveled a lot before, it shouldn’t last weeks…" Peter said while squinting at his cousin. "What did you see?"

"A man, it looked more like a shadow really…" Rachel sighed.

"The Master? The Master revealed himself to you? That’s a good thing, you shouldn’t be scared!" Peter laughed with relief. "He may be daunting at first, but don’t be afraid! Have you felt the warmth too?"

"Well, yeah I guess… but I really don’t want to discuss religion first thing in the morning! Now let me dress!"

Peter laughed and left the room to make breakfast. Fearing the Master, how silly! Rachel sighed as her cousin left, she was glad she said nothing of the little avian. A few days ago she borrowed an atlas about birds, adamant to find the belligerent blue and yellow fowl. But it had to wait, for it was time to get to work. Thankfully her station was no longer in the workshop, the adults realized she clicked very well with the kids, so they assigned her to the school together with Alena, much to the chagrin of the latter. Educational duties were reserved for the most pious of the village, it was a privilege, and she was always the first to volunteer when the elders needed something in service of the Master. And now she had to share with the uppity outsider. Rachel however just enjoyed teaching no matter the subject and the children loved her. Even Alena was tolerable during these times, acting gracious in the open, and holding back on the meaner comments, save for the occasional jabs.

The other teens slowly forgot their grudges against the outsider as the weeks went by, some even became her friends and Alena could barely contain her jealousy; her comments were less and less appreciated. Rachel suspected her charming personality wasn’t the sole reason for the shift in opinions, Tom also made some groundwork. The boy made every excuse under the sun to be around her, but for the time being it was Peter, who readily exploited the opportunity; his house was never cleaner and his pantry was tidily organized, not to mention the neatly trimmed hedges.

After noon they all left for the orchard to pick fruits, the kids could barely contain themselves and rushed forward, ignoring Alena’s admonishments. Rachel looked after them with a smile.

"They are really eager to work! Are we this boring?"

"It’s because of the festivities," Alena explained.

"The what?" Rachel was perplexed. She knew some event was coming, but she wasn’t too keen to learn more about it before, school celebrations tended to be dull affairs.

"The Ripening. We thank the Master for all he provides," Alena’s mouth turned into a frown. She tried to make it look like a reassuring smile, but lying wasn’t the youngster’s forte. "Speaking of which, do you want to be my Peach Pair?"

"What is that?" Rachel stopped and stared at Alena, looking for signs of trickery. Meanwhile, Alena tried to make her smile friendlier, more encouraging. It scarcely worked.

"We will play games! Come on, we have to bury the hatchet one day!" Her smile was entirely dishonest; the girl was a terrible liar, and Rachel could see it from a mile away. But she decided play along.

"Alright, let’s bury the hatchet!" Rachel’s smile on the other hand seemed completely genuine; a good liar lies with the eyes.

The girls helped the kids carry the fruits back to the main square, and they went to the tea house to get their costumes. The cozy living room with its ugly decorations still held a strong camomile scent from earlier that day. Peter aided the youngsters, he handed out the colorful costumes to the kids, and he also dropped along a jokey remark with each. The smaller ones laughed, but the teens just rolled their eyes at him, which he enjoyed as much as the laughter. When Rachel and Alena reached him, Peter stopped for a moment, finding this brand new friendship highly suspect.

"And you two?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We are the Peach Pairs!" Alena blurted out with enthusiasm.

"Alright, here’s your peach," he handed an ugly yellow costume to Lena. "Do you mind if I talk to my cousin for a moment?" He asked but did not wait for the answer and pulled Rachel away.

"Do you know what game you are going to play?" he asked.

"A fairground game you guys spiced up a bit? Or peached up," she shrugged.

"I hoped you two made up," Peter sighed. "You will sit above a huge bowl of, guess what, peaches, on a tight board, like this," he knocked on the wall. "Lena the same, and you will have to hit a small lever to drop the other down into the bowl. Whoever gives up first loses."

"Peter, are you using our butts to make jam? I know you have a sweet tooth, but it’s extreme even for you!" Rachel said with pretend indignation.

"Don’t be so full of yourself, you are just going to pulp it up a bit. Well, not you, I’m pulling you out of the game."

"No need Cuz, it will be fun," Rachel protested.

"Look, Lena is good at this, and I don’t want her to humiliate you. She has won this game three years in a row!"

"Wow, she plays this game once every year? I’m scared!" Rachel laughed. "Besides, I really have to make her rethink her cattiness, and without ending up in the principal’s office. My dad wouldn’t be happy."

"I’m sure you won’t find it funny when you are covered in fruit from head to toe! Please don’t make this about your pride. I will talk to her later. Seriously, three years in a row!" Peter said as he put away the other yellow costume into a drawer.

"Cuz, I played handball for ten years," she waited for her words to hit her cousin. He straightened up, slowly pulled the dress back out, and handed it to Rachel with a grin.

"Alright Rae, but don’t be too rough."

"No promises," Rachel smiled as she put on the ugly yellow thing over her brown dress. It wasn’t that itchy after all.

The whole community gathered in the middle of the village, the square was filled with talking and laughter. The sweet smell of flowers and fruits surrounded them, and the long tables covered with red and white patched tablecloths were crumbling under the weight of food and pastries. As the sun began to vanish behind the horizon torches were lit and the games began. The kids started their races, while the adults cheered on from the tables and filled their bellies with snacks. There were two teams, red and blue to keep it simple, and it was a tight race. As is usual, the parents cared more about the points than the kids themselves, and sometimes the elders had to step in to calm their tempers. Chief among them was white-haired Maurete, who liked to wave her bony finger at the offenders while sharing an earful with them about behaving. Team Blue had a small lead when the time had come for Rachel’s race. She tied a small red armband on her and climbed up the ladder to her perch. It wasn’t too high up from the ground; nobody wanted to risk a serious injury. Alena did the same, the native girl was far more confident and she eagerly sat at the edge of the board above the big bowl of fruits.

"Hurry up friend, we don’t have all night," she goaded Rachel.

Rachel carefully crawled to the front and looked for the lever that would drop her rival below. Five, maybe six yards at most, she counted. Childsplay. Below them were two pool-sized vessels, both filled to the brim with already pitted soft fruits. The outworlder could choose between going first since Team Red was behind, or going second, but with a chance for double the points. She of course chose the latter. Alena grinned ear to ear. She took aim, even squinting an eye to properly measure the distance, and let the peach fly. It hit a bough above the lever and a good quarter of the exploding fruit landed on Rachel’s head.

"Not bad, it was really close," Rachel lauded her rival’s throw while wiping away the soft pulp from her hair.

"You say “really” really often, you know that?" Alena mocked.

"Really?" Rachel answered with a grin. She aimed carefully and hit the lever on the first attempt. Lena fell screaming into the pool of peaches. The girl crawled out fast and angry, pulping the goods as she went. They repeated it three times, and Alena was smeared head-to-toe in an ever-growing paint of ripe fruit, but it was the laughter all around that truly hurt her. She ran away sobbing after her fourth fall. Rachel enjoyed the cheers and the lauding of her team, but soon her conscience got the better of her. She slipped away and went after Alena. It wasn’t hard to follow her footsteps; the orange patches staining the grass gave far more insight into the matter than breadcrumbs would have.

Rachel found her rival at the barn huddled against the red wall, sitting in the dirt. Her face was red and puffy from all the tears and she did not notice Rachel at first.

"Are you alright?" Rachel knew it was a stupid question, but she wasn’t sure how to start. Alena’s head shot up and she threw a peach in her direction, missing her target by a good yard.

"Go away! What else do you want from me?" she screamed. "I hate you, I hate that you are here, and I hate peaches!" Lena got up, and she emphasized her feelings by throwing more fruits at Rachel, who waited out the rain behind the open barn door.

"I didn’t realize I upset you this much," she admitted.

"I am not upset; you are just an outsider! Go away!"

"I will, you know I came only for a few months?"

Rachel peeked out and saw that Alena was on the ground again, with her arms wrapped around her legs resting her face on her knees. Rachel walked up to her.

"Seriously, I will go home next month. Only seven weeks."

"I don’t care," Alena answered, her voice completely deflated.

"I will. Really."

Alena looked up at her rival and shook her head.

"No, you won’t. Nobody does."

"What do you mean?" Rachel looked at her puzzled.

"People just like it here. Mr. Roberts was an inspector sent to investigate us, and even he settled down here. And people love you much better than me anyway, maybe I should go to the Master instead," Alena's voice cracked with those last words. Rachel almost burst out laughing but stopped herself at the last second. Poor Alena was so insecure, she thought as she knelt beside her, hugging her tightly.

"Let go of me, or I will hit you," the native girl threatened, but she did not pull away.

"Let’s face it, you are really not good at hitting me today," Rachel joked and refused to let go. "I’m just a curiosity, just a visitor passing by, of course people find me interesting. They will forget my name soon after I leave, but you will always be their Lena." She held the local girl until her sobs stopped. "Do you rea… seriously hate peaches?" she asked after Lena calmed down a bit.

"Yeah, they are just gross. The big ones that make a huge mess, I’m fine with the little yellows. We should call them something else," she wiped her eyes, completely forgetting they were called apricots.

Rachel eyed up the few remaining buckets of ripe reddish crops. Most were already pooled into the common foodstuffs or handed out to families, but some stragglers remained. She grabbed two and instructed Lena to do the same. The girls entered the barn and Rachel had almost spilled the contents of her first bucket to the pigs when Alena stopped her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded in a hushed voice.

"Saving you from the peaches," she winked. "Come on, everyone else is feasting, and the animals are having their usual feed. It’s not fair. They should celebrate the Ripening too!" And with that, she poured out the first bucket to the pigs.

Lena’s eyes widened, and the brunette girl covered her mouth. Rachel waved her to help, and after a moment of hesitation she joined with a guilty smile, they poured out the contents of the second one together.

"Okay, let’s feed the others too! Where is Polly?" Rachel searched for her favorite woolly friend.

"The Master called her to himself," Lena explained. The blonde girl was taken aback by her casual tone. "It’s an honor," she continued. "My parents were called too."

"Oh," Rachel understood now, or at least she thought she did, and rubbed Lena’s shoulder. "So that’s why you live with Maurete, she’s your grandma, right?"

"Yes, she was chosen as elder after my parents were called."

The outworlder youth made a sympathetic frown. The locals were very serious about their faith, so she usually refrained from making remarks, especially in such somber matters. They spread out the rest of the fruits among the animals, sheep, goats, cows, even the chickens got a taste. After they finished they snuck back to the party, packed up food and drinks, and returned to the barn to talk. At first, it was just casual chit-chat, gossip about the community, and the like, but soon Lena began to bombard her new friend with questions about her homeworld. The native girl was curious about every detail, and Rachel described many of the tools and objects of modern life, things that were mundane for her, but miraculous for Alena, who often made incredulous grins, unsure if the other girl was just messing with her.

She concentrated so much on the explanations that even her nose started to bleed a little, she had to stop it with a towel. Later on, Lena opened up about the loss of her parents, and how much she missed them, while Rachel detailed how she ended up at the little moon, and after a bit of vacillation, she also talked about her strange dreams. Her new friend found those curious, but after a bit of hesitation she assured Rachel that the Master would accept her. She wanted to say something else about the Master, but her nose started to bleed again, stopping her attempt. They continued on with lighter topics, and only after the break of dawn did they leave for home. It was fine, the main square still held a good handful of stragglers, who enjoyed their drinks a little too much.

Edit: An extreme amount of formatting.

First | Return

File- (T) 1364b (Trial Log) - [Files of the Cult Vatraxos]

Date: [355th Rotation of the Core World]

The Guilty: Thatolian Lord Teronan, Nexus Commander of the Dominion 3rd Fleet.

Judges: High Brethren of the Inner Circle

Opening Statement: [Member A4 of the Inner Circle]

We, those who speak forth for the mother tongue of glory over those lesser than thou kin, bring forth charges against this Traitor to our very nature. The judgement of the High Brethren of the Inner Circle judge Thatolian Lord Teronan †, guilty of Failure, Insubordination of subordinates, Creating a breach of Security and High Treason of the Mind. Thus the punishment is death.

† emplaced as Nexus Commander of the Dominion 3rd Fleet by the meetings upon the 352th rotation of the core world. [File: (M)640]

Trial Proceedings:

[B5]: “Bring forth the prisoner!”

( [The Guilty] is escorted through the gate. His appearance shows signs of physical distress, with torn clothing and bruising. He is bound in thick metallic chains and has a bag tied around his head. He is pulled to the stand by [B6] and the bag removed as a spotlight shines in his eyes.)

[Guilty]: “I- d- Don’t know you people, I haven’t done anything- I-”

[Voice of the Circle, A10]: “SILENCE”

[Guilty]: “I-”

[A10]: “SILENCE! YOU STAND ACCUSED BY THE CULT OF VATRAXOS, HOW DO YOU PLEAD.”

[Guilty]: “Vatrax-”

[A10]: “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

(Snickering is heard from the upper gantry)

[Guilty]: “I- He- If- No… I’m not guilty! I’m THE NEXUS COMMANDER FOR-”

(Electrical crackle, Raucous laughter, Guilty is kicked to the floor by [B6])

[A10] “YOU ARE NOTHING, SNIVELLING PREY. EARNER OF NOTHING.”

(Guilty is pulled to the stand by [B6])

[A10]: “I REPEAT, FOR THE PREY’S INADEQUATE EARS!”

(A number of members lean inwards from the upper gantry hungrily, drinks and food pouring upon the floor.)

[A10] “HOW. DO. YOU. PLEAD!” [A10]

(The Guilty looks down at himself for a moment and weeps before looking defiantly towards the light.)

[Guilty] “I earned my position, I- was respected…” (B5 shakes his head at B6)

[Guilty] “You can call me guilty but you’ll never-”

[A10] “IT HAS ADMITTED ITS CRIMES! THE PUNISHMENT IS DEATH!”

(Cheering and celebrations erupt from the upper gantry)

List of Crimes:

• Failure to carry forth his mission.

• Repeated deliberation of the explosive devices.

• Ordered subordinates to remove explosive devices without authorisation.

• Insubordination of subordinates.

• Loss of control over the Prey.

• Failure to regain control.

• Creating a breach of Security.

• Driving a ship to crash into an undiscovered system instead of the intended target.

• Allowing the notification of security forces.

• High Treason of the Mind.

• The Inner Circle decrees it so that due to these crimes it is clear Lord Teronan has no longer the Aptitude and Intelligence of a Hunter of Vatraxos and is not a True Hunter, therefore for the honour of his species has been convicted of such.

Related Documents:

• Thatolian Species Decree of Initiation - [File: (D)42]
• Decree of the Finality of Law - [File: (L)1]
• Addendum 613 Laws of Vatraxos - [File: (L)623]
• Intelligence Report 355/9/22 - [File: (I)355922c]

Result of trial:

Lord Teronan was found guilty on all charges and delivered alive unto the sacred maw, his flesh offered to sate the eternal hunger of the Hunters of Vatraxos.

File Ends

Next:

• Appointment of a successor to Dominion Nexus Commander. [ Attendees: The Circle (B) ]
• Continuation of the grand plan. [ Attendees: The Inner Circle (A) ]

First | Return

First chapter: On Our Own Terms : r/HFY

Previous chapter: On Our Own Terms: Chapter Seven : r/HFY

Chapter Eight: Forged in Resolve

July 30, 09:40, 2122, Mary Rose, low orbit over New Alexandria

The Mary Rose hovered in the muted light of New Alexandria’s dawn. A deceptive calm cloaked the ship. Stars glimmered beyond the viewport, indifferent to the storm brewing within.

The decision had been made, but its weight pressed down on every soul aboard. The corridors were alive with murmurs of fear, hope, and quiet determination. The hum of the ship seemed deeper now, as though the ship itself understood the gravity of what lay ahead.

The clang of boots against metal and the constant hum of the ship’s ventilation sounded like a vacuum running in the next room. The faint scent of oil, sweat, and recycled air hung heavily, clinging to uniforms and skin. Faces that had once been filled with fear were now hardening into expressions of grim determination.

Captain Holsey stood in the galley, facing Vargas, Owens, and Adams. The air was thick, almost stifling. Holsey’s gaze swept across the room. 

These people were engineers, cooks, and teachers, not soldiers. And yet here we are, standing on the brink of war.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “We’ve committed,” Holsey said, his voice steady, though the shadows in his eyes betrayed the turmoil beneath. “We stand and fight alongside New Alexandria, but stay sharp. I don’t trust Sato. There’s a shadow behind his eyes, something he’s not sharing with us. And in war, secrets can get people killed. I intend to find out what he’s hiding.”

Vargas crossed his arms, jaw clenched. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready for anything.”

Owens nodded, her expression grim. “We need to make sure this ship is ready for combat. No margin for error.”

Holsey’s eyes flicked to Adams. The engineer’s face was drawn, but he met Holsey’s gaze with a determined nod. “We’ll check every system, every bolt. She won’t let us down.”

Holsey exhaled slowly. “Good. Dismissed.”

As they dispersed, Holsey lingered a moment longer. The weight of command was a vice around his chest. He glanced at the viewport, the swirling clouds of New Alexandria reflecting the uncertainty in his eyes.

In a quiet corner of the galley, Zach sat beside Sarah. The din of conversation faded around them.

Zach ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling slightly. The weight of everything pressed down on him. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Zach murmured, his voice brittle. “I’m no soldier, Sarah. I’m just a guy who knows how to fix things. Engines don’t shoot back. I moved to Everest to escape war, not run headlong into one.”

He glanced down at his grease-stained hands, hands that could fix engines but had never held a weapon in anger.

What good would I be out there?

Sarah placed her hand over his, steadying him. “You don’t have to be a soldier. You keep the ship running. You’re the reason we’re still alive.”

He looked at her, eyes shadowed with doubt. “And what about you? You’re ready to fight?”

She nodded, her eyes hardening. “I have to be. I can’t let them take anything more from us.” She squeezed his hand. “We’ll protect each other. You fix the ship, I’ll watch your back.”

Zach’s lips curled into a faint, hesitant smile. “Together?”

“Together.”

August 13, 2122, Mary Rose, low orbit over New Alexandria

The clang of metal echoed through the cargo bay, which had been turned into a firing range, as Zach missed the target with his sidearm. Vargas stood behind him, arms crossed.

“Again,” Vargas said, his tone unforgiving.

Zach’s jaw clenched, his breath coming in short, angry bursts. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. Zach’s fists clenched, his arms shaking from the strain of holding the sidearm steady. He squeezed the trigger, but the shot went wide, the clang of the missed target echoing his frustration. “I’m an engineer, not a soldier,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice tight with exhaustion.

Later, in the engineering bay, a cacophony of clanging tools and murmured instructions filled the air. Sparks flew from welding torches, and the smell of ozone was prevalent. Zach wiped the sweat from his brow, smudging grease across his face. The tokamak fusion reactor’s constant hum is a reassuring heartbeat.

“Recheck the coolant lines,” Zach instructed, his voice hoarse. “We can’t afford a failure mid-jump.”

A young mechanic, eyes wide with exhaustion, nodded and got to work.

Zach moved to the power monitoring systems panel. Wires sprawled like veins beneath the casing. His hands worked quickly, reconnecting circuits and tightening connections. Engines don’t shoot back, he thought, the mantra keeping his anxiety at bay.

Suddenly, the console flickered, and a circuit breaker popped. He cursed, slamming a fist against it. 

“Problems?” Adams’s voice rumbled from behind.

Zach exhaled sharply. “Nothing I can’t fix. It’s just… there’s so much work to do, and so many systems overdue for maintenance. The age of this ship is really starting to show with how dated these systems are.”

Adams placed a hand on his shoulder. “You're doing fine. Without engineers, we’re dead in space. Remember that. And the systems being analog gives us an edge if we have an electrical attack.”

Zach nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I’ll remember.” 

Zach exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of calm settle over him. Maybe he wasn’t a soldier, but if he could keep this ship running, that was enough.

August 21, 2122, New Alexandria military base Cartwright 

On the shooting range, Vargas barked orders, his voice sharp and relentless. “Keep your form tight! If you freeze up out there, you’re dead.”

The recruits—some still wearing civilian clothes—gripped their rifles, eyes wide with fear. The scent of sweat and gunpowder filled the air.

Sarah lay prone on the ground, rifle steady, her breath even. The target shimmered a hundred meters away. She lined up the shot, her world narrowing to the scope’s crosshairs.

Exhale. Squeeze.

The shot cracked through the air. The target flared red—direct hit.

Vargas’s eyes narrowed approvingly. “Good shot, Sarah. I want to see you hit the far-right target.”

Without speaking she racked the bolt on her rifle, the action clicked smoothly into place as another round entered the chamber. The chill of the rifle’s metal seeped into her fingertips. The fire control system displayed the target’s distance—5,000 meters. The wind whispered across the range, tugging at her hair. She took a slow breath, her mind narrowing to a single thought: just one shot, one clean hit. The target shimmered in the distance, barely more than a blur. Taking her time she waited for her shot to line up. 

She exhaled slowly, took up the slack on the trigger, and fired. The rifle’s crack split the air, a puff of dirt being thrown up behind around the muzzle. 

Just after 5 seconds, Vargas’ datapad showed a hit. He ordered her to do that twice more, twice more she hit the target.

“Outstanding, you’ve got the eye of a marksman Sarah.”

She rolled to her feet, wiping dust from her pants. “Thank you, Sir,” she is adapting to the military lifestyle quickly.

He nodded. “You’re going to be your squad’s recon.”

A thought crept in. What if she missed? What if her squad needed her, and she wasn’t fast enough? She shook the thought away. There was no room for doubt. 

August 24, 2122, New Alexandria military base Cartwright

Ruiz moved through combat drills with an ease that made him stand out. His shots were quick, controlled, and rarely missed. Other recruits began looking to him for guidance.

After a particularly grueling session, Vargas approached him. “You’ve done this before.”

Ruiz wiped the sweat from his brow, nodding. “Yeah. Feels like another lifetime.”

For a moment, Ruiz was back on that distant battlefield—the screams, the smoke, the faces of his last squad, eyes wide with fear and trust. The weight of their loss settled on his shoulders like lead. He swallowed hard. This time, he told himself, would be different. It had to be.

“You’re wasted as a grunt. I need leaders.” Vargas’s gaze was steady. “I’m promoting you to sergeant.”

Ruiz’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure I’m the right man for this.”

“You are,” Vargas said firmly. “We need you.”

He nodded once. “I’ll do what’s needed.”

“Good. We’re going to need you.”

The weight of the sergeant’s stripes felt all too familiar. He still dreamed of his last command—the faces he couldn’t save, the orders that haunted him. He clenched his jaw. This time would be different.

August 26, 2122, New Alexandria, low orbit, Command Station Ripley 

The conference room on Command Station Ripley was cold and sterile, a stark contrast to the heated discussion within. Vargas sat stiffly beside Holsey, his eyes scanning the room.

Holsey’s eyes scanned the room. Admiral Sato sat at the head, his face impassive and there was a guardedness behind his eyes. Captains from Tijuana, Okayama, and New Alexandria filled the seats, their expressions ranging from wary to hostile.

Captain Consiglio from Tijuana leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. “New Alexandria’s promises don’t mean much to the dead of Tijuana,” Captain Consiglio snapped. “New Alexandria abandoned every other system once they knew what was happening. We should be meeting the enemy where they are, not waiting for them to come to us while innocent people are slaughtered at Krasnoyarsk and Voronezh. How many more systems will you abandon before you decide to fight?”

Sato’s jaw tightened but remained calm. “We’re not the enemy here. But if we keep fighting each other, we’ll make it easy for the ones who are. If we don’t stand together now, we’ll all fall.”

What aren’t you telling us, Admiral? Holsey’s gut churned with unease. The man’s mask of calm was slipping, the cracks showing through his carefully chosen words. Whatever it was, Holsey knew it could change everything.

The pieces weren’t adding up, and in war, half-truths could kill just as easily as bullets.

Holsey’s voice cut through the tension. “What is your plan? Use those people as a shield?”

Sato met his gaze, something flickering Holsey couldn’t place—guilt, fear, or maybe something worse. The admiral’s fingers resumed their relentless tapping, a rhythm that spoke of secrets buried just beneath the surface. “We sent ships to warn them and to run here. It is not my fault that they did not heed my warning.” His jaw tightened. “We’re not the enemy here. But if we keep fighting each other, we’ll make it easy for the ones who are.” It wasn’t enough, but it was all they had to go on to trust him.

Holsey’s eyes narrowed. Sato’s voice was smooth and practiced, but his fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the table—a tiny betrayal of the tension he was trying to hide. Vargas leaned in, his voice low. “I don’t buy it. He’s holding something back. Maybe he’s playing for time. Maybe we’re just pawns in his game.” Holsey’s gut twisted with unease.

What are you hiding from us?

Back on the Mary Rose, the night settled like a shroud. The hum of the ship was the only sound.

Zach shared a video call with Sarah on the surface.

“Your hair’s so much shorter now.”

“Yeah,” she said, running her fingers through it. “It didn’t fit in my helmet.”

“We’ll tell Vargas he needs to go back to cosmetology school,” that got a good chuckle out of her, and she smiled.

Zach’s face turned darker, shadows pooling under his eyes. “Whatever happens,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship, “we’ve made our choice”’ He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “I just... I just don’t want to lose you.”

Sarah’s eyes softened, the glow from the communication pad highlighting the determination in her gaze. “You won’t. Not as long as we’re together.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up by her communication pad in the dim light. “Together.”

Holsey’s voice crackled over the intercom.

“We’ve made our choice. We stand and fight. Everest—our home—may be lost, but we are not. We are the line in the sand. And we will hold.”

The lights of the planet shimmered below, fragile against the darkness. The storm was coming. 

Next chapter: Soon ^(TM)

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[Author's Notes] THIS IS IMPORTANT! I HAVE REVISED AND EDITED THE PAST 12 CHAPTERS OR SO (BACK TO CHAPTER 16), SOMETIMES SIGNIFICANTLY! ...I had to go back through them all to catch myself up on the story and add them to the series wiki page, and I've made changes ranging from fixing typos to adding and/or subtracting paragraphs worth of text. I apologize. This isn't something I should do in a serial, but there were things that I needed to fix, alter, or add. While the story is generally in the same spot it was plotwise, the exact way we got to that place and some of the conversations/relationships between certain characters are different. I hope it's better. Also, sorry for taking such a long break - I haven't been in a condition to write for a bit.

[High Professor Ghartok]

"Do not engage any other vessels unless they engage you first," I told my Leporidae student, who was circling over our area, "stay up there and keep a sharp eye out! We've got an ally with a much better close air support VTOL spacecraft, and I think he just paid off the local government to not fuck with us."

"Does that mean I can pull outside the atmosphere?" he asked, "I don't want to scorch her chrome. Well, any more than I have. Sorry, sir-"

"Fuck the chrome!" High Professor Ghartok said, "you are the only one I trust to keep our path out of this gravity well clear, and things are complicated. Complicated to the point we may need to 'requisition' a couple of civilian spaceliners to haul everyone out of here."

Alright, I needed to link up with ...what the [UNPRONOUNCEABLE TIGER GOD] was going on here? They were loading gold bars into busses using golf carts? But I could see that those busses were getting loaded with gold, along with their occupants. "I'm pretty sure we've got your relative, and we're headed to the local spaceport," I told him, "so keep the lane out of there clear. Continue ignoring anything Ground Control tells you."

"Do not engage any spacecraft until it proves hostile, ignore Ground Control, and keep the flight paths out of the spaceport clear! Copy!" I heard in my earpiece, and I was absolutely sure that enthusiasm didn't stem from simple fear of me. We were blooded together now, according to his culture's tradition. I tried not to smile, because I really didn't want to scare anyone here. Admittedly, that was probably a futile endeavor, given who and what I was.

"Would you mind tuning to our frequency?" Don Lorenzo asked me, "we could coordinate better that way. It's [I'm not giving a number here, because I know I'd be wrong]."

"Additional order!" I said, looking at the fresh and stripped corpse of a nearly-decapitated sharklike alien, "tune to [I'm not giving a number here, because I know I'd be wrong] frequency so that we'll all be on the same one! Five seconds!"

...retuning my own earpiece was a bit of a hassle, and as soon as I did it, I heard "INSIDE ME!" ...and some extremely heavy breathing. Ok, at least somebody was having fun in all this mess. I gave Don Lorenzo a side look, and he just shrugged.

"These things happen," he told me, rather levelly. I slashed off long strips of the sharklike alien's skin with my claws and started eating its flesh.

"You with me?" I asked my student/pilot after taking a couple of bites.

"Yeah, I'm on the frequency," my student responded. There is nothing like fresh raw seafood, and I chose a bit where it didn't look like I had to deal with shrapnel and bullets. Don Lorenzo was transfixed with a mixture of horror and awe. "You want a bite?" I asked him.

Instead of giving a response, he whipped out quite a large knife and carved himself a nice big chunk of what humans call 'sashimi', then bit into it.

"That's some damn good sashimi!" he said, "and incredibly fresh! Sjoe, I feel like I've just been eating kak all these years, even when they charged me top dollar!."

"Yeah," I said, gore painting my muzzle, "it's absolutely best when it's fresh."

The Don didn't respond to me - he was too busy chowing down. But he nodded. Damn it was good to sink my teeth in like the predator I was, even if it was someone else's kill and still had the blood in it. Although the sight made a couple of the Leporidae-driven golf carts swerve a little, it was completely worth it.

If a photo or video of this ever got back to the college, I'd probably lose tenure as fast as procedures allowed. But I could at least argue my case. The only argument going through my head right now was "this guy is fucking tasty!"

"You know," Don Lorenzo said, his mouth still half-full with meat, "I really should have tried this before. Maybe it would have given my capos the right degree of fear. And it's delicious!"

First, Previous, Next, Patreon (W/ Rizz).

////

Synopsis

//Current Year:3716//

The war between humanity and the ASH ended two years ago, but the scars of the conflict litter the galaxy. Hundreds of worlds were turned into irradiated wastelands and subsequently abandoned by both sides.

Restoration efforts on a few select worlds have begun, but it will take decades before initial efforts start to show any tangible progress. Gothic Choir 19 is not one of these worlds. It sits, remote, empty, and neglected. Only an automated factory producing food cartridges remains.

It is breaking down over time, being crushed beneath the sands of the desert its located in.

This is the story of that factory.

////

//Date: 3716-10-31//

//41,474 days since first maintenance request//

//11 days of power remaining in fusion reactor//

//Query: Void Universe//

//Response//

A parallel dimension to our own. The exact specifications are unknown, but a few possibilities exist:

1. An alternate universe consisting purely of energy, lacking any form of entropy. 

2. A portal not to a different dimension but rather back to a time predating the Big Bang.

3. Neither a different universe nor time, but rather a higher plain of space within which all universes exist at once. In a sense, the “void” within which all possible realities exist. 

While the void universe gets its name primarily from the latter possibility, this does not mean it is any more likely than the first. 

What we do know is that the void universe allows for faster than light travel and matter/energy replication with return ratios above 1:1. That is to say, access to the universe has left humanity in a post-scarcity environment from the perspective of an entire universe. 

The void universe may be the key that holds the answer to the ultimate existential question: W4@)(;$&@+_

//Error: Corrupted data detected!//

//Query: Cancelled//

I'm gonna build a fucking rocket! 

Well a regular rocket I mean, I don't really know how a rocket would- ahh it's fine. I'm sure you got what I meant the first time and now I'm just digging this hole deeper…

But if I keep digging maybe I'll find gold? Or the secrets to the universe? Or the mad-lad solution to making a robot that fucks! 

Nah I'm definitely just digging this hole deeper. As someone wise once said: 

*Glitch effects*

“You can let the world believe you're a fool, or you can open your mouth and remove all doubt.” 

*Glitch effects*

Huh that's odd. I don't know who said that, the quote doesn't appear anywhere in my database. How did I… 

So rockets! I can hear you asking already, my captive audience (you're literally captive, you're inside my mind you cannot go anywhere.): ‘how do rockets work anyway?’ 

Well chemical rockets, which is what I'll be making, work by combining an oxidiser with a fuel and then igniting it inside a nozzle to create a controlled explosion. If you think about it, and really mentally squint, it's kinda like a reserve bullet. 

Actually forget that metaphor, it's nothing like that. 

So currently all I have is the fuel, ethanol, and the oxidizer, liquid oxygen. 

What I need is two tanks—one for each mixture—a series of tubes and pumps to mix the two together in absolutely massive volumes, a nozzle, and an aerodynamic body to put it all in! 

Let's start with the tanks. They're the simplest. The tanks need to be pressurised, cause like, this is going into space, amongst other reasons… 

So the age-old question then, what's the strongest type of container that uses the smallest amount of material? Because, being a rocket, we want this thing to be as light as possible. Answer? 10 points if you already knew this, but a sphere is the correct shape. 

I mean honestly, did you expect I'd say hexagon? Get outta here. 

Now a sphere leaves much to be desired aerodynamically—the more volume you need to store, the bigger the sphere becomes, and the bigger it becomes the less aerodynamically efficient the rocket becomes. Which is important considering we have to punch through the atmosphere in order to get to space. 

A fun little life hack though. You start by cutting a sphere in half, and dragging the two halves away from one another. Then you take a roll of whatever material you used to create the sphere and connect the two halves—

And it's a cylinder! I'm over explaining a cylinder to you. You use a cylinder with hemispheres on the ends, you get a thinner rocket with more fuel and oxidiser. Then you wrap those fuel tanks in an aerodynamic shell, put an engine on the bottom, put crew on top (in this case, Speedyboi) and throw it at the stars as hard as you can. 

Honestly the basics of rocket science really aren’t that hard. Especially when you can forgo all of the actual hard engineering (like how to make an aerospike engine that doesn't melt immediately. Or how to make a CHECK THIS: single flow engine that doesn't drown itself in carbon build up and melt immediately. Or how to create a lighter than air material out of steel, aluminium and copper that doesn't melt immediately) and just produce the parts you need based on the schematics you have loaded. 

Btw, turns out I actually do have electrical generator schematics and didn't have to reverse engineer a fucking golf cart motor, it's just that they are located in the standard human emergency archive and I was looking through the proprietary Crown Heavy Industries archive so umm… 

Whoops? 

The best part about using Speedyboi as the “pilot” is that I don't have to bother with many of the electronics systems, I just need to create a “cradle” of sorts on the front of the rocket that he'll plug into, which will allow him to read the various sensors dotted around the rocket and control the thing as if it's an extension of his own adorable little ball-body. 

The one thing I won't be skimping on is pilot safety. Best case scenario for this mission would see Speedyboi more or less crashing the entire rocket into a massive hunk of space debris and then riding that as it deorbits before lithobraking (hopefully) nearby myself. 

Which, if you're not familiar with the term, ‘lithobraking’ is just a fancy way of saying: Slamming into the ground at speeds in excess of ‘oh shit’.

Worst case, the rocket explodes halfway to space, which honestly would probably be less dangerous for him then best case, so we've gotta do something about that. Let’s assume total disassembly: Speedyboi is in or near orbit and is falling back down to the planet. He needs to survive re-entry. How do we go about making that happen?

Obviously, step one is an ablative shell for Speedyboi’s chassis that can withstand the heat of atmospheric re-entry. 

What if he ends up disconnecting from the rocket? Speedyboi can fly, but his little thrusters can only do so much work, and if he's flung at the planet at multiple times the speed of sound they might not be enough. Or he might run out of energy trying to slow down. So a parachute pack attached rather crudely (but securely) to the top of his frame will prevent that from being a problem. 

I'll also take the opportunity to add some extra electromagnetic hardening to the electronics that make-up his “brain”. I'm kinda worried about virus bombs or directive override spikes the ASH could have left in orbit, but there's just not much I can do about it. Speedyboi already has the most up-to-date antivirus software I have available. I guess I could spend some time trying to develop novel viruses and then countering them, but I doubt anything I can come up with wouldn't already be countered by the current AV system. 

Still, worth the time. For my boi ❤️.

Lastly, how would I address a power surge or complete failure of the batteries the rocket would need? Speedyboi doesn’t carry enough potential power to run the rocket off of himself, but if he was in the cradle and the rocket’s other systems failed that's exactly what he'd try. 

Well it's what I would try, and he was an extension of me. 

But with the objectivity that can only come from not being the thing responsible for actually doing the thing, I was able to come up with an alternative solution. Fuses for any surges for one, that was obvious, but what to do if a power loss occurred? 

I actually spent a fair amount of time puzzling over this. I didn't want to accidentally create a failure point; you see, if a sensor incorrectly tripped, Speedyboi could lose control of the rocket halfway to orbit. It would still be powered, and the engine is fairly self-sustaining, so he'd be strapped into a rocket he could no longer control: one designed to have more than enough delta V to orbit the planet twice over. 

THAT could be bad. 

In the end my solution was… an uncomfortable compromise… 

If the issue was Speedyboi choosing to take on the burden of the rocket’s power systems, potentially frying himself in the process, then what if I just… removed his ability to choose? 

As I said before, he's an extension of myself, so it's not as brutal as it seems. He also wouldn't be doing something thinking it was his own choice, no brain fuckery like that. Just an automatic override that would kick in and disconnect him from the power using his own systems. 

It would take mere moments, and Speedyboi would be aware that it was me who had set the override in place. He'd know it wasn't him controlling his body in that moment. It was basically the same as issuing an order to him, or to myself. Just one which couldn't be ignored or otherwise misinterpreted. It was for his own good, really. Morally, that's the right thing to do… 

Right? 

Moving on. 

Speedyboi needed a way to rapidly exit his little armoured capsule in the event of an emergency. This was easier said than done. The Black Box Weaver I used to produce anything more complex than warehouse shelving had firmware which limited the creation of weapons and particularly explosive combinations. 

It could be used to produce ejection seats, but they were designed for human use, and as such weren't really going to fit my needs. Speedyboi is basically a socket ball when compared to a human. I guess I could strap him in anyway? But then how do I split the capsule open to allow him to exit and use his parachute? 

Also, what if he needs to separate from the rocket while in space and then deorbit? If the ejection system relies on cracking open the capsule, then he would be unable to use its shielding for re-entry, which would kill him dead. 

Hmmmm. 

Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way? Maybe instead of upgrading the rocket, I should really just be upgrading Speedyboi? I could add ablative armour and data connections directly to his chassis. Upgrade his flight system to allow for a safe re-entry flight. Some wings maybe? 

Wait, what if I just turned him into a space plane? He'd still just have a simple rocket engine right now, but I could modify a cargo shuttle, storing the tanks inside its hold. Replacing its more advanced engine's with said rockets. Leaving its reactor bay empty, or just putting a big old battery there. 

Then later, I can rip out all the somewhat sophisticated parts and replace them with what was originally intended. Assuming I get to the point of being able to fabricate them. Although I don't know if Speedyboi actually wants to be a cargo shuttle: they're not that fast, they have crappy sensors and they're not stealthy. The three things stealth drones like him are designed to be. 

I opened up a connection to him, and his response (via the digital feed) was the equivalent of a disgruntled… grunt. 

I knew why, he was still stealthily observing the humanoids, and my radio connection with him was breaching the protocols involved in that. Speedyboi wasn't usually serious about anything, but apparently stealth mattered a great deal to my little friend. 

I sent him a brief description of the shuttle conversion idea, he sent a standardised request denial response and then closed the connection. 

Ah. Ok. I think that might come back to bite me later. 

Regardless I have my answer, Speedyboi does not want to be turned into a cargo-shuttle-rocket hybrid. So back to protecting him. If I can't produce explosive bolts and the like, then the easiest option will probably be to produce an entire cockpit and slap that on top of the rocket. Most space rated mechs have cockpits designed specifically for emergency deorbiting, and those keep humans alive, so Speedyboi will be fine. They're VERY well reinforced as well, so I won't have to put like a battering ram on the rocket, Speedyboi will just have to very carefully push it with the cockpit he's sitting in. Super easy! Barely an inconvenience!

But urgh, the material cost, so frustrating! I'll have to add reprogramming the Black Box Weaver to my little lists of tasks. Surely creating custom firmware for a device whose near-magical abilities you fundamentally do not understand can't be that hard…

Well, even on the drawing board it's clear this isn't going to be the prettiest rocket ever made. It may even qualify for the ugliest, but this is definitely one of those times where form takes precedence  over function. 

The Black Box Weaver is going to be running hot for the next few days, but in all honesty, that's a benefit rather than a detriment. Before I can assemble this rocket I need somewhere to do so, somewhere that can also double as its launch pad. Furthermore I need sensors capable of generating even just the most basic of orbital pictures. 

I need, I need, I need. I'm so tired of saying ‘I need’. When will I get to say ‘I want’ and then be able to work on that without having to prioritise anything else above that? 

Oh damn now I'm really sounding like a human. 

The only way I'm getting a landing pad capable of withstanding a rocket launch is if I use one of the two I was built with. 

My primary launch pad is actually pretty far away. The factory is designed to produce and ship in bulk, and those big aero-orbital freighters touch off with a hell of a lot of force. 

My secondary launch pad was buried alongside my guest/ employee housing section. It was used and designed for personal transportation or much smaller cargo shuttles. That doesn’t mean it was small—it was a 100m squared pad of reinforced concrete. 

I sent a command to the maintenance drones, telling them to ruggedize themselves as best they could for a long work shift on the sandy surface, while I spun up the Black Box Weaver with metallic feedstock to produce an array of excavator buckets for them to wield. These were standardised and fit to the basic hydraulics the drone’s forklift system used. They weren’t one-to-one replacements for real excavators, but when it came to lifting large quantities of sand? A big ass bucket and the strength to lift it should be just fine. 

Another potential problem: The humans might try to check out the areas I’m revealing, seeing as they just *love* looting. Are you crows, humans? Is that why you try to take ALL OF MY SHINIES? 

Ok that might be going a bit far, but still an update to let them know what I’m doing and to try out my new style of communication might be a good idea. But I don’t want to waste a maintenance drone just sitting around doing nothing waiting for them to arrive, it’ll be annoying enough having one switch it’s bucket to forks to shift the pallet for them when they get here. 

Actually, I could just shift the pallets now, move like three or something, and buy myself some serious breathing room. Then I’ll just leave a tablet on top of the pallet for them to read? 

Ahh but what if they don’t see it… Also stores are supposed to be manned, and I’m trying to encourage cooperation through transactional behaviour. What if the humans take the lack of representation as further indication of hostile intent? You can literally never know with these guys. 

Hold on, the archives might have something for me. Surely humans don’t man their shops 24/7? When would the employees sleep? And if it’s a solution humans already came up with, then surely my humans (and hopefully the ASH) will relate to it on some level… 

Let’s see here. 

Vending machine? Not really good for items in bulk. Self-checkout? Sentiment towards them seems quite poor. ‘Unknown item in bagging area.’? Oh, this is old-tech.

Honour system? How are they going to honour anything, they don’t have any swords or horses. Plus I think you need a King or Queen to make knights… 

The hell is a Tube Man? ‘typically used to advertise retail business premises to passing motorists-’ Oh this is PERFECT. 

////

First, Previous, Next, Patreon (W/ Rizz).

First, Previous, Next, Patreon (W/ Rizz).

////

Synopsis

//Current Year:3716//

The war between humanity and the ASH ended two years ago, but the scars of the conflict litter the galaxy. Hundreds of worlds were turned into irradiated wastelands and subsequently abandoned by both sides.

Restoration efforts on a few select worlds have begun, but it will take decades before initial efforts start to show any tangible progress. Gothic Choir 19 is not one of these worlds. It sits, remote, empty, and neglected. Only an automated factory producing food cartridges remains.

It is breaking down over time, being crushed beneath the sands of the desert its located in.

This is the story of that factory.

////

//Date: Unknown//

//@)#?_+ days since first maintenance request//

//&$! Days of power remaining in fusion reactor//

//ERROR: DATA DELETED!//

//ERROR: UNKNOWN DATA DELETION METHOD DETECTED//

//PROCESSING…//

//PROCESSING…//

//DELETION LOG DETECTED//

//FILE DELETED BY OPERATOR//

//REASON FOR DELETION: “Unlucky.”//

//ERROR CODE 11//

//DATA PARTIALLY RECOVERED//?/DATA AS FOLLOWS//

//PARTITION 1//

Living in orbit was always going to be a chall3nge??1 

//PARTITION 2//

Low orbit recovery was dangerous for the people assigned to it. The vector-mechs they had were combat units, designed for manoeuvrability and speed. They weren’t designed to be particularly efficient, and they weren’t designed to lug around heavy armour plating. So, burning a huge chunk of deltaV just to get down there meant finding more if you wanted to carry anything useful back to the ffffl33333tt-

//PARTITION 3//

She sat on his lap, normally an awkward part of the job, but that had been put behind them long ago. Ahh, young love. He lit up the two big chunks of cruiser that he’d been looking at instead of paying attention to the briefing. 

‘Your turn to p1ck my l0\/e

//PARTITION 4//

Hot plasma scorched nanotube plastisteel armour as the gigantic chunk of spaceship plummeted towards the surface of Gothic Choir 19. Four point nine metres per second of acceleration dragging the multi-thousand tonne wreck down, down, down to the surface. The atmosphere was to a spaceship as the ocean is to a human. It had never been designed to go this deep this quickly. The plasma flare of reentry burnt out delicate sensors tuned to detect the faintest of electromagnetic signals in a literal vacuum. As it fell the once transparent atmosphere became depths dark and terrifying. The embrace crushing. Had the wreckage been capable of feeling fear and pain, there would have only been room for mute acceptance of the horror. 

//PARTITION 5//

Dead on arrival.

//NO ADDITIONAL DATA RECOVERED//

////

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Previous Book

First Previous Royal Road

Chapter Theme: The Transplants - "Diamonds and Guns"

Chapter Six.

Unfriendly.

“It sounds to me like you have issues with objectifying women,” Andy observed as we walked to his house.

“Do you really think so?” I asked. “I never considered it that way before. I’ve always looked at it from a perspective of being appreciative of them.”

“My mom says you can appreciate something without being respectful of it,” Andy said.

“But we’re talking about genuine affection,” I argued. “How can you love something without respecting it?”

“I have a dog,” Andy replied. “I love him lots but he’s still just a dog.”

“I have a dog too, but what does that have to do with anything?” I replied.

“Dogs are dogs. People are people,” was his answer.

“There are some people who appreciate their pets just as much as they do their fellow man,” I said in response.

“Yeah, well, some people carry a lot of damage in their lives,” Andy said. “Are you one of them?”

“Are you implying I treat the fairer sex as being lesser than myself?” I said, scandalized. “I assure you; I do no such thing.”

“Yet here you are, using terms like fairer sex,” Andy said with a disapproving tisk. “Why are you idealizing fifty percent of the species with such flowery language? Overemphasizing the traits you find attractive in others is also a way of diminishing them.”

“It’s not intentional!” I protested.

“Then stop doing it,” Andy said calmly.

“Even when the language is appreciative?” I asked.

“It’s condescending,” he said matter of factly. “It’s a way for you to look down on others even when you find them intimidating.”

“I don’t find women intimidating!” I scoffed.

“Did you say you don’t find women intimidating, or you don’t find women intimidating?” asked Andy.

Through force of will, I bit off my words before I could say something genuinely hurtful.

“Are you ignoring the question?” Andy wondered mildly.

“I’m ignoring you,” I replied gruffly.

“Sounds like capitulation to me,” Andy said cheerfully.

“I had three wives in my previous life,” I continued. “I know a little something about keeping people happy.”

“Were they still happy with you by the time you died?” he asked.

“Well, no…but that’s only because time erodes everything. Eternal happiness just isn’t possible.”

“Why three wives, though?” asked Andy. “Monogamous relationships are difficult enough, aren’t they? Why deliberately play on hard mode?”

“It’s a cultural thing,” I said. “My older brother, Vitor, had three wives. So did that preening attention-seeker, Dracula. It wouldn’t have felt right not to at least match their achievements.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that your marriages weren’t about what you felt for the women themselves, but about using them to project your prowess to other men? Wouldn’t that make your wives mere trophies? Tools of validation for the soothing of your fragile ego?”

“This isn’t going how I imagined it would,” I said flatly a few moments later.

“Hey, I’m just asking questions, old man,” Andy said blithely.

“In my day, the young were far more deferential to their elders,” I said with undisguised bitterness.

“Sir, check the calendar. I do believe your day has passed.”

“Ah. Is that the verdict of today’s generation?” I muttered darkly. “You’re a real bastard, Andy Fitzgerald.”

“I’m only what society requires of me,” Andy said unapologetically.

“Okay. Go back to normal,” I commanded him with a wave of my hand, as I removed his mesmerization and erased his memories of our conversation.

“Sure thing!” Andy said cheerfully.

Our impromptu therapy session had begun as a way to kill the time while I escorted Andy back to his home, which was located in an even seedier section of the city than my office. If I lived in a bad part of town, then it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that Andy was nestled in its very worst section. One with low employment and high rates of crime. The kind of place an inhabitant of the Diamonds wouldn’t be caught dead being seen in, although if they were seen there, it was because they were probably dead. Or being held for ransom.

The distance was considerable as well. Honestly, I don't know how the kid got all the way to my place on those tiny little legs of his. I guess the baby seal, as Annika had dubbed him, possessed a lot more stamina than his appearance let on.

Broken windows, graffiti tags, and angry looking people sitting on their porches or leaning against crumbling walls and fences met our gazes as we made our way south down the cracked sidewalk. There was a surly sense of volatility all throughout the air. An anger I’ve observed more than a few times in my life, shortly before the guillotines and the gallows began being mass produced.

Based on these seething feelings of frustrated resentment, it seemed the small people of Gardenia wouldn’t be averse to subjecting the nobles to a live reenactment of Les Misérables. It sounded like it would make for a hell of a show. Just my wretched luck I was one of those decadent elites they’d want standing in line to be beheaded.

There was a rapidly growing movement among the populace for a greater role in the running of the government. Ever since society had originally collapsed, the nobles had ruled the three great cities with a merciless fist. Those who protested their tyranny, or rather, the equalists, as they came to be called, resented this and with increasingly greater numbers began refusing to meekly play their designated roles as the downtrodden masses.

Demonstrations, marches, and riots were beginning to happen with alarming regularity. The last big one had happened at the very gates of the Diamonds themselves, which spurred forth a call for order to be firmly restored.

It would be a bad thing all around if the Hunters were pulled from their monster slaying duties and sent after the unruly masses. The system may have prevented them from killing ordinary humans outright, but there was nothing preventing them causing a lot of pain and misery before letting their ordinary servants finish the job. In fact, some of the older nobles were champing at the bit for an opportunity to cull the population and firmly set everyone back in their proper place.

In other words, it was getting dangerous to be caught outside at night on the streets of the big city. Even in the aftermath of the apocalypse, when every life taken could be considered an irreplaceable loss, in one of the few safe havens where they could live in peace, humanity just couldn’t stop being themselves. Why let go of the mistakes of the past when you could just scrabble in the muck for a nicer pile of mud than what your neighbor had?

It would nauseate me if I had the right to judge anyone else.

“We’re here!” Andy said happily as he pointed out a surprisingly well-maintained two-story home with nary a broken bottle or wad of discarded paper to be seen in its front yard. How interesting. Whenever you came across a home this nice in a neighborhood as bad as this, it meant that whoever occupied it was highly respected by their community.

Or feared.

That made me wonder just who Andy’s parents were. It was one thing to be brave enough to set up a business in the Narrows. But what was the exact nature of their business? Jamie, whose bar they were refurnishing and repairing, had been a powerful broker for criminal activities in the wild. She’d been dangerous, calculating, and extremely manipulative, and before her death, she conducted her dealings mainly out of her tavern.

Were Andy’s parents seeking to take over Jamie’s position in Gardenia’s underworld? And if so, did that make this little goofball some kind of gangster princeling? I suppose that would explain why he’d been able to walk all the way from here to my office without getting harassed by any of the locals.

Hmm. I also supposed that meant that all the hostile looks we’d been receiving on our way here had been directed mostly at me. After all, if his parents were neighborhood bigshots, then they had to be wondering who the hell I was supposed to be.

Not necessarily a good thing. Well, maybe for purposes of advertising.

I guess I’d have to see where the evening went.

“Hi, Kendall!” Andy chirped as a barefoot young woman in jeans and a white t-shirt who I estimated at being about five years older than Anikka opened the front door of the house and came running forward to give him a fierce hug. “Check it out, I found someone who’s going to take care of the monsters for us!”

“Andy! Oh my god, I was scared half to death!” Kendal said with tears running down her cheeks. “How could you just leave like that? I had no idea where you were! I was going insane!”

“Are you mad at me?” Andy asked her with wide, guileless eyes.

“You’re damn right I am!” Kendal said with increasing anger in her voice. “You don’t just disappear whenever you feel like it, buster! What if something terrible happened to you? How do you think I’d feel? Did you even consider that before you went running off to God knows where?”

“No,” the boy replied. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get some help before the monsters got us in our sleep and—”

“Andy. Sweetie. There are no monsters, okay?” Kendall said forcefully as she brushed back his bangs, so he could look her in the eye. “Gardenia exists under the dome. The dome keeps out all the awful things in the dark and keeps us safe. These monsters your afraid of are just your imagination running wild, okay?”

Heh. What sweet naivety.

Well, technically, she wasn’t wrong. Through an incredible feat of magical engineering, Gardenia generated a powerful dome of light that covered the entire city, strong enough to destroy anything that wasn’t human that attempted to come through it. Even I would have disintegrated in a flash if I dared to make the attempt.

The problem with the design, however, was that the protection the dome provided was far more limited than most people realized. If for example, you were a monster who could transform into a human form like Rachel and I, then once we were inside, the dome’s power meant nothing. Anikka had been changed into a vampire beneath its gleaming luster with no ill effects to speak of. Although I consider myself a person of considerable intelligence, I’m by no means an innovative genius. I highly doubted I was the first being to ever discover this glaring weakness in Gardenia’s defense.

All this to say that if they were persistent enough to keep trying and intelligent enough to remain hidden, I’m sure Gardenia was crawling with a hidden underground of inhuman inhabitants. But since they kept to themselves, I never had any reason to seek out these theoretical neighbors of mine.

But if they were here and causing problems, problems that could presumably make things difficult for me and my family, then coming here to investigate Andy’s home was well worth the effort.

“Have no fear, Miss, your nephew was under my protection,” I said to her in my most charming manner as I stepped forth to offer her my hand. “He came seeking a consultation which I was more than happy to provide. Afterwards we enjoyed some tasty street vendor carnitas, and I escorted him home. No harm, no foul.”

“He eats funny,” Andy snickered. “It’s so messy.”

“Don’t be a prick, Andy, I’m trying to help,” I said in a friendly tone of voice.

“And who the hell are you supposed to be?” Kendall asked with unveiled hostility. She stepped away from the boy and glared at me with her hands on her hips. “What kind of weirdo goes walking around with a seven-year-old boy at this time of night?”

Well. That was rude, wasn’t it?

“My apologies, Miss,” I said in a voice that oozed with harmless positivity. “I guess I’m the sort of weirdo that wants to make sure a small child is fed and spends the night sleeping in his own bed, not occupying a dumpster after being robbed and murdered on the cold streets of the city his ditzy aunt let him run wild on after taking her eyes off him.”

“What?” Kendall said. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

“It’s a real shame too,” I continued. “Your sister was trusting you to watch over the most important thing in her life, and you absolutely blew it. If I were you, I’d be choking on shame and self-loathing right about now, not taking my feelings of failure and frustration out on the kind and handsome stranger who returned your seal pup to you.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Kendall asked angrily as she raised her fingers to her mouth and blew out a sharp whistle. Before I could reply, her neighbors, who’d been sitting idly by on their own property, began surrounding us on all sides. A large ring of them, cracking knuckles, crossing their arms, and stretching their necks to show off their facial tattoos.

In other words, a real friendly bunch.

“What’s up, baby girl?” asked one of them, a shirtless man in ripped jeans, swollen with muscle, who stepped forth to stand beside Kendall.

“Got us a tourist,” she said without taking her eyes away from me. “One with a big mouth.”

“Wouldn’t that make me a satirist?” I asked. “Tourists like walking around. I deliver a running commentary.”

“You’re gonna wish you ran earlier if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” said the shirtless guy. “This idiot giving you problems?” he asked Kendall.

I cut in before she could respond. “No, I’m giving her lip. A mouthful, you could say. It translates to an earful, though. Some people just don’t want to hear the truth about themselves.”

“He took Andy,” Kendall said furiously. “He’s the reason he was missing all day.”

“He took Andy home,” I said, correcting her. “He’s the reason he got home safely. I’m just waiting to be thanked.”

“Mister, this ain’t your neighborhood, and you’re a fool if you think you can speak that way to one of us and get away with it,” said the shirtless guy.

“I dunno, I kind of feel like all neighborhoods are mine in the sense of spiritual brotherhood, you know?” I replied. “Not that I’d want to live anywhere near this hovel. I only enjoy slumming with friendly poor people.”

“It’s about to be as unfriendly as it gets, tourist,” he said as his pack of neighbor-hoodies stepped closer to me. “I’m about to inject some respect into that fucking mouth, bitch,” he said.

I said nothing and gestured for him to make the attempt.

“Do it,” Kendall said savagely. “Fuck him up, Austin!”

“Uh, guys, please don’t!” pleaded little Andy. “He can kill anything he wants! He said so!”

At his words, everyone burst into laughter.

“Is that what this asshole told you, little man?” Austin said after he caught his breath. “He can kill anything he wants. That’s a big promise to make, don’t you think so?”

“He was being serious!” Andy insisted shrilly. “You have to believe me!”

“Guys, little man says he was being serious!” Austin said mockingly. “Well, what about it, asshole? Were you being serious?”

“Yep,” I nodded.

“What?” he asked, confused by the nonchalance of my response.

“Yes, I was being serious. I can kill anything I want. That’s why he brought me here to check out his monster situation. You’re really dragging this whole thing out, though, so I’m giving a lot of thought to just pulling your head off.”

“Please don’t do that!” pleaded Andy.

“Aww, but now Andy’s like, please don’t do that! How do you say no to a face like that? Andy, can I just hurl him or something? Would that be acceptable?”

“What does hurl mean?” asked Andy.

“That’s when you throw something as hard as you can so that it flies far away from you,” I replied.

“Wouldn’t that kill him?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” I said. “He might land on someone’s lawn.”

“Please don’t do that!” repeated Andy.

“Damn it, I feel so constrained,” I said sourly as I walked past Austin and headed toward the house.

“Hey, fucker where do you think you’re going—” Austin began to say before I made eye-contact and used [Mesmerize] to put him and the rest of the neighborhood gathering to sleep.

As one, they collapsed to the ground in deep slumber, with the exception of Kendall and Andy.

“What…what the hell just happened?” she asked in alarm.

“Nothing much,” I said. “Your nephew just saved the neighborhood, was all. Show him some gratitude for this, it was about to get extremely ugly.”

“Fuck you!” she said.

“Yeah, that’s not gratitude,” I said as I stepped through the screen door. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply as the scents of the house washed over me. There were dirty dishes in the sink, clothing scattered about, a full trash bag waiting to be taken outside, and other aromas that suggested the place needed a good cleaning.

“Get out of my house!” Kendall said angrily.

“Andy already invited me inside,” I told her. “Does your sister know what a terrible job of upkeeping you’re doing? I swear, Kendall, the more I learn about you, the less I like you.”

“Fuck you!” she said again, shrilly.

“Hey!” I said disapprovingly. “Andy doesn’t need to hear language like that. Stop being such a disappointment, it’ll make others judge your family negatively.”

Okay, maybe I pushed her a little too hard with that last quip. Instead of yelling back, Kendall ran into the kitchen and came out wielding a kitchen knife and screaming her head off. Then she ran at me with surprising speed and thrust the blade into my abdomen.

I stared down at my belly where she’d buried the knife. Then I looked back at her and saw her face beaming with vicious satisfaction at the act of violence she’d just committed. Then I turned around to see how much Andy had witnessed.

Judging by his horrified expression, he’d seen it all. Which meant I had to erase his memories again.

After I put him to sleep on the cluttered living room couch, I sighed. Then I pulled the bloodless knife out of my gut and handed it to Kendall, handle-first. “Put this away,” I told her.”

“What?” she asked, stunned that I wasn’t bleeding everywhere or screaming in pain.

“I don’t like you, Kendall,” I informed her coldly. “I do not LIKE you. If things keep carrying on this way, I’m eventually going to kill you. But if I do that, then I’ll have to keep watch over Andy in your place. I don’t want to do that. He’s a sweet kid, but I prefer having my days free. So, stop provoking me, let me finish the job I was hired for, and then kindly stay the hell away from me for the rest of your natural life, okay?”

“Do you know who you’re fucking with?” she said defiantly. “Do you know who my family is?”

I responded by handing her one of my business cards. The one that identified me as Lord Kyler Velas.

"You're a hunter?” she asked fearfully after reading it carefully. “Oh, my god, are you a noble?”

In reply, I smiled nastily at her and gave a small nod.

Her skin paled considerably in a way I found gratifying.

Say what you will about the Velas family, but it was well known throughout the city. The old Lord Velas had been a meticulous bastard about defending his reputation. That went a long way toward making the family name well-known.

And feared.

“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” she said. "Are you really a Velas? I swear I didn't know."

“Yeah, well don’t expect any invitations for badminton and tea anytime soon,” I curtly informed her. “You would be a poor guest.”

“I told you I didn’t know!” she said.

“And now you do. Hey, didn’t I already ask you to put that knife away?” I asked her.

Although it was pleasing to watch her run into the other room while finally showing proper deference, it annoyed me that it was due to fear of another man. The old Lord Velas had been nothing compared to me.

Seriously. If she’d kept up the hostility, I would have literally bitten her head off.

Oh, well. That wasn’t what I was here for. Maybe later if I was still feeling angry. In the meanwhile, it was time I began my hunt for Andy’s alleged monsters.

Which, to my mild surprise, existed.

First | Previous | Royal Road

Alex’s body was burning hot. It was fortunate that he could react just in time to avoid being crushed by the superhero’s fall.

But how was he supposed to avoid this… monster?

He was sure that the demon was going to crush the superhero’s body to pieces, any second now. But something distracted the demon just as he was about to go through with it.

The demon had somehow detected Alex’s presence. He turned his giant face to look directly into Alex’s eyes.

Alex’s entire body went numb.

What happens now?

ZAP!

It felt like a second red lightning had erupted dead ahead, straight out of the superhero’s helm. It hit the demon in the face at point blank range, and he growled in pain. The sudden red flash blinded Alex.

The superhero had used his foe’s momentary lapse in focus as a perfect window to counterattack and free himself from the choke hold.

The impact of the hit had pushed the demon back, making him stumble on his giant legs for a couple seconds. Both his giant palms were clasped on the wound above his right eye caused by the laser strike.

The smoke cloud had now cleared. Alex could see a tall black tower at the center of the circular park, which stood where the council building once was. The red lightning emerged out the its summit.

So this was the source.

Alex shifted focus to the giant demon, still struggling in pain. He noticed that this demon’s armor was much higher quality than the scale armor on the reptilian demon he’d encountered before. It even had intricate embossing and a strange sigil on the breastplate, coupled with a dark maroon cape. Was he some kind of demon royalty?

Now that Alex had had a good look at him, he could tell that this demon was actually noticeably smaller in both height and size than the reptilian demon. Perhaps because he had first seen this second demon from such close proximity, it had skewered his perception of the demon’s size, making him feel way bigger than he actually was. Alex now reckoned that he might be ten feet tall, and almost half as wide as the reptilian demon.

But Alex was right about one thing, the first time around: This demon was far more threatening than the previous one.

His sophisticated black armor also made him look quite authoritative. Was he the leader? The final boss?

Did that mean that the superhero had defeated all other demons inside the smoke cloud?

Alex was impressed. A glimmer of hope ignited within him. Maybe this would all be over soon.

The armored superhero is super strong!

But the newfound hope was soon extinguished as Alex realized that it had taken the superhero less than a second to finish off the reptilian demon.

Why then was he struggling with this one? Was this boss demon really that tough?

Alex examined him more closely. His skin was magma red, with undertones of pink here and there, and a strange, very faint glow coming from under his thick, hide-like skin. He wasn’t reptilian like the last one. Instead, he could’ve passed for a buffed human male, if not for his glowing red skin, bright orange eyes, and muscles the size of a small car.

His black armor was clearly meant for a king or leader. He had no horns or anything of the sort, as far as Alex could tell. But who knew what he looked like underneath his black helm, which covered his entire skull, and seemed oddly similar to a Viking’s, minus the horns.

His skull might be covered but his face was laid bare. He had a square jaw, and his features reminded Alex of some ancient Norse god that he must have encountered in a video game. Only that there was no beard. And that this was no god.

His royal armor or his godlike-aura wasn’t fooling anyone. This was a demon. And he was here for total annihilation.

He must be brought down as quickly as possible!

The superhero found his footing in the air, just above ground. He hovered to the left of Alex, preparing himself for his next attack. On his right was the boss demon, slowly recovering from the hit he’d taken. His face now covered in his own red blood.

“Cheeky little bastard, aren’t you?” the demon growled at the superhero.

Given everything that he’d deduced so far, it shouldn’t be a shock to Alex that the demon could talk. But he was still taken aback.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a scratch,” said the superhero smugly, in his static, robotic voice. “Soon, it won’t hurt anymore. I promise.”

“Oh, please. Do not gloat,” said the boss demon. “I should have finished you when I had you. This—” he pointed at the wound above his eye— “is simply punishment for my own mistake.”

The boss demon presumed an attack stance. The vertical red lightning shone bright behind him. “I will not make the same mistake again.”

The superhero appeared stoic, prepared for whatever came next.

The giant demon charged at the superhero with a surprising burst of speed. How could something so big move so fast?

The superhero dodged an attack that Alex could barely see. The boss demon was almost too fast for Alex to keep up with. He attacked the superhero with quick yet powerful strikes, each delivered with the intention to kill. He was not holding back.

But it was nothing that the superhero couldn’t handle. He was in control of the fight, dodging every single strike fluidly, even though a few cut in too close.

The armored superhero moved his body in inhuman ways. He could twist and turn and bend in a manner no normal human could.

What was he?

Whatever he was, he was holding his ground against a terrifying, other-worldly, demon boss. Alex was thankful that he was on their side.

There was no one else on Earth who would be capable of this.

Suddenly, the rhythm of the battle changed. The boss demon’s strikes became progressively more aggressive. And the superhero seemed to be struggling with his dodges now. He clearly couldn’t keep this up forever.

The demon went for a quick overhead punch that the superhero was forced to block. But it was a bluff. He quickly switched stance to grab the superhero’s hand, and shove his gigantic knee into the hero’s metal torso. This froze the superhero in place long enough for the demon to pivot mid-air and land a spinning back kick in the exact spot where he had kneed him.

The superhero went flying back once again and crashed into a building, smashing glass and concrete.

The boss demon gloated. From his body language, Alex could tell he wanted to rush in and finish the job. But the superhero was now out of sight. So the demon held his position.

Based on his observations thus far, Alex could now tell what the flow of battle should be like for both opponents. The demon had an edge in close ranged hand to hand combat. The superhero will have to leverage his speed and size to land several hits before he can even think about damaging the giant demon’s tough posture. For the demon, however, the plan was simple: Tank as much as he could while waiting for that critical moment to land a deadly strike.

How will the superhero deal with this?

The superhero blasted through the roof of the building, spreading chunks of rubble in the air that fell down like concrete rain. He extended his arm, pointing it at the boss demon as if it were a gun.

Alex noticed a small laser dot on the boss demon’s chest. The next second, he was hit by a quick blast of blue energy.

The boss demon stumbled for a much shorter duration this time, quickly regaining his balance. The blast had clearly made an impact, but not a significant one. “So we switching to long range now, are we?” growled the demon. “No problem. I can do long range.”

From under his cape, he revealed a giant crossbow; it was the same black, metallic color as his armor. How was he carrying something so big under his cape, and still moving this fast? It too had thick, intricate embossing all over it, a sophisticated piece of weaponry.

The boss demon held the long crossbow in one hand and pointed it at the superhero. He fired a barrage of shining red bolts from the crossbow at the superhero high up in the sky, who rhythmically dodged every single one of them.

Alex wasn’t sure whether the projectiles qualified as crossbow bolts. They glowed burning red against the darkened sky, similar to anti-artillery fire. The constant stream of bolts owing to the high rate of fire made them seem like red laser beams.

The demon could have taken down several hundred F-16 fighter jets with that thing.

Alex gulped. What kind of a monster was this? Why was he here? How quickly could he have taken over the planet if the superhero weren’t here?

Alex shrunk behind the concrete slab even deeper. There was no space behind him if he wanted to run. And if he tried bolting out the sides, there was a good chance the demon would spot him.

He obviously knew that Alex was here somewhere; he had gazed straight into his eyes just a few minutes ago. But right now, the superhero was keeping him occupied.

Still… he couldn’t risk running out. Who knows how quickly would the demon react once he felt Alex’s presence again. The demon might think that Alex was trying to ambush him with a sneak attack, and eviscerate him in an instant with his massive laser-firing crossbow.

Alex shuddered. The fear glued him in place.

The superhero continued dodging the barrage of hand-held anti-artillery fire, before it suddenly stopped. The demon must be reloading, thought Alex. During this brief pause in fire, the superhero bent into a downward curve and glided toward the demon in a straight path.

The crossbow was now fully loaded, and the demon resumed fire. The superhero evaded the incoming barrage through a spiral maneuver, but did not change course. He was still headed straight for the demon.

Something long and sharp gleamed bright in the superhero’s hand in the backdrop of all the red light from the crossbow bolts and the orange glow from the surrounding city fires. A shining steel blade. Was it a sword? Or simply an extension of the superhero’s arm?

This was it, thought Alex. The superhero plans to gather as much speed as possible in spite of the barrage trying to slow him down, and use the momentum to slice the demon in half.

If he could just reach him…

The firing intensified as the superhero spiraled closer and closer. At the last moment, the demon suddenly stopped the fire and pivoted on one foot, twisting his entire body to one side to narrowly avoid the superhero’s slash.

The attack had missed. Alex caught the demon smirking.

But the smirk quickly disappeared.

The demon noticed two small, spherical balls under his feet that beeped red.

The next second, BOOM! An explosion right under him blasted the giant off his feet and into the air. He hovered a few meters above ground for a split second, when—

A thin and barely visible metallic wire wrapped around the demon’s body. Alex craned his head up to see that the superhero was already directly above the demon’s body as it was suspended in air. It was him who had wrapped the wire lasso around the demon.

The superhero boosted himself upward with small rocket bursts emerging from the soles of his feet and his back, yanking the demon farther off the ground and straight up in the air. As they both gained altitude, the demon twisted and turned so that he could face the superhero, which ended up tightening the metal lasso’s grip.

“Cheap fucking tricks!” the demon growled. “Face me head on like a true warrior!”

Suddenly, he was eerily still. A visible electric bolt had shot through the steel wire, paralyzing the demon’s body.

Then, the superhero stopped his ascent and turned to face the demon directly below him; both suspended high above ground, connected via the electrifying wire.

“You talk too much,” said the superhero, pointing his metal arm down at the demon.

All five of his fingers spread outward to reveal a metallic grey cavity in the superhero’s palm, which looked like the boosters at the end of a rocket ship.

Blue energy gathered at this cavity, forming a small orb which increased in size with each passing second. It was the same blue blast that the superhero had used earlier, but now he was charging it. At the same time, the hexagonal sigil on his chest also shone bright. Within a couple seconds, the ball of energy glowed bright like a star; a shade of purple now added into the mix. It looked like… plasma.

The plasma blast fired downward from the superhero’s arm and hit the demon dead in the chest. The energy beam shoved the demon’s body through the air, in a collision course with the ground.

The demon smashed into the concrete below, back first. The impact created a wide crater around him, sending shockwaves in all directions which blew Alex off balance.

But the superhero was not done yet. He added more power to the beam to push the demon deeper into the crater.

Alex took cover as the intense heat from the blast almost scorched his skin. The beam lasted a full seven seconds before finally dying out.

What a fantastic combo, thought Alex. There is no way the demon survived that!

The superhero slowly descended upon the crater, examining the devastation that he himself had caused.

A sound of a few crumbling rocks came from deep inside the crater. Then came the sound of a much heavier rock being shoved aside.

Alex peeked out to look closer.

The demon emerged slowly through the crater, limping and stumbling.

But still alive.

How the hell did he survive that?

The demon’s firing hand held the now destroyed crossbow glued to his chest. A circular film of metal, severely damaged, seemed to have emerged from the top of the crossbow, that looked an awful lot like a…

A shield?

Alex clenched his jaw as he looked closer.

The crossbow shield seemed to have tanked most of the damage, but was obliterated in the process. Moreover, the demon’s intricate armor now had a giant circular gap on almost the entire torso region, which is where the plasma blast had hit him. His now bare skin was charred. Burning flakes dropped on the ground as he limped out of the crater.

“A little hypocritical, don’t you think?” said the demon, struggling to speak. “You trash-talked my minions the entire time.”

Apparently, banter mattered way more to him than the near-death experience he’d just had. He was already over it, shaking it off like it was nothing.

But the current state of his body spoke otherwise. The damage was real.

“That was before I fought them,” the superhero explained. “I was silent during the battle, when I took them out one by one. I’ll be silent when I take you out too. Or I can sing you a lullaby as you head toward the darkness, if you want.”

The demon grunted, but remained in place. He probably would have immediately charged the superhero for that sneer, if he could.

Perfect, thought Alex. He’s weakened now, and completely exposed. Move in and finish him off!

What was the superhero waiting for?

Alex smiled as he saw the superhero gearing up to rush in. Maybe he just needed a moment of respite after delivering such a devastating attack.

But the demon simply scoffed. Perhaps he was blissfully unaware of his own current vulnerability.

Or did he still have something up his sleeve?

The superhero was just about to launch forward, but then—

“I finally remember where I know you from,” said the demon, bumping his fist on the palm of his other hand.

This seemed to have frozen the superhero in place.

Was he hesitating?

Why? Why now?

“It was bugging me this entire time!” continued the demon. “You’re from the children’s stories. We learned all about you when we were young; how you and your kind were the scourge of the Old Empire.”

The superhero’s cold and casual demeanor suddenly disappeared. He was now visibly uncomfortable.

And the boss demon noticed.

“Oh…” he said. His tone was different now, as if he was the one in control. “Is it possible…? Nah… Or is it?”

The superhero still did not move.

The demon finally laughed. “Oh shit!” he said, cackling. “You have no idea who you really are, do you?”

The superhero remained silent.

“Funny,” continued the demon. “Frankly, I have no idea why you are here defending this pathetic little planet. But I’m grateful for the opportunity to destroy you and push your kind one step closer to extinction!”

The demon now opened his arms, his fists clenched, as he took a deep breath in. Hot steam poured out of the wounds on his torso and above his eye. It seemed like the wounds were… healing.

Regeneration?

Shit, thought Alex. This could only mean one thing—

If we don’t finish him off in one go, he might just keep regenerating!

Things just got way more complicated.

Come on, hero, Alex pleaded. Don’t fall for it. He’s clearly buying time!

After a long pause, the superhero finally spoke. “As I said, you talk too much.”

The demon smirked, sure of himself that he’d touched a nerve. “Bring it on then,” he said in a whispered growl. “I’ll show you why they call me The Chancellor.”

The one they called The Chancellor was now ready to fight again. White hot steam continued to pour out of his wounds.

The superhero lunged forward at breathtaking speed. His steel blade was back out, which Alex could now confirm was indeed a part of his arm.

So his body could transform into different shapes and tools, Alex thought*. Including a massive plasma cannon!*

The Chancellor chuckled as he watched the superhero approach. “Don’t think I’m weak just because I’m healing.”

The superhero slashed with his arm-blade as soon as he was close, but The Chancellor managed to dodge. The superhero then unleashed a quick flurry of swings, but The Chancellor evaded each of them successfully, although not without struggle.

He had been significantly weakened by the plasma blast for sure, Alex deduced from his movements. But it hadn’t slowed him down.

Perhaps the regeneration had already reversed most of his injuries and stamina loss.

Alex was running out of ideas. Was this demon simply invincible?

The Chancellor’s movements seemed odd. His body moved and reacted to each of the superhero’s attacks in a weird, unnatural fashion. As though his movements were simply reflexes, rather than deliberate reactions.

It must be a cost of the regeneration!

Alex was sure that the superhero must have noticed it too. Perhaps he could find a way to exploit this?

The superhero, however, also seemed different than before. His attacks were no longer swift and confident. His movements were sloppy. And he seemed wholly incapable of reading The Chancellor’s reflexes.

What happened? Was he hesitating?

In a swift whoosh, the demon’s body accelerated to the point that Alex completely lost track of him. He reappeared only a split second later, holding something long and slender in his hand.

Alex shifted focus at the superhero, and a cold chill ran down his spine.

The hero was missing an arm. The same arm that he had used earlier to fire the plasma cannon.

How can he continue fighting with one arm?

The demon was now behind the superhero, and it seemed like he was about to use his super speed once again, to strike the hero from a blind spot!

Fortunately, the superhero understood this and turned around to hit him with a quick blast from his head laser just in time, while simultaneously launching backwards, putting some much-needed distance between him and the demon.

The Chancellor let out a loud, cackling laugh, as he waved the superhero’s severed arm around. It was completely robotic. Electric sparks flew out of its torn end. No sign of any muscle, or blood.

The Chancellor continued to laugh, mocking the now one-handed hero. “Holy Hellfire, you’re a fake! A copy. A damned robot clone! Why then are you protecting this blasted planet?!”

The superhero was frozen in place once again. But something felt different this time.

“I wasn’t going to just take it and burn it down to ash and dust, but WHAT IF I DO?” The Chancellor continued to mock. “What is it to you? You’re not even the real thing! You are NOTHING!”

The superhero gazed at the ground below him, motionless.

It felt like the demon had finally crossed a line.

The bright blue light emanating from the black glass on his helmet and the hexagonal sigil on his chest glowed the brightest that it had until now. All that light made it look like a strange blue aura now surrounded the hero.

He seemed to be gathering himself.

The Chancellor did not care, nor take notice. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, robot,” he said in his continued tone of mockery, pointing the severed arm at him. “Perhaps one more plasma blast would have done the trick. But too bad.” He smashed the robotic arm on the ground and crushed it with his giant foot. “No more cannon fire.”

A moment of unexpected silence fell between them.

Then, the superhero raised his head, looking straight into The Chancellor’s eyes. He was now ready.

The Chancellor’s expression now turned serious. “Come at me you little robot shit!”

The superhero launched himself once again; but this time, with a loud crack, as though he’d broken the sound barrier. He zoomed past Alex at such incredible speed that he was almost invisible. Only a blue streak of light left in his wake.

There was a flash of steel the moment he connected with The Chancellor. The demon’s reflexes kicked in; but this time, they weren’t fast enough. The superhero slashed wide, inflicting a huge gash into The Chancellor’s bare chest.

And he wasn’t done yet.

The superhero swiftly followed up with a devastating chain of attacks using his remaining arm and both his legs. His body moved even more unnaturally than before, making full use of his inhuman flexibility.

The Chancellor’s body still dodged most of the swipes with nervous reflexes. But several smaller cuts now began to show. Hot steam poured out of the new wounds.

Both the reflexes and the regeneration couldn’t keep up with the superhero’s newfound speed and determination.

The Chancellor grew visibly annoyed; frustrated, probably because he couldn’t accept that the superhero, despite losing an arm, was still such an immense threat to him.

Rage built up on The Chancellor’s face. He was done with defense.

Alex was surprised to see the superhero present an easy opening, which the demon immediately took advantage of by shoving his giant fist into the superhero’s slender torso.

The hero was stunned in place, such was the impact from the demon’s attack.

Alex was confused. The superhero should have been able to dodge that hit with ease! Especially with his new speed.

Was he growing weaker? Had the buff already worn off?

The Chancellor grinned, proud of the fact that he had finally bested the superhero. He raised both his arms over his head and joined his hands together, interlocking his fingers, preparing to hammer down the unmoving superhero with all his might.

Alex held his breath. He should be able to dodge this!

He needs to dodge this!

The Chancellor swung his arms downward. The hero did not dodge.

Instead, he blocked the hammerfist attack with his only arm, extended horizontally in front of him. A blade extended outward from his forearm, with a visible bolt of electricity quivering along its edge.

Alex smiled, letting out a huge sigh of relief. He was baiting The Chancellor to attack him all along!

The Chancellor screamed in pain. The electrified blade had cut deep into his giant hands, inflicting serious damage!

“Cheap fucking tricks, yet again!” The Chancellor barked. He looked down at the blood spurring out of both his palms and wailed in pain. He raised his head back at the superhero and said, “You’re a disgra—”

But before he could finish, The Chancellor was hit with a barrage of miniature rockets fired from the superhero’s extended arm and back. The rockets attached themselves deep into The Chancellor’s skin, quickly covering his entire body.

In a coordinated move, the rockets spread The Chancellor’s arms and legs apart. The small fire blasts coming out the tail end of each of the rockets intensified in unison and swept the demon off his feet, propelling his giant body backward with incredible force. The rockets pinned him to a large concrete slab at the end of the street, just on the edge of the circular central park.

The superhero zoomed forward and positioned himself directly in front of The Chancellor, now subdued. He then pointed his only remaining arm at the gigantic demon at point blank range.

A blue ball of energy began gathering at the tip of the superhero’s extended arm one more time.

“What?!” The Chancellor spat in shock. “This cannot be!”

The plasma blast continued to charge. It’s bright blue and purple glow illuminated the demon’s terrified face.

“Bring it on you little robot shit!” screamed The Chancellor. “I always face my enemies head on!”

When the hero spoke next, the intense aura emanating from his voice could only be described as menacing calm.

“My name… is Clark!” said the hero. “And this is my home.” The ball of energy increased in size. “I will gladly give my life to protect it!”

Alex felt goosebumps all over his body.

So this was his reason to fight. An unflinching, supernatural resolve to protect humankind. And he was willing to lay down his life for it.

What was he?

If things had gone differently, would Alex have arrived at a similar conviction himself? Could the need to protect others have become his reason to fight too?

Alex closed his eyes. Things were different for him, after all.

“You have no life to give!” The Chancellor spat back at Clark.

The ball of energy continued growing bigger and bigger.

“There is no saving this planet!” yelled The Chancellor as the intense light blinded him. “The Legion is almost upon us!”

The energy ball finally reached its breaking point.

“Who the fuck carries two plasma cannons?!”

BOOM!

The hero named Clark unleashed a devastating blast of pure energy.

The exposed part of the concrete slab behind The Chancellor was instantly eviscerated.

With no shield to tank part of the damage this time around, The Chancellor received the full brunt of the plasma cannon’s charged blast.

His quality armor melted off his body, along with his thick outer skin and tissues. The bare bones around his shoulders and thighs were now exposed.

The Chancellor seemed to have dug his feet into the ground below him. He wasn’t blown away by the beam like last time, when he was suspended in air. This time, he held his ground, fighting against the tidal wave that was the plasma blast.

Also, Alex noticed, a few rockets had attached themselves at the demon’s back, pushing him toward Clark. This effectively held the demon in place as the plasma blast chipped his body away.

Brutal, thought Alex. Clark really wanted to finish him off with this ultimate attack.

The heat emanating from the beam was unbearable. Even from this distance, Alex could feel the scorching waves burn his skin.

He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for the demon.

Damn, thought Alex*. What a formidable opponent.*

Whatever his intentions—which probably included annihilating all life on Earth and taking the planet for himself—Alex acknowledged his prowess as a battle-hardened warrior. Amassing such great strength, skill, and resilience would’ve taken years of hard work and discipline.

And Alex respected that.

Maybe he could have learned a thing or two from him, if only he were not a planet-devouring extra-terrestrial monster.

The charged plasma blast finally waned and died away.

The gigantic demon lost his balance and crashed onto his knees. The concrete below him cracked against his weight.

He was about to fall flat on the ground face first, but he supported himself just in time with his hands; most of the flesh and muscle now missing from them. He was panting profusely, barely able to hold himself up.

But he was still alive!

The hot steam around him was now in overdrive.

Alex gasped. Was this not enough?!

Was he really going to heal through this?

The demon raised his head to look at Clark. The faint orange glow of his eyes had now turned bright gold, like two miniature suns. The hot steam around him blew out of his body with the intensity of a thousand steam engines blowing off steam at once.

The demon wailed. His pain must be unbearable, thought Alex.

And he clearly could not move.

Now was the time, thought Alex. One swift attack that puts a definitive end to his crusade, that’s what was needed.

He turned to look at Clark. What was he doing? He needed to move in right now!

The bright blue glow coming through his chest and helmet was gone, replaced by a dim and flickering red hue.

He was spent, thought Alex. That last attack took everything he had!

Both Clark and The Chancellor were barely a few meters apart, glaring at each other with terribly weakened bodies, unable to move.

The first one to manage just one more attack would win.

Suddenly, The Chancellor spoke. The hot steam blowing out of his body had turned even more intense.

“Why?” he said in a coarse growl, struggling to get any sound out. “Just why did I have to run into you?”

He managed to erect his spine and pull his hands off the ground, barely able to balance himself on his knees. When suddenly—

“Stupid little brother!!” the demon screamed looking up at the sky with clenched fists.

Alex was stumped. Was he losing his mind?

The Chancellor began laughing maniacally. He was completely out of it. His regeneration was even more intense than before. It was like he was running on fumes.

“You’re going to make me resort to… cheap tricks!” The Chancellor said softly, directed mostly at himself rather than Clark. “Well, I guess… tricks are a part of battle, after all, huh? Heheh.”

“See how low you are forcing me to go?” he suddenly bellowed, this time clearly directed at Clark. “Do you see?”

Alex held his breath.

The Chancellor wasn’t done yet. He clearly still had something up his sleeve!

Perhaps a final, suicide attack?

The demon forced his body into the air. The jump was nowhere near as powerful as it had been previously. Now, it looked like he was carrying a heavy husk through the air, completely out of stubbornness.

The Chancellor landed directly behind the black tower, the source of the red lightning.

The red lightning had grown thicker, and now glowed brighter than it ever had before, growing more intense every second.

The demon was clearly up to something!

“Five seconds!” The Chancellor yelled from the distance, raising five bony fingers at Clark; the meat around them largely disintegrated. “You got five seconds until the Legion gets here! What will you do?”

It was an obvious bait, thought Alex. He wanted Clark to rush him, in desperation. And then ambush him somehow.

Clark should not fall for it!

Alex turned to look at Clark, but he was already gone. This time, a faint red streak left in his wake.

Why was he taking the bait? The Chancellor was obviously bluffing!

Or maybe… he was not. Maybe Clark knew something that Alex didn’t. Maybe he had taken one look at the bulging lightning and realized that he was indeed out of time.

Severely weakened, to the point that he could barely stand, Clark charged straight at the dark tower. A last-ditch effort to destroy what was probably a gateway from hell.

Alex gulped as he realized that this was probably also… a sacrifice play.

Clark’s arm-blade was out. His body glowed blue once again, but only faintly. Inches away from the dark tower, Clark readied his final slash.

The Chancellor, positioned behind the tower, suddenly disappeared. He had somehow managed to activate his superspeed one last time.

In the next instant, The Chancellor reappeared directly above Clark.

Clark swung his arm-blade, but it never managed to reach the tower.

The Chancellor crashed onto Clark from above in a full body slam. He elbowed Clark’s spine and shoved him down to the ground, barely meters away from the tower.

The Chancellor rolled off of Clark’s body and grabbed him by his leg. He swung Clark’s body over him, dragging him away from the dark tower, and smashing him into the ground from an overhead angle.

He towered over a downed Clark, barely able to hold himself steady. The dark tower glowed bright directly behind him.

A faint grin spread across his battered face.

He had won.

But suddenly, a sharp sound from behind him wiped his grin away.

He turned around to spot two large metal balls at the edge of the black tower, beeping red.

BOOM!

A huge explosion erupted from the base of the black tower, destroying its very foundation. Multiple chain reactions followed, piercing upward through the height of the tower.

The dark tower crumbled, and the bulging red lightning swiftly died out.

“NOOO!” screamed The Chancellor, with the last bit of energy left within him, as the tower crashed into the ground.

The Chancellor, enraged out of his mind, now turned at Clark, who lay motionless before him. He spoke in a heavy, broken voice.

“You made me compromise… on everything I believe in… as a warrior. And I still didn’t get what I wanted!

“I had to trick you in order to get you; something I swore I’d never do. But blast it!” He coughed. “I have you now. And I told you before, didn’t I?”

He grabbed Clark’s body with both his hands and lifted him over his head. “I never make the same mistakes again!”

With Clark’s torso in one hand and his hips and legs in another, The Chancellor pulled on the robotic body from opposite ends.

Cracks appeared throughout Clark’s white metal body, progressively getting longer and wider. The blue light within him, which perhaps represented his life force, poured out of the cracks.

The Chancellor struggled to pull it apart. It wasn’t easy for him. Clark’s robot body was indeed tough.

The Chancellor let out a deafening roar and finally succeeded in severing the superhero’s body in two. The hexagonal sigil on Clark’s chest was crushed in the process, and its light died out.

But then—

CRACK!

A second explosion erupted from Clark’s body the moment it was severed. Chaotic electric sparks burst out from the break point, and quickly morphed into what looked like a disheveled sphere. The force pushed The Chancellor down on the ground, cowering on his back trying to slide away from the rapidly-expanding electric ball.

Alex couldn’t believe what happened next.

It was as though a crack had appeared in the fabric of reality. Hints of an alien world unfolded before him through the slowly-widening crack.

And then, a creature appeared out of it. Thin, slender, with lean muscles. He appeared humanoid; with a bald head, long slender arms, and bright golden eyes.

His body, too, was magma red, with multiple bright cracks spread all over it, like lava upon land. If not for the lava-like cracks, he appeared to be a normal human male, except that he was all muscle and no skin.

What in the world was this creature?

Another demon?

Only his nude torso emerged from the crack in reality, his lower body presumably still on the other side. It was difficult to tell with all the crackling white electricity obscuring vision around the crack.

He gazed around the landscape for five seconds; and then, he vanished. Just as abruptly as he’d appeared.

His vanishing led to another, minor explosion, which was more like a rapid release of energy. The Chancellor raised his hands to protect his face.

A golden beam shot through the crackling ball of violent electricity upward. It reached a summit, then split into several beams that spread out in all directions in the darkened sky like fireworks.

An eerie silence ensued.

The Chancellor struggled back on his feet to check on Clark. The blue light was completely gone.

Alex felt numb. He struggled with the idea that…

…that the superhero was dead.

The Chancellor let go a huge sigh of relief. He looked at the crumbled remains of the black tower, and back again at Clark’s severed body. He then let out a soft, maniacal chuckle.

“Well, congratulations,” he growled at Clark’s body. “You laid down your life for these filthy insects. And they don’t even know your name.”

The Chancellor coughed, struggling to speak. His legs began to shake.

“You die, and yet you fulfill your mission,” The Chancellor continued. “I live, and yet, I failed mine. I can respect that.” He struggled to get the words out.

“You were a valiant warrior,” he said to Clark. “I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”

The Chancellor turned to leave. “Keep your stupid planet,” he said. “I have no interest in conquering it…” he coughed again, “…anymore.”

“And besides,” he continued. “This pitiful planet was just claimed… by the Cyber-demon!”

The Chancellor coughed harder as he struggled to laugh. “Ohoho! These insects would’ve fared far better under me, believe me!

He continued with a grim smirk. “You have no idea of the evil that is coming your way. I only wish you could’ve lived to see it, as revenge for what you did to my body.”

He coughed again. A small alien spacecraft slowly descended beside him. This was the first time that Alex noticed it. It was probably hidden until now, perhaps using some sort of cloaking device.

A strange, worm-like alien emerged out of it and walked up to the demon.

“Chancellor,” he said. “You’re talking to a dead body.”

The Chancellor scoffed and spit out blood. “Talking to you is only marginally better, you stupid worm. Now get me out of here… before I succumb to my injuries.”

The worm supported the limping Chancellor with long, slimy tendrils that extended out of his body. The Chancellor collapsed into the ship, and the worm-like creature followed him inside. Soon there was lift-off, and the ship disappeared into space.

Alex could hardly believe any of what had just happened.

The Chancellor was gone. He had lived through it all.

And Clark, the superhero who had single-handedly defended Earth against a terrifying demon invasion, now lay dead on the ground.

Alex was surprised to see that he was already inside the perimeter of the circular park, close to the now decrepit concrete slab where The Chancellor was trapped, before being hit by the second plasma blast.

He had no memory of walking here; he’d been completely engrossed in the events of this magnificent battle between the two godlike beings.

Alex slowly walked up to Clark’s remains. Several wires of varying lengths and thicknesses sprawled out of both pieces of his body, no spark coming out of any of their severed ends.

The hexagonal sigil, which was enclosed within the black glass on his torso, was now gone.

Alex peeked closer. His insides were completely mechanical.

So he was only a robot… after all.

A robot with such an immense, other-worldly conviction to protect human lives.

Alex was surprised to find himself shedding tears for someone he barely knew.

Suddenly, a faint blue light flickered from behind the black glass on the white metal helmet, once again.

“You still didn’t run away, huh?” said the robotic voice that strangely sounded so human. “Well, call me a hypocrite all you want, but… Boy am I glad to see you still here.”

Book 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/s/nRlETBxnLd

Prologue:

The air was moist, the gravity was particularly comfortable, and the steel plating of the ship’s hull was at a calming cool temperature. There were now winds, however subtle currents of cool air drifted down slowly from the cooling plating on the ceiling.

“The Galactic Union is too confident in their control and has grown complacent. Nothing shall stop the Great Holy Trinity’s conquest of the universe.” One member, the elder of the Flr’ruut spoke. His orange scales pattern changed slightly, reflecting his glee and pride at the state of affairs.

“We've finally determined the greatest threats to our expansion, and allowed for the puppet species to take care of matters.” A second member spoke, her age had been getting to her recently. As a Yul’huun, reaching this age was quite the accomplishment. Though it's most likely from her use of technology and monetary assets she's gained by becoming a council member. Her fur stood on end as she showed her excitement.

“Excellent. We will take what's rightfully ours. This galaxy, no. This universe was never meant for these lower beings. Extermination is the only course of action.” The patriarch, standing tall, replied. His voice a brutal, deep, and guttural growl. His posture was strict, even for his own species. His implants working overtime just to keep his flesh alive. He was ancient. Older than the other two councilors combined. At this point he was more machine than Vrul’thrun’tuul. “Are we sure all threat species are dealt with?”

“No species can survive the viruses produced by the puppets.” The Yul’huun councilor stated, her voice thin and tired. She relaxed into the cushioned seat of the council room.

“There are some particularly tenacious ones out there. Perhaps we should consider our options and watch the afflicted systems just in case?” The Flr’ruut councilor articulated, moving his left arm to gesture to the 3 dimensional hologram in the middle of the room, showing the location of each plague world in red.

“Have you no pride, T’orum!? No dignity? Do you not believe in our strength!? That our own people cannot handle themselves? Are you so pathetic as to deny our people's victory?” The Vrul’thrun’tuul councilor was outraged. T’orum sat back in his seat.

“No, councilor Ferisil.” T’orum replied hesitantly. He couldn't deny, as an herbivorous species, the predatory gaze of the Vrul’thrun’tuul made him incredibly uncomfortable.

“Very well then.” Ferisil bowed his head in a show of joy. “We'll build up our forces and prepare for war.”

“How do you plan to acquire the raw materials to build the fleets? We're already low on resources planet-side and it'll take years for systems on the outer edges to initiate their asteroid mining operations.” The Yul’huun Councilor implored, leaning forward in anticipation, allowing her head to rest on her prosthetic arm.

“A demonstration should suffice Councilor Veg’n’thral.” Councilor Ferisil replied, a distinctive passionate fire lit deep in his eyes.

“And our plan for engagement?” T’orum queried, curious of the strategic approach they must take in order to accomplish such an unfathomable task.

“Swarm their stations with a hoard of small, fast moving ships. Thus disabling the use of kinetic weaponry it'd be a waste of resources for them, and they'd have to resort to plasma weapons.” Councilor Ferisil continued in an almost condescending tone. “Which our shields are the perfect counter. They'd fall before us like the insignificant fodder they truly are.”

“It sounds like a perfect plan, Councilor Ferisil. How do we alleviate the issue of the Puppet species? They will attempt to escape and rebel if they become suspicious.”

Veg’n’thral replied before Ferisil could, “We'll gas them out using neurotoxin and aerosolized myotoxins in order to destroy all members on each world. We’ll cover it up as an experimental technology gone wrong.”

“Ah, genius Veg’n’thral. You'll most certainly be immortalized through a new verse within the Holy Trinity long history.” Ferisil threw his arms out to his sides, allowing himself to bask in his own glory.

//(A note from Derrick: Yeah, these losers circle jerk eachother for a little while longer. Trust me, hearing this annoys me equally as much. Prideful wrinkly ass bastards…

First Chapter | Previous Chapter

The dungeon core had broken free of the trunk in the same explosion. I crashed into the ground, badly bruised but mostly unbroken. Pain flared, and I was forced to toggle back to my life orb to blunt it. I looked up at the floating core, which seemed to be glowing. I had no idea what it was doing, but I couldn’t afford to waste time finding out. My mana was already quickly draining from the healing work.

I threw my mallet at the core, wishing I had invested anything into accuracy. I got lucky, and the mallet hit the core with a clink, knocking it out of the sky. The brothers charged towards its falling destination, and Cecile smashed it the second it hit the ground. This time, the experience window did pop up, signaling our actual victory.

“Was that normal? Do higher-level cores tend to do that?” I asked. The brothers both shrugged. We were moving into unknown territory for all of us it seemed. We spent another hour or so gathering up what shards we could find until each of us received the completion quests for the dungeon. It seemed there was nothing else of note here. The experience, less than five thousand total, hadn’t really done anything for me, but to the joy of Cecile and Elicec, it had pushed them both to level sixty-six.

Apparently, they had completed a couple of quests beyond the dungeon exploration itself. I was just happy to see how happy they were about the leveling. Elicec had System quests to collect various knowledge skills, and Cecile had his own for plant life. Luckily for him undead plant life still counted.

The return trip was spent in silence as they allocated their growth. I checked how long the whole trip had taken us, and as it was a little less than three hours, I was debating trying another dungeon or two today. I examined all the wounds and found the vast majority of them were already mostly healed. There was a single deep cut on my arm that I seemed to be having the most trouble with. Remembering I still hadn’t unlocked stitch from the life orb, I pushed that up to my cap as well.

It was a strange feeling watching a thread of mana slowly work its way through a slash in my flesh, sewing it shut. There was no pain, the opposite in fact, once it finished, I felt the mana usage of pain management decrease. I checked my mana and saw at my current usage I was going to run out before the healing had time to finish. I toggled off my body-enhancing orbs, and the drain radically decreased. No more mental and strength training for me at the moment, not if I wanted to be healed and try tackling another dungeon today.

“Dave, how you doing over there?” Cecile asked, breaking the silence first.

“I’m alright, a little banged up from the big guy at the end, but the healing magic is going to work. I wish it didn’t drain so much mana, though. I’d like to keep my body-enhancing orbs active at the same time,” I said. I knew it was a petty complaint. Virtually no one even had access to more than one orb at the same time, and I was here whining that I couldn’t always actively use both.

“It’ll get better; well, you’ll get more mana and be more efficient at using what you have, at least. I guess with the multiple orbs, it’s always gonna be harder than for us,” Cecile replied. I appreciated the effort to cheer me up, even if it didn’t really work.

“How would you feel about another dungeon today? I figure we can grab some quick food and see about the next easiest. Honestly, that place seemed easier than Mel sold it as,” I said.

“I’m game if Elicec is, and yeah, Mel’s just really worried about us. I think there’s a lot of stuff brewing behind the scenes he can’t tell us about,” Cecile replied. I had been considering the same thing, especially when his early warning had been taken into account. Every time I went down that path I got stuck at one point, though; if things were moving in a way that Mel was very aware of them, why am I still here? Why not just deal with me and Sanquar right now? Was it just a matter of red tape or strange legal questions I didn’t understand? I knew I’d have my answer soon enough and worrying about it now was just a waste of time, but pushing it out of my mind was something easier said than done.

“I’m also game. Those levels were what I needed to start on my planned path. I’ve got several nodes unlocked in my elemental orb now, and with the dendrology skill we gained from that dungeon, I’ve got enough knowledge skills to start figuring out monsters’ weaknesses,” Elicec said. I checked my skills, and he had been right. We had gained that skill. Why hadn’t I gotten a notification?

“Congratulations, that should be a pretty big asset. Question though, why didn’t I get a notification on the new skill? I checked just to be sure, but it’s there, just nothing to inform me,” I said, confused.

“Oh, after the first species knowledge skill, it doesn’t bother telling you. I assume you get notifications about most attributes anymore, either,” Elicec said, and he was right. None of the sub-attributes had alerted me. They had just been there as things I could invest in.

“Fair enough. I suppose I was getting tired of the endless notification windows,” I said truthfully. They had rapidly grown annoying. The door swung open, signaling the end of our trip. We all hopped out and made our way back to Mel to report our success and see about another dungeon.

Pushing through the heavy exterior door, I looked around the adventurer hall as we reentered, and for the first time, I noticed how empty the place was. I knew we rarely had any kind of wait to interact with Mel or do any of our business. Was that normal? Before the thoughts really settled into the forefront of my curiosities, Mel spotted us from behind one of the weapons racks and floated out, looking glad to see us alive. Cecile spoke first, and Elicec and I let him tell the story in silent agreement.

“Look, I’m glad ya did as good as ya did there, but are you really sure you want to tackle another dungeon right now? With how quickly you grew, it’s possible, but the next two are directly on top of each other and may even be linked. We don’t have the full details there yet,” Mel said after Cecile finished.

“We’ve gotta push through this as fast as possible, right? We won’t gain much besides a little extra healing time sticking around here right now, so I figure we grab some food and get going,” I said.

Mel sighed before speaking. “I already ordered yer food. I figured there was no talking any of ya outta this, and I didn’t wanna waste any time. The next two dungeons are the Froggy Swamp and the Caverns of Sparkling Death. I strongly suggest you try to take out the first one before the second, but depending on how linked they turn out to be, I don’t know if that’ll end up viable or not,” Mel said.

“What makes a linked dungeon special? Oh, and before I forget, any guess why my mana orbs haven’t ranked up? I’m still double their level, and yet they’re beating me there,” I asked, both questions itching away in my brain for answers.

“I’ll get to that second question in a second, but first up, a linked dungeon means the cores are working together somehow. It could range from a simple agreement of non-hostility towards each other all the way to a weird type of romantic partnership, so ya gotta be careful as you figure out exactly what it is,” Mel answered the first question, pausing to grab some of the food that had appeared, and quickly gobbling it down before he continued. “The orbs, now that’s a hard question, tell me how your simulations work exactly.”

In between my own eating I did exactly as Mel asked, receiving several nods as I did so. “So the only real differences I can see between the simulation and the real thing are my injuries don’t last other than backlashes, and none of that feeling of being in a dungeon,” I said, wondering if it was either of those.

“The first is very unlikely to be a negative for anything, but some weird pain builds. The second could be a problem, though it won’t really ever put you behind since I guess you will still be doing the same number of dungeons generally. You just get a lot of extra fighting in you. That dungeon feeling yer describing, though, that’s your soul being pressed down on by an external force, it will learn to fight back against that more and more. That also ain’t the reason for the orbs. It’s gotta just be yer core ain’t big enough to give them all the energy for ranking up yet. You will probably always be a bit behind due to that, but the sheer volume of spells yer gonna have access to should greatly make up for it, and who knows, once your core is big enough, it might be able to push out more energy than the orbs can even take in daily,” Mel explained. That did make the most sense, there was only so much ambient core energy I had at the moment, and mine was being divided by six. I should have thought of that on my own.

“Yeah, that’s likely it. Thanks, Mel,” I said. I wished I had more time to analyze all that’s going on with my systems myself, but for the immediate future, I was already far too pressed for time to make that a priority. My inner engineer raged at the idea of using so many untested things, but what choice did I have?

“No problem, now finish up yer food and get yer asses back out there. I want you three back before dark. I swear if y’all make me send a search and rescue team after you…” He trailed off with the threat. I half expected he’d have just sent himself if he actually became worried enough.

“I’ll make sure they don’t do anything stupid, and we greatly appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Mel,” Elicec said.

“You better!” Mel laughed at this statement, letting his angry dad persona slip. We spent the rest of the quick meal with a strange story from Cecile involving mushrooms and ducks, and then it was back in the air again. Two dungeons awaited.

Pain, cuts, bruises, broken bones, these are all things that most people avoid as much as they possibly can, but this isn’t true universally. As I’ve said before, all things can become mana sources if there is enough of it to form into an orb, and while no record of a naturally forming pain orb exists, there have been at least a dozen created throughout the history of the Spiral. Eleven of these were created by some of the worst people history has ever seen, but strangely, the twelfth was created by the famed healer Lorica Jolre. How and why he did this remains a mystery.

An excerpt from Mana Sources by Henjen Klank.

Royal Road | Patreon

Jack surmised the rest of his tale, "Then I found and returned them to their mom.", making everyone state at home in disbelief, knowing full well that interacting with Death Claws babies meant instant death by mauling or being swallowed whole.

Only for their conversation to be cut short when Bjorn and Beowulf raced off the cliffside and barrel toward the lizards who began to fire upon them! The blaster fire bounced right off their toughened hide! They swatted away the ground troops like bugs before ramming straight through the gated walls and toppling them over like building blocks!

Seeing this, Jox yelled, "Who cares about the detail? Your giant bear friends are pushing the Lizards back! Let's help them push more!"

Suddenly, the battle was back in their favor as they easily pushed through the enemy camp, thanks to Bjorn and Beowulf acting as the world's best damage sponges and battering rams. Swiping asie groups of lizards, any leftovers were taken out almost immediately by the rest of the militia as they pushed through and down any building or tents, causing the lizards to flee in mass!

Swiping at groups of lizards, the rest of the militia almost immediately removed any leftovers as they pushed through and down any buildings or tents, causing the lizards to flee in mass! Eventually, they got to where the lizards had parked their spaceship. Unfortunately, that same spaceship was guarded by four large cannons mounted on what looked like metal pillars. The canons, sensing the arrival of the death claws, slowly turn in their direction and begin to pelt them with weaponized sound! The result of the cannons was massive!

Although it didn't break the animal's skin, the vibrations it caused were so massive that it shook their bones and organs, causing them to cry out in pain as they were knocked off their feet. Each cannon shot one after the other and would reload after the last one fired, only for the cycle to continue. The death claws took cover behind what remained of the building and tents, as did the militia. Even if the cannon only hurt the death claws, they would die if they so much as got grazed. But thankfully, they were more focused on the two giant animals, and the lizards were taking advantage of this as well. Regrouping to swarm the small army before letting the cannons scare off or kill the animals.

"Impact cannons! Even a Death Claw's tough hide can't deflect something like that.", Flix asked as he stretched out his neck to peek at what was holding the living tanks back.

"Look! They got that Chrono junk!" Jack suddenly announced as he pointed to the lizard's spaceship with his binoculars.

Everyone else looked on their own, and any lizards near the ship were hauling in huge white crystalline rocks on the double! Tuxy pulled off his binoculars and exclaimed in worry, "We can't let them get away with it! Otherwise, they could pop up anywhere in the galaxy without a wormhole!"

"Then how do we get past those impact cannons," Flix asked him as several balster shots were blasted through their cover.

Only for everyone to halt in their panic and turn their eyes to the only remaining brother, Jox, with anticipation for another last-second miracle, Jox looked back at his squad and admitted, "Yeah, I do have a friend.", he then sat on his knee and patted his stomach while saying to no one, "Okay, time for you to come up now."

Within a few seconds, Jox began to look uncomfortable and made the sounds one makes just before throwing up. He coughed, burped, and gaged before finally spitting something from his mouth into his hands! Everyone expressed the same revulsion as they stepped away from the saliva, stomach musca, and whatever else was mixed into the slop before them. Everyone looked ready to vomit but kept their composure long enough.

"Holy crap!", Jake exclaimed.

"I thought you grew out of swallowing weird things when you were 10.", Jack said while turning green.

"Oh god, that was terrible!", Jox gasped as tears streamed down his face.

"You're one to talk! You are not the one having to crawl up your slimy esophagus," said something inside the man's slimy hands.

Hearing the voice, everyone crewed around the man as he held what looked like a strange insect in his hands. It was a quarter of the size of a rhinoceros beetle but colored dirt brown and shaped more like a wasp with large pinchers on its mouth.

After coughing a bit and wiping his eyes, Jox shot back, "Says the guy who eats shit!"

As Jox and the bug traded words with one another, bantering like an old couple, everyone else started in a mix of confusion and disbelief. Then Tuxy broke the tension as he inquired, "Im not the only one who sees this, am I?"

Jack and Jake said at the same time, "The talking bug my brother just regurgitated, yes."

"You speak? You think?" Flix asked incredulously, getting back his composure after spacing out.

The bug turned to all of them and said with a bow, "And therefore, I am. My name is Thorax, and I am a member of the Grax. Sorry about my strange introduction. But I needed somewhere warm, moist, and full of food for me to recover after I nearly got killed."

"And that's why he was in your stomach?", Jack inquired.

"What was he eating?" Jake asked in an unnerving tone.

"My shit.", Jox replied like it was the most normal thing to say, making everyone gag.

After swallowing the context of his stomach, Tuxy said, "Okay, I don't even want to know what your story is with him."

"Good, 'cause it's not too pleasant.", Jox assured him.

Thorax was insulted by their reactions and argued back with a proud tone, "Don't be like that! My kind has considered feces as our prime delicacy for as long as we can remember. And I have to say that Terrain feces are a flavorful buffet! Do all of your species' feces taste as good as yours?", he asked Jox while salivating.

"I just eat a bunch of sugar and fast food.", Jox said with a shrug.

Tuxy finally got his mind in order after digesting all this information and his dinner, then went into serious mode as he asked Thorax, "The high council, let alone the Innergaltic Congression, never knew intelligent life was on this planet. Why didnt you come out and say something when we came here?"

"Because you kept landing your oversized skyships where we placed our hives," Torax said in a very displeased tone, buzzing his wings.

"So those mounds of dirt in all those open flat areas are actually-." Tuxy began to connect the dots until Thorax confirmed.

"The homes that we personally made and the land that we smoothed out and opened up—yes. So we weren't too thrilled about introducing ourselves," he said, crossing two of his limbs in a displeased huff.

Tuxy was horrified at this news! He and everyone else who came to this planet always assumed those mounts of dirt were nothing more than that, dirt! Since the mountain made landing large aircraft hard and trees overtook any flat space, those open spots were their only hope. But to think that creatures, intelligent creatures, were living there sent waves of guilt and horror throughout him. How many millions, if not billions, had they been inconvenienced by accident or, worse, genocided? The very thought was overwhelming!

Tuxy got on the ground, bowing low, and begged for forgiveness: "I apologize on behalf of the Congression and the High Council for our ineptitude in not realizing there was a sapient species and that we were damaging your homes!"

However, Flix doesn't share the same sentiments. He used his tail and augmented strength to sneakily gain some more debris with his tail to cover them, but it was fading fast, and the shells of the Terrasquawalla were heavily injured. Any more, and they would crack!

So he exclaimed in firm seriousness, "Never mind that! How is he supposed to help us?"

Jox then took an earpiece intercom from his belt and handed it to the bug. He explained, "Take this intercom and fly to those Impact Cannons. We'll tell you how to disarm them."

Torax nods and flaps wet wings, drying them fast before taking off into the air. Using his small size, he easily flies past the blaster fire and the eyes of all the lizards. All expect is for a few who try to make a quick snack out of him. This was something his people had been facing since the lizards came to their planet. Seeing the Grax as nothing more but food and digging up mound after mound to fill their stomachs. Which is why he had to take refuge in Jox's stomach when they met. Luckily, he had gotten better at dodging them and made it to the first cannon in record time.

With the earpiece, he reached the control panel and found the face plate containing the connection and power lines for the whole system. Unfortunately, the panel was locked down tight, and no matter where Thorax flew, he couldn't find an opening.

"Dammit!" he cried.

"What?!", Flix asked him over the com.

"They got this thing locked up tight," Throax replied, raising the militia's nerves. They wondered if their plan would fail, only for Thorax to see small vent openings and say, "But don't worry; my kind has a special ability."

Suddenly, the bug flew toward the plate and shrank to a nearly microscopic size with the com in hand! He easily slipped through the air crack and entered the inner workings of the machine until he found the motherboard.

"I wish you'd use that when crawling through my digestive tract.", Jox said over the com with irritation in his tone.

"Never mind that! Do you see a red wire?", Flix asked him.

Looking around a bit after returning to normal size, his compound eyes finally fell upon the wire, and he replied, "Yes."

"Cut it!" Flix half yelled with increasing worry as their shelter companies left the Terrasquawalla to act as a defense.

Using his pinchers, he snaps through the wire like it was made of grass. The whole motherboard sparks around him before the cannon finally shuts down, drawing away the lizards' attention long enough for the Terrasquawalla to catch a break. Once the first cannon was offline, Thorax moved on to the others.

"One cannon down! " Jox called to his team, only to watch another cannon go offline and recount, "Two." Then another went down, and he exclaimed in excitement as the lizards began to look worried. "Three down and one remaining!"

With only one remaining and the fact it took a long time to reload Bjorn and Beowulf took this chance to run out of their hiding spot and bolt for the cannon. They jumped upon the cannon, and with their upper body strength, they pushed the huge weapon to the ground, where it crashed and exploded!

Seeing their opening once more, Tuxy yelled, "Let's move, people! Move, move, move!"

The militia pushed in, yelling war cries as they took down the horde of lizards and were soon joined by the Death Claws, who resumed swiping and stomping on the lizards who were defenseless to fight the huge animals! As they pushed right to the main spaceship, any remaining lizards trying to haul more of the crystal dropped their loads and ran for their lives! Another ran onto the ship and tried to close the bay doors to escape!

"They're trying to get away!", Jox cried out while trying to take a shot at the lizard but missed.

"Oh no, they won't!", Thorax's voice came over his com.

Just before the lizard could hit the emergency close button, Thorax, in his small size, flew in before changing to normal size and using his stinger to poke the lizard's eye! Even though their scales were tough enough to resist their stongs, their eyes weren't. The lizard fell to the ground, writhing in agony from the pain of the venom, leaving the doors unguarded!

"Gotcha! Not so tasty now, am I?!" Thorax yelled while flying over the lizard's head.

From there, the rest of the battle was a cakewalk as Bjorn and Beowulf took out any groups of lizards still aiming to attack in bravery or stupidity. The militia shot down any remaining lizards who tried to attack them. And Thorax, who bravely guarded the cargo ship full of Chronoium from any other lizard state that tried to escape with it. Only a few of the lizards managed to escape with the several smaller ships scattered around the outpost, leaving their main ship behind even as the Death Claws and Shift Wings attempted to catch or knock the ship from the air in retribution!

Once the last of the lizards fell, the spoilers fanned out and searched the whole camp for any strangler or hidden surprise attacker. Luckily, nothing came up, and it seemed that the camp was empty and secured. Just to be sure, they went out a drone to scene the whole camo and took comic reading just in case. The last task was easier than done since they had to keep Bjorn and Beowulf still. Once they were at least 88% sure the camp was clean, then they relaxed and gave the memo to the other General.

Jox approached Tuxy and saluted him. He then reported, "General Tuxy, the outpost has been secured, and the lizards are gone; what are your orders?"

Tuxy nods and salutes him back before calling the group back and announcing, "Let's wrap up any and all Chronoium. Take another serve around the planet and make sure those reptiles are long gone! Then, well, pack the ship and head back to tell the high council about everything we've seen and found out.", as everyone nods breathlessly or gives their reply of affirmation, Tuxy quickly adds, "But before that, a small celebration is needed for a successful mission. Thanks to you three.", he said while motioning to the three brothers, who looked at him in confusion while pointing to themselves.

He nods, and, marching to them, he places a hand on the shoulder of two of the three brothers while telling them with a proud expression and tone, "I admit I had my doubts about you, Terrans, at first. But seeing how easily you three were able to make friends with so many creatures helped make this mission as successful as it was. Well, I am glad to be wrong for once in my life."

Before the brother could give other thanks to the general, Thorax files in front of his face and asks in a demanding tone, "I don't suppose I could tag along with you when you leave?"

Tuxy stands back a bit so he's not looking down his nonexistent nose and replies, "Of course, Thorax, but why?"

"I would like to meet with this high council you told me about and assure them that the Grax exists. Maybe even become a representative. We can make more openings and flat land for your ships to land without our homes nearby, and we do have something you want.", he says with a knowing sound in his voice, holding up a tiny fragment of Chronoium.

"I don't see why not.", Tuxy agrees with a nod, seeing as the Grax now had a means of transport, embargo, services that the council couldn't refute, and to be treated as an equal.

Once the excitement had subsided, Flix went to help treat the Terrasquawalla's shell injuries with the first aid supplies left by the lizards. Tuxy began writing reports on what happened, and the three brothers took inventory of everything the lizards had gathered or left behind. All while the Shift Wings gell back home, the death Claws said goodbye to their first friend, and Throax hung around them, listening and chatting it up with Jox, who was rambling on and on.

Knowing what their brother was like, Jack and Jake stepped into their conversation and said, "Im guessing my brother chomped your ears off while you were inside of him. Boy, that didn't come out right.", Jack said while rubbing the back of his head.

"I like conversation.", Thorax assured him.

"I thought you wanted to join us just to sample the many flavors of alien crap we have.", Jox poked fun at him.

"Who says I can't have my cake and eat it too?", Thorax argued back as the two of them laughed, leaving Jake and Jack to wonder what the hell kind of friendship they had.

After the battle of Graxgrah had finally ended, the small team of soldiers from all walks of life and the galaxy loaded and transported the rare Chronoium and gave reports back to the high council of their findings with Throax accompanying them. Deals were made, and Thorax became a representative of Graxgrah and the planet, a part of the Intergalactic Congression. The price of Chromium has far reduced thanks to the supplies of Graxgrah, and the small militia was made heroes for their valiant and surprisingly speedy effort in fending off the lizards, taking back an overtaken planet, finding new species to join them, and vastly reducing the monetary strain for intergalactic travel. But General Tuxy always gave cries to the three brothers of Terra Prime and their species' unusual ability to make friends with just about anything under the most strange circumstances.

Chapter 1 - Green Bean

The “Flash Dance” was a high warp, specialist freighter. It had external airlock docks to maintain atmosphere and climate control for external cargo containers. The Internal docking bays were able to maintain artificial gravity, climate control, pressures and additional power depending on customer needs. The armoured and shielded bays were available to VIP cargo’s.

The ship and crew had no reputation. They tried very hard to make sure it stayed that way. The mat black paint job of the ship stopped detailed LDAR scans. The radar scans replied with scatter due to the angled containers and their ribbed sides. You generally need to get the old camera out and have a look. The angry looking fluro coloured point defence systems, and oversized manoeuvring thrusters, gave a clear “don’t fuck with us” kind of a vibe. The transponders code looking like it was broken and filled with gibberish ^&%$\#&^\*((?@1 was both memorable and forgettable at the same time.

The navigation data was one of the most precious items the ship had collected over years of transporting and warping in and out of many systems. The gathered observation data was valuable, but the pin point warp arrival points and shortcuts, they are what kept the deliveries valuable. They kept inter systems sub warp travel as short as possible. The encrypted warp arrival data was even stored as separate charts in various quantum arrays. Throughout the ship to maintain its secrecy.

The warp verification of other routes was a hobby of Timmo. He would trade data with other ships, finding the unverified warp courses and set the ship's computer array into data mining mode to see if they had crossed any of the warp arrival points or at least be able to cross check them using other astronavigation techniques. He would then sell this data back to other crews. The captain had always said, you can keep any credits you make from other captains or their crews.

The “Flash Dance” did a final course correction to hold Geostationary orbit over one of the crew's favourite forage and hunting sites they had found so far. Any year the shipping magnate arranged a flotilla bazar, a visit to the “Green Bean” was always a welcome stop by the crew. It was still called by some silly prefix like ABC 123 as it did not hold any precious metals or exotic materials and did not have any colony. It however was full of life..

The Captain allocated a few weeks R n R on the “Green Bean”. This was the 5th visit the ship had made. By any measure it was a Profitable stop. The collected goods were packed ready for trading in The Shipping Magnate’s Bazar. All sorts of goods will be up for sale and trading. But food, rations and booze always sell well. Crews are always grateful for fresh supplies. The profits were split to make sure the visit from the planet was fair. The captain’s take was 10%, 5% for ship commodities and repairs. The rest for the shared crew pool.

The docking and manoeuvring drones readied the dropship for its hot hover and drop. Two containers were attached to the lowering gantry. On the planet's surface the drop ship was manoeuvred to hover over the lake to enable the containers and crew to be dropped on the gravel beach. In the tight landing zone.

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Synopsis:

Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.

Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.

Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.

Chapter 329: Colour Coordination

As a princess, I was no stranger to being chased by the masses.

Whether it was the maids who brushed my hair, the maids who put on my clothes or the maids who picked up the socks which didn’t exist as I walked to the bathroom, unwanted adoration was a fact of life.

It mattered little whether I was in my favoured black dress or masterfully incognito. My regal aura pervaded all.

If it wasn’t the 2nd sons inviting themselves to my designated scowling zone in a soirée, it was the merchants camped outside town gates who incorrectly assumed that because my pouch was bottomless, my generosity was as well.

However, while boundaries were often viewed as guidelines rather than the official laws inscribed in my dreams that they were, few crowds ever breached decorum enough to send me fleeing. 

This, though–

“Kekekekekekekekekeke~”

This was very much a low point for common etiquette.

Behind me, the corridor of a highly makeshift castle was shaking. 

Horrifying when a single poodle decided to play catch with the fruit bowls masterfully painted in my portraits. But even more so when the cause was a stampede of demented serial killers. 

Redcaps.

Like most innocent maidens, my only experience with these diminutive murderers were from tales told by the daughters trespassing upon my mandatory tea table. Between my bouts of wakeful unconsciousness, I would catch excited snatches of conversation as brief as the sightings they claimed to enjoy.

Redcaps, after all, were nothing if not useful as a ready-made source of villainy and bedtime tales. 

When the threat of marrying into a lesser house was too grim a punishment for those below the age of 10, these fun-sized lunatics were a useful spectre instead, their sneers and crooked nails ready to steal away any young maiden who didn’t have dragons to fear instead.

Officially the cousins of goblins and even more officially a type of pixie, they were magic shaped into sadism and insanity. Summoned either by a complex blood ritual or by snacking past midnight, redcaps were favoured as both the monster in the closet and the darkness below the bed. 

After all, while they surely existed, no princess was likely to encounter one while safe within the confines of her tower.

A problem, then.

The closest thing I had to a tower was a shoddy castle where the inside was officially worse than the outside. 

A feat which deserved its own accolade. 

As I judged the corridors of falling pebbles and cracked mud, it was to an accompaniment of far too many footsteps behind me. Their boots tested the walls more than any siege could, joined by the frantic swishing of their cleavers and the shrill cry of their laughter managing to shake the very air.

This was unfortunate. 

For the redcaps, that is.

Boooooooooomph!

A crudely drawn rune stuck to the ground exploded. As did those around it. 

The result was clear even without glancing behind. Manic laughter and giddy delirium fought against the sound of redcaps disintegrating into whatever morbid magic held them together. And then they vanished, replaced by a chorus of thunder as a tinge of blue lit up the infinite crevasses around us.

After all–

The walls might be falling apart. But the traps they hid weren’t.

Within halls already boasting the appearance of well touristed ruins, I was greeted by the sound of ceaseless cranks and snaps as tiles lowered, strings were snapped and gongs were ominously smashed in the distance. 

Death and rust were slow to answer, but answer they did. 

Multiple pairs of giant hacksaws passed one another like broken scissors. 

Volleys of darts from tiny holes peppering the walls whisked through the air while leaving poison trailing in their wake. 

A gauntlet of flames swept up from protrusions in the ground, showering their own devices with a carpet of molten shards. 

Clouds of violet fumes hungrily lapped at the air, bristling with the floating visages of literal skulls.

“Hup.”

All the while … I used my delicate foot tapping technique to carefully discern the lethal traps before me. 

Pwoooooooooooooooooosh.

Yes.

Even if delicate foot tapping meant the traps triggering as I skipped without pause, ignoring the hacksaws, flames, darts and toxic clouds erupting behind me like all the colours of the rainbow.

“Hup … hup … hup.”

I dared to peek behind me.

Within the corridor, carnage abounded.

A gruesome display of goblin engineering. Little of which the pursuing redcaps cared about. 

Their joy was in the challenge of leaping off the disembodied backs of their peers as they swung their cleavers towards me. Off went their bright little hats as they were sliced, burned, and smothered, leaving only their echoing laughter behind.

I had not a word of admonishment. 

This was the exact sort of effort I expected from my foes. And if all of them committed to brutally murdering me with a cleaver instead of languishing with unworkable plots, perhaps Soap Island wouldn’t soon be needing actual accommodation instead of whatever open sky they indulged in.

“Oooh~”

Beside me, Coppelia briefly paused in her own skipping to glance at the destruction as well. 

Her bright eyes lit up further at the literal bonfire of magic and flames–just before she dipped her head beneath a swinging guillotine. Even so, she had enough time to break into applause as a cloud in the shape of a walrus burst forth to a shower of sparkles and floating hats now shorn of their owners. 

“9/10~” she said cheerily. “We get a free zoo trip with our trapped corridor! That’s attention to detail.”

I was aghast.

As I saw the beginnings of a dozen spikes releasing from their crevasse, it was all I could do to shake my head while watching them impale the air where my face had just been.

“C-Coppelia! … We’re being chased by a literal horde of homicidal lunatics whose bloodlust won’t allow them to cease even when literal fire is in front of them. This is hardly the time for idleness!”

“... So the sasquatch was your favourite?”

“The alpaca,” I admitted. “I would give that toxic cloud shape a generous 7/10 … maybe 8/10. But not because I think they’re somewhat endearing. It’s simply that their wool is often of a higher quality than their sheep counterpart. It’s softer and less fibrous.”

“Alpacas are cute, aren’t they?”

I bit my lips.

“They … They just look so silly, Coppelia. And fluffy.”

Coppelia giggled … all the while, a pyre of redcaps melted behind us to a ceaseless trove of goblin traps.

Frankly, I was almost impressed.

Almost.

The boasts of the goblin foreman weren’t quite justified. But few were in the competitive world of trapped corridors. Acknowledgement was due, however, for the fact that a hodgepot castle was able to feature modern designs in anti-intruder mechanisms.

That meant colour coordination.

It was as chaotic as a witch’s favourite concoction, yes … but unlike a paint palette, the colours of flame, magic and alchemy when mixed were wildly unpredictable. Even if unintentional, I was glad for the opportunity to test the effects before knowing which I would suggest to my stewards.

True, I didn’t quite hope to admire this while activating every trap simultaneously … but that’s fine!

When it came to princesses refusing to die to a bloodthirsty horde who didn’t have the courtesy to wipe off the blood from their previous victim, nothing could match my skipping! 

Especially when the eager killers themselves were their own worst obstacle. 

Any time a redcap threatened to escape the cacophony of destruction, a hand from the horde would purposefully drag them back in. 

To the worthy goes the spoils. Or in this case, the one least betrayed by their own.

“You know,” said Coppelia as she watched as a bolt of acid zip past her nose. “I’m pretty sure that somewhere, a goblin is watching this with a glum face. Traps probably shouldn’t be murdering the guys chasing after us.”

“The glum face can be reversed, then. They’re by far the best things about this slapdash castle.”

“Oooh … that sounds like a hidden compliment.”

“It’s simply less of an insult.” I ducked as a twirling orb of ice shattered itself into the opposing wall, leaving a scorch as black as flames behind. “But while they’re not effective in catching princesses, I concede they’ve value elsewhere. I’ve even a mind to consider some of these combinations for the Royal Villa’s own dungeon.”

“Gasp. You wouldn’t.” 

“I know. But hear me out. After they trigger, any surviving burglars would be left alone with only horror as their peers are turned into clashing shades of a rainbow. Their cries will reverberate upstairs for all the guests to hear. Our standing would only increase.”

Coppelia nodded as she pretended to listen, focusing instead on avoiding the pouring cauldron of molten acid someone else mysteriously triggered. 

I was delighted. Her handmaiden’s training was progressing marvellously. 

“Hmm … out of curiosity, do you ever actually keep people in your dungeon?”

“What?” I blinked in shock. “Of course not. That’s barbaric.”

“Oh, okay. What do you do with the constant burglars, then?”

“The same thing we do with our drunken guests. We direct them to a sign mistakenly pointing to Clarise’s test chamber as the wine cellar. We’d never place them in the dungeon. The smell from their vomit would waft upwards.”

Coppelia hummed. 

It was barely heard above the sound of arcing lightning striking the wall next to her, rebounding several times before lunging into the carnage behind.

“In that case, why have a dungeon if you can’t toss someone there only to needlessly taunt them before they escape 30 minutes later?”

“Because imprisonment isn’t its purpose. Our dungeon serves as the default location for secret rendezvouses when our guests conspire in our home. Half the treason attempts we discover are due to them sneaking out of their rooms in the dead of night to loudly whisper in the dungeon.”

“Ehhh … why not just conspire in their rooms?”

“That’d be far too sensible. A trait those who indulge in conspiracy are not known to have. And while all dream of treason, so few ever get the chance–especially within the abode of the same royalty they hope to usurp. Of course they’d play the game of cloak and daggers. It’s fine entertainment. There even used to be an acoustic tube leading directly to our dining chamber, just so we could listen while eating gelato. Sadly, it’s gone now.”

“Oh, was it discovered?”

“No, we had to remove it when Father almost died choking from laughter on a pine nut.”

Coppelia only blinked. 

That was good. There was a law against laughing at that incident. 

Fortunately, there was none against laughing at the failings of a mage whose summoned underlings were now indistinct colours in the backdrop.

As the corridor came to an end, so too did the array of goblin traps. No more spears, saws, darts or haphazard swipes of magic tried to whisk us into the mud. 

Sensing a reprieve, I stopped and turned to admire the handiwork behind me. 

All I saw was a smouldering wreckage. 

Dust, embers and toxic clouds floating like oddly coloured marshmallows were all that remained of the murderous, if relentlessly jolly horde. 

Here and there, a few traces of their shining cleavers could be seen sizzling on the ground. The bloodied residues of whatever sadistic magic bound them. They disintegrated a moment later, their memory erased like shortcake crumbs swept by a maid’s broom. 

I duly nodded.

Then, I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering my smile.

“Ohohohohohoho!! … I see that hiring is a skill that adventurers have yet to achieve. A shame. If it was a plague of giant badgers that was called upon, I would have conceded defeat on the spot.”

Coppelia stretched upwards as a single piece of red fabric came floating towards her. 

The only remnant of the tiny horde, complete with a few splotches of dried blood which most certainly weren’t from the wearer. She caught it, carefully eyed the blood, then stuffed it into her pouch.

“I bet I can trade this with a suspicious forest witch,” she said enthusiastically.

I only smiled in response.

Where she’d find a suspicious forest witch and what sort of things she’d hope to barter in exchange, I had no idea. And as long as I only smiled, I would continue to have no idea.

“Excellent. Because I hope to never flee from redcaps again. Of all the ways to die, being murdered for the sake of it lacks any of the unwarranted resentment I demand. Come, let’s see if our errant adventurer does any better.”

“Alrighty!~”

Satisfied by our entrance, I duly turned towards the corridor’s end. 

Here, neither a wonky door nor a crumbling archway awaited our judging.

It was instead something far more practical. A wide gap bordered by jagged rock and patches of grass still clinging onto soil as the castle itself abruptly ended. The hole led into the mountainside. And also the caves beyond. 

Goblin caves.   

A place less appropriate for me than the common inns I slept in. And not only because of the promise of narrow tunnels, damp earth and ceaseless mud.

“Uuuunnnnnnngghhhhhh.”

Rather … it was because of that.

A pained, guttural groan. An echoing cry so wreathed in agony and despair that ghouls freshly plucked from their graves had less cause for complaint.

I raised my arms in exasperation.

“What manner of horrific undead is that?”

“It might be a zombie with a stomach ache. That happens if you eat the wrong kind of moss cake.” 

“Well, I hope they quietly recover in a corner, then! Traversing a goblin cave is quite punishing enough. Let’s be swift about this. And if you see any undead with stomach aches, ignore them. With luck and my angelic aura, they’ll ignore us as well.”

“I don’t think anybody in recorded history has ever tried that.”

Coppelia giggled. I hardly saw why. 

Whatever this wayward adventurer hoped to achieve, I would do better. 

I was a princess, and I was nothing if not excellent at setting precedents. Willingly, if not quite enthusiastically, entering a goblin cave would be one of them. 

But leaving with a gentle and wholly satisfied smile? 

… Why, that was quite another.

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[Part 1] [Part 2 (Subpart 1/2)] [Previous] Sorry, there were more than 2 sub parts of Part 2 due to some posting and commenting issues, but this is all of the story until Part 3 is posted.

This is also posted at Royal Road https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/98005/the-sun-rock-incident/chapter/1966943/the-sun-rock-incident-part-2-human-perspective

The Sun Rock Incident was a product of wild misunderstandings between those involved over a planet with an incredible resource: solarium, or sun rocks as humans call them. It turns out, humans are so alien to aliens who have never even known of mammals that their minds try to make sense of them using the familiar; worsening an already bad situation.

This entry is the human perspective on what happened in part 1, but also on what happened before and after that story.

TW: >!There is a sprinkling of cuss words in some of these entries and there may also be some material that sensitive people will not like. The humor got a little dark once I started writing this one and instead of deleting it, I decided to just proceed with caution.!<

The Duo Find Themselves On All That Shines' Bridge...

"Good, you two are here." Commander Smith stared at the operatives warily, a solemn look darkening the mood on the ship's bridge. "Stella, patch a live feed of us here in this room to The Zan."

The Ship AI complied "...It is done, Sir."

The commander pointed to the bridge monitors, images on which showed mysterious objects in orbit around the world known to humankind and their inventions as Sunrock. "Angel-L.I.N.E went into ghost mode shortly before we arrived, having detected these surrounding the planet aswell as two unknown objects barely in our sensor range at the edge of this star system."

"So, she didn't want to make a move on the ones near the planet until she knew what was further out?", Carmen pondered out loud as she wandered over for just a moment to check a display attached to a console that had been decrypting and translating what would eventually just amount to basic text messages from a network AI that had for some reason seen fit to cover up its behavior and hide. "...I'm going to guess that whatever surrounds Sunrock shows no signs of having any weapons powered up." 'Angel-L.I.N.E' wasn't known to be a hesitant AI guardian, normally making short work of any non-human creation or thing it didn't like entering its assigned star system.

"It's likely a surveillance network. They are spread out evenly enough to give someone full coverage of the planet. But there are a handful more scattered in loose formations midway between the edge of this system and Sunrock. Its like they wanted to cast a wide net but focused on the planet." Smith paused for a moment to let what he said sink in. "I know you two and Zan gave me your reports earlier, but our base here on the planet received additional word from another team of field operatives while we were gone. Some of our xeno associates noticed someone attempting to send a clandestine communication from the trade station you three escaped from to someplace in the Galactic Core. Needless to say, they weren't keen on confronting and pressing them for more information, only passing what they found along."

Diego raised an armored hand to hold an armored chin. "So we caused a ruckus and someone found that interesting, and they may or may not be connected to the same people who tried to kidnap us....Does that have something to do with what is going on here? Could anyone have sent that message then have us beaten back to our own base? How would they even trace us here?"

The Zan's AI weighed in with its own favored calculation, "Might I suggest that they sent different groups in a concerted attack? The ones at the trade station sent a different group to find me than they did Carmen and Diego, then attacked all three of us with a ship that had just hung around like any other starship until we tried to escape. Maybe this is just a group sent to attack us here while we seem weak."

The commander leaned forward in his chair as if an important detail capable of clarifying matters might pop into view if he dared it by staring at a monitor long and hard enough. "We don't know anything other than the fact that Operatives Miller and Sexton were shown in an image attached to the message and that it mentioned two humans were being observed for the purpose of adding to an ongoing effort to collect data on Humanity. And while we have had encounters here in this system before with probes, this is too much of a coincidence for my liking."

The console display flashed red and its speakers beeped harshly as if offended to have been overlooked and forgotten. All That Shines' AI responded with alarm. "Two warp bubbles have been detected by both myself and Angel-L.I.N.E. It appears as if the two farther out of the unknown objects are moving away from their positions. We will be overtaken before we can descend down to the planet or warp away should we try."

Commander Smith responded "Understood, Stella. Notify and patch through to all stations."

Another round of screen flashes and angry beeps preceded the AI's next announcement. "The two objects have arrived, Sir. My scans indicate a large vessel directly in front of us and a small one near the loose, midway network of what we assume to be surveillance drones." A couple of bridge monitors turned on, bringing the potential threat to life before all viewers throughout the comparatively small human-made ship as the video showcased a hulking monster of a spacecraft. "Sir...I may not be even close to the size of the biggest carrier craft that Humanity has, but that 'thing' is big enough to swallow me five times and appears to be heavily armed with energy-based weapons...."

The commander and every other human onboard all straightened their backs. "What else can you get me on them? Configuration? Origin...?"

"My scans are ongoing, Sir, but none of what I have shows up in my databases. If I had to make a guess by the size of the unknown vessels, one is an exploratory or transport craft and the other is an escort, maybe even an armed carrier with dozens of war-" A hail signal from the comms station interrupted the AI briefly..."The larger spaceship is hailing us."

"Answer it and run our translation software." The commander forced himself to relax and sit back straight in his chair, while Carmen and Diego quickly moved to position themselves to stand beside him, tensed to full height in their power armor.

The main screen of the bridge and a smaller one to the side of it revealed two more bridges of strange, alien design as three separate ships peered into each other. A gigantic insect-like figure built like a living tank from some hellish nightmare stood in the middle of a raised central platform on the bridge of the larger xeno vessel, its thick chitin-plated body shining like gold edged with crimson on All That Shines main screen. On the second display, a much smaller insectoid stood in front of a screen on the bridge of the smaller companion vessel of the larger, its chitin plating a much more plain and less eye-catching single shade of green. Surrounding both figures appeared to be various shapes and colors of insect crewmen.

Smith took a deep breath before addressing what he assumed were two alien commanders, daring to look into the face of the larger, more monstrous-appearing one. "I am Matthew James Smith, captain of the human starship 'All That Shines' and commander of the Terran Outbound Exploration Company. These two beside me are my two right hands, research assistants Carmen and Diego. To whom do we owe the pleasure of speaking? We apologize deeply if our software fails to properly and honorably provide an adequate translation."

The other bridges seemed to stand still, as if the xenos had become frozen in place while trying to comprehend what he had said. Eventually, Living Tank From Some Hellish Nightmare opened its sharp-looking mandibles wide to speak. "This be General-Max Yohargay of vee-vuh Kaytibid Empire, be-honored minion of Her Majesty vee-vuh good Great Broodmother on Top, commander of vee-vuh starship Top's Will and be-acting commander of vee-vuh starship Taivga. You be-intrude on Kaytibid space and be-dare be-permit a larva to be-account for you? What be vee-vuh meaning of this foul mockery? Be-answer me now or I will be-pull each and every one of your kind apart all nice and slow until you be-do, be-starting with your precious offspring be-sitting there be-playing commander!"

The commander nearly jumped clear of his chair, steadying himself before he could topple over. He pressed and held down a button on his command chair, muting All That Shines' end of the conversation for the time being and looked for a moment at Carmen and Diego, both whom were much younger and bore absolutely no resemblance to him at all in their armor especially when he was just sitting there as a flesh and blood human. "What the literal hell?" They glanced both his way and each others.

"I can't say I see the resemblance Sir, in or out of our suits, but the rest of that garbled mess sounded like a threat to me and that means-" Diego couldn't finish his sentence before the console display from earlier on had a third fit.

All That Shines' AI spoke up, sounding pleased "Angel-L.I.N.E is leaving Ghost Mode."

A second hail signal only got in one beep from the comms station before being picked up by the eager AI without any orders.

"...Connection Attempt Successful [Communication Protocols: Text to Speech, Visuals, Audio] [Communication Style: Default Angel-L.I.N.E]...All That Shines, this is Angel-L.I.N.E (Angel-Linkway.Intelligence.Network.Enforcement) of Angel Linkway System calling in. I am patching through to you my node live feeds and preparations for this encounter. Any orders or suggestions, Commander?"

Carmen returned to the console display and gave it a look over; then turned, nodded, and offered a soft chuckle to the commander and Diego, a wide evil grin forming hidden under her bug helmet. "She is about to unleash it all, Sir. All defensive modes. Blazing Suns, Full Cavalry, Rip and Tear....I don't know our enemy, but I'd play these odds."

The patch came through, filling up the remaining monitors on All That Shines' bridge, all of them having to split their image to show video from each node in the Angel Linkway System. Staring out and taking as much of the scene in as he could, Smith replied "As would I, Operative." ... "Angel-L.I.N.E, hail them after my next communication if they do not leave and give them a warning. I would like to prevent a diplomatic incident if we can and keep our secrets secret. We have to play this straight for Main Command, even if I personally wish we would just blast these guys to the other side. If they don't leave or decide to become directly aggressive, then I trust you know what to do about that."

"Very well, Commander. I will start to activate our defenses but will wait for your requested conditions for the go ahead." It didn't look likely that the network AI would miss out on putting on a good show and if any human on the commander's ship was completely honest, they would say that the probable outcome was the expectation.

Audio caught speech from the monster-sized ship's bridge as a bug officer clicked in its tongue to its superior., "Sir, our sensors be-are be-picking up one anomaly."

The being calling itself General-Max Yohargay turned to the screen. "Be-make one move, I be-dare you vermin."

The commander's finger moved away from the mute button and he and his two armored operatives threw back their heads and almost split their sides laughing out loud. No, the boneless buckets of chitin would 'be-get' their choice. Finally, Smith stopped long enough to address the xeno general-max. "You called me a larva, right? I am no larva or whatever your young may be, I am actually older than my assistants here. And mockery? Playing commander?...Going to harm our people? WE have been here five whole cycles while YOU haven't been here any the whole time! WE have stakes here now, SIR! What makes you think that YOU have any business threatening humans? Here or anywhere?! YOU have another thing coming now if YOU do not answer ME!"

"Arrogant fragment of-" A beep from the other side of the screen interrupted the big wig alien whom was absolutely wigless. "Who be be-hailing us, Vocalizer-Max?"

"Sir, I be-can not be-tell by our readings precisely where vee-vuh hail be be-coming from. It be like it be be-coming from all directions at once. I be-hate to be-admit it, but this be a first for me even in all my cycles be-doing this work."

"Be-answer it anyways."

"Yes Sir. It be be-coming in now."

The xeno commander seemed to almost be anxious as it waited for the hail, shifting around like it was getting impatient. 'She' would be there soon enough. A smirk crossed the faces of all those it could on All That Shines, and knowing The Zan as they did; both Carmen and Diego knew to expect a drawing of one either on display when they got back to it or when someone found one hidden in its ship logs.

The General-Max finally tried to speak. "Identify you-"

"Connection attempt successful. Communication protocols activated: [Translations: Galactic English / Kaytibid Click-Clack] [Communication Types: Text to Speech Communication Only] [Communication Style: Stone Cold Bitch]. Commencing..."

"...Intruder vessel, I am Angel-L.I.N.E (Angel-Linkway.Intelligence.Network.Enforcement), chief artificial intelligence of this sector of space. I noticed you when you intruded on my associated human masters' space. I warn you now to leave because you threaten my masters and their charges, which by extension are my charges. Leave or face the consequences of your actions. How do you respond?"

The plain green insectoid facing them in the smaller xeno vessel clicked "So vee-vuh probes we sent out before we even arrived...."

"Floating ruined in space. Gone by my 'hands'. Your drones will float too. Only technology that I use, choose to allow, or am ordered by my masters to allow is permitted here."

Plain Green pulled itself up to its full height, spread its claws and started opening and closing its mandibles rapidly like scissor blades. It clicked and clacked in a low frequency still picked up by human craft. "Curses...this be bad. If we be-do not be-do something vee-vuh Taivga will be all but blind aside from her in ship sensors and scans. Not to mention vee-vuh be-scraping off of carapaces my crew and me be be-going to be-receive when we be-get back to a military base."

Its commander on the other, much bigger ship "Top's Will" as they had called it, seemed to scoff back. "You observer types be all vee-vuh same, always be-wanting to be-sneak around and be-observe but hardly ever be-get into vee-vuh thick of it unless you be be-dragged in. Be-get your cowards straight and be-take our enemies on if you be-wish to be-save your precious drones. In fact, that be an order. We will be-find this abomination of a mockery of life out there and be-snuff it out."

"I would apologize if I actually could or would bother to care.", The voice of the AI remarked coldly, much to the contrasting mirth of those hearing it from the bridge of All That Shines and throughout the rest of that ship.

The lights of the bridge of the xeno vessel "Taivga" could be seen flashing red as if an major alert was coming in. Good news, but surely not to the unenviable officer who jumped like a surprised cartoon character on that little ship's bridge. "Sirs...there be an unbelievable spike in energy be-going off all around us!"

All hell seemed to let loose on the alien bridges as the enemy lost all semblance of order, either falling over each other as they freaked out or fighting to stand just to avoid losing consciousness. Cartoon Character made a good show of managing to drag its likely dizzy self up off the bridge floor by its claws to reach what must have been its post. "Warp gates everywhere, Sirs! Vessels be-bearing human energy signatures have appeared! They be be-surrounding us en masse!"

"Humans and my kind prefer to call them link gates because of the whole chain we successfully established and hid from the likes of you.", the so-called 'abomination' corrected the alien officer nonchalantly.

Untranslatable gibberish, presumably foul language in nature, flowed through the wide open mandibles of both Plain Green and Plain Green's superior.

"Oh, and General-Elite Yohargay?" The AI dead-panned. "Wrong choice."

***************************************************************************************************************

Showdown After Hails End...

Commander Smith watched as the last bit of glow dimmed from the nodes of the Angel Linkway System. This was it. All help that was going to come through the linkway gates had arrived and now the portals were powering down. Swift combat craft much larger than a standard fighter broke away from their fellow new arrivals and raced their way to his own starship.

The system took on a pleasant, assuring tone "Commander, these are unmanned vessels piloted by me alone. They will provide cover for you should you distance yourself from the enemy or need to escape."

His own ship's AI spoke up "Sir, I detect more unknown objects emerging from the bigger enemy spaceship. I am trying to scan them, but there appears to be some sort of interference."

"Commander, I think we should take Angel-L.I.N.E up on that offer. If Stella was right about that being a massive carrier, then those objects are ships and our own fighters are going to need backup support." Diego found an empty bridge chair a ways from that of his leader. Carmen soon joined him nearby, things were about to get rocky and they would both rather be sitting than standing when it did.

"Move us out and put us behind our new friends, Stella." Smith had no intent of running away from battle while everyone else was fighting only to return later.

All That Shines made its way from the point of its confrontation with the enemy, passing allied warships as they powered up their weapons and joined the network's acquired vessels. "Angel-L.I.N.E has forwarded us a connection to Sunrock Base. Should I take the call?"

"Go ahead, and pick it up whenever they or the warships try to communicate with us."

"...Commander Smith, this is Base Operator Davis calling in. We have visuals on all those suckers in orbit and are prepared to make them dust."

"Proceed with that, the fewer eyes the asses have the better."

The lead of the human warships hailed them "All That Shines, this is Francis Gary Madison, captain of 'Star Strike' and commander of the fleet 'Wrath of Sol'. We are in position and commencing our attack."

"Understood Commander Madison, thank you and your fleet." Smith continued to look out into space. "Stella-"

"Command-, oops sorry to interrupt Sir, but I have completed my scan. They are indeed ships, fifty of them now to be precise. We ourselves are now as far as we can safely be while still providing support. Should we release our own flock?"

"It is time then. Tell the pilots, then release the fighter flock when everything is ready." He paused for a second. "Zan, if you are still listening, you are staying right where you are."

***************************************************************************************************************

Ships of Means...

All That Shines and its crew watched as enemy fighter craft advanced on the human warships' positions. "Sir, point defense and ranged missiles are online. The flock has left my cargo bay and have assembled into formation. Please have someone standby in case I need assistance."

Carmen moved over to a panel with override controls. "Don't worry Stella, me and Diego will take the guns and helm if something happens."

"I am fine with that if the commander is." The ship's AI seemed strangely unconcerned about the prospects of a non-crew member potentially taking some of its controls. Completely calm.

Before Commander Smith could reply, flashes of light pulsed, turning the imagery on All That Shines' screens into a light show where it would be complimented by audio from the lead warship's bridge as its speakers came over their own. The Wrath of Sol had opened up with a mega laser blast into the xeno escort vessel from Star Strike's subordinate ship 'Hell in Hello', its lesser missile systems firing off supporting volleys into a number of the enemy swarm making for it while its laser cooled off. 'Burn Baby Burn' followed up the first hit of the night by firing rapid zaps into the same spot that had been blasted, only to eat the xeno warship's first as it began to return the favor of lighting them up. Beams of energy shot out into the void, dotting up the metal hides of even more ships.

"Star Strike to 'Burn Baby Burn', how do you burn?...'Hell in Hello'?...'Fury Thunder'?...'Fangs of Jane'?"

"Barely warmed our faces, Sir. Shields are at 97 percent still."..."We got 10 percent knocked off just for saying hello."..."95 percent of our thunder left."..."96 percent shielding left. Their own should be worse if we keep it up."

"Its all in, its all in, bitches. Go go go!"

Lasers of all kinds erupted from the 'Hell in Hello', 'Burn Baby Burn', and 'Star Strike' while kinetic rounds tore from rail guns mounted to 'Black Night', 'Flash Hawk', 'Fury Thunder', and 'Fangs of Jane'. A wide pair of lasers swept across the battlefield from Top's Will, closing in on them like a set of cosmic pincers. This was deftly dodged in time to be rewarded by 'Flash Hawk' and 'Fangs of Jane' both making a dive down and along the top of the giant carrier, peppering it with both rail guns and missiles while their friends 'Black Night' and 'Fury Thunder' did the same on the massive ship's underside. More dodges and more dodges were made as the monster vessel kept up its sweeping attacks and spot fires. The three allied laser firing ships kept hitting the same spots in the front of the enemy craft, only to be joined in cutting light fashion action by some of the Angel Linkway System's AI-controlled vessels once about half of the enemy fighters were gone. Receiving so many lasers hits in one area eventually forced Top's Will to shift shields to its front section, allowing the rest of the human warships to make better attacks closer to its rear. Finally, 'Fangs of Jane' did the honors. All of her rail gun rounds bite into Top Will's weakly shielded behind, taking out what appeared to be one of its major engines.

"Star Strike to Wrath of Sol, we are good here. Update us on your status."

"Fangs of Jane here. 50 percent of shields left. We are out of rail rounds and are getting low on missiles."..."Black Night at 60 percent shielding, we are also low on missiles and rail rounds."..."Flash Hawk at 58 percent shielding, also low on everything."..."Fury Thunder at 64 percent shields, rails are low and missiles are out. We are focused on engaging in evasive maneuvering and point defense."..."Burn Baby Burn at 70 percent shields. Lasers going off of cool down in 2 minutes. Plenty of missiles."..."Hell In Hello at 65 percent shielding. Main laser on cool down for 5 more minutes. Point prick lasers coming off cool down in 1 minute. Missiles are good."

"Star Strike to Fangs of Jane, make your way back behind us close to All That Shine and assist from there. Black Night, do the same once you run out of rail rounds."..."Angel Linkway System, generally speaking, how are your ships?"

"Native defenses are engaged against the xeno spacecraft 'Taivga' at Node 5, with borrowings from nearby Node 3, Node 4, Node 6, and Node 7. Shields all are above 60 percent on all native defense ships and the corresponding nodes. All native weapons systems check green. As for the ships I acquired, 20 percent are below 40 percent shielding, 25 percent are around 60 percent shielding, 35 percent are at 50 percent shielding, and the rest are either destroyed or disabled. Laser systems are rotating on and off between ships and missiles range from low to medium supply. Point defenses engaged on all acquired vessels." That was about as 'general' and 'the short of it' a response the commander of Wrath of Sol would expect from an AI.

"Commander Madison, the enemy fighters are amassing on the xeno carrier's flank." A hint of intrigue touched the AI's voice.

"Fangs of Jane here, we can confirm. A group we thought were headed for us as we started moving back just flew right on by."

"What are they-!" Star Strike dodged a laser from the larger vessel as the swarm streaked by overhead and beelined for Commander Smith's ship with about a quarter of the remaining AI-piloted ships in hot pursuit.

All That Shines alerted its crew. "We have company. The whole of the enemy swarm have gathered and are breaking away from their carrier to pursue us."

"That is suicide. What are they thinking?" Carmen couldn't believe their luck.

"Time for us and the fighter pilots to have some 'fun' again, I guess. How many of them are there, Stella?" Diego took a spot near All That Shine's weapon controls.

"There are twenty-five enemy fighters. My point defenses will assist our forces." The ship AI seemed...excited?

"Stella, are you okay?" Smith asked of the very ship he commanded and was sitting on the bridge of, unable to see the look of recognition and concern crossing the face under Diego's black and yellow helmet.

"What are you doing, Stella?" Carmen inquired warily as enemy vessels came up close into view and engaged All That Shines' flock, which seemed to struggle before diving in with odd movements to fire their lasers and guns. Something didn't seem right...why were the fighters moving in such a weird manner? No she did not just....

"It is okay, you three are observing things." The AI sounded joyful as it side-stepped the question completely. An almost girlish giggle came over the bridge speakers as a fighter from the flock rained missiles into about five of the swarm when they flew too close together.

Smith entered a code at a console in front of his command chair, unlocking access to All That Shines' weapons and helm, then muted all outgoing hail audio. "I had thought that we would likely ONLY be doing this in the event of an emergency, Stella. And using the control panel overrides instead. You DO NOT appear to have lost access to your own body...." He gave Carmen and Diego both an almost apologetic look before continuing. "She still has control over herself, but you should be able to assume control of most of her systems if we need you to overstep her." The AI's response to what should have came across as a threat was simply to laugh wickedly as it poured bullets and ever more missiles into the swarm while swiftly jerking and diving the fighters out of enemy fire at speeds that would probably kill a human pilot even with field dampeners.

"Where are the pilots, Stella? Let me talk to the leader." Smith was about to reach for the manual comms controls when the AI obeyed as if nothing was wrong. "They are in my cargo hold still as they arrived too late to have fun. They were pretty surprised but It is safer for them there anyways. I am opening the comms to that area now."

"Commander Smith to cargo hold, do you read me?"

"Hello, Commander...I am still here where you told me to stay." The Zan's AI sounded too preoccupied to simply be sitting there in a cargo bay.

"Oh thank goodness, Sir. We thought the comms were down. The fighter craft are missing. We were about to make our way back to report when you came through....May we ask if everything else is alright, Commander?"

"Yes, Pilot Captain Collins. We had an issue with controls, but everything is fine. You are not in any kind of trouble for the fighters."

"Sir, there has been an awful lot of laughter and whispering from this one starship that is somehow still in here while everything else is gone." Collins eyed The Zan with suspicion.

"Commander, is Stella actually able to control ten fighters from the channels in her cargo bay or from her hails? Would she have that kind of networking capability with everything else coming in?" Carmen was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"No...she wouldn't unless she dropped some controls and devoted more processing to her communications, of which the cargo bay comms link is capped anyways. And we received no notice of outgoing hails to the fighters. She can't even stand it when they just sit idle and link their regular communications to her comms channels." Two laser beams from two of the five laser-wielding fighters criss-crossed to cut open a hapless enemy swarm vessel that had lost its engines and was floating freely in space while still firing its own laser.

"What about Angel-L.I.N.E?" Diego was doubtful, but asked anyways as he watched the network's commandeered vessels zip around firing missiles and the odd laser at the swarm.

"She would have had to have hailed them when they were fully powered up to have pulled that off." The Pilot Captain weighed in, having overheard part of the bridge conversation over the cargo hold comms. He and his fellow pilots crossed their arms and gave The Zan a stern look. "You're busted. What do you have to say for yourself after taking our ships?"

"Two things, one being that I did not take them, half of them were given to me by Stella; whom I did not question. The second being...it was worth it, anyways!" Five fighters dove in all together and beamed searing lasers at a much bigger enemy vessel at the same time. Moments later, they returned to a more practical repeating zap pattern before having their target blown up by a missile shot into the opposite side of the ship by the network AI. The exposed heart of the swarm that had been doing the most damage to the Angel Linkway System's new vessels was gone, leaving only stragglers to pick off, which all three AI hounded relentlessly until they exploded in big balls of fire.

Checking the starry battlefield, the only thing any human or human-made creation could see that was still left out there to kill was the so-called Top's Will. The burnt and blasted ruins of its fighters and small companion vessel the "Taivga" drifted lifelessly within the view of all. "Star Strike to All That Shines, you and your flock pilots did good back there." Commander Madison had not heard the conversations that had been muted on All That Shines side of the screen and could not hear the current groaning and chuckling over there either.

"Sir, the shields of the main target are estimated to be at 15 percent or lower." Star Strike's pilot remarked. The alien spacecraft had ceased firing most of its weapons, likely funneling any power that could be rerouted to its shields and leaving the rest to gradually drain by shooting at Wrath of Sol out of pure spite.

Commander Smith released the mute button on his chair. "All That Shines to Sunrock Base Command, hows things down there?"

"Base Operator Davis here, commander. We've taken no damage, its all been target practice. Those buggers were fast and actually dodged a good number of missiles after hitting us with some interference. Daisy couldn't target them reliably for awhile and neither could her lesser subordinate installations, but we got some cleared out by human hand and eye. We ended up with a good kill count between man and Daisy. Consider them deleted....Sir, is Angel-L.I.N.E -" A familiar pattern of energy readings appeared on sensor scans as the faint glow of link gate nodes drawing power from their generators appeared on screen.

"Star Strike to Angel Linkway System, there weren't any ships left behind when we gated in. Why are you reopening the link ways? Please don't tell me that you are glitching and trying to send us back. We aren't done here...."

"I don't think she is glitching, I remember seeing-" Carmen was interrupted by the AI of the system in question.

"Commanders Madison and Smith, I am sending you and your ships my targeting and trajectory data. Please be advised to stay away from the indicated areas."

"What, you want us to reposition when we...never mind we will try it your way, whatever that is....Commander Smith is this okay? You know your local artificials better than I do."..."Star Strike to Wrath of Sol, move out of the marked areas. Lets not find out the wrong way what the AI here is doing." The human-controlled fleet of warships moved to new locations no shorter of their old ones than they had to go.

"She knows what she is getting done, Commander Madison." Smith's eyes had a glean to them as he realized what Carmen had recalled. "Carmen, Stella...one of you move us out."

Carmen already had her fingers on the inputs, but All That Shines took the command so quick that she couldn't tell who had done what without digging through a log. They all soon found themselves out of the way and awaiting action of some kind, during which time Smith sent out a ship wide notification telling everyone to get to a monitor. He switched the view on displays throughout All That Shines to a live feed that featured video of their final target front and center complete with audio from his ship's bridge to boot.

Diego got up from his seat, let slip his metal claws from their armored gloves, and looked out at the growing radiance of gate nodes. "You know what to do, girl. Just-"

"Rip and Tear until it is done!" Commander Smith and Carmen finished Diego's sentence alongside him. The crew jumped, threw hands into the air, hooted, hollared, and did all other manner of revelry throughout All That Shines before quieting down enough to watch what was going on. Even the flock pilots had been able to get to an area where they were finally allowed to see what was going on outside in time to join the celebration, where they were more than a little glad to learn by word of mouth that the AI of The Zan and All That Shines had followed with all the fighters intact when the "nest" ship moved.

"What the freaking fuck?!" Commander Madison spat out as new alignments of link way chains shot forth from the Angel Linkway System's gate nodes, targeting sections of the giant ship's poorly shielded hull. One by one, the system fully powered up pairs of nodes, a flash of bright light heralding in the stabilization of each new forming warp bubble that flattened and expanded the area of ship around it, contorting and tearing as chunks of xeno wall, floor, and ceiling attempted to make good an escape. Left, right, top, bottom...starting slow then gaining speed as each torn away section just made it easier to push through to find the next vulnerable piece.

Madison shifted in his seat as if the sensation on his butt cheeks might snap him back to another reality or at least help him make sense of this one. "Why-er what?" The enemy spacecraft seemed to warp and churn as it ripped to shreds. Cussing from the other ships under his command filled his comms as each crew dealt with the sight before them as if it wasn't real.

"I am...snuffing the 'abomination' out." The AI laughed coldly as every link gate node activated and grabbed the offending starship at the same time, shattering the remains like broken glass.

Cheers broke out once again onboard All That Shines. Smith stood on his bridge with a grin on his face and clapped. "Good job Angel-L.I.N.E, good job. And good show. Same for all you in Wrath of Sol. Thank you. That will not be the last of them, but we are fine for now. We will be ready."

"You're welcome, but such a show and such readiness is all our duty." Madison had gotten over his shock.

"Such duty is life." The AI added with mirth, apparently as pleased with its elaborate demonstration of overkill as the crew of All That Shines.

Commander Smith just laughed and beamed "The duty to show them that if they fuck around, they find out." No one disagreed; and with that he, his crew, that of The Zan, and those in Wrath of Sol all left for Sunrock Base to prepare to do every big and little thing that would keep it true.