“That’s a hidden boss?” Jace asked, standing over the large corpse. “Nasty fucker. Cool gear, though.”

“You’ve no idea.” Will reached into Spatra’s pocket.

Unfortunately, the only thing that he found there were mirror pieces. Either through luck or design, the mirror fragment had shattered during the fight. Knowing how much control eternity exerted on everything, it was likely that any items there were not meant to be taken, had a tendency to fade or break.

“Would have been nice,” Helen said from a step away. “If you had one, we’d be able to go faster.”

Will said nothing. Ten minutes ago, he was ready to tell her everything about Danny and the mirror fragment he’d gotten. That was before he’d seen how underpowered they were.

“Let’s see what we have,” she tapped the boss’ corpse on the forehead.

Same as with the elites, the body faded away. The ornate spear, on the other hand, remained.

“Finally,” Jace said. “Something that’s not shit.”

It was an honest statement. Yet, with the adrenaline loosening its grip, Will had a few questions.

“How did you get that gun?” he asked.

“Everyone has a secret, Stoner,” the jock replied. “Been working on it for a while. It’s easy to make if you know what you’re doing. Took me longer to find you. With all the crap in the locker rooms, I thought you’d be there.”

“What crap?” Will asked.

“Why there?” Helen asked at the same time.

Slightly confused by the merging of questions, Jace looked at each of them. His mind separated the words of each, processing what was asked.

“It has mirrors,” he told Helen. “Had.” He turned to Will. “Everything’s shattered now.”

“Shattered?”

“Sorry, bro. I was running low on ammo,” Alex said with a sheepish grin. “For real. I thought I’d stock up for the harpy’s office. Was going to wait for you. But then you shouted and…”

“It’s fine.” Will kept on looking at Jace. There was something that made him suspect there was more to it than the jock was telling him about. Such a weapon didn’t just emerge out of nowhere. He’d seen Jace meddle with a gauntlet for several loops, progressing in minuscule increments. The jump he had seen was just too much. “What do we have?”

“What don’t we have?” The jock shook his head. “It’s a unique weapon. Spatra’s Poison Spear. Poison, piercing, indestructible… anti-magic.” He looked up. “That's new. We have magic now?”

The crude and naïve fashion in which he asked the question wasn’t able to diminish the sensation of dread that swept through all of them. No one showed it, but it was a safe bet they were thinking the same thing.

Even since they had entered eternity, it was a given that everything that occurred wasn’t normal. They didn’t call it magic outright since it didn’t match the typical image one had. There hadn’t been mages casting fireballs, fire-breathing dragons, or enchanted creatures. The closest thing that came to magic were Alex’s abilities, but even they had a more scientific nature in a superhero type of way.

This had been the first instance in which magic had openly been mentioned, suggesting that all that had been experienced so far wasn’t.

“Did Danny say anything about magic?” Will asked.

A memory fragment flashed through his mind. He remembered noticing something similar while skimming the school counselor's notes. It had been over the top, like a crazy dream, which was the only reason it had stuck to his mind.

Danniel had mentioned something about going to see a person who juggled fire, but could never get burned by his own. There were a lot of ways to interpret this, most of them disturbing, but if it was a literal description of what the former rogue had seen, then it changed everything.

“He used the term supernatural,” Helen said.

“Nah, bro.” Alex shook his head. “But maybe it was because he was forced to say so. Think about it. Really sus that he wouldn’t mention it even once out of curiosity.”

It was impossible to be certain whether the goofball was being certain, but if this was a joke, no one was laughing.

Danny took a few steps away. As he did, he noticed the hilt of his dagger. The fight had caused a lot of devastation—the floor had been ripped apart, leaving massive sword trails criss-crossing through it. Among the debris were pieces of his weapon. It hadn’t vanished, as the short spears had, suggesting that even in its current state, it remained eternal.

“Jace, can you fix things?” Will bent down and picked up the pieces. There were three in total: the hilt and two pieces of blade.

“Fuck. You got that broken?” The jock shook his head.

“Can you fix it?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t reached the level of you guys.”

“Try.” Will extended his hand with the dagger pieces inside. “Take a few loops if you have to.”

“Okay, man. Whatever you say.”

“Let’s check the locker rooms,” Will said loudly, changing the subject. “Just in case. Then…” he paused for a few moments. “Then we’ll go through the corner shop.”

No hidden mirrors appeared in the locker rooms or Alex’s favorite building. Naturally, he took the opportunity to grab a few snacks while they were there. Will would have joined in if he didn’t feel the dull sensation of pain in his stomach.

By all accounts, he should have been happy. The group was geared up, and they had defeated all but one elite in the school area. What was more, they had found a hidden boss that had dropped a unique weapon. Yet, the more he thought about it, Will wished they hadn’t.

“Jace should take the spear,” he said.

“That’s untypically nice of you, Stoner.” Even the jock sounded surprised. “Are you sure?”

“None of us can use it properly. Maybe you could think of some device to use it properly.”

“You okay, Stoner? Giving me loot, letting me take loops on my own. It’s almost as if you—”

“Bro,” Alex interrupted, knowing what Jace would say. “We can try the harpy’s office. For real. With all four of us and all this, we’ll win for sure.”

Will gave him a stern look.

“Really?” His frown deepened. “I’ve no dagger, we’re exhausted, and you have half a dozen mirror shards at most. The spear is too long to be used in the school, so it’ll be useless as well. A few more loops won’t hurt us.”

All eyes shifted towards Helen. While Will had been acknowledged as the leader of the group, she remained the keyholder, and the most powerful class. Four times out of five, she was the one doing the heavy fighting, with everyone else largely acting as support.

“Will’s right,” she said. “There’s no point in trying now. We got the items, we know how to level up. It’s not a bad idea to spend the next few loops resting.”

“That’s the plan, then,” Jace nodded. “I’ll see what I can do about this and your knife.”

Everyone stood there, waiting for something to happen. Reaching a point in which they had to wait for the loop to end on its own felt unnatural. Initially, there was a sense of anxiousness, like waiting for a bus that was arriving late. After a while, the sensation faded away, replaced by calm.

The group decided to go back onto the school roof and just look at the stars, chatting about things that didn’t matter. For a brief moment of time, there was no talk of skills and monsters, no delving into secrets, and, above all, no eternity.

“Bros, this is lit,” Alex said. “We should do this more often.”

“Muffin boy, just give it a rest,” Jace laughed. “The fuck will I want to go through all this again?”

More laughter followed.

Restarting eternity.

The sound cars of honking filled the air. Children were going to school as usual. In a matter of moments, Jess and Ely would pass by, calling him a weirdo. Maybe even Alex would appear eating a muffin. Will never got a chance to find out, rushing into school as if he were running away from something.

The first thing he did was enter the boys’ bathroom and get his class. Then the hard part came.

“You’re a bastard,” he hissed, staring at his own reflection. “Danny, I challenge you.”

CLASS DUPLICATION!

Only one rogue can be present.

Freezing eternity.

The reflection changed.

“I knew you’d be back,” Daniel said. “Fighting eternity isn’t as easy as you thought, is it?”

“Tell me about magic.”

“Magic?” Surprise flickered through Daniel’s face. It was subtle, but Will was able to see his eyes widen a fraction and the corners of his mouth point down. “What do you want to know about that?”

“I thought you knew everything.”

“I know enough, which is a lot more than you. And magic isn’t something you should mess with.”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” Will moved closer to the mirror. “We found an item that has magic protection. Tell me what’s magic?”

“You really came upon that?” There was more surprise than mockery in Daniel’s voice. “Lucky you. But—” he raised a finger in the air “—this time you’ll have to pay for it. No more freebies.”

“I can just walk out.”

“Then you’ll never unlock the final mirror or finish the tutorial. Remember, I’ve got more than knowledge to offer.”

Will didn’t reply.

“Why so stubborn? You don’t have a choice. Sooner or later, you’ll get crushed. So, you’ve got a few more items. Big deal. They’ll only make things more painful as they’re taken from you. Get me out of here and both of us will win.”

Last time the offer was made, Will had refused. It wasn’t just about the tutorial. The last thing he wanted was a version of Danny out there. By the sound of things, the former rogue hadn’t seen anything of what had happened in the gym. As far as he was concerned, Will’s conversation with Helen, the hidden boss, and the unique spear had never happened.

“If I get you out of here, what then?” he asked.

“Nothing much. I get to be in the fragment and you get answers to all your questions. Everything I’ve learned will become yours.”

“I know you’re lying. Once you’re out, you won’t tell me a thing.”

“Well, I’ll need a bit more incentive, but nothing you couldn’t handle. The choice is really simple: do you want to pass the tutorial or not?”

“And let you leech on me?”

“Leech? You think you’re funny, shithead? I’ll be in the fragment. The only way to even talk to me is to challenge me again, which you will do. Even with the mirror unlocked, you’ll have trouble down the road.”

“And you’re okay with just that?”

“Will, you’ve no idea what it’s like to be stuck in eternity. None of the loops you play about really stick. If you get me out of here, I’ll be part of the world again, even if for ten minutes per loop.” He cracked his fingers. “We both know you’ll make the deal. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t in your best interest.”

As unpleasant as it was to admit, Danny was right. Will didn’t see any way forward for the group, which was why it had come to this. Even now, he was looking for the smallest pretext to walk off and leave the former classmate stuck in the bathroom mirror. Things would be a lot simpler and, above all, there was no risk of Helen ever finding out. Sadly, this wasn’t a deal he could avoid making.

“You’ll help us pass the tutorial,” he said. “And help out when I’m in trouble.”

“Lethal trouble—yes,” Daniel agreed. “Anything else, we’ll have to make further arrangements. Don’t worry, though. It’ll be nothing that you can’t handle.”

“I bet.” Will took the mirror fragment and pressed it against the mirror.

Eternity restored.

A message appeared. Behind it was nothing else than the bathroom’s reflection, with Will standing in front. As far as everyone—even eternity itself—was concerned, the former rogue never existed.

Will pulled back the mirror fragment and looked at both sides. There was no indication on it that anything was out of the ordinary. The boy could feel it, though—the unpleasant sticky feeling as if gum had stuck to the sole of his shoe. There was no getting rid of Daniel now. His only hope was that the deal he made was worth it.

< Beginning | | Previously... |

Rickard awoke with a start. He had set an alarm, but his malicious mind had turned coat and woken him in advance. He dressed, eschewing the spacesuit. Well-worn jeans, gray T-shirt with two oil stains on the sleeve, suspenders, trucker’s hat. He brushed his teeth and spat onto the ground outside his tent. He couldn't wait until they sorted proper plumbing.

He contemplated going to Nina's tent and waking her but figured the probability that got him shot was unacceptably high. Instead, he went to the mess tent and helped himself to a bowl of nutrient paste with greedy helpings of artificial cherry and maple.

As he sat at one of the long tables allocated to the not-rich, he mused that this might be the last time he ate nutrient paste. Nina might let him fabricate a Michelin-star-quality banquet for lunch. That was one of the neat things about the fabricator: it only cared about mass for mass. It didn't care for quality or complexity; so long as you could design it, the world's best steak covered in gold leaf—if you willed—was no harder than a bowl of gruel of the same mass.

After Rickard had finished his paste, he sat and waited. Dr. Fusō was the first to enter. Based on her bloodshot eyes, she hadn't slept well, and her mood only corroborated that.

"Good morning," he wished her.

She grunted in return, filled a bowl, didn't even bother with flavor, and marched back out of the tent.

"I guess she’s still upset with me," he told his empty bowl.

Not long afterwards, Colonel Sharman and Dr. Hayward appeared. They grabbed food and plunked themselves down opposite him. Rickard shared the good news about the fabricator, and together they fantasized collectively about everything they were going to eat.

“Fresh artichokes with a gallon of melted butter, followed by gumbo spicy enough to make you feel it the next morning, followed by mangosteens and triple chocolate cake,” Hayward was contributing as Nina and Alta entered the tent, followed by Canary. The Krejovs sat themselves in comfortable chairs—comparatively speaking—at a smaller table the other end of the tent, and waited as their guard-cum-chef put together an Eggs Benedict for them.

“Probably should have asked them how much they had left,” Rickard told Helen and Alex. "Given that I'll be able to fabricate anything they want going forward, I'm sure they could have spared a few plates."

"Nah," Helen said, punching his arm jovially, "we couldn't have this wonderful paste going to waste, could we?"

He laughed, and they continued to chat as he waited for Nina to finish her breakfast.

Eventually, she did. The moment she rose to her feet, Rickard was beside her.

"Good morning, Ms. Krejov. Please, let me do you the honor of escorting you to the fabricator."

Her finely manicured eyebrows pinched together, before she relaxed, smiled, and chuckled. “You know, your boundless patience was why I hired you.”

Rickard smiled back and bit his tongue. None of the fifty retorts that came to mind would help. “Great. Let's go.”

He led her out of the mess tent, followed by the astronaut and the doctor at a curious-but-respectable distance. Outside, her other guard appeared at her side, no doubt summoned by Canary on her aug-phone. And the five of them marched over to the fabricator.

Rickard went to the console to ready a design, but the display wouldn’t turn on.

“What the?” he mumbled to himself, trying the button thrice more. Nothing. “Er, sorry, one sec.”

“Oh Mr. Carfine, you do know how to put on a show,” Nina said.

He grabbed a screwdriver from his toolbag and pried off the casing around the display. Connectors were in place, cables intact. No reason for it not to work. He then pressed the button to lift the input window. It didn’t budge.

“Power’s out,” he told himself.

“You haven’t broken another nuclear reactor?” Nina accused him.

He bit back another fifty retorts, chief among them that the last broken reactor had been her fault, and climbed under the fabricator. He kicked his way across the ashen ground, and reached up into the power module, his fingers nimbly navigating in and around by touch alone.

The reactor receiver was empty. His hands danced along the transfer conduit to the transit enclosure. Empty, too.

The reactor was gone.

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Humans are Weird – Boom, Boom, Boom

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-boom-boom-boom

“The air itself tasted of the eternal.

The sky split and opened.

Fire lanced across space itself.

The immortal touched the child, and both cried out for the beauty.”

Prince Triclick rubbed his sensory horns ruefully as he finished chanting the poem and cast a final glance over where the silverwings were stored. The graceful long distance transports normally sat in the open field in tastefully arranged clusters around their maintenance sheds. Each one would be anchored with a graviton tether more than strong enough to keep it on the ground even in its passive mode. That is how he had always arranged his wings on his home colony, and that is how he had lost the majority of this colony’s silverwings. A shame that had nearly cost his family the rights to develop this world.

Now the graceful curve of each leading edge of the beautiful craft was shoved under the trailing edge of the one in front of it. Thick cables that couldn’t help but bite into and damage the sensitive sensors that impregnated the flight surfaces crossed over and extended wing surfaces. Over all this, to protect everything from the chaos approaching from the north, northeast the human had thrown a hyper-insulating tarp. The dullest grey surface you could imagined covered the whole in a tight wrap. Each graviton tether was fully activated and the whole thing resembled some humming isopod that had escaped from a world with far less gravity and peace of mind. Seven such monstrosities were lined up at a respectful distance from the next so that if one line of protection failed the rest wouldn’t be damaged.

“That was beautiful,” Ranger Smith said, the admiration vibrating up through Prince Triclick’s feet and drawing his attention back to the present moment.

At least the power of the human’s voice made his sensory horns stop tingling, Prince Triclick thought with a rueful grimace.

“Who wrote it again?” the human asked.

“When she wrote it her name was Thrity-Five Flaps,” Prince Triclick explained. “The entire poem cycle earned her the right to a smaller name and she recorded her next names as Fifteen Trills.”

The human nodded and grunted as he bent down and with an almost terrifying display of force lifted the remaining tarp and began striding back to the main tent that was sheltered in among the trees.

“So you do get thunderstorms on your homeworld?” Private Smith asked.

“None like that,” Prince Triclick stated, glaring back over his shoulder at the black bank of clouds that was gradually surging towards them from the north.

“But you do have some, or how could What’s her Flap have written that poem cycle,” the human pressed eagerly.

Prince Triclick gave a little sigh of relief as they passed under the dense canopy of the forest proper and the potent electrostatic energy began to dissipate in the movement of the branches. .

“We do,” he agreed, “but they are vanishingly rare. The one that inspired that particular poetry was the result of a meteor shower of heavily ionizing fragments.”

The human bobbed his head eagerly as he listened. Private Smith was clearly enjoying this story immensely and Prince Triclick sound himself getting into it as well despite the ominous feeling caused by the approaching storm. They reached the main tent, the one used as a cafeteria and general meeting place just as he was describing how the meteor shower had disrupted power over half a continent.

“Yo!” a rough voice called out. “Stow the tarps and help us secure the edges! The auto cinch failed!”

“Sorry sir!” Ranger Smith said, carefully but quickly boosting the prince from his shoulder. “I gotta get this!”

Prince Triclick mentally licked down his irritation, he really had been at the best part of the story and it rubbed his fur all wrong to end it there, but duty was duty no matter what your species was, and he flapped up to a handy perch. He considered going back to his office, but it shouldn’t take the humans very long to finish cinching down the edges of the tent manually and perhaps Ranger Smith would like to hear the rest of the story while the current storm raged among the uppermost branches of the forest. Prince Triclick pulled out a portable data pad and began working on a few low priority tasks while keeping one ear perked for the sound of Ranger Smith’s footsteps. However he had finished several tasks by the time Sargent Holt strode in announcing that all the hatches were battened, whatever that meant, and he was getting a drink and starting a fire.

Prince Triclick did not like the sound of any of that, from the metaphor he clearly didn’t know, to the concept of a human mixing alcohol and fire, even if they were each in their proper place, but he knew better by now than to attempt to interfere with a determined Holt. Just then the first flash of lightening came through the transparent sections of the tent and Prince Triclick clenched his jaw to keep from shuddering as the massive rolling boom of the thunder followed it. He almost succeeded. The first crack was louder than the team had calculated and overwhelmed the sound dampening layers in the tent.

There was a general start as the majority of the Winged in the tent took to the air and sought out their particular human friend. A general and gentle murmur followed as the humans opened their outermost layer at the chest to let their particular Winged friends find that extra layer of insulation provided by their bodies and their coats. Holt glanced over at Prince Triclick and lifted a great flap invitingly. Prince Triclick eyed the place uncertainly for a moment, he would rather wait for Ranger Smith. However the lightening flashed again, closer now, and Prince Triclick darted for the protective space before the following sound wave could hit.

The insulation on the tent meant that he couldn’t hear the first drops of precipitation strike the roof and for that he was grateful as he snuggled into the soft material of Sargent Holt’s coat. The engineers insisted that shoving your sensory horns into a natural material to mute the sound of thunders storms was a far inferior method to the sound cancelers they developed, but then engineers were rather thick in the skull in Prince Triclick’s opinion. As soon as the sound rolled away he peeled his still stinging sensory horns away from Holt’s coat and blinked up at him.

“Have you seen Ranger Smith?” Prince Triclick asked. “He wished me to finish a story for him.”

Holt nodded.

“Doubt you’ll be able to finish it before the end of the storm,” Holt said.

“And why is that?” Prince Triclick asked.

“Smith is out in the sheds with the rest of the storm watchers,” Holt said jerking his chin towards the rear of the tent.

Prince Triclick blinked up at him in shock. He almost missed the next lightening flash.

“The sheds are nearly uninsulated!” Prince Triclick burst out. “The noise level-”

“That’s just why they like it,” Holt interrupted, bringing his jar of frothy fermented liquid to his lips before expanding on that nonsense.

“Remember humans aren’t as noise sensitive as you wingy folk,” Holt continued, “and lots of humans like the sound of rain. Can’t hear that at all in the insulated bits.”

Prince Triclick pondered this as he ducked his head once more to press his sensory horns into the material of Holt’s coat. When the wave of sound passed, he thought it took longer this time, he looked up at Holt again.

“You are claiming,” he began, “that more than one human would rather spend a storm in an unheated, uninsulated storage shed having their eardrums blasted and there electroreceptors tingled rather than spend it by the-” he glanced over at the fireplace and the primitive nature of that stopped him.

Perhaps there was a bit of inconsistency in being shocked at the one behavior, and passing over the madness of insisting on having a fire in a forest in a storm. Holt gave a chuckle and gestured with his fermented drink at the fire that cracked and sent out a wave of sparks.

“Hey,” he said, “we ain’t all nuts like that.”

He raised the drink to his lips and took a long drought. Prince Triclick stared up at him and felt his astonishment bleed out into a sigh.

“No,” he agreed. “Not like that.”

Another flash came and he tucked his sensory horns back into the coat.

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Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

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Beginning • Previous

When I was found in the alley, I couldn’t make out who had lifted me from the trash heap. My eyes were caked with layers of filth, sealing them almost completely shut. But I could never forget the voice of my savior—it was Jimmy’s.

“Oh, you don’t look as dead as the others,” Jimmy’s voice broke through the darkness. “Shame I can only bring one of you back. Alright, little one, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I remember being bundled in something warm and soft before being washed in a tub. Jimmy scrubbed my fur and eyes clean with soap and warm water, dissolving the crusted filth that had blinded me. For the first time in days, I could breathe without the stench of decay clinging to me. Afterward, he dried me off with a towel, swaddled me in a blanket, and held me close like I was something precious. Like my life mattered to another being.

“What do you think we should name him?” a different voice asked. It wasn’t Jimmy’s—it was lighter, softer. When I opened my eyes for the first time, I saw Alan’s almond-shaped, dark brown eyes gazing down at me, filled with curiosity and a warmth I had never known.

“Everyone has to do their part on the ship, right?” Jimmy said with a grin. “How about Page? He could be everyone’s little helper—always ready when you need him.”

“Yeah, I like that name,” Alan said, a smile spreading across her face. “Page… Page…”

XXXXX

“Page, are you there? You have to wake up.”

A sharp, acrid odor tore into my nostrils. The jolt shot through me like lightning, forcing my body into motion. My body shuddered from the jarring sensation. My eyes blinked against the sudden flood of light, and the first thing I saw was Flynn’s face, his eyes wide and whiskers twitching with visible relief.

“Oh, good! You’re alive,” he said, holding a vial so tiny it looked as though it had been crafted from a single shard of glass, perfectly suited for a rat’s nimble paws. “Curious?” he added, when he caught my stare. “Just a bit of wake-up juice…”

“Do I even want to know what’s in it?”

Flynn’s chuckle was light but amused, his tiny shoulders shaking. “Oh, just vinegar. Simple and effective.”

A sudden, acrid tang erupted in my mouth, making me gag. I hissed, my fur bristling as I spat, trying to rid myself of the lingering foulness. It wasn't the vinegar, but the bitter residue of the Soul Cleanser that Marlow had thrust into my throat.

“There's no time to joke around!” Marlow scolded. “We need to go!”

“He’s right. We need to get out of here,” Flynn urged, nudging my side with surprising strength for his size.

On shaky legs, I rose and took in the devastation around me. Lee continued his wild circuit around the room, always one step ahead of Dr. Starkey and Alan, their outstretched hands always just missing him, swiping at empty air. The room was a battlefield—overturned shelves spilled jagged shards of glass, shattered vials glistened in puddles of unknown liquids, and torn fabric littered the floor and toppled furniture lay in ruin.

Then I saw it—the wraith. It was slithering across the debris-strewn floor toward the dark corner where Ziggy lay in a basket. His bandaged legs sprawled limp, his head lolled back, and a faint snore wheezed from his open mouth, unaware of the encroaching threat.

There was no sense in trying to fight the wraith; every blow would slip through it like punches in a fog. Gritting my teeth, I gathered what strength remained in me and sprinted toward Ziggy, my paws skidding over shards of broken glass and splinters strewn in my path.

“Ziggy! Ziggy, please wake up!” I shouted, propping myself against the basket and leaning over Ziggy. I gave him a slap. “ZIGGY!”

With a sudden start, he blinked awake, lazily swiping his tongue over the drool at the corner of his mouth. When his eyes met mine, his face slowly brightened. “Page! You’re alive! I thought you were a goner. That was a big…a big…kaboom!”

“Yes, I'm alive. But I don’t have much time to explain,” I said, frantically. “You need to get up and follow me.”

He blinked, trying to focus. “Of course, my dear brother… I'll go wherever you go…” His voice trailed off and his head lolled as he began to doze off again.

“ZIGGY!” I cried more desperately now. “Please, wake up! There’s no time—we need to go!”

He glanced down at his bandaged legs, and said, “I'm not sure if I even have the strength.”

Ziggy yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. Slowly, he dragged himself out of the basket, wincing as he limped toward the door. But before he could reach it, his body betrayed him. His legs gave way, and he crumpled to the floor; the vet’s sleeping drug was still coursing through his veins and had pulled him into another deep sleep.

The wraith crept nearer to his limp body. Rusty charged forward, the razor blade in his paws flashing in a deadly arc as he lifted it over his head then down. The blade sheared through the wraith’s bony arm. The creature hissed. Thick, tar-like ooze gushed from the gaping wound, staining the floor in sticky pools as the wraith reared back, momentarily disoriented.

Rusty raised the blade for another swing, but a sudden force slammed into him, sending him flying across the room. The razor blade skittered out of reach.

“Oh, great! Now we have rats too?” Dr. Starkey exclaimed, exasperation etched into her face. She groaned in irritation as she swung the broom high, ready to strike Rusty's motionless body again.

She froze mid-swing as Lee lunged at her, clamping his teeth onto the hem of her pants. Digging his paws into the floor, he tugged with all his might, a low growl rumbling from his throat. His small frame strained against her momentum but managed to halt her just in time, pulling her off balance.

“Ah! Bad dog!” she shrieked, swiping the soft bristles of the broom at Lee’s head in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. Her movements were hesitant, more a light tapping than a forceful blow, as she couldn’t bring herself to hurt him.

Alan gently scooped up the sleeping Ziggy, holding him close, his small body nestled in the crook of her arm. She reached out with her free hand, her fingers aiming for my neck, but I slipped out of range. Letting out a weary sigh, she tucked Ziggy into the basket with care and turned her attention to me. As I kept myself just out of her reach, I spotted Marlow dashing toward the abandoned blade and Flynn hurrying to Rusty, only to be knocked aside by Dr. Starkey, now freed from Lee, with her broom.

The wraith—it was on the move. It slithered toward Rusty.

Dr. Starkey waved her broom in sweeping arcs, trying to shoo Flynn out the door. She didn’t see the dark form slinking mere inches from her feet. Flynn dodged her strikes, rolling to the side and weaving around her legs in a frantic attempt to slow her down and buy a moment to reach his brother. But his efforts came too late. The shadowy creature reached Rusty first, dissipating into a swirling vapor and vanishing into his open mouth and flaring nostrils.

Rusty jolted upright, like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His eyes, empty and black as a starless abyss, swept over the surrounding chaos and destruction. Then, he rose to his feet and began to march. As I tracked his course, I realized where he was heading: straight for the small table where Alan had left the black stones.

“Stop him!” I ordered.

Lee stepped in front of Rusty, a snarl escaping him, his fangs bared in a vicious display.

“Don’t hurt him!” Flynn’s plea rang out.

But Lee wasn’t the one to draw first blood. Rusty ran up the side of the canine, his wiry body a blur, and latched onto Lee’s back. The dog spun wildly, twisting and bucking, but Rusty held fast. His claws tangled in Lee’s fur, and then he lunged for an ear, sinking his teeth deep.

The dog let out a piercing, anguished cry. The rat thrashed his head, tearing a piece of flesh with its furious motion. Then Rusty leapt off his back and scurried out of sight.

Lee stumbled to the wall, his body shaking and whimpering as he leaned against it. Blood trickled from the torn edge of his left ear.

“Good God! That rat’s rabid!” Dr. Starkey exclaimed, crouching beside Lee to inspect the wound. “It’s done a real number on his ear.”

Then, her tone changed. Action replaced concern. She rose to her full height and spun on her heel, gripping the broom with white-knuckled force, her eyes searching around the room for her target.

I saw him first. Rusty was climbing up the leg of the small table, clawing his way closer to the black stones. I bolted forward, but I didn’t get far. A strong hand clamped onto the back of my neck and yanked me back.

Alan lifted me off the ground and shoved me into the cage, slamming the door shut.

Let me out! You've now idea what you're up against! But my words fell on her human deaf ears.

“It's going to be alright, Page,” she said, soothingly. “We'll be heading back home soon. So, try to relax.”

Relax?! I couldn't relax. I just couldn’t! Pacing the cramped enclosure, my thoughts whirled, frantically seeking an escape. All I could do was press my face to the small window, and watch the scene:

Rusty had climbed onto the table, his outstretched fingers brushing against one of the black stones. A low hum resonated as the device began to glow a soft green light. His hands moved rapidly over its surface. He leaned into it whispering into its glow. As he worked, Flynn advanced from behind. He wrapped his arms around Rusty’s neck and pulled him back.

Rusty wrenched himself from Flynn’s hold and swung a wild punch at him, missing only by a whisker as Flynn nimbly dodged. The two collided again, a flurry of claws raking and teeth snapping inches apart. Just when it seemed Rusty was about to gain the upper hand, the vet swept the broom forcefully across the table. The blow sent both rats tumbling to the floor, their fight abruptly broken.

Groaning, Flynn struggled to lift himself from the floor, his injured leg bending unnaturally beneath him, forcing him to collapse again with a grimace of pain. Meanwhile, Rusty, unshaken, calmly brushed the dust from his fur and began stalking forward, his black soulless eyes zeroing on Flynn. Before he could strike, Lee’s powerful jaws snapped around Rusty’s tail. With a fierce shake, he hurled the rat aside, sending him crashing into an overturned shelf.

The blow seemed to barely faze the rat. He rose again, shaking off the impact as if it were nothing. His cold, black eyes remained locked on Flynn, who was still struggling to get up on his feet. Slowly and purposefully, Rusty moved toward him, closing in for the kill.

Marlow emerged from behind the fallen shelf, his hands steady as they gripped the razor blade. There was no hesitation when he swung, the blade arcing through the air and biting deep into the nape of Rusty’s neck. Rusty let out a strangled cry and staggered forward, landing on all fours as a shudder rippled through his body.

Marlow didn’t stop. He swung the blade again.

“Nooooo!” Flynn let out a heart-wrenching scream filled with such anguish that even I felt the sting of his pain in my chest. He watched in helpless horror and devastation, fully aware he was powerless to stop the Wise Keeper.

I’d seen brutality before—had even participated in it. Catching rats, tearing them apart, it was instinctual, something excusable in the natural order of things. But this was something else entirely.

Blow after blow rained down, scattering dark flecks of blood across the floor, until, at last, the head severed completely from the body. It rolled to a stop at Flynn’s feet, its glassy eyes staring into nothingness. The wraith was now gone.

Marlow stood there, breath ragged and chest heaving, the blade slipping from his grip to the blood-streaked floor. His gaze fell upon Rusty's headless body, his face crumbling with sorrow and regret.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, a tremor shaking his voice as he spoke. “But there was no other way… No Soul Cleanser, no chance to bring him back to the nest safely. Nothing else could have saved him. Nothing…”

“Filthy rats!” Dr. Starkey shouted, thrusting the broom at Marlow. With forceful jabs, she drove him out the opening flap of the tarp sheet that served as the door. Spinning on her heel, she turned her attention to Flynn. She shoved him toward the exit next. He stumbled, his limp worsening as the broom's bristles nudged him out.

Meanwhile, Alan knelt beside Rusty’s body, her expression troubled as she examined the bloody scene. “That was… strange,” she said. “Why would a rat attack another rat, much less use a razor blade to decapitate it?”

Dr. Starkey sighed, shaking her head. “The rats have been acting crazier than usual lately. My advice? Stay away from rat vendors. You never know what you’re getting.”

Dropping the broom, the vet gathered Lee in her arms, his trembling body fragile against her steady grip. Soft, pitiful whimpers escaped him, and blood continued to trickle from his wounded ear, staining her white sleeve with thin, red streaks. She strode toward the pile of cages—once a neatly stacked tower, now a scattered mess from Lee’s earlier antics. Carefully, she eased him into one and clicked the door shut.

“And what’s the plan for the dog?” Alan asked.

“I'll have to take a good look at his ear and fix him right up,” Dr. Starkey replied matter-of-factly. “And then it's off to the Shelter for the both of them.”

“Both of them?”

Dr. Starkey's eyebrow shot up as she gestured toward the incredible mess around them. “Yes, both,” she snapped. “Just look at what they’ve done! They’ve wrecked my home, and now, to make matters worse, there are rats crawling about!”

Alan’s eyes hardened, and she shook her head. “You can take the dog but not Page,” she said firmly. “He’s coming back with me.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” the vet cautioned. “He could be infected. If you take him back, you risk spreading it on the ship. It’s safer to isolate him in the Shelter and monitor his condition.”

Alan and I locked eyes through the tiny window of the cage. Don’t let her take me to the Shelter, I pleaded.

“He seems fine now,” Alan said evenly. “Look at him—he’s much calmer. And his eyes… they were black before but now they've turned back to normal.”

Dr. Starkey’s wide brown eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, scrutinizing me through the window. I swallowed back the hiss rising in my throat. She had wanted to cut me open! And now, she wanted to dump me in that dreaded Shelter.

“Well, fine,” she said after a pause, shrugging dismissively. “Your call. But if you take him back, it’s on you if something happens.”

[First Book][Previous Chapter][Cover Art][Patreon]

The blurred beige wall of FTL travel smeared across the Wanderer’s cockpit as it flew. Tooley had nothing to do as they soared, and wouldn’t for several hours, but she stayed in the pilot’s seat anyway. It was comfortable, and she had nowhere else to be.

Traveling with a smaller crew had made Tooley realize what an important function Corey and Farsus played in the crew: entertainment. Kamak had been sulking in his room ever since they’d left Tannis. Tooley didn’t enjoy talking to him normally, but it was at least fun to insult him sometimes. Doprel was a perfectly decent conversationalist, but he lacked a certain element of fun that Farsus and Corey’s particular brand of insanity did. Or maybe they’d just had enough one-on-one chats recently that Tooley was a little bored of him now. Either or. Tooley wasn’t good enough at introspection to figure that out. The key takeaway was that she was really bored right now.

Kamak was sulking too much to talk about what had happened on Tannis, so Tooley assumed it was nothing good, but also nothing important. It was nothing relevant to their killer, so Tooley chalked it up as a waste of time. All the action had happened near Corey, and they’d completely missed it.

Tooley leaned on the arm of her chair and sighed. She just missed Corey in general. Somehow that little twerp had wormed his way into her life to such an extent that he was irreplaceable. Tooley was both annoyed and embarrassed at that. She’d always thought she was too cool to do something dopey like fall in love. She got about seven seconds to ruminate on the complexities of her romantic situation before Kamak stomped out of his room, briefly disrupting the boring status quo.

“Morning, Kamak,” Doprel said. “You hear Corey got stuck with Khem until we get back?”

“Sucks for him.”

After delivering that one scathing line, Kamak grabbed some food and a beer from the fridge and immediately grumbled his way back to his room. Tooley got out of her chair long enough to see him slam the door shut.

“I haven’t seen him this messed up since all that shit at the Timeka facility,” Tooley said. Kamak wasn’t sleeping, or even eating, as much as usual -and he’d been doing both less in general since the battle against the Horuk. Kamak was down to one meal a day now, and Tooley couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him drink something without alcohol in it. That said, Tooley didn’t pay much attention to him, so maybe he was hydrating out of her very limited field of view.

“Kamak doesn’t have many old friends,” Doprel said. “Losing one hurts.”

“Was Catay a friend? Seemed more like she hated his guts,” Tooley said. One of a few things she and the former pilot had in common.

“Yeah,” Doprel admitted. “But that’s still kind of a committed relationship, in a way. You wouldn’t necessarily feel bad if Kamak died, but you’d definitely feel something.”

“I don’t like it, but yeah,” Tooley said. She hated Kamak, but they’d been flying together for years now. Him dying would shake up her world, regardless of her feelings on him as a person. He was a bad presence, but he was a presence.

“So it’s probably that. And a lot of other things,” Doprel said. “Kamak’s a mess-”

“Yeah.”

“-and his past is a mess,” Doprel continued. “So is his future. This kind of thing is just going to keep happening to him.”

“I suppose the bastard is going to outlive all of us,” Tooley said. His long lifespan had that drawback, at least. Any Gentanian who palled around with other races ended up with a lot of dead friends.

“Frankly, I don’t think he expected to make it this far,” Doprel said. “Not that’s he’s suicidal or anything, he’s just in a job with a lot of gunfights. Statistically…”

“I know what you mean,” Tooley said. Most bounty hunters were lucky to make it through twenty years unscathed, Kamak had lasted forty and counting, plus one grand universal conspiracy/minor war. Jury was still out on him surviving the current serial killer incident. “Explains why he’s so pissy about Ghost and the spooky squad wanting him to retire. Dude never thought he’d actually have to live with his shit.”

“I’ve been trying to get him into a hobby,” Doprel said. “He doesn’t have a lot to channel his energy into.”

Tooley’s curiosity sparked, and that spark caught fire when she realized she didn’t care that much about Kamak’s problems and would rather be talking about something else.

“You know, I know how you two met,” Tooley began. It was a fairly boring story; Kamak had needed muscle to intimidate someone, and Doprel had been there and looked muscular. “But why’d you decide to stick around? Why put up with Kamak’s shit?”

“Because he was the first person to not look at me like I was a freak,” Doprel said.

“No, just as an asset he could exploit,” Tooley said.

“Better than a freak,” Doprel said. “I don’t think you really understand how upsetting it gets, being looked at like a monster everywhere you go, by everyone you meet.”

Even in his earliest days, before he’d really gotten acquainted with the facial expressions of the other species, Doprel had been able to tell they looked at him like an outsider. Kamak had been one of the first people to look past the fins and mandibles and exoskeleton and see that Doprel was something else. Even if that something else was just a very large, tough thing that was good at punching.

“Tagging around with one of the ‘normal’ species helped me fit in,” Doprel said. “And by the time I realized there were other options, I’d kind of started to like him.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“If I ever figure it out, I’ll explain it,” Doprel said. It was inexplicable, but Kamak did have a certain charm -in spite of how utterly charmless he was.

A line of destruction sliced through the basketball court, destroying all in its path. The boss, though, blocked it with both arms. Unable to completely stop the force of the strike, he was pushed back, plowing through the floor like a tractor, and still he didn’t appear to have been even remotely hurt.

For the last several minutes, the trio had thrown everything they could at him, and hadn’t gotten close to threatening him. All the wounds they’d done—and there were several of them—were insignificant, neither slowing nor weakening the man’s actions. That included a vertical chop capable of destroying walls.

“It has to be a skill,” Will said as the boss lowered his arms. Both of them were already bloody from other attacks, making it unclear whether the last had caused any new wounds at all.

“Just one, bro?” one of Alex’s copies asked. “I stabbed him five times at least. That’s more than one skill.”

Clearly, they had reached the next skill wall. The first time Will had faced a wolf, the beasts seemed undefeatable. Similar things could be said for several of the elites. This run, thanks to careful planning, three of the group had significantly leveled up and had pretty good luck with the random skills, and still they appeared to be powerless.

The hidden boss didn’t seem to have an obvious pattern, discernable weaknesses, or apparent flaws. He was fast, strong, and considerably more durable than a level eight knight. The only reason he hadn’t managed to bring about the loop’s end was the self-preservation instincts of everyone involved. Alex was hiding among his copies, as a thief would. Helen made it a point to use her acrobatics skill to retreat following each of her attacks. As for Will, he maintained a thirty-foot distance between the monster and himself. There were only two problems with that: in the case of a stalemate, the defender always won, and despite appearances, the hidden boss was the defender.

“He must have regeneration,” Helen said, breathing heavily. “There’s no way anyone could lose that much blood.”

“There’s no way bones could withstand your knight’s bash, either,” Will added.

Seeing them talk, Spatra took advantage of the momentary pause to grab the remaining seven spears from his quiver and throw them at Helen in rapid succession.

In her state, the girl was less mobile than any of her teammates, making her an easy target.

Without warning, copies of Alex emerged out of thin air, shattering as the spears pieced them. It wasn’t much, but each copy slowed down the projectile ever so slightly, allowing the girl to somersault into the air without getting hit.

Daring to risk it, Will chose that precise moment to leap twenty feet closer to the man and threw his dagger in the hidden boss’s shoulder.

“Bro, don’t!” Alex shouted.

POISON IGNORED

“Damn!” Will said beneath his breath as he leapt out of reach again. The bad part was that he didn’t have a weapon anymore.

“Poison Spear, bro,” all the mirror copies shouted simultaneously.

“Well, he doesn’t have spears anymore.”

Come to think of it, he’d never seen a skill relating to spear use. Either it was something extremely rare, or there had to be a spearman class among the twenty-four.

The hidden boss grabbed Will’s knife and pulled it out of his shoulder. For several seconds, he examined the weapon, then unceremoniously snapped it in two, breaking the blade off the hilt.

DUAL-FANG DAGGER DESTROYED

Will watched in horror as his unique weapon was rendered useless. Not once had there been any indication that something of the sort could happen. Everything so far had pointed to their weapons being permanent, at least as long as the tutorial lasted. That illusion had just now been shattered.

It was just a dagger, but it made Will feel as if ice was forming in his stomach. That was the first piece of loot they’d come across. It had meant something, and now it was no more.

“At least he doesn’t have a weapon,” Alex said in an attempt to find the positive. “Should be better for us.”

No sooner had he said that than Spatra took out a small object from his trouser pocket. Before everyone’s eyes was a mirror fragment, no different than the ones Helen and Will had obtained. Cold hatred burning in his eyes, the hidden boss tapped on its surface.

“Did you know they could have fragments?” Will asked, as he took out one of his all-purpose knives.

“First time, bro,” Alex said. “That’s why he’s a boss. Stronger than the usual mobs.”

Things didn’t end there. After a few taps, the figure’s hand sunk into the fragment, taking out an ornate grand spear. The thing seemed so long it could be used for pole vaulting. The tip on top was nothing less than a serrated machette splashed with purple liquid—possibly poison. Gems, along with gold and silver, covered the shaft, several of them covered in a low glow.

“Shit, get back!” Alex’s copies rushed forward, creating a wall between the boss and everyone else.

“What’s going on?” Will asked.

“Phase two.”

Spatra put the mirror fragment away and spun the spear around him. The action was so fast that it created several after images.

If that really was an unknown class, speed had to be its main benefit. Thankfully, it didn’t seem as if he had the ability to jump. They had seen that ranged throwing remained an option, as was expertise in spears. One could also assume that he had a few random skills as well.

Poison immunity and regeneration, Will thought. It also didn’t look like Spatra was one bit tired, suggesting his endurance was on par with that of Helen’s.

“I’m open to ideas,” Will said.

“Go for the eyes?” Several of the Alexes suggested.

“Or the head,” Helen added in determination. “

“That thing is ten feet long, sis. How will you get close to strike?”

Suddenly, an epiphany came to Will. The experience of facing the snake monster while having three different classes had allowed him to see what he otherwise would have never considered. It was more than just learning the strengths of the other classes, but how to combine them in order to achieve something far greater than the individual parts.

“Alex, distract him!” He said, leaping in Helen’s direction. “I have an idea.”

Seeing that something was amiss, the hidden boss ran into action. Dozens of mirror copies were shattered in one single arc strike of the spear. Thankfully, dozens more appeared out of thin air, charging at the man. Even so, it was impossible to contain him.

Both Helen and Will leaped away in opposite directions, moments before Spatra thrust his spear forward. The poisonous tip went through the many copies, reaching a distance far greater than any of them had perceived in their mind’s eye.

“We need to get together,” Will shouted. “Go round the other end.”

On cue, Spatra did a one-eighty, thrusting his spear forward again. The attack wasn’t remotely close, but it served as a warning.

“He doesn’t want to let us,” Helen said.

“That’s because he knows what I’m about to do.” It wasn’t going to be easy to surprise him.

“It ain’t dumb, bro,” Alex said. “It’s probably listening to anything you say. We must talk in code or Latin, or something.”

“Who knows Latin?” Will threw the knife he was holding, then several more. The boss deflected him with his shaft without issue.

“I was bored, bro,” the goofball said apologetically. “Nothing interesting happened before you showed up.”

Twenty mirror copies charged forward.

STAB

Surprise attack.

Damage increased by 1000%

Wound inflicted.

Several of them managed to survive long enough to actually strike their target in an unprotected spot. Even that didn’t matter, since Spatra had the annoying ability to ignore any wounds he received. That had never been the point of the attack, though. Alex was just continuing with what Will had asked him to do, and was doing it well. Now, it was just a matter of taking advantage.

“Hel,” Will shouted, attempting to circle round the boss. “Just like the snake. I’ll meet you halfway.”

Suspecting something, the enemy ignored the copies’ attacks and moved to remain in sync with the boy.

“Trust me,” Will added.

The ornate spear split the air, aiming to strike Will in the leg. That’s when the boy made his move.

Twisting in place, he evaded the attack, then leapt in the direction of his attacker. On the other side, Helen did the same.

As adrenaline kicked in, both floated in the air as if in slow motion. Will threw all knives he had left, then tossed his backpack.

The spear thrusts continued. The poisonous tip ripped the air, passing inches from Will on several occasions. Purely thanks to his evasion skill, did he manage to twist his body just in time to evade it. On one occasion, the tip even bounced off the metal knee guard, absorbing the full force of the attack.

It really was useful, Will thought as he reached the point right above Spatra.

Helen was only a foot away, gripping her sword with both hands. She had no idea exactly what Will was planning, but had decided to trust him. This was the make or break moment.

“Aim for the head,” Will whispered as he took hold of her left arm, twisting his body so he got behind her. “I’ll tell you when to let go.” His other hand reached out behind her. Both his arms had gotten hold of her forearms, transforming the pair into one unit.

Helen could feel Will’s guidance, waiting for the massive sword to rise above their heads, then swinging downwards.

At precisely the right moment, Will tightened his grip. Fifteen feet above the hidden boss, the sword was let go, thrusting straight down.

From this distance, there was nothing Spatra could do. His spear was held in such a position that he couldn’t deflect the sword on time.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Armor shattered

Armor? Will thought, looking down.

In the very last moment, the hidden boss had managed to arch backwards, letting the sword hit him in the chest.

The strength of the attack remained massive, but instead of a lethal blow in the head, it had merely removed the man’s protection. After all that, he had still managed to survive.

“Hold tight, bros!”

A new wave of Alexes emerged, swarming the boss like an avalanche. Several of them leaped up in fast, albeit clumsy fashion. It was rather that they were jumping during a sprint than doing anything else, but even so, through mass and effort alone, managed to change the downward trajectory of Will and Helen, allowing them to land ten feet away from the enemy.

At that point, Will took the initiative again, leaping further back with Helen. The strain was significant, but thanks to the belt he was wearing, the pain didn’t seem so bad.

“Good plan,” the girl whispered.

Will let go of her, then shook his head. No one could argue that the plan had achieved a lot, but it had failed its main goal. The boss had survived. The attack had left him armor-less and slightly disoriented, but that wouldn’t last for long.

“Alex, fetch the sword!” he shouted.

“I’m a bit low on mirrors, bro,” a voice replied. What used to be dozens of mirror copies had been reduced to five, each keeping their distance. It was a good chance that the real Alex was among them. “Don’t think I can pull it off.”

“Damn it!” Will hissed.

He wasn’t angry that they had failed, but that they were so close. If only they had been a second faster… if only the boss hadn’t moved at the last moment, this could have been the end of it. Now, they had earned second place, and in a duel, second place was the same as failing.

The albino turned in their direction. Without his torso armor, he seemed even whiter, as if he were a living statue of marble. Maybe that would explain his high resistance to physical attacks.

A slight smile formed on his otherwise stoic face as if saying, “nice try, kids.” At this point, they were entirely at his mercy. None of them had any weapons or surprises left. All they could do was to prolong the inevitable until one of them fell victim to his spear, or the loop came to an end.

A whooshing sound broke the silence, followed by a dull thump. The tip of a somewhat sharp bolt emerged from the boss’ chest along with a burst of blood.

Confusion covered everyone’s faces, but Spatra’s most of all. The large man looked down in utter disbelief, then back at Will before collapsing on the floor.

HIDDEN BOSS REWARD (set)

MASS INVENTORY SLOT INCREASE (permanent): inventory slots increased to 48.

A message appeared on the backboard mirror in large purple letters.

“Fucker,” Jace said from the entrance, holding what looked like a miniature cross between a harpoon gun and a crossbow. “Now anyone tell me I’m useless,” he added with a smirk.

< Beginning | | Previously... | | Next >

“Break it? Do you need to go back to the med-tent?” Rickard asked Dr. Fusō. There was no way he was breaking the fabricator. They needed it to colonize K2-18B, to save the human race, and most importantly, to revive Tabi.

Dr. Fusō took her patented one-step-closer-than-necessary step. “Nina and Diyab aren’t taking this seriously. They’re going to destroy this planet, just like they destroyed Earth.”

“They didn’t destroy Earth. We all did.” He retreated across the scorched earth that ringed the fabricator, toward the abundance of life that surrounded them, the nigh-unlimited fabricator fuel.

“Stop defending them. That’s irrelevant. If they won’t do the right thing now, when there’s only sixteen of us, while we’re not even using money, what makes you think they’ll do the right thing when there’s a billion people depending on them. A billion people to profit from?”

“Okay,” Rickard said, reaching the edge of the ash. “I won’t let them use anything that you haven’t okayed.”

“That’s not good enough,” she said, raising her voice.

“It has to be,” he yelled back. “Nina won’t let me wake Tabi until the fabricator is working. Tabi’s already having difficulties in the hibernator, and now you reckon people are dying or going missing or who knows what from those damned pods. I have to get her out.”

Dr. Fusō stared at him. He stared back, but his anger faltered before her disappointment, and he looked down at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not going to break it. And I need to test it. Unless you tell me something better to use, I’m going to use some sailgrass.”

“Throw yourself in there,” she said, turning her back on him.

As she marched away, he swallowed the lump of guilt in his throat, and pulled a small sail of grass up from the ground. It quivered disconcertingly in his hand, as if trying to squirm free. He tried to ignore it and carried it back to the fabricator. There must have been thousands of square miles of the stuff, if not millions. A few pieces wouldn’t make a difference.

He pressed a button and the machine whirred as the input window lifted open. He threw the grass in. It looked absurd, lying in the center of a space large enough to hold an elephant, still quivering. Another button press and the curved glass lowered back into place.

“529 GRAMS OF FUEL DETECTED,” the console read.

“Not bad.” That had only been a smaller blade, thirty centimeters long and not even that tall. Some of the sailgrass looked over a meter long and thigh high. “What can we print that weighs half a kilo?”

His first thought was of a hamburger. A huge, greasy pub burger with two slabs of still-mooing meat sandwiched between cheese and onions and barbeque sauce. He swallowed and forced himself to think of something more practical. What would Tabi tell him to print?

He gazed over their budding colony. Diyab’s two teenagers kicked a stone back and forth amid the ash and dust of the shuttle’s circle of annihilation. Nina’s seven-year-old sat against the base of the shuttle, her eyes glowing with changing colors from her aug-phone. Forty feet away, a bodyguard from each family slowly put up tents while keeping an eye on their charges.

“Something for the kids,” he told the fabricator.

It didn’t disagree.

He flicked through the console menus, picked out a handful of smaller designs, and hit ‘Fabricate.’

The fabricator always hummed. Rickard had been around it far too long to notice any more, but now the soft hum swelled, a variety of whines and whirs joining in chorus, until it roared. Raw, artificial-white light poured out of the input window, punching a hole through the cloud of insects that buzzed overhead.

“Guess they ain’t related to moths,” Rickard joked with his quantum-mechanical brainchild.

The fabricator continued its roar with a dash of mirth. The output window lit up, joining its mirrored twin in blasting unmistakably-human light, a mimic of Sol’s white, into K2-18B’s red-tinged sky.

Then the roar ended, the lights faded, and the fabricator produced a proud solitary ‘ding!’

Rickard opened the output window and withdrew the designs: a soccer ball, a sketchbook, and a small set of pencils. He carried them toward the kids.

“Prince Zayed, Prince Tahnun, I have something for you,” he said, before rolling them the ball.

“My thanks, Mr. Carfine,” Zayed said, with a smile and a barely perceptible nod. He stopped the ball with the sole of his boot and passed it to his brother, who also nodded his thanks.

“No problem. Should be open to requests soon,” Rick replied, before crossing over to the shuttle.

“Alta, I have a mission for you,” Rick told the young girl sat against the shuttle.

The changing colors from Alta’s aug-phone paused and, in one eye, dimmed. She eyed the sketchbook in his hands skeptically. “What mission?”

“Dr. Fusō needs to learn everything she can about K2-18B—”

“Kaybee,” she said.

Rick paused for a moment before realizing she’d corrected him. “Huh. You know, that is a better name.” He smiled at her. “Well there’s a lot here, on Kaybee. If you could draw the plants and creatures, maybe record what you see them do, it would really help her.”

“I don’t think I want to help her. She shouted at Mama.”

“She sure did.” He offered her the sketchbook and the pencils. “But if she had some help, maybe she wouldn’t be so stressed and moody? After all, she’s working for your mom, so if you help her, you’re really helping your mom.”

Alta eyed the pencils, stared at him skeptically, then looked back at the pencils. “Okay.” Her aug-phone switched off, she leaped to her feet, then grabbed the sketchbook and pencils and marched off toward the wild.

“Cheers, science man,” Guard Canary said as she hurried after Alta. “Remind me to make your job more difficult when I next can.”

“Wait, do you know where Ms. Krejov is?” he asked.

She gave him a thumbs up with an unkind grin and continued to chase after Alta.

“Brilliant,” Rickard said to himself, before asking the other guard—who still oversaw Zayed and Tahnun—who directed him to the mess tent.

Inside, Nina and Kirk lounged on a cushion-infested divan opposite Sheik Diyab and his wife, Sheikha Layla, on their own plush pillow palace, all sipping from fine crystalware and tinkling with laughter.

“Sorry, excuse me,” Rickard interrupted. Four near-infinitely wealthy heads turned in his direction. “The fabricator is operational.”

“Excellent work, Rick,” Nina replied. “I knew you could do it. There’s wine on the counter,” she waved her glass toward a cabinet bearing a large bottle of sparkling wine, its thick dust coating disturbed by a collage of handprints. “Help yourself to a glass.”

“Thank you, Nina. That’s very kind.” Rickard didn’t move toward the cabinet. “Instead, with your permission, I was hoping I could return to the podship and revive my wife.”

Nina took a slow sip from her glass before nodding slowly. “Yes. I’ll come see your machine in action in the morning, and assuming all goes well we’ll send you back up afterwards.”

“I would prefer to show it—” he began, but she cut him off with a look.

“We are celebrating humanity’s first day on its new home tonight. I will look at the fabricator tomorrow.”

Reflexively, he gave a small bow of subservience, and hated himself for it. White hot fury churned within him, but somehow his cowardice still managed to make, “Thank you, Nina,” sound sincere. He left the tent before he could grow a spine.

Kaybee’s sun had begun to set, and its warm orange light had darkened to a red almost as angry as Rickard. The septillions of insects buzzing through the hydrogen-rich air had reduced to mere trillions, with many gone to bed, he assumed.

A sensible plan, he conceded. Although his father had advised him and Tabi during their engagement party, 131 years ago and 124 light years away, to never go to bed angry. Rickard assumed that meant with each other. He hoped as much; he had a feeling he would be going to bed, angry with Nina, more and more frequently in the nights to come. Not that she had been the easiest employer to work for back on Earth.

A realization struck Rickard and strangled his throat: his mom and dad were dead. Even if those they had left behind in their exodus from Earth had found a way to survive the climate catastrophe, over 128 years had passed on Earth. Thanks to hibernation, it felt as though he had hugged his parents less than a month ago.

Rickard chided himself for the grief, for the pressure that built behind his eyes. This wasn't a surprise. The maximum age for passengers had been released months before they had completed the first podship: no one over sixty permitted.

Although the press release had spun it as a kindness: the hibernation pods were statistically less safe for the elderly, colonizing a new planet would be arduous and uncomfortable. Your last thirty years—if you survived that long—would be far more comfortable in your own home on a planet that was slowly self-destructing.

Of course, Rickard had begged Nina to make an exception. He had invented the fabricator, the singularly key technology enabling the exodus, producing the podships, colonizing this planet. But Nina, or at least her secretary’s secretary, had declined.

"Tent," he asked the guard still watching the princes. The guard pointed to a smaller tent furthest from the center of their little settlement, and that suited Rickard just fine. He retreated to it, shed his space suit, helped himself to a large dose of melatonin, and climbed into his cot.

As he tried to sleep, His traitorous subconscious treated him to endless simulations. What if he had quit Automaxion before inventing the fabricator? Or if he had sabotaged the software and held the Exodus Project hostage? Or pushed that witch into the fabricator and printed her clone, with a slight enhancement to her empathy? Though, of course, that would be murder.

But his parents would still be alive.

Mercifully, the melatonin finally overpowered his traitor mind.

First episode / previous episode.

Cover Art || <<Previous | Start | Next >> ||

GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon.
Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)

Even with Fuyuko's slip of the tongue, Mordecai considered the day to have gone rather well. They had established themselves as strong in more than one way, relative to their size and youth as a Court, and they had proven themselves useful and resourceful. It was hard to be unhappy with such circumstances.

Then everything changed.

The new 'third' princess that Fuyuko had noticed was easy for him to recognize; the options were limited, and not many beings carried the aura of both a kitsune and a dryad. He really should have anticipated that Norumi would also be considered a princess of the court, given how fey she had already become.

Beside her was a presence new to Mordecai. A masculine nature spirit strong in the elements of wood and earth, and keeping close to her side. Mordecai had a guess as to the identity of this man, and if he was correct looked forward to meeting him.

However, the third presence, a nine-tail kitsune whose power outshone everyone else here.

That one gave him a headache.

Satsuki; so named after the season of changing weather and dangerous storms. Her name was supposed to represent resilience against unpredictable dangers, but she was more akin to being such a storm.

She was also Norumi's mother.

"I must apologize," he said to their current interviewee as he, Moriko, and Kazue had all fallen silent, "we will need to pause for the moment. There are some new visitors and I am afraid we will need to attend to them promptly. It is unfortuitous timing." They had been conducting their interviews in the glades near the feasting tables to make the process less intimidating, but now they needed to abandon their food and drink.

To everyone connected to the dungeon, Mordecai sent out, "Our new visitors consist of my daughter Norumi, her mother Satsuki, and a third unknown to me but likely to be just as important. Please arrange for the best possible reception for them." He then narrowed his focus to just Moriko, Kazue, Carmilla, Fuyuko, and Bellona. "I have no idea what sort of 'token' Satsuki is bringing, but she likes to play strange games. We will want higher value return gifts than honey I am afraid, and probably three such gifts. Any ideas?"

While they conferred, the three of them turned back toward their thrones. Mordecai also directed several of their best musicians, dancers, and other performers to set up along the sides of the path the new guests were on. He hoped to buy them some time via entertaining distractions.

Carmilla responded first by asking, "Your daughter said her mother got along well with Queen Sylphine, yes? If she bears no title then she must be special for Queen Sylphine to consider her an equal. Mother can be a touch judgmental about such things. So something that befits royalty?"

Not a bad start, but Mordecai still wasn't certain what that should be.

"Oh!" Kazue said, "I have an idea. I mean, it might be over the top, but if you want the best thing we can possibly give, that would be the opal from the mushroom elixir."

Bellona sounded amused as she said, "I am surprised you are willing to give away something so valuable to one of your husband's former lovers."

Moriko replied, "I'd rather drown her in generosity than appear jealous or threatened. We do not need the opal at this point either. We may have kept it as an emergency source of cash, but we've established ourselves now. I say we should go for it."

"Even my mother would be impressed with that, I think," Carmilla agreed.

With that decided, it was time to focus on Norumi.

Fuyuko's starting suggestion was simple and reflected empathy for Norumi's situation. "She'll want a gift that's special because it's from her father."

That was hard to argue with, and Mordecai felt certain Fuyuko was right. "I'll think about that, thank you. For our third guest, I suspect we will want something that would be appreciated by a guardian spirit. If they were delving it would be easy to make something quickly, but we are limited by what we can manually arrange or craft in time."

He left the rest of them to figure that out while he focused on what would be appropriate for his daughter. Mordecai's mind kept coming back to the idea of a diadem for a princess but at first, it did not seem feasible to craft a suitable one for her in such a short time.

Once his contemplations brought Mordecai to his solution, it seemed obvious. Their warrens held many trees that they had been evolving and hybridizing and it wasn't hard to select an appropriate specimen from these new species. This was a true silverwood tree, capable of drawing trace amounts of the metal from the soil into its wood and leaves. The trees it had been bred from all had innate, if faint, magical properties and they had been working on enhancing those traits as well.

This resulted in a tree that carried an innate trace of holiness and bore fruit that promoted both physical and spiritual health, and sometimes a random minor blessing. He sent a rabkin druid to carefully transfer a small sapling into a temporary pot and bring it to him, while another collected several fruits with fertile seeds.

His work was fairly straightforward, once the sapling was in front of him. The tree had enough vitality to it that it was easy for him to shape it into a living circlet that would not wither, though this required trading in the potential for it to grow and mature into a proper tree. On top of that, he infused it with his love for his daughter and sealed it with the blessings of a high priest and a faerie king.

It was far from the most powerful item he'd ever created, but that wasn't the point. It was suitable and sincere, filled with the essence of who he was. Mordecai wasn't even certain what specific protections or boons it might provide, the sort of reshaping and blessing he'd done would only resolve itself sometime after it had been gifted, to fit its bearer.

The fruits and seeds, however, were a direct and hopefully practical gift. The trees that grew from them should help invigorate Norumi's forest and provide extra protection against any form of blight.

While he had been working on shaping the circlet, everyone else had been deciding on the third reciprocal gift.

A guardian should have armor, and the reports back from the first entertainers said that the man walking with Norumi and Satsuki had manifested a body in the form of a rough-hewn, humanoid-shaped tree interwoven with an intricate pattern of vine, moss, and leaf to create details such as clothing and hair. The manifested body was also reinforced with strong earth magics.

They also confirmed his identity after overhearing Norumi call him Haolong.

Most items, even enchanted ones, did not readily bond to manifested forms and were often left behind when the spirit stopped manifesting a body. Mordecai was certain that Norumi would have no issue bonding with his gift, but making armor for this third visitor would require a different technique.

Having compatible materials was the first step, and they already had what they needed; mycelium and spider silk. They even had plenty of material prepared in the proper layers, as this was one of the things used for trades or rewards without directly using the dungeon's ability to create items.

The second step was not difficult, as they had rough estimates of his size from the reports and they had druids who could shape the material into the needed forms. Refining the size could wait for the moment.

Ensuring that the armor could bond with the spirit and readily be incorporated into the non-physical form without effort was trickier. The identity of the recipient helped with this, even if the connection was thinner than they would have wished, as two faerie queens gave their blessing to the champion who was their son-in-law via their step-daughter, while two faerie princesses gave their blessings to their brother-in-law.

Were the connections between them and Haolong stronger and reinforced with emotional bonds, the blessings would have been stronger. As it was, their primary purpose was to forge a link; it was their druidic inhabitants who used that link to create the enchantment that would let the armor bind to the spirit rather than the body.

If they'd had more time, they could have created the enchantment from scratch. As it was, they repurposed an enchantment on a shield that had been captured during the invasion. It was meant to allow the shield to block attacks from non-physical entities, but there was enough overlap between the purposes that it was just faster and easier to scrap the shield than to make a new enchantment.

After a brief discussion, Mordecai, Kazue, and Moriko rearranged the seating. Fuyuko and Carmilla both were seated next to Moriko while two more seats were arranged next to Mordecai and a third further down and just off to the side of the dais.

Whatever her ties to them, Satsuki was not a member of their court. She would get a place of honor, but the dais was for the court royalty alone and they intended to recognize Haolong as such shortly.

There were a few precious moments of peace before the woman's arrival. Still, it was hard to ignore her presence in their domain. Whereas Gil was simply bombastic and often careless with his power and people like Aia tended to keep very careful restraint on their power, Satsuki wielded her power liberally. Never in excess, but always present in subtle ways.

For example, most of their guests first noticed her by hearing her as she swept along the gleaming white path while she talked animatedly with Norumi and Haolong. Not that she was loud, no, not her. Even without magic, she knew how to make herself be heard without being loud. But with just a touch of magic, that talent was amplified to the exact level she wanted at any moment.

The black-haired kitsune was as stunning as ever, with her ears and five of her tails tipped in brilliant red while her hair and four of her tails were tipped in white that practically glowed. Mordecai was pretty certain she had styled with the white and red reversed the last time he'd seen her, but that had been a long, long time ago.

Her flowing black silk kimono was trimmed in red and decorated with white clouds and lightning bolts, reflecting the meaning of her name. It hugged her figure just enough to give a hint of the shape beneath and it was just loose enough to tease at the idea of a bit of collarbone or leg being flashed, but that tease was simply a taunt. She'd never let any bit of skin show by accident, mostly to show off her control of her situation.

Not that she needed clothing to make an impressive and commanding entrance, but perhaps those memories should not be dwelled upon, especially in present company and circumstances.

Norumi and Haolong seemed to be dragged along in her wake as Satsuki strode toward the dais with as much confidence as if her own throne waited upon it.

She stopped a little shy of the pavilion, just far enough away so that she would not have to look up at Bellona, who was regarding her with calm expectation.

Satsuki quirked a brow at this obstacle. Bellona's expression did not change and she did not move from her position directly in front of the dais.

There was no physical barrier preventing Satsuki from trying to move around Bellona, but there were reasons to not do so. For one, to do so would be a breach of protocol serious enough to hypothetically lead to violence. For another, it would be a concession that she could not get Bellona to step aside, and Satsuki was a prideful creature.

After just a few moments of silent eye contact, Satsuki smirked and tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment. "I do appreciate those who know how to do their duty properly, no matter what might face them. Hmm, knight of this court yet also a champion of Amirume, if I am not mistaken. Oh, and marked by Kuiccihan! Interesting. Well, Norumi, if you would make our introductions?"

The kitsune dryad stepped forward and gave Bellona a sympathetic smile as she dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Greetings," Norumi said, "I am Norumi, daughter of King Mordecai, and as it turns out, a princess of the Azeria Court. This is my mother, Satsuki, and my husband, Haolong. Please announce us to the King and Queens of the Azeria court."

Bellona smiled and stepped aside with a bow as she said, "Welcome to the Azeria Court, Your Highness. I believe your father and step-mothers look forward to seeing you, your husband, and your guest."

The pointed placement of Satsuki as a guest only made the woman look more amused. For all of her pride and vanity, Mordecai had never found fault in her ability to carefully stay on just the right side of protocol when she wanted to. Even having Norumi introduce them was the right choice; Satsuki introducing herself as the mother of Mordecai's daughter would have had a different weight than Norumi introducing Satsuki as her mother.

With that formality taken care of, the three of them proceeded to the dais.

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Romance.io - TVTropes

PART ELEVEN 'O' ONE

[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]

Tuesday

Nuncio sat on a wicker single-seat chair on the balcony of Fisk’s Puerto Rico penthouse apartment with his feet crossed at the ankle on the balustrade. The ocean breeze did as little for him as the waves that rolled in from the north to crash against the beach below, but his raised feet were acting as a barrier of sorts.

He could have just as easily sat in the living room to achieve his current objective, and he probably would have had it not been such a visceral reminder that he was not at home where he wanted to be. The fresh air outside was both unwelcome and grounding.

Ignoring the other environmental cues, he focused on the double screen of his phone, which he had partially resting on his raised thighs, his eyes compounding to see into several systems at once through his vantablack web. He hated being stuck on this stupid island, and he was missing his son like crazy, but right at that moment, all that was pushed aside in favour of this moment.

Tucker’s lawyers had presented the uncontested divorce first thing yesterday morning and had paid extra to have it expedited. By law, he and Helen were no longer married, and their assets were split accordingly.

Now that he didn’t have to watch Helen like a hawk anymore, he could shift gears and search the NYPD databank for the perfect detective to drop the career-altering bombshell on. It had never entered his mind to share his knowledge with Daniel. Fuck that. The bastard would be more interested in why he hadn’t bothered to share it before now and chase down that issue rather than going after the bitch they all hated.

As if Nuncio would allow himself to be lectured at by a kid who hadn’t even hit three digits yet. Pulllllease.

Besides, Daniel was famous enough. Let someone else who hated the rich getting away with shit steal the limelight.

Peeking through the precinct’s cameras, Nuncio watched his target as the older man, with a prominent bald spot separating his light brown hair, clasped his fists together behind his lower back and arched backwards away from his desk. His expression tightened in a grimace, then softened in relief as he pushed himself away from the glowing screen he’d been typing into.

There was no audio on the feed, but that didn’t stop Nuncio from reading the man’s lips and interpreting his every movement. It all screamed, ‘Oh, thank God!’ as he reached forward and switched the monitor off.

Nuncio huffed out an annoyed breath. As if Uncle YHWH had anything to do with that.

There was nothing special about the detective to look at. He was the epitome of average, from his height and weight to his eye and hair colours to his mid-range physique.

Only one thing stood out about him. The reason why he hadn’t stood up before stretching. With his computer off, he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and slid his arms into the sleeves, covering his sidearm and badge on his belt. Then he stood up on his prosthetic left leg, which allowed him to walk (and even run – for a given definition of it) but not easily go from sitting down to standing up.

His desk was the only one with a light still on, refusing to leave until the very last moment. His partner had left at eleven, after Hayden had promised him he’d be right behind him. Of course, he lied, which was why, hours later, Nuncio was still waiting for him to go.

After 3 AM rolled around and he was still on page two of the same warrant request form, fighting a computer he was clearly losing the war with, Nuncio decided to slip into the system and give him a hand from the other side.

Twenty minutes later, the eight-page document was complete, and Detective Hayden Wallace seemed ready to call it a night. He’d been so tired he hadn’t reacted at all to the basic spellcheck that had magically morphed into a fully integrated autocorrect, anticipating his wording so that by the time he looked up to check what he was writing, there was nothing for him to fix – even in context.

With the paperwork finally submitted, he gave a mighty yawn and headed for the door.

Nuncio pulled back, both from the system and the precinct’s security cameras, and grinned. “Have a pleasant evening, Detective Wallace,” he said to the now absent NYPD officer. His finger hit send on his phone, and he watched with satisfaction as it pinged a dozen times through his vantablack web and the dark web before surfacing within an existing email server that then carried through the internet’s traditional network to land in the Detective’s inbox under the subject line ‘Angela Benson’. “You’re about to become famous.”

* * *

“I can’t get over how lifelike they are,” I said as I exited Boyd’s drying room. “You’d swear they should get off their stands and walk around the room.”

Boyd was grinning at my praise, and it occurred to me that as standoffish as he had been with me, I hadn’t been exactly forthcoming in my praise of him either. We weren’t just on two different wavelengths but two different planets in two different solar systems.

“I think they look good, too,” he agreed, his eyes flicking to the doorway and the carvings inside. “I’m just worried that it’s not only my work. Your dad’s tools are helping me to cheat…”

“Okay, I’m gonna pull you up there. And yes, I can because you’re going to listen to what I have to say. Robbie has Voila. That crazy box keeps everything he makes exactly the way it goes in. It makes his life ridiculously easy when planning every meal because he no longer has to time everything to have it all ready together. Would you agree that helps him save time?”

“But we were eating his food before Voila came onto the scene,” Boyd countered.

My hand immediately pointed down the hallway toward the living apartment next door. “Was that carving of my family on our coffee table done before or after you got your fancy tools?” I countered.

He went to argue. I could see it in his eyes, but he couldn’t refute my words, and he knew it. “So maybe … just maybe … the divine carving tools for you are like the divine Voila box is for Robbie. Not in place of it, but a complement to it.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” Boyd admitted.

“I mean, if you want me to prove they’re only complementary, I can,” I added. When he frowned at me questioningly, I waved his concerns aside. “Easy. Just get me a piece of wood you don’t care about, and I’ll show you what I mean in ten seconds flat.”

I know I piqued his curiosity when he left me and went into the storeroom, returning a few seconds later with a wooden block about eight inches round.

Honestly, if he’d said any of this crap to anyone else, I was amazed no one had thought to do this before now. I’m a degree-wielding oceanic eco-warrior. Yet I took the wood from him and carried it back to the workbench like I meant business…

…and nearly dropped it on my foot when my eyes took in the piece still in the midst of being carved on the spinner.

I hadn’t paid it any attention when I first came in, but now that I was up close, I took in the breathtaking beauty made all the more magnificent by the fact that the bottom half was still a solid square chunk of wood. It was like the man in the evening suit with the toddler in his arms was emerging right out of the block.

Boyd pushed past me and gathered the unfinished carving in his hands, transferring it to his left one only so that his right could dust off the spinner. Which was nice of him, but I doubted it would make a lick of difference to the mess I was about to make.

“One good thing about divine tools,” I said as I placed my block on the empty spinner. “I can’t accidentally break them.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Boyd agreed. “But what exactly are you trying to prove?”

Wow, and you all considered me the obtuse one.

At least I didn’t say that out loud as I picked up the nearest tool from the leather roll that was still open from where he’d abandoned them to come to dinner. I then spun the block of wood and pressed the blade into its rotating surface the same way I’d seen Boyd do it a million times before.

And oh, shoot! I had to seriously watch what I was doing because I couldn’t feel the contact, and at its spinning speed, I couldn’t make out anything at all! Not until after the cut had been made did something fall away! Whole clumps of wood clattered to the workbench and the floor as my piece got smaller and smaller until Boyd reached over my right shoulder, clamped his massive hand around my wrist, and wrenched me away from my masterpiece.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he demanded angrily. “Or are you trying to kill yourself?”

Okay, not the reaction I’d been going for here, and I guess it showed on my face, for he immediately loosened his grip, just enough to keep me restrained without hurting me.

Since his other hand was still holding the half-finished carving, he walked his fingers along my arm to my hand and cautiously removed the knife, heaving a deep sigh once he had possession of it. “You seriously had no idea what you were doing?” he asked, squinting at me.

I shrugged and shook my head, knowing my eyes were saucer-wide.

“So, you didn’t see how many times you practically cut off your other fingers or the way that last swipe missed your left wrist by a fuckin' hair?”

That would be a resounding no, and I went as far as to check my other hand for all the necessary digits, just to be sure.

In the meantime, he placed that knife back in its fancy pouch, followed by all the others until they were all away, and he rolled the pouch across the table for good measure to hide the dangerous items from my sight. “Okay, clearly I have to be more careful where those things are concerned.”

I looked at my hacked-up lump of wood that was now the size of a badly beaten, flattened, on one side, tennis ball: if you squinted one eye and shut the other. “The tools aren’t doing jack, just like Voila isn’t doing anything for Robbie’s cooking. Having a divinely sharpened knife doesn’t turn its wielder into you, and I just proved that. The skill involved in using them is all you, man, so own it.”

Boyd took another deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s hard to argue with, after that little show and tell.”

Which had been my entire point.

* * *

((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))

I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here

For more of my work, including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.

FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

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"So, this is the book everyone’s been crazy about?" the narrator muttered as he examined the worn, leather-bound volume in his hands. The title, "A Peasant's Ascension," captured his gaze. His friends had been relentless in their recommendations, insisting that this was a tale worth diving into. “A slow start”, they had said, but with a payoff that was nothing short of spectacular. He took a deliberate sip of his tea.

With a smirk, he finally opened the book, the turning of the pages the only sound in the quiet room. The promise of an epic adventure, a world vast and full of mystery, was tempting. This was a story of a peasant’s rise to power throughout his life, earned through grit and determination. He went from a weak child to the strongest in the world.

It was a story he could appreciate—if it delivered well on the premise. He leaned back in his chair, letting the words pull him into the world, not yet concerned with how it would end, but eager to see how it all began.

_____________________________________________________

“Uhhh… dad,” Erik mumbled in a half-asleep state. He opened his groggy eyes and rubbed his hands on them. It had been a year since his father had gone to war and Erik still dreamt of that moment at least once a week.

Erik got up and looked through the small window in his room. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the village. It looked like a beautiful day.

It was a special day actually—Erik Blake's tenth birthday.

He could hear his heart beat fast from the excitement. It was much more than last time. Perhaps it was the promise of growing older, becoming a man, or maybe it was the anticipation of the festivities his family had planned.

He looked to his side. His younger sister, Anna, was already awake as her bed on the other end of the room was unoccupied. Erik eagerly jumped out of bed and looked up. Looking at the blankets, he could see that Ben, his younger brother, still hadn’t woke up.

‘He’s so lazy,’ Erik snickered and left the shared room.

As he stepped into the small hall of his modest home, Erik was greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and the sound of his mother, Alice, humming a tune in the kitchen.

“It smells so nice in here,” he said before even moving to the kitchen’s doorstep.

"Good morning, Erik," Alice greeted him with a warm smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Happy birthday, my dear boy." She went to him and pulled him in for a hug and straightened his messy red hair with her hands.

"Thank you, Mother," Erik replied as he held her waist for a moment. His hands almost touched her long, wavy hair that made its way down. He couldn't help but grin at the thought of the day ahead.

“Yes, happy birthday!” Anna who was but a second ago helping their mom with the Stove now pounced onto Erik with a hug that felt more like the attack of a wild animal, making him lose balance and fall on the ground as they embraced.

“Ouch, ouch.. thank you so much,” he managed to laugh somewhat through the pain this caused on his back.

“Anna, don’t kill your brother on his birthday,” Alice had her hand brought to her mouth but Erik could easily see she was laughing at the situation.

After a bit the situation normalized itself, Ben joined the family and they had that delicious warm bread for breakfast.

“Now, children, let's hold our hands and pray for this food,” Alice suggested and brought her hands to her sides so they could be held.

“Aw come on Mom, it's my birthday. Can’t we just eat?”

“You shouldn’t say that Erik.. the lord helps us every day,” Ben interjected, making Erik pout.

“Yeah, but I don’t see them bringing the bread,” Erik muttered under his breath, a small smirk on his face.

Alice gave Erik a gentle yet firm look that only a mother could give. “We say thank you because we’re grateful. Now, hold hands.”

Reluctantly, Erik took his siblings’ hands and closed his eyes as she prayed. His mind was already drifting to the day ahead, barely paying attention to the words his mother spoke.

Later on during the day, he pondered what to do. Erik used to help his mom cook—be useful around the house. However, it was his birthday, she wouldn’t let him. Anna on the other hand was very much occupied with it so he couldn’t play with her.

‘What about Ben?’ He thought before shaking his head. His younger brother was incredibly smart, or so Erik thought, he constantly read books, be it hero tales or practical books like “18 Best Ways To Prepare A Fish”.

He was very smart for a seven-year-old, perhaps even more than Erik so he couldn’t get it.

It was the peak of summer so Erik could have gone fishing but it was his birthday, and he didn’t want to put on hard work.

Since nothing ever came to his mind, Erik settled on just laying on the warm grass in front of his house, he eyed the houses of the village while he waited for lunch.

Erik’s house was on top of a small hill, with the rest of the village being a couple of hundred meters away, down the hill. 

The village itself was a small community, home to a few dozen families, meaning everyone knew each other around here and nothing much interesting ever happened.

It was bordered by a dense forest on one side and a gently flowing river on the other. These natural boundaries gave the village a sense of seclusion, and the people relied on the forest for timber and game, while the river provided fresh water and fish.

He saw some children playing in the distance, he thought of going and saying hi but decided to not. 

There had been a time when the Blake family enjoyed a strong standing within the village. His father, Kaf, had been well-respected, a leader of sorts.

But since his father’s sacrifice—an act that saved the village but brought him to the war far away—Erik couldn’t shake the feeling that a barrier had grown between his family and the rest of the villagers. It wasn’t hostility, exactly, but more a quiet sense of separation, a void that had been left in the wake of his father’s absence.

Children often told Erik and his siblings they couldn’t play with them, giving one excuse or another. While these rejections stung, what hurt more was the way the villagers avoided meeting their eyes, even as they requested Alice’s services as a tailor.

Alice was known for her skill with a needle, and while her work was valued, they were quick to send her off with their orders rather than linger for conversation.

Trying to distract himself from these thoughts, Erik decided to concentrate and bring forth his magical powers to life. By feeling the mana build up in his mana core and slowly transferring it to his fingertips, he could bring his energy to the outside world.

With a flicker of imagination, Erik imagined the invisible sphere of mana igniting—and so it did. For a few seconds, he had a sphere of fire just above his palm. However, it quickly lost control and exploded in his hand like a balloon.

“Still can’t do it. Dad, I need more magic lessons from you!” Erik rolled on the grass in frustration. He had been meditating as his father had told him to and practicing making fire, but it only lasted for a short bit before disappearing. The progress he had made in the last year was marginal at best.

It was then that his morning was abruptly interrupted.

The sound of distant hoofbeats made him get up. Erik frowned his brow and squinted his eyes, looking down at the village as the sound came from there.

A solitary rider, clad in leather and iron armor reminiscent of a knight's, arrived on a gray stallion. He surveyed the surroundings briefly before engaging in conversation with the village elder. After handing over a letter, they exchanged a few words, and then their eyes settled on Erik.

The boy’s heart almost left his chest, making him quickly run inside his home, wondering why they looked at him.

“What’s wrong Erik?” Alice asked with a puzzled expression.

“A… a.. there’s a man in a horse, he looked at there and he’s very well dressed,” he tried to explain, his thoughts all scrambled. Erik vaguely remembered a similar sight a year ago, a well-dressed man was at the village too—the difference now was that this one was alone and they had already sent Kaf to war so what could it be?

‘Wait, DAD?’ Erik screamed in his mind as the realization took over. This must’ve been a messenger of some kind with a letter from his dad. He heard in those books that soldiers send those to their families. “He’s here because of Dad!” Erik screamed.

Alice was completely surprised by what Erik said, her eyes widened. “Wait a minute, dear, I’ll go talk to him,” despite keeping herself calm and collected, the wish that somehow her husband could be returning—or just any news from him—made her heart beat faster.

As the figure approached on his horse, he greeted Alice before dismounting.

All the siblings peered through the window, careful not to be seen as they watched. The messenger, with a solemn expression, approached Alice and began speaking, but Erik couldn't hear what was being said. He frowned and moved closer to the window, straining to catch snippets of the conversation. Erik pressed his ears onto the window, almost snapping it from the sheer pressure.

"Madam Blake," he began, bowing slightly out of respect before dismounting his horse. He then continued speaking but he must’ve been talking low as Erik couldn’t hear it at all.

There was a moment where both figures stood without speaking though. Alice brought her hands to her mouth and seemed to tremble slightly.

This was serious.

Turning toward Anna and Ben, who were watching with wide eyes and confused expressions. "You two should go to the room," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Let’s not bother mom now."

"But Erik, we want to know what happened!" Anna protested, her voice tinged with anxiety.

"Yeah, we deserve to know too," Ben added, his eyes flickering between curiosity and fear.

“Just go!” he said, getting angry as they kept bothering.

Anna pouted but left to her room, followed by Ben.

When Erik looked back at the window again, he saw his mother with something in her hands—a letter, it seemed. He crept up to the window again, trying to catch anything from it.

“...just know I died without any regrets.”

That was all Erik could hear.

So little, yet enough.

Erik didn’t need to hear anything more. He stepped back slowly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling. His breaths became shallow and ragged.

The boy kept looking outside as he kept muttering “What happens now?”

He saw the man bring out something from a bag. It was a pair of large gauntlets.

The outer parts, including the back of the hand and fingers, were made of iron, now clearly battered and cut through. There was a violet gem on the back of each gauntlet, though they were shattered. The palms were covered only with leather for greater dexterity but those seemed to have been chewed. The sturdy leather straps secured the gauntlets to the wearer’s arms were probably the only thing intact.

These were his father’s weapons, magical gauntlets that enhanced him. Looking at them alone was enough to tell anyone how the wearer had died.

Soon, the man left.

Erik stared blankly at the outside world, hoping it was somehow a lie. That his father would come back and be the unifying figure he once was.

He never did.

Previous| Royal Road| Next

Next | Royal Road

Amidst the warm glow of the crackling fireplace, two figures stood, sharing a meal of freshly prepared stew from the hunt they had just ended. One figure loomed large, a pillar of strength, protection, and wisdom, while the other, small and yet on the path to fully grasp the magnitude of his potential, gazed up with awe and curiosity.

"Listen closely, Erik," said the older figure, his voice a blend of solemnity and paternal pride. This was Kaf Blake, a man of formidable presence yet gentle demeanor, his features mirrored in his son's youthful face.

"Within each of us lies a reservoir of untapped power—an essence known as the mana core," Kaf explained, his words punctuated by a flicker of flame dancing upon each of his fingertips, a manifestation of the very magic he described. "It is the source of all magic, the ember from which limitless possibilities are ignited."

Erik's heart raced with excitement, the memory of discovering his magical abilities still vivid. It had only been a few weeks since his powers had awoken during a scary encounter with bandits in the woods but he couldn’t wait to progress and achieve greatness.

After all, ever since he was a toddler, he had listened to his mom recount myths and legends of the Knights of the Roundtable and their immortalized adventures. Any kid who had the prospect to learn magic would be extremely excited about their future, and so would Erik. He couldn’t wait to be like the heroes of legend.

“So when can I do some magic like you do?” Erik straight up asked, knowing his father’s capabilities.

"It takes time, Erik, but don’t worry," Kaf said with a smile, noticing his son's eagerness. "Learning magic is like a never-ending path of betterment—it takes practice and patience. Even small steps count in pursuing the infinite possibilities it gives you and you must always stay hungry for more–and continue improving– as a true mage has infinite potential," he said with a smile. In his thirty-five years of life, Kaf had achieved a lot, and yet he knew that he was nowhere near close to his peak. He wanted his son to understand that one can always become better if they don’t give up.

Erik nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he understood everything his father said. Still, he was determined to try his best, even if it meant taking things one step at a time.

“Let's try something simple," Kaf suggested, reassuringly touching Erik's shoulder. "Move your hands together but don’t let them touch. Close your eyes, and focus on the warmth in your chest. That's where your mana core resides. Imagine it residing inside your heart, resting but ready to ignite into something greater. Feel it move through your veins to the tip of your fingers," Kaf said, pausing for his son to follow along.

With a deep breath, Erik obeyed, shutting out the world's distractions. Slowly, he felt something moving within him, a faint flicker of energy pulsating at his core. It was small, barely perceptible, but it was there—an ember waiting to be stoked into flame. Slowly, Erik moved the heat from his heart onto his limbs, it went past his elbows, down to his fist, and finally rested at the end of his fingertips.

“Well done, Erik, you really have a gift within you,” Kaf warmly complimented his efforts as this wasn’t something a normal 8-year-old would be able to do. Well, Erik was his son after all.

Upon hearing his dad’s words, Erik opened his eyes with a grin ear to ear. He had sparks of fire between his fingertips, so weak that they would disappear from existence as soon as they appeared, but still held as something incredibly magical to the boy.

Erik would later wish he could’ve learned more from his father in the following days and weeks but unfortunately, Kaf was sent to war just two days after this memory.

A noble had come to the village with a small band of soldiers, they were going to all villages requesting two-thirds of able-bodied men to help with the war effort against the savage Demi-Humans. To save his fellow countrymen, Kaf showed his might to the noble and negotiated that only he should be taken as his strength surpassed that of hundreds of men.

Before going, Kaf asked Erik to promise that he would watch out for the family for him. Erik didn’t take him too seriously and agreed, not knowing that it was a promise he’d have to keep.

It had been a year.

_____________________________________________________

Kaf stood atop a hill, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the dim light of dusk met the encroaching darkness. The wind cut through the bog like a cold, unwelcome whisper. He felt the damp chill seep through his worn-out gear. He had taken his position here hours ago, waiting for the enemy to come. His body, despite its formidable size and strength, betrayed him with each labored breath and the persistent ache in his chest.

The war had been relentless. For months, Kaf and his Brigade had been the frontline defenders, stationed in this godforsaken bog in order to protect the coastal cities that their Nation, Draac, had in this continental land.

However, the Demi-Humans were a coalition of vile creatures that had allied after centuries of fractured conflict. They were savage and numerous, and day after day, week after week they struck the duchess and encampments that were the frontline. They peeled off the lives of brave men little by little until little more than a thousand men were alive from the initial four thousand.

He was a dead man. Not only because he willingly sacrificed his life, telling everyone to flee, as he would serve as bait to the incoming army but because his body was breaking apart. Ironically, the mighty warrior had caught a lung disease. One incurable by everyone but the best priests or doctors—something his dwindling brigade.

Leaning back against a tree, Kaf’s mind wandered through the recent horrors he had witnessed. The sight of men being hanged for desertion was unbearable. They had been left hanging from trees, their faces hidden and their bodies marked by brutal beatings. The very officers who demanded their sacrifice were often the ones who would be the first to flee when the real battle came.

He recalled the screams of officers echoing through the foggy nights, their demands for sacrifices from the poor conscripted masses. The way they spoke, as if their words could shield them from the reality of their incompetence, made Kaf’s blood boil. He had seen young men, barely out of their teens, consumed by beasts so vile they barely resembled any creature that deserved to be called part-human.

In this quiet yet daunting moment, Kaf grappled with the grim reality of what he was facing. It was too much for anyone to bear. His sacrifice would, however, save the remaining soldiers from the over ten times bigger army incoming. It would be a massacre. This brought him some comfort.

As the last rays of sunlight dissipated through the cold night, Kaf thought about his family.

‘Alice, Erik, Anna, Ben, I’m sorry I couldn’t come back but I hope you understand my decision,’ Kaf had already accepted his fate. He was happy with it, but he was fine with how things went. First, he sacrificed himself for his village, negotiating in a way that only he was sent to war—as he was much stronger than a normal person–—instead of two out of three husbands and their grown children. Then he gave his life to his comrades.

Perhaps if life had gone differently, he would’ve been a true hero. One that Draac hadn’t seen since the times of Queen Arthur. But well, that didn’t matter now.

He reached into his worn armor and retrieved a small envelope he had carefully hidden there. The letter inside was simple but heartfelt, written by his hand. He had given it to William, his friend and fellow soldier, with a solemn request: “Please, deliver this to my family if you can. Tell them I fought to the end for what I believed in. I’m proud of them all.” It was but a copy of the original. He made it so that he could be firm in his convictions until the very end.

Kaf held the envelope for a moment longer, running his fingers over the creased paper. He imagined his family receiving it, reading his final words, and perhaps finding some solace in knowing that he had died without regrets.

His hand tightened, crumbling the paper even more. “Who am I lying to… I didn’t want to die like this…” Despite the façade of acceptance he tried to maintain, a part of him still clung desperately to life, wishing for more time, more chances.

The world didn’t give him time to think, however. Just as doubts appeared in his mind, the distant, low growls of the approaching beasts broke through his thoughts. He saw them emerging from the shadows: vile creatures running on all fours and others upright, from dozens of different species. The ground seemed to tremble beneath their combined weight, and their grotesque forms loomed closer.

Kaf rose to his feet, his resolve steeled for the final confrontation. He tightened the straps of his magic gauntlets, feeling the familiar surge of power course through them. Flames erupted around him, fueled by every bit of his dwindling mana, casting an otherworldly glow across the dark, desolate bog.

The battle that ensued was a ferocious carnage. Kaf fought with a relentless will, his every strike a testament to his unmatched strength. His gauntlets blazed with fire. Each swing, punch, kick, and spell carved a path through the horde, his flames searing through the night and turning the bog into a battle between light and darkness.

The next day when scouts arrived, they only found one being standing—Kaf. Although dead, he died on his feet and remained that way. His entire body was cut and bruised, a puncture on his chest showing his heart, his left forearm bitten through, almost torn apart completely. The right side of his head, evidence of a violent blow, had been torn apart, with part of his skull exposed and fractured.

His once mighty gauntlets were battered and worn, their violet gem shattered beyond recognition.

And yet, to the shock of all.

He didn’t have a single bruise on his back. Kaf never turned his back during the battle.

He was later known by the locals as “Kaf of the Ten Thousand Kills” a protector of the human cities nearby and a demon to the Demi Humans.

Next | Royal Road

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Carina sighed and cracked her joints, then reached for her belt, which luckily was still attached to her suit. She then pressed the pocket, to release the syringe and injected herself with it, as she heard a blood-curdling scream from above her.

Adrenaline coursed through her body, as the medicine went to work. "We'll make this quick," She whispered under her breath.

However, a sudden beam of violet fire, razed down on her, forcing her, to raise a barrier of rocks and stones, to protect herself. It barely held together as the stones moulted away from the heat.

"I'll kill you!" Xyrisa yelled as the beam suddenly stopped, with her appearing in front of the Nova's barrier, within seconds, then smashed through it, to meet Carina's arm raised in defence. Yet her rage could not be stopped. With quick reflexes, she managed to grab the arm and spin her around like a flaming top, in midair before throwing her into the ground.

Yet, the Nova didn't panic. Instead, she reached for the ground, as she fell uncontrollably at an alarming rate. A wave of lava emerged out of a spontaneous crevice, alleviating the fall and her momentum while allowing her to surf on it to propel her forward. Meeting the princess halfway as their fists met each other's faces with all of their might.

Then they descended to the ground while exchanging an intense flurry of strikes at each other. Carina managed to break the deadlock, by socking her so hard with her temporary arm, that it shattered and pushed Xyrisa a little back.

The Nova quickly made a new arm and planted her legs into the ground. Molting the magma prosthetics she had on to it, to make sure she wouldn't move, then gathered energy and heated her remaining intact hand with a lava gauntlet.

The princess tried to recover quickly, but Carina wouldn't let her and continued to strike the princess without letting up. Each time, she struck, her temporary arm and gauntlet would shatter from impact, as she hit her harder than she had ever struck before.

"Aaaaaahhh." The Nova yelled, as six seconds passed by, before throwing her final punch and launching her temporary arm along with it. Sending the Princess a distance away, before an eruption-like explosion, resounded across the city.

"Keep going!" She heard Ashunde say, within her, cheering her on. Immediately, she drew her sword and raced towards the explosion.

However, it didn't stop but grew bigger, violet and brighter as it started to consume more than it intended, confusing Carina, as she braced for impact.

The unnatural phenomenon coming for her blew everything back hundreds of meters. Completely breaking away her prosthetics, as she used her remaining arm to stick the sword into the ground, and keep her from flying off.

Her leg stubs bled from sliding across the ground, but she bit her lip, to push away the pain. Then, grew new legs and an arm out of the ground, before using a small column and her sword, to raise herself up.

Just in time, as Xyrisa bared down on her again with a large blade, heavier than the Nova's short sword. Violet flames burst forth from it, as Carina coated hers in lava and iko to protect herself from the heat.

"We were together, for over a millennia and you just took him from me. Don't expect your death to be painless." The princess growled, as she struck again with even more force, before unleashing an uncountable amount of strikes on the Nova, as she searched for an opening.

"Crying after you attacked us first... Only children think like that." Carina retorted, without budging from any of her attempts. Then she bit down and gritted her teeth. Placing more effort into their exchange and slightly overpowered the Princess, before their swords clashed apart. It was finally the moment she was looking for.

With quick reflexes, she reached for the rock column she used to get up, and moulted it into a molten spear, before stabbing through Xyrisa's chest. It sunk straight through as she screamed, and then the Nova twisted it, spinning blades of lava bursting out of the spear's tip, within the child of Atlas and splitting her in half. Perfectly down to the middle of her ears, as she fell apart.

Carina stepped back, heaving and taking deep breaths as her side effects had started to creep up. Then, jumped back even further and summoned a dome to protect herself, as another explosion of violet fire, erupted out of the princess.

"Aaaaaahhh, aaaaaah, it hurts. Kaelin where are you?! It hurts so much." She could hear the Princess wail outside of her dome in pain.

The Nova knew that even though, the Xyrisa might actually be hurt, her tears were still just crocodile tears. She had a feeling that once she took the dome down, the Princess would have already regenerated.

However, suddenly breaking into her own dome and facing her, was the Child Of Atlas, carrying a livid expression. "Ever heard of cold fire?" She asked before blasting the Nova point blank with a beam of ice-cold, blue fire.

Carina got up again hundreds of meters away, while quickly trying to regain her bearings. That was when she noticed, her prosthetic knee locking, nearly frozen from the beam and shocking her of what the princess was still capable of.

Xyrisa appeared once more in a blur of fire, as the Nova spun around to punch her face in, however, the Princess caught it, smiling. While covering the arm with cold blue fire and crumbled it down, before punching her back and making her spit blood. She smirked as, she followed up with a low kick of cold fire, at her legs, shattering them as well and ending it with a back heel to her gut.

However, the Nova did not budge. Instead, she caught the Xyrisa's leg, as her own ones, manifested back out of magma, rocks and stones, within half a second and kept her standing. Then pulled together her other arm, to catch the Princess's other foot, from a futile kick.

"Unhand me!" Xyrisa yelled, as Carina, burned her with her touch and the ground below them gave way. Revealing a wide tunnel, five times their size in diameter.

The Princess panicked, thinking of the worst she could do. "Nope!" She yelled regardless of the thought, as she started to burn fire through her feet, which the Nova withstood unfazed. Then, instead swung her around down into the tunnel's walls.

The Princess popped open a doser and injected herself with it, then reciprocated the charge the Nova was following up with. The collision began caving in the tunnel all around them, however the Xyrisa managed to push her out.

Shooting Carina into the air, defenceless and disoriented. Yet, the Princess didn't want to let her chance slip, and aimed to finish her off with one last strike. This time with blazing violet fire.

Though, to her surprise, the tunnel, she leaped out of, erupted. Flowing a bright hot beam of ultramafic lava. Xyrisa watched it approach closer, then looked back at the Nova.

Who, was already a step ahead of her. She had already been pulling together lava and diamonds to her, as she was launched into the sky. A sphere of extremely hot lava, burned hovering before her palms. She knew she needed to match the eruptions, and strength to survive, but she still couldn't predict what the Princess would do.

Instead of running or dodging, the child of Atlas stood her ground, erupting forth, twin beams, of violet fire, from her palms, to match both of Carina's attacks.

"I'm not going to die here, Human!" As she yelled, her fire had started to push back, both of the Novas eruptions, steadily, but evident. "You must pay for what you did to Kaelin! Mere ants could never step against us!"

The fire got closer and doubts hidden within Carina's mind creeped back. "What am I-"

"Finish it."

The two last words, coming from deep within her, crashed all doubt she had left in her mind. It was a combination of Ashunde's and what she wanted to hear coming from herself beckoning forth every last drop of might she had in her, to see this through.

"Erupt: Twin Vulkan!"

Both of the concentrated beams of lava spun and burned white hot, before they ripped through Princess' attacks. She screamed as she managed to raise up a thick flame barrier, laced with her iko, and held the lava back to a meter and a half radius around her.

The Nova stopped the eruptions, and spun the lava around her barrier while splicing up the diamonds she gathered into billions of shards.

"You dare trap me! I was chosen! Kaelin said he'll help me get to the top." She banged her hands against her flame barrier. "Since you killed him, it's your obligation now. Let me out and let's talk this through."

Xyrisa's last words came out in a softer voice as she started to realize the situation she was in. Carina smiled and shook her head. "It's unfortunate we met."

The Princess' eyes grew wide, as the Nova clapped her hands together. "Erupt: Mycket Burial!"

On command, the dome of lava rapidly shrunk and fought against the flame barrier, for only a moment. Before it shattered in and consumed Xyrisa, it then exploded outward. Spewing up burning rain everywhere, as Carina's side effects, took over.

She descended down slowly, while her temporary prosthetics crumbled apart, as people around the world cheered. However she looked around her, seeing the carnage throughout the once beautiful city, then remembered, those she couldn't save. She gripped her fists, resolving herself to get stronger, and then she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

A clone of Saphyra had just landed by her and extended out a hand. They smiled at each other before she gave the Nova a piggyback to the nearest shuttle.

In Montreal, but entering Nur's ethereal plane...

Dusk-like smoke surrounded the two of them as far as the eye could see. The Rennayan before her was dressed in a loose-fitted tribal outfit, up to his feet. Bare, as he had them crossed over each other while floating and watching the Nova's expression.

He was not much older than her, a couple of years at most, but smiled as if nothing bothered him. He stood up, letting his feet touch the floor as he started to speak. "Anger is not such a bad thing you know, but it depends on the time, place, and who's experiencing it."

"Are you just going to waste my time?!" Nur spoke with urgency, she couldn't let what she was feeling dissipate, or else she feared she might not want to fight again.

The Rennayan smirked. "Hmph." The smoke around them faded away and revealed a room, where two young girls were playing with multiple toys and having fun.

"This was ten years ago wasn't it?" He asked her, as she stared jaw struck. Unable to comprehend what it was like to see her cousin again. How she regretted this part of her life up to this day, even though there was nothing she could do.

The scene around them, moved, without being disturbed by their presence. The Nova watched, as the younger version of herself jumped up and laughed as her cousin played a part in the pretend game that they were playing. Then, the girl looked out the window of their living room, as her expression turned to disbelief.

People were screaming and running to safety outside. However, what they were running from, was what truly stunned her. A large wave, dwarfing their house, crashed through their neighbourhood and caused carnage in its wake.

A natural disaster they couldn't see coming wreaked havoc across her city. Nur watched as the younger version of her, ran screaming, without truly warning her cousin of what was coming. They watched her run up the stairs, all the way to the roof, as she was left in despair.

The downpour of rain dropped down heavy on her as she stepped into the reality of her house being carried away by the water, with no one for kilometres that could help her. Her parents were visiting a family friend close by and her aunt who had recently fallen asleep on the couch, as they were playing, was the only adult nearby.

'Where they still alive?' As the thought crossed her young mind, she heard spluttering and splashes near her. Then the flat roof she was standing on shook violently and broke apart as it lodged onto another sturdier house, holding back a large amount of garbage and debris. She hung on to the door handle, that led back into the house for dear life.

Waves of turbulent rushing water, struck her roof walls, terrifying her more, as she prayed for everything to stop. Amidst, the splashes, she heard a voice. "Help me!"

It was her cousin, she could tell from her voice but was scared of what she might be going through. Slowly but carefully Nur stood up as her feet caused the remains of the roof to slightly tip over. It was loosely balanced against the house it was stuck against. She looked over the walls, seeing her cousin holding on with one hand on a broken tree, that had recently lodged against the same house. At least ten meters away from her.

She also realized that out of five floors to her house, she was standing on the last one. She pondered what she could do and then saw a rope her father used to raise and lower items with, to the roof.

The only problem was, she needed to let go of the door handle to get to it. She thought of her cousin once more, then let go of the handle and rushed for the rope to throw it to her.

"Grab hold of it!" She yelled out to her desperately, when she had a moment to hear her, over the constant waves splashing into her.

The rope dropped nearby and stuck onto the tree, making it easier for her cousin to grab onto it. However, the tree was beginning to dislodge from the house, it couldn't keep up with the constant battering from the tide.

"Pull yourself towards me!" Nur yelled out to her desperately.

"I can't! My left arm hurts, I can't use it!" Her cousin replied.

"Ok, I'll pull you in-" She started to say, before her voice was smothered by yells for help from dozens of people being carried away by the water, near her. She looked back over the wall, with her eyes growing wider by the second, as another large wave, larger than the one that first hit her house, looked in with incredible speed.

She didn't know at the time if she could pull her cousin in and save her, but her fear didn't even let her try. "Sorry!"

Her cousin's eyes grew wide, as she yelled after her. "Nur, don't leave me. Please help me!"

Nur ran back to the door, opened it as water spilled out, then rushed inside and hung against the guard rail of the top floor, seeing her staircase end not too far below, with an abyss of water and debris. There was silence for a few seconds, as her mind tuned everything out. Then a tremendous force of water struck the cement roof structure she was standing in and took everything along with it.

Hours passed and Nur finally woke up. She was soaked in water, and the glass window on the door had been shattered with debris all over her floor. The Sun shined rays of light through a hole in the ceiling, as birds chirped far off. The young girl, walked out through the door, to see, water, as far as the eye could see, with remains, of houses, only visible by their rooftops.

Bodies piled up against a large tree blocking much of the debris and waterway. She noticed her cousin's pink dress and walked closer on what remained of the rooftop before she dropped to her knees crying.

The Rennayan who silently stood beside the real her, spoke up. "You were rescued 3 days later, malnourished and with no will to live."

Present-day Nur walked off to the side and puked as the Rennayan continued to shift the scene as if it was a movie. "Fear caused you to make mistakes..."

The scene shifted to a younger version of her, being pushed to the side, as other people rushed to line up for food in a refugee camp. "Guilt, determined your life and anger will be your downfall."

The young version of her walked off to the side and sat, staring into the distance, scared, sad and unable to go on. An aid worker noticed her not lining up, she was extremely busy and knew her colleagues would need her help. Yet she decided to grab a bit of food, from the stall and rush to the little girl, then gave it to her.

The woman could tell, she was burdened by something and sat with her for a while to console her. The Rennayan continued speaking as the two chattered on. "If you let your emotions rule you, you'll fail to make critical decisions, like the one this woman decided here."

"I was ten! There was nothing I could do!" Nur yelled back.

"You could have saved her and you knew it, from the first wave."

"But... But..."

"The Atlantic Ocean is nearby if you were only willing to sacrifice a few of your mates and not let all of those people die. You could have also managed to push her into or near the Ocean with their help and then win against her. Before her brother becomes a problem-"

"What's your point?" Nur growled, unsure what he was trying to get at.

The man looked at her, unfazed and smiled. "My point is, your critical thinking and decision making is lacking. It could cause fatal results on your journey forward to those allied with you and to those around you. You lack confidence in yourself. What do you think would happen, if a person like that were to gain even more power?"

"Then, why did you pick me?!" The world around them shook, as her anger visibly skyrocketed. She was furious and didn't need to be talked down to like this.

The man raised his hands in the air as if he was reaching for the light. "Because of your tenacity! Why else?!" He replied back, as he looked back at her.

Nur was lost for words, she didn't know how to reply to him, or where he was going with this. However, he didn't wait for an answer as he waved his hand out once again and the scene began to change.

They were now looking at a battlefield, in a torn-up city on a Rennayan settlement, situated on a large Moon. Three people were behind a bruised and injured version of him. One healing another, as the other aided him against Tamun.

It was a fierce fight, devastating much of their vicinity, until a blur whizzed past him, followed by the splash of his partner's blood behind him, while he connected fists with the Prince. He jumped back, seeing his comrade down with a portion of the man's torso erased.

At the same time, another child of Atlas dropped down beside Tamun. "Sorry for taking a bite out of your meal." Those were the first words she uttered to her brother while smiling behind a generic, white mask, with two parallel black lines, that matched the ones on her face. The mask was mouthless but had a strip of purple and black lined diagonally from the right eye's corner.

"Please, the honour's mine, have as much as you like... You're still wearing that mask so they don't run from you?" He replied back.

She sighed, as she kicked a rock, into his comerade that was being healed by another. Which instantly killed him, while blowing apart the arm of the healer. "They've done their research, most of the Hespers and Pleiades are on a watchlist, by the remaining civilizations."

The Princess looked around smiling as her hood fell back, revealing her turquoise blue hair. "They didn't even evacuate this little Moon, since it was just you guys."

Tamun scoffed, as he looked back at the Rennayan, seemingly entering an ascended state. Dark energy rose around him, as black and turquoise veins revolved around his body.

A voice tuned into the comm of the Rennayan. "This is Central HQ, a ship carrying children and other vulnerable passengers, is about to leave orbit. However, there is a warship, that is moving to intercept. We need the assistance of a Nokayan, please send aid immediately."

"I heard that." The Princess, spoke up, making him snap out of his anger for only a moment. "I listen to the air all the time. If you want to go save them, you can, but we might be done here and move to the next city by the time you're ba-"

He didn't wait to let her finish as he drew his sword and chased after her, leaping with joy, all around the settlement. Halfway through, she froze him in place, with extreme cold, eating into his skin, as he was unable to conjure up any strength. He looked up at her in anger, as her hair flowed streaks of silver along with her eyes.

She pointed up. "Look."

Their eyes couldn't pick it up, but their senses could. A missile had just connected with the evacuee ship, blowing into pieces. He looked back at her in horror, unable to comprehend what he had just allowed to happen.

"You let innocents die... For revenge." She took off her mask, but she wasn't smiling. "You need to pay for that."

She walked up closer to him, as he cursed at her. "I'll kill you, if not me, then someone, will make you suffer."

The Princess smiled, as he took in her face and remembered it as if he couldn't forget. Then she left him with a few words. "If you only had a calmer mind."

She snapped his neck, without touching him as the wind did her the favor. The scene stopped as the Rennayan looked back at Nur.

The Nova broke the silence first. "He was there."

"Yes, he was."

"Who was she?" She said, as she walked up to her and took in the Princess' appearance.

The Rennayan smiled. "A Pleiade. They wipe out civilizations on their own and move just like their Father, but she's not for you to worry about, as of now."

Slowly he walked up to her and sighed. "Listen, dark energy, is not like any other. It plays on your emotions and eats you up. Once you touch it, you will be different."

Nur took in what he said, but was still undeterred. "Will it hurt?"

"Yes, until, you get used to it, but it always demands a sacrifice."

The world around them shook, as the Nova nodded back to him. "I'm ready."

He reached his hand out and broke, through to another dimension by punching the air. An ominous, wall of darkness devoid of light, flowed rivers of strands of light, mixed with dark matter. The man, lacking fear of the unknown, reached his hand in, then held his other out to her.

"Then, I'll step into the darkness with you."

She woke up back in the same spot, restrained by Kyrianna with her brother looking around for more. In the background, she could hear the Princess's voice going off on her, but she continued to blur it out.

It was pointless to her. She wanted to lock back in. 'Maria,' she thought, but said out loud.

"What-" The princess tried to ask before Nur shattered the restraint holding her left arm and grabbed hold of her neck. Strangling her as she looked deep into her eyes. A grayish skull, with lines representing waves, etched on with blood, began half manifesting over the Nova's face.

Kyrianna knew that something had changed about her, after witnessing her comrade's death. Streaks of silver evenly flashed along her hair before everything went completely silver, undoing her ponytail.

The Princess, twisted her body to strike back, however, Nur broke the other restraint holding her right, to block it. Then, rocketed into the sky, as a heat wave, settled around her. The velocity was too much for the child of Atlas to bear, as she struggled to pry the Nova's hand off her neck.

However, in seconds Nur suddenly stopped, just before they reached the dark ceiling of clouds, pouring an unnatural amount of snow. Without wasting momentum, she threw the princess, upwards and crashed her through the clouds.

Unfortunately, though, they weren't as soft and welcoming as clouds tend to look. Kyrianna shattered through sheets of ice, dense with moisture and static charge. However, when she was finally free, she didn't hesitate to begin swinging as the Nova came into view, but failed to connect and was rewarded by being socked higher into the sky.

Multiple times until they finally broke above the highest clouds. Then, the Princess witnessed a sudden phenomenon occurring, as Nur took a deep breath and locked eyes with her, as she blocked out the sun.

The clouds, blanketing the land beneath them, started to converge into the Nova's palm and formed a sphere. Condensing, while spinning blades of ice, and wind to an unfathomable degree, before she thrust it forward into Kyrianna's gut. "Frost: Hawa Ka Daira."

The sphere shot the Princess further up, before exploding a massive shockwave of storm and ice. Constantly shredding anything that might've existed within and around it.

Nur heaved, after bracing the winds of the aftermath, as she felt ice creeping up over her joints. However, she didn't have much time to think, as Tamun appeared right beside her in a blur of electricity. She managed to raise her left arm and cover it in ice, before he threw another right high kick, surging billions of volts.

The collision was meant to rock her back, yet she still remained unfazed, as her anger burned even hotter once she saw his face. The Prince glanced up, feeling something massive coming his way. A dark tunnel-like tornado, manifested way above them, then converged towards him and took him back down to the planet.

He caught himself standing, trying to withstand the pressure of a concentrated F7 tornado. The ground around him ripped up, while he let off a massive electrical shock, breaking apart the tornado and clearing his surroundings.

Seconds later, Nur dropped down on him like a meteor, superheated, by friction and aiming to cause him as much damage as she could. Her mask shattered, as he blocked her with one arm up.

He noticed her ice-glass eye, glowed hazel as her other shone brown. None of them emitted kindness.

He smiled, bright and undisturbed by the loss of his sister. "Did I anger you?"

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Notes:

Vulkan means volcano in Swedish.

Mycket means molt in Swedish.

I derived Nokayan from the Nok people, a civilization that existed in West Africa and present-day Nigeria between 500 BCE and 200 CE.

Hawa Ka Daira means wind sphere in Urdu.

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Though the days had crawled by at a snail’s pace, the end of Madeline and Billie’s hell-ish month of punishment was finally approaching. Soon, their plates would be full again — or at least, fullyer than the measly reduced rations they’d been on. Soon, they’d get back that glorious single free day each week. Soon, they’d no longer be subject to the horrific ordeal of daily searches.

Madeline just wished she knew when they’d no longer be under scrutiny for their perceived misdeeds. As bad as this month had been, the loss of their good-standing was likely to be the consequence that they felt most keenly in the long run.

When the month was finally over, it was Marcus who came to give them the good news. He was waiting for them in their room which was freshly trashed from that day’s overenthusiastic search, just as Madeline and Billie were freshly bruised from the guards’ overenthusiastic search of their bodies.

“You’re not here to search us again, are you?” Billie asked as they saw him.

“No,” he replied with a smile, gesturing for them to sit at the table as he did the same. “I just wanted to come by to let you know that you’ll be back on full rations tonight, and the searches will go back to their usual random schedule.”

“You didn’t think we’d be counting down the days ourselves?” Madeline asked as she collapsed into a seat.

“I suspected you would be. But I thought you’d appreciate the confirmation.”

“We definitely do,” she replied, the weight lifting of her chest confirming the truth of the words. “I think part of me was worried they’d find some fault in our behaviour or among our possessions, and then the whole thing would just go on and on forever.”

“Nope. Your behaviour has been exemplary, as has your work. And as has Liam’s work, according to his teacher.” He glanced around. “Any idea when he’ll be back today?”

Billie leant forward. “Why?”

Marcus snorted slightly. He seemed to be starting to appreciate their bluntness just as Madeline did. “Because while you two may still be in the dog house for a while yet, he isn’t. His work has been good enough for me to finally look into whether his father is in our systems?”

“And?”

“Sorry.” The guard winced. “I can only tell him directly.”

Madeline searched his expression for any clue as to the outcome, but it was no good. As close as they had become in the months she’d been here, she didn’t really know him that well. And she’d never been a great reader of human emotion anyway.

The wait for Liam’s return was agonising. Though it probably only lasted minutes, it felt like hours of silence interspersed with sporadic failed attempts at small talk which petered out before they even properly got going. When they finally heard footsteps in the corridor, Madeline practically leapt to her feet and sprinted to the door to let him in.

Liam started as the door was yanked open in front of him, but he recovered quickly. “Hey, Mads! Eager to see me?” He stepped inside, nodding at Billie before he noticed Marcus and froze.

“Hello there, Liam,” the young guard said, standing to face him. “Miss Ackers tells me you’ve been working very hard in your classes. She says that you’re almost a qualified mechanic now, ready to start work!”

“Thanks,” Liam mumbled, eyes fixed on his feet.

“And because of all your hard work, I was able to look into your father for you.”

The boy’s eyes snapped up at that.

“I’m afraid that it isn’t good news, though,” Marcus said quickly. “He isn’t in any of our systems.”

Liam’s deflated, head drooping as his eyes returned to the floor. Madeline’s heart wrenched for him. She wanted to scoop him into her arms. But she knew that if he wanted her comfort, he would come. Some hurts were too personal to share.

“Though I suppose that could be good news, eh?” the guard added with forced joviality. “It means he could still be out there, living as a free man.”

Madeline looked sidelong at the guard. She was fairly certain that the party line here was that the world outside was a horrible, dangerous place, and that those that found themselves working for the Poiloogs should count themselves as very lucky indeed. It was reassuring to see Marcus drop that pretence around them, and she felt a warm swell of gratefulness that he would do so for Liam.

“Yeah,” Liam muttered. “I suppose.”

“And, given I couldn’t bring you any information about your father, you can enquire after someone else instead.”

There was a pause as Liam considered, chewing his lip carefully. “There’s not really anyone else.” He looked up at her and Billie. “But I’m sure that Mads will have someone to ask after.”

She frowned. “What about your mother?”

“It just seems like a waste.” He slumped onto a chair with a sigh. “I haven’t seen her since the day the Poiloogs came. I already know that she’s dead. She must be. So what’s the point in wasting a question on her when I know that you have friends you need to ask after?”

“Because she’s family.” Without waiting for a reply, Madeline turned to Marcus and started recounting the description she’d picked up from everything Liam had told her about the woman.

The guard scribbled on his clipboard until she was done. “Alright then,” he said. “I’ll be back soon with anything I find out about your mother Liam.”

The boy didn’t look up, staring resolutely down at his hands folded on the table.

Marcus glanced over at her and Billie. She shrugged, giving him a tight smile before he turned back to Liam. “Anyway, I should leave you all in peace.” He nodded farewell and turned to leave, but as he reached the doorway, he paused. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring better news.” Sighing, he shook his head. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

Then, he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him and leaving the three of them alone in their room to digest the news.

None of them seemed to want to be the first to speak. Madeline didn’t want to pressure Liam at all — he needed time to come to terms with everything — and Billie followed her lead. Instead, she offered what comfort she could, with an arm draped over his shoulder pulling him gently into her side.

They walked to dinner in silence, the excitement at being back on full rations now sadly tempered. Madeline hardly even noticed what she was eating as she chewed her way through the mushy stew, her attention all focused on Liam, wishing she could see inside his mind, wishing — just as she had with Billie — that she could do something to ease his pain. But she couldn’t. Not for now, anyway.

So she did her best to enjoy her first full meal in a month, wishing that the food could fill the emptiness inside of them all.

Author's Note: Next chapter due on 24th November.

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Notes from the Author:

Berk will have a chapter released a little bit later today. 

Here is some things going on with the Van Polan Universe: 

- Taz Van Polan story is paused until Berk story gets finished. 

- Zark Van Polan, this story will become around 60K words, so it will be a shorter Novel, but it will finish right before the Writhaton. 

- Berk Van Polan Story has suffered a little bit, but I will still try to churn out at least 5 chapters a week on the story because it goes quite quickly to write a chapter. 

Chapter 3: Kill Everyone - Part 3

Trissa ran in a circle around Madeline to protect herself from the pink lightning balls her daughter was shooting toward her with what looked like no end. It has been three years since Lark left the family, and all focus has been on Madeline’s training because Zark did not have any powers, and Trissa knew that he would be Madeline’s only weakness. For a moment, Madeline stopped shooting, and Trissa stepped inside and jumped toward Madeline, who managed to block her mother’s kick at the last second. Still, it was to no avail because she flew a couple of meters away because of her mother’s immense power. Madeline started to cry when Trissa noticed her right side got swollen.

“Get up! Let’s continue!” Trissa uttered to Madeline, not satisfied with her daughter’s weakness.

“Why are you going with full power, Mom? You have been doing the harsh training for a long time now; we only do live battles, and you hurt me every time.” Madeline whined to her mother while Zark ran into the field for his crying sister.

“YOU GO BACK TO THE CABIN!” Trissa screamed toward Zark, who froze and didn’t move.

Zark knew their mother was angry, and he could not protect his sister right now, only if he had any powers to help. He went slowly back to the cabin, kicking the grass.

When she was going to turn back to Madeline, she was already walking away into the woods. Trissa tried to keep her tears away, but it was pointless. The whole family was missing Lark, and it felt more lonely with him gone. She wiped her tears while walking back to the cabin, letting Madeline sulk in the woods before going out to yell after her.

When Trissa took one step on the terrace, her expression changed as she turned around. She could feel it all over her body. Samantha stood with her beautiful white hair and blue dress like a queen. She was smiling toward Trissa with her hands behind her back. Several demons with deformed heads had come through with her, while the hellhounds were the last ones coming out from the portal before it disappeared. The situation wasn’t to Trissas advantage, especially when Madeline ran into the woods, and Zark had no powers to fend for himself.

“What do you want?” Trissa asked in an angry tone.

Samantha just laughed as one of the hellhounds toward Trissa, ready to attack.

“RIGMOTH!” Samantha screamed out in the air as the hellhound stopped and moved back in line.

The door behind Trissa opened, and Zark came out to check on the noise outside. When Samantha noticed the boy, she started laughing out loud.

“How did you and that Demon have children? I thought we could not have any children with Demons.” Samantha asked and then realized something surprising.

“Oh my Devil, he had human blood in him. That is why you have children. I knew you had escaped, but I noticed a ring on his finger and thought maybe he had married you. I didn’t know you had a child with that Demon. So interesting! Does he have both his mother and father’s powers?” Samantha asked, with Trissa ignoring the answer.

“Go back inside and Barr the door, Zark!” Trissa told her son as he moved inside quickly and barred the door after him.

“You know, Trissa! I was always angry that you betrayed your kind and fought for the humans together with the citizens of Valiant and the despicable angels interfering in the war. You were the strongest Witch ever and even a mentor to me. Then you just left.” Samantha said.

“I am the strongest Witch, not were. Who would want to live a life with blood covering my sight every day? I chose to leave because I did not wish to kill anyone anymore.”

Samantha threw something like a bowling ball, ending at Trissa’s feet. Trissa started to cry when she saw her husband’s head lying there by her feet. She wanted to pick it up but wasn’t ready for a surprise attack. Samantha’s hands started to burn yellow fire while Trissa mounted a light yellow object looking like a whip from her right hand. She kept crying, and as the demons began to move towards her, she swung the whip to the right as it snared around the neck and started to burn blue fire.

“Go back to Hell,” Trissa uttered, and Samantha quickly switched her fire to a yellow burning sword.

When Demons attacked from the left, Trissa swung her whip in a circle, hitting a couple of them as they burned down. The portal opened up behind Samantha and two men with black coats, which made Trissa upset as she didn’t understand what they were doing there.

“We wondered why you took so long time! Is it because of one Witch? Have you lost your powers or what, Samantha?” One of the men asked her.

“No! She is the former strongest Witch who has ever walked in Valiant!”

“Is that so! Let us take care of her then. Let’s have some fun then!” The other man said, and they leaped toward Trissa as she quickly pulled in her whip, using it as protection.

One of the men on the right went low and then rose towards Trissa with a low kick that was a green fire. She quickly took her right foot up as it missed her, but a high kick came from the left towards her head, and she only managed to get her arm up when the other green light hit the side of her head as she fell on the ground. Trissa quickly tried to go up as she saw her daughter running toward her, jumping over her and kicking the other man with pink light shining strong in the air as she hit him. When the other man was going to attack Trissa on the ground, Madeline swirled in the air as a giant light pink ball hit with a flykick, and the other man flew a couple of meters away. Madeline created two short whips with her hands and held them together with both hands, ready for battle.

“Mom! What is going on?”

Samantha looked excited now when she knew there was also a daughter. She imagined if she could tame her and make her work under her. Her mother could only create one thick whip, but the daughter made two whips without focusing. Samantha felt this opportunity could not slip her hands to catch a powerful Witch with Demon blood. That excited Samantha as the portal behind her opened again. Over ten men with the same outfit as earlier walked through, making Trissa realize she needed to urgently get her children out of there. Samantha pointed her sword toward Trissa and screamed:

“KILL EVERYONE EXCEPT THE DAUGHTER, I WANT HER ALIVE!”

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Chapter 2: The Siblings – Part 2

It has been ten years since Trissa carried Lark through Valiant's portals into the Paladin woods. The war ended in Valiant with a powerful spell cast by a Wizzard named Dendarven and his three apprentices, splitting Valiant into nine different worlds. Creatures born of wandering spirits of the dead during the war divided everything in Valiant, with a gatekeeper guarding every exit and entry to each world. Nobody understood why Dendarven cast a spell to shut everyone in, isolating each world to fend for themselves. World number five and the world that was the center of Valiant was called the Prison Kingdom, ruled by an evil Wizzard named Azlok. The rumor that has been going around for the last two years was that the Valiant Kingdom had lost the battle against the Demons, and with the 100TH passing away in the war, Danderven, who had moved into the center of the fight, broke his staff in two and pushed them down in the grass and everything changed with him disappearing. His apprentices escaped in three different directions.

Trissa was sitting and resting on the chair on the terrace when suddenly someone was giggling inside the cabin with her daughter running out with her little brother chasing after her. When she sees Trissa running after her, she suddenly bends to the right, shoots small light pink balls toward the floor, and flies over the rail, getting her brother yelling at her behind the rail:

"Not fair! You cheat!"

Trissa picked up her son, who was on his way to cry.

"Don't worry! You can tease her as much as you want when you get your power." She said, comforting him.

She was worried that the daughter had already shown signs of her powers when she was one year old, but the little brother, who was now four, had not shown any signs. Their father being half Demon and half human made her worried if the son only inherited the human parts in the family and maybe only is just a human. All this would mean they would have to leave the boy in the human world outside of Paladin if he did not get any powers soon, as he would not have a chance of survival in Paladin growing up here. Still, with the humans, he would have an opportunity to become a man without danger. For the first time, she had a fear of losing her family since the war when Lark almost died.

Trissa sensed Lark was close by, put her son down, and walked off the terrace, noticing that her daughter and husband were looking at a rock with a beautiful lady who looked like she was explaining something. She went to check what they were doing, and to her surprise, it was another witch talking to her husband, so she became a bit jealous and hurried beside and held his hand.

"Hi! How can the Van Polan Family help you?" Trissa said, nodding her head up and down with a forced smile.

The other Witch noticed the jealousy and pushed back her long blond hair, so her neck was completely naked to the eye, making Trissa furious.

"Are you here to die?" Trissa asked with a firm tone, catching Lark's attention as he tried to calm her down and not go berserk on their property again.

The blonde Witch reached out a letter to Lark and bowed towards them before she walked away.

"Madeline and Zark, can you return to the cabin? Mommy and Dad will come soon." Lark said, and he saw both his children running back home.

"What is going on, Lark, and why is there a stone suddenly in our area?" Trissa asked him.

Lark looked down on the ground, worried about what the Witch had told him earlier.

"The organization here in Paladin put a stone in place for the ten most vital families in Paladin; it is a precaution towards enemies, and this stone will send the children away to safety if something happens to the family. You only need to put the children on the rock and read the short text in the letter, which will transfer them away to safety.

"What do you mean if something happens? We have lived in peace here in Paladin for ten years. We have a seven-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son; nothing has happened in ten years here. What can happen at all now? We need the children to grow up, and then we can rest." Trissa said, trying to assure herself that everything was safe in Paladin.

Lark took a breath before explaining:

"Samantha has entered the first world with exit to Earth. She has taken over together with several enemies and several territories, and she had set up her next target on Witches who escaped from the war. The top of her list is you, the strongest Witch ever."

Trissa fell on her knees and looked back at her children sitting on the terrace as she tried to wipe her tears. She calmed herself and went up, turning her face away from the children as she noticed Madeline, who had garnered good vision not to see her facial expression from a distance.

"If she is after me, I must leave all three of you and travel to Valiant to put them off our trail to keep all of you safe."

"If you do that, is Madeline ready to protect the family as she has inherited your powers?" Lark wondered.

"No, I thought it was possible to train her slowly until she became fifteen. I should have been more strict with her instead of letting her play around with Zark."

"How long time is needed to make her ready for battle?" Lark asked.

"It would take two or maybe even three years, depending on her devotion and focus."

"You stay here and care for them, and I will leave for Valiant. I will spread rumors in the Pirate Kingdoms that you are there and try to keep moving all the time to create a distraction long enough for them to realize you are not there."

"But, how will you keep them in bay over there?" Trissa wondered.

"Who said I was not allowed to kill a couple of some of her collaborators? I am still in great shape compared to you to go into an intensive fight."

Both were smiling at each other because of Lark's joke, as he had mastered the skill of awful jokes.

Lark prepared his shield and sword and hid them in a backpack so his children wouldn't get to see him wielding any weapons. He went outside of the cabin where Trissa was waiting with the kids. He kissed Zark and Madeline on the forehead and hugged them hard as if it was the last time he would see them again.

"Take care of your brother, Madeline!" Lark said, grabbing Trissa's arm as they walked away a couple of meters from the children.

Lark smothered Trissas cheek, reminding himself that this was the last time he would see his wife.

"Do not forget to teach the spell in the letter to Madeline," Lark said, and they kissed each other.

Trissa had tears in her eyes, realizing the dangerous path that her husband was going on. Trissa had no clue about the secrets her husband was hiding. Lark knew he would not survive the battles against the top lieutenants that had appeared in the Valiant Kingdom. He knew it was going to end with him losing his life. Lark did not care; as long as he spread the rumors and tried to keep them hidden, Trissa should have enough time to train the children to protect themselves. They should be more powerful than their parents because they are of mixed blood; it should be fine, Lark thought and walked away for the last time from his family, his life, hoping that his wife would succeed in teaching their children how to survive in this cruel world.

[ Previous ]

Series Blurb: To keep the multiverse in check, sometimes you've gotta get your hands dirty. When Amon took on the mission to find two missing agents, she didn't expect her brother to betray her in the process. Nor did she anticipate his betrayal would leave her stranded, with no way home and living off of scraps. Determined to accomplish her mission and bring him to justice, she will do anything--even if it means the fate of the world she was meant to keep intact.

Warnings: Violence

-----

Amon wandered through Gloom Avenue in a daze, narrowly avoiding several clashes with her fellow citizens. Her feet ached from running from the northern districts to the southern reaches of Kuvash, as there was no time to pause and rest in case the man continued to follow her.

Thankfully, these markets hosted all the city’s discarded people. Countless homeless people—from veterans with stumped legs to families of four with skeletal children—reached out to the young crowds that wandered the streets, begging for even a bronze piece.

One child went so far as to tug on a man’s slacks. “May I have a piece of bread, sir?”

The man could not have been too old—perhaps in his mid-twenties. That was an adult for Humans, right? Yet how he kicked the child back reminded Amon of the playground bullies. He smiled the entire time and shook his head afterward.

“These clothes were made by Quutu on the Surface. Don’t sully it, please.” He wrapped his arm around his date and continued through the street.

Amon narrowed her eyes. Without thinking about it and forgetting why she was even in the markets, she followed the pair deeper into the crowd.

On Gloom Avenue, the streets weren’t lit by streetlights like the rest of the city. Instead, voidlights floated in the air—remnants from when the Kishpu-La’atzu House held more power in the capital than the Emperor himself. Orbs that resembled a swirling abyss cast a haunting glow of violet over the street. Many compared it to the entrance to the Hells, a place many claimed to remember from a past life.

Amon couldn’t say the same.

The couple stopped by a flower vendor. The man who so easily kicked a child picked up a gathering of flowers as though they would fall apart at his touch.

Amon leaned against a storefront, blending in quite easily with the other homeless people. She peered at the flowers.

Buttercup and Cowslip… She mused*. To show a newfound affection?*

The man slipped a few coins onto the florist’s stand, not seeming to care that some were gold pieces for what would have easily been worth a silver and a handful of bronze. The vendor quickly pocketed them, a red blush blooming across his cheeks as his lips quirked into a grin.

Amon smirked as a plan formed in her mind. 

She pushed off the wall, following a few paces behind the couple. 

“—thought they could beat me, ha!” The man chortled as he waved his hands in the air. “I used to train with the Berserkers before deciding a better life awaited me. So, they were no match against this fist of steel!” He held up his fist as he spoke. 

Amon rolled her eyes. His date did the same.

Footsteps rushed behind her. She tensed.

“Have you seen a Kenra with white hair and purple eyes?” Someone asked in between heavy breaths.

She needed to hurry and find shelter. But the man…

“I’m an emissary from Runda. She’s wanted for the murder…”

She glared at the back of the man’s head, filing away his face for later as she ducked into the first shop she found.

A bell jingled above her. The door’s movement brought a gentle breeze, which stirred up the dust until it sparkled in the air.

Shelves upon shelves of curios greeted her. There seemed to be a bit of everything. Clothing allegedly blessed by the oracles, armor that shimmered with enchantments, small mechanical devices far too advanced for this realm… there was no limit to what was in the shop. 

Amon took a step closer to the wares. It was her first time in the store, and she should pretend to be a normal customer, right?

She drew closer to the shelves. There were even tomes about some of the forsaken gods, which Amon thought had long since burned down with her old home.

No… with Persi’s old home…

No one stood behind the shopkeeper’s desk, though there was a cup of tea sitting beside the stool with steam still rising from its copper depths. Amon took a deep whiff, smiling at the sweet, floral fragrance. White tea with a hint of sugar and cream. Her sergeant.

She trailed her fingers against the glass display. Jewelry glinted underneath, some made of gems Amon didn’t recognize. They must have come from the Surface. Further behind the desk, chained behind a myriad of enchanted runes, were racks on racks of weapons, perhaps for the self-proclaimed enforcers who loved to patrol these corners of the city.

A curtain hung from the back wall, which must have led to the part of the shop where the shopkeeper was. Amon elected to wait before finding a new hiding place, browsing the shelves filled to the brim with books. Some caught her eye, especially the ones which declared to know the truth about the Divines.

Dede would have loved these, Amon thought as she fingered some of the leather spines. Guilt immediately welled up in her, along with the phantom screams from that night oh so many years ago.

She stepped away from the shelves. No, she shouldn’t be thinking about him. At least, not fondly. He didn’t deserve it right now with what he’s put her through... putting her through.

It was supposed to be a simple job, one they had done so many times before. And yet here she was—in a world that wasn’t her home, playing pretend in an empty shop, with a dead person’s memories threatening to swarm her brain at any moment. And where was he? Gone, along with their seniors.

The curtain swung open, revealing a crooked old woman with a face covered in cakey makeup. She muttered to herself as she swept behind the desk.

Both froze when they noted the other.

The old woman frowned; her eyes exceptionally big behind a thick pair of glasses.

“No, no, no.” The woman rounded the corner of the counter faster than one her age should have been able to, raising the broom in warning. “You go tell that bastard Faraldin that I will not be throttled into another price rise.”

Amon jumped back, her hands up in surrender. “I’m not involved with him, I swear!”

“Sure, you’re not.” Swing. Thwack!

Pain blossomed across Amon’s cheek as her vision swam. She raised her left hand, touching the skin in shock.

“Now just what…” The old woman reached forward but Amon quickly jumped out of the way.

“What is wrong with you?” Amon said, eyes wide as the woman’s demeanor softened, her focus on Amon’s raised hand.

“Let me see your hand or I’ll hit you again!”

Not wanting to provoke her, Amon complied, reaching out gingerly with her left hand.

The woman grabbed it, tugging her forward with more strength than she looked like she wielded.

The shopkeeper examined the back of her hand, mumbling nonsense to herself in the Common tongue.

“You come from the House of Starlight, don’t you, child?”

This would be the time to lie. It had to be. Her family’s name—their House—only brought death and destruction. It was the entire reason her second ‘family’ had abandoned her and left her to fend for herself in the capital.

No, Amon thought with a subtle shake of her head. That didn’t happen to me.

But as she stared at this woman, she recognized the glint of knowledge—and all too familiar fear—in her eyes. There would be no point trying to fight it. She could continue playing pretend.

The shopkeeper’s hand was warm as it held her own. Once again, Persi’s thoughts invaded her own—noting how this woman’s hand differed from the coldness of her guardians as they told her they were done covering for her, that she needed to find her own place to hide and live a quiet life until death claimed her.

Which is why…

“Yes. I am the second child of the House.”

There was no gasp, no jumping away from her as though her very skin was poison. No… this woman instead cocked her head to the side, examining Amon from top to bottom.

“So, you’re the false heir, then? Been on the run for quite a few months. Everyone thought you would be dead by now.”

Amon quirked an eyebrow. “I thought they would be more interested in my brother’s whereabouts.”

The woman shrugged. “You were more in the public eye. The Jewel of the Skies, and we used to call you so with pride.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “How quickly everyone turned on you when it was your brother who committed the highest treason.”

“But you didn’t?” The sound of armor clinking outside caught Amon’s attention. Her hands warmed. Where would she run?

The old woman cocked her head to the side. “I have a feeling we won’t be able to discuss as much today. But, no, I didn’t. Some of us see reason instead of being overrun with fear. It’s better to let go of the pains of the past than hang on to them and ruin our present.”

But Amon was more focused on the growing number of Guardians outside. To make matters worse, some Berserkers and Guardsmen were joining up with them as well, trying to figure out what brought their presence.

“None of you have any jurisdiction here,” a Guardsman said. “You leave these blokes to fend for themselves while you protect the high and mighty folks up north. Tell us who you’re after and we’ll handle it just fine.”

“We go where the Oracles direct us. And unlike you, we have nothing holding us back from that goal.”

Amon’s hands began to shake. They were crowding the doorway.

She swung around to face the old woman, who was organizing some of the shelves Amon perused earlier.

“If you still see me in that same light, surely you have a way for me to avoid getting arrested tonight?”

The woman hummed and plucked a few books off the shelf. “I don’t need any Guardians running amok in my shop. As you’ve probably seen, not all of this was gathered by the Valkyr.”

Amon bit her lip, thinking fast. “What about Faraldin? You fear he’s giving you another price raise, right? That usually means he’s down on workers.” The rotten bastard was notorious for his protection taxes, but he otherwise seemed like a good man—always willing to offer others work. Amon avoided him like the plague, afraid he would sell her to the highest bidder. But if she went there for business…

“He did place an order a few weeks ago. Most of the children are too scrawny to survive the trip to North Vil.” The old woman peered down at Amon, a grimace lacing her wrinkled face. “Not that you’re much better, darling. But you’ve made it this far.”

The shopkeeper brought a pile of selected books to the front counter, taking her time wrapping them up individually and placing them in a satchel.

Amon fiddled her fingers, tapping her foot as she reverted to an old habit—her Sight. Focusing on her vision and what she could see, the world around her shifted until the energies of the world—both magickal and natural—revealed themselves to her. It would give her a headache if she stared for too long, so she made sure to take everything in fast. Only the light, calming blue of sincerity surrounded the shopkeeper. No trace of yellow or imminent betrayal.

“And one more thing,” the old woman went to the racks of clothes shuffled into one corner of the store, pulling out a cloak engraved with silver sigils. “It’s enchanted to confuse whoever is looking at you into thinking you’re something else. Like a glamour, without changing your form.”

Amon exchanged the cloak with the tattered one that had come with her all the way from that dreaded night decades ago. The shopkeeper gagged as she dropped it into a nearby trash bin.

“Now,” the old woman handed the bag to Amon, “go ahead before they storm my shop. And keep that bastard from raising the tax!”

Amon nodded and walked out the door. She kept her pace at a normal glide down the stairs, making sure not to stare too much nor too little at the gathered crowd of reinforcements—who seemed much more focused on each other than their surroundings. 

On the other side of them, propped up against a wall, sat the young man who had chased her all this way. A healer knelt in front of him, dabbing at his mouth which was stained blue. His head rolled to the side, his golden eyes landing on her.

Amon tensed, waiting for him to start yelling at her, but his eyes slowly closed—his body falling limp to the ground. 

The healer yelled out to the Guardians, who rushed over to him.

But Amon was already turned around, heading back to the northern districts.

[Previous Chapter][Patreon][Cover Art]

“Love?” Kraid scoffed. “You really want to do a recap of your lovelife?”

“Yes, I do,” Vell said. “Who you love and how you love them is how you express some of your deepest thoughts and feeling.”

It was complete bullshit, but Vell hoped it was the kind of complete bullshit that would appeal to Yuna’s apparent obsession with vapid therapy techniques. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or ashamed when the blatant manipulation worked.

“That does sound like a good idea,” Yuna said. Kraid snorted with derision at the very concept of love.

“Fine. But Vell’s going first.”

“Why? Don’t have any love to show?”

Over the many years of their rivalry, Kraid had shown no affection for anything beyond himself and the suffering he could cause. Vell was hoping that seeing Kraid for the loveless wretch he really was would finally end Yuna’s sympathy for him.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Kraid said. “But why don’t you start us off, Vell?

“If you insist,” Vell said. “Let me show you one of my old relationships.”

“Is this really how we want to use an incredibly complex device?” Yuna said. “You have like three ex-girlfriends on campus. I could just talk to them.”

“Two exes and one very healthy ongoing relationship, thank you,” Vell clarified. “And I’m not showing you any of those relationships. We have to go a little further back.”

The memory projection changed, and the three found themselves in the most cramped space yet. Thankfully it was only a virtual projection, so they did not have to deal with the uncomfortable logistics of being crammed into a mid-size SUV. Vell kicked his legs up on the dashboard and looked at his teenage self in the backseat, currently cuddling with a skinny brunette.

“I hope you’re not planning to scare me off with anything salacious, Vell,” Yuna scolded.

“Of course not. We’re a few weeks late for that memory anyway,” Vell said. “Just give it a minute.”

Vell sat back and forced them to endure his memories of high school romance for a while. Thanks to their shared mental connection, Kraid and Yuna got to bask in the awkwardness of pubescent flirting for a while, a torment made all the worse by the fact Vell was terrible at flirting. Kraid sighed at another awkward compliment and briefly contemplated building a time machine to kill Vell as a teenager just so that terrible sentence would never exist.

“How have you ever gotten laid, Harlan?”

“Beats me,” Vell said. “Probably because I’m tall. If I was five foot four I would’ve probably died a virgin.”

“Now you’re just going to die,” Kraid said.

“You first, cunt,” Vell said. He looked over his shoulder and saw the girl his teenage self was with tug at her collar. “Ah. Here we go.”

Vell’s girlfriend leaned in for a kiss. In spite of all the hormonal horror, Kraid and Yuna could feel an undeniable sincerity fluttering in Vell’s heart. Vell was in love. Possibly for the first time in his life. The look of utter disgust on Kraid’s face told Yuna the emotion was genuine. Then, as the crescendo of emotion swelled, it was caged. Teenage Vell pulled away from the kiss.

“Hey, Laura, stop,” Teenage Vell said. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

“Vell, you are the only guy I know who tries to talk their way out of a girls pants,” Laura said. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Stop, this is important,” Vell said. “There’s something you should know. It’s a long story, but I kind of...died.”

“What, like you’re one of those guys whose heart stopped for a few seconds and now you think you saw heaven or something?”

“Not exactly.”

Teenage Vell lifted his shirt, and Laura seemed momentarily excited that the canoodling was back in session. Then Vell removed the illusion bracelet he wore, revealing the scar sliced across his midsection. Yuna could actually see all thoughts of canoodling get blasted out of Laura’s head. Vell recapped the train wreck, sparing Laura most of the gruesome details, but still making it very clear that he had been cut in half and resurrected under mysterious circumstances.

“What the fuck?” Laura began. “So you’re like, a zombie? I’ve been making out with a zombie.”

“No, no, it’s complicated, but I’m alive,” Vell said.

“You were dead and now you aren’t, that seems pretty undead to me,” Laura said.

“It’s like you were saying, like my heart stopped and then I got resuscitated, I’m just-”

“CPR is not the same as getting sliced in half and stuck back together, Vell.”

The argument escalated as Vell tried to explain his circumstances, and Laura irately refused to believe he was anything other than an undead abomination. Her anger eventually grew to the point she started tugging on the handle of the door to escape. Vell didn’t stop her from leaving, but he did follow her out the door.

“Laura, come on,” Teenage Vell pleaded. “Just listen to me. I thought we were-”

“I thought you were a human,” Laura spat back. “Not some zombie freak!”

Laura stormed off without another word, leaving Teenage Vell to wallow in utter misery. A misery the three spectators could all share in, thanks to Yuna’s technology.

“Wow,” Kraid said, as he circled Teenage Vell’s miserable memory. “That was pathetic.”

Yuna ignored him and took a more sympathetic bent.

“I’m sorry, Vell,” she mumbled. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Yeah,” said the modern Vell. “I won’t lie, that one stung for a while.”

With the benefit of hindsight, Vell could easily see how the brutal rejection had cast a shadow over his relationships for years afterwards. It wasn’t until he’d started at the Einstein-Odinson and started to make friends just as strange as himself that Vell had been able to get over his fear of rejection, and even then it had taken a while.

“But I dealt with it,” Vell said. “Mostly. Probably still some unresolved bullshit rattling around in here.”

“If it’d help, I could kill Laura for you,” Kraid suggested.

“The only person you should kill for me is yourself,” Vell said. “Now, let’s see your complete absence of a love life.”

“Well, about that,” Kraid said. He swept his skeletal hand across the scene, and the memory shifted. The suburban parking lot vanished and was replaced by a dense arboreal jungle, with no sign of civilization for miles around. The memory of Kraid trekked through the dense foliage, looking not much different than his current self.

“When and where are we?” Yuna asked.

“Jungles of Borneo, about a decade ago,” Kraid said.

“Presumably on your way to kill an endangered tiger,” Vell said, noting the rifle slung over past Kraid’s back.

“Rhino, actually, but I would’ve shot a tiger if I’d seen one,” Kraid said. “Should be just a second, and…”

Kraid trailed off as his younger self found the rhino he was looking for, lined up his shot, and put a skeletal finger on the trigger. Both Kraid’s took a second to smile as the younger one prepared to kill an endangered animal. A loud gunshot echoed through the jungle, and the rhino panicked for a moment and thrashed in pain before falling over dead.

“Oh, is that what you love?” Vell said. “Killing endangered animals?”

“Wait for it,” Kraid said. His younger self did not look satisfied, but outraged. He checked his gun and found it was still loaded -Kraid had never fired a shot. With a frustrated huff, Kraid teleported down to the rhino’s corpse in a flare of black magic.

“Hey! Get away from my kill!”

Another flare of black magic flashed near the rhino’s corpse, and a tall, red-haired woman stepped out of the green-black fire, rifle still slung over her shoulder. She glared at Kraid without an ounce of hesitation or fear.

“There’s only so many of these left in the world, lady,” Kraid said. “I wanted to kill that one.”

“Well tough shit, slowpoke,” the woman said. “Now get away from my rhino, I’ve got to get that thing ready to eat.”

“You’re going to eat it?” Kraid scoffed. “There’s a conservation group camped out a mile that way. Rub their noses in it.”

“I know, I was going to eat it with them,” the woman said. “Cut it up and serve it to the gang, then tell them what they just ate after they’re all finished.”

Kraid raised an eyebrow. After a moment of consideration, he stepped aside.

“You know, I have a wonderful recipe for rhino steaks,” Kraid said.

“I’m open to recommendations,” the woman said. She extended a hand in Kraid’s direction. “Alicia Crowley.”

“Alistair Kraid.”

From there, the memories started to jump rapidly. First Yuna and Vell got to see the utter horror on the look of conservationists faces after their unwitting meal of rhino. Kraid and Crowley sat on the sidelines, basking in their horror and looking utterly delighted. Then the scene jumped to the duo cutting brake lines in cars, cutting down trees in the rainforest, and then hopped to the two in an office, poring over paperwork while bantering with each other.

“It’s a little hard to tell, but in this one we were sabotaging insurance claims,” Kraid said. He sighed with fond reminiscence as he watched Alicia pore over the paperwork. “Ah, Crowley. I’ve never met anyone so good at denying healthcare to cancer patients.”

The memory of Kraid made a giant red X on one of the forms and then showed it off to Crowley. They both laughed together, with the exact same malevolent chuckle.

“If this weren’t so horrifying it’d be kind of sweet,” Yuna said. Vell nodded in agreement, moreso with the “horrifying” aspect.

The memory shifted to Kraid and Crowley enjoying a meal in a fine parisian restaurant. Vell was shocked to see a moment of actual, evil-free romance, until the couple got up and fled without paying for their meal. In spite of the pointless and petty acts of evil, Vell could sense that same rush of emotion that had suffused them all during his memories of Laura. Kraid was in love. Somehow.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Vell said.

“I’m a very complex individual, Vell Harlan.”

Yuna leaned in close and examined the couple as the scene shifted to a beachfront date. The sunset shimmered in Alicia Crowley’s hair, and Kraid’s heart fluttered. Then Alicia raised a finger and fired a blast of destructive energy at an off-shore oil rig, causing an environmental calamity that would have consequences for years to come, and Kraid’s heart started to pound like cannonfire.

“You really loved her,” Yuna said. She looked elated that her theories might finally be validated.

“Kraid,” Vell said. The underlying horror was starting to seep through. Vell had never seen or heard of this woman before. “What happened to Alicia?”

All Kraid offered in return was a toothy smile.

“Kraid!”

The cannonfire heartbeat slowed, and became steady. Too steady. Kraid brushed one hand across Alicia cheek -and then he pivoted on top of her, and put both hands around her neck. Alicia laughed it off, until the pressure tightened. Yuna backed away in horror.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m a scientist,” Kraid said, as he watched his younger self. “This is an experiment.”

Alicia started to kick, and curse, and cast spells that bounced off Kraid’s magical protections. Kraid never loosened his grip.

“What are you doing?” Yuna demanded again. “Stop it! You love her!”

Yuna tried to grab Kraid and pull him away, but her hands passed right through the memory projection.

“I did,” Kraid said. “Alicia Crowley was the only person I’ve ever loved, and probably will ever love. And that’s why I had to do this experiment. Wouldn’t get another chance.”

Alicia’s struggles started to slow as her face turned blue.

“Had to see if I was capable of it, of course,” Kraid said. “That’s why I went for strangulation. Could’ve just snapped her neck, obviously, but that wouldn’t have given me any time to think about what I was doing. Really had to give myself the time to have doubts and regrets, you know?”

Alicia’s struggles stopped, and with her last breaths, she choked out a muffled plea for mercy. Kraid didn’t even blink. As helpless spectators to the memory, Yuna and Vell could only watch in stunned silence as the scene played out -and came to a brutal end.

“Turns out I can power through,” Kraid said. He looked at his past self with nothing but admiration. “There is nothing in existence that can stop Alistair Kraid from doing whatever he wants. Not even love.”

The younger Kraid didn’t even blink as Alicia’s eyes closed forever. Yuna stared at the younger and current versions of Kraid and saw the exact same satisfied smile on both. In his eyes there was no hesitation, remorse, or regret. He had killed the only person he’d ever loved, and he was happy about it.

“You- you’re a monster,” Yuna said.

“Wow, it’s almost like me and Vell have both been trying to tell you that the whole time,” Kraid said. Vell felt absolutely no satisfaction at being proven right. “Do you get it now? Do you get why I’m evil?”

“No,” Yuna whimpered. “None of this makes sense, there’s no reason-”

“Exactly!”

Kraid’s delighted shout boomed across the memory of a beach, and he stomped forward to meet Yuna face to face.

“Evil is not an outcome, it is not a result, not the answer to some mathematical formula of traumatic injury and mommy issues,” Kraid said. “Evil is a choice. An action, a decision, that anyone can make, at any time, for any reason.”

Kraid leaned in low and bared his teeth in a predatory smile at Yuna.

“Even no reason at all.”

“But that’s not- people are supposed to have reasons, there’s supposed to be cause and effect,” Yuna whimpered.

“I see you’re still struggling with the concept,” Kraid said. “Well, let’s have Professor Kraid give you a remedial lesson in evil. I have some lovely memories of cannibalism I’ve been dying to show you.”

The memory tried to shift, and Vell yanked it back. He could feel a stabbing pain in his head, like a migraine, as he finally started dueling with Kraid for control of the mindspace.

“Oh, finally we get to the good stuff,” Kraid said. He pulled back, and half-formed memories of burning meat briefly flickered into existence before Vell pulled them back to memories of school equipment and study sessions.

“Yuna, I think it’s time to leave,” Vell insisted, as he struggled for control of the memory projector. “Can you shut this thing off?”

“Not while you’re stuck between memories,” Yuna said. “I need a stable scenario or we’re all risking mental damage.”

“You can’t just unplug it?”

“I wasn’t expecting a mental battle of good versus evil today, Vell!”

“You brought the evil,” Vell said. “Just get it done, I’ll get us to a stable memory.”

The simulated world around them started to churn between a storm of blades and blood and a bastion of studies and childhood games. The stabbing pain in Vell’s head only intensified as the duel for control continued. Kraid hardly looked bothered.

“I really love situations like this,” Kraid said. “I mean, ninety nine percent of the time battles for mental supremacy are entirely metaphorical, but this?”

Kraid gestured to a blur of viscera and Lego sets by his side. Vell closed his eyes and strained with focus.

“Completely literal,” Kraid continued. He chuckled at Vell’s struggle, and doubled down. Though the pain in Kraid’s own head grew, the misshapen images around them started to coalesce into images of violence and brutality.

“I’m not letting you do this,” Vell grunted. Every image of horror in Kraid’s head unleashed at once would overload Yuna’s mind, just like had happened last loop.

“Nobody’s ever ‘let’ me do anything,” Kraid said. “They just can’t stop me.”

The image of Alicia Crowley briefly flickered through the maelstrom of their mental duel, and Vell faltered slightly. His legs gave out for a moment, and Kraid pushed the advantage.

“Decent work, Harlan,” Kraid said. “But we’re both at our limit, and you’re losing.”

Vell stood up straight, stopped pretending to strain, and smiled at Kraid.

“Thanks for letting me know you’re at your limit.”

“Wh-”

The expression of surprise turned into a shout of pain as stabbing agony burned through Kraid’s mind. The mental battle came to a decisive end as Vell stopped toying with memories of schoolwork and childhood toys and started focusing on his actual strongest memories.

The maelstrom of conflicting memories solidified into his dorm room from last year. Skye sat on the couch next to Vell, already napping on his shoulder, while Harley struggled to stay awake in another chair, and Lee tried to fight off yawning as she laid out preliminary plans for Harlan Industries. Harley finally fully dozed off, and Lee politely asked permission to spend the night, which Vell gave, before she too leaned back and fell asleep. Vell stayed awake for a while longer, just to enjoy the presence of his favorite people, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. A moment he wanted more than Kraid had ever wanted anything.

“Got it!”

The pleasant memory snapped out of existence, and Vell was sitting in a dumb chair wearing a dumb helmet again. He removed Yuna’s helmet and popped back into reality. Kraid did the same, but he threw his helmet aside so violently it shattered on impact. Kraid took a few stumbling steps forward and brushed a skeletal hand across his face. His blackened bone hand came away smeared with red from a nosebleed.

“Feeling alright, Alistair?”

Kraid turned around and sneered at the expression of smug satisfaction on Vell’s face.

“So that’s the second time I’ve beaten you,” Vell said. “I’m kind of starting to feel like you can be stopped.”

Whatever confidence Vell felt lasted about as long as it took for Kraid’s bewildered expression to split into a satisfied smile. He wiped the last of the blood from his nose and then licked the remnants off his skeletal fingertip.

“I’ve always loved a challenge,” Kraid said. “Keep this up and you might actually be one.”

Kraid kept the smile on his face for as long as it took him to slither out of the room. The moment the door slammed shut behind him, it dropped into a scowl, one that lingered until he returned to the runecarving lab. It was abandoned, since all the students were off being tutored elsewhere, just as Kraid intended. He stomped past crates of machinery on his way to the office, where Helena waited.

“Your little excursion go well?”

“No.”

Helena looked up from her work. She was still confused on how Kraid, so vicious and violent in every other respect, could handle defeat with such ease. There was supposed to be a little vengeful muttering, at least.

“You don’t seem bothered by losing,” Helena said.

“Throwing a fit after every setback is a good way to make no progress at all,” Kraid said. “Besides, I always win in the end.”

“What if you don’t?”

“I will,” Kraid said, with utter certainty. “Especially against Vell Harlan. He’s too...ordered.”

Helena thought back on everything she knew about Vell. Absolutely none of it could be described as “ordered”. It was barely even coherent, most of the time.

“I’m not sure that’s how I’d describe it.”

“It’s what it is,” Kraid said. “Sure, Vell Harlan is surrounded by chaos, but the man himself just doesn’t have it in him. He desperately tries to keep everything together, keep everyone safe, keep it all from falling apart. He’s trying to build a house of cards in a hurricane. Vell can pull all the clever tricks he wants, only takes one little gust to knock it all down.”

Kraid crossed his arms behind his back and kept strolling to his desk.

“It’s order versus chaos,” Kraid said. “And chaos always wins.”

“If chaos always wins, isn’t that order?”

“Don’t get pedantic, Marsh,” Kraid said. “I’m about to do you a favor.”

Helena tilted her head as far as her limited mobility would allow.

“Oh?’

“Yes. Vell’s victory isn’t a problem, but he’s getting confident,” Kraid said. “I don’t like that. It’s time to put myself back on top.”

Helena smiled so wide it started to hurt her cheeks. Kraid had been intending to save that little scheme for after everything had wrapped up on campus, but Helena was more than happy to change the schedule. Kraid sat by the sidelines and started writing up his schedule for tomorrow. Being the richest man on Earth (again) was a special occasion, made all the more special by the fact it would be taking Vell down a notch too.

Kraid loved the saying “pride goeth before a fall”, but when he said it, it meant his pride going before someone else’s fall.

***

Far away, oblivious to any pride or any falls, Vell Harlan was looking for someone. Yuna had run out of the room only seconds after shutting down her experiment. Rather than track down Kraid, Vell had gone looking for her. Thanks to a trail of passers-by who had definitely seen a young woman crying her way across campus, Vell tracked Yuna down easily. She hadn’t even closed the door to her dorm all the way.

“Yuna? You in there?”

Though he usually waited for an invitation, the sound of something being thrown across the room compelled Vell to investigate. He stepped into the dorm and narrowly avoided a book being thrown towards a box. Yuan was on the other side of the room, grabbing her academic supplies and tossing them violently across the room.

“Yuna, what are you doing?”

“Packing up,” Yuna snapped. “Apparently my entire academic career-”

She tossed another book at the wall.

“-is a complete waste of time!”

“That’s not true,” Vell said.

“Of course it’s true,” Yuna said. “I have spent my entire life under the delusion that all human behavior is ultimately logical. That there are causes to the way we act, and if we can find the cause, we change the acts. But I was wrong!”

Yuna grabbed one of her neurology textbooks and stared down at the image of a brain on the cover.

“I was wrong,” Yuna whimpered. “Sometimes people are just evil. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

She tossed the book down gently, letting it fall at her feet with a dull thud.

“How do you do it, Vell?” Yuna pleaded. “How do you go on knowing that evil is just...inevitable? That even if we do nothing wrong, it can just happen, anywhere, any time, from anyone, and you can’t stop it?”

“You just go on, because there’s not really any other option,” Vell said. “Our ability to do evil is part of being human, and once you realize that, you’ve pretty much got four options. You can do the cowardly thing and join it, you can do a different cowardly thing and ignore it, you can do a stupid thing and convince yourself you can fix it, or you can do the stupidest thing you can possibly do.”

Vell took a seat on a couch and picked up on of the books Yuna had thrown across the room.

“You can fight it,” Vell said. The tone of his pep talk was so bewildering Yuna had to sit down too.

“Why is that the stupid option?”

“Because it is one of the only fights you cannot possibly win,” Vell said. “But you have to do it anyway. You have to fight evil every day, even if it’s just the evil inside yourself. We can’t make the world perfect, Yuna. But we can always make it better.”

Vell turned the neurology textbook over in his hands and gave it back to Yuna.

“That machine you built was amazing,” Vell said. “And I really appreciated the chance to look back at some of the shit I’d been through and get perspective on it. Maybe you can’t fix everyone, but you can help some people, and that’s worth it.”

After a few seconds of silent thought, Yuna took the textbook back. She had bent a corner of the hard cover by throwing it at the wall, and though she tried to straighten it out, the bend remained.

“Vell. Why do you think you are the way you are?” Yuna asked. “Looking through some of your memories...god, you have every reason to be bitter, angry, vengeful. Why aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Vell said, shrugging. “We’ve clarified people don’t need a reason to be evil. Why do I need a reason to be good?”

“I think having reasons certainly helps,” Yuna said. “But you’re right. If people can choose to be evil for no reason, then they can choose to be good for no reason.”

“Exactly,” Vell said. “So, can I trust you to pick up all these books and get back to work?”

“Absolutely,” Yuna said. “I have a lot to work on. Exit path stability, projection integrity, working out side effects-”

“Side effects?”

“Oh, of course,” Yuna said. “Nothing serious, naturally, worked all that out already, but there is a small chance you might be unable to see the color purple for several hours.”

Vell looked around.

“Is anything in this room purple?”

“The curtains, yes.”

Vell stared at the curtains for several seconds.

“They look brown, don’t they?”

“Yep.”

“If you drink some water and lie down the symptoms will clear up faster,” Yuna advised.

“Eh, I’ll be fine,” Vell said. He wasn’t particularly attached to the color purple.

PART ELEVEN HUNDRED

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]

Tuesday

“Is this a joke?” Lar’ee asked the universe at large, even as he stood at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement level where the laundry was with his hand on the banister rail. The light switch to allow the bare minimum of illumination consisted of a chain linked to a swinging lightbulb overhead. That type of wiring hadn’t been used in the industry in decades.

Curling his hand tighter around the rail, he gave it a slight shake, then shoved it hard enough to simulate Eva losing her footing and toppling against it. The way the damned thing wrenched off the wall and folded over the one-story drop towards the concrete floor had him believing the whole damned thing had been held in place by the rust from the disintegrated bolts.

And Eva had been climbing these stairs however many times a week to do her washing? Hell, no! Despite his own promise yesterday morning to upgrade her apartment and give her a laundry of her own, much like the guys had upstairs (Sam had mentioned he wanted that for her, too), there was still an entire building of apartments and some of those had little kids.

This is a disgrace!

He took a critical look at the ceiling height and the swinging light, as well as the stairs and the banister rail. Nearly a decade on the job sites gave him an accurate eye for rough measurements, and he always allowed for a few inches more for inconsistencies within the products. In the worst-case scenario, he’d return to the hardware store for more supplies.

But first, he had to barricade the door to stop anyone from coming down here until he was finished.

He turned and opened the door that led out onto the ground floor, almost barrelling into Mrs Jasper who had her arms full with a basket of dirty clothes. His hands shot out, and he caught the basket before it could go everywhere, though that didn’t stop Mrs Jasper from uttering a startled eep and stumbling back a step.

She recovered quickly, reaching once more for her washing basket. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?” She placed the basket on the ground and looked him over. “Wait … wh-who are you? And what are you doing in our basement at three in the morning?” She poised, half twisted as if to run. Or scream. Or both.

“I’m staying with Boyd Masters. You know … the big guy from the ninth floor?”

“They moved out of there…” Mrs Jasper said cautiously.

“I know, to the second floor a few weeks ago. That’s where I’m staying since there’s more room now. Boyd and I worked construction, and after we left the industry together, he’s been putting me up while I figure out what’s next in my life.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Not everything in his life was planned out. He looked over his shoulder at the crappy staircase and growled, “And there’s no way that stairwell is up to code.”

At that, the middle-aged woman started to chuckle. “Most of this apartment block probably isn’t up to code if you want to get technical.”

Lar’ee frowned. “What apartment is the super living in?”

“We haven’t had a super on site for a while now. We’ve got a phone number to call and lodge complaints with a maintenance company …”

Lar’ee dragged his fingers over his head, lengthening his nails just enough to feel the scrape through his hair since it was pulled back in its usual messy man-bun. His sigh came out more of a growl. “I don’t suppose you know that number off the top of your head, do you?”

“Of course,” she replied and quickly rattled it off.

“Hold up.” Lar’ee pulled out his phone and looked at her to repeat it, which she did.

“It won’t matter. They’ll either give you lip service or cut you off, depending on their mood.”

“I dare them to try that with me.”

That might have come across as more murdery than he’d intended since Mrs Jasper squinted at him. “…Ummm … what was your name again?”

Subtle, she wasn’t. “Larry, and I know you’re Mrs Jasper from the fourth floor. The one with all the plants in the hallway. I used to see them every time I went up to Boyd’s place. You have a wonderful garden.”

“And you’re a horrible suck-up,” she laughed, relaxing instantly. “But if you’ve been up there with those young men often enough to know about me, I guess you’re okay to be here.” She frowned. “Except … I haven’t seen Robbie down here since the boys moved to the second floor, and I figured they had a laundry in there. Why would you be down here if that’s the case?”

“Someone told me the stairs down here were really dangerous, and since I’m not doing a lot at the moment, I figured I’d come and have a look at how bad it is. I didn’t think anyone would be using the laundry at this time of night, which begs the same question of you. Why are you down here?” Mrs Jasper was in her mid-fifties and lived alone. She hadn’t worked since her husband died in the line of duty during 9/11, which meant she could come down any time.

She nudged the basket at her feet with her slippered toes. “I never have much, and the other households are bigger, and it’s harder for them to come down at night with all those kids, so I let them take what would be my slot during the day.”

“Do you know if anyone else is likely to be doing their laundry over the next couple of hours?”

“No one regularly, if that’s what you’re asking. But as to who might, anyone can.”

“Right,” Lar’ee huffed. I guess I’m doing this at the same speed I put together the restrooms in the garage. “Okay. Well, we’ll get you sorted first, and then I’m going to start with that broken rail that’s just begging to kill someone.”

Mrs Jasper gasped and shook her head. “You can’t,” she insisted. “Not unless you’re a registered general contractor. I mean, I know you’ve said you worked with Boyd, but if you’re not licenced to do the work, you could get into big trouble. Not to mention people suing you just because they could.”

“They won’t.”

“This is New York. I promise you, they surely will.”

“No, they won’t. It’s a Nascerdios thing.” Lar’ee may not have had the appropriate paperwork to do the job, but he knew what he was doing, and as long as he didn’t make any mistakes, the veil would cover for him. Of course, if he ever made a mistake, the veil would turn on him in a heartbeat and have people believe he’d faked his credentials. Still, after the near miss with the toilets in Charlie’s garage on Saturday, he was absolutely going to make sure that didn’t happen again.

“Oh,” she said, relaxing. “Well, that’s different then. The Nascerdios would bury any litigation that came their way.”

Along with any idiot wanting to sue them, Lar’ee mentally agreed. “Would you allow me to carry your basket for you? The railing’s given out completely, and it’s really dangerous to be on the steps at the moment.” Using that for inspiration, he straightened and added, “Actually, what if you were to wait here, and I’ll take the basket down…”

“You’re not doing my laundry for me,” Mrs Jasper declared, her face flush with horror, embarrassment and a whole swag of annoyance.

“And you’re not letting me finish,” he chided. When she didn’t throw out anything else, he continued. “I’ll take it down and then come back up, and you can walk down with the wall on one side and me on the other.” He didn’t add how he would be barricading the door behind her when she left to prevent anyone else from risking themselves in the process. “You can put your washing on, and then I’ll take you back up. I can throw it from the washer to the dryer while I’m working, and by the time it’s finished, I’ll have everything down here sorted.”

“You’ll fix all of this in a couple of hours?”

“Sure. Like I said, it’s a Nascerdios thing.”

“What if you were to fall?”

“I’ve walked all over construction sites in this city. Believe me when I say I’m as sure-footed as a mountain goat when I want to be. These stairs aren’t an issue.”

As promised, he took the basket down (while the middle-aged woman watched from the above doorway) and then returned for her. Ten minutes later, he took her back upstairs, wished her a good night, and shut the door, bending the door frame in two places to prevent the door from opening again.

Even New York didn’t have a hardware store open at three in the morning; however, there were plenty of other places around the world that stocked what he needed, and the old saying of ‘it’s always five o’clock somewhere’ had a whole other meaning when the divine could actually get to those time zones.

It took him the better part of an hour to gather all the supplies from different Bunnings depots across Australia. Once he’d returned with everything he needed, he pulled Mrs Jasper’s washing out of the machine and tossed it into the dryer, kicking that machine over. As the drum started to roll, he took a moment to appreciate the simplicity of the human machine and how easily its use had become the norm for him. Most of the pryde would have been kicking and swearing at the machine (if not ripping it to shreds) if they’d been asked to operate it.

And speaking of doing things the divine way… he reminded himself and exploded in a flurry of divine movement, much like Robbie had to prepare the meal for the party. Only in his case he didn’t need to absorb mass. He did it by assuming the sizes and capabilities of countless other living beings. As such, his size quadrupled, and where he had one set of human hands, he now had hundreds, each working in tandem with every other hand around them.

He didn’t have any of his heavy equipment either, so again, he made do with elements of other living beings.

Plasma torch? A focused breath of a red dragon would do that.

Need more than one? Become a multi-headed hydra.

A saw to cut down metal and timber? Lining one of his many forearms with a row of yaksha teeth.

Spirit level? Turn a squared-off forearm transparent except for two lines of pigment and add an air bubble to the liquid.

And don’t get him started on the divine equivalent of hammers and wrenches. They were called ‘fingers’.

The best part of all? The lack of power tools and simply pushing nails into place meant he wasn’t making too much noise.

He stayed on top of what was happening, double and then triple-checking everything to be sure there were no mistakes.

Two hours later, he stood at the top of the stairs and looked over his work. The wiring was all replaced with a manual switch attached to the wall right beside the door, along with motion sensors that both counted how many people came in and which direction they were taking. When the last one left, if they didn’t remember to turn off the lights, they would do so automatically.

Three rows of fluorescent lights bathed the space from above, with another situated under the stairs to prevent anything from hiding there. In a city like New York, the likelihood of that was minimal. Still, the imagination (when dark spaces presented themselves) was a thing to behold, and given he was already rewiring the one light, taking that concern off the table was child’s play. Solid timber steps were burrowed into the brickwork and supported on the other side by a wrought iron handrail that was finished off by a rounded timber rail that matched the steps. He even coated the steps and every bolt in tsuchigumo webbing that he then cooked into a sealant by shifting the surface of his skin into a glowing salamander hide. The entire thing glistened like it was encased in a layer of warm, smooth glass.

Which brought up a potential problem.

He realm-stepped away and returned a few minutes later with some stair treads that he affixed to the front half of each step and three thin traction strips that ran the length of the banister for grip.

Because water, crystallised glass, and stairs do not work well together.

After it was finished, he folded his arms and smirked to himself. Should the world be destroyed tomorrow (no fucking chance of that with their nesting ground on it, but hypothetically speaking), this staircase would remain whole and be floating in the otherwise empty space.

He then turned around and unsealed the door, opening it from the inside to ensure it opened smoothly. Then, he taped a piece of paper to the hallway side of the door with four very simple words.

It’s a Nascerdios thing.

[Next Chapter]

* * *

((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))

I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here

For more of my work, including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.

FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

“Shock resistant,” Jace said, examining the metal knee guard.

“That’s all?” Will looked at the item.

It was surprising how many hidden mirrors were scattered out in the open. So far, the group had defeated four more elites, as well as a pack of goblins at the outside parking lot. Helen’s level had been bumped all the way to eight, which made all subsequent fights more difficult. At the same time, everyone agreed that to be a good thing: it meant that they’d be a lot more prepared for the boss. The issue, if any, was the quality of loot items they’d gotten up till now. All of them were gear and, for the most part, were largely useless.

“Remember when I said that the belt was crap?” The jock tossed Will the knee guard. “I was wrong. This is fucking crap. There’s not even a pair of them.”

Unlike the weapons, no one really wanted to put on the gear. As a result, it was Will who got it all thanks to the reflexes his class provided.

“I’ll take it,” he said after a long silence, strapping it onto his left knee. With that he had a pair of boots, a belt that reduced the sensation of pain, a single fire-resistant leather arm guard, and now a shock absorbing knee guard.”

“Bro,” Alex laughed.

The style mismatch was such that even Helen had to join in the chuckle.

“You’re definitely not becoming king of the prom.” She shook her head.

“It’s just temporary.” He stood up and took a few steps. The knee guard fit comfortably, not restricting his movements in the least. They had already noticed that all items adjusted size according to their owner.

“Want the shield?” the jock offered.

“Keep it for now.”

With the entire school yard and surrounding areas combed, only a small number of additional buildings remained: Spencer’s corner shop—from where Alex got his daily supply of muffins—and the gym. As much as the goofball would have loved to go through the shop, it was far too exposed, leaving only the other option.

The plan was simple—Jace and Helen would remain outside, while Will and Alex went through the area to place a few traps.

It was known for a fact that there were a set of mirrors in the locker rooms, with a good chance of them having wolves inside.

“Gear is lit,” the goofball said, looking at Will’s arm guard. “For real, bro. It’s just not of a set.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll need to find a place to stash them. Would be oof, if you find some really cool loot but must throw away some gear to make place.”

Alex continued dissing the management problem of eternity’s inventory system. The point had a certain degree of merit, but Will’s mind was elsewhere. He didn’t regret turning Danny down, but he couldn’t deny feeling worried about what was to come. Not the elite on the second floor—it was only a matter of strategy to defeat him, even with the former rogue involved. The real problem was with what followed. Even if Danny had lied his head off, something about eternity terrified him. The question was, did it involve Danny alone or would everyone be affected?

“You ok, bro?”

“Huh?” Will snapped out of it. “Yeah. Was thinking about after the tutorial.”

“For real.” The other nodded. “We’ll have time to get back to Danny. Lots of paper to go through.”

No wolves appeared in the locker rooms. That was somewhat of a relief. There was a good chance that at least one of the mirrors would spawn goblins, so Alex placed a dozen mirror taps in each. Everything else seemed pretty standard—lots of sports equipment and a giant room for indoor basketball play.

To be on the safe side, a few more mirror traps were placed at every doorway. With that done, the duo returned to the entrance to pick up the rest of the group.

“All set,” Will said, looking out from the door. “You can come in,” he told Helen. “Jace, you stay here. And keep away from the door.”

“Whatever, Stoner.” The jock grunted.

Drawing his poison dagger, Will opened the door wide, letting the girl step inside.

“There are traps at every door,” Will said, leading the way. “We’ll start with the basketball court.”

“How many do you think there’ll be?”

“Probably one.”

At every step, Will’s eyes moved about the room, looking for any instance of a mirror suddenly appearing. Alex was nowhere to be seen, of course. The goofball tended to move on his own timetable, abusing his thief skills to vanish and appear as it best suited him.

“Careful,” Will said as they approached the door to the basketball court. “There’s half a dozen there.”

The floor had no indication anything had been placed there. Will knew from experience that only the person placing them retained the ability to always see them. Everyone else was a few minutes away from having their image erased from their conscient self.

The court was everything that the school wasn’t. Whether it was the city or individual sponsors, a lot had been poured into making sure that every student had the chance of excelling in their respective field. Football was king with a small shared field on the city outskirts, but basketball also got its share of investment. All hoops and backboards were of professional quality, replaced two years ago.

Will still remembered the commotion at the time. Someone had spread the rumor that they’d be adding the new transparent type, so everyone was excited for no good reason. When it turned out they weren’t, the disappointment was palpable.

“I don’t see anything,” Helen said a few steps from the entrance. “Let’s check the lockers.”

“Hel, I need to ask you something.”

Helen looked at him with suspicion. It wasn’t lost on her that he had waited for them to be alone—or relatively alone, considering Alex—before making his move. Also, he started with a warning instead of the question itself.

“You said Danny took you hunting in the subway. How did he do that?”

“I told you. He’d gotten a permanent reward.”

Indeed, she had told him many things, though not all of them made sense.

“But you didn’t.”

There it was—the trap she had walked into without even realizing. Will didn’t feel particularly pleased about it. Despite what it appeared, his goal wasn’t to out her, but rather mentally prepare her for the revelation that Daniel was still alive. Everything suggested it was a mistake to do so, but he felt he might not get a better opportunity.

“What if I have?” she asked, walking past him towards the center of the court. “Secrets come with loops. Once you pass a thousand, things change. You can’t judge me.”

“I’m not trying to. I just think that he’s been lying to you.” He continued. “He’s been hiding things.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The girl snapped, briskly turning around. “Of course I knew! You have secrets. Alex has secrets. Even Jace does. Do you want me to apologize?”

“No,” Will said in a firm tone, joining her in the penalty area of the court. “I’ve been helping you way before I knew what was going on. I just want to understand a few things.”

“Like what?” the girl snapped. “That Danny was my ex? That’s my business, and I—”

HIDDEN BOSS FOUND

Purple letters shined through the basketball backboard—the one place they hadn’t been able to see when they had initially entered the room. That didn’t matter so much, because at this point the mirror had seen Helen, causing it to trigger.

“Shit!” Will grabbed Helen and leaped back just as three short spears shot out from the mirror.

Mercilessly, they struck the floor at the exact point she had been.

“Alex!” Will shouted, grabbing a throwing knife. “We need more traps!”

A roar mixed with laughter filled the room. On the mirror stuck to the backboard, a new message emerged.

SPATRA THE POISON SPEAR

(Kaleen Faction)

Victory reward: ???

The mirror’s surface shattered, and a massive figure leaped out. It was outright massive, making the dark knight they had faced several dozen loops ago look like a child.

Nine feet tall, the creature could be described as humanoid in only the most general of ways. With arms and legs as tree trunks, the elite was dressed in a combination of leather and metal armor covering his entire upper torso. Dark brown leather trousers and knee-length boots suggested that he had spent his entire existence in the wilderness, if such a concept existed in the mirror realms. Most shocking of all, the entire skin of the enemy was paper white, making the veins in his arms even more pronounced.

Purple eyes glared at Will and Helen in turn as the elite reached into the massive quiver on his back, taking hold of five more short spears. His left foot took a step back, stomping onto the floor.

A loud shattering sound followed, along with the twinkle of broken mirror fragments.

“You’re not a goblin, are you, bro?” Alex appeared twenty steps away. “I better—”

Before he could finish, the elite threw two of the spears right in the goofball’s chest.

In his mind, Will expected to see the usual message marking the unsuccessful end of the tutorial. Instead, Alex shattered into fragments.

“I knew you’d do that,” the goofball said as dozens of new versions of him appeared in the room. There was no telling which one of them was the real one. If Will had to guess, he’d probably say that none of them were. Alex had proven he was a master of deception, especially when taking things seriously.

On cue, Will leaped to the left, increasing the distance between him and Helen. If they were to fight, it would be best if they didn’t make it easy for the monster.

“How do you want to do this?” Helen raised her sword, holding it confidently with one hand.

“He can see traps,” Alex said. “So, that’s useless.”

“But he can’t see you sneak. Hide, we’ll create an open—”

Three spears flew Will’s way. Even with his current reflexes, his body felt sluggish when compared to the speed of his enemy. It was only thanks to his evasion that he managed to twist his body just enough to have the lethal weapons fly inches away from his waist and shoulder.

Unwilling to take any further chances, he leaped back away, increasing the distance between them.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Floor shattered

Helen’s blade struck the spot where Spatra stood. Unfortunately, his reaction speed had proved too great, allowing him to retreat just enough to avoid the blow.

The hidden boss leaned back, as he kicked Helen straight in the stomach and with such strength that it caused her to spit out a full mouth of saliva.

Gritting her teeth, the girl refused to collapse or let go of her weapon, enduring the attack that pushed her fifteen feet back.

“Got you, bro!” A new Alex appeared a step away from the enemy, instantly attempting to stab him in the side. The knife struck the boss’ armor, shattering on the spot. The fate of the knife was instantly shared by the rest of the mirror copy, which crumbled on its own accord.

Will held his breath and took advantage of the momentary distraction to throw three knives at the target. Two of them bounced off the man’s protective gear. The third one, thankfully, struck his right biceps.

Crimson red blood spilled out, made even brighter due to the skin’s whiteness. Sadly, that was all. At a ten percent chance of paralysis, there was nothing to be surprised of, but Will really wished luck had smiled on him.

“I think you should have taken the chain, bro,” several Alexes said as they charged forward.

Unimpressed, the boss avoided them like leaves in the wind. So great was his confidence that he didn’t even bother to attack them, letting them occasionally break their blades on his armor and shatter as a result.

“Are you okay, Hel?” Will asked, throwing three more daggers.

“Just catching my breath,” she replied. “What about you?”

“Perfect.”

In truth, he had just run out of special throwing knives, but he didn’t want her knowing that. The only thing that mattered right now was to stay in the fight and find a weakness he could exploit before any of them got killed.

< Beginning | | Previously... | | Next >

First episode/previous episode

“Use the shuttle’s reactor,” Colonel Sharman said.

“The shuttle’s?” Rickard asked. “But it uses rocket engines? Rocket fuel. Methalox, right?”

Colonel Sharman gave him a softer version of the ‘are you a complete idiot’ look that he was used to receiving from Dr. Fusō. ”It's not for landing. It's for escaping the podship when you're at relativistic speed—nearly lightspeed. The rocket engines might put out 10,000 times as much thrust per second but it only lasts a minute. The reactor can put out thrust for over 20 years, and it only needs two months to slow down.”

“I could kiss you,” Rickard said.

“Hey,” Dr. Fusō said, as if she were offended.

“I don't know if my wife would approve,” Colonel Sharman replied, with a chuckle. “Sounds like your missus isn't too fond of the idea either.”

It was Rickard’s turn to laugh. “No, we're not together.”

“Yet,” Dr. Fusō whispered.

Rickard ignored her. “Can you show me it now?”

“Do you mind, Alex?” the astronaut asked.

“Not at all,” Dr. Hayward replied. “You've done plenty for me already. Thank you, Colonel.”

Colonel Sharman led Rickard to the shuttle. They ascended the ramp, and entered the shuttle. Entering the unyielding, man-made enclosure felt strange, almost like a betrayal, as if they were leaving the planet and all of its natural splendor behind.

“Mind back,” Colonel Sharman said, before lifting a small hatch in the corner of the crew cabin. She grabbed a wrench from a pouch in her suit and quickly undid a couple of bolts, then did the same in a second corner. With a grunt, she heaved up half of the floor. The large sheet of fabrick pivoted on a large hinge and revealed an opening a meter across, filled with cabling and tubing and thousands of blinking lights. And in the center, the reactor, a doppelganger of the trashed unit sat in the dirt beside his fabricator.

Colonel Sharman lifted a transparent cover from a square, red button to one side and pressed it. With a series of whirs and hisses the many connectors and hoses released the reactor and withdrew.

“Oh man,” Rickard said. “If only the fabricator was that easy.”

“Blame the inventor.” She winked. “I guess that's the difference between landings and takeoffs being your primary function, versus a requirement you tacked on at the end.”

She squatted over the opening and carefully lifted the reactor free.

“Thank you so much,” Rickard said, putting his hands out to take it from her.

“That's okay. I got it. Show me where you want it.”

Rickard wasn’t going to argue. Sure, he’d spent a few years lugging around a heavy tool bag, but the astronaut’s chiseled physique contrasted starkly against his stereotypical primarily-office-based engineer’s frame.

He led the way, announcing the end of the ramp, pointing out rocks to avoid there, vines to step over here, and held back the larger sailgrasses and flowers.

“Right, where do I stick it in?” she asked as they reached the fabricator.

He checked her eyes and saw the telltale shadow of an aug-phone in her left.

“You don't,” he said. “Another compromise we made with the fabricator means that as soon as you connect a power source, the electromagnets switch on. There’s quite a pulse. Pacemakers, hearing aids, implants, all go bang. Trust me, it’s not pretty.” He shuddered, recalling a young technician that had lost all three in the early days.

“Okay, no argument from me,” she said. She carefully hefted the reactor into his arms, and began to retreat for the fabricator as if it were a grizzly bear.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re safe here. Blocks of mu-metal keep the magnetic field contained. You just don’t want to be the one under there connecting it.”

She visibly relaxed. “You need help with anything else?” she asked.

“No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

She waved goodbye and left. She seemed so kind, so genuine. Surely she had nothing to do with the missing people. “If anyone actually is missing,” he mumbled to himself as he put the new reactor down beside the fabricator and shunted the old one out of the way.

Then he climbed under the fabricator, dragging the reactor behind him.

He had thought his arms had shaken as he had taken the old one out. He had been wrong. They had been steady as neutrons compared to the quaking quarks his arms were now as they lifted the new reactor into the belly of the fabricator.

“Damn things probably give off x-rays at this frequency,” he joked to himself. He drew a long shuddering breath, filling his lungs with the slightly-oxygen-enriched air. Sweat, borne half from exertion, and half from growing panic, flooded down the sides of his face and soaked his collar. If he messed this up and damaged this reactor too, things would get very dire indeed. Whether he fixed one or waited for the other podships to arrive, it could be weeks before he could revive Tabi, and by then whatever Dr. Fusō thought was happening to the other hibernators might happen to her.

He growled with focused fury, pushing the infant-sized, heavy-as-a-bag-of-cement manifestation of salvation into place.

Finally, it sat on its mounting bars, and Rickard dropped his arms to his sides in relief. He lay there for a minute and allowed himself a lazy smile. He dabbed the sweat away from around his eyes with the cuff of his increasingly soiled spacesuit.

Then he performed his juggling act, tools flying back and forth between his hands and the pockets of his suit as bolts were tightened, hoses clamped, and cables connected.

With just the power output cable remaining, he returned all of his tools to his pockets and zipped them closed.

Then he plugged in the final cable.

A heavy clunk rang through the fabricator, reverberated through the ground, and thumped through his chest—the electromagnetic coils switching on with 45.22 teslas of raw magnetism.

He crawled out from beneath the fabricator, swapped his precision tools for a hefty wrench and spirit level, and carefully adjusted the fabricator’s feet until it was perfectly level in both axes. Then he put his tools back in his bag, grabbed his gravimeter, and went to the console.

The screen already cast a familiar cool white light, sharp black text scrolling through its boot sequence.

“GRAVITATIONAL DEVIATION DETECTED,” declared the last line of the output when the text finally stilled.

“Yeah, going from zero G to 1.2 will do that,” Rickard said, before carefully measuring and inputting the milliGal anomalies all around—and within, where possible—the fabricator.

“GRAVITATIONAL CALIBRATION COMPLETE.”

Rickard pressed a button and the wall of text scrolled for a minute before disappearing, leaving the main interface in its place. Rickard kissed his fingertips and thrust them upward in the podships direction.

“Thank you, Tabi.” He wasn't a religious man, but she was his angel for all intents and purposes. “I guess we better run a test print.”

“Rickard,” Dr. Fusō called as she limped toward him. “I brought you lunch.”

Behind her, around the felled tree, a cluster of people were fighting the spindly stilts of some solar panels, the last row of a roughly football-field-sized area. Those had been on the podship’s inventory, at least.

“Is it lunchtime already?” he asked, and his stomach grumbled in reply.

“Actually it’s almost dinner. But I only just got out of the med-tent.”

Rickard took the box of steaming nutrient paste from her. His stomach grumbled again, this time in protest. In all fairness, the paste didn't taste that bad, but when it was all you had eaten for the last two weeks...

Dr. Fusō chuckled at his lack of enthusiasm. “Count yourself lucky. I've been eating it for over a month. I don’t know—”

She cut off mid—sentence as the aug-phone within her right eye lit up. The filament-thin ring around her iris cast a blue haze across her cheek and nose, before fading to a barely perceptible glow.

“Oh great,” she said, not sounding sarcastic for once. “Being disconnected gave me the creeps. Even if I am now connected to a bunch of assholes, at least we won't have to shout like schoolchildren to announce mealtimes.

“If you wouldn't mind still shouting for me,” Rickard said. “I'd appreciate it. Not that it did any good today."

"You're an enigma, Rickard. You're the biggest techie on the planet, literally, and the only one without an aug-phone. Don’t you have any implants?”

He shook his head. “You love your bugs, but you ain’t got any of them in your body, right? I spend enough time around my machines. I don’t need them in me. And speaking of machines, the fabricator is almost done. Just have to test her. I was about to come ask you what I was allowed to put in?"

“Firstly, bullshit were you. Secondly, I need a favor. I need you to break the fabricator again.”

https://preview.redd.it/bgjpybnm731e1.jpg?width=1500&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=bd93c0d0b14e2d7f1fb363c227e3f1ca22132794

Blurb: After Piri the nine-tailed fox follows an order from Heaven to destroy a dynasty, she finds herself on trial in Heaven for that very act.  Executed by the gods for the “crime,” she is cast into the cycle of reincarnation, starting at the very bottom – as a worm.  While she slowly accumulates positive karma and earns reincarnation as higher life forms, she also has to navigate inflexible clerks, bureaucratic corruption, and the whims of the gods themselves.  Will Piri ever reincarnate as a fox again?  And once she does, will she be content to stay one?

Advance chapters and side content available to Patreon backers!

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Chapter 171: Lodia’s Decree

In the morning, a happy group of friends had run down to the beach and plunged into the water. Well, Steelfang and his wolves had plunged in, anyway, Stripey thought. Floridiana had needed to be dragged away from her sketchbook, and Lodia had needed a lot of encouragement before she dared so much as dip her toe in the water. It was a sadder, wetter, much more injured group who returned to Flying Fish Village.

And they hadn’t allreturned.

“Oh, Ssstripey! Ssshe’s gone! Ssshe’s gone again!”

Heedless of either of their injuries, Bobo flung herself at him and wrapped her body around him from neck to tail. She bumped his wing, and he squawked.

“Oh, sssorry! Sssorry! Are you okay?”

She unwound the top third or so of herself so she could lean back and scan him. That was when he got a good look at the long, shiny, melted lines that crisscrossed her scales.

Bobo! What happened to you?

She shrugged, which, considering that she was wrapped around him, felt more like being choked. “It’s not a big deal. The jellyfisssh ssstung me, that’s all.”

“That’s all”? he repeated incredulously. What do you mean, that’s all? You look – you look –

“I sssaid I’m fine! I’m alive, aren’t I? Rosssie’s gooooone!”

She burst into tears. Her sobs wracked her body, which in turn jostled all of his bruises and cuts and broken bones. Working his good wing free, he patted her on a part that looked less melted.

There, there. It’ll be okay. It’s not the first time she’s died on us. She’ll find us again. She promised she would.

A sniffle. “Did ssshe? Did ssshe sssay ssshe would? Did ssshe promissse ssshe would?”

Yes. Right before – he quickly changed what he had been about to say – the end. She looked me in the eye and said, “I’ll find you. No matter where or what I am, I’ll find you.” There, see? Nothing to worry about. Now, if you could loosen yourself a bit –

“It was my fault!” wailed a new voice. The latest human girl whom Piri had adopted, Lodia, ran up to them. One of the village elders had already splinted her arm, and she cradled the sling to steady it. “I’m so, so, so sorry! She wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been for me! It was all my fault!”

At the sight of someone in greater distress, Bobo immediately let go of Stripey and slithered over to Lodia. Taking much more care than she had with him, she draped a coil over the girl’s shoulders and rubbed them soothingly. “It’s not your fault. Of courssse it’s not your fault. How could it be your fault? It was a misssunderssstanding. They thought we were invading. They didn’t give us time to explain that we jussst wanted to play in the water.”

The girl hunched over as if she were trying to disappear into the sand. “It was, it was, he said it was. He said I offended a goddess, so he was here to kill me. This was all my fault!”

Stripey felt as if a tidal wave had just crashed over him. He said you offended a goddess, he repeated slowly. Each word felt unreal. A goddess.

“Yes! A goddess! I don’t know how anything I do is important enough to offend anyone, let alone a goddess!”

Stripey rather thought that taking up the mantle of the Matriarch of a temple that was collecting offerings solely for one god counted as “important,” but he didn’t have time to argue with her right now. Listen to me, Lodia. I need to know: Which goddess?

“He didn’t know, he said he didn’t need to know – oh! But Pip said something! Just before – you were there too! Something about a star?”

Stripey shook his head regretfully. I was too far away to hear. Do you remember anything else about the star?

“Um, um, it was a long name. Or title. The Star of…something. She – Pip – got it wrong the first time. The Star of – of – ” Lodia’s face screwed up in frustration. “Reflected something. Reflected…Reflected…Light? Brilliance? No, that’s not it…. I can’t remember!”

“Brightness,” came Floridiana’s voice from behind them.

It lacked her usual crisp energy, but then she, too, had one hand pressed to a bloody bandage on her side. Den hovered over her as anxiously as if his future reincarnations depended on keeping her alive. Which, from what Piri had told Stripey, they did. But he didn’t think that was the reason.

“It’s the Star of Reflected Brightness,” Floridiana told them. At their blank faces, she blew out an exasperated breath. “You know, the goddess that Empress Aurelia turned into after she died? The last empress of Serica, whom she had killed?”

“She…?” Lodia lifted her head at last. Tears streaked her cheeks, her eyes were puffy, and her nose was lychee-red. “Um, I know I’m not supposed to know this, and I don’t understand how it could be because it doesn’t make any sense, but…somehow, Pip is – was – Lady Piri, wasn’t she…?”

Stripey traded glances with Floridiana and Den. Well, she was bound to figure it out at some point.

“Would have been safer if she hadn’t,” the mage muttered, before saying in an emphatic whisper, “Never say that out loud again. You never know who’s watching or listening.” In case the girl hadn’t understood, she rolled her eyes Heavenward.

Lodia gulped. “But she’s not like…that anymore. She’s even helping the Divine Intercessor. Why would – why would they still….”

Floridiana put a gentle hand on the crown of Lodia’s head. “You’ve seen how many factions there are in the South Serican court, haven’t you? Imagine what it would be like if each of the courtiers were infinitely powerful, and immortal too.”

“They’re not infinitely powerful,” Den murmured but didn’t elaborate.

“I messed up the politics, didn’t I?” Lodia asked miserably. “I never get the politics right. I messed up, and she had to come save me, and the oystragon killed her for it. It’s all my fault.”

Bobo rubbed her back in big, soothing circles. “It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the goddess’, not yours.”

Den sucked in a sharp breath. “Bobo, don’t say that!”

“But it’s true!” she snapped. Her eyes were over-bright. “Why should anybody have to die jussst becaussse they messsed up sssome politics or offended the wrong perssson? It’s not fair! It’s not right! I won’t ssstand for it!”

Bobo, said Stripey*, it’s just the way the world works. On Earth* and in Heaven.

“Well, it ssshouldn’t be! It’s wrong. We’re re-founding the Empire, aren’t we?” She glared at them until everyone nodded. “What’s the point of re-founding the Empire if it’s going to be as awful as it usssed to be? We have to make it better. We’re going to make it better this time!”

Better? Stripey opened his beak to tell her what he, Floridiana, and Den were all thinking, which was that that was a lost cause if they’d ever heard one.

But Lodia beat him to it. “Yes,” she said. The word came out quietly but firmly, with no hint of compromise. “Yes. Bobo, you’re right. We have a chance to do it all over. We’re going to make it better. We have to make it better. For Pip. So she didn’t die in vain.”

Looking at her determined expression, Stripey decided not to tell her that Piri, in whose name they were re-forging a more virtuous Empire, almost certainly preferred her politics with a dose of corruption. A hefty dose, no less.

///

In Heaven:

“No! I can’t believe it! She survived! How did she survive?!”

A porcelain vase sailed across the office of the Director of Human Lives. It shattered against a display of little clay humans, sending translucent shards spinning everywhere. The shelf itself creaked and cracked, then collapsed, spilling the precious figurines towards the floor.

“No!” shrieked the Goddess of Life. Those were the first original humans, shaped from river clay by the hands of Lady Nu and given life by the breath of the great goddess. The Jade Emperor Himself had granted them to the Goddess of Life when she became the Director of this Bureau. “Stop!”

The figurines froze midair.

“Mend.”

At her command, the pieces of wood flew back together, knitting themselves back into an ornate shelf. The figurines floated back into their positions. In slow motion, the shards of porcelain fit themselves together into a vase.

The Goddess of Life sank into her chair and massaged her temples. How could the Dragon Commander have botched the simple elimination of a single human girl? Humans were such fragile creatures. They died at the drop of a hair stick. Disease, starvation, accident, childbirth, murder, old age – the options were endless! Well, maybe not starvation, childbirth, or old age, since she’d wanted Koh Lodia removed quickly, but that still left a virulent disease, a tragic accident, or straightforward murder.

How hard could it be to murder one human girl? Even a human girl protected by one former nine-tailed fox?

Apparently, very, given that the ruler of all dragons himself couldn’t get it right!

A tentative tap came on her door, probably her head clerk bearing more documents for her to skim and stamp with her official seal. She’d thought that she knew all about paperwork from essentially acting as the Director of Reincarnation on behalf of the ever-absent Kitchen God. She hadn’t realized until her dreams were granted and she received her own Bureau that there was even more paperwork for an official Director to deal with. Back at the Bureau of Reincarnation, the sour-faced, humorless Superintendent, Glitter, had handled more of it than she’d realized.

Now, here, it was all her responsibility.

Schooling her voice to calm, she called, “Come in!”

As expected, her head clerk came in and prostrated himself before her desk.

“Oh, do get up,” she snapped. “It’s a waste of my time to go through this rigmarole every time you have a new document for me to stamp.”

“Yes, Heavenly Lady.” Even his voice, as colorless as the vase she’d just repaired, grated on her nerves. He rose, keeping his head bowed.

“Well? What do you have for me this time?”

Still without looking up, he proffered a scroll and a lacquered box in both hands. “The Assistant Director of Reincarnation sends his regards, my lady.”

“I’m sure he does. Let us see what kind of gift the Star of Heavenly Joy sends to curry my favor.” She couldn’t keep the contempt out of her voice as she lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled on silk brocade, were three large peaches. Their fragrance wafted out of the box and filled her office. Her eyebrows rose slowly.

“Not bad, if these are what I think they are. Clerk! Do you think they are genuine peaches from the Queen Mother of the West’s orchard?”

He shuffled from one foot to the other before he remembered himself and held still. “I must apologize, my lady. Never having seen one of the Peaches of Immortality up close, I could not say whether these are genuine or not.”

Useless star sprite. Had whoever assigned clerks purposely saddled her with the most incompetent staff?

“However,” he continued, “I have heard rumors that the Star of Heavenly Joy is…close to one of the Star of Reflected Brightness’ handmaidens. As an employee of the Bureau of the Sky, she may have special access to the gardens…?”

Maybe not so useless after all. Even if it were an open secret that, just as he had on Earth, the former Emperor Cassius had once again gone after his former wife’s handmaidens. And if he had gone to the trouble of obtaining Peaches of Immortality, then his message was worth skimming, at least. She extended the scroll to the clerk, who unknotted the silk cord so she wouldn’t damage her nails.

The Assistant Director of Reincarnation sends respectful greetings to the Director of Human Lives,he had written in adequate calligraphy. I find myself troubled by a particularly complex case, which records show that you handled personally during your tenure at the Bureau of Reincarnation. If you might spare a moment of your time, I would be honored to receive any guidance you may have to offer on the role to which I have so recently been promoted, and in which you served so admirably as my predecessor.

A particularly complex case that she had handled personally, was it? Even though she had handled countless complex cases personally during her tenure, she could think of only two that would draw the former emperor’s attention. One was that of the Star of Scholarly Song, his former cousin, whom she had returned to the cycle of reincarnation on orders of the Bureau of Academia and the Jade Emperor’s own deputies.

The other was that of one former nine-tailed fox, to whom the Goddess of Life had personally granted the gift of retaining her memories when she reincarnated, as recompense for Cassius’ own overreach. It would be an affront for him to revoke that gift without her express permission.

And just now, the sparrow reincarnation of aforementioned nine-tailed fox had helped Koh Lodia defy the death decreed for her by the Goddess of Life.

Well. Who said you couldn’t kill two sparrows with one stone?

The Goddess of Life’s lips curved up into a smile. “Draft a reply to the Star of Heavenly Joy,” she commanded her head clerk. “Tell him that I would be happy to share the experience I gained during my tenure as Assistant Director of Reincarnation. Invite him here for tea.”

///

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, Autocharth, BananaBobert, Celia, Charlotte, Ed, Fuzzycakes, Ike, Kimani, Lindsey, Michael, TheLunaticCo, yoghogfog, and Anonymous!

[ Next Chapter ]

Series Blurb: To keep the multiverse in check, sometimes you've gotta get your hands dirty. When Amon took on the mission to find two missing agents, she didn't expect her brother to betray her in the process. Nor did she anticipate his betrayal would leave her stranded, with no way home and living off of scraps. Determined to accomplish her mission and bring him to justice, she will do anything--even if it means the fate of the world she was meant to keep intact.

-----

“If we don’t do this, who’s to say you won’t kill us next?”

Amon jolted, kicking her legs out and knocking over a trash can. She leaped forward, catching it before it could crash to the ground.

As she readjusted the can, ignoring the smell of moldy food and the maggots that slipped onto her gloved fingers, she listened intently to her surroundings. This had been the best sleep she’d had in months—who dared to interrupt it?

For the past week, her home had been an alleyway in the markets between a garment shop and a cafe. Mice and other small critters called themselves her companions—sharing the scraps from the end of business days in a huddle away from the sight of the streets. Light barely graced them during the day, but the streetlights threatened to reveal them once night fell. That’s when they would become almost one with the discarded trash, her tattered clothes helping her blend in to look like nothing more than a pile of discarded fabrics.

She brought her cloak closer around her as she peered deeper into the alley, towards where the markets met the slums that she tried so hard to steer away from. Yet it seemed fate had other plans, pushing her closer to its shrouded depths that she may never return from.

Three figures stood under a small lamp at a back entrance to some establishment. A brothel? Amon shifted a bit closer, leaning against a chain-link fence that served as a physical border for the change in districts.

Two women dressed in overextravagant finery leaned over a mousy fellow. He extended his hands out to them.

“No, listen, please. I promise it was nothing like that. Just let me go. Let me go and we—we can all forget about this, right?” His voice heightened to a higher pitch at the end.

Amon winced, rubbing her ears. Gods above, she missed the glamours her fellow agents would conjure for her. Being in her true form left her too sensitive for the world in the skies. Still, she watched the interaction, her stomach tightening in trepidation.

One of the women scoffed and pointed something at him. He recoiled, squealing. Amon narrowed her eyes, noting how the object reflected the light.

A gun?! Her heart raced.

“Look, it was just one whore. None of you liked her anyway. Why would you ca—“

BANG!

Amon’s eyes widened as the man’s body slumped forward, headless. The woman not holding the gun gripped what remained of his head. Only then did Amon notice the sword at her side.

The women knocked on the back entrance. It swung open to reveal a burly fellow who waved them in. They walked with a skip in their step, twirling the man’s head in their grasp.

Once the door closed, Amon moved away from the fence, only to be ripped back and almost fall onto her arse. She looked back to see the glove of her left hand caught in the metal chains.

Cursing to herself, she wrenched her hand away. But the fence fought back and took her glove, leaving her skin bare and her Mark out and proud for everyone to see.

I’ll deal with it later. It shouldn’t prove a problem tonight.

Amon sidled over to the body. She wasn’t proud of it, but she hoped he had something on his person that would help her eat something that didn’t have insects or mold in it.

She knelt on the ground, nose scrunching at the blood clinging to the clothes. She certainly wouldn’t be able to sell the suit—a shame, as it looked quite well-made now that she could see it in better lighting.

She paused as she realized just what she was doing. She wanted to curse the skies, the RKC—hells, her brother. She used to be a hero, an agent who kept the multiverse intact; and now here she was, rifling through the remains of a dead man in the hopes of finding something worth enough so she could have a proper meal.

Shaking her head, Amon fiddled with the lapels of the suit, flipping the jacket open and running her fingers against the inner linings. They brushed against something hard. A bit more inspection revealed a metallic card.

Bringing it more into the light, Amon dropped it with a gasp, recoiling from the body as though it had come back to life.

She cursed under her breath. The Gods must be laughing at her. She needed to leave before—

“Ambassador Ailadon?” A voice called from the end of the alleyway in the slums. “The Council has requested your presence on the Surface.”

Amon scrambled away from the body. Her heart thundered in her ears, draining out all of her other senses. The need to go, to run, coursed through her. If she didn’t, then they would think she did it. She would be brought to the Guard for judgment, and they would recognize her. Then she would be turned over to Parliament and—

She released a long breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn’t spiral. She wouldn’t spiral. Right now, she needed to get out of there.

“Ambassador?” The person called again, a hint of worry in their voice.

Amon scrambled for the other end of the alleyway, towards the bazaar that boasted its nightly crowd.

“Uncle?” She heard just as she broke through the exit. “Uncle?!”

She weaved her wave through the masses, keeping her eyes forward.

“Do you smell that?”

“By the Gods, have you ever heard of a shower?”

“This is surely in the jurisdiction of the Guardians, right? Why would they let rodents out on the streets?”

Amon ignored the murmurs, though her face betrayed her as it grew several shades darker until it resembled a plum. She tried to move to the less-crowded sidewalks, but a bouncer for one of the late-night clubs pushed her. She fell to the ground, her hood falling back and revealing her face.

She winced as pain spread across her bottom. Months of malnutrition left her slower than normal, but still, she needed to go before—

The bouncer narrowed his eyes. “Horns?” He whispered to himself. “Violet eyes like the Void itself…”

Shit. She hastened, clambering back upright and bringing the hood back over her head.

Before she could step away, a large hand grasped her shoulder and pulled her backward.

The bouncer leaned over her, a wicked grin on his scarred face. He appraised her, a knowing light in his eyes that had Amon’s stomach curling inwardly.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the false heir,” he sneered, bringing himself close enough to sniff at her. He grimaced. “Needs a bit of a bath, but I know quite a few people out there who would pay a pretty price for your head… among other things.”

Amon thrashed against his grip to no avail. If this were before, she would have smashed his face into the building and sprinted off, but now she struggled to even keep herself on her own two legs. Gods below, she wished she could rip that smugness right off his face and feed it to a valhound. 

“Now, how about we get you into the—” Just as he pulled her closer to the club, a shout from down the street paused the crowd.

“Stop!”

A tingle ran through Amon’s body as she looked in its direction—finding everyone around her, including the man holding her, frozen in place.

At the end of the street, close to the alley she had come from, a younger-looking man leaned against the brick wall of the garment shop. Sweat lined his brow, but his gaze never left Amon as he stood taller, wiping what looked like blue blood away from his mouth.

The Voice. A form of magick very few could command. To the point that in her half-a-millennia of living and so many worlds traveled to, Amon had yet to see someone else wield. With just a simple command, they overtook a person’s control of themselves. To do so to an entire street… Amon didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out how powerful they truly were.

She took advantage of the bouncer’s stillness, ripping herself out of his grasp.

The Guardians on either side of the Voice-user seemed frozen as well. Amon reckoned in his haste he hadn’t considered directing it properly. And by the way he struggled to walk in a straight line—repeatedly falling into frozen bodies and tripping over his own feet—she figured she had a better shot at running now than she did before.

Amon rushed through the crowd, weaving between the bodies. The further she got, the more she saw telltale signs that they were regaining control of themselves. A few muscle twitches here, an eye-rolling there, and even a gasp escaping one person. 

From what she remembered from the arcane books she would study alongside her brother—rather than completing the mundane work her superiors insisted upon—those subjected to the Voice were fully aware of themselves even when they were under its spell, they just couldn’t do anything. The thought alone of it happening to her left a queasy feeling in her stomach as she reached the other end of the street.

“Stop!” Another rush washed over her, but she continued to move.

How am I unaffected?

She reasoned that it didn’t matter as she ran into a nearby side street.

Yet it continued to linger in the back of her mind as she rushed further into the heart of the city—the man’s voice continuing to echo until it eventually died out.

Just a small note here; apparently i've forgotten a few chapters' Haze scenes... but it's all good cos there's no critical developments lost in the process; I'll also be more clearly marking the chapters with Haze scenes for V3.

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[First] | [Glossary Addendum] | [Previous]

----

[The Abyss Depths, Location Redacted, 32nd of Emheraldis, 5030 TE]

[Boltz]

As the last Watch of the Frostreign faded into the first of the next, Chit and I lay in bed together, my body bare except for the breathing helmet, after we had realised just two Watches previously that not only was the suit helmet on its own able to provide me with air, thanks to the seal being able to be extended to reach just under my arms, but that the suit could also dry itself internally. Served me right for not reading the manual, but then again, who in Solahra's name does? And so it was that Chit and I were giggling under the blankets as we lay there, skin touching skin, in the very bedroom that Chit spent her childhood in. And somehow, it felt... Right, to be able to feel my lover's cool skin against my own. Especially in these surprisingly warm waters. I glanced at the clock built into the suit's helmet seal, and smiled as it said that it was just but two minutes until the new Frostreign. Chit's parents had told us they were going to observe the Shift, which was the Ashgleindu version, culturally, of fireworks on the surface; They created carefully carved clam shell lanterns which were then pushed out over the Shelf, to descend into the Abyss proper, meaning we would be alone as the Frostreign changed. I smiled at Chit, and said,

"What do you say we send out the Frostreign, as my ancestors used to say, with a bang?" Her emerald eyes glittered in the water, and as her body moved with a fluidity that I'd never experienced, no doubt due to her being in water instead of air, things turn rather hazy...

[The Next Watch...]

[Boltz]

I woke up relatively early, with Chit's help, and climbed into the watersuit. As I engaged the self-drying system, it flashed a warning that the suit could not comply due to flooding. I pressed the "Purge Suit" button on the augmented reality HUD, and soon after, I felt the water drain from the suit as powerful pumps pushed it out of the soles of the feet. The entire operation was whisper quiet, even from inside the suit, but soon after, a new prompt appeared: Suit water content within operable parameters. Initiate drying process?. I pressed the "affirmative" button, and the suit heated up to an uncomfortable temperature before slowly cooling again, and I realised that it was in fact dry. I grinned at Chit, and said,

"Dry as a bone!" She giggled, and took my hand.

"Come on, Father said last Slumber that he was going to make us breakfast." I blinked, and indicated the suit helmet. Chit grinned, and said,

"Apparently he's got a solution for that too." I was sceptical, but allowed my aquatic lover to pull me through her parental home and down to the dining room.

As we entered, I blinked; Chit had fallen into the room. I frowned, and experimentally took off one of the gloves after activating the wrist seal. The room was filled with air! I grinned, and put the glove down on the table, then took the other one off. Pulling the waist strap tight to keep the suit from pooling around my feet, I peeled away the shoulder seal just as Helzoldin walked in. He froze, seeing me technically half naked, and I gave him a grin.

"Don't worry, everything waist down is staying covered. I just have to remove the helmet, and the only way to do that is to get out of the arm straps." I said. He raised an eyebrow just as I lifted my arms, bending forwards, while Chit pulled on the helmet itself. The seal hoops slid down my arms, and I picked up the top half of the suit again, pushing my arms through the holes, and pulled it tight at the neck, closing it up so there was just enough room to line up with the sealing ring. I turned back to Chit's father again, and cheerily asked,

"So... What's on the menu this morning?" He blinked, noticing Chit's blue face, and stammered,

"Uh... Um... It's uh... Something a bit on the exotic side for us, but... Surface bacon and eggs." I felt my jaw drop at the words, and I asked,

"You can get them down here?!" He nodded, somewhat shaken by my enthusiastic response, a reaction not helped by my addition afterwards of

"Hell yeah!" Right as the words left my lips, I sheepishly rubbed the back of my now exposed head, and said in a much gentler voice,

"Sorry, I just really like bacon and eggs." I glanced at Chit, and added,

"You can blame your daughter; She cooks them almost too well. I have to get her to ration it so that I don't end up getting fat from all the bacon!" I sat down with a chuckle as Helzoldin walked into the kitchen, which I noted was also within the air bubble.

[A Few Hours Later...]

As the Solwatch began to dim into the Lunwatch, Chit and I waved goodbye to her parents, and swam up to the transport terminal. We were able to immediately board, and as we ascended, Chit leaned against me, her eyes dim with thought. Rather than disturb the thoughts running through her mind, I simply wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her in closer to me, making her giggle up at me.

About an hour after we left the Abyss station, we arrived at the Surface end once more, and stepped out of the transport, allowing me to head for the public locker area and retrieve my bag of clothing, before heading into the toilets to change back into clothes, putting the watersuit into the bag in place of my clothes. Walking back out, I placed the bag in the locker and closed it up, sealing it automatically.

[From The Abyss Artisanry, Wolfreach Commercial District, Halsion Reach Region, 2nd of Solaerch, 5031 TE]

[The Next Watch...]

[Boltz]

I pressed the button on the back of the sign that told people if we were open or closed, and it hummed to life, illuminating to say that we were officially open for business, and unlocked the door before walking back to Chit, who was sitting behind the counter for the first shift. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, looking down at the stock base she was reading.

"So, how are we for supplies?" I asked, and she leaned her head against mine as she replied,

"From the looks of things, we're gonna need more Drakesteel soon; we're getting low, but there's enough time to get a shipment in before we run out at the current pace." I smiled, and kissed her on the cheek, then said,

"Alright well I'll let you place the order for that; I'm gonna get some more of those glittering iron throwing knives put together for Arcana University." I let my arms slide across her stomach as I pulled away, and as I entered the workshop, she called out,

"Alright, the Drakesteel is on the way!" I grinned, and picked up the first of the blades. This was going to be a long, boring Watch, I could feel it in my bones.

[Command Center of the Fortress of Kaur'Ainda, Halsion Reach Region, Haldios IV, 2nd of Solaerch, 5031 TE]

[Cewa]

I stood before the communications table, a hologram of Orbital Command high above glowing azure in the holofield. A representation of a new vessel that we had just finished building attached itself to the station, and I heard a voice on the other end of the comm line announce,

"Good seal, repeat, good seal! Welcome home, Aerrianis." I allowed myself a small smile as I admired the feat of engineering I was looking at, even if only in hologram form. She was half a kilometre wide, and three kilometres long, while also being a kilometre high. The Aerrianis was to be my flagship in this first fleet under the banner of the Kaurai Warriors.

Opening the comm line, I asked,

"How are the systems aboard?" The line was silent for a few seconds, before Kaeya's voice came through.

"The ship as a whole is incredible! I don't think anyone has wielded this much power in the Shadows... Not like this at least... You can feel the power radiating from it as the ship moves; It's like the ship is alive!" I chuckled at her comment; She wasn't far off the truth. In fact, the reactor was in part powered by my own energy. The resulting reactions in the fusion core were much more powerful than they would have been if it was pure fusion technology, but it came at a cost. If the reactor was damaged in some way, the entire ship would be all but doomed. As I stood there however, a notification came through on the threat indicator net. I walked over to the terminal and brought up the indicated area of the map... And groaned. It was a massive fleet, and it was growing. I turned to the Command Officer and said,

"Scramble everyone. We have a Code Ainarch." The Command Officer nodded, and I strode out of the Command Center, climbing onto Kaelani as he appeared from around a corner.

Where to? He asked. I closed my eyes, lowering myself against his neck, and wrapping my arms tightly around his throat, and replied,

"Boltz."

[Half An Hour Later...]

[Boltz]

I sat down at the table in our apartment alongside Chit, Zee and Cewa. Aebby, who had been at the shop to visit Zee at work was also there, but out of all of us, it was Cewa with the most regretful expression on his face.

"We have to deploy everyone..." Cewa said, looking down at his bitterbean. He glanced up, and I could see the worry behind his eyes.

"This is the single largest fleet the Heralds have launched... And I fear they're gathering for a major strike." I nodded, and Cewa said,

"I'm going to go direct to the Aerrianis; I'll let you make arrangements for the work needed here." I gave him a solemn nod, and he drained his bitterbean, before standing up and walking out the door, his steps heavy with the burden of knowledge I didn't hold.

I turned to Aebby and asked,

"Think you could help with some of the back of house work while we're away, Aebby?" The Tegrine nodded, and replied,

"Of course. That's what friends are for, right?" I chuckled, nodding.

"Thanks. It means the world to me, you know." I said. Then I turned to Zee, sitting beside me on the opposite side to Chit.

"Zee, I want... Wait,  no... That's too soft a word. I need to know that Chit is safe... Protect my Core." Anzheolt nodded, and replied,

"With my life, Jakob." I smiled grimly at that; He was one of just a few people who was allowed to address me by name.

"I hope that it won't come to that, but if it does, and assuming I come home... I will do everything in my power to ensure that you walk the Path of the Ring. I know it's not the way of the Abyss, but... You're as much Haldosian now as you are Deepborn." The male Ashgleindu froze at the words, shock etched on his features.

Aebby looked at him, her tail twitching in concern, and she laid a paw over his hand on the table, curling the appendage around his, pulling him from his shock. He looked at her, and nodded in reply to some unseen question that passed between them, and he turned back to me, a small grin on his face. He glanced at Aebby, and said,

"Slightly more Haldosian, if I'm being honest... Especially with an... Excitable kitten hanging off me most nights." Aebby stared at him in what I was sure was only half mock horror, before she hissed,

"Not when others are around, Zee!" Zee's face bloomed purple, and he replied,

"Of course... But do you also hear me complaining, my tigress?" I swore I saw a pink glow appear under Aebby's fur, and a few moments later, we could all hear a rumbling noise. Anzheolt laughed, kissing his lover's muzzle.

"Somebody's feeling happy..." He muttered, and Aebby could only nod, the rumbling growing in its intensity. I looked around the table, and said,

"I'm sure I'll be almost out of a job by the time I come back, though." And even though I outwardly laughed, a seed of doubt began to form. What if I didn't come back?

A few moments later, I felt panic begin to creep up my throat, and I stood as calmly as I could manage to make it appear, before walking to the bathroom, and quietly closing the door before I suddenly rushed to the sink, my chest tightening with every step. My breath became shallow, even ragged, as I felt my knees turn to water, and my arms began to shake. After what felt like an eternity, I heard the sound of nails tapping on the door, and I heard Aebby's voice on the other side.

"Boltz? Are you alright in there?" When I didn't reply, she slowly opened the door, her fuzzy head appearing around the wooden barrier. I simply stared through our reflections, and Aebby took that as permission to come closer, pushing the door closed again behind her. She placed a paw on my shoulder, and I felt something inside crack, then something else, and then a third thing... It was a chain reaction of cracks somewhere deep inside, and in a split second, I had my face buried in her neck. Her arms wrapped around me and she gently knelt down and assumed a sitting position, somewhat inadvertently putting me into her lap. I gripped her tunic with a death grip.

Somehow, I just couldn't maintain the pretence of having no concern about what we were about to face, and the dam exploded.

[Aebby]

As my Terran friend clung to me like a life raft on a stormy ocean, all I could do was hold him as great sobs thundered through his body like hammer blows.

"I don't want her to be alone, Aebby..." He whimpered, and if such a thing was even possible, he gripped me even tighter. As though doing so gave him some kind of strength, he managed to regain enough composure to say,

"Three... Three Hands ago, I woke from... From a nightmare, a vision, I don't know... but I saw the Dusk of Sol... I experienced it through the eyes of somebody who was Corrupted." The moment of coherence passed, and he devolved again, but I was able to just barely make out his words between the renewed sobs.

"I... I felt reality being twisted... I felt it as... As clearly as though it was happening to me." He shook his head, gripping me even tighter as more of the sentence only played in his head.

[Boltz]

I focused my attention inwards, gathering my composure again to voice the thing that had sent me spiralling into panic.

"For once I'm scared I won't make it back... Or that I will, but I wont... I- I won't-" My voice failed me again, and my body once again descended into powerful sobs.

I'm scared I won't come back entirely myself. Scared that I'd come back with the Corruption taking root within me*, and spreading to those I love*. I thought, and Aebby's arms tightened as if in response. I wasn't sure how she had heard my thoughts, but she confirmed it when she said,

"You will come back... And you'll come back right." Her voice was barely a whisper in my ears, but somehow it cut through the fear all the same.

"What... What if... I don't?" I asked, pulling back to look at the Tegrine. Her eyes held tears of their own, but she held a comforting smile on her face as she said,

"You will. You'll be with Cewa, remember?" I shook my head, and replied,

"Aebby, what we're fighting... The Heralds are just the scout force, if that. They're made up of people who have been turned to the other side... The true threat can corrupt reality itself, given time.

After a few minutes, the panic finally faded, and I was able to regain my calm demeanour. I unsteadily climbed to my feet, and looked at myself in the mirror, before scowling. Aebby's face appeared beside mine, and she said,

"If you were either my biological family, or Zee, I'd offer to lick your face clean, but I don't think that's something you'd like, somehow." As she spoke, she pulled out a small cloth, and added,

"But I'll still clean your face for you, if you want." I chuckled, and nodded.

"Sure. Anything to buy me some more time to put on a brave face for my Siren..." I said, without thinking. Aebby giggled, purring ever so faintly as she wet the cloth and began to wipe my face with it.

"So, you have a Siren as well?" She said, and when I looked at her, I noticed a gleam in her golden gaze. I blinked, and she admitted,

"I was a little better at hiding how I felt when I saw Zee in person... Well, at least before he planted one right on my muzzle." The purring grew louder as she replayed the memory in her mind, before she continued.

"I let him sweat for a few moments after that... In a way I was slightly annoyed with him; We'd seen each other in person for meet-ups and the like, but he'd never once even hinted that he was into me... And then that. As odd as it might sound, I could feel how he felt in that all too brief kiss. And, as I'm sure you can imagine, I had to show him how it's done... The rest? That's just blissful history."

As she finished speaking, she took the other, dry, end of the cloth and wiped my face once more, then nodded.

"Alright, there you go. Now you don't look like you just tried to bawl your eyes out of your head in the literal sense. I hugged Aebby again, and said,

"Thanks, Aebby. For everything, I mean." Aebby shifted nervously, and replied,

"Oh, I didn't do much... Just provided a shoulder to cry on, a few words and a wet cloth." We both chuckled at the joke, despite it also being completely true, and walked back out to the others. Chit turned to look at us, the concern slowly fading from her face, and I saw half a conversation pass across Anzheolt's face as we neared the table. I sat down beside Chit again, and took her hand in mine. She glanced at Aebby, who simply gave a small smile.

"Sorry about that, I had to uh... Take a minute." I said, shuddering as the memory of Sol's fall played in my mind again. I was sure I was going to have nightmares about it this Lunwatch, but there was little I could realistically do to stop it.

"I'm just worried that this deployment isn't going to go the way we think it will... And that the end result won't be good." I said, squeezing Chit's hand. But somehow, the rock in my gut refused to move...

----

[Next: Stormfall]

I glanced at the clock built into the suit's helmet seal, and smiled as it said that it was just but two minutes until the new Frostreign. Chit's parents had told us they were going to observe the Shift, which was the Ashgleindu version, culturally, of fireworks on the surface; They created carefully carved clam shell lanterns which were then pushed out over the Shelf, to descend into the Abyss proper, meaning we would be alone as the Frostreign changed.

I smiled at Chit, and said,

"What do you say we send out the Frostreign, as my ancestors used to say, with a bang?" Her emerald eyes glittered in the water, and her body shifted around mine with a supernatural fluidity, which my mind noted, with an odd dullness, was probably due to the resistance of the water. Chit's cool skin moved away from my warm body, my lover somehow being able to expertly move around the small space, shifting the blanket against her direction of motion as she levitated herself above me.

Then, as if a loving fog were descending on my body, she laid herself down on my form millimetre by exhilarating millimetre. Our skin met just below the shoulders as her breasts came back into contact with my own chest, followed by her shoulders, and as I watched in fascination, her body seemed to almost drape itself like a sheet thrown over a bed. As her body descended to mine however, I felt her hand reach down and grasp my rapidly hardening shaft. Before I had time to react however, her body was already positioned, my tip held just far enough in to not be able to slip out easily, but not feel encompassed by her depths.

Chit's eyes seemed to glow in the dim water, and as I glanced at the clock again, I felt excitement grow within my body. 45... 46... 47... The seconds ticked unto the new Frostreign, and as the first digit and the second both said "5", I placed my hands on Chit's hips. As the final digit became a 9, I began the movement that would impale her on my length. A second later, the display blinked, and my tip began its invasion. As the display returned to "00:00", and turned to "00:01", I pushed my lover down onto myself, stifling a groan of pleasure as I felt the water that had filled the space be pushed away by my fleshy raider. Chit's eyes fluttered closed as she felt me slide in, the pleasure seemingly made more potent, not less, by the fluid around us... And as I hilted in her, I let her raise her hips and plunge again.

To my surprise, I could still feel every millimetre of her around me... The sensation was simply interspersed with the feeling of water rushing over my shaft. Soon we found our rhythm, and Chit had to bury her face in my chest to muffle her moans as much as possible, seemingly out of habit. She had mentioned that she had experimented on her own, but I'd never actually realised she meant in this very bed, with her parents home. As I pushed her down with a little more force, the slapping of skin on skin absent due to the water, I said,

"Don't hide your voice from me, Sirenuvental." It was an ancient word, one I'd learned from her father... But it was also one that made her head snap up and her movements cease. I saw a shifting of her eyes as she searched my face, no doubt looking for any insincerity. There was none to find. Instead, she met only a smile, and a loving gaze.

I stroked her cheek with my free hand, and repeated the word, saying in a soft voice,

"I wish to hear my Sirenuvental sing for me." Chit didn't seem to react at first, but a few seconds later, clutched tightly to my chest, clinging to me as though I were an anchor in rough currents. I simply stroked her hair, and asked,

"Will you sing for me, my Siren?" Instead of replying with her voice, she simply nodded against my skin, and a few moments later, I felt her begin moving again.

Uvental, an ancient word, almost as ancient as the Ashgleindu race. To call somebody your Uvental was to proclaim them to be your Heart's Vent. And I combined it with my secret name for her, creating a new compound word: Sirenuvental, or Siren of my Heart.

After a few moments of trying to find her new rhythm, Chit's moans began to hum through the water. Soon after, I felt her rhythm shift, become more hungry... And more fluid. Her moans began to morph into cries of lust, until finally, she was almost gasping for breath, such were the sounds uttered from her mouth... And I felt heat bloom in my stomach as she propelled me towards my first climax, her body somehow beginning to overcome even the power of the water, until I could feel only near-obliterating pleasure as she slammed herself on my shaft at an ever increasing pace. Not long after, my own voice joined hers, and I knew I was near the peak, but my lover didn't relent in the slightest. A few moments later, I felt my climax slam into my body, but Chit didn't stop even as my seed shot deep into her; Instead, she kept her body's undulations against my hips going.

As my climax faded, the peak of a second looming on the horizon, I looked at Chit's face, and was surprised to see her in some kind of trance-like state. It was as though she was lost to her lust; However, soon her climax slammed into her, and as she went over, she pulled me with her. She somehow kept pushing herself down onto me even as her limbs shuddered in place, going rigid as she rode her release. I thought she would be released from her state after that, but she continued milking me for all the seed she could get.

After what felt like a hundred climaxes, but which was more likely just a few, a final climax neared within Chit, but her strength gave out. Her hips still struggled to move, but held no stamina to continue making her final climb. Raising her hips so I was penetrating with only the tip of my shaft, I plunged her down onto me again, our ravaged loins sliding across each other and sending her a few steps closer. Again I plunged into her, my own strength being sapped rapidly by the effort. I sighed, and rolled us over, positioning myself so that I could plunge myself into her with gravity, and soon after, Chit's arms wrapped around me as she approached her final climax.

When it was but a couple of thrusts away however, an idea came to me, and I gripped her waist, flipping over again, then thrusting up into her. This seemed to elicit an louder reaction from my lover, and so I repeated the action. Moments later, I felt her final climax slam into me, and, as her climax hit, I raised her hips, pulling just barely short of exiting her pulsing tunnel, and shoved her onto me. With a final scream of primal pleasure, Chit's entire body broke into a violent orgasm, every part of her with muscles to contract twitching and spasming. A minute or so later, it faded, leaving her laying limp on my body, her chest heaving as she sucked in oxygen-rich water to regain her strength.

A few minutes after that, she had recovered enough to slide off my chest partially, and lay against my side, an odd heat radiating from her normally cool body. She looked up at me with sleepy emerald eyes, and said,

"I... I don't..." I simply smiled, and stroked her cheek with my hand, and replied,

"Shh... We can chat about it in the morning." She nodded, and mere moments later, her eyes fluttered closed, her now azure cheek laying on my chest as she plummeted into slumber. And not long after, the sensation of her chest rising and falling lulled me into an uneasy sleep, only made difficult due to my primal worry of waking to find the helmet filled with water.

Karin sat in the downstairs lobby of the office building Grenfell and Maxwell had rented for the race. As she approached the table made for three, she loudly slammed the ring's box beside her chair. Maxwell, always awake long before the sunrise, silently prepared her plate and sat across from her. Every day Maxwell had crafted a new meal for the three of them; it was never the bacon, biscuits, and eggs she was familiar with, but it always tasted good enough to eat. Sometimes enough to do it more than once.

Today a plate of rice with an assortment of spiced vegetables and a few pieces of stewed beef presented themselves on her plate. The whole dish tasted spicy, with a hint of coconut throughout. Karin had never seen it before and hoped to do so again.

"That was. . pleasant. I would certainly like to try it again. How about you, Grenfell?" Mr. Maxwell dabbed a napkin onto his face. Pure mimery. He didn't let so much as a crumb miss his mouth.

Mr. Grenfell didn't bother even pretending to clean his spotless face, "It was fine, I'm not terribly fond of the spices though. A good level, but an overpowering flavor. What's next on the list?"

Karin had an idea. A common enough occurrence for her, but rarely good for those surrounding. She greedily finished her meal and smeared as much of it onto her face as she could stomach. Then, she waited.

"I believe it would be the Maldives if we continue alphabe-"

"I liked it too, what was it again?" The two men stared at her. Maxwell with annoyance, and Grenfell with rage. As she had hoped, her interruption ensured they couldn't ignore her.

"It was Nasi Lemak, and I. . . doubt you'd need me to declare the side of beef and vegetables seeing as they rest on your face," Maxwell said.

Ooh, that got to him. That wasn't his usual "find the right word to hide my intent" pause. That was absolutely a "don't say 'fuck'" pause.

Karin reminisced as the pair of men looked away from her in disgust and continued their conversation.

I'm certain they didn't lie to me on two occasions yesterday. The first was that Maxwell let me live out of convenience. The second is that he didn't see me as a prisoner. People are prisoners, but I'm not a person to him. I'm a white elephant; kept alive because he's afraid of the consequences. He'd kill me in a heartbeat if the world looked away for just a moment. It'd be more like swatting a bothersome fly than murder. No, I don't even think I'm alive to them. They'd see it as throwing out soiled food.

She snapped back to the men's conversation when Grenfell stood, "It seems the reporters have returned. They won't be satisfied until we deny Sheri's victory. Something we should have done yesterday."

Mr. Maxwell didn't so much as look at Grenfell, but the older man shrunk from his presence all the same. Euclid looked to be forty—ten years Maxwell's senior—with short greying hair and shadowed crevasses on his face, but Karin had never seen him take charge. The few times they disagreed, he would make his displeasure known and follow Maxwell's advice. When asked, both men would call themselves equals; Karin was sure they both believed it, "Such a strange obsession with seeing their familiar lies," Maxwell uttered to his plate, "Be firm Grenfell, I do not wish to see them again unless they give up on these. . fabrications. Nor do I wish for them to disturb Sheri's work."

"They won't leave us or her alone until they get the story they want," Euclid said before leaving the room. 

Maxwell continued to ignore Karin's presence as he cleared the table. She shifted in her seat, and Maxwell failed to hide his cautious gaze.

It's only a matter of time until they grow tired of me. I need to ensure the world utters my name every time they think of Grenfell or Maxwell. To sew myself so utterly to their existence that them without me will be newsworthy.

Karin grabbed the small box holding the ring and made her way to the front door. She could barely make out the cascade of questions and Grenfell's stalwart non-answers through the walls. Maxwell, sure she wasn't planning to kill him, returned his eyes to the table.

They don't watch me enough. Guess it doesn't matter what a piece of moldy bread like me brings to the table so long as I take it with me. I have to keep them angry, or else they might forget about me; if they do, they'll assume the world feels the same.

Karin took a deep breath. A career spent manipulating the press, but the cameras never stopped intimidating her. She opened the box and took out the ring. It was a crisp silver surrounding a rhinestone larger than her thumb. Five small pearls surrounded it like a large pale flower. Toward the front end was a golden bow and a small field of rococo-styled reliefs capped the rear. The entire assembly hid most of her finger. It made writing difficult and its heft made it impossible to fully lift her finger. Uncomfortable, clumsy, and ugly. Above all, it was noticeable.

She donned the ring and stepped through the door. As she approached Euclid, the sunlight, on the same journey she had measured yesterday, struck her eye. She shielded her face with her left hand. Euclid was acting predictably dull. Dodging their questions when he could, and giving a curt "No comment" when he couldn't. The reporters had grown restless after three days hoping for a scoop about the race, Maxwell or Grenfell, or Sheri's cheating. They were instinctively pulled from their boredom by Sheri's movement, and their gazes followed her hand as the ring reflected the sunlight.

"Ms. Bernays," one of the reporters asked, stumbling over their microphone's cord before shoving it into her face, "Do you have some time to answer a few questions about the race?"

"Certainly," Karin smiled at Euclid as he glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes met and she could feel the threats for silence behind his gaze.

Don't worry. I won't tell them a damn thing about your teleporting and threats.

"Well, um, first I'd like to ask you about that ring? It's quite a large piece, where did you get it?"

Karin hoped no one notice her smile turn genuine, "Oh, this thing? I forgot I was wearing it," She brought her hand down and splayed her fingers to the camera, "Euclid gave it to me last night—a little bit late but that's just how he is—and it's so gorgeous I couldn't take my eyes off it."

"Mr. Grenfell gave you that ring? Does this mean?"

"Oops!" Karin covered her mouth with her left hand, "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone else yet, but I guess it's out now. Yes, we're engaged! When the race started he got down on one knee and asked. He was so flustered he ended up asking if I could "burry" him! Ha. That's why your questions the other day flustered me so. I didn't know if he wanted me to tell anyone the real reason I was staying with the race, but I suppose that bag's been torn now."

The reporters fired a barrage of questions toward the both of them. Euclid refused to answer any of them, instead glaring at her before returning to his stony silence.

That's right, keep your cool. After all, you don't want to cause a scene now. Anything to keep their eyes off your actions, right?

"Congratulations, Ms. Bernays, might I ask when the wedding is planned?"

"Oh, that? Let me ask Euclid. Dear," She looked to his eyes and reveled in his fury, "can I tell them when it's planned? They already know so much, I don't think it would change anything."

You don't want to draw attention. Just say yes and let me become as much a figurehead of this race as you and Maxwell. Just try to get rid of me then.

It took all his strength, but Euclid managed to calm himself into a mere growl, "Fine."

Karin thanked him and turned back to the reporter. Not content to simply tie herself to him, she did the one thing she knew would hurt his pride: prescribe him an emotion, "I'm sorry, I think I embarrassed him. His whole rough act is only there for the cameras you see. He's really quite sweet when we're out of the public. But, yes. Yes, the wedding. We have that scheduled for the first of July. It's when most of the racers are expected to be in Flores and only a day after my birthday. We want it to be a small affair, so we aren't allowing any cameras in. I'm sure you understand, we want our private life to remain so."

The only way I survive this is if I keep talking and keep them thinking about me. The absolute last thing I need to do is roll over and shut up. To start working with them rather than against them. To be like Sheri, choosing the life of a puppet over freedom.

"Could you tell us how it started? What will this mean for the race, or-"

Euclid pushed the microphone back and grabbed Karin's shoulder, "Silence! You know enough about our private lives," he almost choked around the world 'our,' "There is no need to pester us for more. You have your story, now leave us with a shred of ourselves kept from your pages."

'Our'? You caught on quicker than I'd hoped, but I was still able to get enough out there to keep me safe.

The reporters relented. News of the marriage was enough to make their journeys worthwhile, and Euclid eyes gave them the same instinctive feeling: "he would kill me without effort."

Euclid ushered her inside, and once behind the door he released his emotion (for he only truly felt one thing whenever Karin was involved), "What the hell was that!? We ordered you to keep silent. To not draw attention to us! And you.. You!" He stomped about the room to vent his anger in less self-destructive ways than he preferred.

Oh, this is already working perfectly. I only needed this stunt as a shield, but I'd be damned for lying too if I said seeing Euclid's reaction didn't play a part in the planning. But, best to calm him now so he doesn't act out until the story's printed.

"Yes, you did, and they were going to ask about why I gave up so many lucrative opportunities to stay with the race. Would you rather me dodge the question until they start asking new ones, or shut them up? I did you a favor."

Euclid stopped pacing and stared at her with his mouth agape. He had words he wanted to say as much as he had acts he wanted to do, but nothing came of either besides thoughts, "Fine," he finally decided on an action and scowled, "but do not assume I've fallen for your lies. I do not know your plan, but I know this was an attempt to undermine me. This will put you in a new position Karin. You are still here, under our watch and you will not jeopardize our mission."

Karin—as usual—risked everything to push the notch once more and shook her head, "Really, I do so much for you dear husband and you call it an attack. No wonder it's taken you so long to find a wife."

To her disappointment, Euclid didn't shout, scream, or strangle her. Instead, he calmly spoke, "Truly, dearest, if this keeps up I will soon lose a wife."

Now you're getting it. You were always the more difficult of the two. Maxwell was honest, he doesn't give a damn about me. So I'm safe as long as my disappearance causes questions. But Euclid You're angry and eager to hate. You hate Sheri and she works with you, so where does that leave neutral-at-best me? My best plan was to give you an avenue for that hate. Give you a plan to foil to remind you that you're smarter and stronger than me and you'd never think of killing your favorite source of schadenfreude. So, yes, turn my plot against me. Use this marriage to chain me further to the race. Torture me with that instead of death.

I am Karin Bernays, and this race is how I killed my husband.

Beginning • Previous • Next

On one of his scavenging journeys, Louis Kelping and his small crew of eight arrived with a bulging sack of relics from the lost world. He always presented his findings first to Captain Francis and his officers who would sift through the haul, deciding what would be valuable for the ship and how the rest might be distributed. Wires, copper, and gears were prized most. Any mechanics were stripped down, reassembled, each piece finding new life on the vessel.

After the items had been sorted and distributed across the ship, Louis gathered what remained and carried them to his suite. He laid them out on the table, and Joe, Anne, and Sam leaned in, faces lit with excitement, fingers ready to explore.

Shiny stones, small plastic figures, and fragments of aluminum scattered the tabletop, but one piece captured their attention above all—a sand timer. Joe and Sam, unable to resist, both reached for it at the same moment, each racing to be the first to hold it.

Joe, being the eldest and the fastest, grabbed it first, lifting it with a triumphant grin and wagging it teasingly before little Sam. Sam’s jaw tightened, his eyes squeezed shut, holding back tears that threatened to spill. I nuzzled against his leg to comfort him. Their parents chided Joe, telling him to share the sand timer with his brother. After a moment’s pause, he suggested a race—up on the deck, from one end of the ship to the other—before the sand ran out.

I ran with them. We raced in wide loops from one end of the ship to the other. The timer was slipping away, and I ran harder, faster. I ran as if everything depended on that last grain of sand.

XXXXX

I could still see the sand timer, each grain slipping away like a final breath before my eyes. The door between the material and ethereal worlds was closing, the portal sealing, while the lifeline tethered to my body grew ever thinner, weakening, drifting beyond my grasp.

We sprinted from Big Yard, relieved to see no sign of the Warden patrolling the area, then crossed the swaying rope bridge.

“Hurry up!” I stopped, glancing back to find Lee lagging several yards behind. Rusty and Marlow—the middle Wise Keeper—clung firmly to his back, while Flynn sat ahead, one hand gripping the strap of an oversized dark green sack that matched him in size, the other hand buried in Lee’s fur for balance.

"I’m running as fast as I can!” Lee gasped, his tongue lolling, flinging flecks of saliva at the rats. “But it's almost impossible to keep up with you!”

Sea Green stretched ahead, its rolling hills lush with green grass and vibrant trees basking in sunlight. Splashes of wildflowers painted the landscape in colors almost unreal. The stretch of green land looked almost too perfect. I imagined this was the world as it had been, before the Great Wrath. How the world once looked. But the closer you got, the more you noticed that it was only a replica of the lost paradise. A mere imitation made out of plastic, plexiglass, latex, and nylon.

Little Eden wasn’t home to all cats. Some, unwilling to trade garden patrols for a roof and scraps, wandered to Sea Green, where existence was easier… or as easy as life allowed in Floating City. The cats of Sea Green roamed freely, sprawling and tumbling across the artificial grass. Meanwhile, dogs raced and barked with delight, sniffing trails and marking bushes or flower beds as they pleased. Here and there, human settlements dotted the landscape: dome-shaped houses of stacked rubber tires and recycled glass, glinting like jewels under the sun.

A piercing screech pulled us toward one of the domes. We slipped through the gap in the dark green tarp that served as a door. Inside, we found the wraith-Page, back arched and hissing, eyes locked on Alan with a look of pure malice.

It launched itself off the long table, and Alan screamed as it clawed its way up her wounded leg. She clutched its neck, desperate to tear it off, but it clung to her, one paw reaching for her pocket. Stumbling back, she tripped and crashed into the wall. The black stones tumbled from her pocket onto the floor. In an instant, the imposter Page leapt from her leg toward the stones, but before it could reach them, Gunther seized it by the scruff of its neck.

“What’s gotten into you, Page?” he demanded, his eyes wide with alarm, as the creature hissed and yowled, swiping at him with dagger-like claws.

He rushed to the small cage on the table, wrenched the door open, and forced the creature inside. Then he slammed the door shut and locked it. Enraged, the imposter thrashed about, flinging itself against the cage walls, hissing and shrieking.

After a moment, the creature quieted, though its sides still heaved with residual fury. Alan threw a blanket over the cage, and, with a final, defeated huff, the creature fell silent. She picked up the two black stones from where they had fallen and placed them on the far end of the long table, away from the cage.

We crept silently to a space behind a shelf stacked with jars, vials, and pots filled with powders and liquids in every color. The rats slid off Lee’s back: Flynn dropped down to the floor with a soft thud, his fall cushioned by the sack he carried. Rusty followed close behind, and finally, Wise Keeper Marlow joined them.

“What's the plan? What are we going to do?” Lee whispered, struggling to contain his excited voice.

“We need the wraith to swallow this,” Marlow replied, reaching into Flynn's sack and pulling out a thick, dark-brown hairball.

“What exactly is that?”

“This,” Marlow said, brandishing the dense hairball, “is the Soul Cleanser. It’s made from cat hairs fermented in seawater for a year, with sacred liquids from the Wise Keepers—”

I pulled a face. “Oh, wonderful, that sounds appetizing!”

“—and then dried in the sun and blessed by the leader of the Wise Keepers.”

“Who would that be?” Lee asked, curious.

“Why, me, of course!” Marlow answered, looking slightly affronted.

“How are you going to get the wraith to swallow that nasty, stinking hairball?”

“Soul Cleanser!” corrected the Wise Keeper.

“It won’t be easy,” Flynn said, pulling a few thick cords from the sack, each one as long as three cat tails, and knotting them into lassos. “Rusty and I will need to catch the wraith and hold him down, while His Wiseness gets him to swallow the Soul Cleanser. Once he does, the wraith will be forced out of Page's body—that’s why it’s called a ‘Soul Cleanser’—and then you can re-enter your own body.”

“And I’ll chop the wraith’s head off with this!” Rusty announced, brandishing a long sword fashioned from a razor blade. “It’s been blessed by all seven Wise Keepers with their sacred liquids.”

“Do I even want to know what those liquids are?” I asked, uneasy.

Flynn grinned slyly. “That’s a secret. And believe me… you're better off in the dark about it.”

“Quiet, everyone!” Marlow whispered, raising a hand and a finger to his lips to signal us to fall silent.

Just then, Dr. Starkey, the Sea Green veterinarian, walked in from another room, carrying Ziggy in her arms, his shoulder and legs swathed in bandages. Her wild curly gray hair bounced as she carried him over to a corner and gently lowered him into a basket, where he slumped, too drowsy to move, against the soft cushions.

“He had a nasty wound on his shoulder,” she said, stroking his head lightly. “He’ll be alright, though. I gave him something to help him relax. The burns on his legs should heal within a few weeks. Of course, with proper care–”

She paused suddenly, blinking in surprise. After a quick adjustment of her crooked glasses, she looked up at Alan's serious face. “What’s the matter?”

“There's something wrong with Page,” said Alan, her eyebrows furrowed with worry.

Dr. Starkey's eyes fell on the blanket-covered cage. She cautiously approached it and lifted the edge of the blanket, glancing inside. But she flinched back when the creature hissed and lashed out, a sharp claw scraping against the metal bars. Wordlessly, she lowered the blanket back over the cage, a troubled look crossing her face.

“He’s never acted this way before,” said Gunther.

I floated up onto the table, watching the vet closely, sensing she was about to deliver unwelcome news.

“He could be in shock, a panic reaction to today's events,” she began, then hesitated. “But…”

Alan swallowed hard. “But what?”

The vet’s gaze darkened as she glanced between them. “There's a chance he could be… infected.”

“Infected with what?” Alan and Gunther echoed in unison.

“I’ve been finding animals, mainly rats, infected with a strange parasite lately,” Dr. Starkey explained. “Just a few weeks ago, I came across a dead rat on the street with tendrils pushing out from its mouth. I brought it back to the lab, dissected it, and inside was this gelatinous creature… something that looked like a jellyfish.”

“So, you found a dead rat with a jellyfish in it,” said Gunther, bluntly.

“But it wasn’t a jellyfish. I don't know what it was. Anyway, whatever it was, it had infiltrated the rat’s organs and nerves completely.”

“What makes you think Page is infected with this jellyfish parasite?”

No! It's not the blob. It's a wraith! I wanted to tell them.

“Because the other day, I saw another cat showing the same behavior as Page. I was doing a routine checkup on the cats in Little Eden when one of them caught my attention. He’d become unusually aggressive, slashing at the other cats without cause or provocation. And it wasn’t just his behavior. He’d grown much bigger, too, as if something was transforming him.”

“What now?” Gunther snapped, scowling. “Are we just going to stand here and watch that thing eat Page from the inside? Are we going to let him die?”

“I was sure that the apothecary had something that could've helped him,” said Dr. Starkey, “but that shop is, obviously, gone now. So, there's no magic pill that can cure him. We no longer have many of the medicines that we once had in the old world.”

Alan frowned. Her face tightened as she looked at the vet. “Then how will you remove the parasite? Can it be done without killing him?”

I glanced anxiously at the vet as her tone grew grave. “The only other option would be to surgically remove the parasite.”

As soon as those words were said, the world seemed to fall around me. She was going to cut me open!

I looked frantically at Alan and Gunther. Tell her no! Don't let her cut me up! It'll kill me, and something else will come out beyond your control. Please hear me!

Although his rugged appearance, a buff frame and thick beard, made most people find him intimidating, Gunther was, at heart, a gentle soul. And now, his tough exterior cracked; his expression crumbled, and his eyes filled with tears.

Alan nodded. “Alright,” she said firmly, though there was just a hint of apprehensiveness. “Whatever it takes to save him.”

It was too much for Gunther. He left the dome for a lone walk with his own thoughts. Meanwhile, as Dr. Starkey and Alan grappled with the imposter Page, struggling to pull him from the cage, I flew down and floated back to Lee and the rats who'd been intensely watching the entire scene.

“You have to do something now!” I shouted.

Lee didn't hesitate. With an excited bark, he swiped his paw across the shelf, knocking bottles and jars to the floor with a loud crash. Glass shattered as he and the rats toppled the entire shelf, sending it crashing down.

Dr. Starkey whipped around, eyes wide, mouth agape in shock and confusion.

“Oh, no! No!” she screamed.

She looked frantically left and right, trying to track Lee as he raced around the room, running in circles and knocking over shelves, vases, and chairs.

“There he is!” Alan exclaimed, spotting the white-and-brown blur zipping from one corner to the next. She quickly shoved the imposter Page back into the cage, then joined the vet in catching the dog.

But the cage door wasn’t locked. It creaked open, and the creature stepped out. My breath caught painfully in my throat, leaving me paralyzed, gripped by terror.

I couldn't recognize myself anymore. The wraith possessing my body had twisted me beyond recognition. My reddish-brown fur, once as welcoming as a hearth’s glow, was now dull, slick with grime. My almond-shaped eyes, which once gleamed with flecks of gold, had become deep black voids. Soulless, endless darkness.

The creature leapt from the table, landing heavily on the floor. Flynn spun the lasso with a fierce focus, his eyes locked on the imposter Page. With a swift throw, he looped the lasso over its neck, then dashed to its side, using the cord to hoist himself onto its back. It reared and bucked again, arching its back, but soon its energy waned, and it collapsed onto its side in exhaustion.

Marlow rushed forward and tossed the Soul Cleanser into its open mouth. Rusty then looped a second lasso around its jaws, pulling tight to keep its mouth closed, forcing the creature to swallow the hairball while Flynn eased his lasso’s grip.

Then, something started churning violently within the creature. I could see a frantic movement shifting under its skin. The imposter Page rose shakily, its limbs spasming. Flynn leapt off its back and scrambled out of its path. Its head jerked back, mouth yawning wide in a violent gag, as something clawed its way up its throat. With a sickening, wet splat, the oily wraith finally burst from its mouth, slithering onto the floor like an eel. My body collapsed onto the floor, now an empty vessel.

“Page, go! Now!” Flynn’s shouts cut through the madness—shelves toppling, glass shattering, the wraith’s shrill screeches, Lee’s frantic barking, and Alan and Dr. Starkey’s desperate screams.

The sand timer reappeared before me. Its grains were pouring through the narrow neck, slipping away like the moments of my life. I broke into a sprint, the sound of the shouts and laughter of Joe and Sam ringing in my ears, their footsteps gaining ground, just as I remembered them running across the ship’s deck.

XXXXX

“Ha! I won!” Joe exclaimed triumphantly, crossing the finish line they'd marked with forest green chalk, while Anne stood nearby as the judge—though I could tell her mind was elsewhere, her gaze lost in the distant stretch of blue water.

“No, it was Page who won,” Sam panted, pausing to catch his breath against the rail.

Joe stuck out his tongue. “Page’s a cat. That doesn’t count.”

Sam turned to Anne. “You’re the judge! Tell us who won.”

Anne shot them both an exasperated glance. “I say no one won! Now, will you both shut up about this stupid race?”

“You weren’t even watching! You don’t know who won,” Sam snapped.

Joe marched over to the sand timer. He picked it up, and grinning, waved it in the air. “I guess we’ll have to race again!”

I spun around, tail high, and meowed in pure delight. Before the sand timer even settled on the floor, flipped by Joe’s hand, I was already pacing around the deck, my paws, light and quick like lightning.

XXXXX

Suddenly, I was airborne, soaring through the air before plunging back into my own body. Light seared my eyes as I struggled to open them, and a sharp breath filled my lungs as I gasped for air. I was alive again, as though I'd been reborn.

There were a total of four items in Will’s inventory: his dagger, the spiked chain, a set of six paralyzing throwing knives—all stacked in one slot—and a mirror fragment. From what he had managed to establish in the previous loop, it hadn’t made him a keyholder. Looking closely at it, it didn’t have the same information Helen’s did, either. There was no mention of the tutorial and only a partially explored map.

Tapping on the other mirrors in the bathroom in order, Will pressed the fragment against their surfaces. All the hints were instantly copied within.

At least that functionality was the same. It also seemed to have a number of additional options, most of which were locked with the explanation that completing the tutorial was required. Of those that were enabled, Will found what he could describe as a character section. There, he could see his name, current class, and obtained skills, including the permanent one. It was also of note that the inventory provided a slightly more detailed description of the items in his possession.

Taking a deep breath, the boy put the fragment away, then stared at the rogue mirror.

“Danny, I challenge you,” he whispered.

CLASS DUPLICATION!

Only one rogue can be present.

Freezing eternity.

Time froze still as the pair of red messages emerged in the mirror. Soon they were gone, replaced by Daniel. The boy looked identical to last time, all the way to the wrinkles on his clothes.

“You actually did it,” he said with a mixture of surprise and appreciation.

“I didn’t get to keep your knives,” Will said.

“It’s too early for you to be greedy. I helped, isn’t that enough?”

“You didn’t tell me about the mirrors trying to kill me. I could have died.”

“You’d have been fine. The fragment would still have gone to you. Probably the loot drops as well.” Daniel didn’t appear in the least concerned. “You have it. That’s all that’s important.”

Arguably it was. The mirror fragment was the most powerful item eternity let someone keep by far. That made Will all the more suspicious that Daniel had let him have it.

“What is it exactly?” he asked.

“Starting with the questions already?” the other smirked. “Fair enough. It’s…” he paused for a moment, searching for the right words to phrase it. “Think of it as a mobile phone. Contains lots of useful apps and lets you photo mirrors.”

“Photo mirrors?”

“The thing you did just now. Pro tip. It’ll be a lot faster if you copy everything from Helen’s fragment.”

The explanation could have been better, though it still conveyed the necessary information. Asking how to unlock all of its functionality was the logical question, but not the most pertinent one. There was a far more important topic Will needed answers on.

“How did you die?”

All the cocky amusement on Daniel’s face abruptly vanished.

“Things happen.” He looked away. “And it’s not exactly death. I’m still part of eternity.”

Just not for the rest of the world, Will wanted to add.

“Let’s focus on things moving forward. One more room and you get to face the tutorial boss. As long as Jace doesn’t mess things up, you should be fine.”

“So much for answering questions.” Will shook his head.

“Fuck you,” a glint of anger emerged on the former rogue’s face. “You think you know how things work? You’ve seen nothing.”

“How do you know?” Will clenched his fists. “It takes four to start the tutorial. Either you’re lying and you had a full group before, or you don’t know anything about it. Which is it?”

Mentally, Will prepared himself. Although things had been amicable so far, this remained a challenge, and he had seen the speed and precision with which Danny could throw daggers at things he didn’t like. To his surprise, no such thing happened. His dead classmate looked him over from head to toe, then leaned on the right side of the mirror, as if there were an invisible wall there.

“You really don’t get it,” he said in a low voice. “I’m trying to help you. You’re right, though.” He looked Will straight in the eyes. “I didn’t know what happened in the tutorial until your party started. Still, I know what follows.” He paused. “It can be skipped. I made that mistake and plunged into a world I wasn’t prepared for. That’s how I died.”

Chills went down Will’s spine.

“Helen told me you took her to the subway. What were you searching for?”

“A way out. What else? I was too lucky too soon. We’d leveled up to the max, only to see it was not enough. You are making progress.” The boy let out a sad laugh. “That’s what eternity says when you reach a waypoint. But it’s not a single path. I can’t even remember when I joined eternity, and in all that time, I never knew you got to loot weapons.”

“Come on. I saw you.”

“Random rewards. You usually get a permanent every few hundred goes. The really good ones occur once in ten thousand.” He reached into his back pocket, revealing a throwing knife. “Knives of affliction. I thought it was the most overpowered item in existence back then. Now, it’s only slightly better than what you got.” His eyes narrowed into a frown. “From the tutorial.”

The resentment was understandable. No wonder the boy had trouble. The phrase bringing a knife to a gunfight came to mind. There was no telling whether there were actual projectile weapons, but even if that wasn’t the case, a single set of knives wouldn’t cut it against enemies in full gear.

“I’ll tell you this much. The only reason the four of you are alive is because you’re still under eternity’s protection. Soon, you won’t be. If you don’t want to go through an endless cycle of deaths, you need to finish the tutorial fast and gear up as quickly as possible.”

Memories of the archer flashed through Will’s mind. After everything said so far, facing such an enemy was outright suicide. The person must have already completed the tutorial, obtained his class weapons, and more.

“What do you need me to do?” Will asked.

“You’ve already done it.” The other put the knife away. “You have the fragment. Just place it onto the mirror and get me out of here.”

“That’ll work?”

“It won’t bring me back to life, but at least I won't be stuck here.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that.

“Think of me as your own AI guide, just better. I get to move about through you and you get to use my smarts. Win win.”

It was a universal certainty that whenever someone used the phrase “win win”, only one of the sides got to reap the benefits. There was no telling what Danny’s game actually was. The first thing that came to mind was a place swap. Will, like most boys his age, had seen enough horror movies to be familiar with the trope. Eternity had already stated that there couldn’t be two rogues at once, although that posed the question: why did it still consider Daniel to be a rogue?

Will distinctly remembered the first time he had made contact with the mirror. Back then, he was proclaimed to be the new rogue, and still…

“No,” he said firmly. “Not before we finish the tutorial.”

“Don’t play games with me,” a threatening note weaved its way into Danny’s one. “I won’t let you clear the second floor, so—”

Will knelt down on the floor, hiding from view. It was a childish thing to do, and yet the noises of reality had returned. Counting to three, he slowly stood up. The mirror was as it should be, containing his reflection. His hunch had proven correct. Challenges followed a similar logic to wolf mirrors. The difference was that once mirror and challenger lost sight of one another; the challenge was ended.

No time, the boy thought as he took out his mirror fragment. Danny was correct that the group had to gear up as quickly as possible. At the same time, there was one small detail he had overlooked: nowhere would eternity be as generous as in the tutorial.

By the time he returned to class, the majority of his schoolmates were present. There was no time to talk, so he calmly took his place and went on to do the usual loop extending activities until it was time.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispered to Helen while passing by.

“Oooh! Strategy meeting!” Alex butted in.

Of course, of all the people he’d be the one to hear. Whether on purpose or by accident, he had ruined things. Will’s intention had been to tell Helen about Daniel’s reflection and determine what to do. That was no longer possible.

“Yeah,” Will added. “We’ll take a new approach tonight.”

Unfortunately, Alex’s overreaction had caused a whole set of other issues. Several of Helen’s friends had quickly swooped by, dragging her from the undesirable elements in class. Jace also chose to stick to his team friends—he had to spend the rest of the day with them, and experience had shown the less he deviated from his usual self, the better things went. In the end, Will and Alex were left alone.

“Thanks.” Will sighed internally.

“Ooof, bro. Helen’s got some sus friends.”

“It’s not her… Anyway, get some normal clothes for tonight. I’ll text the others.”

“Normal clothes? What’s that?” the goofball asked, but Will was already on his way out of the room.

By evening, when the group gathered for their next school run, his intentions were more obvious. Will, along with Jace, had taken the time to pass by a sports store within their restricted area and buy four dark hoodies.

“For real?” Alex looked at the piece of clothing in disgust. “This is sus as heck, bro.”

“It’s less bright,” Will said. “We just need not to attract attention.”

“With this? Bro… I’d arrest me just for wearing it.”

“He does have a point,” Helen said. “Four people wearing the exact same black hoodies on school grounds after dark? All we’re missing are gang symbols sprayed on.”

“It’s better than what we had. The plan is to level up at school, then search the rest of the area before heading into the vice principal’s office. We know there’s at least one mirror out here. There probably are a few hidden ones as well.”

“Goblins in a parking lot is the opposite of hidden, Stoner.” Jace crossed his arms. “If we go for muffin boy’s mirror we might as well—”

“That’s why we start as usual. Just this time we also do the rooftop.”

Events proceeded as they usually did. Having gone through the experience so many times, the group wiped out everything on the first two floors in ten minutes, chatting amongst themselves in the process. Will was secretly hoping to get another permanent random skill, but none appeared.

By the time they reached the rooftop, the group—with the exception of Jace—had all reached the mid-level of their class, or more. It was with great enthusiasm that they came across their first flying opponent.

The creature resembled a vulture with a long, sharp beak and equally scary talons. A dozen loops ago, they would have frozen in their tracks for several seconds to assess the situation. Now, Will brought down the bird with his paralytic throwing knives moments after it had appeared. Alex had assisted just as fast, throwing a mirror trap right beneath the monster before it hit the floor. That only left Helen to kill it off with one strong slice.

“Lit!” Alex grinned. “Didn’t even smash the roof.”

“Very funny.” Helen reached for her phone, then texted Jace to come up before grabbing hold of the dead bird’s beak. The corpse instantly vanished, leaving a whip blade in its place.

“Woah! Now that’s OP,” the goofball said.

Will had to agree with him. He didn’t have a clue how to use such a weapon, but already he knew that he wanted it. Realistically, he was the only one who could handle it properly. Helen had her hands full with her massive sword, and it didn’t seem Alex’s style at all.

“What crap did you get?” Jace asked, emerging onto the roof. “Holy fuck! That’s actually cool.” He went to the weapon and picked it up. “Causes bleeding.”

“Does it extend?” Alex asked in hope.

“No. Just causes bleeding. Not enough for you, muffin boy?”

“Nah, I’m good, bro. Would have been cool if it could extend and attach to things, though.”

“Yeah.” Jace let out a laugh in an agreement. “Maybe I’ll enhance it when you fuckers finally let me level up. So, who gets it?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“I think I should,” Will said. “Fast reflexes and targeting. Would be safest for me and everyone else.”

“So glad you’re thinking of us,” Jace grumbled and tossed him the weapon.

True to his word, Will reached out and grabbed the hilt in a single action so as not to get hurt. A sense of power surged through him. Holding it felt even better than the poison dagger. Apparently, it was a rogue weapon, after all.

“That makes nine hidden mirrors,” Helen said. “Think there are more left?”

“I don’t know.” Will looked around.

From here, he could see almost the entire city. Even with everyone asleep, rivers of light crisscrossed between islands amid clusters of white and yellow dots. The cluster of skyscrapers in the city center grabbed most of the attention, like the center of a galaxy outshining the sky above. The boy redirected his attention to the schoolyard. At one point, it could have been described as adequately lit, but at some point, it had been decided bythe governing body of Enigma high to reduce costs by cutting the number of working lights to nearly none.

“But it’ll be fun to find out,” Will smiled.

< Beginning | | Previously... |

Cover Art || <<Previous | Start | Next >> ||

GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon.
Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)

Fuyuko had been both concerned and envious while watching Carmilla's duel. For everything she had previously seen and learned of her adoptive sister, this graceful, deadly princess was not part of it. The flashing, gleaming blades were mesmerizing and Fuyuko wanted to be able to do something as incredible as that someday.

The trickiness was perfectly in character though. Not only was the terrain better for her, but by fighting upon the living network of crystal and fungal roots she had deprived them both of big spells, lest they hurt others not part of the duel.

Now, while Fuyuko couldn't know for sure, she rather thought that Silvander used those sorts of spells more than Carmilla did, so that too had tipped things in her favor.

She also took note of how Carmilla had delayed using some of her powers to create surprises. Given how Silvander had recovered from each surprise, it seemed likely that he'd have won if she'd started using everything at the beginning.

Not that Fuyuko would have been able to pick apart all the bits of the fight on her own. The two faeries were fast. Mordecai and Moriko were commenting on the physical aspects of the duel through the dungeon link, and Kazue analyzed the spell work at play. The three of them were deliberately including her in their conversation, which was nice but she wished she had more to contribute.

Carmilla had even held her poise while walking toward them covered in wounds. That was when Fuyuko hadn't been able to hold back anymore and rushed over to hug her sister. When Carmilla teared up from the sudden rush of familial affection, Fuyuko felt a rush of sympathy. Their adoptive parents had turned out to be really good at making them feel welcomed and included.

After that, it was time to resume their seats and continue with the parade of people coming to ask things of the Azeria Court. She was a little confused about why some people were just guests, others just petitioners, and a few started as guests before coming back to them as petitioners. Carmilla tried to explain it to her and Fuyuko got a little bit of the ideas involved in all of these complicated court games, but it honestly gave her a bit of a headache.

Mama M was the most sympathetic here, she was mostly trusting to Papa and Mama K in these matters. Mama K seemed to enjoy some of it, but she also got tired of it when the 'romance' of the scene wore thin, whatever that meant.

Papa understood all the rules terrifyingly well, for all that he did not want to abide by them any more than he felt they needed to. During these dealings, Fuyuko got a glimpse of aspects of her adoptive father that she had never seen before and it left her fervently glad that he was as kind and open as he was.

There was a lot of knowledge and power that Mordecai had simply been choosing not to use. He picked apart the sorts of bindings that lay on some of their petitioners easily enough and Fuyuko had learned enough to understand that this meant he also knew how to make those bindings. A few of those had been bound to be happy about their service to their lord or lady.

It was disturbing to see someone ask to be relieved of the burden of being happy to be a slave.

Hearing her papa occasionally mutter about clumsy work as he undid or suspended these compulsions was even scarier.

Fuyuko's mind hopped across memories and spun possible stories. While no one treated Aia like she was as strong as Gil, Mordecai seemed to think that they were on roughly the same scale. Fuyuko had felt the power of Aia's will during their training and now Fuyuko was wondering what sort of enchantments and bindings the nine-tailed kitsune matriarch was truly capable of. For that matter, what about Shizoku? Wasn’t she supposed to take the matriarch’s place someday? Would she, Fuyuko, be able to keep up?

Childhood stories and fairy tales had become so very real in her life rather than more distant things that happened to other people. That meant any of the scarier aspects of those stories could be true too.

Not that she believed any of that was going to happen to her, Fuyuko was confident that Papa would never do stuff like that to anyone, but she just felt terribly aware that there were things far worse than simple violence out there.

Her musings were interrupted when she noticed one of the petitioners looking at her and Fuyuko focused on the current conversation.

The current petitioner was a silver-furred fey who sort of looked like a bipedal wolf or hound. At least, his head did, the rest of him looked like a normal biped, ignoring the fur of course. 'The Cuiwan', Mordecai had called their clan. There was a slightly shorter member of the clan standing a little behind him, and that was who was casting glances at Fuyuko. It made her nervous.

"Lord Mordecai, Lady Kazue, Lady Moriko," the older man said, "I noticed that your daughter, Princess Fuyuko, appears to be of about the same age as my son." He paused to gesture at the younger cuiwan before continuing. "While we currently do not have a treaty, I thought it might be advantageous to consider the possibility of a marriage between them as part of forming an alliance."

"Eww, no."

The words were out of Fuyuko's mouth before she realized she was saying them. A stunned silence rippled outward before the cuiwan men growled in anger at the insult.

She reflexively summoned her daggers when she felt their hostility, which caused the younger one to glance down at her weapons. He yelped and jumped back, pointing at her. "Father, she carries cold iron!"

Now there was a crash of sound as all the fey folk around them responded to that revelation and many of them seemed agitated with hands on the hilts of their own weapons.

"HOLD!" Mordecai's voice rolled over all of those present as he stood, filled with his will and power. It was sufficient to quell the voices and actions of most of the fey, though some such as Lord Silvander and the elder cuiwan in front of them were unaffected.

"First, Lord Arawn," he said in a quieter voice, "I understand that Our daughter's reaction might not be received favorably, but I can assure you that it was not intended as an insult. I see no reason to go into details, but I think it should be sufficient to say that she is actively disinterested in romance or dalliances from all parties, and no one I know of would have received a more positive response."

That seemed to ease tensions even if it left most of their visitors looking confused, like they didn't understand the concept.

Her papa turned to her and held out his hand, "Fuyuko, may I see your dagger please?"

It wasn't hard to figure out which one he meant, so she handed over her cold iron dagger to him, hilt first.

Mordecai raised his voice slightly and projected it across the gathering. "Now, something that should be kept in mind is our origins. None here but Princess Carmilla was born fey." He pricked his finger with the tip of the dagger and then held both hands up, to show the small wound quickly healing as well as the blood that sat on her dagger without reacting.

"Not even this body that I forged with fey powers and potential carries that weakness. As such, none of us fear it. These daggers were made as presents for Princess Fuyuko before she became Our daughter, and none shall gainsay her right to carry them upon her person, nor do We ban cold iron from our court. Do not assume you know all of the rules which we live by." He carefully cleaned the dagger before handing it back to Fuyuko.

As Fuyuko dismissed her daggers again, Moriko rose from her throne with a dramatic swirl of wind that drew attention to her. "I shall add something important here. I am a disciple and priestess of Lady Sakiya, and this will be reflected in Our court."

Fuyuko thought that Mama M looked kind of angry as she continued.

"Passions will be True. There will be no marriages of alliance forged by family or nobility. In Our court, all bonds will be decided upon by those who will be bound." As Moriko made her declaration, Fuyuko could feel that law settle into place throughout their faerie domain. Her next words did not carry the same weight. "We do not expect that all bonds will be born of love, but We do expect that all participants will be sincere. You may approach Us to ask our support in courting a member of Our court, but the decision will not be made by Us nor will We pressure anyone."

Kazue rose from her throne as well and said, "We understand these are not the rules you expect Us to abide by, but We are also bound by Our nature and devotions. Now, We do not wish to cause distress to our guests, so please, continue with the feast." Her words released the binding that Mordecai had placed. She turned to Lord Arawn and smiled before she said, "I hope the situation is clearer now. Your son would need to court Our daughter upon his own merits, and I think the situation has left her even less receptive to the idea than she would already be inclined to."

Well, Mama K wasn't wrong there. And the way the younger man was looking at her made Fuyuko pretty certain that he wasn't interested anymore, which was fine by her.

At least they weren't upset anymore. They spoke for a while longer with her parents before taking their leave and from what Fuyuko could make out conversations about alliances were all being put on hold until much later; the Azeria Court was not making any new alliances for now, though it was still bound by all alliances that the Azeria Mountain Dungeon was.

When there were no more people approaching the throne, Fuyuko was finally free to leave the dais and join the feast. She was still able to make out all the important things going on while she ate, but she'd also already known these plans.

Far up the path, past all the feast tables, a pair of rings grew, one on each side. These rings were made of mushrooms and crystal trees, interwoven so that most of the ring could not be crossed, with the exception being a single archway where the mushrooms grew very low to the ground. One of them grew in a slight depression and the other on a hill. This was combined with a few other markers to make it clear that one was to enter the low ring, as the hill ring would be where people would be coming from.

In the mortal realm, she knew that each of these was now matched with its opposite so that entering the depression here would bring you out on a hill there. The rules were simple; anyone who was not bound to Faerie could use these portals as they wished, so long as they paid the price: a single delve to the best of their ability, along any suitable path, per trip.

This caused quite a stir as permanent and easily accessed pathways between the mortal world and Faerie were exceedingly rare, and many were eager to partake. Fuyuko wasn't sure how to feel about the idea of letting a lot of fey run about but her parents seemed confident that those most interested in the mortal world were the ones least likely to cause trouble, so long as it was simple for them.

Most trouble came from the faeries who wanted something and had to go through a lot of effort to get it. They tended to cause trouble in proportion to their efforts.

Fuyuko was glad to not have to be part of all the rest of the stuff; there was a whole lot of interviewing, negotiating prices for buying out contracts, and figuring out who might become contractors for the dungeon or stay on this side to become part of the court, or even both. More often though. most of the people they interviewed became neither. It all seemed like a bother and a mess to her. Instead, she just enjoyed the chance to eat the food she'd been smelling for hours and take the time to hang out with her dragon friends.

That did bring over a few curious fey, especially some younger children. Fuyuko didn't blame them, who didn't think dragons were awesome? These dragons were also cute and friendly.

Her enjoyment of the evening was interrupted by a sudden sensation that confused her at first. Fuyuko was not used to being able to read the environment itself this way to begin with and this change was strong enough to make itself known without her paying attention.

Carmilla reached out across the dungeon's link to nudge Fuyuko's focus and teach her how to understand what she was sensing. The sensation finally resolved into the knowledge that three people had just crossed their border with the rest of Faerie, but that left Fuyuko even more confused.

One of them felt more powerful than anyone else here.

A different one felt like she was also a princess of Azeria.

What?

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Rickard crawled out from beneath the fabricator, hauling the broken fission reactor behind him. 

Hundreds of meters away, on the other side of the shuttle, a vast cloud of dust billowed into the sky, surrounded by swarms of frenzied bugs. Beneath the haze, a vast tree lay felled amid a ruin of smashed coral and crushed plants.

“What now?” he muttered, and took off running, leaving the broken reactor beside the fabricator. 

He didn’t need this. He needed to get this fabricator up and running so that he could get Tabi out of her hibernator and get her heart looked at.

At the nearest end of the fallen tree, near its twenty-foot-wide stump, someone balanced on the extended arm of some sort of bulldozer, their shouting clearly angry despite the indiscernible words.

Rickard passed the shuttle, lungs heaving, sweat streaming from his forehead.

He reached the bulldozer. Like the bugs, strictly speaking it wasn’t a bulldozer but it was bulldozer-like, and that was good enough for him. Nina, Diyab, and their families stood in a cluster nearby, their faces a mix of concern and annoyance.

“Turn this thing off right now!” Dr. Fusō shouted from atop the bulldozer’s articulated arm, dangerously close to the buzzing chainsaw at the end of it, beneath the somehow-louder hum of the billion agitated bugs above.

“What’s going on?” Rickard asked, his voice strained.

“The doctor has forgotten herself,” Diyab said. “We are merely clearing room, and she acts as though we have set off a bomb.”

“You have no idea how important this tree is to the ecosystem,” she shouted back.

“Can you explain it to us?” Rickard asked.

“No, I can’t, because I don’t know how important it is yet. I’m nowhere near finished studying the local system.”

“It’s just one tree,” Kirk Krejov countered.

“Sure, and they said ‘it’s just one toad’ when they brought the cane toad to Australia, and that caused the extinction of hundreds of species and the deaths of millions of creatures.”

“Nina. Diyab. Do we need more room? There’s plenty of cleared land for our tents around the shuttle,” Rickard said. Confusion began to stir within his subconscious. The dozen tents were already set up around the shuttle, including the three larger ones for the mess hall, Dr. Fusō’s research, and Dr. Hayward’s medical clinic.

“Once the tree is chopped up and moved, we’ll have enough,” Nina answered.

“Okay. Did you hear that Dr. Fusō? They’re done,” he called up to the xenobiologist. He turned to the trillionaires, “Can we promise her that we won’t remove any more of the local flora without her go-head?”

Nina waved her hand dismissively. “For now, sure.”

The bodyguard in the cockpit of the bulldozer looked at Nina for confirmation. She gave him a thumbs up and the ten-foot-long chainsaw switched off.

“Okay. Doctor, will you come down?” Rickard asked, moving beneath her and offering up a hand.

She paused, scrutinizing Nina and Diyab, before reluctantly taking Rickard’s hand and leaping down. She landed hard, grunting in pain as her leg went out beneath her. Rickard steadied her with a hand on her ribs.

“This gravity is going to take some getting used to,” he offered. 

He helped her up, and she slung her arm about his shoulders. 

As they began to limp toward Dr. Hayward’s medical tent Nina cut in front of them. “Rickard, I assume that since you have time to interfere here, the fabricator is up and running?”

“No,” he said, helping Dr. Fusō around her. “The reactor is broken.”

“How could you let that happen?” she asked, dogging their heels.

How could he let it happen? They, the trillionaires, were the reason it was broken. It had been stowed for takeoff, but after escaping the gravity well they had bid him to reengage it. While the one million ‘commoners’ hibernated, the trillionaires had decided to enjoy the cruise awake, rather than age five years for ‘no reason,’ and had wanted the fabricator available for any of their whims during the 125 lightyear journey.

“The reactor was not stowed before reentry, despite the detailed instructions I left before hibernating. Unfortunately, it was sent down before I was awakened, so I was not able to ensure it was stowed myself.”

That was as confrontational as he dared with his employer.

Nina ignored his accusation. “When will you have it fixed?”

“I don’t know.” 

If he had access to a fabricator he could print the parts he needed, or even a whole reactor. Ironic. But without it, there was no fixing a nuclear reactor single-handedly with one bag of tools. His mind was already running through ideas like repurposing the electric batteries that he assumed ran the bulldozer.

The bulldozer was an enigma in and of itself. As the principal fabricator engineer, he had been involved with every pound of payload, and he had no memory of the ten-tonne machine. They’d run as lean as possible to maximize the number of humans saved from Earth, bar a few lightweight luxuries insisted upon by Nina’s and Diyab’s families.

“You don’t know?” Nina demanded. “That’s not good enough. If we cannot start the colony, we will need to return everyone to hibernation until the other ships arrive with their fabricators.”

He didn’t want to go back into hibernation, and he really didn’t want Tabi waiting even longer. Not to mention, if he and Dr. Fusō were asleep, who would investigate the empty pods?

“If they didn’t decide to skip them in favor of getting off the planet faster,” Dr. Fusō said.

The trillionaires had insisted on taking the first ship as soon as it was ready, of course. He and the rest of the Exodus Committee had barely convinced them to wait for the million other passengers to get loaded. While many other ships had been close to completion, Earth’s climate had been collapsing further by the day. Who knew what decisions those they had left behind had had to make.

Who knew if they’d even made it off the planet.

“Rickard,” Nina said sternly, at the entrance to the medical tent. “Next time I see you, you will be telling me that the fabricator is operational. Understood?”

Rickard bit his tongue and nodded subserviently.

Nina stormed off as the outer door began to unzip. Dr. Hayward appeared out of it and ushered them in. After shutting the outer door behind them, he checked no aliens had slipped in too, and opened the inner door.

Colonel Sharman was inside, unpacking boxes of medical equipment on desks at the back.

Rickard and Dr. Hayward helped Dr. Fusō to the nearest bed, and free of the burden on his shoulders, Rickard sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He contemplated how they could use the shuttle’s rocketfuel for a generator, but time estimates—big ones—overrode any actual engineering. All he wanted was Tabi, with him. Safe.

Colonel Sharman placed something on a desk with a thump and called over to them. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just a twisted ankle,” Dr. Fusō replied.

“Hopefully,” Dr. Hayward corrected. “But let me take a look.”

“I meant him. Rough day, Rickard?” Colonel Sharman asked him, her voice gentle.

“Ungh. You could say that. You don’t happen to have a spare nuclear reactor lying around, do you?”

“Well, actually...”

<<Previous chapter>> <<Chapter 1>>

****

Laevateinn (legendary F-Rank): It never fails to amuse me how wrong universal religions are about the artifacts of myth that appear in their texts. And yet, somehow, they are also eerily accurate. Laevateinn is a weapon crafted by a god that wanted it to grow and conquer worlds. Now, it's your paperweight. But maybe, just maybe, it can once again grow as powerful its creator intended. All that’s needed is a little blood, sweat, and tears. Quite literally.

Bonded: No.

Ability: Growth (S+). 

Growth (S+): This weapon will grow when it is fed. What does it eat? Everything. But be careful because Laevateinn will take on the properties of that which it consumes, and subpar products might give it stomach cramps. Current rank: F. 

Stats: +1 General Strength. +1 Balance.

I blinked.

Then, I retched. 

[Oh, what the human hell. I am not cleaning that up.]  The System’s voice contained undisguised disgust. [What is wrong with you?]

“I just killed someone!” I shouted back at it, using my shirt to wipe at the edges of my lips.

[So sensitive. Buckle up, kid. You've got a lot more of that coming if you want to inherit this world.] The System’s reply was as emotionless as it was brutal.

Seeking a distraction, I read through the new notifications that appeared as I examined the dagger in my hands. Unblemished and shining bright, I realized it must have absorbed Tuttle’s blood and viscera as it stabbed him. 

“This is crazy,” I muttered. The dagger itself was…I don't know what it was. It probably wasn't too strong, not at F-rank, but I knew a thing or two, and being able to grow with time was an ability that surpassed others by far.  

Without hesitation, I stabbed the concrete underneath me.

[Would you like to consume material: Concrete (D+)? That's right. Concrete is only as strong as a D-ranked unit in material rankings. I bet that puts a damper on mankind's greatest invention, doesn't it?

[Warning!: Materials consumable at F-Rank: 2. If more than half of the materials do not exceed the current rank of the weapon, Laevateinn’s evolution to the next rank may fail.]

[Currently consumed materials: None.]

That was strange. I could have sworn the dagger had absorbed Tuttle’s blood. I turned around, stabbing random things in the area and allowing myself a distraction from the horrors of my situation. 

I stabbed the tree. I stabbed the side of the giant bridge-buildings. I even gave the air a stab, just in case. I didn't touch the human corpses. But Tuttle’s bulbous body and Leonis’s metal parts and crimson whips were fair game. Several had been ripped off permanently during the Inheritor’s fight. 

Only two materials stood out to me. 

Tuttle’s remains were C-rank.

Leonis’s remains were A-rank.

I broke out of my stabbing frenzy, and looked back. Apparently, I'd stabbed more than I'd realized, and entire sections of concrete and the sides of the bridges were cut up behind me. And yet, the dagger remained unharmed. 

The System whistled in my ear. [Holy heck. That was disturbing the watch. Listen, your dagger will gain the properties of the strongest material it stabs before evolving. So, it'll change when reaching D-rank, and when going from D to C, it'll get another chance to change again. This continues as you go up each rank. Choose your materials wisely. Or do not. I really do not care.]

“Thanks,” I raised the dagger up and pursed my lips. “What are stats?”

My stabbing frenzy hadn't just been a matter of going crazy for a moment. I was also testing something else. Stats.

Laevateinn gave me two stats: +1 General Strength. +1 Balance.

As far as I could tell, the first was what let me stab into concrete without issues. The second, I still had no idea about, but I hadn't fallen despite stabbing at awkward angles, and I think that Balance had something to do with it. 

A smile broke out in my lips. Despite everything, the idea of growing stronger like some kind of superhero was kind of cool. 

[I can tell you. But first, you have to enter the tutorial, otherwise known as the first floor.] The System’s reply washed away my cheer. [Oh, do not give me that look. It is a wonderful place. Very cheerful. You may see the entrance to your right.]

I shifted right, and found myself looking following the two bridge buildings on either side of me to their end. They both cut off abruptly before hitting the wall of the massive cavern I was in, and at the edge of the platform where they ended was a massive wooden structure. 

It was a door. Its exterior was at least one story high, as though built for a giant, and its ornate design was patterned like leaves.

[Just an ordinary door. Make sure to close it on your way out.]

Ordinary? Like hell it was.

“Floor one,” I repeated the System’s words. “Out of one hundred. What's on that floor?”

[Clear it to find out. If you survive, you can tell others what is inside.]

“So, there's something inside that'll likely kill me,” I muttered. 

[Good monkey, good.] The System’s voice and the accompanying blue box carried a hint of a smile. [Clearing a floor will cause you to rise. And if you clear all one hundred, you will find yourself on the surface of your world again. But do not think it is an easy task. You are more likely to die.]

“Am I invincible?” I asked, somewhat hopefully. “I think you said something about Inheritor’s being invincible.”

[This hub’s Inheritor’s invincibility only works within the hub. Also, it was taken by Leonis as part of his debt repayment. You do not get another.]

I glanced at the spot where Leonis had been stopped by the System. “So, if he comes back he'll be invincible?”

[Exactly,] the System confirmed. [But it will not matter for too long. At your level, your death will come swiftly.]

The longer I wait, the stronger he gets. This is my school loans all over again. Damn it. 

The door loomed over me as I walked up to it. There was a faint glow around its edges, giving the light brown wood a peach-like quality to it. 

I could guess what the tutorial would be like and none of my guesses were filled with hugs and cuddles.

[There is a way to survive. It is not an Inheritor’s duty to lead the army to battle. Objects may be summoned to aid you, and take your place on the floors of the Tower.]  

I snapped my fingers at the box, dispelling it. “People aren't objects.”

[That statement is correct. You are not an object because objects do not have life. Do you want me to help you with that?]

I paused and the sole of my foot smacked into the loose dirt. “But I'm an inheritor. You can't hurt me.”

[Can’t I? We should ask the last one.]

A chill ran over my spine. I wasn't sure why, but then it hit me. 

Had the System ever used contractions before?

“What did you just say?” I asked.

[Hmph. Humans. Such dull minds. I said, ‘can I not? We should ask the last one’.] There was no hint of trickery in its voice, only exasperation. [In case you are missing the subtext, this means I can kill you. Or, at least, I can manufacture paths that will lead to your death. I am the administrator of the inheritance cycle, not a slave to the Inheritors. You are under my purview, as both an Inheritor and as a unit, and so you will follow my laws.]

Its tone gave no leeway, and I ignored the shiver running down my spine. Instead, I looked up, and considered the System’s words. My eyes met with a gentle blue and white light, and my gaze was lost in infinity as the portal above me churned and twisted reality with casual ease. 

“That big thing in the sky, what did you call it again? The summoning portal?” I asked. 

[That is the summoning station. All your problems begin when it summons you as a unit. And unless you want to die, you will be forced to use it to summon others. All of them might blame you for ripping them apart from their safety and bringing them to hell. Do you hate it?]

“It's so beautiful,” I said. “To think I would never have known…” if the world hadn't ended. “I should use the summoning station,” I ended. 

[Good idea!]

“You don't have to be a condescending ass about it,” I replied. 

[But you make it so easy.]

Ignoring the System’s words, I looked over the hub area with a keen eye. Every time we cleared a floor, it would rise a level. But that didn't mean anything if I didn't have any way to clear it. 

I had to have allies. 

“Wait,” I paused. “Are the people I summon just going to be ordinary like me?”

[You stabbed an inheritor. As a unit you are extraordinary. And yes, there are eight billion of you, most are guaranteed to be F rank. A few may reach D. Fewer still will have gained enough power to reach above that, though some units may have the potential to outshine even the strongest of Inheritors.]

There it is again. Unit. That word just keeps popping up.

The System called us units. 

Tuttle had called us summons. 

Leonis had called us soldiers. 

Between the shock and fear that had accompanied the end of the world, I'd started to follow in their footsteps and think of the people I was summoning as objects to help me reach my goal. But the System’s words shook me out of my downward spiral.

“To me, these aren’t units. They're humans,” I whispered. I was sure that the System had heard me, but I didn't care because the words weren't for its ears. They were for me.

I couldn't let myself be swept up in their pace. If this world was going to go mad, then I was willing to stick to the insanity of common sense a little longer.

“I'm going in there alone.”

There was a pause and I felt the System’s shock reverberating through my mind and into my wider body. A minute passed. Then another. Five minutes passed before a blue box appeared in front of me. 

[I have computational abilities your human mind cannot fathom.] The System finally broke its silence. [And yet I cannot find the answer to a question I have. Perhaps your strange mind can elaborate.]

“Tell me the question,” I said. 

[Are you an idiot?] The System’s tone held genuine curiosity in it. [You had a good idea. I, the System, said it was a good idea. And now you want to change your mind and go in alone. That is not a question. It is a statement.]

“I’m going to go stab these corpses now,” I ignored the System. 

Turning back from the door, I walked over to Tuttle and stabbed him right in his dead heart. There was a squelch as the dagger entered, and then a sickening slurping sound filled the air. Then, the dagger jolted in my hand, as though it were trying to kick me off it. 

“What the—” I let the dagger go in surprise.

The dagger paused, then, on its own volition, it dove straight into Tuttle’s heart. The sucking sound intensified, and in moments the entire heart was gone, eaten from the inside out. I closed my eyes at the ongoing horror, and kept them shut as the feast continued. 

Seconds later, I opened my eyes to see the weapon clattering to the ground. The heart was eaten, and so was the body. Not even a drop of blood remained. 

Tuttle's corpse was gone.

A burp escaped the dagger. 

“What the hell kind of dagger is this?” I gazed at the weapon in horror.

[The good kind.] The System replied. [I would bond with it sooner, not later. But that is me. The System. The being that makes good decisions.]

Approaching the dagger carefully, I picked it up and jolted, half-expecting it to eat me like it had the corpse. When it didn't burrow into my skin, I sighed with relief and moved onto the remains of Leonis that the cyborg had left behind. 

Gathering them into a pile, I dropped the dagger into them and watched in fascination as it consumed the metal and crimson while just as easily as it had Tuttle’s flesh.

A burp filled the air, and a flood of blue boxes smacked into my eyes.

[Your weapon has consumed Tuttle’s corpse: C-rank.]

[Your weapon has consumed Proto-Celestial Body leftovers: A-rank.]

[You have chosen to feed your dagger with the corpses and torn chunks of your enemies. You asshole. Reward: Claim it after the first floor because I want you to do the tutorial.]

[What? Laevateinn (F-rank is evolving!]

Familiar music filled the air, clearly breaching copyright, but I only had eyes for the weapon in my hand. A deep crimson glow filled the air, and the dagger’s steel surface warped and twisted upward. The dagger flew out of my hand and hovered in the air in front of me. The light surrounding it blinked bright and then low in a rhythmic sequence. 

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

[Laevateinn (F-rank) has evolved into Laevateinn (D-rank)!]

[Laevateinn has taken on some of the properties of a Proto-Celestial Body. +1 Magic Defense, +1 Physical Defense.]

[Laevateinn has gained the skill: Whip. Boy, I wonder what this does.]

The dagger that fell back into my hands wasn't the same one that had left them. The hint was at least two inches longer, and the steel had darkened and grown even lighter. Starting from its hilt, several crimson veins rose upward until they reached halfway up the blade, and they remained there, pulsating as though alive.

There was also a crimson glow that surrounded the blade, and I wasn't sure if it was coming from the veins or the dagger itself. 

The description of the dagger remained the same, except for the rank change and the new stats it provided. 

“I'll have to figure out what all these mean, soon,” I said.

[It sounds like a tutorial could help!] The System replied cheerfully. 

This time, I agreed with it.

“Fine, fine,” I waved my free hand dismissively. 

Despite my relaxed attitude, a pang of fear was making its way through my heart. It had been less than two hours and I'd nearly died several times. I didn't want to do it again. Death was real. I could see its consequences in the lifeless corpses surrounding me. I'd counted them as I'd walked around them. Tuttle had killed fifteen humans before I'd arrived. 

Turning toward the door, I scolded myself. Even if this was the only way forward, that wasn't the reason I was entering the first floor.

I just didn't want to see their corpses anymore. 

It took me a couple of minutes to walk to the door, and I placed my hand against the warm wood. It felt like my old living room table, which was strangely reassuring.

[Do you want to enter the first floor?]

“Yes,” I said. 

I pushed the door open and I was bathed in a gentle glow. I couldn't see what lay beyond the open entrance, but the smell of morning dew tickled my nose. 

Before I could walk through, another message blocked my vision. 

[Do you really want to enter the first floor? Like, seriously?]

“I do.”

[You could summon someone. Really.]

“No,” I replied. 

Before another message could come and shake my resolve, I took a deep breath and stepped into the light.