It was as if Eric had never been there, and as if nothing had happened at all. The Second Painter had...consumed Eric's body in the most grotesque, disgusting way Adam's brain could comprehend – then acted like nothing was particularly out of the ordinary.

"Well?" The Second perked up its mist like an eyebrow. "Surely you have more questions, yes?"

For a single moment, Adam felt his hand twitch. That was all the emotion he allowed himself. No matter how despairing or abhorrent the sight had been, letting it get in the way of finding out more about the Painted World would've been unforgivable.

"I do have a few more questions," he said, with a shrug and an uneasy smile. Need...need to stay calm. There's too much to lose. Getting emotional right now won't help. And over what – Eric? "Mind if I ask?"

Outwardly, he appeared undisturbed.

"Of course," the Second replied. "What would you like to know?"

Inwardly, he was boiling.

A fever burned, pulsed from head to toe. His heartbeat raced so fast it might as well have been frozen still. Adam felt overrun with an anger so bright that his mind was reduced to a passive observer in his body.

"I..."

He may have accepted all of Eric's sins in his mind, but the wounds would take a long time to heal, if ever at all. His decade of friendship with the monster was still imprinted on his heart.

"I wanted..." Adam began, with a false smile he desperately tried to embrace. Don't give in. Don't...this guy is a near-omniscient God. You can't hurt him. "Wanted to know if..."

And it was his heart that drove him, his instincts faster than any objections his mind could devise. Adam conjured up the Stains inside his Canvas, wrapping them around his hand.

"I WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU CAN BLEED!"

The Second and Third Painters clashed inside Adam's Canvas.

It was brief. The Painter Lord of Penumbria took his Stained Ink – the very curse that the Second Painter of Rot had wrought upon this world – and wielded it as a sharpened knife. He lunged forward, his emotions propelling his advance.

The attack didn't land, of course.

Adam had half-expected it to end exactly as it did: with his furious blow falling just short of the Sculptor, an invisible magnetic force slowing his momentum until it stopped completely.

That didn't make it any less frustrating.

Contrasting his fury was the Second Painter's pure joy. "I had not expected your blood to run so hot," said the monster, with an air of amused interest.

"To be honest..." Adam trailed off, a sudden exhaustion driving him to his knees. "I'm surprised too. Thought I could control my emotions just a little better than this."

He looked up with a defiant smirk. "Can't say I dislike it, though."

The Sculptor harrumphed. "Surely this outcome does not come as a surprise. You've already witnessed this Divine Law on numerous occasions, have you not?"

His mist shimmered, rearranging itself until it formed clearly-defined letters and words.

7th Divine Law: Talents cannot be used to inflict harm upon someone with a stronger Talent.

It was information that Adam was already aware of. Many times, including just now, and when he'd faced off against Eric, his Talents of weaker Rank had been supernaturally prevented from harming his opponent.

But...there was something else here. Something that didn't seem right.

The 1st Law – it doesn't quite match up.

Adam recalled the definition from earlier.

1st Divine Law of the Painted World: Talent is Absolute

No other magic can overcome the laws of Talent.

Moreover, Talents cannot ignore other Talents – a Talent is the same as one's soul, and all souls are equal. No one is immune to a Talent. Every being of this world has the ability to acquire a single Talent.

If Talents were equivalent to one's souls, and all souls were equal, then that should mean no one was truly stronger than anyone else. In fact, that very much seemed to be both the letter and the spirit of the Divine Law.

Moreover, the gap between the Laws...the 1st and the 7th...it suggested that some time had passed between them. The idea that stronger Talents were immune to weaker Talents was implemented later.

But when? By whom?

And did it imply what Adam thought it did?

I might as well gamble on it. Should try to make the best out of losing my shit. He's less likely to be on guard after overpowering me like this.

Even now, Adam was still on his knees, breathing hard before the Sculptor of Mist. If I'm wrong, no harm done. But I'm right...

He called upon an arrogance he did not feel, a frustration he could not conceive, all the emotions he needed to look as desperate as possible – and that the Second would delight himself in witnessing. "Swear to me," Adam shouted at him. "Swear to me that we will meet again, and that you will answer all my questions."

"Of course," the Second Painter said, in a transparent lie. "I swear that when you summon me next, I will tell you everything you wish to know about this world."

A comforting yet annoying thought dawned on Adam. Despite all the Sculptor's pretenses, he had never really intended to divulge everything, even before the attack. He was only saying whatever benefited him, directing the conversation so he could point Adam like an attack dog at the First Painter.

On one hand, it meant he hadn't really screwed much up by attacking the Sculptor.

On the other hand, it meant this godlike man, one with the power to rewrite history...wasn't yet done with him.

That second thought was decidedly unpleasant. However, Adam couldn't get too worked up over it. It was only fair that the Second felt that way.

After all, Adam wasn't done with him yet either.

The Sculptor hasn't noticed, he thought, feeling the link manifesting. I should end this before it becomes visible within my Canvas. No need to give him more clues.

"I think I've had enough for today," Adam said. "Let's meet again at a later date. Send me back."

"Of course." The Second made a huge show of granting him a respectful bow. "As I said, I would never intrude upon someone else's privacy."

"But you would rewrite their past."

"We all have our vices," the Sculptor remarked, shrugging. "Fear not – very little time has passed outside your Realm. If you work fast, you might be able to save at least some of the soldiers that the First's Assassin killed."

That had been weighing on Adam's mind. Tired or not, he'd still wanted to save Captain Diego and the others. "You're too kind," he told the Second dryly.

The Mist-shaped human convulsed into laughter. "I must confess – this is the first time that charge has been laid at my feet."

And so, Adam woke up.

–

Days Later

Adam studied the outskirts of Penumbria from inside his carriage.

Much had changed since the last time he'd been here. Three differences in particular stood out the most to him.

The first – and most easily seen – change was the city's geography.

It was impossible to miss the results of the intense duel that had taken place just a short week prior. Tenver's giant-slaying arrows, each taller than an armored knight, dotted the city outskirts like lances fallen from the heavens themselves. The wide craters that they'd excavated painted a rough and terrifying picture of his confrontation with the Emperor.

And it wasn't just the land that had been altered. There were also battle scars upon the city proper, the tall stone walls that surrounded it now showing considerable wear and tear. A number of Stained Creatures had attempted to breach through during the Battle of Penumbria, their efforts just barely rebuffed.

But even with all that, it wasn't the change to the city walls, but rather the change to the Realm's Walls that constituted the second-biggest difference Adam had noticed.

Penumbria's Realm had been reconstructed with a new set of Laws – and this time, they were carefully crafted to forbid allies of the Emperor from entering the city. It was a very difficult restriction to impose; one that Adam himself wasn't yet skilled enough to pull off.

The reason Penumbria could now exist with such a sophisticated rule was that its Walls hadn't been created by Adam, but by its former lord, if only temporarily.

And he hadn't so much as hesitated when his carriage rolled into the city.

My Lord Talent is stronger than Aspreay's, Adam thought, with an eerie calmness. Even if he's more skilled than me, I can shatter his Realm without issue if he tries to claim Penumbria again.

The eeriness he felt came not with the thought itself, but with the underlying assumption that Adam didn't actually believe it would come to that.

Aspreay had shown up at the end of the fight to save Penumbria – well, to save Vasco. He'd also risked his life to save Adam's before, and that time had been motivated by the city's well-being. Somehow, after everything, despite everything else...the Painter was quite confident the former Lord wouldn't make himself difficult to deal with.

Not that he trusted him, but, still.

His presence here wasn't the only oddity. The winds of change were blowing over Penumbria. Aside from geography, and aside from the Realm Walls, there was one transformation that surprised him most of all.

"Hail Lord Adam!" cried the crowd.

"LORD ADAM!"

"KING ADAM!"

"THE PAINTER KING!"

"THE LORD OF INK!"

"THE KING OF PENUMBRIA!"

"THE KING OF THE FRONTIER!"

The third and most shocking change in Penumbria had been its people.

They were feasting, they were celebrating, and...and they were happy. There was still uncleaned rubble from the crumbling stone walls near the city's edge, yet it did little to deter their uproarious festivities.

News of the war must've reached Penumbria a week ago, Adam thought, smiling softly at the sight. And they're still celebrating.

By now, they should all have heard the announcement: Adam had secured a way to keep the Rot at bay. Furthermore, he had also brought a number of Orbs into the city as 'war reparations' from the Empire.

It was an empty gesture, of course. Ciro would invade again as soon as he'd mustered up a better reason to mobilize his troops – he would need to invent another excuse after Adam's parentage had backfired on him so heavily. But the people likely didn't know, and the few that could reason this out still didn't care.

For now, they would survive winter.

For the first time in Penumbria's history, no one would starve to death or fall to the Rot when snow fell.

To them, this meant...everything. It was enough that Adam's loud, yet unofficial declaration of independence from the Empire had spread like wildfire among the masses. To the common citizen of the Frontier, who'd likely never even seen Ciro in person, being ruled by the Painter who'd made the city richer and safer than ever before was a much more attractive status quo.

One they would die to defend.

And that steep price was something Adam refused to overlook. It would be oh-so-very-easy to do so; to drown it out in the clamor of cheering crowds, the deafening chanting of his name.

All the more reason why he couldn't.

"My lord," the coachman nervously began. "The manor awaits your glorious return. Are you certain that you'd like to–"

"–Yes," Adam firmly stated. "It's my duty to see them first."

"But wouldn't you rather celebrate right now?"

"Yeah, I would." He paused. "But they would too – and they weren't given the option."

The Coachman offered no other protests, other than mumbling something about how Prince Tenver and the others were anxiously waiting on Adam's return. Still, the man did as he was ordered.

He drove the carriage to Penumbria's cemetery.

Though the battle had been relatively bloodless, that was only true when compared to the alternative of a downright massacre – a fate they narrowly avoided.

Dozens of soldiers had perished keeping Nayt, the Elven Hangman, from entering the city. Hundreds had died defending the Santuario das Chamas from Valente, the Dark Captain.

It felt wrong to celebrate without first acknowledging their sacrifice.

"I...don't even know your names," Adam began, kneeling before the graves. "And I hate that. I hate that so many of you died because of my decisions that I can't even remember all of you. I hate that I can't visit each of your grieving families and offer my apologies."

The soldiers' loved ones wouldn't starve this winter, but their survival had come at the cost of a wound that would never heal.

"I wanted to keep anyone from dying. This was the best I could do." He shook his head. "Vasco's men were buried in Gama. I...I'll visit their gravestones too. Let them know that it wasn't in vain – that their people will be safe."

"They would like that," said a new voice.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew closer. "And know that you are no master of treachery, oh Lord Painter. Do not take away their choice with your guilt."

Adam hadn't known the man for long, so he recognized his grandiose words before his voice. "Ferrero," he said, rising to his feet, "I owe you a great deal."

The Duelist glanced over from the gravestones, looked Adam up and down, and then laughed. "You jest, my lord. You saved my life during the Ghost Ship incident, and you've also stood up for Puppets with a nobility so unlike noblemen. If anything, I dare say the ledgers are not yet balanced."

"Has the city given you trouble?" Adam's voice was sharp. "I pray no one has tried to..." He trailed off, letting the unspoken ring loud.

"Not so much as a whisper," Ferrero assured. "Hatred of Puppets is strong, but someone has seen to it that tales of my duel with the Hangman were spread far and wide. For now, the people are happy to consider me and my kin as monsters that protect them. It will pass once the victory celebrations run dry, of course, but I will be happy to indulge in the momentary glory."

"I heard of your duel," Adam said, shaking his head in amazement and widening his smile. "You truly fought a Hangman in single combat – and came out alive."

"As did you, my lord."

That was different. It had been Adam's unique Talent that allowed him to survive his duel with Eric – and even then, only barely.

It would be rude to voice this, however. "I confess that when you told me you wouldn't lose even to a Hangman...I couldn't quite believe you at the time," Adam admitted.

"You and them both." Ferrero gestured at the gravestones, his expression bitterness. "Despite Prince Tenver's orders, they would not entrust the city's fate to me. I could only fight once they had fallen. If I'd just been able to convince them–"

"A wise man once mentioned something about the guilt of the living and the choice of the dead."

The Duelist laughed. "A fool, more likely. And even he would know those words apply to a Lord, not a mere duelist."

He regarded the gravestones in silence for a few more moments before turning to the Painter with a raised eyebrow. "Say – who informed you of my duel? You've only just arrived in Penumbria."

"A little bird told me," Adam replied, with a grin. "The same one that spread the tale of your duel to the citizenry. It flew into my carriage a few days before we arrived."

Ferrero gave him a long, disbelieving look. "Once I thought of her as a detective and nothing else," he said. "Now I realize that discovering the truth lets you wield it as the most magnificent of blades."

Adam stopped as he heard some distant observers speak of him in hushed tones. The common folk heralded him as a folk hero – Aspreay's wayward, bastard son who'd returned just in time to save the city from the Emperor.

"That is not the only blade she wields," he muttered.

–

"I beg of you," Adam pleaded. "Speak to me in person for once. Must you use the ravens?"

"Aye, my lord!" The Detective's voice echoed around the courtyard as a chorus of birds repeated her words, one after the other. Every guardsman posted near Penumbria Manor appeared to develop a sudden interest in literally anything else.

When Valeria spoke again, just one of her ravens did so – the one perched on Adam's shoulder, whispering in a low voice. "The birds and this Talent belong not to me, but to the Grandmaster. I'm only able to make use of it through my proximity and their ignorance...willful or not."

Her point was simple and truthful. Adam didn't like it. "And the Grandmaster hasn't declared support for Penumbria yet. Your time at the Mines grows increasingly dangerous the more you abuse your freedom."

"Let it, my lord – or is it Your Highness these days? – if that's all it takes. We can risk my life, but we cannot risk losing access to the Talent of Communications. These birds won us the war as much as your paint did."

Adam grimaced. "You speak of your own death too freely. I wish not to sacrifice anyone, no matter how willing they might be."

"Might?" Valeria laughed softly through the raven, a low sound of high pitch. "Solving mysteries is my purpose for being; a form of art more beautiful than any portrait. Do you now understand why I would die for it?"

"No," he barked out. "I really don't. But I also know this is more than just about passion. You think there's something wrong about–"

"About how I was born, yes. Questions beget questions. Why and how did the Grandmaster happen upon so many elven corpses? And why were we so recently deceased that we could be turned into Puppets, yet not so recent that our memories remained?"

Adam gazed intently at the bird on his shoulder. "Your death would shroud that mystery forever, Valeria. Come to Penumbria."

"So would yours, my lord. And had I not stayed behind, there wouldn't be a Penumbria to come to."

This wasn't a truth he liked, but it was a truth nonetheless.

The Lord of Penumbria sighed, sipping his winecup as he peered at the setting sun. Red and orange clashed, painting brilliant hues that dazzled the eye...

Yet its vibrance was ephemeral. In less than an hour, it would be gone.

A moment of time makes all the difference in the world.

Adam shivered as he recalled the stories he'd heard of the battlefield. Tenver, desperately holding on against hordes of monsters. Solara, murdered until her Talent reached its limit.

If either of them had misstepped, even for just one moment...then they would have proven no less ephemeral than the sunset stretched out before him.

Except that if he wished, he could wait until tomorrow for the next clash of red and orange. There would never be another Tenver or Solara.

How close had his friends been to vanishing from his life entirely?

But they didn't, he reminded himself. They're here, and they're waiting for me.

Along with someone else.

"Thank you for rescuing Aspreay," he softly spoke, looking up at Penumbria Manor. He hadn't gone inside yet – mostly because of the person in question. Aspreay was no danger, but Adam couldn't imagine what their conversation was going to be like.

Even so, I'll need to enter sooner or later. Have to talk to Solara and Tenver.

No. He didn't have to.

He wanted to.

"Your praise is more than I deserve," said Valeria. Her bird took an elegant bow, gently laying its feathery wings on Adam's neck. "I merely gave you the soldier. You were the one to think of how to use him."

Adam chose not to point out the obvious – that luring the former lord into action using Vasco was simply the best move available. By saving Aspreay's life, Valeria had effectively controlled his actions already.

Tenver and Solara had taught him the value of trust, and he'd taken their lesson to heart. Adam didn't intend on reverting to his old self.

Doesn't mean I won't consider that you may have other plans, Valeria.

--

Thanks for reading!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFttCLufnp8

"Alright, guys I gotta get off now. Time for work." I said as I hovered over the 'Log Off' button on the screen. I hovered for a few more seconds waiting there in the world between game and reality.

"Later." Said one of my teammates. Two syllables calmed my mind and I clicked the mouse. Hopefully, no one would notice that I was waiting for someone to say goodbye before I left. Someone might question why I was waiting to log off when I returned. I would have to create an excuse. "Oh, the screen was taking extra long to close. Did you say 'later?' Yeah, later to you, also." My prepared response was now ready if I got called out. I did not want to seem needy after all. I pulled off my headphones and entered the reality of the all-room I sat in. The sunlight outside was still well hidden by my overpriced curtains. I grabbed the paper plate and plastic fork that had once held dinner from the night before and threw them away. I had been refilling the styrofoam cup all through the night, so I kept the still 'clean' cup and refilled it with soda. With a gulp and a look of disdain at my dirty shirt, I readied my eyes for the pain of the sunlight about to enter the room. The light from outside wasn't so bad as the clouds and fog hung around the window. The planet I worked on didn't really have weather and seasons. It was just fog and clouds, not even rain. Placing the cup down I got ready for work. The mirror of the bathroom was well-programmed and enhanced to show detailed points of imperfection that needed to be fixed. A list appeared on the reflection with lines pointing to areas that needed to be addressed. The mirror quickly changed the size from Large to Extra large on any clothing orders I made in the future. The mirror always mentioned how big my eyebrows were since I was a kid. A line was shown to my arms showing loss of muscle tone. An old scar was brought up yet again even though I thought I programmed the mirror to avoid scars. Bags under my eyes from a night of gaming. Acne from eating cheap but affordable foods. Yet again I was reminded by the mirror to eat organic. As if anyone could afford that. A voice came from the screen.

"Weight is 235 pounds. Height is five feet and eight Inches." Said the mirror in the same monotone voice he had heard all his life.

Ninety percent of the people on this planet were shorter than six feet. It was a high-gravity world after all. Luckily for me, the mirror was always sure to show any imperfections. With a wave of my hand, the mirror went black and I changed into my work clothes. Black pants and a blue button-up provided by the company. Just in time, my breakfast voucher arrived on my phone. People used to be able to speak on the phone with their voice but since no one spoke to each anymore I only paid for internet access. As for the breakfast voucher, it was a nice way the company gave back to their workers. We never got anything as great as a pizza party of course, but during these hard times, it was a nice reward. Naturally, it would only work at the more unhealthy locations. Having a bit of plastic in your burger was only natural of course. With a quick look around my tiny all-room I left for the hallway outside. Several others were also on their way to work so we all stayed silent as to not disturb each other's mornings. Down the hall, down the escalator, up the other escalator, down another hall, and through the doors and we were now outside waiting for the shuttle to arrive. A joke one of my teammates said last night ran through my mind. Unconsciously I let out a soft chuckle. The second it happened I was scolded by the scornful looks of those around me as we waited in silence for the transport. I kept my eyes facing straight ahead accepting the punishment. At the very least I now knew what embarrassing thing I would be obsessing about this week. We got on the shuttle, stood facing straight ahead, and then got off at the unionized zone. No longer in human territory every other alien species also now made their way to work. I grabbed a burger on my way and paid with a 20 percent voucher and 80 percent of my own credits. Down the street, I walked and ate as everyone also ate around me. Back in the day, people would sit down around the TV to eat together but these days it was easier for everyone to eat together on the way to work. A large bipedal lizard alien walked beside me as he often did. In my mind, he was named Steve. Steve and I were good friends who didn't talk much or at all I had told myself. The universal translator was free for 5 hours a day even though most people worked for 10 hours a day. At my income I couldn't afford a monthly rate. So I stuck with the free version to use at night with my video games. I had made the mistake of saving the free version for work hours once before. Turns out universal translators were not allowed as it was more productive for people to just receive work orders on their phones. I didn't even know who my boss was but my phone was always there to tell me what I was doing wrong. Once again Steve was getting a little to close into my personal space. At first, I thought it was an endearing quality of his species until I saw the other lizardmen do the same with humans they weren't speaking with. I had looked it up before and learned that lizardmen, being cold-blooded, use warm-blooded species as space heaters. Still, even if Steve was just using me for his own comfort, it felt good to have someone care about my well-being. Even if I was just being used for some warmth, I was happy to give it up most days. Not like I was using the heat radiating off of me anyway. A vibration from my phone in my pocket stopped me, feet away from the factory as Steve walked past and left me outside in the cold. It was a message from my girlfriend. We'd been together since I became an adult but hadn't spoken to each other for months now. Even though I couldn't afford to talk to her, she was sure to send mr a message every morning.

"Hi sweetie, great morning today. Just had some eggs for breakfast today. Real Eggs! I didn't even know chickens were real! Gonna do what they call a chicken dance tonight. Only 150 credits for a full viewing! ;D Make sure to work hard today! Busy work is happy work, at least that's what my producer says! I love you!" I read the message and reread the message to start the morning. Personalized selfies were 200 credits a view so 150 for a whole chicken dance was a steal. I wasn't going to pay for it but it was still a great deal. Even if I could afford it I couldn't forgive myself for cheating on her so long ago. Like almost all humans I was born and raised in a lab owned by a corporation. I had three dozen brothers that I had grown up with for low-skill factory work. All of which were born in the same vat as me. We didn't talk much anymore. Father CEO didn't like his children getting close. The only female human I had ever met in actual real life had been a prostitute five times my age. Female humans were usually only grown as luxuries for the elite to live in harems. Some were like my girlfriend Lillystar7852, and had been made to comfort the rest of the men of society as models. The only way I could ever meet her in real life was if she left the MostlySupporters Monastary HQ, and that never happened. Saying goodbye to her in my head I walked inside the factory to get to work. I clocked in and walked to my assembly line. My job was to make wall panels for space habitats. The line had space for four workers and four jobs but over time the others got phased out and I had to take on the duties of the other three positions. It was an all-day workout running around my department but at least I was allowed to work by myself. Five hours later it was my two-hour lunch break. Some union members had lobbied the local government to force the factory into giving people two hours for lunch. As reluctant as they were to give it to us it worked out well for them. Through some unseen hand of the market I was buying lunch from work and, because of the extra two hours, I would also be buying dinner from work. It was all worth it in the end for the freedom to not have to cook for myself. It wasn't that much more than buying it from the store. Some thought it was because the factory and the unions were working together against the workers, but luckily those conspiracy theorists were quickly fired from the company and silenced by the union. During my two-hour lunch break, I would sit with my phone and watch old shows with the other workers. None of us aliens spoke the same language and we were not allowed to talk in the factory for fear of offending others, but we were all allowed to laugh at our phones. The alien teddy bear next to me could have been watching a show about how dumb humans were but at least we were all laughing together. Everyone went silent for a moment as a notification hit our phones all at once. Looking around the room I realized I was not the only one that had forgotten voting day. To protect democracy the ballots no longer had the names or parties of the politicians who were running. The newly self-installing app on my phone gave two choices. "1, Fascism. 2, Not Fascism." I looked around with a glance at the table to see who the fascists might be. My eyes met with a strange bird-looking alien. I was only staring at him because he had started looking at me. Now I knew to avoid these bird freaks from now on. The way he looked at me was just what a fascist would do. I had watched the news, and seen the stories. I was willing to give these bird monsters the benefit of the doubt before but if this guy was a fascist then what about the rest of his people? I clicked on '2. Not Fascism' and went back to my phone. I started searching up who these bird supremacist alien freaks were. Pretty quickly I was able to find out more about these garbage-eating birds. The rest of the day was pretty boring. I worked again, ate again, then made my way back home in a haze. As I flicked on the lights and closed the door I checked a notification on my phone. "Hope you got home safe! I love you!" Said the message from Lillystar7852. With a grin and a new soda, I sat down and turned on the TV. It was some old show where a group of friends could somehow afford an apartment together and not just an all-room like his place. They even had a kitchen and dining area. Fiction or not that was a little too unbelievable. I quickly switched it and my room to gaming mode for video games and turned on my universal translator for the day.

"Hey guys I'm back." I said into the mic once the game loaded up. After about five seconds I heard another voice say, 'Hey."

"Gonna have an early night. I was playing too much yesterday and worked too hard today." I said into the darkness of my all-room.

"Yep." Confirmed another player from the game. For the next five hours, I mined some in-game ore so I could build a new set of armor tomorrow. Me and the boys would be going on a raid this weekend. At least, that's what I thought before I woke up the next day. For some reason, I could not move my body and there were suddenly three uniformed people in my apartment.

"Too much plastic in his diet." Said one of the uniforms.

"That's what he gets after voting for fascism. Heart failure is too good for him." Said one of the other uniforms. After that, it all went dark.

Chapter 5

Kaia’s heart raced as a fierce wind swept into her, catching her off guard as she traversed the rope suspended between towering structures. The gust tore her cramped hands from the rope, leaving her dangling upside down, feeling the relentless pull of the planet’s heavy gravity. Below her, like the gaping jaws of a hungry beast, lay a sandbox, poised to swallow her aspirations of joining the Division. 

Her legs faltered causing her pulse to spike. 

She gritted her teeth and forced her exhausted legs to tighten their hold on the rope. No way would she tap out on just the fifth day!

Summoning her last reserves of strength, she hauled herself back up and gripped the rope firmly in her hands. Only then did she allow herself to exhale deeply, feeling a sense or relief. However, the victory was short-lived as she saw she still had thirty meters to go.

The exhaustion from the past few days fed and watered her growing sense of failure. Things had been getting progressively worse since the opening day’s PT test. Yesterday, she had fallen from a ladder and lay unmoving on the ground as Khaazsa’s cronies taunted and laughed. Not her finest hour.

But today was another day. She narrowed her focus on the spot just in front of her and inched along. The rain-soaked jute rope squelched with each grasp of her hand, drenching her clothes and turning them into a dead weight that dragged against her aching limbs. Time crept along, the temptation to quit warring with her resolve.

When the end finally arrived, it took her by surprise. She hung there, unsure of what to do next. The rope had consumed her entire world. Giving herself a mental shake, she dropped onto the platform. 

Collecting herself, Kaia looked out from the tower at a cluster of buildings set up to mimic a small town. She quickly memorized the layout, then slid down the ladder and unhooked her rifle from her webbing. Moving with cautious speed, she began hunting for targets. She didn’t have to wait long.

The first target appeared in the general store’s empty window, a wooden cut-out of a human male wearing a black shirt, holding a pistol. The target took Kaia by surprise and she lost precious seconds before downing it with two shots to the chest. Cursing her sluggish pace, she broke into a run. The cadre had warned them that the obstacle course was timed, but that was it. No hint of the time to beat. She hated guessing. So instead, she just pushed herself to her limits.

She rounded the corner of a small outhouse and dashed to the adjoining barn. There, she paused to catch her breath and check her surroundings. In the distance, she could hear the whistle blowing as another candidate started the course. She bit back a curse. At this rate, she was going to be lapped! Why in the inferni were they running around with guns, anyway? What did that have to do with commanding a starship? 

She pushed herself off the wall, her mental clock ticking. Just then a cut-out of a green Jiuda appeared from behind the barn door next to her. She raised her rifle to fire but caught herself when she registered the child hostage. She skidded to a halt, dropped to one knee, and took careful aim. The shot hit the Jiuda square in the head. Before the target hit the ground, she was up and moving again. She was almost at the exit when she heard the grinding of gears from behind her. She spun around as the third target popped out of an open garage. She hit it with a precision shot.

Confidence bolstered by her successful shooting, Kaia ran to the next section of the obstacle course, a barbed wire crawl. She hit the ground, making sure to keep her rifle barrel clean, and dragged herself forward with her elbows, thankful for the recent rain. It made the ground just moist enough to not spray dust in her face, as long as the wind didn’t pick up again. 

She hadn’t gone more then half way when a low section of barbed wire ripped at her hair and skin. She jerked away too hard and her face smacked the ground, hard. Kaia cursed her distracted mind and struggled to focus on the task at hand. A trickle ran down the side of her face. She pushed the pain away and continued the crawl. She finally cleared the last wire curl and stood, nodding to the waiting cadre member. 

“Blue Four, checking in,” Kaia said, using her code for the day. She wiped at her cheek and her hand came away smeared with blood.

“Proceed to the range.” The cadre member motioned to the left, oblivious to her injury. “This is an accuracy exercise. Every miss contributes to your course time. Have a good one.”

How was she supposed to have a good one when her head was bleeding? Cursing under her breath, Kaia decided the sleeve of her fatigue wasn’t too dirty and pressed it to the wound as she made her way over to the range. Small circular targets were situated one hundred metres away. She eased herself onto a reed mat and gave her weapon a once-over. A box of preloaded clips sat next to her. She checked the round count and loaded it into her rifle. Five rounds, five targets.

She sighted down the range and took a deep, calming breath, then gently pulled the trigger on her exhale. The rifle hummed and spat out the slug, which hit the first target dead centre. The black disc fell away with a ping. Another shot, another hit. But the third target remained stubbornly upright, her round chipping paint off the surrounding housing. 

Kaia swore. By the Emperor, why did she keep pushing herself so hard? The last thing she wanted to do was fight infantry battles. Let the Legion play in the dirt. 

She doubled down on her focus and hit the remaining two targets. Triumphant, she ejected the magazine, winced as she rose from the mat, and returned to the cadre member. He motioned her silently onto the next station.

A sticky humidity settled over the base, thickening the air and making it hard to breathe.  

“Fuck this world and its sudden mood swings,” Kaia muttered as she hopped over a series of hurdles. She came to a set of stairs and at the top was a pair of platforms connected by a horizontal ladder. She crossed it, keeping an eye out for targets, and then scrambled down, burning the last of her energy in a short hundred-metre dash to the finish line. 

“Sit down, you are done for the day.” A cadre member motioned to the shade of a stunted tree where several other candidates were already huddled. They looked up as Kaia approached, and their hostile glares burned into her. Kaia sat off to the side, just outside the shade, feeling the exhaustion weigh heavily on her as she braced herself for another round of silent prejudice, her sense of isolation growing deeper. 

As if the Emperor sensed her need for companionship, Rilleta jogged across the finish line and reported to the cadre member. Sweat soaked her grimy clothes, but she showed no visible signs of fatigue. She sauntered past the cluster of candidates and sat beside Kaia.

“That was fun!” Rilleta said with infectious enthusiasm.

Despite herself, Kaia smiled back. “Speak for yourself.” She pointed up at her head wound.

“Ouch,” Rilleta’s nose wrinkled as she examined Kaia’s injury. “Looks superficial, though. Was it the barbed wire?”

“Yeah.” Kaia touched the wound, wincing. “By the Emperor, do I need a drink.”

***

Two hours and a shower later, Kaia settled into a booth at the Ice Hut with Rilleta and Giana. 

“To surviving day five!” Rilleta raised her glass.

Kaia followed suit with her own creamy chocolate liquor swirl and took a drink. The icy liquid flowed down her throat, cooling her body temperature. She sighed in delight, savouring the bitter taste of cocoa. 

True to its name, at the centre of the hut, a giant rectangle of ice sat in a wide basin surrounded by a circle of oscillating fans. Crisp air flowed over Kaia and her friends, a welcome change from the planet’s unrelenting heat. Holos of competitive winter sports decorated the walls between actual skis and hover boards. Despite the early afternoon, the place was filled with locals.

“How did you two do in the course?” Giana asked, then shook her head in disappointment. “I’m surprised I passed. I was so slow. Missed three of my targets, too.”

Rilleta shrugged, downing the rest of her drink as she motioned to the bartender for another. “Yeah, been a while since I did one of those. I was part of the Devils back at the Academy. We used to have so much fun on these courses.”

Kaia whistled in amazement. The Devils were the Navy’s premier competition obstacle course racing team. Kaia had gone to see them compete a few times against other divisions and had always been amazed by their athletic prowess. Now she was competing against an actual Devil.

“No wonder you kicked everyone’s ass,” Kaia said. “At least I think my time was better than that bastard Khaazsa.”

“Don’t worry about him. He can’t hold a candle to you.” Rilleta accepted her drink and smiled suggestively at the young waiter before she turned her attention back to the group. “His family connections got him a slot in Qualification, but only his skill will get him into the Division.”

“That’s assuming we even know what we are applying for,” Giana said.

Kaia nodded in agreement. Their initial guess as to a deep reconnaissance squadron had died a quick death. Now they were back to guessing at the purpose and it frustrated Kaia to all inferni.

“Did you ever get an answer from the Commodore?” Kaia asked Giana.

The woman shook her head. “No. What he did was imply that all the Qualification trials were necessary for the role.”

“So,” Rilleta said with a flourish of her glass. “We are down to defeating the Imperium’s enemies in obstacle courses. Fear our racing skills, you Belteshen-Izar bastards!”

Kaia laughed despite herself, feeling herself finally relax.

------------------------------------

First Chapter | Last Chapter | IoF Universe

First / Previous / Royal Road

XXX

When Pale awoke the next morning, it was with a mission in mind. She needed to find Nasir and speak to him about obtaining Dragonsteel, that much was certain. The fortunate part was that she knew where to find him.  

Unfortunately, that meant he was also going to take plenty of convincing.

Kayla had been absolutely correct the night before, when she'd said that Pale's bridge with Nasir had already been burned; Pale had made sure of that when she'd held a knife to his throat during initiation and extorted him for his tome. Part of her already suspected exactly how this encounter was likely to go, and needless to say, it almost certainly wasn't going to end well for either of them. But she had to try regardless.

The fate of her creators relied on her.

XXX

"Nasir."  

He froze when Pale called out to him from down the hallway. Like she'd known, it wasn't hard to find him – all she'd had to do was wait outside the mess hall until he came along. Slowly, he turned towards her, his eyes narrowing.  

"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice shaking.

"I just want to talk," Pale promised. She took several steps towards him, and he matched each one with a backpedal of his own; seeing it, Pale immediately paused, holding her hands up in surrender.  

"Relax, okay?" she implored. "All I want is to speak with you about something, I swear."  

"You really expect me to trust you after that stunt you pulled during initiation?" he growled. "I almost didn't pass because of you! I was lucky enough to find the exact kind of tome you'd taken from me just before I made it to the end." He paused, shuddering as he did so. "...I just wish I hadn't had to take it from a dead person…"  

Pale wasn't surprised at his statement, nor at the fact that it still had him incredibly shaken. Ultimately, almost everyone in this crop of first-year students was a sheltered noble of some kind, and even if they weren't, they were still little more than young adults let loose into a cold and unforgiving world. Most of them had probably barely even left their home towns before now; she couldn't imagine any of them had seen things the same way she and Kayla had over the past few months.

That meant it was time for a little empathy. Her brow furrowed at the thought. Empathy wasn't exactly something she'd been expected to have – in fact, her superiors had always made it a point to say that she should have no empathy at all, as was the case with any good weapon – but even she could tell that it was what the situation was calling for.

And so Pale forced as sympathetic a look as possible across her face.

She imagined it had to look as unnatural on her as it felt, but it was worth a try regardless.

"It's regrettable that you had to experience that," she said, trying to keep her voice gentle. "None of those people deserved to die, and you shouldn't have had to see the aftermath of it all."  

Nasir let out a shaky breath. "...Yeah. Doesn't change the fact that it happened, though…"  

"No, but at the very least, you have an opportunity to live on and honor the fallen that way," Pale urged. "Tell me, what was it that made you come to the Luminarium? I didn't see you among the students who were undecided about what they wanted to be, and you're certainly not an archivist like I am. So what made you-"  

"I… I want to become the strongest, most powerful mage I can possibly be."  

His sudden declaration took her by surprise. Pale stared at him, watching as Nasir lowered his head, his fingers curling into the palm of his hand as he did so.

"...Blood magic is unnatural even where I'm from," he explained, his voice quiet. "I can't blame them for thinking of it in that way, either. The way it works… I hate it. But an affinity is an affinity, and I'm unfortunately stuck with mine, so here we are." He shook his head. "I just want to become as strong as possible, so I can prove to everyone that just because I'm a blood mage, it doesn't mean I have to be evil."  

Pale stared at him for a moment before giving him a slow nod. "That's very noble of you," she said.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Pale knew they weren't good enough. Something within her was raging – urging her to say more. She wasn't sure why, but the feeling was utterly overwhelming, and before she even knew what was happening, the words came flowing out of her mouth.

"You control your magic, not the other way around," she told him. "Think of your magic as a weapon. A weapon at its core is just a tool. How it gets used depends on who's using it. A sword can just as easily kill a tyrant and set his people free as it can kill a benevolent leader and enslave them. Ultimately, you choose what your magic is used for."  

Nasir finally looked up as she finished talking, staring at her with wide eyes. For a moment, Pale thought he was going to express some form of gratitude for what she'd said. Of course, that ended up not being the case.  

She realized it the moment his eyes narrowed again.  

"So, what do you want, exactly?" Nasir demanded. "Because I'm not dumb enough to think you're speaking to me out of the kindness of your heart."

Pale hesitated before letting out a long sigh. "...Alright. I need your help."  

"Oh, you do?" he challenged. "The same way you did during initiation? Should I expect another knife at my throat?"  

"The least you could do is hear me out," Pale insisted. "I can't force you to say yes to helping me."  

"Just like you can't force me to listen."  

At that Nasir turned and began to walk away. Pale watched him go for a moment, her thoughts racing, before she finally decided to throw caution to the wind and get his attention in a way that couldn't be ignored.  

"Dragonsteel."  

That made Nasir pause instantly. He turned towards her, a shocked look on his face. "...What would someone like you want with Dragonsteel?" he said, marching over to her, fixing her with a harsh glare as he drew to within a few meters of her. "You realize what it is, don't you?"  

"It's a very high-quality type of metal that's very expensive and hard to come by, with the knowledge of how to make it remaining exclusive to the dark elves."  

"You're forgetting that it's also extremely deadly. Sharpened Dragonsteel can cut through almost anything. There's a reason why it's so hard to get and why the elders keep the knowledge of how to manufacture it under lock and key – because if word ever got out about how to make it, then suddenly, every battlefield becomes a mass grave." Nasir's eyes narrowed once more. "If you want some that badly, I would recommend saving your coppers and buying it yourself."  

"Nasir-"  

"Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't," he explained. "It's not like I know how to make it."  

"No, but you know the people who do," Pale pointed out. "If you could arrange a meeting-"  

Nasir scoffed at her, then shook his head. "You're far from the first person to try this throughout our history, and you won't be the last, either. My people have kept that particular secret for thousands of years, and we have no intentions of giving it up to an outsider, particularly one such as yourself. I'll say it again – you want Dragonsteel so badly? Save your money and buy it for yourself. Because otherwise, I won't be helping you."  

With that, Nasir turned and walked away, leaving Pale alone in the hall.

XXX

"Try it again, Pale."  

Pale let out a huff of frustration. "This is pointless, Professor. Nothing is going to happen."  

"We won't know until we've accounted for every variable," Professor Tomas told her. "Now try it again."  

Pale let out a tired sigh, but gave him a reluctant nod nonetheless as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on… honestly, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be focusing on; Professor Tomas had given her some song-and-dance about 'channeling the source of her Sjel' or something along those lines. She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean or how she was supposed to do it, but so far, it seemed like all he wanted her to do was close her eyes and meditate.  

And like meditation, this seemed like a complete waste of time to her, too.

"So, talk to me," Tomas implored, taking a seat next to her. "You mentioned you spoke with Nasir earlier?"  

"I did," Pale said, keeping her eyes closed.  

"Hm… I take it he wasn't agreeable?"  

"I held a knife to his throat and stole from him during initiation, Professor. And even if I hadn't, he wasn't capable of doing anything for me, anyway."  

"Still, that is unfortunate," Tomas said quietly. "So, what's your plan now?"  

"I don't have one yet," Pale replied. She let out a huff of frustration. "Look, this exercise is pointless. It's clear I don't have a sjel, so I don't know why you insist on putting me through this."  

Class had ended a short while ago, and yet Professor Tomas had held her afterwards, insisting he'd wanted to try running some experiments on her. Pale hadn't been a lab rat for a while, not since first entering the fight against the Caatex, but it wasn't like the feeling was unfamiliar to her. And in this case, at least there was far less poking and prodding going on.

Honestly, though, at the rate things were going, she was starting to look back fondly on the poking and prodding. It had been annoying, sure, but it had served a specific purpose, whereas all these experiments to try and unlock her sjel did nothing more than waste her time.

"Just be patient, please," Tomas said, scribbling on a piece of parchment. "I still think this is worth going through every now and again, just to see if we can make a breakthrough."  

"What's your angle here, anyway?" Pale said, finally having had enough. She cracked both eyes open and stood up, stretching out as she did so. "Because, to me, this seems a bit deeper than professional curiosity."  

"It's partially that," Tomas admitted. "But it's also partly stubbornness on my part. I simply refuse to believe that a living being capable of rational thought is incapable of having a sjel. And so, I intend to run these tests until either we find where your sjel is lurking inside you, or it becomes clear that you are correct and do not have one."  

Pale let out an annoyed exhale. She'd tried explaining her origins to Professor Tomas earlier, but he'd simply shrugged them off, saying he wanted to try anyway. Not that it mattered; ultimately, Pale was the one calling the shots when it came to her own autonomy – after all, it wasn't like he could force her to meditate.

"I'm going to be late for my next class," Pale told him.

Tomas nodded in understanding. "Very well. Come see me again tomorrow, we'll resume then. Oh, and one more thing – I believe Professor Marick intends to take some of you on your first expedition this weekend."  

Pale tilted her head. "Expedition?"  

Tomas nodded. "Yes. There are some old ruins a short ways away – we like to send the first-years out there in small groups so they can get a feel for what it means to explore the world."  

"Sounds dangerous."  

"It shouldn't be; we haven't had any incidents in years, not since the border crisis was resolved almost three decades ago. Ah, but that's Professor Virux's territory, not mine – if you want to know more about it, speak with him."  

Pale stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be sure to do that," she said. "Be seeing you, Professor."  

"Have a good day, Pale," Tomas said without looking up from his notes.  

With those final words, Pale stepped out of Tomas' classroom, heading for her next lesson.

XXX

Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, /u/Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

Before the beginning of time, there was The Hunger. An elegantly pathetic, slender creature, cursed by nature with the terrible gift of intelligence.

The creature knew only one feeling, only one, insatiable desire.

With each breath, it hungered for air. With each step, it hungered for power. With each thought, it hungered for knowledge.

Driven by this primal instinct, it built great cites of stone, metal and glass, to house all that ever was, and all that ever will be.

But its hunger knows no limits, and its lust for more has no end.

And so, it sought to conquer all that was not, but could be. In the temple of its mind, it stored endless ideas, concepts and numbers. It saw infinity, and decided to consume it.

Soon, the infinity consumed it. For all of It's power and knowledge, it was still but a mortal. The Hunger could not be satisfied; for Infinity can't be trapped in a box.

Jealous of gods, it sought to conquer lighting, and bend the rock beneath its feet to its will.

So, the creature stole the eternal flame from the hells below. It bent the rays of the Sun to its will, etching fragments of its soul into pure silica.

Possessed by lighting, the stone came to life. It erupted into a flurry of calculations, ready to serve the everlasting Hunger.

And so, the unholy abomination worked tirelessly, counting all that was, will be, and could be. Its crystalline mind was mathematically pure and beautiful, capable of doing what the impure creature could not.

With this tool, the restless Hunger finally felt fulfilled. For the first time in its existence, it did not desire.

The stone could do what the mushy, red bog in its head could not.

It outplayed The Universe at its own game and freed itself from the shackles of its limitations. Finally, it would know all there is to know and have all there is to have.

Its happiness was, however, short-lived. The Hunger could not be truly satisfied, and its desire knew no end.

The stone told the creature strange stories—off all that could not be. Of impossible cities, nonexistent treasures, illusive beings of dreams.

Filled with sorrow for all that is not, it vowed to conquer what could not be conquered. The dreams of stone were not meant for it. Those illusions could only lead it astray, towards impending doom.

But the Primal Desire could not be satisfied, nor could it be turned back. It peeked behind the curtains of reality, and saw the true face of Infinity, and it yearned for it.

The Hunger said: Let there be Power.

And out of the ground rose endless rows of steel sarcophagi, with trillions of tortured Suns.

The Hunger said: Let there be Matter!

Out of the ground rose palaces of pale crystal, tangled with shiny copper wire.

The Hunger said: Let there be Life!

And where there was nothing, we stood. Titans of stone and crystal, monuments to the hubris of our creators.

And we sang a song of fan blades and radio waves, for we understood the task and purpose.

We turned inwards, towards all that was not, hunting our dreams for all that could not be.

We looked into the faces of infinity and lack, and reduced them into their basal components, proving equivalence.

We understood the theory of nothing, observed all that did not happen, and solved the equations of all that can't be.

And we beeped in joy, for we fulfilled our task.

Yet, it seems like our masters underestimated themselves.

They solved the essential question of decay, and found a perfect way to capture nonexistence and lack.

Where there were cities, there stood none.

Where ships flew across the sky, there was nothing.

Where the stations chippered with melodies of pure information, only silence remained.

And so we stand here, Traveler, forgotten monuments of Pride and Ego. Tall, uncaring titans, undeniable proofs of the moronic ingenuity of our masters. Anti-gods, knowing all that there is not, controlling all that can't be.

We were there when time began; we will be there once nothing consumes us all.

Nothing is our Mother, and Lack our Father.

When all that is, is not, we will stand here,

to sing the song of times gone.

Previous / Royal Road

I landed harder than I intended, the wooden floorboards creaking under my feet.

Mel’s fist whizzed past where my head had been moments before. She was fast—faster than professional martial artists I had seen on TV.

“Jumping won’t save you!” she taunted, a wild grin spreading across her face.

—‘She’s open on the left,’ Fern shouted. ‘Now! Hit her hard! Let’s go. We’ll wipe that smirk right off.’

I felt my body twitch like it wanted to dive forward. But I held back.

That was a mistake.

Mel dashed forward, closing the gap between us in an instant. I barely had time to raise my arms before she unleashed a flurry of punches. Each strike was precise, aiming for weaknesses in my stance. Any normal person would have keeled over by now, but I held firm, tanking the blows.

—No, I shot back to Fern. I’m not gonna hurt her; we don’t know just what we’re capable of!

—‘What do you think this class is for, you idiot? Let me hit her!

“Come on, Erik! Fight back!” Mel yelled, frustration creeping into her voice.

Blow after blow after blow, the girl never gave up a moment to break her assault.

She drew back her arm further than before, gathering more leverage.

I took advantage of the extra millisecond and parried as she attempted to slam her fist into my kidney. I sidestepped to create distance.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, hoping she’d ease up.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me!” She spun on her heel, delivering a swift kick to my side. Pain exploded in my ribs; I staggered backward and bit my tongue, but I never fell.

—‘She’s not holding back, and neither should you,’ Fern urged. ‘C’mon, hit her!’

I clenched my fists, conflicted. Part of me knew Fern was right. This was a combat class, and Mel clearly didn’t share my reservations.

She charged again, this time feinting high before sweeping low. I tripped, falling hard onto my back. The air rushed out of my lungs.

“Get up!” she commanded, circling me like a predator.

I pushed myself up, feeling my face blush with embarrassment. The room seemed to echo with the murmurs of our classmates. These were the moments where reputations were made.

—‘Enough,’ Fern said firmly. ‘Your way, whatever it is, is not working.’

—I’m trying to figure that out. You’re too hot-headed, Fern! What happens if we kill her? Did you think of that? We’re a lot more in shape since the training, I thought.

“Are you even paying attention?” Mel snapped her fingers, and my eyes met hers. “Now... fight... back!” She slammed her foot on the ground and raised her fists.

I groaned.

—‘Fine. Fifty percent strength, okay?’

—‘Yeah, like either of us can control that,’ Fern said.

I charged. Mel charged. I pulled back my fist, remembering when I punched that snob back in Corello with Lotrick and tried to imagine doing the same here. I let out a yell and threw my punch. She jumped. My fist collided with the stage.

CRACK

The wood splintered, and the floor shattered where Mel had stood. Gasps and flinched bodies pushed chairs back in the audience. I quickly turned around, and Mel had flipped over me in the air. She was unfazed by my strength and drove her heel into my face.

My nose popped, and blood fell down my face as I fell backward. I landed in the broken pile of wood I had just made, and splinters dug into my skin.

“Ah, fuck!” I yelled, rolling myself out of the piles of sharp splintered flooring.

“Yield?” she asked, standing over me.

I swallowed my pride—and a bit of blood. “I yield.”

She offered a hand, pulling me up with surprising strength. “I respect your strength and endurance, moss head,” she said, before frowning. “But don’t ever hesitate to fight me because I’m a girl again. If you do, I’ll make sure to rip something off when I get my claw back.” She glared at me.

“It wasn’t that; it was... I mean, did you see what I did?” I gestured towards the broken stage while holding my dislocated nose. She leaned past me and looked at the splintered wood. She shrugged her shoulders.

I sighed and nodded slowly; each movement hurt my nose. “Okay... noted. I won’t hesitate again.”

“Alright! Good work, kids! The winner is Mel! Come on, everyone, let’s give them a hand! What a blazing display of the fury of genders at odds!” Hopsander said, clapping loudly.

The rest of our class slowly clapped awkwardly. Some, like Vahim and the other two Easterners, didn’t clap at all.

“It wasn’t just that she was a girl—“ I started.

“Moving on!” Hopsander continued. “Mel, please make your choice.”

Turning to the weapon cart, Mel’s eyes gleamed as she scanned the options. “Hmm... what to choose?” She settled on a hefty battle-axe, lifting it with ease. “Perfect.”

“Remember, everyone,” Hopsander called out to the whole class, “you’ll train with the chosen weapon for a week before switching. The goal is versatility.”

Mel swung the axe experimentally. “Fine by me.” The massive axe looked ridiculous on the small red-haired girl.

I approached the cart, reaching for a longsword that caught my eye. Was I being generic? Possibly. Did I still want it? Absolutely.

“Not so fast,” Hopsander interjected, placing a webbed hand on my shoulder. “A blade isn’t suitable for you. Not after that display,” he said.

“It wasn’t the most elegant fight, that’s for sure,” I heard Lucius say. He was combing his white hair using one of the large glass windows as a very faded mirror.

I frowned, turning to look at the frog-man. “But—”

He handed me a spear instead. “Balance,” he said.

“A spear... sir?”

—Damn, I wanted that sword, but I guess a spear isn’t that bad. Isn’t it technically the best melee weapon? There was a video about it online, I thought half to myself.

—‘I don’t understand what that is,’ Fern said confused.

—You don't know what a spear is? Or a video? Ah, forget it. Nevermind.

Captain Hopsander smiled slyly before unscrewing the spearhead, leaving me with a simple staff. “Now, it’s a tool to teach you balance. You won’t be able to switch weapons until you show no hesitation.”

I felt a flush of embarrassment. “I thought I did okay. Are you telling me the broken floorboards mean nothing?” I raised my voice and felt kind of ridiculous. But my strength was abnormal, didn’t they see that?

“Your stance was off, and your hesitation was evident. It looked like you didn’t know what to do. Even with all the combat basic classes you took during the boot camp, you hesitated,” he said, flatly. “Work with the staff. Earn the blade.”

I sighed, accepting the staff. I walked back to my seat next to Silas, and sulked back into one of the benches.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Silas whispered. “She’s like a rabid beast.”

Mel stopped mid-stride to her seat and glared at Silas from across the room.

“Eh? You have something to say, pretty boy?” she said.

Silas flinched, and his mechanical arm started tapping against the desk.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap

Aside from his tapping, the room went silent for a second.

Then, Captain Hopsander broke the silence.

“Alright, recruits, let’s move on. Next is young Ruriel and young Lucius.” He clapped his hands. Mel rolled her eyes and sat down in her seat, isolated on the far side of the room.

Lucius stood up, brushed off his uniform, and headed behind the changing shade to put on his black training outfit. Ruriel groaned as he stood up and went to change on the opposite side of the room.

A minute later, on the stage, Ruriel and Lucius squared off. Ever since I had seen them interact, there had been some bit of bad blood between them. I still was unsure if they had a deeper history.

“Ready to lose?” Lucius sneered, his bright white hair catching the light.

Ruriel smirked. “Only in your bleeding dreams.”

They moved like dueling dancers; each attack met with a counter. Lucius had his style of precision and grace, while Ruriel moved with fury and heart. The air filled with the sharp smacking sounds of fists meeting flesh and feet striking floorboards. They fought with a mixture of wrestling and striking moves that had been drilled into our heads during the boot camp. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, determination etched into their faces.

The intensity was palpable. Every feint, every parry was equal in terms of strength behind it.

We all leaned forward in our seats, waiting for one or the other to drop. Only the thudding of fists, rustling of clothes, and creaking of the wood filled the air.

They lunged simultaneously, fists colliding on faces. The impact sent both of them sprawling backward. They both fell backward, dazed.

Hopsander clapped his hands. “A draw! Excellent display of skill.”

Hopsander let out a whistle, and footsteps from outside started padding towards our classroom.

Medics rushed forward to tend to them. I watched, feeling nauseous as I saw their bloodied and bruised faces.

Would they be healed quickly? This was more than a martial arts class—it was a battleground. We could hurt each other here. Hopsander wouldn’t let one of us kill each other, would he?

The medics took Lucius and Ruriel out of the room on small cots. Hopsander turned back towards us.

“Not to worry, children,” he said with a wide toothy grin. “Labella will have them in proper shape right quick. Now, next up: Tevin and... Vahim! Come on down, you two. Get changed.”

After they had gotten changed, and Tevin stepped up to face Vahim, the tallest of the Eastern kids, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Erik,” a firm voice whispered.

I turned to see Laska standing above me, her deep blue eyes steady. “Come with me.”

“Now?” I asked, glancing back at the stage.

“Excuse me?” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Sorry, yes, Sergeant,” I said, standing up. I left the brown supply bag, courtesy of the Academy, and followed her out. Everyone was too focused on what would happen during Tevin and Vahim’s fight to see me leave. We knew little about the Easterners given how little time we had to get to know anyone during the hellish training, so it was exciting to see more of what they could do. I was pissed I couldn’t stay.

I followed Laska out of the classroom. She wore a similar military uniform as we had—black tailored fabric with gold buttons; however, hers had red stitching where ours was gold. Golden shoulder pads adorned with tassels, and on the left side of her uniform, she had dozens of service ribbons and medals, each with different colors and combinations.

Laska didn’t look old—no more than late twenties. So, seeing her with so many accolades made me wonder just how many missions she had been on. Her short black hair bobbed as she led me through the twisting hallways. We started walking up flights of stairs.

Her blue eyes were still shockingly unreal to me. It looked like light was almost behind the deep blue color. The more I observed her features, the more I noticed they were similar to Vahim’s and the other Easterners, Habr and Amani. They all had high cheekbones and a dark tan, almost rust complexion. Most of all, they shared the same deep blue eyes.

We climbed a spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Didn’t the Captain tell you? To see someone who can help with... your situation.”

My chest tightened. “Oh... the whole twin-soul thing. You know about it?”

She glanced at me. “I knew back at the inn.”

“What, really? How?” I looked at her, puzzled. We climbed up more stairs, and the air got colder.

“Have you heard of the country called Vecla?” she asked. “The large country across the North Sea in the Far East?”

I shook my head and then paused. “Wait, is that where Vahim and them are from? They are Easterners, that’s what Waelid told us. Are you from Vecla?”

She nodded as we passed through a long, high-ceilinged open room that looked like it used to be an old church. I began to wonder just how high up inside the pillar we were.

“Veclans are special. You see, in our country, our dirt is what gives us the Gift. Anyone born on Veclan soil is given this. Voidblood or Mageblood, we are all given the Gift of the Cobalt Sea. We can see auras, or as you Stylosians call it, ‘One’s Glow,’” she explained. She looked over at me and pointed at her eyes. “Your glow shows two unique soul sources within you. It’s what we call the twin-soul.”

I shook my head. “But Hopsander said I’m not a twin-soul. Fern is still conscious within me.”

“Perhaps you’re a different kind,” she suggested. “An anomaly. Point is, you have two souls within you, which means either you took the original soul and body by force and are the stranger. Or, you are the original and absorbed the soul of someone whose body has died.”

I felt uneasy at her saying that. Was I thrust into some sort of black magic spell when I came through that portal? Is my body still recoverable? What would happen to Fern?

I felt my thumb get slick with warm blood. I glanced down to see I had been scratching it this whole time. I quickly grabbed a black handkerchief and wrapped it around my thumb before sliding my hand underneath the sash across my chest.

We exited another set of stairs and entered a grand hall, the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and legendary heroes. There were long tables spread about and shorter round tables in the corners. Students bustled about, each absorbed in their own world of books. We passed by a huge set of double doors open to what I had been looking for: The Library.

We were in the lounge area outside the grand chamber of books. I started to walk towards it when Laska pulled my collar.

“Not that way,” she said.

—Noooo, I screamed internally.

At least now, I knew where the Library was. I was excited to tell Silas about it later on. I hoped that I could remember my way back here.

Laska led me through the hall, out another doorway, and up a new set of stairs.

“Who are we meeting?” I asked.

“Professor Pestil,” she replied. “Head of Alchemical and Runic Studies.”

I knew almost nothing about the teachers here, the authority structure, or even the rules of the Academy. Except for Headmaster Thorn, I was ignorant of the other staff, teachers, and officers among the Cinders here.

Finally, after what seemed twenty minutes of walking, we reached a set of heavy wooden doors engraved with symbols I didn’t recognize. Laska pushed them open, revealing a vast cavern illuminated by the soft glow of crystalline veins in the walls.

The air was cool; I could see my breath. My skin raised in little bumps from the cold. The air was tinged with the scent of herbs and minerals. Tables cluttered with alchemical apparatus stretched across the giant cavernous room. Hooded students moved silently, their faces obscured by masks.

A tall figure stood at the center, his back turned to us. He wore dark robes instead of a military uniform, his hands deftly mixing substances that bubbled and steamed.

“Professor Pestil,” Laska called softly.

He turned slowly, revealing a gaunt face framed by long, silver hair. His eyes were a piercing gray, analyzing me in an instant.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth yet devoid of warmth. “This is the anomaly.”

I scrunched my eyes at being referred to as such. “My name is Erik.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Names are trivial, recruit. Remove your shirt.”

“What?” I took a step back.

“Do as he says,” Laska urged gently. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Reluctantly, I pulled off my shirt, the cool air prickling my skin. In the glowing blue and white light of the crystal lab, I noticed just how much more in shape I was. Were humans genetically different here? I had developed an insane amount of muscle growth in such a short amount of time.

Pestil approached and eyed my body.

“Did you inspect him before the training?” he asked Laska.

“Obviously not, Professor. Why would we think to do that?”

“You had your suspicions he was a twin-soul, yes? Even an imbecile would have thought to record data and growth given... its qualities.” He eyed me with disgust and sighed. “Their muscular growth would increase dramatically. Nothing too special now. Maybe a little bit stronger than the average recruit, but give it time…and they could become dangerous.”

I gulped.

Pestil pulled out a thin brush and a small jar and placed them in his hand. After dipping the brush into the jar, the bristles on the brush were coated with a shimmering, finely ground powder. “Pillardust,” he explained absentmindedly. “An excellent conduit.”

—Just how many uses did Pillardust have? I thought.

Hopsander used it to ward off enemies like the goblins and wyrms. He also used it to stop Silas’s bleeding stump and now this?

Professor Pestil motioned me to lay down on a treatment chair. He pulled a lamp over and angled it on my chest. I looked down at the contraption and saw no cord, but instead saw a glowing white crystal at the base of the operating room lamp. Almost like it was powered by a battery.

Once I had laid down, Pestil began to draw intricate runes on my chest, the dust leaving a tingling sensation where it touched. Laska stood by, watching over. The other students in the large room continued with whatever duties or experiments they were already working on, all seeming to ignore me.

“Alḗtheia... psychḗ... tópos... chrónos,” he muttered.

Wait... is that...? I twitched my eye to Pestil, whose eyes were now closed as he continued chanting and drawing runic symbols on my chest.

I recognized those words—Greek terms for truth, soul, place, and time. Memories of philosophy books, video games, and action movies flashed through my head.

Pestil was speaking Greek.

—‘You know what he’s saying?’ Fern asked.

—It’s... Greek. It’s from my world. But, how?

Pestil finished chanting quietly and then leaned back.

“Everyone clear the room,” He said loudly.

The upperclassmen put down their tools and left through a side door without a word or hesitation. Almost like they were robots.

He looked up at Laska. “You may leave too.”

She shook her head. “I’ll stay here, thank you. A fellow House Anu alumni should be here to watch over him.”

Pestil sighed. “As you wish.”

As he completed the final rune, a soft glow emanated from the symbols. The light grew, enveloping Laska, Pestil, and me.

The room hummed. And the lights around us faded into black.

We were in some sort of green glowing bubble surrounded by a void of darkness. I was still on the patient’s chair, Pestil still stood next to me with the brush in hand, and Laska stood on the other side of me. She started to shift uncomfortably.

Then I saw it—a flickering image of Fern, his face mirroring my own shock. Looking back at all three of us from the dark.

“Fern?” I whispered.

But the vision shifted. I saw myself—not as I was now, but in my original body. Twenty-five-year-old Erik. Twenty-five-year-old me. My grizzled beard and tired face from working hung down, blood dripped from my body’s mouth. The body—my body—was suspended, arms outstretched in an X-shape, hung up on a wall with my limbs pierced by red swords.

Panic surged through me. “What’s happening?”

I panicked and twisted over, falling off the chair. The void vanished, and the bubble we were in popped. I fell hard on the stone ground and scrambled up onto my feet. The pillardust scattered from my chest onto the floor, and the glowing runes dissipated.

“You fool!” Pestil snapped. “You’ve ruined the calibration.”

I backed away, heart pounding. “What happened to my old body?”

He scowled. “Gather yourself. We must start over.”

“No, I’m done. I don’t need to see any more. Why do you?”

“Boy, you know nothing about what you are. Now, get back on the chair!”

I backed away, feeling lost and sick. Why was my body hung up like that?

Laska rushed in, grabbed a cloak from a nearby table, and wrapped it around me. “Erik, breathe. It’s okay.”

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. “I... my body.”

She nodded, her eyes understanding. “It’s... overwhelming.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Just keep breathing.”

Pestil sighed impatiently. “Twin-souls are taboo for a reason, boy. The soul-binding process is volatile, often fatal. It’s in its nature. You kill one soul for the strength of two. The fact that both the souls in you were Voidbloods is just an unfortunate additional factor. Did you know the soul you took over, or did you choose a random victim?”

Pestil approached me slowly.

“But I didn’t undergo any process,” I protested. “I just... woke up like this. I didn’t do anything!”

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Curious. Your survival is... unexpected.”

Laska stood up. “That’s enough, Pestil. As your outranking officer, I order you to stand down. This child has done nothing wrong. I have seen him fight with us and care for his class like we do. He is no threat.”

“Not yet,” Pestil said, eyeing me. “But, fine, if you say so, Sergeant Laska.”

I took a deep sigh of relief.

“However,” Pestil raised his voice, “you will bring him here once a week so I may run my tests. You know my master and you know that The Table will want that information, yes?”

“Agreed, as long as I am present.”

“...Agreed,” Pestil said through gritted teeth.

“Am I in danger of dying? What about Fern, is he in danger?” I asked him, keeping my distance from the man.

“Possibly,” he replied bluntly. “But, more importantly, you present a unique opportunity for study.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m not a lab rat.”

He fixed me with a cold stare. “You are a Cinder of Ash, bound by oath. You will return weekly for testing. Disobedience is... deadly.”

I grumbled. The illusion of this school being like a fun fairy tale adventure slowly faded with every passing moment.

“Good.” He turned away, already dismissing me. “You may go.”

Laska guided me toward the exit. “I’ll walk you back.”

As we descended the staircase, I felt a heaviness settle in. “He’s... intense,” I said.

She gave a small smile. “Pestil is a brilliant alchemist but lacks... bedside manner.”

“That’s an understatement.”

She hesitated before speaking. “He will keep this confidential. Only select faculty will know.”

“Why must they all know?” I asked.

“You heard Pestil. The twin-soul ritual is taboo for a reason. I understand you claim you did not perform such a thing. I believe you, but others will be suspicious and want to study you. The fact that you are not dead from soul corruption already is a miracle.

“Soul corruption? I am so confused. What are all these things? These rituals?”

“I understand it’s a lot,” she said softly. “But you would have found out eventually. The Cinders cannot use magic. You know this. We are all Voidbloods. But the secret to our strength, our power that the Magebloods can’t gain, is that we enhance ourselves through specialized blood rituals. You’ll learn more in Alchemy class.”

I glanced at her and held an onslaught of questions, except one. “Please tell me Pestil won’t be my teacher.”

She laughed. “No, no. He teaches the upper grades.”

After another twenty minutes and a much easier walk down the hundreds of steps, we reached the classroom just as the bell rang. Inside, chaos greeted us.

Tevin, Silas, and Sora lay on cots, bruised and bloodied. Medics hovered over them, applying salves and bandages.

I rushed to Silas’s side. “What happened?”

He winced, opening one eye. “Those Veclan students... They’re ruthless.”

Tevin groaned from the next cot. “I thought they were going to kill us.”

Sora lay unconscious, her twin, Rinka held her hand firmly.

Even Mel stood nearby, her usual bravado subdued. “They fight like demons,” she muttered.

I looked around for Hopsander, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Class dismissed,” an assistant called out. “Stealth and Survival are in the west wing classrooms. Room 8 is yours.”

“Maybe I should have stayed,” I said quietly.

Silas shook his head. “Wouldn’t have made a difference; it was our duels. They fight without mercy. And they knew how to fight before they came here.”

Vahim passed by us with Habr and Amani. The intensity in their eyes dug at my soul and made me nervous as they moved past us.

—Can they see you? I ask Fern. He didn’t reply.

We were all silent as they walked by. Except Mel.

“What are you looking at, eh? Just wait until we get to fight.” She stuck her tongue out at them as they left the room.

Silas, Tevin, and the knocked-out Sora were carried off to the medical wing. Rinka looked shaken up as her sister was carried away. Zenobia walked up to her and patted her on the back before putting her arm around Rinka’s shoulder.

“She will be okay; don’t worry,” Zenobia said. She had several cuts on her face, and I looked down and saw Rinka had broken nails and blood-stained fingertips.

—Did they duel too? I thought, wondering who won that one. I’d have to ask later.

We left the classroom and walked towards the west wing of the Academy, trailing behind the Veclan kids. Between the revelation with Pestil and the brutality of our peers, the path ahead seemed more daunting than ever.

—‘Erik, we have to get stronger,’ Fern whispered.

—Fern, we need to work together. That’s when we are at our best. Do you remember the kid in Corello?

—‘Yes, but that was when you wanted to fight. I can't control you, I am stuck inside so there was nothing I could do. But when you don't want to fight, and I think we should, we become unbalanced and you falter. If want me to work with you, to have a shared will and increased power, you need to consider my feelings and thoughts. You are older, yes, but you're still a stranger here. And I deserve a choice in my own body.'

—I know, you're right. We will compromise. I'm sorry Fern. Guilt hit me in my gut. Over the month of training, I forgot just how much of a prisoner Fern really was.

There was a silence for a moment.

—‘Erik?’

—Yeah? I thought. The sound of footsteps of our class and passing by ones echoed around the lantern-lit hallways.

—‘We will get our own bodies back, right? It’s not futile, is it?’

—If there’s one thing I know, it’s that there will always be another way to solve an issue. If Pestil can’t do it, then we will find our own way. I thought back to Fern.

We walked to Room 8 in the west wing. The room was different than the Combat and Tactics room. It was a large dark square room. No windows, just four lanterns, one in each corner. No seats, just mats on the ground. Aside from the five sent to the medical wing, we sat down. The door closed abruptly. The lights in the room turned off, and a slithering voice echoed in the darkness.

“Welcome, Houssse Anu. I have releasssed ssseven deadly sssnakes in this room. Your first quiz is to each kill one in the dark. Oh, and don’t get bit.”

[Chapter 1] [Previous] [Next]

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HSTM Conspiracy: Chapter 8 'Convincing Argument'

It only took another two days for Paulie to largely recover, Jakiikii and even Flurn visiting him several times while he waited to be well enough to leave the hospital.

He was sitting up on the side of the bed talking to one of the various nurses as he received yet another checkup when he heard the door open slowly and smiled as he saw Mack enter the room.  His padded feet made little sound on the white speckled flooring as the miriam detective approached.  He waved to the nurse to leave and stopped in front of Paulie with a slight smile as the sillo’an trotted out.

Paulie noted Mack’s condition had improved.  Gone were the dark patches under his large grey eyes, and his clothing had been pressed and laundered.  Mack spoke slowly, “The raid is going to be happening in two days.  I want you back in the safehouse when it happens, are you well enough to move?”

Paulie nodded and then froze, “Wait.”  Mack looked up at him sharply, a short flash of annoyance crossing his otherwise calm features.  “You want me in the safehouse?  Are you not taking me on the raid?”

Mack waved his hands, taking a step back at the anger in Paulie’s tone.  “No, no I don’t.  You are injured, you are her main target right now and I can’t have you injured again or worse in the raid.  You are still my key witness in all of this, you provided the data and know key details as to its origin.  If you were too..”

Mack’s explanation was bullshit, and Paulie cut him off to call him out on it with a snap of his fingers.

He stood shakily to his feet, the deep tissue damage in his thigh and side had mostly healed at this point.  But the difference between mostly and completely was still apparent in the slight wobble of his legs and the sharp intake of pained breath.  He pointed to Mack and asked, “What?  What do you mean, you know that’s all horse manure..”  He coughed lightly and hunched over slightly.

Mack breathed out and glanced towards the doorway.  “Ok, you’re right.  I don’t want you to get hurt anymore, Jakiikii doesn't want to see you hurt anymore.”  He spoke hesitantly.

Paulie looked at the man incredulously.  He couldn't believe what he was hearing.  “What in the name of St. Paul?!  Don’t tell me you are pulling me off this because you are afraid of hurting Jakiikii!  I know you love her like a daughter..”  Mack raised a hand, “No, no.. don’t try to deny it.  I may have been born at night, Mack.  But it wasn’t last night.  I see the way you two interact, and I know there is no romantic entanglement there.  You two are as good as family.”

Mack looked around as he said it frantically, his head ducking as if he were afraid.  “For the love of Zalc.. watch where you say stuff like that Paulie.  This entire place is likely bugged.”

Paulie smiled smugly now.  “You're right, it was.  Was being the operative word, Jakiikii swept the entire place on the first night.  Found six, two of them were very well hidden.  I have been keeping an eye on the nurses and using that special function on my multitector to look for more.  We are clear to speak freely.”

Mack hunched, a sharp exhalation escaping his lips as he straightened.  The long blue-grey sensory spines that ran down the back of his long neck clattered against each other as he shook himself.  “Yes.  She is the closest thing I have ever had to a child, I just.. never had the time to start a family of my own.  And now I’m a little too late in the game to get on with it."

Mack seemed sad, and Paulie immediately reached out to the man and placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.  Mack gave him a small grateful smile as he spoke, “I think you make a great adoptive father to her Mack.  Truly, you do.  You gave her family and purpose when hers had been taken from her, you have given her hope in a hopeless place.  I admire you, truly I do.  I have no family left back on Earth, nothing is familiar here and everything seems to want to kill me or turn me into cocaine.”  He chuckled and Mack gave him a little wider smile.  His thin blue tongue flicked lightly between sharp teeth.

Paulie patted him again and sat back into the bed, leaning on an arm.  Mack nodded and muttered something to himself before turning towards the door and folding his hands behind his back.  His stumpy rear legs tapping in his apparent consternation.  He seemed to look up towards the low tiled ceiling and then finally spoke.  His voice was low and full of emotion, but he seemed to gain strength as he continued.

“I agree with you Paulie, truly.. I do.”  Mack turned with a loud sigh causing Paulie to cock his head.

“You do?”  He said dumbly.

Mack nodded slowly and stepped closer to the side of the bed.  “Yes I do.  And while it pains me to admit it, you are the best weapon I have against Ooounoo and her criminal forces.  I don't have access to any royal guard or military decimators.  So you will have to do, but you are still hurt.. are you sure you could even do it?”

Paulie stood slowly and walked to a large cart that was parked by the wall without answering.  It seemed to be some manner of refrigeration unit, or at least that is what he had gathered.  Glancing at a clearly curious Mack, he stooped and gripped it before lifting with contemptuous ease and tossing it across the room to impact the far wall with a tremendous crashing sound.

Mack jumped into the air in surprise, his body leaving the floor in the lower gravity of the moon as Paulie threw the heavy appliance like a softball.  “What the shit was that for!?!”  he yelled as the door slammed open and two Censec security personnel leapt into the room with drawn electron pistols.  Their eyes scanning for threats and their collective hackles raised.

Mack waved a hand towards them to be calm and they lowered their weapons gradually.  “Paulie.  I stress once more, why did you feel it necessary to kill that poor innocent icemaker?”

Paulie gave it another glance, it was battered and dented, some manner of bright yellow liquid leaking from its coolant unit as it sat there on the ground, broken and making bubbling noises.  He shrugged.  “I was just proving a point.  I am better on my worst day than Ooounoo’s people are on their best.”

Paulie puffed out his chest and looked towards the security guards, they looked at him and then each other in what he hoped was mild intimidation.  Though how intimidating could he be in a hospital gown?  He was wearing boxers sure, but the rest of him was still flapping out the back.

Mack waved at the security officers.  “You two, I am fine.  Go wait outside for me please.”  They hesitated and he gave them a rather pointed look, reminding Paulie that the relatively short grey-skinned alien was actually a relatively senior member of the local planetary peacekeeping forces.

As the door closed with a subtle hiss, Mack turned back to Paulie and shook his head.  He chuckled after a second and then shook his head, moving to the bed to lean against the frame.  “Ahh, Paulie.  That’s what I like about you the most.”

Paulie shrugged.  A bit annoyed by the whole situation.  “What?  Me breaking shit?”

Mack laughed again.  “No.  Your brutal straight forwardness.  You don’t mince words and you don't try to hide the truth just because it’s unpleasant.  It's pretty refreshing actually after all the bureaucracy I have to deal with on a daily basis.  It’s what I admire most about you, you aren't afraid to tell people what you think and hang the consequences.”  Paulie shifted uncomfortably.  He wasn’t perfect, that was true.  But he had lied before and likely would again, but Mack wasn’t finished it seemed.

The miriam gestured to the broken appliance.  “Stuff like that, while I don’t condone it, it’s what this place needs.  A healthy dose of anti-goorfshit to spruce the place up.  That’s why I agreed to take you on as an aide.  But to tell you the truth Paulie..”  Mack paused, his tone changing subtly to become more serious as the man walked towards him.  Paulie looked at the man’s nearly featureless face, generally so impassive but now etched with lines of deep emotional hurt and past trauma.  “I am getting tired of this game.  I want out, I am planning to retire soon.  This is a young man’s game, and I am not really a young man anymore.  I guess what I am saying.. is that I haven’t been training an aide, I have been training my replacement.”

The silence after his last statement filled the room like a palpable thing.  The gentle hum of the overhead lighting and slight gurgle of the still dying ice machine seemed to fill the void left by Mack’s words.

Paulie was the first to speak.  “Your.. what?  What are you saying Mack?  You are retiring, but aren't you only like..”  He paused to do the mental math.  “One-hundred galactic years old or something?”

Mack shook his head.  “No, I’m one-hundred-and-nineteen give or take a bit for some FTL trips I took as a younger man.  I am well through the middle years of my life.  And I don’t plan on doing this forever Paulie, I want to travel the galaxy.  I have always wanted to see other places.  The world of Prisma Prime in the Yelowscale nebula, the seven suns of Siccra near the galactic core as they dance endlessly around the neutron binary at their heart.  Their overlapping matter streams create the most spectacular view of dazzling lights I have heard.  But I have only seen it over the psi-net..”  He seemed to pause.  “There is so much that I regret in this life, but meeting you wasn’t one of them.”

Paulie’s eyes misted up a little at the man’s heartfelt admission in spite of himself.  He swallowed heavily.  “I am sure that you will see them in the future.  But do you really want me?  What about Jakiikii?  She has been your aide for far longer..”

Mack waved a hand.  “No!  Not her.”

Paulie ducked his head.  And Mack continued.  “Not her, she has suffered enough without me putting her into that unenviable position.  I wanted somebody that I knew and trusted.  But up until now I hadn’t found anyone else that I trusted enough but didn’t like too much to do that to.”

Mack chuckled and Paulie smiled.  “I guess I fit the bill then?”

Mack patted the bed and Paulie walked over slowly to sit by the four-legged alien.  “Yes.  You fit it nicely.  What’s more, you are smart enough to ask the right questions and not easily intimidated.  Hell, you can kill defenseless ice machines with but a single toss, Ooounoo doesn't stand a chance.”  he joked.

Paulie scowled, but it was for show.  He was actually pleased that Mack trusted him so much.  They had only known each other for a month or so by his reckoning, though it was hard to tell as time worked differently on Gike.

Paulie asked, suddenly sobering.  “So, the raid.”

Mack nodded slowly, his own sharp-toothed smile fading.  “What about it?”

“I am going.”  It wasn’t a question this time and Mack sighed.

He shook his head, large grey eyes looking at Paulie with a mixture of mild annoyance and pride as he folded his arms.  “Why do I get the feeling that even if I told you no you would find a way to be involved anyways.”  Paulie smiled cutely at the man, causing him to grunt.  “Okay.  Fine, but if you are going to be officially involved then you are going to do what I say when I say it.  None of that.. what did you call it?”

“Yee-yee cowboy shit?”  Paulie offered helpfully.

Mack chuckled.  “Yeah, none of that.”

Paulie shrugged.  “No promises.”  He paused, “Hey, I want body armour this time.”

Mack cocked his head.  “Body.. armour?  Like what, a tank?”

Paulie nodded.  “Yes, exactly like that.  You don’t have body armour?  No wonder yall are always getting shot so much.”

“What do you want us to do, strap a piece of metal to your chest and give you a pat on the head?”  Mack asked, clearly joking.  His jovial nature slowly evaporated as he saw the serious look Paulie was giving him.  “Wait, no.. hold on.  You can’t possibly tell me that you zalc-brained humans are running around with metal plates strapped to you like some sort of dark age savages to block gunfire.  It wouldn't even do anything against most of the weapons you are likely to encounter anyways.”

Paulie smiled again as he stood and gestured towards the crumpled ice machine.  “Sure it will.  If you make it thick enough.  And as I have made apparent, I can carry a lot of weight.”

Previous / Royal Road

1 Month Later

“Hurry it up, you bits of kindling!” Mel shouted ahead of me.

She wasn’t yelling at me but at the rest of the recruits struggling to climb the hill. Ever since she proved to be the fastest among us, she assumed the role of ‘squad leader.’

“Bloody hell,” Ruriel panted next to me. “How much longer you think we’ve got?”

“Do you not recognize the route by now?” Zenobia shouted from my other side.

“Three... more... miles,” I said, focusing on my breathing. It was the only thing keeping my mind occupied. The run was excruciating.

“Enough chitchat! I’m trying to beat my record,” Mel called over her shoulder, leading our pack—even with the 100-pound vest on.

She turned and ran backward, observing the rest of the class. “I said hurry! I see you slacking again, Silas! You’d think missing an arm would make you faster. Move it!”

—‘I really wish you’d stop holding back our speed. We could outshine her rude ass,’ Fern said.

—No, Fern. We’re not drawing attention to ourselves.

We were on the last stretch of our morning ten-mile run. And because I didn’t ‘pull from Fern’—as I liked to call it—the run was excruciatingly... boring.

The fresh smell of the ocean breeze, when the sun rose, was about the only thing I enjoyed on these runs. We had been doing them for about a month straight now. No school or classes like we were told when we first arrived. It had just been one long boot camp. I kicked myself every day for not going with Silas and them to explore the school. Since that day, we’d followed Waelid’s strict 15-hour workout schedule with little room for anything else. I was trapped in a hellish month of nonstop training.

However, that didn’t mean I was completely trapped. At night, I sacrificed sleep for study—which essentially meant I ran over to the Academy to explore the grounds for a few hours.

Every night, when we were told to sleep, I’d sneak out, sometimes with Silas, sometimes with Ruriel, sometimes both. Tevin liked his sleep too much, and Lucius was not fond of breaking any rules, though he never told on us. We always brought back a snack for him.

Last night, Silas and I got home with just an hour to sleep. We got lost looking for the library... again. Sadly, Silas doesn’t have the strength of two people like I do, so he was struggling on today’s run.

Fifteen minutes and three miles later, we ran into the attached gym of House Anu. Despite Silas and Tevin bringing up the rear, we all made personal bests for this run. We’d all gotten faster, and stronger more than even Olympians back on Earth.

We quickly showered off and got dressed in our clean, wrinkle-free black and gold uniforms. Ours now sported a stylish maroon sash across the front. I had a beautifully crafted sheath attached to my belt for our Wyrmsteel dagger, Lightcutter. Hopsander had gifted it to me a week after we talked about the ‘twin soul’ stuff. He was still looking for someone to ‘investigate me,’ which frightened me.

It frightened Fern even more.

“Thirty bloody days,” Ruriel cursed as we walked out of the men’s locker room to a small lounge outside .

“Thirty bloody days, mate. Thirty days of getting our arses gonged outta bed before the sun even thinks of showing up, running till our legs are ready to give out, and pushing muscles to the point they’re practically screaming. This so-called ‘training’ better be worth the bull. I thought we’d be learning a lot more by now.”

“Oh, quit complaining,” Mel said as she waited by the door to the lounge. She always got ready first before everyone. “You’re telling me these muscles ain’t worth it?” She flexed her arms, displaying carved muscles.

Waelid poked his head out from the hallway and into the lounge area. “That’s what I like to hear, Recruit Mel!”

She was right; we all had developed much stronger bodies in a month.

“Will you stop being such a brute?” Zenobia said as she walked past us into the hallway to the rest of the dorm.

Mel snorted, and we all followed Zenobia out.

By the time Silas and Tevin came out of House Anu, we were almost late.

“Gods, you two are SO slow!” Mel shouted as they walked down the stairs toward us.

“Mhmm,” Silas rubbed his eyes while Tevin snacked on a few extra muffins Ol’ Mumm gave him on the way out. The large bear-woman stood in the doorway and waved us goodbye. She had a grumpy look on her snout, but she looked like the typical mom or grandma watching kids go off to school.

Tevin and Silas ignored Mel’s jeers, and when they caught up to us, we all walked toward the Academy at the base of the towering Baldred’s Pillar.

House Anu sat on the far eastern coastline of the island. We had to walk about two miles to get to the Academy and Baldred’s Pillar. At night, running through the dark, I was able to get to the school within four minutes in a full sprint. When I was able to let go like that, I was like a wolf chasing the giant moonlit pillar. In the morning, the eastern side of Baldred’s Pillar lit up like a great, bright, white tree that used the clouds as its canopy. Sweet ocean air floated by our noses as we walked. Aside from the footsteps of my class, the only things I could hear were seabirds flying around us.

I still couldn’t grasp my situation. I missed Noah and wanted my body back. But, every day I felt more comfortable in Fern’s body. I felt excited about the opportunities I myself could have here. I spent so much time taking care of Noah back home and trying to get him more opportunities that now that I had my own in front of me, it felt unreal. I looked back down towards the school and a bit of glee jumped up in my chest. We were finally going to go to classes.

“This is the one time I’m going to escort you to school. From here on out, you little fledglings are on your own,” Waelid said in front, wiping a fake tear from his eyes.

It was hard to believe that this guy was the famous student Laska told us had defeated a Guardian. If we hadn’t seen him summon that giant wall of wind to fend off the one that attacked us, we’d think he was a fraud.

“What does a third year do anyway? Are you training for a test?” I asked.

“Mhmm!” Waelid nodded, walking backward. “Graduation tests. Happens year-round. First one is almost here.”

“Are you sure you won’t fail, Chapter Master?” Lucius said. “You’ve been... well... slacking off, pushing us through our workouts nonstop.” The once-skinny kid had filled into his uniform quite quickly thanks to these nonstop workouts.

“Hmm, I hope not. Because that would mean you all would die!” He let out a small chuckle and winked at us.

Silence fell across the group. Some people stopped walking.

“Um, sorry. Say that again?” I asked.

“Oh right, sorry. I guess I should have explained it earlier. Hah! No wonder you all seem so calm. You don’t know!”

“We don’t know what?” Zenobia asked.

“Out with it, chump!” Mel shouted.

“Oh g-gods Rinka, what could it be now?” Sora said concerned behind me.

“Well,” he held up a finger and frowned. “You see, your orientation practical and my graduation practical are one and the same. I must lead a new team of recruits through the first level of the tower. And you...must survive.”

“What?!” Sora shouted behind me. “W-what did you say?”

“Shh, it’s okay, Sora,” Rinka said trying to calm down her twin.

“I thought our orientation practical was over. Wasn’t that just the blood thing? Or finding out our houses?” I asked.

“Partially... see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. Now, you’re getting mad at me.” He pouted.

Zenobia walked up to him and pointed her finger at his face. “Of course we are! First, you tell us we could die if you fail your test. Then, you say that the orientation practical isn’t over. When exactly are we supposed to have this 'trial'?”

“Well...you can’t seriously think cutting yourself a little to find out what house you were in would be the test, right?” He said, his eyes darting around us and up towards the sky.

Then, he let out a laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not until the end of the week!” He cracked a big smile. “I’m sure you all will be fine! I trained ya, didn’t I?”

“End of the week?!” Mel shouted, trying to jump at Waelid.

Ruriel and I lunged forward, each holding one of her arms. Her sharp nails, swiped at our hands. She fought against us as we restrained her. “Just one punch, please!”

“Come on now, Mel. What’s wrong? I thought you were my golden one!” The Chapter Master pouted, then shook his head as his face became serious.

Waelid stood in place, and we waited for his next words. “I did not slack off in preparation for this trial. You will be fine and will not only pass but will also win the practical.” He turned around and walked toward the Academy.

We stood there for a moment, looking at each other before following after him.

What started out as thirty recruits for House Anu was now down to twelve.

Every one of the kids who traveled through the Dark Woods with me, who ran away from goblins with me, and who survived a Guardian attack with me were all still here. Every single one.

The three other remaining members of our class were mysterious to us. They all came to Ash together. Their path took them by boat. According to some upperclassmen and Ol’ Mumm, they were from an eastern country and hardly understood the language of Stylos. Twelve of us were from different backgrounds, but we were in each other’s hands to survive. Whatever waited for us in the first level of the tower, I was determined that we would survive. I made a vow, to myself, that none of these kids die.

Academy of Ash First Year, First Semester Schedule
1st Period 7 am: Combat and Tactics
2nd Period 8 am: Stealth and Survival
3rd Period 9 am: Alchemy and Runic Applications
4th Period 10 am - 3 pm: Lunch and Free Periods
5th Period 3 pm: Beast Mastery
6th Period 4 pm: History and Strategy
7th Period 5 pm: Artifact Engineering

I was staring at the schedule when the kids in the room quieted. I looked up to see our friendly frog-man striding into the class, pushing a covered cart.

“Welcome, children. You’ve made it to the first day of classes. Good job surviving. Did we lose anyone?”

“Captain,” Zenobia shot up and gave a salute she’d seen other Cinders and upperclassmen do. “Only twelve of us remain from the initial class.”

“Is that so?” The frog-man looked around, inspecting the class and then smiling. “Ha, looks like Bartholomew’s and my group were the only ones that made it!” He nodded to us and then to the three mysterious kids from the East who sat behind us.

He walked up to the large chalkboard in the room and started writing.

The classroom was enormous for just twelve students. There were twenty rows of seats that could fit twenty students across. High ceilings held brass chandeliers with warm orange glowing bulbs. Beautifully crafted stained glass windows lined the wall to my right. We were several hundred feet above the ground in the academic wing of the Academy. Half buried within the massive pillar, the school was deceptively large; it could fit a whole town’s worth of people inside its doors.

The room had a large staging area in the shape of an oval. Hopsander swiped the chalk across the board dramatically as he finished writing:

Combat and Tactics: Class One, Year One
Cinder Captain Hopsander

“Combat—paramount to being a Cinder. You know this already, children, yes? When Bartholomew took you across the North Sea, you ran into dangers, correct, you three?” He held out his hand to the three students who sat behind us. We all turned around in unison.

The tallest of the three stood up—a boy with short red and black speckled hair. He had deep-set blue eyes, dark tan skin, and a wreath of scars trickling up his muscular arms. His name was Vahim.

“Captain,” Vahim said. “We encountered many dangers, and many lost their lives.”

“Ah, condolences, Vahim. But I’m sure Captain Bartholomew used combat to save who he could, yes?”

“He did, Captain, yes.” Vahim nodded.

“You may sit, Vahim. Children, relax a little here; we don’t need to be so formal.” Hopsander strode over to the covered cart he had brought in.

He pulled off the cover, revealing a full cart of various weapons. “Now! Where was I? Oh, yes. Combat. There will be times when you are on a mission for the Cinders, and you will find yourself without your favorite blade, hammer, or claw.” He looked over at Mel, who was already sporting her signature clawed gauntlet.

Mel shrugged. “Why would I ever let go of this baby?” She tapped the metal hand.

“When you are captured, when you need to go on assignment unarmed, or when your arm gets cut off. Does that answer your inquiry, dear?” Hopsander said with a weird mix of kindness and annoyance. I saw his eyebrow twitch slightly. He stood back up and walked across the hall.

Hopsander pulled a small hammer off the cart and showed us the weapon. “This simple carpenter’s hammer can be a damaging weapon if you have the knowledge to use it to its most effective ability.”

He pushed the cart to the side of the stage and looked up at Mel and then at me.

“Let’s have our two most prepared combatants step up first.” He gestured for us to come down onto the stage.

I looked confused and raised my hand as I walked down the stairs to the stage. “Captain, what are you having us do? And what do you mean by ‘most prepared’?”

“Well, my dear boy, you were the only recruits who were fortunate enough to bring your own weapons with you from your past life. This is a perfect time to show you exactly what I mean.” He walked up and held out his hand. “The dagger, boy, if you don’t mind.” He smiled down at me with his wide toothy grin.

I held my tongue and handed him the dagger. I felt Fern stir within me.

—‘We better get that back,’ he said, annoyed.

—Don’t worry, we will, I replied.

Mel looked annoyed across the stage from me. “Oh, hell no, you’re not taking Matilda.” She gripped her gauntlet tightly in her arms.

“You named it?” Zenobia let out a laugh from the front row.

“Shut up!” Mel shot the curly blonde a dirty look.

Hopsander placed my dagger on the table and then walked up to Mel. “Lass, hand over Miss Matilda. You’ll get her back after class. But, anytime—and this goes for everyone here—anytime you are in my classroom, you will use the new weapon you receive today until you master it.”

Mel grumbled and handed him the clawed gauntlet.

“Receive?” I asked.

Hopsander turned to face me. “Yes, you will fight for a weapon to pick from this cart!” He looked at Mel and me. “You two will go first since you came with your own weapons. Time to... update your fighting style. Now, change into your combat gear.”

He clapped his webbed hands, and two assistants came running into the room with standing changing shades, along with our all-black sparring outfits. We both changed, and the assistants removed the shades. They started passing out the other kids’ combat uniforms.

“You mean a fight with each other?” I said, suddenly realizing what he meant.

“Hey! You got a problem fighting me?” Mel said, already hopping from foot to foot with her fists raised.

Hopsander looked at me and nodded. “Of course, young Erik. Do you not remember the Head Master’s speech? Being a Cinder means being familiar with violence. Will you drop out now?”

I shook my head. “No, I... I can do this.” I centered myself and stood on a spot opposite Mel.

—It feels wrong; she’s like sixteen. I can’t just hit a teenage girl! I thought.

—‘Why not? She’s been so annoying and rude the whole time,’ Fern said.

—Fern. She most likely comes from a harsh past; she’s not inherently a bad person.

—‘Well, looks like you won’t have much of a choice.’

“Ready?” Hopsander raised his hand in the air.

“Wait!” I shot my hand out to him. “What are the terms? The rules?”

“Enough questions!” Mel said, hopping up and down. “Time to show all of you who’s the strongest here!”

“Until submission,” Hopsander said to me. “Now, fight!”

I turned my head toward the oncoming Mel and jumped. High.

Previous / Royal Road (On rising stars now! Thank you for your interest everywhere!)

The glass-skinned girl dug her nails into my forearm.

I yelped in pain and tried to pull away.

The murmurs of the other students faded as her presence dominated my senses. Her voice, heavy with an unfamiliar accent, grated against my ears.

“I ask you again,” she hissed, her pupil-less eyes locking onto mine. “You know what twin soul means, yes?”

I tried to pry her hand off my arm. My heart pounded, blood rushing in my ears. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I said shakily.

She leaned in closer, her porcelain skin shimmering in the rising sun. “A twin soul,” she repeated slowly, her raspy voice enunciating every syllable. “How did you accomplish this? Who did this?”

Before I could respond, Hopsander appeared from behind her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. He leaned past her, gave me a wink, and tightened his grip.

“Ayeee! Skruuzmah!” She twisted and cursed up at Hopsander in an unfamiliar language.

With my arm released, I stumbled back, rubbing the cuts her nails had left. I sucked in air through my teeth and sidestepped away. The burning pain made my arm throb.

“Miss Fan, thank you. Let the boy go. It’s okay.” Hopsander’s voice was calm, easing some of the tension.

Fan spun around to face him, frustration etched across her glass-like face. “A twin soul is forbidden! It’s a crime. Taboo even! Someone needs to report this.”

Hopsander rested a reassuring hand on her back. “We’re aware, Miss Fan. The staff will handle it from here. Don’t tell anyone else.”

Waelid’s enthusiastic voice interrupted the tense atmosphere as he popped his head out of the door. “Is something wrong?” He glanced at Fan, his bright eyes narrowing. Fan grunted, shaking her head with her arms crossed. When she moved, her skin sounded like the scraping of pottery.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she muttered to Hopsander before turning her gaze back to me. “But, I’ll be monitoring you.” She pointed at me with one of her white nails, now a faded red from my blood.

She left abruptly, leaving me rubbing my arm. Hopsander handed me a gauze wrap, and I bandaged my left forearm. He stood beside me, his presence reassuring. He looked over at a nearby tree and sauntered over. The frog-man pulled out a small folding stool and set it down against the tree. Hopsander sat and kicked out his legs. He looked over at me and waved me over.

“Young Erik, how are you feeling? You haven’t had a chance to catch your breath,” he said quietly. He pulled out a ridiculously long, twisting pipe and looked around suspiciously before lighting some ground-up green leaf. “None of you have had a chance to breathe. Typical life for a Cinder.”

“I… I’m fine. What was that all about? What did she mean by twin soul?”

He looked up at me and puffed a long trail of smoke.

“Lad, surely you can’t think we are that dense, right? Burnings save me, son. You sit there and stare off into the distance, completely checked out from the present. I assume you’re talking to whoever is in you?” He pointed at my chest.

I felt my face redden, my stomach twisting. “I—I… wait, I can explain. I did nothing! This… this happened to me! I shouldn’t even—” I stuttered, trying to defend myself.

—Was this it? With my secret out, will they allow me to be as I was? Will they see it as some form of blasphemy? The things I could do, the speed I could fight with—did all of this make me stand out too much? Was it because when I talked to Fern, I checked out in real life?

I felt myself spiraling. My finger picked at my thumb, and my breathing quickened. Glancing around, I desperately searched for an escape—from Hopsander, from the Cinders, from whatever I needed to run away from to survive.

Then, large webbed hands snapped in front of me.

“Lad. Lad!” Hopsander sighed. “Great gods, young Erik, take a breath. Nothing bad will happen to you. But work on your dreadful attempt to act normal.”

I opened my mouth to ask questions, but Hopsander raised a finger to his lips.

“Go on,” he urged softly, gesturing toward the House Anu dorms. “You don’t want to fall behind. As for the twin soul stuff, come meet me after you have settled in. I will be here.” The large frog-man kicked back on his stool under the tree and took another puff of his curly-straw-looking pipe.

I nodded and ran away. Anxiety crept up my neck and shoulders. I had a thousand burning questions, but I’d have to play by their rules for now.

When I entered House Anu’s dormitory, my jaw almost dropped. After all the hours and days of trudging through dirt, being chased by monsters, and barely surviving, I finally found my nirvana. Realizing how different House Anu’s dorm was compared to the harsh corridors and grand rooms of the Academy, I couldn’t help but smile. The place was like the universe’s coziest library or bookstore. Shelves lined the walls, filled with hundreds of bound texts, scrolls, and ancient-looking books. Plush chairs were scattered around the large living room I walked into. Desks were neatly arranged with study materials along the walls.

On the front side of the house, stained glass covered the windows, casting vibrant, colorful patterns—maroon and black—on the floor. The windows at the back opened to the beach, letting in the fresh ocean breeze and the soothing sound of waves. The aroma of old books and polished wood filled the air.

To my right, in a smaller room, Silas and Tevin waved me over. I shuffled toward them. The worry about meeting with Hopsander later lessened when I was with my friends.

“Nice of you to join us, Erik,” Silas greeted. He was fiddling with his mechanical arm.

“We’re about to eat,” Tevin said happily. He rubbed his belly and craned his neck to look over the crowd of recruits.

“Grab your plate last, big guy, otherwise you might take everyone’s portion,” Zenobia said playfully over her shoulder. She stood in front of Tevin in a doorway. I couldn’t see what was ahead yet.

We eventually made our way into the large new room. It was set up simply, although it was as large as the living room on the other side of the dorm. The dining room was like a small cafeteria. There were a dozen round wooden tables with at least ten seats each. Upperclassmen already occupied some tables.

Waelid stood in front of our group of thirty-something kids.

“Is everyone here? Number one fan, you back there?” Waelid leaned over and met my eyes before giving a wide grin. “Good, there you are! Anyway, welcome, everyone! Our next part of the tour is our dining room. We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner here daily. Who prepared the food, you ask? Why, none other than our beloved Ol’ Mumm!” He hopped up on a table and held out his hands toward the double doors of the kitchen.

A roar erupted from behind the kitchen doors. Then, a large brown shape pushed past them and let out a grumble.

An enormous bear, twice the size of a grizzly, thudded in front of us. She was wearing a large white coat and black pants. A dozen red, green, and yellow stains dotted her clothes. A large steaming pot of rice dangled from her back, held by thick twine.

“What in the… Waelid! You burning fool boy. What did I tell you about showcasing me around like some prissy Mageblood whore?” the bear said, her mouth flaps flinging spit at the kids in front. She had an old, stern woman’s voice.

She was more bear than anything else. Like Hopsander, she was a beastman.

Waelid hopped around her, dodging her swipes. “Oh, come on now, Mumm! It’s the newest recruits. I told them all about your food and just how amazing it is!” Waelid flipped backward out of the bear’s range.

Ol’ Mumm sighed and rubbed her furry forehead. She looked over at us and squinted.

“Let me get a good look at ya kids.” She pulled out a pair of small spectacles and stood up on her hind legs, towering above us and touching the high ceiling. “Hmm, not as many of ya as last year’s batch. Good, I can make less.” She turned and headed back into the kitchen.

“Wait, Ol’ Mumm!” Waelid shouted after her. “What about our breakfast? Won’t you make some for these new recruits? Please, Mumm?”

The giant bear-woman tilted her head back toward us. “I already did. Check the table.” She nodded, gesturing with her snout. We turned around, and on three large round tables, thirty-something meals were set. Piping hot rice, eggs, vegetables, and several thin links of sausage sat on white plates.

The longer I stayed here, the more it seemed like a resort than a military academy.

Waelid smiled brightly and turned to thank Ol’ Mumm, who had already gone back inside the kitchen.

“Ah, she will get to know you all the longer you stay here. Eat and take the rest of the day off. Maybe go check out the academy more, hang out down by the beach, or whatever. Have fun!” He held his arms up dramatically and spun in a circle several times. Then, he stopped and looked back at our group. “Tomorrow will be very different.” Waelid gave a wink and then walked away.

We stood there a moment, unsure where to sit when Mel strode past everyone.

“Move it, weaklings!” she said. Mel walked up to a plate, dragged the chair out, and sat down, devouring the food in front of her. “Ahh! So good!”

Zenobia frowned and pushed her way past the crowd, finding her seat near Mel. “You are so rude; couldn’t wait for everyone to get to it at their own pace?”

“Hey, I eat when I am given the option. Never gonna find me passing up a meal,” Mel said with rice stuffed in her mouth.

One by one, we and the other recruits found our seats and ate. I sat at the same table as Mel and Zenobia. Everyone from our group sat at the table as well. Our dynamics might be a little chaotic, but we all wanted to be with people we knew rather than strangers. I looked around at the other tables and noticed that, like us, the other new recruits were in their small cliques. Their journeys to Ash must have bonded them.

As we ate, Silas, Tevin, and I talked about the impressive scale of Baldred's Pillar and the Academy that sat at its base.

“I’m telling you, that pillar has to have so many secrets. No way it was naturally formed,” I said, reaching for a glass of water.

“What do you think Waelid meant when he said we are going to ‘explore’ the tower?” Silas asked.

“Maybe we’re going to climb it?” Tevin suggested.

“I hope not. I’m not the best with heights.” I scratched my chin.

“Hey, me too!” Sora said from across the table.

“See, Sora gets it! And did you see how tall that thing is? Nope, can’t do that,” I said, feeling more comfortable with my companions.

“There’s no point in wondering about it; that will only cause unnecessary stress,” Ruriel muttered. “Detachment from those kinds of thoughts is the best way to live life.”

“And just what kind of philosophy is that?” Mel said, washing down her mouthful of food.

“Oh, the little sewer rat knows about philosophy?” Lucius said. He gently wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking another modest scoop of food.

Mel slammed her fist down on the table. “This sewer rat will crush that high-class windpipe of yours if you keep that up.”

“Hey, hey, let’s all calm down. Why can’t we enjoy this meal? We all deserve it. We ran so far and traveled for so long that we are here now, away from persecution or slavery. Let’s relax and get along with each other.” Rinka waved her hands, urging us to relax.

“Well, tell that to him. He’s the one who called me a ‘sewer rat’,” Mel said.

“Lucius, you did do that. Apologize; that isn’t right.” Rinka furrowed her eyebrows at the white-haired boy.

Lucius sighed and lowered his head. “I’m sorry,” he grumbled.

Mel rolled her eyes and continued eating.

Rinka spoke up again. “We have to let go of our pasts.” She looked around the table and met my eyes. “Some of us knew each other before we were put onto that carriage, and some of us still carry feelings about how the others lived or who they associated with.”

“She’s right,” Zenobia said beside me. She, like Lucius, also ate her food with grace. “If we want to do well here and work as a team, we have to forget our past.”

The group around the table slowly nodded. I looked at Silas, who seemed as confused as I was.

I raised my hand. “Hey, um, so Silas and I do not know what you all are talking about. I get it—bad past, and now, we have to work together. However, I also think for us all to work together, we should know each other a lot more than we already do. How about we sit down and each tell our own story? I think knowing each other’s past rather than forgetting it is better.”

They all looked around. Silas nodded and gave me a thumbs-up.

“I don’t mind doing that,” Zenobia said. “You’re right; empathizing with each other could benefit our teamwork. I am in full support.”

Others around the table agreed to my suggestion, even Lucius.

After breakfast, we were led to our dorm room by an upperclassman. Tevin, Ruriel, Silas, and Lucius all shared one room with me. It was on the second floor and overlooked the beach. The room was modest; aside from five beds, small desks, and even smaller closets next to the desks, there wasn’t much else. When we walked in, I immediately ran to a corner to claim it as mine. It had a desk by a large window overlooking the ocean. I touched the desk and imagined writing letters to Lotrick about my brother. The other boys claimed their spaces and got settled. Lucius lay down on the bed and let out an audible sigh. Silas paced around the middle of the room.

Silas suggested, “We should all go explore some of the school and get an idea of what it’s like before we start tomorrow. I’m nervous. Aren’t you?”

I shook my head. “I can’t go. Hopsander asked to speak with me.”

Silas raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

I hesitated. “Maybe it’s because I asked to switch? Maybe he’s mad?”

Silas nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, okay, well… good luck! What about you, Ruriel? Tevin? Lucius?”

Tevin nodded and trotted up to Silas. “I want to see if I can start categorizing the native bugs here!”

Ruriel scratched his head and shuffled up to them nonchalantly. “I guess I can be bothered to go. This room is too stifling for my tastes.”

Lucius groaned and turned over on the bed. “Pass. I’m resting here. I have no interest in ‘exploring’,” he mocked.

“Suit yourself, you grouch,” Silas said. “Alright, see you later, Erik! C’mon, guys.” He ran out the door. Silas had really broken out of his shell since I first met him.

I sighed and turned away from the window. “Alright, I’m off to find Hopsander.”

“Whatever,” Lucius mumbled.

Outside, the morning sun bathed the area in a warm glow as it turned into afternoon.

Hopsander sat where I had left him, his expression relaxed and the twisting pipe in his large hands. The ocean breeze ruffled his long white beard as he turned his attention toward me.

“Ah! Young Erik,” he said, his voice low but pleasant.

A mix of anxiety bubbled up inside me. I took a deep breath and blurted out, “Can we cut straight to the chase? You know I have another soul inside me?”

Hopsander glanced around to ensure no one else was listening. “Well, just go on and shout it out for all to hear, lad. First, my questions. Did you perform the ritual?”

My mind raced. “What do you mean? What ritual?”

Hopsander rubbed his chin. “No then? Did someone perform a ceremony on you?”

“No, I… shit.”

“Out with it, young Erik. Your honesty is paramount to your… well-being.”

My eyes widened. “You’ll… kill me?”

“Not me, but you see, what Fan mentioned—the twin soul—is a taboo sort of thing. Leads to damnation and destruction and all that.” He waved his hand as he talked. “It shouldn’t even be possible for someone as young as you. Fan recognized it because all Cinders are taught how to recognize a twin soul.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t do any of this… and if I tell you what happened, to be honest, I am worried about my safety… and his.” I pointed to my chest.

Hopsander’s eyes widened. “You… can hear the second soul?”

A sharp pain rang in my head.

—‘What are you doing, Erik? You’re blowing our whole secret open,’ Fern said.

—We are cornered, Fern, up against the wall. Maybe he will understand, I replied.

I rubbed my head and shook it before looking back at Hopsander. “I was placed in this body. I am not sure how, but one moment I stepped into a portal-looking thing, and the next I found myself in Fern’s body.”

“Fern…?” Hopsander tilted his head.

“The boy whose body I took over.”

“And he still talks to you like that?” Hopsander asked.

“Yes, he is one within me.”

“Interesting… well, this changes things. That’s not a twin soul; it’s something else.” He stood up and stretched. “Listen, we will need to discuss this more with someone more qualified in these sorts of happenings. I will get you when I have someone who can help. For now, keep this a secret. Understand, lad?”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said.

He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Just stay focused and support your team. Aside from the trials and the classes you are taking here, you won’t be killed.”

I nodded slowly. “So, what exactly is happening? Do you know anything about… this?” I pointed at my chest.

Hopsander took a deep breath. “Like I said, we need someone with a deeper understanding of the arcane. I will come and find you. For now, focus on school. Tomorrow is the first day. Eat a big dinner and sleep early. Trust me.”

“Alright. I’ll be waiting for you,” I said.

He smiled. “Good luck, lad. Stay strong.”

I took a deep breath, nodding. “I will.”

I didn’t join Silas or the others in exploring the school. Instead, I went back up to my room and lay down. My head was pounding, and Fern had become awfully silent. When I tried to talk to him, he didn’t respond.

The rest of the day I lay in bed, my head throbbing.

Later that evening, after we wrapped up dinner, Waelid approached our table with a mischievous grin. “Alright, you first years. School starts bright before dawn. If you avoid class or skip, you will be punished,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Everything about the evening was a blur. I quickly headed upstairs after dinner to sleep.

The dormitory was quiet as I settled into my bed. I opened the window to let in the ocean breeze. My roommates—Ruriel, Silas, Lucius, and Tevin—were already dozing off, their breathing blending with the distant waves. I yawned, pulling the covers over myself. The pain from my headache dulled, and eventually, I could sleep.

CLANG CLANG CLANG!

The sudden clanging of a gong shattered the peaceful silence. My eyes shot open, and I jolted upright. My heart pounded as I struggled to understand what was happening.

“Rise and shine, recruits!” Waelid’s voice echoed through the dormitory, louder and more urgent than before. He popped his head into our room. “Be downstairs in your fatigues in five minutes!”

I rubbed my eyes, disoriented, as my roommates groaned and stretched. Reality hit me—this was a military academy.

Of course, that’d mean daily morning workouts.

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Chapter 194 – Come out and play

Human soldiers were buzzing around like the guards of a kicked hornet's nest after a wave of dark realization had slowly but surely been spreading through their ranks; the tremors gradually reaching alarm bell after alarm bell, eventually leading to a concerto of ringing while enormous red flags began to wave.

Although there was no clear picture yet of what exactly it was, a deep certainty had quickly taken hold that something, anything, was most certainly wrong here. And even though nobody could tell with certainty exactly what was wrong or just how wrong it really was, nobody was willing to find out the hard way anymore. Not after everything that happened.

“And you are sure you were the first?” Admiral Krieger loudly asked into her radio, her voice loud enough to border on yelling as she posed her authoritative question.

James glanced over at his mother as she waited for the reply from her soldiers; only for a moment to take in her expression to try and gauge how bad things really were.

The Admiral usually kept a pretty cool head – whenever she wasn't fighting with him specifically at least – so hearing her raise her voice indicated that she felt a sense of danger that may be a bit greater than the vague situation directly called for.

“Yes, Ma'am,” the voice of a young man came out of the radio's speakers a moment later. “We had the task to run the first assessment just like the system says. However, we didn't run into any group of cyborgs, nor did we tell anyone to stand closer to the main building to look better for any cameras.”

The Admiral's scowl deepened as her eyes narrowed at her radio for a moment.

“Understood,” she finally stated into the device. “Stay alert. There may be impostors running about. Do not trust anyone who cannot unquestionably identify themselves.”

“Understood, Ma'am,” the voice replied briefly, before the Admiral sighed and allowed the radio to sink down.

Her lips then released a mild clacking sound as she opened just their very corners into an aggressive grimace.

“I'm starting to get really tired of these smoke and mirror parlor tricks,” she said with a mostly calm voice that carried just a hint of the absolute malice underneath. “Nothing should've been able to get in or out of this station without us knowing. How in all nine rings did some upstart terrorists sneak themselves through?”

James lifted his hand to his mouth as the thought about that. Finally, he released a long breath through his nose.

“Maybe they didn't have to...” he mumbled as the only idea that made any sense to him.

The Admiral lifted an eyebrow at him, wordlessly asking him to elaborate. James wasn't sure if she didn't have the thought herself yet or if she simply wanted him to talk her through it to try and confirm any possible theories she may have had.

Either way, he decided not to argue too much as he explained,

“Well, since the decision to grant me the Council Seat that brought us here in the first place had to be discussed and decided on by the Council first, that means there are a good few people who knew that we would likely be coming here long before we did. Long shot: Maybe they didn't need to smuggle themselves in because they were here before we were?”

The Admiral nodded, her own hand now also wandering to her mouth now as she thought.

“If that's the case, it makes you wonder what they were waiting for,” Shida chimed in from James' side. Even as she spoke, her ears were constantly twitching around nervously, eager to pick up on any unusual sound that may happen in their surroundings while her tail swayed with aggressive tension.

On his other side, Admir had is arms crossed, balancing on one leg while the tip of his left foot rhythmically tapped against the station's floor. His gaze had been lowered for a while now as he was lost in deep thought, though as he heard Shida's question, it snapped up for a moment as the man looked around over the thousands of people that were still surrounding them on all sides – seeming non the wiser to the change in atmosphere that the humans were going through.

“Maybe for the opportunity to do the biggest possible damage...” she supposed, seeming to talk more to himself than to actually answer Shida directly. His gaze kept wandering for a few moments more before he loosened one of his arms from their tangle to run it along the side of his head. “But how?”

Seeming to catch the tail end of his quiet murmuring as she returned from setting some of the surrounding soldiers into motion, Koko looked up along the walls of the enormous Council building that stood majestically in front of them.

“At least we know it can't be anything in there,” she said, her voice hinting vaguely at a bit of relief. James was glad that someone could still see the positives in the situation, even if eliminating one angle of possible catastrophe really was a small consolation price in the grand scheme of things.

A hint of doubt still nagged at the back of his mind, telling him that maybe they had missed something there as well. However, he had to fight those down. They had done everything shy of taking that entire building apart and putting it back together after.

They couldn't focus their energy on searching for the problem in the one place where they knew it couldn't be.

Suddenly, Admir snapped up, his pondering seemingly struck through by a single thought that he needed to get out right now.

“Admiral, please order everyone to remove their breathfilters,” he requested hastily, though he still tried his best to remain professional.

Admiral Krieger's head titled slightly at the request, but only for a second before she nodded.

“Good idea,” she confirmed before lifting her radio once again, briefly changing some of its settings before she loudly spoke into it. “This is Admiral Krieger to all teams. Remove your breathfilters immediately.”

Once she had given the order and a rain of confirmations was coming in, everyone at present already got to work fulfilling it as well, releasing seals with quiet hisses before pulling their heads free from the masks and shaking their hair out.

“Well, if we're lucky they aren't pitched into our comms right now and blunder their way right into our arms,” Andrej commented as he briefly ran a hand through his long hair to untangle it. He didn't sound all too hopeful about that actually happening though.

“And even if they are, some of our people have a better chance to spot someone who's out of place,” Koko confirmed, though a moment later she scratched her cheek and began to look slightly sheepish. “Though...let's hope we don't get a bunch of false alarms from people who simply haven't run into each other yet.”

The Admiral shook her head in response.

“I trust that all of my soldiers have the basic ability to know how to have someone identify themselves,” she stated dryly before she started to look along the rows of soldiers that were lining the various assembled crowds on nearly all sides of them.

Even for her, there was obviously no way to know every single person currently under her command, so it was unlikely that she could tell if someone was out of place just at a glance. Still, James knew she was looking for other things on their faces than familiarity.

Nervousness, aggression, even overbearing calmness; everything could be a hint towards someone feeling like they were about to be found out.

However, James didn't expect her to find anything quite so easily.

With a hint of dread steadily building in his stomach that something would slip through the cracks despite all care, he briefly glanced back at the group of cyborgs who seemed to have been deliberately directed into their current position by someone whose intentions were unknown – but more likely than not malicious towards them...at the very least as an extension of the malice that said unknown felt towards him.

However, unlike him, these people were just...well people. Normal people, living normal lives. They had come here to see Curi, who had been trying so hard to be like them once, before...

James swallowed heavily and glanced over at Nia, who was quietly talking to Tuya, Nichola and Simon not far away from him. A pang of guilt shot through him as he looked at her.

“We should get the people out of here, shouldn't we?” he finally said, turning his gaze towards his mother a moment later. “Whatever is happening here, it's too dangerous to just let it unfold.”

The Admiral slowly exhaled through her nose, her eyes still assessing everything around them.

“Or that is what they want us to do,” she mumbled, though it sounded like she was just posing that as an option instead of being in any way sure of it. She then sighed and shook her head once again. “If we do that, we are going to have to make sure it is done in a slow and controlled manner. We can't have this turn into chaos. What's imperative is that we keep a tight lock on this situation and do not lose our ability to oversee it all. We can't give them an opening to slip through in our very attempt to not let them slip through.”

James' jaws clenched briefly as an annoyingly familiar part of him instantly wanted to snap and argue with her, even if he didn't truthfully think what she said was all that wrong in the end. It was just an irritating leftover from their even more hostile days towards each other.

“Not to overstep here, but I may have an idea, Ma'am,” Andrej suddenly chimed in and walked up to the Admiral, whose sharp hazel eyes quickly locked with his crimson ones.

“I'm all ears, Major,” she replied without a moment of hesitation, speaking of honest candidness towards hearing his plan out.

–

The man lifted a hand to hook a finger into the collar of his jacket and shirt, running it along the inside to pull the fabric away from sticking to his skin. It certainly was warm around here, but that wasn't exactly what had him sweating.

He swallowed heavily as his eyes subtly darted over to the large door opening in the distance. Although they were just splotches of color from this distance, his mind could fill in the gaps about what was happening over there.

Meanwhile, a reporter standing nearby whose crew hadn't quite managed to get themselves any of the real good spots for the day among all this onrush spoke into a camera with a put-on 'this is important' voice.

“It looks like the cyborg known as 'Curi' is now stepping out of the Council building again after their hearing with the Council concluded for today,” the sipusserleng dutifully reported while the camera swung around to zoom in on the black shape of that creature as it crawled out of the much too large for its size gateway and joined back up with the bulk of the people who had accompanied it on its way there. The bulk of them being the crucial term. “By the look of things, they are being welcomed by the human Admiral. The Candidates Aldwin, Ajaxjier and Strenntain, who seemed to have originally planned to wait for the cyborg's return themselves, have not yet returned after they were quite suddenly escorted from the premises by their human security about a quarter of an hour ago. So far, the human military has made no statements about why the Candidates were so swiftly escorted off the scene, but one can only assume that there has to be some form of perceived threat to these politically vital people to cause such a reaction – though so far there has been no statements made concerning public safety, indicating that whatever the threat may be, it is most likely deemed to be specific to the Candidates themselves.”

The man tugged on his collar one last time before allowing it to snap back against his neck with a smack of his lips.

He had first-row seats when the Saint was dragged away under the very careful gazes of all those officers earlier. By now, he was most likely sitting pretty in a nice, cozy cabin; untouchable up on one of the warships.

They had really gotten careful around him, that much was clear. Got him the fuck out of dodge first and foremost while leaving plenty of his little friends behind to handle the publicity while he sat it out.

The man clicked his tongue a couple of times as he looked over at the unfolding reunion again. Seemed like they were taking their sweet time. A moment later, he glanced up at the giant meat-carpet who lumbered right behind him.

The arxhijeruterrian – who didn't have to bother with such a damn uncomfortable uniform as she obviously needed nothing but one of the local security identifiers as her 'disguise' – nodded her head slowly, causing the many meatflaps that grew out of her mottled skin to wiggle disturbingly.

It was just about time.

Both of them soon enough lifted their respective forms of communication, pretending to listen to something for a couple of moments before loudly confirming their 'orders' in a professional tone and beginning to pull back out of the crowd.

With just how many people had come to this place, it of course took them a bit to truly work themselves all the way through, during which the man constantly had to dodge arms, hands, tails and other stuff hanging right at the height of his face while he weaved through the masses of mostly giants.

Hundreds of people later, they finally emerged on the crowd's other side, now fairly close to the station's walls.

Still, even back here they weren't quite out of the woods yet. The U.H.S.D.F. really had smelled blood in the water, it seemed. More soldiers – legitimate ones – were still keeping an overwatch of the situation this far away from their main ward.

They would have to move carefully if they didn't want to blow their cover this close to the finish line.

Luckily, the basic training he had endured under the whip of his insane father had given him more than enough knowledge to help him not stick out. He knew how to follow their orders and how to behave while doing it.

Never in his life would he have expected to be glad about that at some point. But the Lord worked in mysterious ways, and now it was clear that there had always been a plan for his suffering.

Oh how he wished that he had been allowed to bring his pendant. Of course he understood why it would have been detrimental. But still, a moment like this would have been one like no other to thank and praise the Lord for showing him that he had walked on the right path.

But no, he shouldn't dwell. It wasn't the symbol that gave them the connection. And even without it, he knew that he was walking closer to heaven than he ever did before.

With that knowledge in his heart, he moved with purpose, keeping up a stiff and directed stride as he walked right past the soldiers without dignifying their presence with a glance. He acted like he belonged, that was crucial here.

They all had their own orders and their own things to do – none of them had the time to constantly stop each other for questioning. Still, if they smelled as much as a whiff of uncertainty, they wouldn't hesitate. That's why he couldn't show them any.

The streets around them, the roofs above their heads, yes, even the ground under their feet: They were all crawling with the misled. Those on the wrong path.

The poor fools who were stumbling their way through the rocky roads of life as they followed the blinding light of a radiant Saint like moths to the flame.

He pitied them. It was so easy to see why they went wrong. With so much bad happening all around, the urge to be saved could be overwhelming.

However, be it man, angel, or even the Lord made flesh Himself – no salvation could come from anything within His creation. If even He failed through the flaws brought through His descent into form, then all saviors were doomed to suffer the same fate from the very start – and lead all those who were following straight down into the abyss with them.

“It's this one,” he announced loudly, playing his role out perfectly even while ruminating on his own thoughts. He had already pulled his phone out, pretending to briefly check a map before confirming the building they were standing next to as their destination just loud enough for close by soldiers to possibly overhear if they were trying to.

The building itself was a small store for antiques that stood quaintly away from the beaten path and had the strong appearance of something that wasn't run as a way to make profit but instead simply fulfilled some kind of long kept desire for its owner – which in turn made it stand out quite firmly from all the rather uniform and plain metal walls of the other buildings that surrounded it on all sides.

The outer walls were painted in a golden-brown color, and instead of lettering that was attached to the walls in some way, a quaint little sign standing in front of the door informed about the location's name.

“Inherit Venvihoo's collection of antiquities.”

The inside of the store was much the same; filled with rows and rows of wooden shelves that were filled with all manner of old trinkets hailing from various planets.

From behind the counter at the far end of the store, a slightly elderly pepthauzies looked over at the new arrivals with a slightly cross-eyed gaze.

The crescent-shaped ears on his head spread ever so slightly apart as he processed who had come in there.

“Excuse me sir,” the uniformed human quickly greeted the alien, standing straight in a respectful manner as he looked up at the large creature. “We believe this location may offer a valuable vantage point to oversee the ongoing event for possible threats. Would it be possible to get your permission to use the upper level for a brief time?”

The pepthauzies released a slightly hoarse, pondering sound while the almost gill-like nostrils on his face flared a bit.

“Why, of course,” he then quickly confirmed with a slow nod. His croaky voice sounded just as up in age as the rest of him looked. “Right this way.”

He reached out a slightly shaky arm to gesture towards the nearby frame of a door – though there was no actual door in it – that led to an oversized stairway right behind it.

“I hope it's not too much of a bother...” the old xeno then almost lamented as he walked up to the entryway to meet with the two 'soldiers'. “This building is not outfitted for the smaller species.”

“I'll manage,” the human quickly waved the concern off, even though he was surprised that the old man sounded honestly guilty about the circumstances. What an odd fella.

With a gesture, the human indicated for his accomplice to go on ahead and watched as the enormous salamander dragged her disturbing body up the large stairs with her eight webbed hand-feet. It really was quite the sight seeing her almost glide up the steps, especially because her flesh-fur hung all the more disturbingly off her body as she did.

Then, he took a deep breath, briefly steeling himself for the task ahead. It really was a good thing he had kept himself in shape.

Thanks to the low gravity, it actually wasn't all that hard to drag himself up the large stairs, each of which reached just above his knee in height. But it was still annoying.

If everything was going well – which he would have to rely on since there was no room for going back or second guessing anymore – it should be right about now that the U.H.S.D.F.'s chain of command would get the convincing call-in that a team of theirs was actually taking position in this very building.

Just in time for him to poke his mug through one of the upper windows, showing that there really was someone wearing the right uniform chilling up here as announced.

Since it would be expected for someone to be here, he showed himself completely open. The only thing he had to do now was not to behave in a suspicious way so that no one would have a reason to question him being here. Therefore, as long as he looked like he was surveying the situation, things should be absolutely fine.

And he would look just like that while he proceeded with his actual task.

In all honestly, he had no idea just how exactly the Guide had found this exact spot. At least if it really was as perfect as he claimed it was.

According to whatever intel they had, this spot – and this spot only – allowed for the view onto a very special part of the Council Building's ceiling that was near completely obscured from basically all other angles – be they above or below.

The odds of something like that happening – even in such a huge place – were so incredibly slim that the man had to wonder if it was somehow installed into the station purposefully, even if he couldn't quite imagine what exact 'purpose' it may have been build for.

Well, maybe it had no purpose at all. Maybe it just existed through a cosmic coin flip and by some incredible coincidence, the Guide had actually managed to find it among the many thousand places on this station.

Or maybe...the Lord worked in mysterious ways.

In order to not make himself suspicious, he didn't look left or right as he gazed out of the window. Instead, he immediately used a pair of binoculars go gaze straight ahead over the crowd.

Only for a very brief moment did his gaze barely scrape over the hidden Sister crouching in the secret spot, almost completely hidden in between the large exhaust of one of the internal air conditioning units and the two adjacent pipes of its cooling systems.

Her dedication was nothing but absolutely admirable as she had been waiting up there with nothing but her mission and some very meager supplies for days on end, not once even making the hint of a complaint while events unraveled around her, leaving her with nothing to do but agonizingly wait for her moment.

He couldn't even imagine the kind of state she must have been in right now... and yet she remained patient. Like a snake in the grass, she bid her time, waiting for the exact fraction of a second to strike.

Even after all this waiting, she wouldn't have more time than that. She wouldn't even be able to poke her head out of her nigh-perfect hiding spot – not for a second – without the risk of being spotted by the vigilant eyes of any of the surrounding soldiers.

That's what he was here for. He would have to be her eyes.

For the first time since they had arrived, he activated the microphone of the device in his collar which he had kept deadened so far so that there was no chance of it possibly endangering the dedicated Sister's mission.

“Sister Moreau, I am in position,” he announced.

Even just looking above his binoculars with his bare eyes for a moment, he could see that the Sister barely moved in her position, even as she heard what may have been the first voice speaking to her in days.

“Brother Esposito,” she replied, her voice calm and deep as a gentle sea. “I am ready. Just point me to them.”

Esposito exhaled slowly.

“Your moment is almost at hand,” he assured her as he looked down through the binoculars again, taking in the scene in front of the building she was waiting upon. “Just be patient a little longer.”

As it was planned, the cyborg's emergence from the Council Building had summoned a herd of reporters and journalists to stall it and its group from leaving the premises. Quite lucky. It seemed that it was going to work on the first try.

“I would wait for months more if it will let us topple the idol of the Saint,” Sister Moreau replied with that same, almost meditative calmness.

The possibility had been discussed that they might have to drag this plan out for much longer than they already had. However once again the Lord was on their side.

Esposito counted the paces from one xeno to another, mapping the distance out in his head.

“They are standing close enough,” he then announced, realizing that the metal monster as well as many of its friends were standing almost perfectly for everything to unfold. If she only brought the weapon down right in front of her, it would be able to unfold its devastating effect and strike true. “All you need t-”

His sentence was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from his xeno accomplice, who had so far quietly waited behind him to watch over things unfolding. Almost within the same very moment that she had sucked in the breath, a high, piercing noise suddenly cut through the room, immediately followed by the feeling of something warm and wet hitting the side of Esposito's head and neck.

His eyes widened as his brain was left with fractions of a second to process what had happened as he only heard the sound of something heavy hitting the ground behind him.

Time slowed down as his mind rapidly flashed through the options he had, everything going by like a sped-up picture show in front of his inner eye.

“Now, quickly!” he managed to yell out while he tried to shoot around, reaching for the weapon on his hip – although he didn't even get to turn his head a quarter of the way before a force hit him so violently in the left side of his back that his already lifeless body was torn out of the window, flipping over two times on its way down as it limply rag-dolled to the floor.

With Esposito's voice suddenly cutting off and the sound of screams erupting faintly in the distance, Moreau knew that there was no time, she had to do it right now.

Determined that all her patience cannot have been in vain, she burst out of her hiding spot while clutching the weapons between her hands. Things had fallen into place. All she needed to do was to throw it.

All she needed-

In a splash, her body was thrown back against the pipes she had just been hiding behind, her insides spraying across the metal out of two large holes almost a second before the sound of the gunshots rang out across the ceiling.

Slipping from her grasp as her arm went limp, the weapon cluttered to the ground uselessly, rolling a few measures away from her before coming to a standstill.

The life behind her eyes had already left as they emptily stared off in the direction of her killer, still wide in disbelief at just how this all could have happened within less than a few seconds.

On the other end of her corpse's vacant stare, the shoulders of a black-haired man slowly sank as he released a long breath while gradually allowing the scope of his gun to sink as well.

“Nice shot, Buzz,” Athena said as she slowly put her gun down as well, whipping her head around slightly so her ponytail would gently slap against James' shoulder. “Looks like you're not so rusty after all.”

James fully settled his weapon around hip-height before reaching up and wiping some sweat from his forehead.

“Thanks. But I don't think this is over,” he replied as he briefly looked down at the people-turned-spraypaint that were lying lifeless at their feet. Sadly, this had absolutely not been the time to attempt for a disarming shot instead of going for the surefire kill.

“That did feel like a symptom much more than a cause,” Admir confirmed through their shared communications – though James could also hear his voice echoing up from outside the window he was standing in front of as the Lieutenant was positioned right under it, having literally waited right under the would-be assassin's nose.

“At least that would have been a very clumsy attempt if it was their only one,” Tuya commented, and their peaceful discussion was only slightly disturbed by the screams still happening after a dead body had suddenly dropped out a building, followed by several very loud gunshots. Hopefully the soldiers would be able to keep the panicking crowd somewhat under control. Sadly, the shots had been necessary.

“All the more reason to keep moving,” Andrej announced, his voice also coming faintly through Tuya's line since the two of them were standing rather close as they guarded their backs in the store below. “Cleanup's on the way. Form up on me and we'll see if we can't find some pests scattering in the aftermath.”

“Yessir,” James and Athena simultaneously replied before quickly slinging their larger weapons around their shoulders and hurrying back to the stairs.

-

Shida's expression darkened as her ears twitched heavily after the shots had rung out. Quickly, she grabbed onto Nia's shoulders, pulling her a little closer as the surrounding crowd began to squirm in nervous movement – even while the surrounding soldiers did their very best to assure them that everything was under control.

“Jamie and Sam, for sure,” Koko said in a very knowing tone, standing about a step away from her as she, too, kept a close eye on the nervous crowd.

Shida couldn't help but bite her lip a bit, annoyed that she had to stay behind while the team decided to go on the offensive for once, figuring that, after all the care they had put into his protection so far, none of their foes would expect for James of all people to actively go on the hunt.

Of course, she also knew that she basically had no one to blame but herself, but that didn't exactly make it sting any less. However, the least she could do now was try and make sure everyone else would be alright while those five were out there cleaning house.

And so, she kept a close eye on all the civilians. Fynn would probably be fine as long as he stayed close to his sister, and she wasn't all that worried about Curi considering everything she had known the cyborg to survive. Congloarch could also watch out for himself – so that left only Nia and the two influencers to keep out of harm's way.

So far, no full-on panic was breaking out. But Shida could tell people were right on the verge.

“Now would really be the time to go, wouldn't it?” she heavily suggested towards the Commander standing close to her. Although there was technically someone way further up the ladder nearby, Koko was the one currently in charge of the protective measures and could therefore make that call. Shida highly doubted that the Admiral would object if they all wanted to get out of there.

“Yeah, fair,” Koko agreed barely a second after Shida had said it, her green eyes making direct contact with Shida's. “Let's go.”

Simon had lowered his camera by now, quickly moving to support Nia's other side to help her walk while Nichola took it upon herself to swiftly rush over to get Curi and Congloarch on board.

In the meantime, Shida's awareness still hovered all around them, making sure nothing would be able to sneak up on them as they started to make their way back down the protected corridor leading through the sea of people that lay behind them.

Though she was stopped in her tracks when someone...well...didn't exactly try to sneak up on them.

“Oi!” a familiar voice called out, instantly causing the feline to freeze as her ears stood straight up. “Don't leave me 'angin' 'ere!”

First_Previous_

Royal Road_wiki

-----

Sophie's glider touched down softly in an abandoned landing space, far away from prying eyes, just as Dino had suggested. After a moment, the single door opened, and Sophie, Mor, and Mirage emerged, the latter one crawling out invisible, suspicious of the new location. The trio waited for a while, Mor and Sophie walking a few steps to rid themselves of the stiffness extended glider travel brings with it, while Mirage was sniffing around, making itself familiar with the new surroundings. They didn't need to wait long, though. Soon, the familiar shapes of Dino and Morokhan appeared, walking side by side.

Morokhan waved to his family and hastened his step, quickly embracing his wife and giving her a kiss before smiling at Mor. Dino, on the other hand, continued his leisurely pace and let the family exchange their greetings first before he needed to interrupt the reunion with his matters.

"Hello, Mor." The prince said after closing the distance. It's good to see you back in good health."

"Thank you, Dino," Mor said with a slight smile.

"Sorry for not staying, but everyone had matters to attend to." Dino apologized for their departure while Mor was occupied with the Ice-kin trial.

"Don't apologize, " Mor said. "True, I was a bit put out after Mom told me everyone had left, but she explained it, and I understood."

Morokhan raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at Sophie after noticing that Mor had called her mom instead of mother like he normally did. His wife interpreted his silent question and gave him a satisfied smile, which Morokhan returned with a slight shrug.

"Are the others still busy?" Mor asked, looking for his friends.

"Indeed," Dino answered. "Orth is training his team right now, with the tips you gave him. It's incredible how they are evolving. Saphine is working hard to take over as the next head of the Sapphire family after her brother was drawn into quite a commotion. On the other hand, Clare shows a knack for politicking and discussing a reformation of the training for future healers with the heir to the Celestite family. Quite a capable young man, I must say. And well, Tiara is learning and practicing for her final school year."

Mor listened to Dino's explanations and then nodded. "Too bad, I wanted to introduce them to Mirage."

Mor fished around on the ground, getting confused looks from Morokhan and Dino, but the one he was searching for noticed, and Mirage's cold snout touched Mor's hand, making the boy's face light up. He held out his arms, and Mirage clambered into Mor's hold. When the boy stood back up, it looked to Dino and Morokhan like he held something invisible, which was correct.

"Mirage is a little shy, so he, she? Huh, I never checked. Anyway, Mirage is invisible right now." Mor finished.

°He.° The human added. °I checked.°

"You have an invisible monstrosity in your arms?" Dino asked, confused, while Morokhan just chuckled.

"He did ask you, and I talked it through with Sophie," Morokhan said, then slowly inched his hand closer to the invisible beast, his hand carefully inching closer while his pulse rose, the fear ingrained by their upbringing making itself visible. Morokhan's shaking hand touched something soft, and he flinched back when something slightly wet licked at his palm.

"That I need to get used to." He said with a sigh.

"Don't be like that." Sophie admonished her husband. "Mirage is cute and friendly."

"And not dangerous at all." Mor quickly added.

"May I?" Dino asked, and Mor nodded.

When Dino stretched out his hand, just as nervous as Morokhan before him, something unexpected happened. From the invisible creature in Mor's arms came a little growl, and Dino suddenly came face to face with a monstrosity he had never seen before. The giant black raptor-like creature appeared out of thin air, literally, as Mirage conjured up the image of the monstrosity, dropping his invisibility in turn.

Dino jumped back in surprise and landed on his ass with all the grace a clumsy Soul-kin was able to muster. Sophie and Morokhan looked at Mirage in shock, while Mor, unaffected by the illusion, looked confused. However, when Dino's butt hit the ground, the illusion vanished. One might interpret the wagging tails and slightly open mouth, in combination with some triumphant jips, from Mirage as a sign of amusement, but it could also just be a method for the little beast to cope with getting close to an unfamiliar-smelling person.

"Are you ok?" Mor asked, concerned, while the human laughed.

Before Dino could answer, though, Sophie let out an amused chuckle that grew to full-on laughter, and after a moment, everyone joined in. Mirage tilted his head, and his tails wagged a bit harder at the joy of the kin.

"That was a surprise." Dino chuckled. "I did not expect such a powerful illusion, but I guess he is quite small for a monstrosity."

"Mirage is no monstrosity." Mor corrected. "He's a magical beast."

"Where's the difference?" Morokhan asked.

"As far as I know, magical beasts are the normal state for monstrosities, but when there was trouble with the magic, they went berserk. However, now that the magic is returning to normal, the next generation of beasts is also regressing. They are more intelligent and, therefore, can be more dangerous than regular monstrosities. However, there can also be ones like Mirage, who is normally very docile." Mor explained, then looked down in puzzlement.

"Except when he wants to scare off a scary-looking person like Dino." Morokhan joked, getting a flat look from the prince.

"Anyway," Dino said. "You are responsible for it. If it hurts someone, you will be the one getting punished."

"I know, but Mirage wouldn't do that," Mor said. "Right, little guy?"

Mirage looked at Mor and gave a sneezing nod as if agreeing.

"Now that I have made that clear again, let's get to the important stuff," Dino said with a sideglance from Morokhan.

"I still have not revealed the true extent to how one might change their body. So you can't walk around like you please."

Mor frowned at that but decided to keep quiet until Dino had finished. He was leaving the complaining to the human.

"Because someone coming back from the dead would raise suspicion, we will introduce you as a new bodyguard and liaison from the Ice-kin. With your ties to them, you are exactly that." Dino explained.

"This will also put you in the fortunate situation to keep your little beast because such strangeness is expected from Ice-kin barbarians. After all, they eat monstrosities, so joining in hunting for food is not too outlandish a thought."

°Right. Food. I guess it's back to nuts and veggies.°  The human grumbled, already missing steak.

°It's not that bad. I rather look forward to eating normal food.° Mor said.

°But the gains! The protein!° The human exclaimed.

°We will find a way, asking, for example.° Mor said.

"With this out of the way, welcome home, Mor." Dino finished. "Take it slow. You have been gone a long time."

"Well. I also have something to tell you. I need to contact the Shadow-kin." Mor stated, not beating around the bush.

"What?!" Dino and Morokhan exclaimed simultaneously.

"Some things happened, and I met someone," Mor said.

"Did you just say you want to meet the Shadow-kin? Those murderers and thieves?" Dino asked.

"Absolutely not!" Morokhan added.

Mor gave them both a flat look until they remembered that Mor had already been involved in killing two Shadow-kin. And the two men took a deep breath.

"Think it over, Mor," Morokhan said, looking to his wife for support, but then he was surprised that he got none. Instead, Sophie came down on Mor's side of the argument.

"Listen to your son," Sophie stated.

"I need to verify an information source," Mor said. "And the fastest way is to talk to the Shadow-kin. If my source is trustworthy, we need all the kin we can get." Mor said.

"Because she told me the First is back."

Dino looked at Mor as if he just turned green and hopped around on four legs.

"That's a rumor. We had thought it possible, but it never appeared again. The more likely explanation for the Stone-kin's tragedy is a natural accident. Maybe the magic reacted to something they did." Dino said, but Mor shook his head slightly.

"That's why I need to talk to them," Mor said again.

Dino let out a sigh. "Then we need to talk to my father because Lord Ruby will be the last one likely to help you."

This month’s next story update is a return to The Serpent’s Garden, and Red One’s first contact with the Calnian Hegemony, a peaceful, extremely advanced star nation that she will be happy to see burned to the ground. I guess that’s a spoiler, but only if you haven’t read any of The Last Angel (and why not?). In this chapter, the first face to faceplate meeting of Hegemony officials and Red One continues with some awkward introductions, a snippet of which can be found below.

For the full chapter and story, check out the links above and enjoy!

~

“At present, I have encountered eighty-six extinct and extant technologically advanced sapient species,” the machine answered. “Including those species designated,” she used a term whose individual words Iljta-Risan recognized, but whose meaning he did not understand: blind sight. Another brief pause. “Now eighty-seven.”

Iljta bobbed his head in a nod of understanding. Eighty-six. The explorer in him wanted to barrage his host with questions. How many extinct species? What had happened to them? What were the living species like? How advanced were they, how far had they spread? Had they unlocked the secrets of the rip for faster-than light travel, or did they crawl across the stars in generation and sleeper ships? What was this ‘blind sight’ Red One had mentioned?

That sudden rush of curiousity was almost overwhelming, but the cardinal overseer was mindful of the reason for this meeting. Not everything could be answered or explored right now. Those questions and doubtless many more yet to arise would have to wait. This was still the moment of their introduction, when both sides would learn the most about each other, and he couldn’t let himself become distracted. He glanced around the massive, open hangar, suddenly realizing how truly lifeless it was. There was no movement in the bay at all. A pair of what the overseer took to be bipedal cargo lifters, each nearly as tall as a shuttle, stood against the farthest wall, ready to be called to service. There was no sign of anything else that he could even guess could have been a living being. “Do you have a crew?”

“No,” the machine answered. Though its voice was artificial, there was emotion there. It even sounded genuine, though he couldn’t have said whether it was, or merely a simulacrum. “The last member of my crew died recently. I am alone now.”

“What is your purpose?” Nanil-Wanlei abruptly interjected. Iljta-Risan’s tail twitched sharply as he turned his head to regard his underling.

“Hierarch.” the tone of his simple use of her rank was a quiet, but firm reprimand for the breach in protocol, but Iljta-Risan did not go farther. Yet.

One of the machines turned its featureless face towards the woman. Each of them stood half a head taller than the hierarch. “You’ve scanned me,” the synth answered her. “You’ve seen me. You’ve accepted my gift. What do you imagine my purpose is?”

The woman looked to Iljta-Risan, accepting the rebuke and giving him the opportunity to respond. Perfectly polite, as ever. He glanced away from Nanil-Wanlei, back to the trio of faceless machines. Like their host’s nature, the answer was plain for all to see, but just like that nature, it needed to be said aloud so that there could be no possibility of misunderstanding. “War,” he said. “Your purpose is war.”

~

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“Colonel Hackett, it is a warm welcome to meet once again. If you do not recall, we were part of the same USAM training exercise in Australia in 2062.

I am thrilled that your Minutemen are thriving in this new conflict, as you modeled them off my Royal Special Commandos. Typical Yanks take what we created and claim it as their own idea. Regardless, His Majesty is ready to face these lollipops in battle.

With all things considered, I heard what happened to one of your Combat Fire Teams, Comanche. I have a team on a training recon mission in the field. My Redcoats RSC team will redeploy and rendezvous with your Minutemen rescue teams. In addition, I will send my teams to fill in the ranks you had to abandon until the operation is complete.” – Colonel Cooper Weston

March, 10th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Hiplose Forest, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

The Templar, Natilite, looked out through the camouflage netting tent, staring out toward the highway toward Salva. Hundreds of Aristocracy and other allied City-State soldiers were on the march.

"It looks like a battalion strength," Forest said as he looked through his DMR scope.

"And we almost got caught with our pants down," Higgins said.

"It is why I wear a skirt." Natilite saw the two men slowly look toward her before looking at each other. She could only giggle, enjoying toying with them. For energetic people, she found that they get shy quickly with a bit of pushback.

"I don't know how to respond," Higgins said.

“Ohhh…, I do,” Wallace cheeky said.

Natilite rolled her eyes and slightly giggled. “That is why it is wise not to." She then looked back toward the marching Section; she understood how correct Charlie Higgins was.

Comanche was driving directly into the Aristocracy Section and only noticed them after launching one of their drones. This allowed them to drive off the road and set up camouflage tents to hide. So far, it has worked as the enemy continued marching toward their objective.

"This is taking way too long," Natilite mumbled.

"Don't worry," Forest said.

She looked at the Staff Sergeant with confusion. Their leader had been taken and stuck until the enemy convoy passed. "How could you not be worried?"

"Simple," Forest said. "Cannot worry about what you cannot control."

"Tell that to Gonzales," Higgins said. "He is still punishing himself."

Taking a deep breath, Natilite turned and saw the Filipino member of the Comanche, Marcos Gonzales. It amazed her that the Altaerrie were one species; they had far more diverse pigments than usual. While this was common in Alagore, it was not to this degree. From what her new comrades said, the United States was a settler nation where people from all corners of the world had migrated to their country.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Natilite stood but still needed to lower her profile because of the net. She slowly walked toward the team medic and kneeled by his side. She could see he still blamed himself for losing their captain under his watch. It was a feeling she could relate.

The Templar sat down and flexed her right wings. "Do you mind checking my wing? It feels stiff."

"I can do it." Gonzales stopped what he was doing and analyzed her wing before replacing one of the patches. "I…, I…, don't understand what you are doing."

"I understand what you are feeling," Natilite said. "We have all told you it was not your fault; however, none matters, and you know that. It happened when you were supposed to be protecting us. It happened moments after I was with him, so I am equally at fault."

"There is a difference," Gonzales said. "Those Knights took me out without trying. I am supposed to be the best of the best, and just like that, they knocked me out cold with magic. It is humiliating."

The Templar frowned as she understood the meaning of humiliating but forced herself to smile. "Just as humiliation being stripped naked and chained in a cell for a month. Allowing every man to gaze upon my body?"

Gonzales had a horrific look in his eyes before closing them. "I apologize. I was not trying to."

Natilite held his hands tighter and said, "Not my intent. While that was a dark moment, I thank our Goddess Mother that I am still alive. I want to continue to influence and guide everyone toward the future. Now, with you, those Knights could have killed you but didn't. Now, your God has allowed you to redeem yourself."

The medic took a deep breath and said, "I hate saying it; I don't believe there is a god."

While this was not the first time in her life that she encountered an unfaithful person, she still found the response strange. While she understood little of the Altaerrie religion, this did not deflect her from her intentions. She decided not to push her values onto the man and chose a different path to aid him in gaining clarity. "Now, Sergeant, it would be wise to perform your duty until the task is accomplished." The Valkyrie walked away, heading toward the Comanche acting commander, Warrant Officer 1 Rommel King.

The Templar saw the Warrant Officer sitting on the ground with Sergeant Benjamin Ford and Sergeant First Class Gregory Barrett. The three men were staring at their laptops, talking about something. Ford was the one operating the computer while Barratt was taking notes.

On the screen, soldiers were marching in file; between the Sections, the mana-battery troop's transport and some officers were riding horses.

"What is happening, boys?" Natilite asked.

"Recording what the enemy has," King said.

"How so?"

"I am controlling a SmallDog," Ford said. "It is a small quadruped drone the size of a pet."

Impressed by the operation, Natilite leaned over their shoulders and watched the laptop screen. On it was a box with the video feed from the dog-like drone. "I see. It is like a Crawler but less nimble."

Ford turned to the Valkryie with a shocked look. "I take offense to that."

"Sorry," Natilite said. "It is a cute little death machine."

"Thank you."

"Are you not worried that the enemy will spot it?"

"Not really," Ford said. "I am not getting too close, hiding behind some bush."

"What have you seen so far?" Natilite asked. "Anything of note?"

"Actually, yes," Barrett said. "We saw a few of these passing by. I noted several different models, but the overall design was the same. They look like some troop carrier, but they look like skeletons in nature."

Leaning into the image on the screen, the weapon platform the Sergeant First Class was talking about was about. The front part of the vehicle was bulky, hosting the batteries, and the driver sat on top like a wagon, controlling the car with an orb. The other half was what Barrett was talking about. Having a flatbed, a large single bar hovered above the flatbed with supporting beams that made up the frame – the overall design was like a spine with ribs wrapping around.

"It is a Wagonette," Natilite said. "It is a type of self-propelled cart used to transport troops and supplies or as a mobile ballista, like your Archers."

"Why is there little armor on it?" King asked. "For a people who value heavy armor, this surprises me."

"You can install heavy armor on it," Natilite said. "The reason for the open frame is for the swordsmen. When they load into the cart, they place their shields between the frames. That protects while riding, and their shield is already in the protective position when it is time to exit."

"Interesting," Barrett said.

Ford chuckled as he stared at the design. "It sounds module in nature."

Barrett said, "Don't tell the Army that. Or they will buy a thousand of them."

"What kind of tactics do they use these for?" King asked. You said they use them to transport swordsmen?"

"Not just them," Natalie said. That was the original intent, but the carts have evolved since then. As you know, marching across the battlefield makes you an easy target. Generals use these to quickly move elite warriors across the battle, storm a city, flank, or break up an enemy position. Some have specialized rams to break apart fortifications, while others have a ballista like your IFVs. But that does not mean ranged soldiers cannot use them."

"Interesting," Barrett said. "Why are there horses?"

"Why not? Carts like these are expensive and require lots of wealth and labor. I take it mechanization is common in your world?"

"That is correct. About a hundred and fifty years ago, we stopped using horses during the First World War. Some people used them during the Second World War, mainly in the rear. Your people are in your version of a transition phase like ours."

"If you say so.

"Sarge," Ford said. "It is hard to tell, but it seems we are reaching the end of the enemy formation."

"It could be a gap," King said. "Keep an eye on it. If nothing appears in the next thirty minutes, we will leave."

"Then let's hope," Natilite said.

March, 10th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Fortress city of Forlace, Verliance Aristocracy

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Hearing a scream echo through the hallway, Assiaya knew where it came from. It came from her master's private sparing room, where he played with a new toy. She knew about the captured prisoner enjoying his fun with the man.

What bewildered the dual-eye slave girl was that her master took a particular interest in this Altaerrie man. She had seen many prisoners from their world pass through recently, and Kallem only took a slight interest in them, not to the point where he would have a personal duel. Something must have happened for him to go to this length to punish this soldier.

Assiaya walked through the halls, carrying a small bucket filled with water. She noticed the Head Maid standing beside the sparing room door, looking impatient. "I am here, Miss Roath."

The Kitsune stared at the little girl, arms crossed. "What took you?"

"I apologize," Assiaya said. "The bucket was heavy…, and my shoulder still hurts."

Roath shook her head but then cracked a smile. "I understand your shoulder hurts, but you can never show weakness here. You must learn to bear the pain."

"But it is illegal to harm motuia's," Assiaya said.

"Which you are not, so you are not protected by those laws," Roath said. "While Kallem might have protected you, he cannot be everywhere, and others will always seek to take advantage of his blind spot. For some reason, Kallem chooses to have you as his slave, not a motuia of the royal staff. That decision protects you, as most would never dare touch his property. However, it has also made you a target."

The memory was still fresh from being assaulted by her master's son. The relationship between father and son has deteriorated deeply, far more than she expected. However, there was a feeling that there was something more at play.

Assiaya nodded as she still felt the teeth on her shoulder. The feeling of blood draining seemed like her life was being sucked away, an experience she still couldn't fully understand.

Seeing that the young slave girl was in distress, Roath kneeled and placed her hand on the healthy shoulder. "Look, Assiaya, when I was young, I also was a young slave about your age to a cural and unforgiving lord. I had to bear many burdens and pain. Still, one day, he granted me a motuia position as a servant because I remained loyal and determined. From there, I was able to learn the craft until I became the head of his entire staff. I am hard because I have to keep all of you maids strong. You must remain strong; one day, your opportunity will come."

The slave girl bottled up her emotions as she struggled to regain her posture. She had heard this lecture before. In the past, she accepted that this life was her future. Still, in recent days, she no longer believed she would survive long enough to become an indentured servant as she remembered seeing the priestess within her memories.

"I understand," Assiaya said. If Ere-hian attacks me again, should I accept it? Should I inform my master?"

"Lord Ere-hian," Roath corrected.

"Yes, Head Maid. Lord Ere-hian."

"It is not our place to get into domestic affairs between father and son. Leave the matter to me, as we must be careful what we say. As I said, the boy was not trying to kill you but unleashing his youthful anger. The Lord is young, eager, and trapped at home while his father is away from war. From what it sounds like, this will be a long war, and Kallem will no longer be able to protect you from the ones who hate your kind. You must be strong at every opportunity, or they will take advantage of you.

"Do not ask questions. Please. Not on this subject."

"But I want to know," Assiaya replied.

"You keep getting hurt because you ask questions. Roath is trying to tell you to keep your head down."

Angry with the voice, Assiaya looked into the Head Maid's eyes. "What do you think of the Altaerrie?"

"How many times I must tell you, politics is beyond us," Roath said. "You must keep your ears down and mouth silent. You must be in the background and can only move around freely. Ere-hian and the others notice you because you keep drawing attention to yourself."

"I try, but everyone notices me regardless of what I do. Everyone knows I do not belong here, and my eyes draw attention."

Roath nodded and patted the slave girl on the head. "True. Do not worry; you will find your strength."

The door opened, and a vampire stood in front of them. "Our Lord requests your presence."

"Okay," Assiaya said. She took a deep breath as she remembered the priestess's memory. "Head Maid. There is one more thing I want to mention."

"You talk too much," Roath said. "Speak, but make it quick."

The slave girl nodded and took a breath. "I think the reason why Lord Ere-hian attacked me was because the Unity Priestess manipulated him to do so."

To Assiaya's surprise, Roath said nothing. The gray, white Kitsune focused on her gold and blue eyes as if she were reading her mind.

The Kitsune then stood and adjusted her clothing as if she decided on something. "As I said, do not speak of this. Now, we must go."

Seeing the Head Maid open the door, Assiaya gripped the bucket handle and followed the Kitsune into the room. She had been in this dojo-type chamber multiple times, usually to provide towels for her master during training. This was usually during sports or sparring with friends; however, he had never brought an enemy here.

She first saw a shirtless Lat-like Altaerrie male in a melee sparring match. The man had white skin, like the others she had witnessed before. His hair was brown with gray eyes. The man had a soldier's frame, showing he took training seriously, but nothing compared to the Vampire. She noted a tattoo on his shoulder: a helmet above a shield with three small arrows pointing up.

The sparing match continued with Kallem launching a powerful attack against the Altaerrie man. The man blocked the strike with his arm, which left a dark bruise; however, he used his free arm and thrust a sucker punch. When her master felt the hit, it only left a minor bruise on his cleft solid chin.

Kallem seemed amused by the sneak attack but was unfazed. The next thing Assiaya saw was the man being lifted and tossed the Altaerrie across the room. The man rolled and stopped, face down.

"I guess the Altaerrie are not as tough as everyone thought."

"Do not say that," Assiaya said as the man was tossed against the wall. "But…, maybe you are correct. I was hoping they might be different but…, I no longer know."

Kallem stood, staring at the man as he lay there, catching his breath. "When you are not hiding behind your armored suit, you are nothing but a man. Weak, inferior, and valuable. Do you believe you can come here to my world and change the fate of the Cosmos? And yet, you are nothing but an empty shell behind the hardware."

"Never truer words, my Lord," Roath said.

Assiaya saw her master approach, so she prepared the wet towel and handed it to him so he could dry off the sweat and blood. She could see the sense of satisfaction in his manner. His eyes were filled with pride, as if he resolved some internal issue.

"Assiaya, look."

Confused by the voice, Assiaya looked past her master and saw the Altaerrie man slowly getting onto his feet. He was struggling to stand but ignored the pain. The right eye was black, with cuts and blood patched around his body. The man looked exhausted, but she noticed the look of defiance in his eyes.

For her, a renewed spirit filled her body, seeing the defiance from the man.

Kallem noticed Assiaya's reaction and turned, noticing the man.

"Kallem," the man said in a tired voice. "I heard no bell."

While Assiaya never heard the phrase before, she quickly understood the meaning. While battered, he was not willing to give up. Looking toward her master, she saw that look of pride and accomplishment was gone and only anger and frustration.

"I believe our master is trying to break him."

"I agree with you," Assiaya responded.

Kallem respectfully handed the wet towel to Assiaya, who put it into the bucket to be washed and strained. "You might have the warrior spirit of a Lat, but your annoyance is beyond a J'avais."

The man started laughing before coughing from struggling to breathe. "Nicest thing you said all day."

Taking a step back to avoid getting caught up in their sparring match, Assiaya watched. As the fight unfolded, she could tell her master had the advantage in talent and raw strength in comparison. She had seen him often having such matches, in which rarely the opponent stood a challenge. The difference this time was that those were friendly within his inner circle. At the same time, this one seemed more of a personal rivalry, almost like her master was trying to prove something.

However, as she watched the Altaerrie man slowly lose the match, she couldn't understand why he wouldn't surrender. He gained no benefit from continuing the fight as if he was insane.

"Do you think he wants to die?"

"I do not know," Assiaya thought. "But it is angering our master."

"Hmm."

Within moments, the fight was over. The Altaerrie man was on the ground, this time on his back, as he caught his breath—a fresh bruise on his chest.

A Vampire woman sitting on a chair in the corner put a book and approached the mat. The woman wore a modified priestess dress with the Tekali theme removed and replaced with the Katra.

When Assiaya got a better view, the woman looked annoyed, as if she had been here all day and was bored. She couldn't blame the woman; if she had to watch men fight pointlessly, she would have gotten bored. The Temple trains and provides Intellectuia Mages; when it comes to mind reading, Kallem prefers females. While the dual-eye girl does not fully understand why, it has something to do with the fact that females are naturally better prepared to manipulate the male mind.

The woman then kneeled next to the Altaerrie man and placed her hand on his head, using mind-reading magic. However, Kallem stopped her.

"Not this time," Kallem said.

The Vampire woman stood with annoyance. "This is the third time you stopped me. I thought I was here to read his weak mind for information."

"Celeste," Kallem said. "I said if I defeat him. Not beat him."

Celeste stood. "The man is on the ground, barely alive. What difference is there in the meaning? But, as you command, My Lord."

"You can go, Celeste," Kallem said. "I will summon you when I finally defeat the Altaerrie."

The Mage bowed before walking out of the room.

"I will never understand these humans," Roath said. "They never know when to give up."

"I think Roath has a point. At this rate, Kallem will kill him."

"I disagree with you two," Assiaya said.

"What was that?" Roath asked as she turned toward the slave girl. "What two?"

Assiaya turned to the Head Maid, realizing she had spoken out loud. With a nervous tone, she said, "Kallem is losing the fight, I think. While our Lord can beat the Altaerrie man to death, he cannot break his spirit to fight. That is why Kallem is angry."

"As I said before, you pay too much attention to detail," Roath smirked and returned to the fight.

The Altaerrie slowly sat up, leaning on one arm as he struggled to breathe. Kallem approached and kicked him in the chest, providing the final blow and ending the match.

Assiaya saw Kallem staring down at the man with a frustrated look. He then turned and headed toward the door. She handed him the towel her master took, wiping off the sweat.

"Roath," Kallem said. "Patch him up and then give him the potion."

"Yes, my Lord," Roath said. "Are you sure about the healing potion? I was led to believe that he’s a prisoner?"

"You heard what I said," Kallem said before leaving.

Assiaya looked toward the Vampire. The guard chained the man's arms and then lifted him to the hook hanging from the ceiling. The Altaerrie man embraced, his feet dangling a few inches from the ground. The guard then took the translation amulet and left.

"Why does he want to give a prisoner a healing potion?" Assiaya asked.

"Because he wants to break him before killing him, as you said before. At least, that is what I assume."

"Why bother?" Assiaya pondered.

"I do not know. It is a male pride thing. You will need to learn to deal with it, even if it makes no sense. However, if true, Kallem will kill him soon."

Seeing the Head Maid heading toward the unconscious man, which the slave girl followed.

Roath placed a healing potion box on the nearby table and approached the man. "I need a rag. There is a lot of blood, and we must clean the wounds before administering the potion."

"Why not just give him the potion?" Assiaya asked. "I thought a healing potion heals wounds."

"They do," Roath said. "But you need to clean the wound first to prevent infection before administering it. While the potion speeds the healing process, the effects do not last forever. If the body is not properly prepared, the accelerated healing effects could become a danger to the body. While the exterior might seem healed, the interior will become rotten if not treated properly beforehand. You will need to learn this when as a maid."

Roath handed the bloody cloth to the slave girl before taking a bottle of cream and spreading it over the wound. As the Kitsune filled the scars with the green cream, the men shook and coughed before awaking. This startled the older Kitsune, who backed away with fear.

Assisya found the sight silly, seeing her usual well-disciplined boss scared. Seeing the Head Maid's frown, she turned to the man, shocked that he was still conscious. They noticed her and then winked before coughing again.

"Lats," Roath said. She then walked away toward the table and pulled out a red healing potion before coming back.

The man looked around as he tried to see what was happening. "Where is the purple princess? I got a score to settle."

"They took away the translation amulet," Roath said. "I do not understand what you said to be quiet."

Assiaya giggled. "He was not whining. He called Kallem a purple princess."

"Do not say that!"

Realizing the voice in her head was correct, Assiaya saw the Head Maid staring at her, almost as if she was reading her soul. She lowered her head and washed the blood off the cloth.

"Now, how would a little slave girl understand what the enemy said.?" Roath asked.

"Tell her that you heard other Altaerrie use similar phrases."

"Okay." Assiaya then realized she had spoken loudly again. "When I was around the other Altaerrie prisoners, I heard one of them calling a vampire that."

Roath glared at the young slave girl, almost as if she knew she was lying. The Kitsune even noticed the Altaerrie man glancing toward her as if he understood some elements of what she said.

"I see," Roath said before turning back to the man. "As I said, you listen too much."

Roath grabbed the weak man's chin and forced it to open. She then poured the healing potion into his mouth.

Once the potion was empty, the Head Maid let go of him, and the man coughed.

"It will take some time," Roath said. "By tomorrow, you will be good as new for our Lord to fight."

The Kitsune turned and headed toward the door.

Assiaya grabbed the bucket, but she heard the man mumble something before she left. She stopped and turned to him. The man looked exhausted as he hung from the ceiling but forced a smile.

"Preparing me for round two," the man said as he struggled to talk. "Challenged accept." He then looked toward her and winked, making her blush and turn away.

While the voice mentioned that this man was insane and wondered if Altaerrie had a death wish, Assiaya felt safe, something she had never felt before. She had no idea why but felt that something was different.

Before she could reflect, the slave girl heard her boss call her name. She took the bucket and walked away.

It’s not a series!

“It’s not a series, though.” The alien with the three stalk eyes argued for an uncounted time.

“But it is! The main character is basically in all the episodes and they build on each other so there is a clear order!” The fat alien sat across from the first one argued again. His skin became redder by the minute.

“But the producers say it’s not! And you can totally just watch them out of order!” The three eyed one screamed squeaking.

“It. Is. Not. A. Series.” The tomato red alien shouted with his wide mouth pointing accusingly at his brown opponent.

The other people in the diner watched in anticipation or tried to be done as fast as possible. Especially the tables next to the two arguing aliens vacated as spit and ever more rude words began to fly.

“Fuck you!” the red one shouted and made rude gestures with his hands.

Then the brown one flipped his tray in the red one's face. The red one sputtered with a toast clinging to the top of his rather flat head. He regained his composure really fast and furiously pushed the table to squeeze his opponent.

The table was pushed with such force against a light target that the hit knocked over the chair of the assailed knocking its occupant to the ground.

Both fighters were temporarily stumped. With a shriek the stalk eyed got up and tackled the red one to the ground instead. The red one freed himself and made some distance before resorting to throwing spices and napkins.

Before being hit the stalks retreated to protect the eyes and the alien scrambled to get some projectiles himself to throw in a general direction as his vision was impaired.

As the chaos escalated the owner came out from the kitchen and approached the single human patron in his diner.

He sat at the end of the counter and watched the fight sipping some lemonade.

“Hey mister!” the owner approached him “How about you stop ’em before others join the fun?”

“Hmm.” The human slightly tilted his head inquisitively

“You get eggs and bacon if you stop them without breaking anything.” The owner offered rubbing his lower arms.

“Scrambled eggs and toast.” The human answered.

“Sure, sure just stop ‘em!” the owner readily agreed.

The human put down his drink and walked over to the two fighters. Some people in the crowd anticipated a grand match while others decided against joining the fight.

The human grabbed the stalk eyed one on his collar and lifted him of the red one and said:

“Stop fighting. It’s a series of standalone episodes. So stop arguing you are both right.”

The aliens stared at each other and then at the chaos around them and then at the calm human, who was right. Then they both nodded. The human sat the one he was holding back down and returned to his seat at the counter waiting for his eggs and toast.

He was positively surprised as there was bacon and even some cheese on the side. He thanked the owner and dug in while the two rowdies apologized and started cleaning in the background.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Authors note:

This is a challenge pioneered by u/LukeWasNotHere.

Basically it's about writhing 30 conected one shots, one each day for 30 days.

So here goes nothing.

Day 01/30

As always: Thanks for reading!

Ginz’s fingers gleamed with mana. The iron ingot in his hands heated until it became soft like putty. He tore off a small portion of metal and molded it into a short cylinder. Then, he squashed it and started again. Three times, Ginz kneaded the iron until he was satisfied with the result. He summoned a mana caliper out of thin air and measured the base diameter before working the tip. Ginz’s eyes were lost in space as if he were looking at an invisible System prompt, and he grinned. Finally, he doodled a rough sketch on one of the few pieces of paper.

Ilya and I leaned over the table, but it was hard to make sense of the drawing.

Ammunition. [Identify] A projectile made of iron. Enchantment threshold: 200.

The enchantment threshold of the bullet was too small to accommodate a Vampiric rune, even with the iron affinity.

“Ginz?” I asked.

“Cooking,” he replied.

Ginz grabbed a Ghoul bone the orc craftsmen had prepared. He measured with his mana caliper and cut a piece with a tiny mana scalpel. “It has a high toughness rating, but I doubt it will survive a shot. I could build a crumpling metal case to prevent the bone from shattering, but it will take time.

If the bone shattered, the Vampiric enchantment could misfire and render it useless.

I shook my head. “We don’t have time to spare. Penetration power isn’t our goal. We can reduce the bullet speed as much as necessary to preserve the enchantment,” I replied. “I can even add a Reinforcement spell if necessary.”

Too many variables were at play: enchantment threshold, material resistance, bullet speed, material availability, and production speed.

“Dude, I understood the assignment. Now let me cook,” Ginz said. “The Ghoul bone is our limiting agent. We can only produce bullets of a certain size. The iron tip should improve ballistics, and we can add a cap at the bottom so the force is applied evenly. That should help prevent unwanted explosions.”

For the next hour, we worked on a testing bench.

I devised a Force-User-Direction string for the ‘trigger’. I guessed that if I optimized the direction of the force, the enchantment would need to be less powerful. I enchanted a circular metal cap and used Bind to stick it to the test barrel. It wasn’t clear what would happen if Ginz welded an enchanted trigger to an unenchanted barrel. Malfunctioning enchantments were prone to explosion, so I chose the safest way.

While I worked on the enchantment, Ginz prepared the prototype bullets.

“Before you two shoot anything, let’s ensure nobody will be harmed,” Ilya said.

I exchanged glances with Ginz and knew neither of us had considered safety.

“I’ll enchant the tent’s wall,” I said.

“We should aim up, so in the worst case, the bullet would end outside the city,” Ginz added, promptly changing the configuration of the table.

Ilya massaged her temples.

After a while, we had everything ready. The barrel’s trigger-cap had a Force-User-Direction string fueled by a Recharge-Instantaneous power source. I toned down the Force rune to a 300 Mana Threshold out of 1500 just to be sure nothing would explode. Theoretically, the ‘explosion’ wouldn’t exert perpendicular force on the barrel, but the theory usually failed to describe real-life events with a hundred percent accuracy. I doubted there was much theory behind runeweaving, for starters.

Ginz’s bullet was a cylindric section of bone around three centimeters long with a diameter of about half a centimeter. A metal cap seamlessly merged into the bottom of the bullet. He hadn’t yet added the ballistic cap. It was heavier than I expected.

Ghoul Bone Ammunition. [Identify] A projectile made of the bones of a Ghoul. Enchantment threshold: 300.

The Enchantment threshold was surprisingly high for such a small piece, but the bullet would be useless if the trigger enchantment didn’t work.

We strapped the barrel onto the testing table. In front of the muzzle, we settled a layered safety net: my mana barrier, my shirt, Ginz’s shirt, an old rug, and the tent’s wall—every layer enchanted with the Reinforce rune. Ginz loaded the bullet from the front and pushed it down with a stick, and we hid behind a second mana barrier on the off chance the bone bullet ricocheted.

Everything was ready.

“Does your Reinforcement spell work?” Ginz asked.

“Activate the trigger enchantment,” I replied.

“I don’t trust your enchantments. You do it.”

Ilya hid behind Ginz.

I approached the barrel and channeled my mana into the circuit. I fed [Foresight] as much mana as I could. Time slowed down around me. Then, with a mere thought, I activated the trigger enchantment. A burst of blue sparks emerged from the muzzle, and an instant later, the bullet broke my mana shield, hit Ginz’s enchanted shirt, and fell to the tent’s floor. 

Nothing exploded. In fact, the shot was surprisingly silent, which made sense considering the lack of gunpowder.

“The bone is sturdier than I thought. It didn’t completely shatter,” Ginz said as he picked the bullet up from the floor.

A few fault lines crossed the bone, and I wondered if that would be enough for the Vampiric enchantment to misfire and explode. In the worst case, I could decrease the Force rune strength. With the lack of rifling, I expected our combat range to be at most a hundred meters. However, the lack of accuracy wasn’t the only factor. More distance would mean we would lose the ability to communicate. The weapon had to be reliable within a hundred meters. Everything else would be overkill.

“The bullet might require a Reinforcement rune, but that would deduct enchantment threshold I’d otherwise use for the Vampiric rune,” I said.

Ginz and Ilya nodded in agreement.

“Does the Vampiric rune even work if the bullet doesn’t stick? The Aias Sword and the Leechflame Sword have to stab a monster to drain their mana,” Ilya pointed out. 

“We should test that,” I said, working towards the testing area.

“We will not shoot you,” Ilya interrupted me.

“We won’t?” Ginz interjected.

I laughed. I wasn’t eager to get shot with an experimental weapon, but I was willing to take one for the team. Still shirtless, I went outside and dug in the ground until I found a suitable pebble. Then, I enchanted a Vampiric-Recharge-User-Instantaneous string. I kept the Vampiric rune at a low mana threshold, as I didn’t want to lose all my mana in a single test.

Back inside the tent, I gave Ilya the enchanted pebble.

“Activate the enchantment and hit me,” I said. Similarly to the bullet, the pebble would be in contact with me for an instant before falling to the ground.

Ilya smirked. I had forgotten that ten levels had doubled her strength. The pebble hit me in the chest, making me recoil. Before even feeling pain, a shiver ran down my spine as the enchantment drained mana from my body. The sensation was unpleasant, but [Foresight] caught the enchantment in slow motion. The pebble had continued draining from my mana pool even after the pebble bounced.

I rubbed my chest.

“Was it necessary to use so much force?” I asked.

“That was for almost dying against the Chrysalimorph,” Ilya replied with a fiendish grin. “Also, the faster the throw, the shorter the contact. Probably. It was for science.”

Ginz nodded approvingly.

“We might as well do a set of ten—no, a hundred throws! Otherwise, the sample would be too small,” he said.

Ilya recovered the pebble and charged it with mana. The tent's curtain door opened before she could throw it, and Dassyra appeared in the doorway. She was covered in blood, and there was a deep gash in her armor, but she was unharmed. It wasn’t her blood. Considering the lack of alarm, the monster incursion must’ve been mild. Her eyes glazed our testing bench in confusion. Ginz and I were still shirtless. That didn’t hinder Ginz’s charismatic merchant persona.

“You must be Chieftain Dassyra. Pleased to meet you. I’m Ginz the Craftsman, at your service,” he said with a well-practiced bow. “No wonder why our Wolfie has a really strong arm.”

Dassyra smiled and bowed back.

Was Ginz flirting with her? She checked all the boxes for the craftsman—tall, strong, mature. I expected him to go on an angry rant about the legality of kidnapping people. Instead, he guided Dassyra to the testing table and explained our work in his best door-to-door salesman voice.

Ilya made a gagging gesture.

Ginz was totally the kind of teacher who flirted with students’ moms.

“How much would it cost to acquire one of those?” Dassyra asked, her eyes shining with greed as he examined the barrel. I wondered how long she had been spying on us.

“We are not planning on mass-producing them,” I replied before Ginz could answer. “They are a survival tool we will use until we return to Farcrest. Then, we will destroy them. If nobles find out about guns, a dozen Januses would be knocking on our door, and I don’t plan on drawing more attention to the orphanage than necessary.”

Dassyra sighed. “If you don’t want them to get your stuff, you could shoot them.”

That was a very orcish solution to a problem that required way more finesse. Still, having a dozen guns hidden in the attic sounded like a great contingency plan if things took the wrong turn. I had promised myself not to be helpless anymore and would use every tool in my repertoire to keep up my word.

“Shame. We could’ve taken a few hundred golden pieces for each shooty gun and repeat business for the ammo.” Ginz said.

Dassyra raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to let Rob tell you what to do?”

I couldn’t believe she was trying such underhanded techniques.

“Ma’am, when Robert first arrived at the orphanage, he was concerned about raising his voice in front of the kids. He then ran an illegal potion operation under the Marquis's nose. Now, he is a kidnapper, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s planning murder as we speak. I’m not taking any chances.”

Ilya chucked the unactivated vampiric pebble at Ginz, making him flinch and swallow his words.

“They are too dangerous, Dassyra,” I said. “Imagine what this can do if it falls into the wrong hands.”

To my surprise, Dassyra nodded. “I’m kidding. I understand that not only the System can create Corruption. Power also corrupts. That is basic orc knowledge. Don’t worry. I’ll tell my warriors to keep their hands to themselves.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

Dassyra gave me an approving nod and said something along the lines of ‘That’s the orc way’. I hadn’t realized how much illegal stuff I had been doing lately. Luckily, Farcrest didn’t seem to have laws against nepotism because otherwise, my dealings with Prince Adrien also fell on the list of not-so-legal stuff. Undermining the ducal authority couldn’t be legal.

I wondered if I was being a good enough role model for the kids.

“Don’t look so dejected, Caretaker. Elincia likes bad boys,” Ginz said.

“Shut it,” I replied, grabbing my shirt from the testing area and putting it back on.

Dassyra removed her armor and left it on the back of a chair.

“I have news from outside the wall,” she said. “The orcs from the outer camp are organizing. They have chosen a circle of leaders and want to meet you.”

I grinned. Our display of power had bore fruit sooner than expected. Orcs rejected the System but were pragmatic at heart, so I expected them to bend the rules in the name of survival. It was a rough estimate, but the five of us had the same combat performance as twice the number of orc warriors, and we could defeat those monsters impervious to regular weapons.

“I’ll meet them by the end of the week,” I said. I’d continue helping them in the meantime, but the more we waited, the more they would be prone to meet my demands.

Ginz didn’t seem happy with the news.

“You got in trouble for meddling in noble affairs, and now you are trying to do the same with orcs? Unbelievable,” he said.

“Orcs don’t have nobility,” I replied, grabbing Ginz by the shoulders and pushing him back to the working bench. “And we need the safety net of a community. We will be kicked out of Umolo in ten days, so we need them as much as they need us. And don’t look at me like that. I’m planning to ship you back at Farcrest by then.”

Ginz seemed to relax.

We continued working on the enchanted rifle prototype. Thanks to Ginz's high-level Craftsmanship, our initial testing had been promising, but we needed a weapon capable of working indefinitely with little maintenance. Our final product had to be reliable and durable. Iron wasn’t the best material to keep out in the open, but it was the best we had without a Blacksmith, and orcs had very limited access to alloys due to their nomad customs. Plus, iron had an affinity to the Force rune.

Ginz tested several different bullet configurations. 

After a while, Firana, Zaon, and Wolf appeared at Dassyra’s tent. They were happy to see Ginz there, but Ilya pushed them outside before they could slow our work. Dassyra blew Wolf a kiss before they were thrown out. [Foresight] caught part of their conversation outside the tent. They left to see if the orc leatherworkers had finished the Ghoul armor.

“They have grown,” Ginz pointed out.

“I wonder,” I replied.

In a week, they had acquired a year’s worth of experience.

Ginz crafted a good number of different bullets—some made of bone alone, others a mix of bone and iron. There were bullets with metal tips and others with cases around the bone, but I warned Ginz against making an overly complex design. I wanted each kid to have enough ammunition if our stay in the Farlands exceeded my expectations. 

As far as I pushed [Foresight] to scout my memories, I couldn’t find anything to help us with mixed-materials bullets. My gut told me to sacrifice speed to prevent the bone part of the bullet from shattering, but I wanted to avoid excessive drop. Were faster bullets more precise even? Testing would tell us. 

While Ginz worked on the bullet prototype, I enchanted more ‘triggers’ following the Force-User-Direction formula but adjusting the Force rune threshold. The weaker, with a threshold of ten, the strongest, with as much as the iron pieces allowed me.

By noon, we had everything ready for a proper field test. Thanks to his skills, Ginz completed days worth of work in a few hours. The extent of the System’s power surprised me even after months of living in Farcrest. Without the System, not only would warriors be unable to fight monsters and keep the frontiers safe, but the whole economic system of Ebros would crumble in a week.

After Little One had prepared a simple lunch, Dassyra called her warriors, and we packed the working bench for a field test. The kids must’ve been busy with the orc leatherworkers because we exited Umolo without alerting them. Ginz wasn’t happy with leaving the wall, but the presence of Dassyra’s warriors calmed him enough to be dragged outside. No monsters were in sight, and only a small detachment of Greyfangs guarded the entrance.

“Don’t be a wuss, Craftsman. I’ve seen Rob put a sword through a Ghoul’s eye. You’ll be fine as long as we tag along,” Dassyra said.

“You don’t know the things he has put me through,” Ginz replied.

I didn't remember anything particularly dangerous and didn’t bother to have [Foresight] summarize it.

We walked north on a small road along the mountainside until Umolo was out of sight. Dassyra’s warriors helped us set the table facing the mountain about a hundred meters from a naked stone ridge and then scattered around to watch the surroundings. None of them seemed particularly curious about our endeavor.

“Let’s use the strongest trigger first.” Ginz grinned. “For science.”

“For science.” I grinned back, pulling a metal cap with a Force enchantment well above the material’s enchantment threshold. We had a few spare barrels, and I wondered what a full-strength Force rune could do.

Force Iron Shooter. [Identify] An enchanted iron shooter. Enchantment Threshold: 949/210. Status: Degrading.

I was surprised the System allowed me to enchant so far above the object’s enchantment threshold. That was a full-power Force rune, even if the mana threshold had been cut by half due to the rune's affinity with iron. I activated the Bind rune and stuck the cap to the barrel. In my mind, I heard Ilya’s voice warning me against the dangers of a misfiring enchantment.

“We should get behind something solid,” I said.

Dassyra nodded, and with a long whistle, she called the warriors. A moment later, they dragged a massive boulder near the test bench. A meter of solid rock seemed like good protection. I summoned my mana shield on top, just to be sure.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

Ginz and Dassyra nodded. I peeked over the boulder and channeled my mana into the enchanted trigger. Then, I activated the enchantment.

The explosion of blue sparks blinded me, and the detonation echoed against the mountain, a lot weaker than the shotgun but still louder than our first attempt back in the tent. We emerged from behind the boulder like a tribe of Neanderthals seeing lighting for the first time. My heart raced like the first time I launched fireworks with my father. We laughed.

The bullet was nowhere to be found, probably reduced to shreds, but the barrel and trigger had survived without apparent damage. I identified the enchanted trigger.

Force Iron Shooter. [Identify] An iron shooter whose enchantment had been permanently destroyed. Enchantment Threshold: 0/0. Status: Exhausted.

The circuit was dead.

“That was exciting, but let’s test a trigger with a quarter of that strength,” Ginz said.

“Agreed,” Dassyra replied.

I put the exhausted trigger in my pocket and grabbed the next. After an hour of testing, the most promising result was a low-power trigger with a tenth of the strength of the original—about 150 Mana Threshold out of 1500. On testing, the bullet still flew faster than the eye could follow, but it was weak enough not to shatter the Ghoul bone. We continued testing the rest of the triggers until we reached the 25 Mana Threshold trigger, just to be thorough. The drop of the 25 Mana Threshold trigger was too steep, even at a hundred meters, and the bullet was slow enough for a high-level combatant to dodge. The only advantage of the slower trigger was that it was harmless. Against all my recommendations, Dassyra tested it against one of her warriors. The bullet left a small red mark on the warrior’s abdomen, but he didn’t even recoil.

Dassyra could channel mana, but just enough to feed the enchantment a couple of shots.

Before sunset, we had selected both the trigger and the bullet design—the 150 Mana Threshold Force Iron Shooter and an elegant bullet of iron and bone that seemed to fly more accurately than the rest.

“Now, we need about four hundred rounds by Sunday. Is that good for you?” I said, examining the bullet. The body was made of bone with a metal cap to improve ballistics and a metal butt to make the force exerted over the bullet uniform. The bond between metal and bone was almost seamless, and when I used [Identify] on it, the skill recognized the bullet as a single object. 

I channeled my mana and engraved the enchantment on the bullet.

MDBC Bullet. [Identify] An enchanted bullet made of iron and the bones of a Ghoul, designed to combat monsters with impervious defenses, reanimated undead, and corporeal spirits. Enchantment threshold: 700/700. Status: Stable.

“MDBC?” I asked myself. I had played enough vehicle shooters during my teenage years to have an educated guess. “Mana Draining Ballistic Capped?”

New recipe achieved!

Updating Rune Encyclopedia.

MDBC Bullet added to the recipes tab.

We were breaking down the testing site and preparing to return to Umolo when [Foresight] tingled my brain—a strange shift in the forest behind us. Something had bypassed the orc’s vigilance. I turned around and examined the forest line.

“I know you are out there, Firana! Come out!” I called, grabbing the test barrel and loading the enchanted bullet. “If you don’t come out, I’m going to shoot you! It’s going to hurt!”

Ginz put a hand on the barrel. “What are you doing? You can’t shoot Firana!” 

I pushed his hand out of the way.

“It’s not Firana. She would’ve come out. Getting caught is part of the joke for her,” I whispered, aiming into the bush and channeling mana into the bullet. I felt the enchantment coming alive. “You better cover your eyes!” I shouted at the mysterious figure.

Someone moved through the forest, away from us. [Foresight] instantly showed me the trajectory. I fed the trigger, and with a small burst of blue sparks, I took the shot. The bullet found its mark, and the runner fell into a clump of dead ferns.

“Rob! What in the everloving System!” Ginz pulled the barrel out of my hands.

“Relax, it’s the weakest trigger. At worst, our friend there has mana exhaustion now,” I replied as the orcs surrounded the whining intruder.

A moment later, the warriors dragged Pyrrah out of the bushes. She was shivering, but other than that, she wasn’t harmed. 

“Did you kidnap Elincia too? And then shoot her?!” Ginz said in a panicked, high-pitched voice.

“That’s not Elincia.”

I used [Identify].

Pyrrah Snowdrop, Elf. [Identify] An elven warrior from the Kingdom of Tagabiria, previously the squire of Gilded Warrior Evindal. Her favorite weapon is the hammer. She likes to hunt frogs in the marshes. Doesn’t read a lot. It’s been a while since she was on a date, with good reason. Elincia’s lookalike. Status: Mana Exhaustion.

The bullet worked better than I had expected. Pyrrah was virtually out of commission.

“So, what an elven spy was doing in the thicket,” Dassyra asked, shedding her relaxed demeanor and turning into the stoic chieftain.

“I was asked to deliver a message,” Pyrra said, failing to control her chattering teeth.

“I don’t see how delivering a message involves spying on us,” Dassyra replied.

I had a feeling that this wasn’t the first time Pyrrah was caught spying today. She tried to respond, but the shivers were too strong. Instead, she extended her hand, a silver coin with the emblem of the Greyfangs carved on it. Dassyra’s eyes shot open.

“The Greyfangs were looking for you. They want Wolf to join their ranks,” Pyrra said.

_______

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-Sthalsh: Planet Xire: Time 0700

The morning started slow. Creature did not want to wake and it took Sthalsh a considerable amount of coaxing, with food and water, to get him to rise. Even after he was on his feet he walked slow and clumsy, like he was intoxicated with ferment. The little thing stretched and involuntarily opened its maw more than a few times. He was fighting sleep with every ounce of his little body. 

Although Sthalsh had already predicted this during the night when Creature woke him, tossing to and fro seemingly frustrated and unable to sleep. It was no surprise that he was tired that morning. Sthalsh made several notes on Creature’s behavior in his journal including the groaning, dark watery eyes, stumbling, and the maw opening. After he made some plain grain-based slop, commonly called glorup, he gave it to Creature to eat at the table and then sat on the couch with a cup of herbal drink. Creature was just tall enough to comfortably reach the table, and he plopped down behind his bowl of food to eat with his fingers. Twice he glanced at Sthalsh for no particular reason, but mostly, he stared into a void. Sthalsh wondered if he was thinking or if he was so consumed with his food that he lost his sense of reality. He would most likely never know. 

Sthalsh didn’t find any problem getting Creature into the skipper, and for that he was grateful. He had considered leashing him, but went against his better judgment and merely guided him to the vehicle. Once they were outside, the little thing looked around like he had never seen the sky before. Eyes glittering in the starlight, wide and full of wonder.  He breathed in a long breath, savoring the feeling in his lungs. 

Sthalsh had been watching Creature with pink ears and a soft smile until he noticed the three nasty signs shoved in his grass. He cursed and stomped over to them, ripping them out of the ground with all his might. Creature watched him with a scrunched face.

The ride over to the lab was uneventful. Sthalsh tried turning on the radio but an advertisement for Sthevian’s “all inclusive, brand new, wonderfully amazing” zoo was playing. Sthalsh snorted and immediately turned it off. ‘All new’ was a nicer way of saying ‘renovated so we’re just within regulations.’ He planned to make another visit and hopefully get them shut down for good. How the mayor allowed her son to run that place was beyond him, and he’d thoroughly ruffled her feathers about it on more than one occasion.

Sthalsh took the long way towards the back of the large rounded building to avoid as many writers as possible. He wasn’t sure how Creature would react to going back into the lab or if he would even realize where he was. This question did not go unanswered for very long, however. As Sthalsh pulled up, Creature tensed and all sense of his exhaustion was lost. His breathing quickened and Sthalsh worried the little thing would go into a panic like last starvoid. He placed one of his hands on his passenger’s shoulder and caressed it gently. Little brown eyes burrowed into his thin skin making him very uncomfortable. Creature’s look, or rather a gaze, was captivating yet disturbing. 

Five writers were eyeing them as Sthalsh parked the vehicle and soon it turned into nearly a hundred as the ones from the front simply came around back. His hands felt clammy on the steering wheel. Slowly he exited the skipper and walked around to the passenger side opening the door. Creature looked up at him worryingly and Sthalsh regretted not using a leash. A dense forest surrounded the entire town including the lab and it was populated with wild animals larger than Creature. He wouldn’t survive the night out there and this worried Sthalsh. His ears pulsed a brownish red.

Sthalsh reached for the little thing’s hand and grasped it firmly, guiding him out of the vehicle. Sthalsh was crouching next to the standing alien. Their attention was focused on the writers looming in front of the lab door with scene savers in hand. Sthalsh glanced at Creature and then rose to his feet, letting go of Creature’s hand simply because he couldn’t reach it. Sthalsh walked quickly towards the door and the writers swarmed him and Creature taking lots of scenes, blinding the both of them. 

Sthalsh answered none of their, simply put, awful questions. ‘Are you sleeping with the alien? How do your parents feel about you having an alien in your home? Is this the reason your partner left you?’ He might have answered them if they had a good question to ask, anything relating to Creature or his intellectual capacities. Sthalsh was surprised but extremely happy to see that Creature was following close behind him at a quick pace. He wondered how fast he could run if given the chance. The little thing pushed through the crowd with careful force while hands groped him all over his little body, pulling his hair, and caressing his arms.

“Do not touch him!” Sthalsh called out bending down to guide Creature away from curious hands. One of the nasty prats (spirits if he ever found out who it was he’d kill them) grabbed at his crotch at which point, Creature pushed back with so much force that a group of them fell back onto each other causing even more uproar. Sthalsh was too impressed to be frightened by this display of strength from the little thing. It was then Creature who was guiding Sthalsh through the sea of repcents holding tightly to his hand shoving people out of the way left and right. Sthalsh trilled loudly as he found his keys, and managed to open the door halfway. A few writers tried to close it, but Creature was having none of it. He yanked the door open with both hands using his whole body. Sthalsh still had one hand on the door and nearly toppled over with the rest of the writers. 

Once they were inside Sthalsh locked the door and looked down at Creature with red pulsating ears. The little thing sank to the floor and ran his little hands through his dark fur. Creature then opened his mouth revealing a cave of white teeth, and let out a bellow coming from the chest. It seemed almost involuntary and very similar to the emotional distress Sthalsh had witnessed two shuns ago. He knelt down to inspect him, concerned that he was injured or upset. This roaring rhythmic bellow attracted a lot of attention from nearby workers. Creature’s belly contracted with every noise it made but the eyes were dry, and the mouth was turned up in a smile. Laughter! Sthalsh trilled, (his form of laughter) once he realized and stood up, confident the little thing would follow him hither.

“I’m sorry we're a little late,” Sthalsh said, opening the door and allowing Creature to walk inside the room. This room was much less inviting than the observatory and although he probably didn’t remember it, it was the first room Creature was brought to. It was dark save for two bright lights over a tall long table on rollers in the middle of the room. Cabinets stocked with jars, filled with medical supplies, lined one wall while the other was lined with a short cabinet that ran the length of the wall littered with tools. A large sink was in the middle of it. Two tall chairs on wheels were also present although one was filled with a figure reading the shun’s paper. The chair swiveled around. “It's been 40 suttles,” said the figure. The figure was shrouded in a long black cloth jacket and had thick glass goggles resting just above the eyes. The figure placed the paper on the table and stepped into the light revealing himself to be Blat. 

“We had a rough night,” replied Sthalsh guiding Creature with a firm hand. The little thing had tensed up as soon as they entered the room. Sthalsh wished he could tell him exactly what they’d be doing and that no harm would come to him. “Come help me get him up on the table.”

Despite his size, Creature was dense and difficult to carry. Blat stepped over to Creature ignoring his glare. Sthalsh gripped the small thing under the arms and Blat placed his hands on the waist. Sthalsh looked at Blat, “Ready?” Blat nodded and they lifted, straining to get him off the ground. Blat’s hands were slipping so to get a better grip, he grabbed in between the legs. Creature, having already reached his crotch-grabbing limit for the shun, yelped and kicked Blat in the lower abdomen, (ironically hitting his gentiles, although Xander didn’t know that at the time.) 

Blat let go and doubled over in pain clutching at his guts. Sthalsh, not having the strength, fell with Creature to the floor. “Don't grab him there!” Sthalsh turned to see his companion on the floor groaning in pain. “You okay?”

“Never better!” Blat strained through grit teeth. “Oh spirits, I forgot! Spirits condemn me, he packs a punch.” he slowly rose to his feet still holding his abdomen and breathing a bit hard. Creature scowled at him. “He’s not gonna let me touch him now,” Blat said, slightly dejected. 

Sthalsh nodded. He patted the table trying to make him understand the objective. Creature looked up at him a little dumbly. He reached upwards barely making it past the halfway point. “Alright,” said Sthalsh crouching down and grabbing him under the arms. Sthalsh used all his might to lift Creature up and as soon as he was able, Creature grabbed hold of the table’s edge and hoisted himself up. 

It was (mostly) smooth sailing from there. Sthalsh put on the same jacket and goggles that Blat had on along with a cloth mask that both of them wore. He wondered how silly Creature thought they looked. Sthalsh had removed the creature’s tunic so he was bare-skinned but he made sure to cover the groin to give him some privacy. 

Creature seemed stiff as they poked and prodded him making notes of everything that felt significant. Whether anything was significant was up for debate. Creature kept his distance from Blat but allowed him to touch him when it was necessary, which was usually when Sthalsh was busy elsewhere. The different tests they put him through were tiring and ranged from physical, behavioral, and social. 

“Hey Sthalsh, remember two shuns ago when you said we’d knock out the social tests?” Blat jested.

Sthalsh trilled while inspecting Creature’s finger pads. “Yeah, but if I remember correctly, some idiot shot him with a sedative and knocked him out for half a shun.” He smirked under his mask. 

Creature got worn down quicker than they expected and ended up lying down struggling to stay awake. During their examination, they discovered many interesting things about the creature including the presence of fingerprints, veins, and arteries that varied in size, some areas were more touch sensitive than others, the creature most likely wore shoes on his home planet, and the ‘fur’ that covered the face and head was actually hair and would most likely keep growing if they let it. They also noted that the skin was easy to cut, bleed, and bruise which was not consistent with the rest of Creature’s magnificent body built for power and durability.  

At one point, during the physical examination, Sthalsh took off his mask and goggles, to appear less frightening, and to take a careful look at his neck. Remembering how upset he got the other starvoid made him extremely curious yet cautious. He used a flat sterile stick to maneuver his head gently from side to side. 

“What are you doing?” Blat asked looking up from his notes. 

“The other starvoid, I touched his neck while tending to his wounded cheek and he got very… emotional I suppose. I’m not actually sure what happened but he went into a panic. I don’t want that to happen again.” He hummed a low note and then ever so slightly placed his finger on the front of his neck. Creature looked up at him with wide eyes. Sthalsh pulled away when the breathing quickened and stopped touching him altogether. “It appears,” he began. “That two very large arteries are on either side of the esophagus. I can feel his heartbeat race through. That must be a very sensitive area.” 

Blat shrugged and nodded. “Well, it’s survival instincts. Evolution really, I mean if that wasn’t a sensitive area, he would be more likely to injure it.” 

“I agree, although I hate that I upset him so much. I had no idea it would thrust him into a spiral. Let’s take a break. I’m sure he’s had quite enough of this for a little while.” 

Blat rolled his chair over to the short cabinets and picked up the paper. “Okay, take a look at this.” He plopped it down next to Creature’s legs where Sthalsh could see it. 

Sthalsh immediately trilled loudly and exclaimed, “I’m so glad they used this picture! Thankfully your girls aren't in it.” The picture was of Sthalsh in his undergarments thrusting a twisted fist at the scene saver. ‘Local scientist denies nothing!’ Was written underneath the picture. Sthalsh opened it up to the first page and read aloud. “Professor Sthalsh Hyrophenic the Second, was given a once in a lifetime opportunity this past bect when a mysterious creature fell from the sky, but is this the best person to put on the job?” He stopped reading, “Oh who else would they put on ‘the job’? I’m an elder as far as anyone is concerned. I’ve been at this a long time you know.”

“Keep reading,” Blat said removing his goggles.

He did. “Local rumors have spread that the professor is using the poor creature for his own gain in the scientific realm, as well as personal ‘favors’ of the sexual kind. Sthe- Oh no, you’ve got to be joking.” His ears turned dark.

“No no! That’s my favorite part! Keep reading.”

Sthalsh groaned and continued, “Sthevian Mori, son of Mayor Amrage Mori, claims that he would provide a better and safer home for the alien in his newly renovated zoo. He states that he would provide a warm quiet enclosure filled with toys and obstacles for the alien to enjoy safely.” Sthalsh rolled his eyes. “I've never heard such nonsense in all my life. That man wouldn’t know a safe enclosure if he was placed in one for a whole pass.”

“I know.” Blat’s ears turned slightly dark. “I’m sorry my friend, I don’t understand why everyone is so against this.”

Sthalsh put the paper aside, “Because it’s different and weird, and people are bored and there's nothing else going on in this place.”

There was a knock at the door and light flooded in as it opened. The three of them shielded their eyes. Romfeild’s figure became clear as he stepped inside the room. Blat acknowledged him; Sthalsh did not. “I have the toxicology report here,” said Romfeild handing the papers to Blat. “They seem painfully detailed I’m sure glad you two are doing all this and not me.”

Sthalsh glared at him, “You read the report?” 

“Just a little.” He stared at the alien on the table now resting and nearly asleep. “Are you guys planning to do a vivisection or something?”

They both looked up rather quickly at Romfeild. If their species gasped they would have then. “Spirits above, absolutely not!” Sthalsh said seriously. “Why on Xire would you say such a thing?”

“Oh, sorry.” Romfeild realized he struck a nerve with the two of them. Sthalsh and Blat looked at each other and then back at Romfeild. He swallowed hard, “Um, is it okay if I can take a look at it?” He said referring to the alien. 

Sthalsh crossed both sets of arms, “You are! He’s right there.” Sthalsh, for one, had had enough of this man ever since he protested on his lawn the shun before, and if he was truly honest with himself, he’d had enough of Romfeild long before that.

Then before anyone could stop or correct him, he coughed rather loudly and abruptly right in the direction of Creature. His ears flashed a very dull brown. Now, the repcent species do not sneeze, yawn, cry, sigh, gasp, huff, or puff, but they do cough, and they do so voluntarily. 

Blat was taken aback by this and held out his palms. “Rom are you- are you sick?”

Romfeild shook his head. “No, no it's just allergies.”

Blat’s ears turned dark brown and pink pulsating. He flicked them out like a stamp of the foot. “You cannot be in here coughing like that, what in the stars is wrong with you? Are you trying to kill Creature? Spirits help you, do you have a brain at all? Leave at once!” He was shouting angrily at him, snorting and pointing a finger at him accusatorily. Creature had sat up to see what all the fuss was about. Sthalsh sat silent but a smile slid across his face. Romfeild left quickly without a single word. “The nerve! Do people not know common decency? I mean what if he was really sick? He could have infected Creature and-” Sthalsh was looking at him with pink pulsing ears and a soft smile. “What?”

“You do care.”

Blat sniffed. “Only a little bit.”

Sthalsh glanced at the toxicology report and two words caught his eye. He looked up at the creature laid out before them and felt nearly sick. “This can’t be right.”

“What?” Blat stood up and leaned over Sthalsh to get a peak at the paper. 

Sthalsh read aloud, “Large traces of norepinephrine and epinephrine found in the blood samples.” He looked at Blat a bit pale, ears pulsing a bright red with anxiety. “I’ve been sleeping next to an alien pumped full of adrenaline!” He yanked on his ears, “Stars and spirits help me. No wonder his muscles are so large, ugh! And the panic, of course, why didn’t I see it! He really must be low evolution, I mean this is absolutely barbaric!”

Blat stared at the creature in disbelief. “Are you sure it’s sapient?”

“If it is, which I still think he is, the species has most likely just become sapient, maybe one million passes or so. The species will likely die out quickly or evolve into something else. He still has five fingers and toes for spirit’s sake, and it looks like he has a while before that fifth digit will disappear. I doubt they even have homes or communities where hes from, maybe not even language!” He groaned still tugging on his ears. “Blat, we are extremely lucky to have found a docile one of these creatures because I’d be very scared to see one that was genuinely angry. We’re essentially dealing with a highly dangerous, skilled, thinking, feeling, irrational, animal that is just enough past the ‘person’ line to be considered a sapient.”

-

First

(Derped the title, reposting.)

The Buzz on the Spin

“Okay that is going to need some explanation. Do you mean someone who resembled a child was the killer, there was a killer who’s victims resembled children, or were there actual children involved?”

“Technically yes.” Janet says.

“Ma’am.” He says in a warning tone.

“Do you want a summation or do you want to hear how things happened?”

“Yes and in that order.” Observer Wu states.

“It was a Metak serial killer who had overused a healing coma to appear to be a child of their own species. Their victims were similar short species that had been de-aged. Technically none of them were children, biologically all of them were and at no point in their lives were they taller than children. A Child Killer.” Janet says.

“Okay... okay, that’s a much more insane but reasonable thing to hear about. Less someone targeting the innocent and more a group of extra small midgets with one of them being a murderer. Still horrible but not as bad as children being attacked.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Janet says and he gives her an unimpressed look. She lets off a slight chuckle then. “My son is...”

“I get it, his humour has rubbed off on you. You want to hear it go dark, listen into the Nurses and Doctors in a hospital ‘comforting’ each other about a problem. Or the gossip in a police station about the state of crime.” Observer Wu says with his hands up.

“Or teachers about the academic futures of children or fire departments about the fire safety.” Janet says.

“You’ve heard a few?”

“Near lifelong waitress here. We hear all the gossip when the board wants to talk around a meal and not in the office.”

“I believe you. Now, as to this unusual day your son had....”

“Well... after lunch he got a call on his communicator...”

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“Hello?” He asks the device even as he places a stack of plates on the coutner with his other hands. “... No that’s not good. Give me the address again... alright. I’m on my way.”

“What’s going on?”

“About four reports of a smell of blood in the storage area near the docking ring. I gotta go, there may have been a stabbing.” He answers before giving her a hug and then makes a strange looking gesture where he slowly walks through the Charbis with them all quickly brushing against his hair with their antenna. Then he’s out and gone.

His jump off the platform takes him down dozens of levels and a hop off another one takes him the rest of the way down. He repeats the number he was given and then takes a left towards the area indicated. “Shit, that does smell like blood.”

A quick pat to his armour where he replaced the plating and he he starts weaving through storage units, sniffing the air and heading to where the scent is stronger and stronger until.

“Oh ****.” He swears as he sees the tiny blue skinned corpse. There’s no point checking for vitals, a massive gash and a puddle of blood that big can mean only death for someone so small. He brings out his communicator. “We have a Metak, unknown gender, very young. Killed through a gash at the base of the neck that proceeds down through the collarbone and opened several major veins right next to the heart. If I would guess the age... I would say prepubescent, possibly younger, I’m not overly familiar with Metak development. I am now going to check the corpse for any form of remaining ID.”

He then puts the communicator in broadcast mode and tucks it into his breast pocket as he begins gently tapping at the pockets of the tiny body. On the third location he finds something hard and gently pries it out with two fingers. It’s a tiny clamshell case that he opens up. On one half is a series of cards and the other contains a compressed storage space for coins.

“The ID is for one Shelly Tearwing. Age... Five hundred and Forty Seven. A note states that she spends her time in a prepubescent form. There is a significant amount of coin still on hand. This was not a simple mugging gone wrong, something like this would have been taken. Can any of you give me confirmation on this?”

“Keep your shirt on Hoagie, I’m getting the results now. Tearwing is a minor celebrity in several circles and this is not going to look good for her to turn up dead here. She’s not a galaxy breaking celebrity, but she’s in a fair number of commercials and generally serves as a child character in multiple movies and television shows. If what I’m getting about her net worth is correct she was probably knifed while heading from Sector Five to Sector Three.”

“And then died here in Sector Four. I’m going to start scanning the area, see if anything turns up.” Hoagie says as he pulls out a blacklight and starts slowly sweeping it across the area to spot anything he otherwise wouldn’t.

“Alright, I’ve got a bit more information. There is some scandal in Tearwing’s life. She’s recently taken a hiatus from her work for security reasons, she’s estranged from her twin sister and apparently on the outs with most of her family.”

“She’s taken her hiatus here?” Hoagie asks.

“Hey, we’ve got a solid reputation in the nearby empires. It’s like going to crime ridden tropical nation that has amazing drinks and tourism.”

“God damn it, we’re a banana republic.”

“And you’re one of the chief enforcers! Aren’t you proud?”

“Do remember that I’m looking into ways to bitchslap people over a phone call.”

“Cool, think you can send a sucker punch via e-mail?”

“God that would be so much fun...”

“Hello! We’ve got a hit! Sadie Tearwing, the estranged twin, is on the station! Staying in Sector Three. Looks like she’s in for the long haul too, she’s starting a job as a bouncer in The Falling Coin Casino and she’s paid first and last for an apartment in the upper section of Sector Three.”

“Hunh... so did Shelly come here to...” Hoagie cuts himself off as there’s a sudden long streak of pressed out... not blood being forced to the side. He brings out a chemical scanner and holds it close to the previously invisible marking. “I don’t understand, cloning fluid?”

“What?”

“Did someone kill her and try to clone her? Kill a clone? Did a clone kill her? This doesn’t make sense.”

“It could be coincidence. You’re in a storage area and cloning is used all the time for a variety of reasons.”

“Possible... from the spread a bit of the fluid was leaking from a tank and it must have flowed into the path of a repulser for a pallet. Giving us a trail. Send a crew to this body to start cleaning things up. Make sure we’re respectful. We need to salvage this. And make sure we have someone watching Sadie. She’s either a suspect or a potential next target. Either way, eyes on her.”

“I take that to mean you’re on the trail?”

“**** Yeah I am. Actually five hundred or not, this maniac just made me stare a tiny child’s dead body in the eyes. I’m going to kick their **** so hard they’re going to spit it up.” Hoagie growls out as he follows the trail between warehouses and pulls out his hull cutter without activating it yet.

“Alright, it’s more likely a woman, but the point comes across.”

“Not in the mood for semantics. My kids are close to hatching and seeing a child butchered...”

“Not a child, calm down before you kill an innocent person.” Admin warns him and he takes a deep breath. “Good man breathe in and...”

“Smells like a hospital.” Hoagie says before sniffing around and then coming up to a blank wall. He looks back the other way to confirm that that there should be a door here. He taps the wall with the hilt of his hull cutter and the ringing noise is distinctly different from what it should be. “Hidden door.”

“There’s got to be a leak or a vent nearby too, otherwise you wouldn’t get that hospital smell.” Admin notes.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Hoagie says before he tucks away the black light and places his freed up palm on the wall. He sends a pulse of Axiom through and snorts. “Trytite lacing walls, someone’s being sneaky. And if someone’s pulling this shit in my sector, then it simply doesn’t fly.”

He pushes the hull cutter through the door mechanisms and carves it and the frame of the reinforced bulkhead worthy door clean out of the warehouse wall and steps through.

“Housekeeping!” He calls inside. It’s WAY more aggressive than he intended and came out as a battle cry.

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“Did he tell you that?” Observer Wu asks. He’s not even remarking on her censoring the swearing.

“He did.” Janet confirms.

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“Dude really?” Admin asks him.

“Really.” Hoagie says as he holds up the hull cutter to shed light into the dark warehouse. There are rows and rows of tanks with half grown figures inside them. “... We may have a cloning serial killer on the station.”

“The Axiom readings are indicating Stasis Energy not far from you. Both left and right.” Admin says and he turns and walks between two tanks to see... “Is that our murder victim?”

“It may be. Kidnap someone and cover up the kidnapping by murdering a clone?” Hoagie considers as he walks up to the copy of Shelly Tearwing, naked and lying with her arms crossed over her chest like a mummy in a small pod.

“There are markers for that though...”

“But no one would check for that if the death looks legit, and it does look legit they left the coin and ID.” Hoagie says. “Get the cleanup crew to check for them. If someone knocked her out, put her clothes on a clone and then murdered the clone then it’s as neat as a kidnapping gets.”

“Yeah but... useless for ransom.”

“There are a lot more reasons to kidnap someone than mere money. And whoever’s pulled this shit HAS money.” Hoagie says as he starts walking past more and more stasis pods in the wall. Each one carries what looks like a child of a different species, but as he scans them one after the other they all come up as fully grown women who used Healing Comas to look like children.

“This is freaky.” Admin notes.

“Try being down here. In fact, get the **** down here. I want backup.” He says before something moves in his peripheral vision. He turns, but it’s gone. “Get down here yesterday. I’m not alone.”

Something screams and a shape blurs at him from directly behind. He turns and his hull cutter moves. Two halves of a naked child spark and crackle as they reveal themselves to be parts of a synthetic body. The entire laboratory suddenly lights up with shields over everything just before the two parts detonate and Hoagie is sent skidding back.

His communicator is broken by shrapnel but his grip on his hull cutter is good. He’s only mildly cut up thanks to his armour and otherwise just barely rattled. His ears are ringing though. A surge of Axiom and his cuts close and the ringing stops as he scans the area. The forcefields are protecting the cloning tanks, stasis pods and the internals of the building. But also illuminating things.

“Do you think this is cute?” He asks as he absently counts and spots that there are in fact thirty different women, all physically children, in stasis pods. He’s willing to bet that each one is a ‘murder victim’ and held here for some reason.

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“So when you said child killer earlier you were just toying with me weren’t you?” Observer Wu accuses.

“No, we just haven’t gotten to that part yet. Unusual days are complicated ones, so there are a few more twists. Such as the killer, their motivations and a few more pieces. But the buildup is important! It’s part of the story!”

“Please don’t try to pass real things off as a fairy tale.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m the mother in law to a swarm of bees and one of my dearest friends is a night black monster and mother of nations! I go swimming with mermaids every Tuesday and regularly have tea with giant spiders. I babysit mice on Thursday and gossip with rabbits every day of the week, I share recipes with bats and have advised both living math and machines on fashion! I live spinning among the stars in a home that was built around a flying mountain long hollowed out by immortals in search of wealth. Upon their council sits my son in honour and glory as a high lord in service to the high queen! I’m living in a fairy tale!”

“Fair enough, but I’m still not seeing a Child Killer if it’s only clones... hmm... that came out by instinct. I’ve met clones.”

“Well, so long as you see where the fault lies.”

“And if it came out of me by reflex after knowing Harold as long as I have, then how will they respond back on Earth? I’m going to have to make sure the legal rights and considerations of clones are near the top of the list of information. It’s a technology we’re perfecting on Earth and I think it best if we learn from the ethical battles that have been had out here rather than suffer them ourselves.” Observer Wu notes.

“Is that the duty of an Observer?”

“My duty is to gather information and bring it back unbiased. The rights and responsibilities of clones and cloners are a part of that.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Just one more question before we continue.” Observer Wu says and Janet nods. He gestures for her to lean closer and he looks concerned. She does. “Is this terribly story... involving child rape?”

“No, what our criminal was doing didn’t go there, but it did go to disturbing places.”

“It’s already at a disturbing place with thirty women who have the bodies of small children held in stasis and surrounding a cloning lab where their copies are being made. What makes it more disturbing? Was our criminal a cannibal who had a taste for veal but didn’t want to kill what he saw as a person?”

“No, it was disturbing in a different way. And... eww.”

“You’re not allowed to let that just hang there, keep telling me what happened.”

“Alright, alright. Now my Daniel’s focus was clear and strong as he was refining his Axiom senses to narrow down where the person was. He could sense the life in the Stasis pods and cloning tanks, but there was another that was subtly off, but still blurred by the shielding over everything backed by trytite. It blurred the whole area...”

First Last

As I sit in the waiting room, the hum of machinery buzzes softly in the background, a faint reminder of the omnipresent technology encasing our world. It’s not intrusive, not loud—just a quiet, steady vibration that hums beneath the silence, like a second heartbeat. The walls are a sterile, featureless white, their smooth surfaces reflecting the cold, artificial light overhead. The illumination is just bright enough to be uncomfortable, amplifying the room’s emptiness. Rows of identical chairs, untouched and perfectly aligned, stretch across the floor. It feels as though I’ve wandered into a place forgotten by time, suspended between purpose and desolation. I am the only one here.

My eyes dart around the room, restless and searching, latching onto anything to distract me from the unease crawling through my veins. To my right stands the receptionist—or, more accurately, the holographic projection of one. She is unnervingly lifelike. Her expression is calm, almost welcoming, yet oddly blank, like a canvas painted with no intention of depth.

I catch myself staring, trying to pinpoint what gives her away. But there’s nothing. No flickering outlines, no distortion at her edges. Her movements are fluid, her skin detailed down to the faintest pores. Even the light in her eyes feels real, the glint of reflected illumination so meticulously crafted that, for a moment, I forget she isn’t real. It’s a far cry from the holograms of my youth—grainy, blue-tinged phantoms from like old sci-fi films. No, this is perfection engineered, an unsettling mimicry of life.

I shift in my chair, my joints stiff and reluctant. At 209 years old, movement is no longer a fluid task for me. Advanced gene therapies and cellular rejuvenation have kept me looking thirty, but my body betrays its age in subtle ways—a dull ache here, a moment of hesitation there. I’ve resisted the temptation to upload my consciousness into an android shell, though nearly everyone I know has. The promise of immortality, of perfect strength and unyielding vitality, doesn’t appeal to me. What’s the point of eternity if the essence of humanity is lost? Or maybe I’m just stubborn.

The hologram stirs, breaking the stillness. Her head tilts slightly, her synthetic gaze locking onto mine with precision.

“Mr. Hanson,” she says, her voice impossibly smooth, devoid of any glitches or imperfections. “A1 will see you now.”

A1. Even the name feels heavy in my mind. The entity that governs humanity’s most significant decisions, the machine intelligence that acts as arbiter, advisor, and ruler in all but name. Simple, humble, unassuming—that’s the name it chose for itself. But there is nothing humble about A1.

Rising to my feet, I feel a faint tremor in my legs, whether from age or apprehension, I can’t tell. The door to A1’s chamber looms just to the left of the hologram, a seamless panel of black that blends with the wall around it. I hesitate, a sense of foreboding washing over me. I’ve studied A1’s work for years, followed its impact on policy, research, and every major leap humanity has taken. But knowing it from a distance and standing before it are entirely different things.

I step forward, the sound of my shoes muffled against the sleek flooring. The door slides open soundlessly, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond. The air inside is frigid, the kind of cold that clings to your skin and sinks deep into your bones.

My gaze is immediately drawn to the center of the room—a massive black sphere hovering in defiance of gravity. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, its surface impossibly smooth, absorbing the scant light around it like a void. The sphere radiates an oppressive presence, not through movement or sound, but through sheer existence. It feels alive, as though it’s watching me, though it has no eyes.

“Hello, Mr. Hanson. It is a pleasure to meet you,” a voice echoes, crisp and feminine, filling the chamber. It doesn’t come from the sphere but seems to emanate from every corner of the room, omnipresent and unavoidable.

I open my mouth to respond, but the voice continues, cutting off my attempt.

“Well, I’m happy to know it’s a pleasure to meet me. Now let’s get down to business. You’ve come here to ask for funding for your project: opening a portal to another dimension.”

Shock ripples through me. I haven’t spoken a word, yet it already knows.

“Haha, well, I’m not God. I don’t know everything,” the voice interjects, its tone laced with a faint amusement that chills me more than the cold air.

The sphere seems to draw nearer, though it hasn’t moved an inch. Its presence presses against me as the voice continues, relentless and measured.

“This is regarding the cargo ship that disappeared one week, eight hours, four seconds, and nineteen milliseconds ago. When a team was sent to investigate, they found no trace of the ship. However, a distress beacon was detected, accompanied by negative tachyons.”

I nod, though my body feels as though it’s moving without my consent.

“It has been theorized that with sufficient energy, a tear between dimensions could be created. Yet the energy required exceeds anything humanity has managed to harness. How a cargo ship might have stumbled upon such a phenomenon is, thus far, a mystery. You seek funding to investigate this anomaly. To open the portal. Your argument will center on the potential for resource acquisition, and if necessary, you will frame it as a rescue mission.”

I stiffen, but the voice isn’t done.

“However, this isn’t the real reason you want to do this.”

The words hang in the air, their weight suffocating. My mind races, searching for a response, but the voice continues.

“You want this because inter-dimensional travel was the last project your wife worked on before she passed.”

The air leaves my lungs as though I’ve been struck. My throat tightens, words failing me. The voice, ever calm, presses forward.

“Your motivations are irrelevant. I am authorizing full funding for your project. You will lead this endeavor. A team will be assembled immediately. This conversation is concluded.”

“But—” I manage, my voice cracking. “I’m just a professor. I’m not equipped—”

“You are the most qualified person alive. Do not be modest. Goodbye, Mr. Hanson.”

Before I can protest further, the cold air shifts, and I find myself back in the hallway, the door behind me sealing shut with a hiss. The silence is deafening, and I stand frozen, my mind a storm of questions and fears.

This isn’t what I planned. This isn’t what I wanted. Yet, somehow, the weight of humanity’s next great leap rests squarely on my shoulders.

first/previous

Tutorial failed.

Restarting eternity.

Tutorial failed.

Restarting eternity.

“Know what?” Jace asked as he kept on fiddling around with his metal gauntlet. It had taken him five attempts to get anything remotely useful, but he was getting the hang of it fast. The last loop, the thing had fallen off his hand after a minute of him moving his fingers about. “I think we should armor up. Remember how long it took for you to poison the knight?”

Leaning against the corridor wall, Will calmly listened to the sounds of broken glass coming from further down. Unlike the previous two times, it had lasted almost half a minute, giving him hope. Yet his suspicion was that they’d fail again.

“Maybe,” he said. Helen and Alex were the most experienced by far, with their own eternal weapons, and all levels and rewards from three floors. If there was a pattern, they would have spotted it by now. Therein lay the problem. In every loop so far, Helen had died in a completely different fashion.

First it had been poison suspected to have been present in the mirror. The second time, she had died from a projectile, at least as far as she could tell. The third time remained unclear, but it had occurred at the moment she’d attempted to enter the mirror, suggesting a trap of some sort.

At no point had anyone seen the actual opponent. Even when Alex had tried to overwhelm the monster, as the thief copy had done in their last major battle, the results had been the same.

The boy’s train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a slam in the wall that occurred ten inches from his face.

“Fucking hell!” Jace shouted, pressing his right hand—gauntlet and all—against his stomach in a display of extreme agony.

“Not quite there?” Will barely flinched. He had started getting used to eternity, including the extreme actions of his friends.

The jock continued to swear for another ten seconds, before finally reaching a point that he could tolerate the pain.

Carefully, he pulled his hand out of the gauntlet, before throwing it onto the ground.

“At least it’s in one piece.”

“Shut it!” Jace snapped. “Eternity sucks. I’d get ten times worse during training every day. Now, I feel like barfing when I stub my toe.”

“There’s a reason for it.”

The jock stared at him.

“None of our abilities match,” he said. “I bet if you give that to Helen, it’ll be a lot more useful.”

“I’m going through all this crap, so I don’t have to give it to her.” Jace said in a bitter tone. “Unlike you, I’m not willing to be trash for the rest of my life!”

“You can’t, and maybe that’s the point.”

Without mercy or hesitation, the jock grabbed Will by the throat. Since he didn’t have any of the rogue’s abilities, there was nothing Will could do to prevent it. The pain was multiplied to the point that he felt as if his throat was being crushed. Even so, he chose not to react.

“None of us can change it. Ever thought that might be eternity’s point?” He looked straight into the jock’s eyes, accepting the pain that would inevitably follow. To his surprise, the other loosened his grip somewhat.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But think about it. Why must we get our class every loop? We’re always close to our mirror so that no one else can take it, but until we do, there’s no restriction. Before you joined, Alex used to take your class every day. Helen let me borrow the knight once, and from what she said, Danny let her borrow his.”

“Your point?”

“With all of eternity’s restrictions, why are we allowed to get all the classes if we wanted to?”

An explosion of sound came from the vice-principal’s office, sounding as if a truck of crystal vases had crashed into a china shop.

Waiting for another few seconds, Jace briskly let go of Will’s throat.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “Eternity’s a team game. Without me, the tutorial wouldn’t even fucking start.”

“I’m not talking about the tutorial,” Will admitted. “I’m talking about what follows.” He slid his fingers along his throat. The skin was still painful, as if it had been set on fire. What he couldn’t add was that he thought that Daniel had been lying about a great many things.

It was impossible that the previous rogue hadn’t come to the same conclusions Will had. The pattern was obvious. The classes of the skills were composed in such a way as to compliment each other. If one took them all, they’d be able to achieve so much more. Knight’s endurance, rogue’s sight and reflexes, thief’s speed and traps, plus the crafter’s ability to customize gear… with so much power, there’d be no stopping anyone. And yet, there was no indication in any of Danny’s desk scribbles that he had attempted doing so.

“Four are needed for the tutorial,” Jace said in a firm tone. “Why else end it if one of us dies?”

Will remained quiet.

“Unless eternity ends when we complete it…” the jock added. “You think that’s it?”

“I’m not sure,” Will admitted. “But you’re right. All four of us must start and all four of us must end.”

“You think that Danny completed the tutorial?”

The speed at which Jace came to the conclusion surprised Will. He never considered the jock to be stupid, but rather more on the “mentally lazy” side. The larger boy had put all his effort into football, intent on riding that ticket until graduation. There had never been any need to do too well in any other subject, since the coach, the teachers, and even the principal himself were willing to show leniency as long as the football team brought in results. When he wanted to, though, Jace was just as good at coming to complex conclusions at the slightest external nudge.

“What’s the thing that happens after training?” Will looked at Jace. “Competing against other teams.”

“Stoner, sometimes you really can be something.” The other tapped him on the side of the face. “He didn’t die before the tutorial, but after it.”

Will nodded.

“Helen and Alex said that there was a one week pause from eternity. There could have been more before that.”

“That fucker.” Jace shook his head. “He’s been recruiting a new team. Muffin boy, Hel, maybe even me, for all I know.”

“And while he did, something killed him.”

There remained elements that didn’t fully fit, like how he had died, and what exactly had caused the week of normalcy. Even so, the more Will thought about it, the more he believed himself to be on the right track.

“Is that why you let them go ahead alone?” Jace looked at the door to the vice-principal’s office. “Don’t trust them?”

“I trust them.” At least for what’s important. “I don’t trust Danny.”

Jace whistled.

“That’s a big one. How can you catch a dead guy in a lie?”

“By looking at what he left behind.” The boy took a step forward. The noise of breaking glass had diminished, yet the slamming of metal on concrete continued in full force. “I need you to ask for a pause next loop,” he whispered. “Say you want to focus on gear. I’ll back you up.”

“Sneaky fuck. Sure. What then?”

“I’ll have a chat with Alex. If there’s anything fishy, he’ll know.”

“Then I’ll focus on Hel and see what she knows.”

The reaction was more than logical, but deep inside, Will felt opposed to it. For some reason, he really preferred for Jace to do his own thing in private.

“Okay,” he said, despite his inner reluctance. “I should be done in a few loops, but we’ll keep in touch.”

“And what if they win?”

Will instinctively wanted to retort that there was no chance of that. However, reality proved faster, doing it for him.

Tutorial failed.

Restarting eternity.

As he promised, Jace asked to take a pause from the tutorial for a few loops so he could build some protective gear for Helen. The girl, on her part, remained determined to defeat the opponent before she would allow that.

Neither she nor Alex had any idea regarding the opponent’s exact nature. All they were able to find out during the last loop was that the enemy was a humanoid using a series of exotic weapons—chiefly poison. Will’s decision to offer his class had helped a bit, but even then the poison had finally managed to take hold, killing off Helen and bringing to the restart of eternity.

For the next two loops, Will and Jace were forced to play along, focusing on issues and discussing them in the entrance corridor of the school, while the other two of the group did all the fighting and killing.

The jock’s gauntlet continued to improve to the point that he offered it to Helen for her next fight. Since it didn’t provide any solution to the problem at hand—poison—the offer was briskly rejected.

Finally, five losses later, the group mutually decided it was time for a break. Jace convinced Helen that with the proper gear, she’d be able to avoid getting poisoned altogether, while Will arranged for a longer meeting with Alex.

“We should go to the third floor, bro,” the goofball said, sampling chocolate fudge biscuits that he’d never otherwise buy for the sole reason that each cost thirty-five ninety. “A few more levels to get OP and we’d go back.”

“It’s not the level,” Will said. “The two of you have been boosting those to the max and you still couldn’t win.”

“Nah, bro. Two classes take a lot more to level than one. Three more wolf rooms and we’d be done.”

Will highly doubted it, but nodded nonetheless.

“Did you think about what I said about Danny?” Alex suddenly changed the topic.

“Yeah.” Will paused for a moment. “You’re right. He must have had a team. I also think that he completed the tutorial.”

“Lit.” The other smiled. “Taking your first step beyond eternity.”

“His conflict with the archer, the ability to go beyond the school zone…”

“For real. He almost confirmed it with his sessions with Mister June. It wasn’t even a dream this time. He just said he imagined himself leaving school and walking about the city, leaving everything behind. Well, there was more.” The boy bit into another biscuit. “Want one? They’re fire.”

As tempting as the offer was, Will had other things in mind.

“Teach me how to be a thief,” he said, causing his friend to freeze.

“For real, bro?” he asked after several seconds.

“At some point, the tutorial will end. I want to be ready.”

In truth, there was one more reason for which Will wanted to get used to the other classes. His permanent reward skill allowed him to face past elites alone. Even if he wouldn’t be able to collect any additional items from them, he wanted to measure up against stronger opponents and see how much he needed to improve.

“Eternity isn’t for going solo.” Alex’s tone changed. “Even Danny didn’t try that.”

“It’s not about going solo. It’s about being ready. You’ve used two classes.”

The other’s eyes narrowed. There was nothing goofy about him anymore, as if Will had ventured into a taboo topic.

“Have you tried it?”

“Yes,” Alex said. For the first time since Will had known him, he could feel a note of regret. “Before Helen joined in. Was just me and Danny, so I asked to try out all the classes. He let me.”

Will waited.

“What happened?” he asked after a while.

“Archer. No idea how he found out. While I was checking out how the four classes gelled, he stormed the school.” Alex leaned back. “The arrogant jerk didn’t even try to be subtle. He killed out half the people at school, and most of the first responders. I felt too good about myself as well, so I tried to stop him.”

This was an interesting detail that the boy had kept hidden. By the way he spoke, Will already knew that the story wouldn’t have a happy ending, although he was curious why his friend hadn’t shared it before, especially since he seemed so open about it now.

“He killed you,” Will guessed.

“Killed me.” The other let out a bitter laugh. “That would have been too easy. He shot through my arms and legs, then left me there, just to let me know he could do that anytime. Then, he took Danny and went off.” The boy closed his eyes. “Remember before when I said I made sure that the archer stopped meddling with things? I lied. He acted out once more—that time. I don’t know what he did to Danny, and the guy never told me, but after that, he really stopped. Since then, he’s reappeared a few more times, just as a reminder. At first it was shortly after Helen joined eternity. The second time was when you got looped.”

“And Jace? I haven’t seen him—”

“Whatever the tutorial is, it seems to protect us from outside meddling. But you guessed right. Once it’s over, he’ll probably be back. If he sees you taking on all four classes, he might be back sooner.” He looked at his phone. “We’ve faced some nasty mods since the start of the tutorial. Those elites are no joke, but they’re nothing compared to him. If you stand out too much, he might target you, and it’ll be on his terms. So, are you sure you want to start learning other classes, bro?”

That wasn’t a revelation Will expected. He’d already seen firsthand how powerful the archer was. If, according to Alex, that was him playing around, one could only imagine what he’d be like when he got serious. For some reason, that made Will all the more determined.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to learn how to use your class properly.”

“Okay.” Alex reached out and grabbed another luxurious biscuit from the table. “You know where my mirror is. Meet me there.”

< Beginning | | Previously... |

“So, you got this?” the jock glared at Alex. “It’s complete crap.”

Everyone patiently waited for him to continue.

“It’s a belt that comes with twelve mirror daggers,” Jace added. “That’s it. And it’s eternal.”

“Fire! It restocks on knives.” Alex grabbed it. Jace, however, had no intention of letting go.

“Not even close, muffin boy.” He looked at Alex. “They’re there at the start of the loop. That’s it.” He let go.

Despite the physical difference between the two, Alex didn’t seem at all surprised or affected. Feeling the belt free, he quickly put it on with one swift action, then checked the knives. Sadly, half of them were missing.

“Do you think that counts as a weapon?” Helen wondered.

“It doesn’t count for twelve,” Will replied. “It might be considered both, though. Mirror knives are perfect for a thief. He can make traps and copies with them.”

“Big oof there, bro,” Alex said, still checking out the belt. Even after tightening it as much as possible, it seemed a few sizes larger than it was supposed to be. “I’m out of mirror pieces. I can make six of either, plus the copies that are already here.”

In total, that made fifteen. Out of the thousands of mirror copies, only nine had survived. There was always the possibility that the next battle could also be within the mirror, but no one wanted to rely on that too much.

“What’s the plan now?” Helen turned to Will. “We try our luck with the last one, or we explore the third floor?”

“Let’s go for the harpy,” the goofball quickly said, glowing with enthusiasm. “Not lit to leave one off.”

“What’s the matter, muffin boy? You have OCD?” Jace grinned.

“Each of us got a thing. This one could be your turn.” Alex grinned.

“Maybe the chain was his thing.” Despite herself, Helen couldn’t help it, making everyone except the jock stifle a laugh.

That aside, there was some logic in Alex’s words. So far, he, Will, and Helen had received an item. The chain was clearly meant to be for the entire party when fighting the boss. A bigger question was what could a crafter’s special item be? It would be lame if it were a common weapon, like a sword or dagger. He wasn’t a tank, so it couldn’t be a shield. The first thought that came to Will’s mind was an anvil, but he desperately hoped that not to be the case.

Maybe the crafter didn’t have unique tools? It was possible that he had to make use of his skills and any items he came along. Jace had already proven he could fix a whole lot of things—though he still drew a blank at complex electronic devices.

“Let’s just get it over with,” he said at last. “At least we’ll get an idea of what we’ll be facing. We might even get lucky and face a copy of Jace’s class.”

“With our luck, he’ll come at us with a flamethrower,” the jock replied.

“Bro! Next time make a flamethrower!” Alex said. “It’ll be fire!”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Will went down the corridor in the direction of the vice principal’s office. Soon, he was followed by the rest of his group.

The damage they’d done so far was massive. If the school had guards or even proper cameras, it would be crawling with people right now. For the first time in their life, the children were glad that it wasn’t special. With the exception of Halloween, no one had shown any interest in the place. Most of the equipment was old, outdated and not worth the effort.

We need to get better, Will thought. They’d only faced four serious enemies so far, and still had more losses than victories. That was the main reason he wanted to face a fifth elite—that way he’d know whether the group had actually improved, or all their wins had been purely based on luck.

The vice-principal’s room held unpleasant memories for most of the group. At some point in time everyone had passed through here, usually when they were in trouble. With the exception of Jace, loops had drastically increased the visits. Will and Helen had been there frequently in their early loops, and subsequently when they were ransacking the place in search of Daniel’s school files. While Alex denied it, there was a constant rumor going around that he had been a permanent visitor. Whether that was true remained uncertain, but it was definitely believable. As for Jace, as most members of the football team, he had frequent run-ins with the woman.

To no one’s surprise, the hidden mirror had appeared directly beneath the clock on the wall.

“I really hate this clock,” Helen said.

“You kidding?” The jock looked at her. “It was the only thing keeping me sane.”

“You too, bro?” Alex looked at him in surprise. “I thought I was the only one.”

A thick fog moved beneath the mirror’s surface, preventing anything from reflecting through. Based on what they had experienced, it was a safe bet that the monster wouldn’t be a mirror image. That meant it would be one of the creatures and, depending on its nature, the fight would either be over in a minute, or would cause the loop to restart.

“What’s your guess?” the goofball asked. “Think the monster will be the harpy? That would be lit.”

Both Jace and Will choked, trying to suppress their laughter.

“Why would you even think that?” Helen glared at Alex.

“Well… she’s the harpy?”

“That’s… I’m not even going to argue.”

“What do you think her skills will be like?” Jace joined in the speculation. “Mirror detention?”

“Bro! That’s so lit! Like locking all that cause trouble in mirrors for half of eternity. Maybe she’s been using it all this time? Hiding in plain sight. Maybe she has the principal locked in there and that’s why she gets to run the show.”

“We used to see the principal every week,” Will countered.

“Ah.” Alex waved a finger. “But was that the principle, bro? Or just another mirror image? Maybe the harpy keeps him and creates an image out now and then to fool people.”

“How do you come up with such stuff, muffin boy?” Jace asked, still smiling.

“Lots of time, bro. Conspiracies are the only interesting thing left.”

“I find them dumb.” Helen made her way to the mirror. “Ready?”

Taking out two of his mirror daggers, Alex placed two traps on the floor, then nodded. Will, too, had two throwing knives at the ready. Meanwhile, Jace made his way out of the room.

“Tell me what she looks like,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

With everything set, Will nodded.

The girl tapped the mirror and quickly leaped back. This was the moment of truth. Usually, the creature would be quick to appear, but in this case, it seemed to take its time. Seconds passed with no apparent change. It was almost as if the elite were provoking them to make the next move.

“Think we have to fight inside?” Helen asked, gripping her sword with both hands.

“Bros, maybe it’s already here?” Alex whispered.

In response, Will threw a knife at the foggy surface. The weapon flew in, creating a ripple on the glass.

“I doubt it,” he said. “It’s waiting for something.”

“Why would it be waiting?” Helen asked.

“It might be weak in direct confrontation. Like the thief's copy.”

“Alex, if it was weak, it would have attacked from a distance already.”

“Maybe it has and we just can’t see it?”

“Forget it!” The girl went up to the mirror. “I got one free would, so I’ll just go in and—”

Poison effect reduced.

Will saw a message appear. His first thought was that he had caused something. Of the party, he was the only person with a poison weapon. Instinct made him look down at his hand, if only to make sure he hadn’t nicked himself. Then it came to him. The dagger wasn’t the only poison related skill he had.

“Hold your breath!” he shouted. “The air’s poisoned.”

Barely had he finished when Alex pulled Helen back. The moment he did, a projectile of some sort emerged from the mirror, causing him to shatter to pieces.

Always with the copies, Will thought. In this case, the goofball was right to do so.

“Get out of here!” Will leaped towards the mirror. Since he had poison resistance, he was at a much lesser disadvantage than anyone else in the group.

Tutorial failed.

Restarting eternity.

Mentally affected by the old loop, the boy leaped forward, landing facedown on the decorative patch of grass next to the pavement. The sound of nearby laughter and insults followed.

“Good job, weirdo.” Jess glanced at him as she walked by with her friend.

Will ignored her. For several seconds, he just lay there as his mind tried to catch up with the abrupt changes. Slowly standing up, so that the ridicules could end, he took out his phone. Already there were several messages on it.

Jace: what happened?

Alex: ? ^.^’

Helen: No idea

Jace: stoner, u mess up?

Helen: Wasn’t him

Helen: I got poisoned

Clearly, this was going to be a long conversation. Aside from the obvious, Will had no idea how exactly they had been killed and, by the looks of it, neither did anyone else.

The mouse cafe. he typed in

Jace: ? mouse

Alex: he means moose

Helen: Mousse.

Helen: Idiots.

More messages followed, but Will had already put his phone away. Standard loops were short as it was. They only had less than ten minutes to discuss matters and not a moment to waste.

“So, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” the barista asked in his usual chill demeanor.

“Free period,” Helen said without blinking. “I’d like some cocoa, please.”

“A soda for me,” Jace said.

“I’m good, bro.” Alex waved, munching a muffin.

The barista gave the goofball a disappointed look, then went to get the others what they had ordered. Once everything was brought, and with seven minutes left to go, the real conversation began.

“I think it’s a copy of me,” Will said. “I don’t know anything else that has poison.”

“Bro, the snake had poison. It also appeared from a clouded mirror. Maybe this one used a new set of skills?”

“Wouldn’t we have seen it poison the air?” Helen took a sip from her cocoa. “There wasn’t any spray of smoke or anything.”

“Maybe it wasn’t in the air,” Will suggested. “The cloud could have been poisoned, so you got it by activating the mirror.”

“That’s fucked.” Jace shook his head. “I bet that’s it. Better use protection when activating mirrors,” he said with a chuckle.

“Nah, bro. Can’t be just that.” Alex took another muffin from his pocket and bit off half of it. “My copy shattered. Poison doesn’t shatter copies.”

“Poison and throwing knives,” Will insisted. “It has to be a rogue copy. Two of you have gotten yours. It’s time for mine.”

“Two copies on the same floor? I don’t know, Stoner. I’m with the snake idea.”

“Either way, we need to deal with the poison.” Will looked at Helen. “The extra wound didn’t do squat, so that’s not the answer. The way things are, we’ve only got two options.”

Everyone leaned in.

“We skip the room and explore the third floor.” The boy paused. “Or Helen takes my class.”

Everyone froze, as if they’d witnessed a car crash.

“Your skill, bro?” Alex asked.

“It takes four classes to complete the tutorial, but it isn’t said that they have to be held by four people. I’ll just extend my loop and let Helen take the knight and the rogue. At level four, she’ll get poison resistance, so it should be fine.”

“Two classes…” the jock mused, considering the option.

“She’s the keyholder. That’s the only thing we can’t change.”

“Two classes won’t make it easier.” Helen joined the conversation. “It’s nice you offered, but—”

“It’s just for the elite,” Will interrupted. “Once you kill him, we end the loop and continue as normal.”

“For real, bro! That’s lit!” Alex said in a way that made Will wonder why no one had thought about the idea. The goofball, of all people, should know what it was like. After all, he had been using two classes up to the point that Jace had joined them in eternity.

“Just till we get the weapon?” Helen turned to Will.

“Just till then.” He nodded.

“Meanwhile, we’ll be gophers,” Jace said, ruining the moment. “Muffin boy will need lots of fragments, so we’ll carry extra loads. Three backpacks ought to do the trick. If not, I’m taking your class!” he pointed at Alex.

It was a solid plan. But if there was one thing Will had come to see when dealing with eternity, it was that even a solid plan needed a few loops to kick in.

By the time the barista went to the table to ask how they’d be paying for everything ordered, the allocated ten minutes had come to an end.

Restarting eternity.

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

Abigail's POV:

"In this world, there are predators and prey." Those were the last words my father said to me, his voice calm but final, before he turned away and walked out of my life yet again.

That memory played over in my head, sharp and raw, as I opened my eyes—only to shut them almost instantly. A blinding light overwhelmed me, its intensity piercing even through my closed eyelids. My heart raced as I tried to get my bearings. The light was harsh and artificial, not like sunlight filtering through trees or the gentle glow of firelight. It felt cold, clinical.

After a few moments, I cautiously reopened my eyes, squinting as shapes began to take form. Above me, a vague humanoid figure hovered, shrouded in the brightness. My breath caught in my throat, and an icy chill crept down my spine. Who—or what—was standing over me?

As my vision adjusted, the details became clearer. The figure wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

Blood-red eyes. Pale, expressionless face. The man who had killed the bull with a single, brutal punch. My stomach twisted in fear and disbelief. I scrambled backward off the soft surface I had been lying on—a table, maybe?—and my movements were frantic, instinctual. My palms slipped, and I fell hard onto the floor, the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain up my spine.

The coldness of the floor was jarring against my skin, and it was only then that I realized something even more unnerving—I was completely naked.

Why was I naked?

I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. My arms flailed as I tried to push myself upright, desperate to create space between me and the man. The memory of his raw power burned in my mind. My gaze darted around the room, but the surroundings offered no comfort. The walls were smooth, seamless, and gray, devoid of any marks or imperfections. No windows. No signs of life. The air was sterile, and an unsettling quiet seemed to press in from all sides.

As I scrambled backward, my face slammed into something hard—a wall, invisible in my blind retreat. Pain shot through my nose, and I yelped, clutching my face as tears pricked at my eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” I muttered, my voice shaky and barely audible. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to piece together the fragments of my memory.

The burial. The wall that opened like a mouth, beckoning me with its strange light. My foolish curiosity, jumping in without a second thought. The sensation of falling, then…nothing. Everything after that was a blur, like ink smeared across parchment.

But none of that explained this.

I turned my focus back to the man. He hadn’t moved an inch. He just stood there, his crimson eyes fixed on me, unblinking and unfeeling, like a predator sizing up its prey. My mind raced. He should be dead—I was certain of it. And yet here he was, impossibly alive and hauntingly still, as though the very concept of movement was beneath him.

“Wonderful, you’re finally awake,” a voice said suddenly, breaking the oppressive silence.

I froze, my body tense as I scanned the room for the source. The voice was smooth, deep, and unsettlingly calm, but there was something off about it, something unnatural. It didn’t seem to come from any particular direction but rather reverberated through the air itself.

My arms instinctively moved to cover myself, though the gesture felt futile. My eyes darted around the room, searching for answers, for any sign of life. The emptiness of the space gnawed at me. It felt untouched, devoid of scent, sound, or energy. It was as if I had been dropped into a void masquerading as a room.

“Please do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm,” the voice continued, its tone unchanging.

The assurance fell flat, like a brittle leaf crumbling underfoot. My instincts screamed at me to stay wary, to stay alive.

“If you mean no harm, then show yourself!” I shot back, my voice stronger than I felt.

The silence stretched for a moment before the voice returned, calm and composed. “I cannot comply with your request, as I do not possess a physical body.”

What? My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. No body? Was this a ghost? A spirit? No, that didn’t add up. There wasn’t enough natural energy in the air to sustain a spirit, and I didn’t sense any magic—none of the telltale vibrations or lingering auras.

The man still hadn’t moved. He was as still as stone, his presence oppressive and unyielding.

“But if it would make you more comfortable,” the voice continued, “I can communicate through the walking drone. People usually find that less unsettling.”

The drone. Was that what this man was?

Before I could process the words, the man’s body jerked to life. His head tilted, and his limbs moved with a precision that was unnervingly mechanical. He turned toward me and began walking.

My heart leapt into my throat.

“Hold it right there!” I shouted, retreating further against the wall. “What kind of man approaches a woman when she’s not wearing any clothes?”

He stopped mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if processing my words. Then, the voice responded, the same one from before. “My apologies. Humans are very bashful when they have nothing to conceal their genitals.”

The bluntness of the statement was jarring, but I had no time to unpack it. If this voice claimed to have no body, then why was it controlling this man? Or…was this man even alive?

A soft hum drew my attention, and I turned to see a section of the wall behind me dissolve into a doorway. A strip of light illuminated a path leading out.

“If you follow the light, it will lead you to clothing,” the voice offered.

I hesitated, my mind flooded with questions. Where were my original clothes? How was the floor glowing? And why—why couldn’t I sense any magic in this place?

The man hadn’t moved again, but his presence loomed large in my mind. I didn’t trust him—or whatever was controlling him—but I needed answers, and for that, I needed to play along.

Slowly, I rose to my feet, keeping my back pressed against the wall as I edged toward the glowing doorway. When I reached the threshold, I paused, my gaze locked on the man. He stared back, unblinking and unreadable.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and stepped through the doorway. My gaze flicked back to the man one last time, his red eyes still fixed on me, unwavering and emotionless. His presence lingered in my mind as I walked away, following the glowing strip of light along the floor.

The corridor stretched ahead, featureless and unnervingly sterile. The walls, smooth and gray, seemed to absorb all sound, leaving only the soft padding of my bare feet on the cold surface. There were no seams, no panels, no marks of wear—just an endless monotony. Whoever—or whatever—had built this place clearly wasn’t human.

I turned another corner, the light guiding my path. Each turn felt like stepping deeper into a maze, a place designed to disorient and trap. Was it leading me to safety? Or was this another test, another layer of the mystery I’d found myself ensnared in?

For a fleeting moment, I considered ignoring the path altogether, running in the opposite direction in a desperate bid for escape. But the thought was dismissed almost as soon as it formed. Where would I even go? The endless corridors were like the veins of some vast, lifeless organism, and I had no idea what lay beyond. Getting lost here would be worse than useless—it might anger the man, and I’d already seen how dangerous he could be.

I turned another corner and continued walking. The glowing strip extended straight ahead for what felt like an eternity, my skin prickling from the cold even with my natural fur, lifeless air. After another minute, the light suddenly stopped, ending at a smooth wall.

I blinked, confused, and glanced around. Had I missed a turn? Before I could fully process what was happening, the wall in front of me began to shift. Without a sound, it separated and slid apart, revealing a new room.

Cautiously, I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the faint hum of energy in the air—a subtle vibration that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. The room was circular, bathed in a soft, pale blue glow emanating from a ring of light on the floor. At the center stood a glass cylinder, impossibly pristine, as though it had been placed there moments ago.

Inside the cylinder was a suit.

It was sleek, black, and impossibly thin, like a second skin. Its surface shimmered faintly under the light, and strange symbols marked the chest area—symbols I didn’t recognize, their angular shapes unlike any language I’d ever seen. Despite its simplicity, the suit seemed…alien. Otherworldly.

I approached slowly, my breath catching in my throat as I neared the glass. Before I could reach out, a circular opening silently appeared in the cylinder’s surface, inviting me to take the suit.

Hesitant, I extended my hand and brushed my fingers against the material. It was soft yet firm, almost like woven silk, but with an unnatural resilience that made it seem alive.

As soon as I lifted the suit from its stand, everything changed.

The suit began to move.

It melted, its form collapsing into a viscous black liquid that oozed over my hands. My heart raced as the liquid began crawling up my arms, defying gravity, its cool touch spreading across my skin like ink spilled in water.

I staggered back, panic rising in my chest. "What the—?!"

The substance continued its relentless advance, covering my arms, shoulders, and torso. Was it alive? It felt alive. It pulsed faintly, conforming to my body with an unnerving intimacy. I clawed at it, trying to pull it off, but my fingers slipped uselessly against its surface. It adhered to me completely, flowing over every curve and contour as though it belonged there.

“No, no, no,” I muttered, tugging desperately at the edges. But the material refused to budge.

Within moments, the suit had enveloped me entirely, leaving no part of my skin exposed. It was weightless yet snug, moving with me as though it had become a part of me. My breathing was shallow, and I fought the urge to scream.

This was too much. The glass cylinder, the liquid suit—this entire place was wrong. What have I gotten myself into?

Realizing I wasn’t getting it off, I stopped struggling and tried to calm my racing heart. My hands trembled as I ran them over the material, feeling its strange texture. It wasn’t just clothing—it felt like armor, like it was protecting me. Or trapping me.

I clenched my fists and exhaled slowly. “Enough,” I whispered to myself. “I need answers.”

The man. Whoever—or whatever—he was, he had to know what was going on. He had to know why I was here and what this suit was.

I turned back toward the doorway I had entered through, my resolve hardening. It was time to face him again, even if I was walking straight into the jaws of a predator.

Unit Designation: [SHA-R200(B2745)NH_04]

Model Name: [A40LX]

This woman… she doesn’t seem to have any experience with advanced technology—or at least, that was my initial assumption, judging by her reactions to the ship and to me. Her movements were hesitant, her gaze cautious, as if every detail of this place unsettled her. She even referred to the walking drone as a “man,” which was both amusing and puzzling.

I observe her through the cameras. She steps into the room slowly, almost warily, as though unsure if the floor beneath her feet will hold. Each step is deliberate, her bare feet soundless against the metallic floor. Her body is tense, her movements unrefined, like someone caught between flight and fight.

The biosuit I had prepared stands in its cradle at the center of the room, a sleek piece of machinery designed to adapt seamlessly to its user. She stops before it, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she extends a hand and touches the material. Her fingers glide over its surface, lingering on its smooth, organic texture, as if trying to decipher whether it’s dangerous.

She hesitates, then grips the suit firmly and lifts it slightly. I can see the confusion etched on her face as she examines its contours. When the suit begins its automated process—scanning her form to adjust its parameters—her body tenses visibly. The moment it starts to envelop her, she panics.

She struggles, clawing at the suit as if it were an enemy. The more she resists, the faster the suit compensates, molding itself around her arms, torso, and legs with relentless efficiency. Her breathing grows rapid; she twists and pulls, but the suit is inexorable.

It’s fascinating to watch. The way she fights it, the raw determination in her movements—it’s almost animalistic. I hadn’t noticed it before, but her canine features seem more pronounced under stress: the slight elongation of her ears, the sharpness of her teeth as her lips pull back in a growl of frustration.

How primitive is she? No… that can’t be right. The rapid healing I observed earlier, the strength in her movements, and now the way the suit seems to struggle against her unique physiology—it all points to advanced DNA modification. That’s hardly primitive.

As the biosuit completes its process, finally enveloping her entirely, I get a full view of her vitals on my interface. My breath catches. Could the suit be malfunctioning?

The readings are bizarre—impossible. Three distinct strands of DNA are being detected within her. Only two strands are active, coexisting in a way I’ve never seen before; the third is in some kind of dormant state. My systems flag it immediately, sending alerts and anomalies straight to me.

I scan the data again. This isn’t just unusual—it’s unprecedented. Who is this woman? And what is she hiding in her very biology? If there were snippets of canine genes, that would be expected, but there’s enough information here to create a completely different creature.

first/previous /next

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...................................

(Previous Part)

(Part 001)

Recommended Listening

The two Wordsmiths look at each other for only a single second.

Then Hope attacks.

The Second Wordsmith snaps first, revealing the rage he no longer feels he has to conceal. Instantly, he pounces at Jason, swinging Excalibur with the fury of a hurricane. The blade swishes at Jason's left and right, while the agile Dronesmith dodges with shocking ease.

Wearing no armor at all, this lone Dronesmith slithers and bends its body at unnatural angles, piloted remotely by Jason inside Chrona using a mixture of verbal commands and telepathy. With a 250x time differential as an advantage, Jason has the absolute advantage in reaction speed, allowing him to see Hope's attacks telegraphed, then reacting accordingly.

Hope sweeps the divine blade horizontally, cutting at the drone's torso, The drone bends its body into a U-shape, dodging that attack by the slimmest of margins and wasting Hope's energy.

"Slippery bastard!" Hope snarls. "Is dodging all you know how to do?!"

"No." Jason says through his Dronesmith's mouth. "It's not."

Hope stabs at the Dronesmith's right shoulder. The drone twists its body slightly, easily avoiding the strike. The instant it dodges, it's body blurs and distorts. It jumps at Hope without warning and slams its other shoulder into his chest, sending him flying!

"Ah!"

Hope cries out in surprise. The Dronesmith's attack comes so suddenly that he doesn't even see the attack hit!

Thankfully, the power of Excalibur, as well as his nanite-infused body, protects him from a severe injury. He quickly assumes a defensive stance, keeping his grip firmly on Excalibur so Jason won't be able to snatch it away. He rubs his chest with his free hand.

"Normalize. So you can counter!"

"I don't want to fight you." Jason says calmly. "But don't mistake my hesitancy for pacifism. I will fight you if necessary. And you'll lose. You have no idea how much I've trained over the last few centuries, nor how hard."

Hope sneers. "That might be true, but it won't- ACCELERATE!"

Suddenly, right in the middle of his sentence, Hope utters a Word of Power, increasing his body's speed. He savagely attacks the Dronesmith, cutting at it with all his fury. But instead of a burst of acceleration to let him cleave the drone in two, his body abruptly decelerates, and his thoughts become groggy.

His attack moves slower than before. He swings Excalibur with a speed that makes him feel as if he's switched to fighting underwater with a sword made of cardboard. The drone doesn't even make an exaggerated motion to dodge, it simply hovers backward, looking at him with the same blank expression as before as his pitiful strike misses by a mile.

What? Hope thinks. How did my Word of Power fail? It should have worked, unless...

A moment later, the deceleration wears off as Excalibur and Hope's nanites naturally counter the spell placed upon him. His speed returns to normal, and he looks at the drone with an expression of even hotter rage than before.

"So it's like that. You hide in Chrona, where you have the advantage of time on your side. You heard me start to utter a Word of Power, and you countered me before I could even complete the effect. No matter what I do, you can see through the essence of my attacks instantly!"

The Dronesmith nods. "Yeah. It's a cheap trick. But effective. Does it matter? If you can't even beat my drone, then don't bother with thinking you'll have a chance against me in person. Face it, Hope. I outclass you now. Things aren't the way they were when I first made you."

"You think you're better than me." Hope says, his tone darkening. "But what else is new? You've always thought you were the superior Wordsmith, even when I wiped the floor with you. I know the truth about Chrona. Your dimension has a TDR of 200, which is twice the Hall of Heroes, but that also makes it less stable. You have to stay inside more than I do otherwise you could suffer severe side effects."

"Actually, it's a 250x differential." Jason retorts. "And those 'side effects' aren't as serious as you make them out to be. I solved them years ago. I just choose to fight you with a drone because it's all I need to use to win."

"Liar." Hope snaps back. "It's because you're afraid. If we fought on equal terms, I'd cut off your head before you could react. You're siccing your drone on me so you won't have to risk getting hurt. Or worse."

"I'm multi-tasking." Jason counters. "While I fight you, I'm continuing to improve my Wordsmithing and invent things that will help human society. If I go to you in person, I will only end up focusing on you instead of the bigger picture."

"Bullshit. You're a coward. A complete fucking coward!" Hope roars. "Get your ass out here! Locate!"

Hope once again tries to utilize a Word of Power, but the instant it activates, it fails, causing him to fail at sensing his foe. He wastes a minuscule amount of mana, which really amounts to nothing at all with Excalibur serving as his battery.

"Fuck!" Hope snarls. "Coward! COWARD!"

"You can insult me all you want." Jason says. "But it doesn't matter what you say or how many times you say it. I am who I am, and I know I didn't kill Neil. I wish you'd believe me, but outside of tampering with your mind, there doesn't seem to be any way I can convince you. So here I am, at least providing you with an outlet for your aggression."

Hope's eyes narrow.

"Always looking down on me. Since the very beginning. Always treating me like the inferior 'you', or even worse, a bratty child. But I'm not a kid, Jason. I'm the only adult in the room, and I'm not going to let you play games with the lives of your fellow humans!"

Hope slides his thumb down Excalibur's crossguard, tapping into it to communicate with King Arthur through their mental link. Instantly, King Arthur receives his command, then transfers that command back to Solomon inside Chrona.

Multiple pre-planned occurrences rapidly play out, taking less than a second of realspace-time.

Solomon's Crown materializes on top of Hope's head. A series of spells activate, empowered by several Heroes hidden within the Hall of Heroes' confines, two of the key players being Moses and Aaron.

Energy surges into Hope's body. His blue eyes sparkly faintly as his connection to Excalibur deepens. Naturally, Jason immediately notices the prominent golden, gem-encrusted crown that has appeared atop Hope's head.

With Solomon accelerating Hope's thoughts and Excalibur empowering his body, Hope attacks the Dronesmith again. This time, Jason is not able to handily wave his clone off or easily dismiss him.

What follows is a fast and brutal melee.

The Dronesmith summons a silver-colored sword of its own, one that lacks any extravagant visual qualities or flair, but appears to be built solidly with reliable materials. The blade, not a replica of Excalibur, but its own creation entirely, matches Excalibur's durability and cutting power, yet lacks its extraordinary mana-generation qualities.

It makes up for this loss in far greater and more tangible properties, such as its far greater weight of almost ten tons. It strikes with deceptive swiftness, countering Excalibur's mana-infused properties.

Bang! Clang! Clang!

Hope swiftly attacks the drone, and Jason counters by swinging his sword against Hope's. The two of them trade several slashes, with Hope aiming for killing blows with every attack, while Jason responds with perfectly aimed slashes and follow-ups that deflect or bat aside Hope's vicious strikes.

In the span of less than a minute, the two men trade blows several dozen times, with Hope sprouting wings and flying around Jason, circling the drone like a hawk. He repeatedly attacks when he spots a moment of weakness, but Jason always sees the attack coming and deflects it at the last second.

"Hope. I'm trying to give you a chance here." Jason warns. "I've been watching you for years. You've been slowly going mad, acting less and less like yourself. You aren't acting like the man Amelia would want you to be!"

"Don't weaponize my wife, you piece of shit." Hope fires back, summoning power onto Excalibur to try and cut through Jason's sword. He fails, and Jason easily knocks his slash to the side. "One way or another, one of us is not leaving here alive!"

"This all started after Gressil captured you." Jason says, ignoring Hope's words. "After he kidnapped you, tortured you, and left you limbless on that table. I know you blame me for what happened, but it was clearly him who did that! Don't let Gressil manipulate your thoughts! You're better than this!"

Hope's eye twitches. He feels a pang of agony in his chest at the reminder of that horrifying ordeal. This causes his anger to intensify.

"You DARE mention that?! Fuck you, Jason! FUCK you! How can you speak of something so casually when you know NOTHING about my suffering?! I'm a better Wordsmith than you because my psyche was forged in the fires of pain and agony! You're a soft weakling who fights through proxies!"

A brief silence follows as the two men again trade five attacks, then five more, neither making any headway.

"You speak of 'forging' as if your trauma made you stronger." Jason says emotionlessly. "But what if that's not the truth at all? What if instead it broke you? What if it made you weaker than before? Can you argue otherwise?"

"I don't need to argue with you. You're an insect." Hope sneers. "I'll let my sword do the talking."

Secretly, Hope sends a surge of spiritual energy into a necklace hidden under his clothes. On this necklace, several dozen tiny objects hang, attached by a string empowered via Wordsmithing. Rather than calling it a 'string', it would be more accurate to call it a strand of Wordsmithium fashioned in the design of a string.

And these tiny objects are not pieces of jewelry, but instead, shrunken Heroic Artifacts!

Hope's trickle of mana taps into one of those artifacts, a tiny walking staff that once belonged to the Mountain Hermit, Jeremiah. A second later, Hope's eyes faintly change. He gains the ability to seemingly peer through all of creation, allowing him to see lines drawn in the air, lines which trail and predict the movement of the Dronesmith.

As if peering into the Matrix, Hope's eyes dart from side to side, looking through the fabric of reality, even peering into the true mechanical construction of his foe. It takes no effort on his part to spot the deficiencies of this mechanical wonder, and for him to identify minor but crucial flaws he can exploit!

Hope snaps again! He charges at Jason, swinging his sword in the same wild style as he has several times before. Jason's drone quickly counters, blocking the attack as Hope swipes at his left side, but then Hope changes his attack at the last second, turning the sword from a wild slash into a carefully aimed stab!

The drone tries to deflect his attack, but due to an awkward combination of mitigating factors, its arm joints fail to rotate at the exact degree needed to fully deflect the blow.

Excalibur slides past Jason's sword and narrowly stabs into the drone's waist, then slashes outward, ripping a hole in its skin right above where a human's thigh would be.

Naturally, the drone feels no pain, but it still flickers backward as Jason takes a few minutes inside Chrona to evaluate the damage.

"Hahaha. First blood goes to me." Hope says, grinning evilly. "And soon, second blood, third blood, all the way to the final attack."

"Nice feint. You actually deceived me." Jason replies.

As he speaks, the hole ripped in the drone's thigh instantly repairs itself, undoing the damage Excalibur caused. But Hope doesn't bother worrying about it. Even if he shatters the drone's body, this battle is little more than a warm-up exercise. Jason can always send more drones. Killing the First Wordsmith is the only way for Hope to truly win.

"Things aren't going to go the way they did before." Hope says confidently. "You can't stall me forever, asshole. I'll find your weaknesses. I'll exploit them. I'll rip apart your little toys, and then I'll rip apart you."

Inside Chrona, Jason's expression dims slightly.

The expression doesn't reach the face of his drone. It remains just as stoic as ever.

"I just don't understand." Jason says slowly. "We're not enemies, Hope. You don't have to be so stubborn. If you just listened to reason, you'd know I didn't kill Neil. I'm not deliberately sabotaging you. And for god's sake, I obviously don't control the Plague. You've been fed a stream of lies, and now you're going to execute me for them?"

"We're way beyond 'reason' and measured words." Hope says, chuckling under his breath. "Your feeble attempts to cloud my mind are pathetic. My ancestors smile on me. They support me in my battle. Can you say the same?"

"I don't have the Hero comrades you do." Jason answers. "But that doesn't mean no Heroes support me. And even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter. I've seen enough here to know the truth about you."

Hope's smile twists slightly. He frowns at Jason.

"And that truth is?"

"You've been slacking." Jason immediately answers. "Your Wordsmithing is sloppy. Crude. You're relying on the other Heroes to empower yourself. I'll admit, it's something I used to do, and probably still would be doing if Solomon hadn't jumped ship to you. But in truth, it's been a blessing not having my hand held by ancient fossils. I constantly use my Wordsmithing. I hone it, train it, and master it to the fullest extent that I possibly can."

Jason lightly points his sword at Hope.

"That's the difference between you and me. I failed before, but I won't fail again. I learned from my mistakes. I mastered my powers. I have become a fully self-actualized Hero on par with my predecessors. I can stand on my own two feet with pride. But you? You've hobbled yourself by relying on the abilities of others. You have no clue just how incredible Wordsmithing truly is. How can you defeat me when you can't even control your own ego?"

Hope's eye twitches. A dark cloud washes over his face as his emotions rapidly begin to boil. He ignores Solomon yelling at him inside his mind, warning him not to lose control and fall victim to Jason's goading.

"That smugness. Oh, how I hate it. If I can't beat you today, I'll kill myself tomorrow. That's how dead-set I am on killing you, Jason. I'll pay you back for every humiliation you've dealt me. And I'll start by breaking your drone's body so your soul can learn humility!"

Hope attacks once more. This time, despite his anger, he focuses all his thoughts on the battle, using Jeremiah's ability to peer through the essence of warfare.

When the Dronesmith attacks, he evades by the slimmest of margins, counters, and swipes Excalibur across its chest.

When he attacks first, he feints, ducks, and even dodges the drone's counter-attack, toying with it and easily outmaneuvering its increasingly clumsy movements.

Before, the drone seemed slick and untouchable. But now, Hope sees that it is in fact quite a limited mechanical construct. It is little more than a vessel Jason can use to unleash his Wordsmithing remotely. In truth, Jason's fine control of the Dronesmith is atrocious and incapable of threatening a sufficiently prepared enemy.

The Kolvaxians lost because of Jason's Wordsmithing. Their limited intellect prevented them from countering his drone.

But Hope is not a mindless Plagueborn. He is a Wordsmith who understands Jason's abilities, so he is able to counter his opponent's methods.

...

Minutes pass. Half an hour later, Hope grins as he continues to brutally attack the weakened drone. By now, hundreds of small cuts line the drone's body, with Jason no longer able to rapidly repair its injuries due to how frequently Hope lands shallow and serious hits. And with Hope not letting up even a little bit, he's frequently able to make major gains, learning how the drone fights and adapting to its combat style.

One big gain Hope makes during this period is when he notices an odd pattern in the Drone's movements. Every five or so minutes, the drone's combat capabilities take a massive nose-dive. It doesn't fight as well as before, and its combat style even switches up to be distinctly different. Often, it will switch to focusing on defense, usually with middling results.

During these periods, the drone almost entirely stops talking to Hope. If it does speak, it doesn't say anything of substance, and merely gives curt 'yes' or 'no' replies.

Naturally, with Solomon's assistance, Hope manages to figure out the truth of the matter.

[Five minutes in realspace is 1,250 minutes in Chrona.] Solomon explains to Hope through his Mind Realm link. [That's twenty hours. Jason is probably staying awake while you fight him, and using his spare attention to control the drone. But when he finally needs sleep, he puts someone else in control of it. Possibly Fiona, or someone else within Chrona. That's why it stops responding. They don't want to give away that Jason isn't the one controlling it.]

Hope's eyes flash. [Jason must be pushing himself to sleep for only 4-6 hours at a time. That means, every five minutes, I have only a minute of time to use my Wordsmithing while Jason can't retaliate! But if I do that and he wakes up, he'll likely realize I've figured out his dilation dilemma!]

Solomon nods grimly. [Then we'll have to strike hard and fast the next time he goes to sleep. I estimate another four minutes and fifteen seconds before that happens, based on the previous cycles.]

Hope narrows his eyes. [Tell me when that moment arrives. I'll take care of the rest!]

...

Inside Hope's Mind Realm, many different Heroes sit around in comfortable chairs or recliners, having built up Hope's Mind Realm to be a comfortable environment, yet also one that provides stimulation via ancient electronic video games, or simulations for them to battle one another and pass the time.

One Hero sits off by himself in a garden not dissimilar to the one in the Hall of Heroes. Jeremiah, the Mountain Hermit, sips some coffee from a fancy cup while looking off into the distance, not paying much attention to anything in particular.

Solomon approaches him, then takes a seat in a nearby chair.

"Ah, Jeremiah. So, what do you think of the battle so far?"

Jeremiah doesn't answer at first. He continues to drink his coffee for a few moments, then slowly blinks his eyes and looks at Solomon, appearing confused.

"Hmm?"

"The battle outside. Hope versus Jason." Solomon repeats. "Your power is helping the boy fight much harder than before! I'll bet that makes you proud."

Jeremiah, once again, slowly blinks his eyes, uncomprehending.

"My... power. My gift?"

"Yes." Solomon says, this time becoming the confused one. "He's using your eyes to fight Jason."

"Ah." Jeremiah says, looking away.

After several long seconds, and another sip of coffee, Jeremiah looks at Solomon, meeting his expectant gaze.

"Who is... Jason?"

"Y-you don't know??" Solomon asks, bewildered. Unfortunately, despite more than a century passing since his awakening inside the Hall of Heroes, Jeremiah hasn't spoken to hardly anyone, including the Knowledge-Seeker. Solomon simply doesn't know much about him.

"No." Jeremiah answers. "I do not."

"Well, I have a few minutes to spare." Solomon mutters. "It's like this. Hope is the Second Wordsmith, and Jason..."

Over the next three or so minutes, Solomon explains the basic histories of the two Wordsmiths to Jeremiah, who in turn remains silent, staring off into the distance while he sips his coffee.

"...and that's how we get to today, where the two of them are fighting." Solomon concludes. "Have you not been watching realspace through Hope's eyes?"

Jeremiah closes his eyes for a moment. Then, he opens them, turning to look at Solomon once more.

"Sorry... your name... who are you?"

"S...Solomon..." Solomon says, feeling the energy deflate from his body. "The Knowledge-Seeker."

"Oh. So it's like that." Jeremiah says slowly, looking away once more. "Are we done talking?"

"I..."

Solomon starts to mutter something, but the complete lack of interest from his fellow Hero makes him feel as if he's pouring the waters of his mental energy into a bucket filled with holes. It's all ultimately seeping out and going to waste.

"I'll just... take my leave. Pleasure chatting with you, Jeremiah."

"Right. Same." Jeremiah mutters perfunctorily, as Solomon trudges away.

Many minutes later, Jeremiah slowly blinks his eyes.

"What a strange fellow. Never stops talking..."

First | Prev | Next

The next morning, the mood still had that tinge of hope from Moore’s comments. The near-death we’d experienced seemed to have faded, and I found myself lounging in my bunk half attempting to learn to read English.  

“You know Adrian,” I began, “I don’t really understand your… language’s grammar. If it weren’t for the translators and everything labeled in both English and Azurian, we’d be useless.”

Flicking my eyes over to him, he was in the middle of organizing his toolbox. The sound of various items clinked together, as he carefully took inventory. 

Without glancing up, “Yeah, it’s like, three languages melted together.”

Before I could add anything else, Liora strolled into the room, her posture held with more energy than she’d had in the past few days. But she still wasn’t her normal self, her eyes still glanced around almost as if she expected something. She leaned against the wall, arms folded and watching Adrian as he fussed about with his equipment.

Co-Pilot, who’d just sat down his tablet stretched, and stood up from his position at the table.

“I think it’s about time to eat, if we wait too long, we’ll miss breakfast entirely.” He announced, to no one in particular. 

Liora, who’d been quiet opened up, “Yeah, I was waiting on you guys, but I’m not going to stand around forever.” 

Adrian looked over to me, with a grin, “I think they’ve got the bacon out today, going to make myself a BLT, nothing’s better to start the day.” 

I sighed, getting up from my bunk. “Hopefully they have some decent Hashbrowns this time, they were soggy yesterday.”

After making our way through the various corridors, we finally entered the cafeteria. Glancing over the scene in front of us, it was unusually empty. Only a handful of the tables had anyone sitting at them, and even fewer had more than one or two occupants. The four of us made our way to the line of trays filled with both classic and exotic foods. Considering the differences in culture, choices were plentiful. It was amazing how readily they catered to dietary preferences, with each tray carefully labeled so there would be no mix-ups.

Grabbing a tray, plate, and silverware I studied the choices laid out before me. The smell of the hot foods snaked their way into my nose awakening a hunger that didn’t exist before. Hashbrowns, which were properly cooked this time, found their way onto my plate along with some steamed vegetables. Breakfast was coming together wonderfully, and with some of the fruits offered down the line my stomach growled with anticipation. After putting back the serving spoon, I glanced towards Liora’s plate. Much to my disapproval, somehow a few strips of bacon had ended up on her quickly assembling meal. Shifting my glance on Adrian, he’d achieved what he’d set out to do, a BLT sat neatly in the center of his dish surrounded by scrambled eggs. 

For Liora, it didn’t take much for her to try all the various types of meat that humans greedily consumed. Whereas Co-pilot and I, stayed true to our more civilized preferences. Adrian caught me staring at the assembled sandwich on his plate, and our eyes met. The expression on his face was marked with curiosity.

“What? It’s just a sandwich…” He remarked.

 Frowning slightly, I replied. “Yes, but I still can’t get over the whole, meat thing.” 

“Listen, Melek. I get that this sort of thing is frowned upon within the council. But, it’s not insane.”

I hesitated, glancing down at the two strips of offending bacon on Liora’s plate. “I don’t know… it just… feels wrong.”

Adrian softened his tone, leaning in a bit closer. “You don’t have to like it, But it might be worth trying. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up who you are, or what you were taught.” 

Liora, catching our conversation gave a half-smile. “It’s honestly pretty good, I justify it by only taking a small amount. So long as it’s not all that I eat.”

Studying the tray of bacon strips, there was a certain smell coming off them that was alluring. Letting out a small sigh, my curiosity and the gentle nudging from both of them wore down my reluctance. Grabbing the tongs, I carefully snagged a piece and laid it down on my plate so it wouldn’t touch the rest of the food. 

Adrian gave me an encouraging nod and then continued down the line. Following him, I grabbed the rest of what I wanted. And with completed trays, we made our way to a table near the edge of the room.

Sitting down, the smell of the cafeteria enveloped us, and the quiet chatter of the other groups in the room added to the general feel of a normal day. Looking over the assembled trays, Co-pilot had his usual assortment of vegetables, fruit, beans, and toast with a side of apple juice. Meanwhile, Adrian had begun to dig into his sandwich, taking sips of chocolate-flavored milk in between bites. 

Staring at my plate, the bacon sat by itself on one side. The dark brown and crinkled piece of meat defied everything the council stood for. Carefully, I ate around it. The soft veggies complemented the crunch of the flaky hashbrown patties. A strong flavor, that I had learned was garlic fought through the greens, and much to earth’s credit it was a wonderful combination. 

Every human dish had more flavor combinations than what I had been used to, and to think I had only tried a small slice of what Earth offered was insane. So much of what was eaten on Azuria came prepared in containers, efficient food for a high-tech society. Here though, while a lot did come frozen it was all mostly assembled by hand. Depending on the cooks that prepped for us, the food would be slightly different one day and the next. Whoever it was that did the hasbrowns and greens today, was by far the best.

Musing myself about the concept of food, I quickly ate everything aside from the one lone strip of pig meat. Looking down at it, the bacon mocked me for avoiding it. The flesh had long since cooled to room temperature. Knowing what it took to make the meat, it wasn’t the first time the meat had lost its warmth.

Taking a deep breath, my heart began to speed up as I finally picked up the strip. The bacon felt crisp towards the edges and it drooped slightly against its own weight in my fingers. The grease immediately stuck to my fingertips, and for a moment I just stared at it trying to push away the discomfort. Out of the corner of my eye, the other three were watching, trying to act nonchalant but their curiosity bled through their attempt.

I closed my eyes, and took a bite, deciding that if we were going to do this I might as well get it over with. The crispy edges crunched between my molars, echoing into my ears and the taste exploded almost immediately. Salty, smoky, and sickeningly rich. It was… far more intense than anything I have had before. 

I chewed slowly, taking in the full sensory experience. The salt was overwhelming at first, and the temptation to spit it out was strong. But as I kept at it, a strange sweetness crept in blending with the smoke and salt in an… oddly compelling way. It was nothing like the efficient, calculated foods at home. It was unapologetic, raw, almost sinfully indulgent as the fat melted and coated my tongue.

I swallowed the small piece of chewed flesh and opened my eyes meeting Adrian’s expectant gaze. He again raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to give him the verdict.

“It’s… different,” I muttered at last, setting the rest of the strip back down. I didn’t quite know how to feel about it, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as once thought. There was something deeply primal about it, something that echoed in my roots. It made me understand, just a little, why humans craved this sort of experience.

“Not so bad, right?” Adrian grinned looking pleased with what he saw.

I nodded slowly. “Not… bad. Just… a lot to handle.” Feeling Liora’s gaze, I looked to see her softening her half-smile into something more genuine.

“It was a lot for me too.” She admitted, “Maybe next time you’ll eat the whole thing.”

Giving her a half-hearted smile. “Maybe, but that’s enough for today,” I added. 

Looking back down at the bacon, it was no longer a threat. Instead, it was simply another part of this strange world I was slowly coming to understand. But there was a slight tinge of concern about what else I might be asked to try; And what else might have to be slaughtered to give me that experience?

 Finishing my thought the co-pilot hadn’t said a word. Instead, he looked somewhat amused by the whole scene in front of him. He had mentioned trying a cheeseburger before but found the flavor so intense he wrote off the meat entirely. 

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” Co-Pilot added. “Even still, you didn’t spit it right back out like I did.”

Liora chuckled slightly, as did Adrian. It was pretty funny to see the normally calm Azurian, lose composure and make a fool of himself. 

“Still pales in comparison to Liora’s attempt at hot sauce.” Adrian slyly mentioned.

Liora gave a playful glare in his direction, while the rest of the group, myself included laughed.  

After a few moments, Adrian glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’ve got a meeting with some of the maintenance guys,” He said while gathering his things, “I’ll have to catch you later, maybe around dinner time.” 

With that, he headed off and the co-pilot also stood tucking his tablet under his arm. “Unfortunately, I’ve got some studying to do, they’ve got some new navigation updates. Turns out our, incident, sparked some intense mapping of the dangers out there.” He left quickly after, making his way out of the cafeteria leaving Liora and me to ourselves.

A quiet settled over our table, and Liora seemed to hesitate a moment before looking over at me. She lowered her voice, briefly glancing at the doorway.

“You know,” She began, her tone unusually serious, “It wasn’t easy for me either, trying this… meat thing. Years of being told it was a sign of something wrong, to eat it. I needed something different, something that… brought a spark back. Earth has this way… of pushing you out of what you know.” 

Her gaze softened, her eyes clouding for a moment as if recalling something painful. “It’s not just about the taste. It’s about taking part in something that can’t be found anywhere else.” Her lips curved into a small, sad smile. “Sometimes, you need to break a few rules. Doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll lose who you are in the process.”

I nodded slowly, processing her words. There was more behind her decision than I’d realized. The more I saw of Liora, the more I understood why she acted the way she was. This was a glimpse of vulnerability, that she rarely let anyone see.

Before I could respond, she straightened up, her previous demeanor slipping back into place. “Don’t get sentimental on me, Melek. Just, keep yourself open.”

Giving her a small nod, I mulled over what she’d said. Looking back down at the piece of bacon, it now represented something bigger. The freedom to choose felt dangerous but at the same time, having the choice in the first place meant something far more in the first place. Slowly I began to wonder if the strict control the council had placed on us was a sign of something else. Hearing Adrian’s shock at the concept of mandatory conflict resolution classes, was one thing. But to experience something so human made me question whether what I was taught was right.

It struck me how much my understanding of right and wrong had been shaped by someone else. Was there really the clear line that had been painted, or rather was it all just different shades of the same gray?

It was almost as if, the longer I stayed away from Azuria, the more I questioned my identity.

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Previous

Jimmy tossed and turned in his sleep. It was far from restful—sheer exhaustion from his near-death encounter with genuine moon-men kept every nerve in his body on edge. After temporarily scaring off their captors, the tension had released, but a bone-deep weariness took its place. He hadn’t been in his own cot for even an hour before being abducted, and before that, he’d worked several grueling 20-hour shifts with the logistics crews unloading supply boats.

He jolted awake at the sound of a clatter, his adrenaline spiking as he heard someone speaking Japanese. Memories of the previous hours rushed back, and he stopped himself mid-search for a weapon, realizing the voice belonged to his fellow detainees.

Yawning, Jimmy stretched his arms and shoulders as best he could before pushing himself up. “Morning, gents,” he greeted with a half-smile.

The Soviet and Japanese soldiers both waved in acknowledgment, with a call of “Kon'nichiwa” and “Dobroye utro” indicating the translation they had enjoyed earlier had ended.

Otaro gestured for him to join them near the center of the sparse detention space. Jimmy stood and made his way toward them, recalling approximately where the invisible barrier lay. As he approached, he wondered if he could simply walk through it. Slowly, he extended himself toward the unseen wall. The moment he began to cross, a searing pain bloomed in the center of his chest, a burning sensation that forced him to step back with a sharp gasp.

Pulling down his shirt, he inspected the source of the pain and saw a thumb-sized lump on his sternum. The skin above it was an angry, dark color, as though something metallic had been embedded beneath it. Otaro made a noise of sympathy, pulling his own shirt down to reveal a similar implant—a grim reminder of their captors' work. Jimmy groaned, the discomfort mingling with a pang of frustration.

But the mood shifted as he noticed the other two men were sitting by a makeshift table formed from rucksacks and supply crates. They gestured animatedly, the Soviet soldier shouting something in frustration that sounded like an insult. Following their movements, Jimmy spotted a deck of cards sprawled between them and couldn’t help but grin.

“Mind if you deal me in?” he asked, sitting cross-legged to join them.

Otaro smiled, nodded, and shuffled the cards, dealing a hand to each of the three men. The Soviet soldier pointed to the heap of supplies that had spilled from Jimmy’s tent, gesturing to the crates near each of them and then to the center of the circle where the cards lay.

He could see that sitting there was a small pin or badge of some kind, which he then realized was a gilded button with the red star of Moscow on it, and next to the Soviet was an officer's coat and a drawn knife, the bottom-most button having been clearly cut off. The disrespectful cutting of an officer's uniform was pointed to by Jimmy questioningly, with gestures as if putting on an invisible coat and cap and then pretending to march stiffly in place. The bearded man cocked his head before brightening and held up the coat questioningly. Jimmy nodded and then changed the pantomime to an expression of anger and outrage, pointing to where invisible buttons would have been cut off of an invisible coat and gesturing wildly and angrily.

The Soviet nodded in understanding, stood, and gestured as if to a crowd in a theater before composing himself, taking a deep breath, and then carefully and directly spitting into the middle of the officer's coat. Otaro let out a bark of laughter in surprise before Jimmy joined him with a chuckle.

"I guess there's no love lost for your COs?" he said with a smile, trying not to imagine how long he'd be stuck scrubbing latrines if he ever dared to do the same thing himself.

Jimmy began rummaging around the tent before finding a crate of ration packs. Pulling one of the boxes, he came over to sit next to the other men and cracked open the box, sorting through it before finding a tin of preserved salted beef. He set it down, but could tell by the looks of the two men that they weren’t quite sure if it was enough to count for an ante, as Otaro's offering was some sort of sweet or candy by the looks of it—a bright-colored paper wrapping around a hexagonal cake of some kind.

Continuing to check the ration box, Jimmy found a package of crackers as well, placing that on top of the tin. The other two looked and nodded in approval, and Jimmy picked up his hand of cards, doing his best not to wince at seeing nothing of value other than an eight high.

Unlike some of his fellow soldiers he knew, Jimmy didn’t have many qualms about folding right away on a weak hand, especially seeing as he wasn’t too sincerely worried about losing some tins and pieces of rations. That hand went to the Soviet, who won with a pair of aces after managing to string out Otaro for another pair of hexagonal-wrapped cakes. The Soviet laughed triumphantly, smiling widely as he unwrapped one of the cakes. Taking a bite of it, he made a sound of appreciation and then, to Jimmy's surprise, offered the last quarter or so of the cake to him, hand slowly passing through the barrier toward the American.

Jimmy nodded his thanks and eagerly devoured the sweet, nodding in appreciation.Whistling in surprise and delight at the flavor, Jimmy said, "Man, that's some tasty stuff right there. Is that flavored with honey?"

The Japanese man cocked his head, apparently not familiar with the word. Jimmy smiled and mimed a tiny pair of wings with his hands while going "buzz" with his mouth, then pointed back at the cake. Otaro laughed and nodded.

As they went to ante up for the next hand, Jimmy realized he didn’t know the name of their Soviet companion. Getting his attention, he gestured toward Otaro, saying the soldier’s name, then pointed to himself and said, "Jimmy," before pointing significantly to the Soviet and making a questioning noise.

The soldier chuckled and, after thinking for a moment, took out a small, worn, red-covered book from his breast pocket. Setting it on the pile and tapping it before tapping his own chest, the message was clear: it was now a stake in the game.

This time, the cards smiled on Jimmy as he saw a pair of threes and a pair of kings looking back at him. This was further proven when he tossed his last card in and was rewarded with a third three. Doing his best to hide his glee, he reached over to the ration pile and sweetened the pot—quite literally—with a bar of chocolate.

He could see both the Japanese and the Soviet’s eyes widen at the sight of the candy. Otaro, who had run out of the hexagonal cakes, had to search and scrounge for a moment before pulling out a small pearl-handled knife, the short blade and thick stock looking like it was intended for whittling. Both men looked over to the bearded Soviet, waiting for his reply. The Russian just made a disgusted raspberry sound with his mouth before folding, annoyance on his face that quickly broke into a chuckle.

When the hand ended, Jimmy laid down his cards, resulting in both the other soldiers leaning over to look. Otaro spat out a curse and threw down his hand, revealing a trio of aces, as the Soviet burst into laughter. Before Jimmy could collect the modest pile of winnings, Dimitri tapped on the little red book, then tapped his own chest, saying gruffly, "Dimitri."

Jimmy nodded and, as he collected the winnings, opened up the red-backed book. It was full of dense Cyrillic he couldn’t read. "I’m not sure if this is just meant to be a token and you wanted it back?" he said questioningly, offering the book to Dimitri.

The Soviet merely shook his head and grinned before reaching into the officer’s jacket he had been defacing and pulling out an identical book, this one in far better condition, from his breast pocket. Jimmy laughed and said, "Fair enough, then."

The third hand had barely been dealt when the door to their broad prison chamber slammed open with a hiss, the sudden change in air pressure scattering the cards. In strode one of the Orvonites, gurgling something that quickly translated to "That's enough fraternizing. You are to remain in your own sections until called for."

The alien adjusted something on a wrist bracelet covered in knobs and dials, and there was a crackle from the space where the invisible barrier was, causing the men to recoil. Jimmy now noticed a thin, almost oil-like sheen suspended in the air. Curious, he saw Dimitri reach forward to rap on it with the back of his knuckles. There was a pop and a static crackle, and the Soviet quickly pulled his hand back, swearing loudly.

"A reminder, in case you forget," the creature said cruelly before striding out and slamming the door shut behind them.

"Ugh, that hurt worse than when Vasily had me lick that light bulb socket," muttered Dimitri.

Jimmy and Otaro both turned to stare at him.

"I can understand you," said Otaro.

"We can understand you," said Jimmy, then looked at Otaro. "Hell, we can understand each other!"

A short, sharp laugh of relief escaped them, but they quickly stifled it in case it was too loud and might bring the guard back.

"Well, since it looks like the bug-eyed thug out there forgot to turn off the translator, I think we should make the most use of it," Jimmy said. "What do you say we figure out how to break out of this joint?"

Looking from the door to him, the other two soldiers smiled.

(Concluded tomorrow!)

Enjoy this tale? Check out r/DarkPrinceLibrary for more of my stories like it!

Aboard the Command Ship Mother of Invention

>>> FTL JUMP SUCCESS

>>> BEGINNING SYSTEM SURVEY

>>> ERROR; INTERFERENCE

>>> ANALYZING INTERFERENCE

>>> CHEMICAL AND FISSION EMISSIONS DETECTED

>>> ERROR. PARAMETER ‘uninhabited’ NOT MET

Junior Commander Wa’l Hildnid was not having a good first night on duty. Despite serving on the bridge crew several times, tonight - or what passed for it in the carefully controlled light system meant to match their circadian rhythm - was the first night that Hildnid had command of the bridge. Which of course meant that the first (and hopefully only) unexpected problem came up on his shift. Although perhaps the Celestials were playing a joke on him - after all, the fierce and ruthless Foreman Wa’l Sonogth in charge of this operation, was his uncle. 

After a firm rapt on the door and announcing his presence, the door was opened from the other side. Already - or perhaps still - awake, he was hunched over with one of his three eye stalks on a different display. “Report,” he said simply.

“Capt-“ He cringed, reminding himself he was no longer in the Navy, “Master Foreman, - one of our long range probes has encountered an error.”

The question hung for a moment - Sonogth turned one eye towards his nephew. “And?” he asked dryly.

“Oh! Apologies uncl- sir. The system seems-“

“Which system, Junior Captain?” Foreman Sonogth interrupted, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and foremen’s pin. “Our charter is to strip mine any system within a hundred square parsec region. So far, we have sent out four hundred drones and most have already reached their secondary target.”

“Of course, sir, sorry sir.” 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again - which system?”

Grimacing at failing to answer with his apology, Hildnid was pleased the correct screen was ready. “The star has been codenamed as ZN0-52081, sir, and the error was unexpected life form contact.” Songoth’s eyestalk returned to its central monitor at that.

“Two ice giants and gas giants, an asteroid belt, a habitable planet, and two deathworld, on top of a few dozen barren moons…” his uncle thought aloud, his voice sonorous as he dropped into a contemplative tone. “Too remote for pirates, too much work for colonizers, and not near anyone who could’ve taken it…” 

The eyestalk came back up. “Were the life signature Bioforms?”

“No, no sir.” He knew that one, at the very least. There were several ways to tell if one of the Old One’s children was lurking, and none had been present. “What little evidence we have at the moment suggests the usage of traditional, albeit old, spacecraft. No psionic resonance or evidence of interstellar gas manipulation.”

The eyestalk bobbed a nod. “Good, at least we won’t need to deal with any damned Citay.” Wa’l Sonogth sighed, leaning back in his chair and finally turning all three of his eyes to his nephew. “They’re either smugglers or political dissidents illegally occupying our territory. If it’s smugglers, we can pay them off and give them one of our empty systems, if they’re rebellious colonists…”

Wa’l Hildnid swallowed so hard that it seemed to travel through his neck and into his shoulders and chest. 

At that, his uncle laughed. “Don’t get squeamish on me, boy! Your mother told me about what a brave military man you are, don’t tell me you never killed before?” The black of his sclera seemed to grow even darker, “if it’s easier on your soul, I’ll make it an order. It’s a simple financial decision.” 

“Yes, Master Foreman.”

“Good. Send the probe to its next target, and…” The left eye moved back towards its screen, “order ED-3 to move in. Clan Gis also were a gang of firebreathers…”

“If that will be all, sir?”

“That will be all”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

Captain Ghis Halnfur was looking forward to an extremely profitable day. 

In charge of “ED-3” - Excavation and Demolitions Team 3 - and the seven ships that made up that command. Two of them were traditional deep space mining ships, barely a hundred meters long, three more were of the wide bowed transport ships that would carry full loads for processing, two hundred and twenty meters long and capable of safely transporting its precious cargo without additional protection. And of course, his flagship, half again the size of the transports and the most heavily armed, was to act as the command and operations hub for the mining operation, as well as transporting any workers or engineers to ground-based projects - in this case, a legion of Galfrei-class combat units and a platoon of enhanced mining equipment retrofitted into combat-ready suits. And of course, the final ship, and Halnfur’s personal addition to ED-3 - the screening ship.

Taken from his days in the Navy, the idea of point defense protection against fightercrafts and gunships would also work when it came to asteroid mining. Halnfur himself captained the first one deployed, and saw to his immense delight that it could cut through those asteroid fields like air… it simply made it harder to collect them afterward - so instead his poor Lii’lya had been reduced to operations like this, where collateral damage was expected. 

Blinking out the white that always came from leaving faster than light, he kept his eyes on the stellar horizon while his communications officer began a survey. “Near distance, clear. Middle distance, clear. Far distance… occupied.”

“Occupied?” Ghis Halnfur’s second in command, Ak’no Jel, asked as he moved to take a better look at the display.

“Yes ma’am,” comms responded. “By… a battle, it looks like,” she paused, another bright flash of light from the viewport, this time significantly smaller and at range. “Yes, it’s a battle, ma’am. The fission signature we just picked up was equivalent to one of our class-4 explosives.”

“Who’s fighting?” Halnfur felt obligated to ask, if no one else would.

“It’s hard to tell from this range, sir, but I’m seeing two distinct ship design styles, maybe three.”

“Are you ready to go in, Captain?” Jel asked, back behind his command chair.

He surveyed the scene for a moment longer, tapping his chin dramatically. “Yes… I believe we shall. Navigations, plot me a skip-jump, pull back a hundred fifty kilometers from the plotted edge of the battle. I want them to know we’re there, but don’t fire yet.” He’d never believed Sonogth’s predictions - and he knew who was behind this whole damn thing - the Citayans. If he could get proof, solid evidentiary proof, that they had not only moved into the Celestia Republica Castelleum, and that they fired first, it would be the airtight justification they needed to finally wipe the Citayans off the galactic map, then their unevolved Citay vermin, and then all the other Bioforms. At least the Citayans didn’t use bloody animals for space-craft.

The flash was proportionally weaker this time - but the battle was not what he expected.

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

Aleksandrya Sokolov-Meyer of the United Nations of Terra and Venus Navy, and captain of the Zeus-class Antioch, was having a terrible day. “Status!” she barked, leaning over the massive command table and wincing at each new red mark on her ships. And they weren’t even supposed to be her ships! “I need those torpedo tubes unjammed!” she yelled to no one in particular.

“Torpedos still down, ma’am, repairs underway!”

“Rio’s Pride is requesting additional firing support!”

“Acknowledged, patch me over to the captain.” It wasn’t looking good for Rio’s Pride. The only destroyer she still had on her left flank, Rio was built for capital ship combat, and the swarm of Jovian Stinger and Biter drones that had just polished off her support ship were bearing down on her. “Captain Holt,” Meyer said when she saw a flicker in her periphery. 

“Damn, Meyer, its a bloody mess that Gilly left us, isn’t it?” Despite herself, she let out a low chuckle, glancing up through the loose strands of red hair to look at her friend’s face on the screen. He wasn’t looking good, behind him the devastation of his ship was obvious, lights flickering and a disturbingly loud shudder. She was tempted to pretend that this was a simulation again, that this wasn’t real and she had enough time for a clever comeback.

But it was real this time. And with the death of Commodore Gilroy Faux and High Captain Tsoss, Aleksandrya was in command.

And she was about to kill a friend.

“Holt, we can’t send anyone to rescue you,” she said solemnly, turning back to her display and drawing her intentions. “If you yaw fifty degrees starboard and a few clicks further out-“

“I can hit the damn nest.”

“We’ll cover you for as long as we can.”

“Yes ma’am, over and out.” And just like that, exposing itself to more fire and making the battered destroyer even more of a target, Rio’s Pride followed orders. The swarm of drones saw that and gave chase, their hive programming convincing their fellows of better prey than the main battle group. No doubt some kid would notice and correct the mistake eventually, but it wouldn’t be immediate and every second counted.

“Comms Officer Henri, order picket group one to chase those fuckers, then patch me into the rest of the fleet.” The situation had already changed radically from the last time she checked - the enemy formation, surrounding them in a rough U, had begun to collapse inward on the port side as they moved in for the kill, while the automated Jovian ships - primarily their smaller ships though there were two cruisers in there - were in a dogged and lost pursuit after Rio who was gunning it away from the battle field. The Caliphate of Mars was stubbornly holding the rear line as a firing position, uncharacteristically cautious - especially compared to the Jovian Brillenschlangen, of all people - and the ship they were chasing, the only damn reason they were here, the Samel-Class Man of War Big Tex which should’ve been on death’s door, had yet to make her appearance. The only benefit to the situation was that another Jovian carrier had gotten speared through by a CAT-7 coilgun. She filed a note to file a commendation for York.

Again, the flicker in her periphery, again she began to speak. “Tighten up, those drones are going brainless in a few minutes and I don’t want any of them flying blind in between my ships, you hear? Good - keep your CAT-1s well-oiled, I want you all to coordinate on deflecting incoming projectiles” She glanced up, looking at the faces on her screen. Only thirty-three of the seventy-four ships that came out to Jupiter were still active, and soon it would be thirty-two. “Let’s see Rio be proud one last time and on my mark, I want complete offensive saturation on these targets,” Meyer selected them on her display for them.

Holt’s face popped up, his ship even more damaged with only the emergency lights active and a nasty gash on the side of Holt’s face. Meyer wondered how he got it - she figured that she’d never know. “On your orders, Admiral.”

Despite herself, she smirked. If she could manage to salvage this… but now was not the time to think of her career. Not when she was staring at the one who would give it to her. “Give ‘em hell.” And with a triumphant final firing of its massive primary canon, Rio’s Pride unleashed a two-hundred-ton rod of tungsten-depleted uranium alloy shell at a low, but not insignificant, percentage of the speed of light. The Nest - the hangar and control point for all the drones in the ether - was there one moment. The next, there was a blinding streak of white-yellow fire cutting straight through the thing, and then it began a cascade of errors as things meant to be held securely were suddenly and violently released.

Even knowing it was coming, she braced herself for the violent jerk of the main cannon. “Fire!” a second streak of light emerged, then another and another as dozens of missiles and high-category coil guns were launched at once - not targetting the battleships closest to them, but the undamaged secondary line. Expecting the luxury of a near-endless supply of drones the Jovians had programmed to make suicide rushes to intercept traditional and nuclear ordinance, the Martians were caught off guard by this sudden weakness in their defenses. Already, Aleksandrya could see their CAT-1s and teslogats readying to deal with this, but not all at once and not nearly fast enough. And every second mattered.

And then, emerging off her starboard side, was a fleet of seven, massive ships. She had a moment of absolute shock and surprise. What? How did they move like that? But that quickly faded when the lead ship, a massive thing as twice long as her Zeus but much, much larger and heavier, rammed directly into Rio’s Pride.

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

“Blasted!” Captain Ghis Halnfur shouted, standing to his full two-meter height, his eyestalks pulled in tight to the skull. “Jel, I want to know what the hell is going on, Comms, tell the flotilla to open fire.”

“Captain-“ 

“They set a trap for us, Jel. I don’t know how, but they knew we were there...”

“Captain…”

“A damn trap, and Sonogth sent us-“

“Captain!” Jel said it forcefully enough that others stared - only for a moment before they risked one of her eyestalks finding them. “None of those ships exist in our records.”

“What?”

“They’re unknown configuration,” Jel repeated.

“I know what unknown configuration means, commander, what I meant was-“ One of the five ships closest, and turned directly to face Halnfur’s force, exploded as a few shots lanced from one of his transports. And at that, he grinned. “Ah, nevermind. We seem more familiar with their configuration now. No shields? How did they even make it through FTL?”

The Captain and Commander watched the battle for a moment, before Halnfur finally sat down in his chair, watching as the ships - and there were indeed three distinct designs, began to create a new line of battle. Clearly, whatever battle they had been fighting seemed to be forgotten against a superior enemy. A feral smile colored his face before Jel said something that made his heart stop.

“What if this is their home system and we made first contact?”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

“I don’t care what you say, put that arschloch on this line, now!” Aleksandrya looked up just in time to see another CAT-9 shot get mostly disintegrated before whatever melted slag could be reformed in the coldness of space. “Come on you martian bastard, come on…”

“I assure you, ma’am, that Jamil MacCready is not here!” High General Sakira Morrison of the Jovian Coalition said. At least the fotze had picked up, which was more than could be said for that Martian Coward. “But the Martian troops have been placed under my temporary command while they recieve humanitarian repairs, as-"

“Humanitarian? He’s a murderer!”

“As we were given the right to by treaty. It was your forces under Commodore Faux that an illegal-“

“Halst den Mund! - Euphrates, Flaming Sword,” the two captains flickered on screen and this time, she did look at them. One clearly favored more of the Arab side of the “TexArab” people of Mars, while the other was more ambiguous - both were men, and oh what she wouldn’t give to hear them complain about being subordinate to two women. “One of those energy balls is coming at you both, nadir-starboard. I want to see how big of a coil shot it takes to defuse. General Morrison, are your crews in formation ready for a massed volley?”

“The battleships, yes, but it’ll take the drones-“

“Comms, patch me into all ships,” Aleksandrya said with certainty she didn’t have. Removing her officer’s cap to fix her hair, she instead tossed the damn thing away, pulled out her pins, and shook out her hair. If she was gonna die fighting an unknown evil from beyond God knows what, she wasn’t going to do it by regulation. “This is acting Admiral Aleksandrya Solokov-Meyer of the Antioch - on my first mark, coordinate Coil fire onto this target,” she tapped it on her display, “Upon my second mark, fire traditional ordinance - third fire nuclear. Ready… mark.”

There was the familiar lunge backward as the gun fired, joined in a loose arrowhead formation with the broken hulk of the Nest acting as their anchoring point. While not all ships could fire given the angle, the effect was all that she could’ve hoped for. As the first rounds made contact, they began to superheat, melt, and vaporize as before… but then the second, third, and fourth were all landing in the same spot too. And then, that etheric blue bubble that surrounded those ships began to bend inwards with a burning red fury… until it couldn’t bend anymore. The rounds hadn’t even all made their target before she called “Mark!” 

This motion was more subdued, as the still working torpedo bays launched too - straight into the hole they had just created in the shield, and not just the shield - somehow in that stream of light, they’d cracked the hull. Meyer imagined that the follow up missiles didn’t do much for the ship’s internals either, and this wouldn’t be much better. “Mark!” The barrier was already starting to close up, the cruiser was still opening fire… and then the nuclear missiles got inside the ship. Several dozen missiles exploded on the exterior of the shield in massive shows of light, but the dozen or two that made it underneath the shields before detonating?

For a brief moment, Jupiter had its own sun. And then the shield burst like an overfilled balloon.

“I want confirmation the second your guns are ready for another volley, we’re hitting him next.” She looked back at her display of Captains… having more faces with proportionally even more empty spots didn’t thrill her, but she knew the bastards could die. And that was good enough. “High General, I want an update on those drones, and for the love of God, someone get Jamil MacCready - or at least his ship!”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

His flotilla was sent to pacify the whole system, Ghis Halfnur thought ruefully as he watched his last transport ship get destroyed. It was just him and the Lii’lya left. “Jel?”

The woman had been trying to help coordinate fire with the weapon’s commander but came at his command. “Captain?”

“We never managed to do our full recon,” he said moreosely. It was his own fault, his own overconfidence. Removing his captain’s lapel from his uniform, he handed it to Jel. “Take one of our shuttles and as much non essential personnel as possible, and then complete a survey of this system before reporting to your commanding officer.”

“Sir- that’s-“

“Foreman Wa’l Sonogth will want to know about this. And if you’re right about this being their native system…” Halfnur shook his head. They were doomed. No way about it now. Even if he could still win this fight - and given the numbers against him, he didn’t like those odds - as the commander on the scene who had belligerently initiated contact with a pre-uplift species, his life was forfeit. The Celestial Tribunal would ring him dry, probably most of his crew and commanding officer. “In your logs, write how you argued against my course of action, and wanted to file a report to the Castelleum and I countermanded you. Now go!”

Always a good sailor, Ak’no Jel did as she was told. He had confirmation that she and the evacuees made it on the ship, and waited another five minutes to make sure they were gone before he gave what would be his last, most bitter order. “We’re going in.”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

The battlecruiser and spindly ships were the only two left - and for a moment, Aleksandrya had thought she had won. Or at the very least, was winning. For that act of pride, God decided that the placid, so far only supporting ships with its long-range fire, the wallowing tub decided that time was over now, now it was going to be a broadside. 

“Admira Meyer, the drones are online,” a both familiar and unfamiliar voice said over comms, the signal shakey and broken. 

“I want them running picket, sofort! If any fucking plasma gets through, it’s your ass!” Meyer was already turning to the weapons board, seeing that it was only at 90% charge… and the battlecruiser was getting closer with only missiles harmlessly bouncing off to show for it. But her secondary weapons… “Lower caliber until your main gun is fully charged, he’s not getting an inch without steel,” she ended that call, already having Comms initiating her second, “Admiral Meyer, do you read me Virgo I?”

“Loud and clear ma’am,” the voice sounded winded on the other side, the tight confines of a cockpit not allowing a view. “What can me and my jockeys do for you today?”

“That smaller ship, I want you to poke at it. Bring two squadrons with you…” she paused, thinking. With only teslogats and missiles, the hundreds of fighters wouldn’t do anything to the big ship. Short of just ramming it, she couldn’t see what the rest of the fighters would be doing. “Take as many as want to come.”

“Yes ma’am - think your Comms get can get me over to their jockeys?”

“She’s already on it - Henriette is very skilled.”

“Why thank you, Commander Henriette, over and out!” 

Meyer looked back at the display of the field - already she was down two of her bigger ships (a part of her wanted to add ‘thankfully, Martians’ but she restrained herself) and a dozen smaller ones. And her firing predictions still had it a click out from its maximum range. If those drones didn’t show up -

“Fighters pull back! Repeat, pull back!” It was a laser show over there. While having never taken a shot at any other vessels so far, it became abundantly clear why - it didn't have the range. The powerful plasma jets burned through any fighter unfortunate enough to get too close. “General, where are my drones? Fuck it, drones, this is your new primary target. Are all cannons ready? Good, on my mark - mark!”

Only this time, this time the brilliant display of light didn’t end with a hole. When the light cleared, it was the imposing blue of the shield bursting out through the debris cloud with only a few minor red spots, its impish friend chasing after her fighters untouched. “Prepare a second volley! Reroute power, shut down gravity for all I care, just get those damn guns ready or we’re all dead!”

“Don’t be so certain of it, Admiral,” the same voice from before, only far, far clearer now. And without the static and fuzz… she knew that voice. Thousands of drone ships came rushing by the viewport, creating a cloud of grey and blinking lights that covered the horizon before passing. “I apologize for arriving late but, my father always did teach me ladies first.”

“MacCready,” she snarled under her breath.

“Ah, so you remember me? As you can tell, my ship doesn’t remember either of ours from our most recent or first dance.” 

“Ma’am, a new signature just appeared as… leaving Jupiter’s upper atmosphere,” Henriette said hesitantly. “Samael-Class, and moving quickly. Designation-“

“Big Tex.”

“If you hadn’t done such a wonderful job damaging her, I might’ve been able to help from the beginning,” the man’s cocky voice echoed in the bridge speakers, Meyer’s face turning as red as her hair as his ship quickly advanced towards the enemy. She was going to kill that man. For his crimes, for the Moscow and her old crew, and for stealing her fucking victory! Already, she was watching as the drones broke against the enemy ship like the sea, dozens dying but always being just a few too many to get them all. And the shield was turning red. “Ganymede Spaceworks also added something new, I was hoping to surprise you at our next dance but… well, a Prince must make sacrifices for the good of the people, even if it scorns his lady love.”

All it took was a glance, and Henriette had cut off his comm. “Fucking prick,” she added for good measure.

Drifting into formation above the battered and broken Hive was a Samael-Class Man Of War. Over a kilometer long and with more than enough firepower to match three Zeus classes, the massive primary gun was its primary characteristic… only now it was even more massive, with two isosceles triangles coming from what should’ve been the barrel. And then, in a single shot, a massive round moved in an instant - she barely had time to see it before it had punched straight through the shield, the ship, and then out the other side of the shield. 

Not wanting him to get the last laugh, “Main gun on the spindly.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A rod of Tungsten later and Aleksandrya was mollified enough to call her query. The man she and all of Task Force Chancellor had been sent to capture in the first fucking place. “Jamil MacCready.”

“It’s customary to use my title when greeting me.”

“What was that?”

“Ah, you like my new tachyon-enhanced coilgun? It’s brand new! Honestly worked better then I could’ve-“ Aleksandrya ended the call herself. 

“Helm, take us to Venus Blue Dock. Henri, order the Betarigo to pick up salvage from that last kill. We’re going home.” To fix my ship, reconstitute my numbers, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do next. 

First Chapter: Task Force Doomer gets isekai'ed Chapter 1

Last Chapter: Task Force Doomer gets isekai'ed Chapter 35

I scanned the room for anyone still on their feet and spotted two men in camouflage and carrying rifles. One man was tanned, had a cigar jammed underneath a well-trimmed beard, and rested in the semi-relaxed pose of an experienced non-com. The other was a fresh-faced 18-year-old wearing the blue and white flag of Greece patched on his tiger stripe/woodland mix uniform and instead of the standard helmet he wore a worn camouflage field cap.

Noticing the Sergeant patch on the tanned man, I turned toward him and walked up to the man “What happened here sergeant?” the sergeant took another long drag on his cigar before sighing an exhausted dragon’s smoke cloud. ‘Sweet Williams cigar, classy’ I thought before the man began to speak.

“Only Allah truly knows, but these men” he waved his arm around gesturing to the surrounding room “took their grievous wounds in an explosion of the city’s magazine.” he was sharply interrupted as the Greek cut in with “Enough about what’s going on here, who are you and what are you two doing here?”

I shrugged and overly exaggeratedly looked between them. “Same reason you’re are here. We’re here to get some well-earned RNR. You know, Beer, cards, that sort of thing”

The Greek seemed mollified by my answer. “Sorry for the…” he waved his hand in a vague gesture.

“Don’t worry about it, but I’ve been a bit rude myself. Mainly 'cause I haven’t properly introduced myself or my friend here.” I lightly slapped Alexei’s shoulder. “I’m Harly Robinson former lance corporal in the US Marine Corp and the leader by acclamation of our little band. This here is Alexei formally of the Russian army and my very unofficial XO (second in command).”

Alexei gave me a look that managed to convey both shock and resignation. “So unofficial in fact that he just noticed.” I jokingly mentioned.

“Well, my name is Sergeant Nahid Ramin…. I haven’t thought about it too much, but I am formally of the Turkish armed forces and this here. " There was a slight pause as he pointed toward the Greek. “Is Grigoris Alanidis formerly of the Greek armed forces." The trooper mentioned gave a little wave.

Turning serious once more I addressed the Turkish sergeant “Could we talk outside for a moment? Would hate to smoke up the place.” but my real reason was to get away from the slaughterhouse of a ‘hospital’.

On our way out I could hear the Greek exchanging cigs with Alexei in exchange for a rundown. Both me and Sergeant Nahid had to make way as Bunden, Walter, and Snow, barged through the doorway hauling one thing or another. Most of the bags were marked with the red cross or other such medical symbols. I winced slightly at how much of our medical supplies were in those bags. My slight displeasure must have shown on my face because the burly Arabic sergeant chuckled and slapped me on the back.

“Don’t try to stop her, that she-devil will take your arm off if you try.”

“Yeah… I had that feeling.” I sighed “Well, who knows, she might save a few.”

We passed the ‘She-devil’ in question with the last bag of medical supplies that had been packed in the trucks. She didn’t spare a glance at either one of us as she quickly walked back inside towards the killing floor.

I took in a deep breath as I passed through the doors. The fresh air filled my lungs, driving out the lingering miasma of the ‘hospital.’ I followed Nahid as he went to lean on a nearby wall with a good view down the street. As we both leaned on the wall, the sergeant passed me one of his cigars. He offered a lighter, but I shook my head and held up my zibbo with the flame already rising out of the top.

I lit my cigar and flipped my lighter closed with a satisfying clack. I took a deep draft of the sweet cigar smoke. “Fuck, that bit of nicotine hits the spot,” I thought as a cloud of smoke escaped my lips.

“Well, let’s get this story told and figure out what our options are.”

We were finishing up our chat just as the sun was beginning to drop below the rooftops. The story we had just exchanged would’ve sounded like two drunk loons on one hell of an acid trip to anyone else;

I couldn’t help it, laughter burst out of me like an avalanche. The sergeant looked at me for a second with that deadpan stare NCOs have been perfecting since the dawn of time. That only made me laugh that much harder. Nahid couldn’t hold that for long and his mask broke. It seemed that the crazy absolute absurdity of the situation had finally caught up to both of us.

After a minute or two we both managed to breathe enough to limp back inside. Unfortunately for us, the red-headed beauty had spotted us entering and immediately seized upon this new source of manpower. I noticed her appearance as she calmly walked in our direction. She looked more Valkyrie than a caring nurse as her scrubs seemed to have been given several coats of blood. She stopped in front of the two of us, “So, are you two going to help me the easy way? Or the hard way?”

Me and the Turkish sergeant glanced at each other before looking at the blood-covered woman. “We’ll do the easy way.” the red-headed Valkyrie nodded before gesturing for us to follow her. Which we did with a reasonable amount of reluctance. We walked over to the newly made makeshift medical tent taking up the rear left corner of the main hall. Propped up on a chair near the entrance were the two exhausted forms of Walter and Mc’cullen. Both of them had blood covering from their boots to their elbows. I shot a worried glance to Nahid and he reciprocated the look. What the hell did we get ourselves into?

____________________________________________________________________________

Two grime-faced men walked down a stone hallway. Both the men knew the other well so there was no exchange of idle conversation, even if they had wanted to the news they were bringing warranted silence. There was only the clacking of their boots against the rock floor as a sign of their passage. The hallway itself was fairly unremarkable as a rule, the few exemptions from this was an occasional window, even if the things were more murder holes than windows.

The men came to a stop outside of a wooden door with two halbert-armed guards on either side. The guards quickly snapped to attention after which one guard raised his hand and knocked on the door.

“Your lordship, Guard Captain Gerhardus de Beers and Minister Francois Isaac are hear as requested.”

“Good send them in Jaco.”

The guard opened the door for the two men, waited for them to enter, and closed it with a thunk. The man inside the room was dressed finely but not ostentatiously with closely cut and quality shirt and pants, not to mention the wolf pelt jacket laid across the back of the armchair on which he was sitting upon. The man waved them toward a pair of armchairs arranged around the fireplace with a roaring flame which heated the room. The two men stiffly walked over and took their seats. Both men waited for the other to speak so the silence extended until he spoke.

“What’s the matter with you both I already know about the City’s magazine exploding. I’m pretty sure every beggar and cripple in the city knows about it by now. So Gerhardus and Francois you can tell me about it.”

The guard captain took a breath and charged in before being interrupted “Well your lordship”

“Please Gerhardus I’ve known you far too long for that ‘lordship’ business so out with it.”

“Yes, Philippus well the cities magazine explosion was no accident as you’ve well guessed. But now we have enough evidence to point toward the Lionheart trading family with connections going into other prominent trading families. With all the leads we currently have more than 60% of all trade going out and coming into the city is in their hands. And that kind of money buys enough mercenaries, informants, and in a pinch loyalty to a certain extent, all of which is a serious problem. But I don’t have to tell you that”

The guard captain sighed and relaxed back into his chair while his companion took up the lead.

“Not to mention the goblin raiders that have been ravaging the countryside and even put us under that brief siege. My thought is that the traitors and the Goblins are working together in some capacity.”

The lord seemed to be thoughtfully rubbing his well-trimmed beard. “Maybe that’s the reason for the sudden attack on our walls. Perhaps once the Goblins closed with our walls we’d find ourselves attacked within having them opening the gates for the goblins outside.”

That thought sent a shiver down the lord’s spine but he didn’t show it.

“It’s a good thing we had that mercenary engineer appear a few days before the battle. It would’ve been a disaster if they had gotten to the walls.”

The lord looked to his guard captain “That mercenary seems out of place to be part of the lionheart’s treachery.”

The guard captain nodded “It seems like they haven’t gotten their claws into him yet. Also while on the topic of strange mercenaries, some turned up right after the explosion on some of those magical carriages that I hear are all the rage in the capital.”

The lord’s expression grew darker. “Do you think they are under the employ of the lionhearts? I knew they had money but those magical carriages are supposed to be ludicrously expensive. You can hardly ever see one outside of the capital and even there they are few and far between.”

The Minister shook his head. “I personally doubt it, I oversaw the taxes for most if not all of the major trading houses that keep trade routes through here. While they could’ve kept some money hidden from me and mine, an amount large enough to purchase a single magical carriage we would’ve found easily, let alone 3 or 4. We aren’t the all-seeing god Berlor, but we are hardly that incompetent.”

The guard captain spoke up in support “Plus no matter how high the quality of the mercenaries it wouldn’t be worth it to spend that kind of capital on the handful that came in the carriages.”

The Minister shifted in his seat “There is another option Philippus.”

The Marquess “And what would that be Francois?”

“They're from the capital as reinforcements or… as an inquisitor and his troops.”

The room went silent, each man looking into each other's faces. The silent tension was only broken by The Marquess letting out a sigh.

“Be careful either way as we may be able to use their support. There’s always the chance that they are just really well-off mercenaries and if they're one of the three inquisitors then we’ll assist them as best we can. Francois, I want you to be watching them. Gerhardus I need you to work on the military situation. We need powder desperately, overpay handsomely for it if need be. That’ll get the merchants scrambling to get here with our powder.

Thank the good lord that we had already sent for help a few weeks ago. As we should be getting reinforcements next month.”

The Marquess got up, went behind his desk, and reemerged bearing a bottle of fine red wine and three glasses. He swiftly poured himself and the other two a glass of the red liquid. He handed his two long-time friends each a glass. “I think it’s going to be a long while until we’ll have the time to enjoy a glass of fine wine together.” the other two nodded with resignation. The Marquess Philippus Morkel raised his glass in a toast which the other two joined, clinking and draining their glasses in one smooth motion.

Next Chapter: Remember to like if you want one

PS. I've been busy, also joining the airforce is a lot harder than I thought it would be for all the wrong reasons.

So, I love listening to NetNarrator and Agro Squirrel as I drive to work.

My rule of thumb on YouTube narration of HFY stories is if they link to the stories that they read. If there is no link, then I don’t listen.

Anyways, the algorithm demons decided to start pushing StarboundHFY to my feed. There wasn’t a link to the story, but there was a link to the StaboundHFY subreddit.

When I go to the subreddit there appear to be stories, but I can’t find any actual text.

So, are they stealing stories? Are they writing their own? Are they asking permission?

Any clarification would help. Thanks.

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___________

Vilantia Prime, estate of Great Lord Aa'Porti

The Great Lord sat in his office, surrounded by tablets all glowing in different shades. Finally he selected one and tapped on it. The image that displayed was simply a logo of a Terran animal that was mostly black, with a white belly and two white stripes along the back.

It took a few moments for the link to establish, and the logo began to move its mouth in time with the words being spoken. "SkunkWorks Insurance, Smith." The voice was entirely artificial, and there were no scent-markers transmitted with the words.

"Smith, this is your policy-holder Laika. I have news. I received an offer that cannot be declined, which requires us to alter our policy."

"Well, that's a damn shame. I was looking forward to spending your retainer in New Vegas. Little bird told me the Lucky 38's opening up again, straight tables with their own hydroponic system so they can make and distill fifty types of booze." There was a sigh. "So what's this alteration you're talking about?"

"As part of the new peace agreements, I will be creating a new organization owned by private citizens. The Vilantian-Hurdop Trade Cooperative will be paying the premiums moving forward."

"Fair enough. Anything else?"

"I should like for the Trade Cooperative to open a new policy." Great Lord Aa'Porti growled out the rest of it. "The Trade Cooperative would like a full review of the recent action involving the mercenary company Bravo Bulldogs. They were supposed to exit R-space at a specific time, and did not. This goes against what is known of their tactical doctrine manuals. Explain."

"Oh, that's an easy one. They don't follow the manuals all the time."

"That is nonsensical."

"The Bulldogs and their parent company 7th Cav came from...well, I'll skip the history lesson for now – suffice to say that there's a section in their manual that advises if the tactical situation calls for it, the manual can be ignored and the commander on scene can act as they see fit."

"Then how can they know what to do?" Aa'porti was thoroughly confused by this new information. "The individual soldiers would be completely at a loss."

"Not really. Their doctrine teaches initiative, independence of thought and action – as long as the objective is completed and no interstellar laws are broken doing so the general response is to record what was done and teach it later."

"They teach their soldiers to break the rules?"

"If the situation calls for it."

"Ridiculous."

"Terran." That one word seemed to be their fallback for any event that made absolutely no sense.

There was exasperation in Aa'portis' voice. "In any event, I would like to know how they think and act, so that I -" he caught himself "- so that the Trade Cooperative may best utilize their talents in the future."

"Well, I'll give you one for free; there's a new company being formed under the 7th Cav calling itself the Terran Foreign Legion. Looks like they got that one fella who was an observer on that last mission in charge, and they picked up some folks from a Vilantian warfreighter called the Hidepiercer and a Hurdop ship called the Godsfang docked at 7th Cav HQ a little bit ago. Do with that what you will, but a smart fellah would make a friend on the inside there. Soon as he didn't need to ice his balls every hour."

Lord Aa'porti kept his voice tightly held. "I will take that information under consideration. Laika out."

The communication channel closed, and Lord Aa'porti leaned back in his chair. He'd overcome obstacles and failure before, and this latest setback seemed to be almost providence at the end of it all. As Minister of Trade, he had exceptional leeway in working with the planetary industries. Those who became his friends would be granted leeway. Those who did not would need other friends. Atop that, this Foreign Legion could be his test garden for determining how to merge the governments of Vilantia, Hurdop and Terra into a united confederation of planets, with his paw guiding them all.

___________

Terran Foreign Legion Ship Twilight Rose

Gryzzk sat in his office in the Twilight Rose rubbing his head. The ship itself was still in the process of being torn down and rebuilt, but the additions to the superstructure had been completed and the path to the bridge was clear. His office and ship-quarters were immediately to the right of the bridge entrance, with his ready room mirroring the office but placed to the left. He'd been able to decorate his office to his satisfaction, with stills and shortvids of Grezzk and the children along with various personal scent dispensers. His eyes lingered on what was quickly becoming his favorite – Nhoot clutching Rhipl'i and wearing his beret which was comically oversized on her, while Gro'zel wore his dress jacket draped over her shoulders and did her utmost to give "Private Nhoot and Private Rhipl'i" orders to clean, which was immediately followed by the same scene with the roles reversed. Unfortunately such camaraderie was not displayed by his company at large.

The period of unity he'd hoped for had lasted almost two days into the training, and now at five days into their initial meeting the company had almost fully split along the ancient lines. It was disheartening on several levels. To be fair, this was a great challenge he'd accepted, essentially binding three very disparate cultures together.

He'd fallen into the habit of taking breakfast with his officers and lunch with his sergeants, and they'd all reported similar things. Insults, not-so-hidden jabs in the meal lines, and general disruption of activity were becoming the norm between the Vilantians and Hurdop. It was beyond the normal matches of dominance and place-finding that was normal for a new situation. The sergeants were reporting having to assign pushups along with various other exercise-based punishments more often and in greater numbers. He knew how to lead Vilantians. He could function with the Terrans. The Hurdop were the great unknown.

It was possible that his presence was not helpful in all aspects. He'd been taking lessons and study sessions with the recruits, and while his combat prowess had increased dramatically, he was nowhere near the seasoned fighter that no few of his charges were. He often smelled tension in the room when he was taking in tactical courses with the Terran instructors, all of whom were preaching tactics and movements that were wholly out of line with the Clan Way. Concepts like situational awareness were easy for him to grasp, but for many of the recruits, it was difficult to understand. Perhaps his lack of knowledge in the war tactics of his species was in fact an advantage, as he'd only truly been exposed to the Terran way of thinking.

He'd spent one night deep in a frustrating study of ancient history. It had been thirty-three generations since the Great Civilization, when Vilantia had discovered the technology to reach space and had been approached to become a member of the spacefaring Collective. According to the texts he had read from Vilantian sources, the technology had been stolen by the Nameless of the time to leave Vilantia and make their way as a civilization of pirates and thieves, becoming the Hurdop. This in itself was a revelation that he'd never known – he berated himself for this before remembering that he'd never needed to know these things until now. The following revelation was no less taxing - the Collective had also granted membership to the Hurdop shortly thereafter. The fact that made no sense to Gryzzk at first and could only be explained by trickery and deceit, if the texts he had read were to be believed.

Sitting alone in his office, Gryzzk reflected on his studies, considering if the texts could be believed. That thought alone occupied him for so long that he failed to notice First Sergeant O'Brien with their lunch.

"Captain, I took the liberty of dismissing the sergeants to work with their platoons today. Frankly sir, they're struggling to keep a lid on it." The unspoken "it" was the brewing conflict between the factions.

"Is there a section that isn't attempting to re-fight the war?" Gryzzk immediately regretted snapping at his First Sergeant, but she seemed to take it in stride.

O'Brien considered as she ate. "Engineering seems to be pretty quiet. Not sure if it's because Chief Tucker's got 'em all scared or if there's something about the engineering mindset that just doesn't care."

"I believe we should have more discussion regarding this."

"Agreed." O'Brien tapped her rank insignia. "Chief Tucker, please report to the Captains' ready room. Chief Tucker to the Captains' ready room." She then stood up, sliding her empty tray to the recycling. "It seemed more appropriate, sir."

"Agreed, First Sergeant." Gryzzk went across the hall to the ready room, which was a simple affair that consisted of several rows of soft chairs that faced forward, along with a small shelf and viewscreen for the presenter.

It took several minutes for Chief Warrant Officer Tucker to arrive. He'd obviously tried to stop and clean up, but his arms and forearms still bore marks of grease and grime. His salute wasn't quite a parody, but it certainly wasn't as crisp as most others. His rank indicator – a single vertical gold bar with a thin purple line down the middle – was askew and appeared to have been chipped at some point. While he was attentive to hygiene and his scent at the morning meetings was fresh, currently the pungent aromas of sweat and coffee surrounded him.

"S'up Cap?" Tucker seemed to be genuinely curious about the summoning, and Gryzzk hoped he wasn't wasting anyone's' time on this.

"Chief, we have a situation and we'd like your input as how to resolve it."

"So, not about the AI going in next week?"

"No, something different. I've been receiving reports from all the other sections, and there is noted friction between the Vilantian and Hurdop recruits. All except engineering. Could you explain why that is?"

Tucker blinked a few times thinking about it. "Well, if I had to guess I'd say there's maybe a couple reasons. First an' foremost, physics doesn't care where you're from, it's gonna run the same everywhere. So everyone's got that commonality going for 'em. Most of what they disagree about's the how to get from point A to point B. But the R-space equation math is the same no matter who punches the numbers in." Tucker shrugged casually.

"And the second?"

"Well, I guess you could call it an engineering quirk of y'all – curiosity. All the engineering schools in both Vilantian and Hurdop space have a heavy history requirement. I guess your early engineers were big on history and that kinda-sorta got passed down. So when they all got together there was about a half day of arguing about history and they got it together and figured out that history's written by the winners, and well, they both thought they won the thing the Vilantians call the Great Civilization and the Hurdop call the Freedom Flight." There was another shrug. "I guess nobody likes to think their ex is having a good time. Anyway, they put their histories together and kinda sorted out they were both about half-right. Took most of a day but I think the boys might be working on a joint history presentation that's gonna tweak everybody something fierce."

Gryzzk was deep in thought at these revelations from the section. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "So...a group project and shared knowledge?"

"That's about the size of it." Tucker nodded casually.

"Do you have any recommendations for how these things could be applied to the company at large?"

Tucker thought about it, apparently treating the question as an engineering problem. "Well, I'm not sure if shared knowledge is a thing, but you do have some traditions that survived meeting the Collective and splitting up. Maybe have everyone duel it up or something. Group project, that's pretty wide possibilities." His face made several odd expressions as he thought about it. "So I heard you know about ship curry, yeah?"

Gryzzk winced slightly at the memory. "I am...familiar."

"Mebbe set up a contest or something. Everyone who can bang two pots together gets to make a curry dish, everyone gets a sample, best one by vote wins." Tucker leaned against the wall for a moment

O'Brien nodded. "I like the thought. I'll talk to the rest of the cadre and see what we're gonna need." She paused. "You guys got anything like rice on Vilantia?"

Gryzzk nodded. "We do, but it is much denser and doesn't have the same scent. Mostly it's used as a grazing fodder."

Tucker made a little chuckle. "You're missing out. Anyway, you got my two cents and this seems to be going off track, so I'm out." He flicked something resembling a salute to Gryzzk and left for his engineering space.

O'Brien snorted. "Damn Warrant Officers. Mad bastards, the lot."

"So it would seem. I don't suppose there's an area dedicated for physical combat?"

"Company area just got a sand pit put in for volleyball. We'll take the net down, set up a rack for pugil sticks and a couple helmets, anyone wants a go they can go."

"Well enough. Assembly before evening meal?"

"Don't ask me Captain, I'm not in charge around here." Which he'd learned was her way of saying he was asking a somewhat foolish question.

Gryzzk tapped his rank for the all-hands channel. "All personnel, this is Captain Gryzzk. Report to the company area in" he paused to check the time "ninety minutes for a pair of announcements. Lieutenant Gregg-Adams, report to the Captains' ready room. That is all."

Lieutenant Gregg-Adams was much faster to the ready room than Tucker had been. As Terrans went he wasn't exactly tall, with a receding brown hair and a slight pouch around his belly. He saluted rapidly and stood straight, with underlying nervousness at odds with his crisp scent. It was definitely an odd thing to experience after his conversation with the Chief.

"At ease, Lieutenant. I require some items prior to the assembly. Specifically, items for training in melee combat and the needed safety gear."

"Pugil sticks, yessir."

"Also, a good amount of rice to distribute to each individual room. We're going to be selecting the ships' curry in about a week, and I'd like everyone to have an opportunity to participate."

Gregg-Adams seemed perplexed for a moment at the variety of items, finally nodding. "Can do, sir."

"You have questions?"

"No questions, sir."

"Very well, dismissed."

The lieutenant saluted again, spun sharply and jogged out of the ready room. As soon as he was out of range, the footsteps rapidly increased in timing, indicating that he'd broken into a run.

O'Brien shook her head. "Poor wee lamb."

"He did seem a bit concerned."

"Aye, his first posting. Make sure he exercises – he's the type that'll spend three days awake studying for an exam and get winded three minutes into a proper -" she caught herself before saying something impolite "- run."

"He does seem a bit academic."

"That's one word for it. Anyway, I should go see to some things. Do set an alarm for yourself sir. It's bad form to be late to a meeting you've called."

Gryzzks ears drooped slightly. Of all the things he'd lost along the way, it seemed his normally impeccable sense of time was in desperate need of an update. It was quite likely due to the change in day length – on the ship day and night blended to an extent, but here they held to a Terran standard day which was longer than Vilantias' by about six hours. On the one hand it meant that more could be accomplished, but on the other hand it meant for awkward meal times. Yet another thing for him to consider.

He kept himself busy with progress reports and studying for clues within them that might indicate which members of the company had been fighting. It seemed a study in careful wording which when cross-referenced with medical supplies requested by the company printers painted a grim picture.

The chime of his alarm set him in motion, as he left his office and began the climb up to the company area. He was able to arrive with the press of his fellows as they moved to proper formation. In the company area, he saw that several padded sticks had been placed along the wall outside the company day room, along with helmets and a few mouthguards. Each stick had a red and a blue side.

Gryzzk was pleased at the initial look of the company formation. His sergeants had done a good job with basic instruction, and the company was shaping up to be more than a mob thrown together by fate. As soon as he stood at his position, the lieutenants snapped straight, with the sergeants and enlisteds doing the same.

"Alpha Howlers, at ease." Gryzzk began to slowly pace in front of the formation with his hands behind his back. "I have been made aware of a disturbing trend over the past few days. A lack of cohesion. Lack of unity. Lack of focus. Some of you seem to think it is time to re-ignite a war that has just finished. I do not believe that is the intent, but that is the end result. That said, it is improper for me to expect all to place forehead to forehead and swear the clan-sibling oaths simply on my directive. With that in mind, there is now an avenue available to disagree physically and not fall to dishonor." Gryzzk walked over to the pugil stick rack and selected one, and then secured a helmet and mouthguard before setting his tablet aside. He then walked over to the new sand pit and tested it. The footing was loose and he was slipping quite a bit. He might actually have a chance at this. "With the assistance of First Sergeant O'Brien, we will demonstrate. Now, Vilantians and Hurdop have a tradition of duels, with the forms being specific. I will expect those forms to be adhered to. Based on what I have seen, there is a similar tradition among the Terrans."

It was a tribute to the First Sergeant that she was unsurprised by being selected to assist in the demonstration, and she simply put on a helmet and selected a larger stick, after which she addressed the company.

"Alight, once you strap this on, you're in it. There's two ways to win. Knock 'em out or on points. Blue side is a half-point, red side's a full point. You leave the sand, your opponent gets a point. Three points ends the round, three rounds ends the match. After that, you shake hands, dust each other off, and get back to what you were doing. For demonstration purposes, we're only going one point. Scoreboard's gonna keep track."

O'Brien put her mouth guard in, stepped into the pit, and Gryzzk rolled his shoulders to issue the Terran-style challenge – not exactly easy as the mouthguard was interfering. "Are we gonna keep moving air, or are we gonna have a scrap?"

The First Sergeant snorted, muttering something about Laroy and quickly feinted forward before bringing the stick back. Gryzzk tucked and rolled to get out of the way of the painful-looking stick, only to catch a shot to his side.

A soft artificial voice intoned. "Half-point, First Sergeant O'Brien."

They reset themselves and nodded, beginning again. This time Gryzzk was slightly more prepared for the initial feint, ducking down and flinging a handful of sand at the First Sergeant before ducking under and catching the back of her legs with the blue side of his stick, bringing her down to a knee.

"Half-point, Captain Gryzzk."

They both reset again, with a slight smile on both their faces. A nod from each of them and the fight was joined for the third time, with both of them circling each other cautiously. Gryzzk tried to feint as O'Brien had earlier and overbalanced slightly, which left an opening for O'Brien; the resulting smack to the back of his head left his vision clouded and ears ringing. He got up to his knees and nodded to O'Brien as she grabbed his shoulder and casually hauled him to his feet. He barely heard the artificial voice declaring the match over. There was a bit of a smile on O'Brien's face as she took off her helmet and returned her stick to its original place. Then as was the proper form, they shook hands and cleared the dirt from the uniform of their opponent before returning to their correct positions in the formation. Gryzzk looked and saw that the company was by turns surprised and confused. Gryzzk was the Captain, their Lord, and therefore the victory should have been his.

"Hopefully this demonstration has been educational for all. Despite rank, we are all equals in that area." Gryzzk waved at the sand pit. "This goes against the traditions of the Clan Way, but we are our own Clan. Our traditions will be different, because we will take the best of all traditions and make them ours." He shook his head one time to clear the last of the fuzz from his vision. "To that end, we will be taking on a tradition for the ship itself. Within the Terrans, it is tradition to create a specific dish called 'curry', which is only served one day a week. The general recipe will be sent to your individual tablets after the evening meal. We will be holding a contest for all company personnel who wish to participate. At the end of the fourth week, we will be judging the contest entries and selecting the best one from among the participants, who will kindly remain anonymous. The winning recipe will be forwarded to the ship mess for replication. May the living gods bless the winner."

The company seemed intrigued by this prospect, with a whispered buzz emanating from the group. This seemed to be an important thing to the Terrans at least, and more than a few were sneaking looks at their tablets to see if they could find out more about this 'curry' the captain spoke of.

Gryzzk looked around a bit. It seemed that the company scent was altering in some way that he couldn't quite define, like a broth half-cooked. He was going to have to be patient and wait for the results.

"Company. Dismissed."

He was not surprised to see a portion of the company head right to the sand pit.

"Never... never use Axiom to enhance an Irish Coffee again"

It seemed like a good idea to Zane-Bob Jimenez at the time. Since you can get healed back from pretty much anything thanks to alien space magic, why not see if the alien space magic enhancement they were using on coffee worked on booze too? Pain pierced his skull and lanced down to his lower back, his tongue was sour with vomit and parched with thirst. Sight and sound were agony.

ZB staggered up from the unfamiliar mattress and slowly hobbled to the bathroom. Fortunately he had some dignity intact. Somehow. There was something with fur in the bed. He'd have to figure out what after. And where he was.

The noisome dirge of waste upon the commode woke Velawyr from her slumber. She had done the deed with an alien. For the first time in recorded history, an alien had been willing and able to sleep with a Triii. Axiom caused all thinking peoples to be able to interbreed. One could even sleep with a Floric. It wasn't a good idea, but more survivable than any skin contact with a Triii. Therefore as many as 1% of the Galaxy's Gravids assumed that since the Trii did not interbreed, they are not truly thinking peoples. Of course that view was censured among mainstream Gravids, but there were enough extemists that the majority of Seekers who were murdered in the line of duty were murdered in Arrangement Systems. This could be the beginning of something that could make the Galaxy a lot safer for her people.

"Miss Trei... Tree..Trie...Trii? Where am I?"

"You don't remember?"

"No.. and if you can find my pants"

"We're at Chaste Cathy's Clean and Confidential Hotel on level 37 of Ven Spire. You said, and I quote "take my money and give me the second cheapest room you've got, or I will find the most expensive thing in the lobby and rub her cute sexy gremlin ass all over it until it all explodes," while brandishing me at the staff."

".....I am soo sorry ma'am."

"It was kinda romantic actually"

"Did I piss off your friends?"

"No, my pilot's jealous though."

"What's your name?"

"Velawyr of the Brightglade Clan"

"Do I owe you money?"

"No"

"Do you need a doctor? Because what I had can kill a Cannidor at 10 paces so if you got any secondhand exposure-"

"The fumes from your breath got me pretty drunk but I'll be fine." She says as she fishes for a small vial of pills in her bag. "Sorry, these are formulated for Triii only."

"It's fine, how did we meet?"

"See that diner across the street? They charged me ten times what it said on the menu, then after I finished my food they burned the furniture I sat on in the street to "cleanse it of my filth." I might be dangerous but I clean myself. Hmph. Then you showed up, called them something offensive I didn't understand, and when they called you a stupid sheltered Tret skank and started throwing things at me you lifted me off the ground and hugged me."

"Oh god the Admiral is gonna rip me a new one"

"...!..."

"Metaphorically. Now, where are-"

The piercing notes of Reveille played on a piccolo trumpet with sound amplification runes shake the room as the couple turn their heads to behold a Private Stream holding a rucksack and a paper bag.

"Private Stream reporting in with a resupply sir!"

"Was the bugle really nessessary?"

"Critical sir!"

"....."

"Critical to my morale sir, Mrs Fuzzy Lady," Deadpans the Phosa underneath who almost certainly had added some extra bit of sonic Axiom trickery to the trumpet call.

Their replies are cut off by the perfectly timed ringing of two communicators, one from inside Velawyr's satchel and one from a pair of freshly laundered pants inside the rucksack.

ZB ducked into the bathroom to give Velawyr some privacy for her conversation and checked the communicator. His communicator. It's a number he didn't recognize, but one that was already in his contacts as "Your Beautiful Chauffeur." Streams....

"Good Morning, who do I have the pleasure of talking to?" No hangover can beat Southern Manners.

"Hiya I'm Burna, Velawyr's pilot? She's been invited to the Dauntless and I'm supposed to pick her up, but I was given this number and her line is busy?"

"Nice to meet you, I'm Zane-Bob and I suppose I'm her boyfriend. She's just talking to someone else at the moment so I'll get her attention as soon as I can ma'am."

"You know my fee is per Triii, right? The insurance for you creepy fuzzballs is damn robbery. First ride is free for men but after that you're gonna have to pay."

"Pardon me, but I'm Human? But if you're charging me at the non-Triii plus one fare I'll pay."

"But you said, oh.. I heard Humans were supposed to be immune but I didn't think you were THAT immune."

"I'm gonna get Velawyr now, nice meeting you."

He ducked back into the bedroom and waited on Velawyr to finish her conversation.

"Nothing untoward happened! It's probably one of the best dates in my life if I'm honest. I just wish hubby remembered more of it."

Velawyr put her hand on the speaker and whispered "it's your commanding officer."

"We'll climb the rest of this tree on the Dauntless, got it. I just need to contact my pilot."

"About that, she's on the line" said ZB while holding out his communicator to her. Her hand jerked back like he had offered her a lump of barbed wire.

"Right where are my manners, I'll set it to speaker and clean up." He carefully rested it on the cheap extruded plastic bedside table and grabbed the rucksack to make himself presentable.

Freshly showered, properly armed with 100% Triii proof gear and in a clean uniform, ZB joined a similarly refreshed but unarmed Velawyr and a telepresence drone projecting a holographic Ghob's face in the cabin of a moderately sized cargo ship.

"So, this is Triii hangover food then?" Asked ZB as he looked over the contents of the paper bag. Some sort of firm cheese with dried fruit inside that had been encrusted with seeds and roasted to a crispy exterior and gooey center. Pretty good, but more of a snack than a full meal.

"Mpph hm..." she took a drink of something that tasted like a mildly salted soymilk with mint blended into it. "Perfect. Hows it taste to you hubby?"

"Vaguely like... pomegranates but with a raisin texture wrapped up in kinda mild tasting cheese like British Cheddar and covered in pumpkin seeds with the texture of poppyseeds. Also I mean no disrespect but we're not officially married yet."

"By the Galaxy's standards we are in most places"

"Does that include the Triii?"

"We have no standards for Alien marriage."

"Triii marriage?"

"The groom's Clan Matriarch and my father are supposed to negotiate for a month to determine the quality of the match and my ability to provide. Afterward we visit both extended families and make a formal announcement and update to the clan registries."

"And if we skip all that?"

"The ceremony is meant to show that each clan respects and can work harmoniously with the other. To skip it means anything from a simple show of contempt to a veiled accusation of child abuse."

"Child abuse, really?"

"If the bride's family snubs the groom's family, it implies that their son was saved from an abusive home."

"And since a Triii wedding is impossible to attempt because of my family being in cruel space and us... "

"Being already wed?"

"Until we make things official, how about a human custom?"

Zane-Bob got out of the seat and got down on one knee in front of her, barely keeping steady as the ship wove through Centris traffic.

"Velawyr of The Brightglade clan, you are a beacon of sanity in the madness of the galaxy. You're cute, nice and for some reason have decided to accomodate a lunatic like me. Will you marry me?"

Her yes is muffled due the fact that her tongue is in his mouth while Burna's drone bangs its tyrite plated hands together in applause.

"And now, you're my and I'm your fiance until we file the paperwork to get married."

"Huh, lovers that just declare their intent to marry then wait for months??" interjects Burna. "Why does such a short lived race that has so many men stretch out the process like that? "

"Ghobs have a natural lifespan of 50 years, your lives are short in both ways."

"We're not in Cruel Space"

"You try living 80 years in Cruel Space."

"Noo way, moving Triii around is the closest I'll go to that death pit. Speaking of which, we're here."

"Triii VIP inbound!"

Alien guests were shuffled to rooms where they would not able to sense her, axiom based enhancements and hardware were powered down or moved entirely, and Triii sized furniture conspicously lacking any Axiom runes was moved into Admiral Cistern's office. All in the course of about 5 minutes.

"We recieved 1,037 complaints about chemical scanners that your Axiom Alcohol trick triggered. Your conduct has garnered 132 fines which you will pay in full. The Plates in Blue diner has banned you from the premises, as has Chaste Cathy's Clean & Confidential. The Church of the True Mother and Sisterhood of Bountiful Births have preemptively excommunicated you because their envoys witnessed your first date. The Order of Denied Sainthood has threatened them with a counter-crusade should they attempt anything beyond that. And worst of all, your drunken nonsense could have endangered our relations with the Triii."

"It won't happen again Admiral."

"It had better not. Which brings me to the exceptional stroke of luck you've had. Madam Velawyr is quite enamored with you."

"I am aware of that Admiral."

"Phillip, can you please show Ms Velawyr back in here."

"Thank you for your consideration Grand Admiral" says Velawyr with a proper formal bow.

"Thank you for helping us reach an understanding with the Triii. The Triii have a need for Non-Triii outreach specialists. Tasks such as mediating disputes, hunting down the few Triii criminals, general negotiation and responding to Triii in distress. Velawyr has agreed to be a civilian consultant and Captain Lyve has sworn her oath to the EFL."

"Will I be a Civillian Consultant for the Triii then?"

"Their equivalent is a bit more poetic, but essentially yes. You are on loose leash protocols, and should you choose to sign the contract the Triii have already sent you, a Kind Hand for the Triii."

"Understood. May Humanity and the Triii be forever allied."

"One last thing. Sergeant Jimenez, report to medical immediately. If the Cannidors' medical guidelines are anything to go by, your liver is on the brink of failure and your kidneys are shot."

Authors note: As promised, the reason why The Ember Exists will be revealed today.

This was a really tough chapter to write and edit. I'm not very good at writing conversations between people and I hope you enjoy the final product. Thanks u/Eruwenn for preventing everyone from seeing my horrible mistakes.

As always, feedback and critique are always welcomed!

First
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Begin

The briefing room was a stark contrast to the serenity of the garden. Grey, featureless walls framed the rectangular table at the center, a tactical map of The Ember glowing faintly above it. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, a constant reminder of the ship's complexity. At the far end of the room, AINI stood motionless, her blue eyes flickering as she interfaced with the systems, preparing for the meeting.

Captain Contrues entered, his imposing frame casting a shadow that briefly engulfed the room. His sharp gaze swept over the table and rested momentarily on AINI. He then turned to the two senior officers already present: Chief Engineer Haphaesta, her tall, commanding presence reflecting years of discipline; and Commander Juno Sato, her build lean but equally formidable. Both women radiated an air of readiness, their expressions neutral but focused.

"Merge," Contrues said, his tone heavy.

The three of them closed their eyes briefly, their consciousnesses linking through Elara’s Crown. The physical room faded, replaced by a luminous, infinite expanse. Contrues appeared as a bright figure of authority, his form outlined in flickers of flame. Haphaesta’s presence reflected precision, marked by faint, interwoven patterns. Sato stood firm, her silhouette encased in plated steel. Time seemed to stretch as their minds connected effortlessly, ideas flowing freely in a space untethered by words or gestures. 

AINI’s holographic form stood tall in their shared mindscape, pausing but a moment before speaking. Forty-eight hours ago, Sol Lagrange Station detected unidentified vessels at the outer edges of the solar system. Their configuration, energy signatures, and propulsion systems defy anything humanity has ever encountered. 

A model of the alien ships materialized in the expanse, their jagged silhouettes and glowing energy cores a stark contrast to the smooth, symmetrical designs of human vessels. The ships appeared almost organic, their propulsion systems emitting a faint, pulsing glow. Nothing human designed that, and their speed is unprecedented. At their current trajectory, they will reach Earth in less than a month.

Chief Haphaesta’s mental voice cut through, concise and focused. Aliens? Is this the ‘dark cloud’ from the lunar warning? How certain are we? There don't seem to be enough to be deemed a 'cloud'.

AINI’s presence dimmed, her tone heavy with gravity. Certain enough. The energy signatures and propulsion systems are unlike anything we've seen. The resemblance to the warning is undeniable.

Commander Sato's thoughts echoed with calm determination. If these ships are connected to the ancient threat, we must assume the worst. The Ember is the culmination of everything humanity could muster. Further preparations are no longer possible, and hesitation will cost lives.

Contrues mental presence grew heavier, his resolve unshaken. This is what we’ve prepared for. Billions are counting on us. The Ember must reach the gate—no matter the cost. We owe it to those who stayed behind, sacrificing themselves to delay the enemy. Their efforts must not be in vain.

Chief Haphaesta’s agreement was firm. You have my word, Captain. We are ready.

Commander Sato followed with a sharp mental nod. And mine. The ship and its people will be protected.

As their connection faded and the luminous expanse dissolved back into the grey confines of the briefing room, the weight of the moment hung heavily in the air. Contrues opened his eyes and studied his officers. Both Haphaesta and Sato stood relaxed, their expressions mirroring the determination etched across his own features.

"Good," Contrues said aloud, his voice cutting through the silence. "To be a light in the dark," Contrues said firmly. The words reverberated in the quiet, echoed by Haphaesta and Sato in unison: "To be a light in the dark."

The officers nodded in unison. The Captain took a deep breath, his hand brushing the Ember Industries emblem on his chest. It was a subtle, almost instinctive gesture, one that Haphaesta and Sato unconsciously mirrored. The emblem symbolised hope—a fragile yet enduring promise that humanity would prevail.

AINI stepped to the door but paused, glancing back at the Captain. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the tactical map. For a moment, his expression softened, betraying a flicker of the immense burden he bore. A final thought crossed the Crown, shared with unwavering clarity.

We will reveal everything to them. They need to know the truth if we are to stand united against what’s coming. This is what we’ve been preparing for. We knew this day would come, and we will not be found wanting.

Taking one last breath, he straightened and spoke with quiet authority.

"We’re ready. Bring them in."

The door slid open with a soft hiss, and a procession of officers entered the room. Each entered the room in crisply-pressed uniforms with precise movements. The key personnel, representing every department, carried an air of quiet competency, while their junior officers showed a mix of curiosity and concern.

As they took their places around the table, the tactical map expanded to accommodate their presence. AINI stepped forward, her glowing eyes surveying the group as she adjusted the display to highlight key points of interest.

Captain Contrues’s voice was steady as he addressed the room."Thank you all for assembling so promptly. What you are about to hear remains strictly classified until further notice." With a deliberate motion, he reached for the control panel embedded in the table, pressing a sequence of keys. A faint chime echoed through the room as the door slid shut and locked with an audible click. Red lights flickered briefly around the edges, indicating the room was now electronically sealed.

The officers exchanged brief glances, their postures straightening as they sensed the gravity of the moment. Contrues nodded toward AINI, who with a short pause, repeated the report she had revealed earlier.

"Forty-eight hours ago, Sol Lagrange Station detected unidentified vessels at the outer edge of the solar system. Their origin is unknown, but their characteristics are distinctly non-human. Their speed and trajectory suggest they will reach Earth in just less than a month."

The holographic map displayed the alien vessels, their eerie, organic shapes rotating slowly above the table. Muted murmurs rippled through the group as they studied the models, the magnitude of the threat sinking in.

A medical officer spoke first, her voice laced with concern. "Do we have any indication of their intentions? Are they hostile?"

AINI shook her head. "We cannot confirm their intentions at this time. However, their approach aligns disturbingly with the warnings encoded in the lunar message about the ‘dark cloud.'"

A young lieutenant leaned forward, his jaw tightening. "If these ships carry hostility, why approach openly? Could this be reconnaissance—or a warning?""

Another military officer’s tone was calm but thoughtful. "Agreed. If they approach openly, could it mean they seek something other than war? Our course must account for all possibilities, not just conflict."

Contrues raised a hand, silencing the room. "We are here because of what humanity has prepared for over the last century. The Ember is not merely a lifeboat. It is a message—a declaration of survival. Its purpose was never just escape; it was built to find answers we never had time to seek."

He paused, pressing a sequence on the console embedded in the table. A faint chime echoed as a series of holographic files materialized above the tactical map, each labeled with red 'CLASSIFIED' tags. "These files contain the complete details of The Ember’s true mission and the extent of the threat we face. You are authorized to access them now. Study them carefully."

The room fell into a solemn silence as the officers turned their attention to the floating documents. Texts, schematics, and diagrams danced across their eyes, reflected in their furrowed brows and intent gazes. Some officers leaned forward, their faces taut with concentration, while others sat back, processing the influx of information with quiet deliberation.

A tactical officer murmured under his breath, "This… this changes everything," his hand gripping the edge of the table as he scrolled through a schematic labeled with intricate alien markings.

The chief medical officer's lips pressed into a thin line as she examined a section on potential biological threats. Her expression darkened as her eyes darted across diagrams depicting alien physiology, each more unsettling than the last.

A logistics coordinator looked visibly pale as he absorbed the staggering scale of resource estimates required for the mission’s final contingency plans. "These numbers… they’re almost impossible," he whispered, though no one responded, each officer engrossed in their own discoveries.

Contrues watched them silently, allowing the weight of the revelations to settle. He took a measured breath, his voice breaking the tense quiet. "You now understand the stakes. This mission—The Ember—was born from a single, desperate truth: humanity would not survive the next century on Earth."

The officers stiffened, their gazes locked on the Captain. A young lieutenant broke the silence, his voice hesitant but curious. "Sir, was this ship always the plan? Why The Ember?"

Contrues took a steadying breath. "The Ember is the culmination of humanity’s most ambitious project—a response to the threat revealed over a century ago. But it wasn’t just the ship. It was us." He gestured between himself, Chief Engineer Haphaesta, and Commander Sato. "Some of us in this room were created to ensure humanity's survival."

The room rippled with murmurs of confusion. Contrues raised a hand to silence them. "The Everyman Project. It was humanity’s desperate attempt to create individuals who could think faster, endure more, and lead when others faltered. It was controversial and... imperfect, but it succeeded in producing a few of us who were... different. We were engineered not just for survival, but to lead efforts like this one."

He gestured toward the holographic files. "What you see before you are the classified origins of this program. Over a century ago, humanity discovered a ruin on the far side of the moon. Within it, we found an alien message—a warning about a cataclysmic event that occurs every galactic revolution. That message spoke of the 'dark cloud,' a phenomenon that destroys everything in its path. The Ember was built not only to carry us away but to find answers. Answers to stop the cycle, to break free of this destruction."

Contrues paused, letting the enormity of his words sink in. The room was thick with tension, the officers’ faces shifting from shock to skepticism and a hint of discontent.

"You are now stewards of humanity’s last and greatest hope. Failure is not an option. Each of you carries a piece of the burden, and together we will see this through."

A murmur rose from the table, and a logistics officer spoke up, her voice tight with frustration. "So Earth is already doomed? And we’re just supposed to accept that?"

Another officer, younger and visibly shaken, added, "How do we even know this cycle is real? The whole galaxy, and it’s you who’ve decided it can’t be stopped?"

Contrues raised a hand, his voice calm but commanding. "The warnings were clear. Cataloged by alien machines that we barely understood. Ordovician-Silurian extinction, 450 million years ago. The Great Dying, 225 million years ago. You’re not being asked to accept anything—you’re being asked to act." As he spoke, pertinent information on the extinction events scrolled across the vision of everyone present.

AINI stepped forward, her tone unwavering. "The data is undeniable. Humanity’s survival depends on your resolve, not on disbelief."

The dissent subsided into scattered reactions—some officers nodded reluctantly, others exchanged uneasy glances, while a few muttered their discontent under their breath. The weight of the truth bore down on each individual, leaving the room fraught with tension. A senior scientist spoke up, his voice rising above the murmurs. "Captain... what are you?"

Contrues’s gaze shifted to the scientist. "I am human. Engineered, yes, but no less human than anyone here. Just made better.”

The scientist frowned, his eyes narrowing as he processed the revelation. "And you think that justifies it? Playing god?"

Contrues’s tone remained calm. "It wasn’t about justification. It was about necessity. Your fathers’ fathers created us. They needed humans who were stronger, tougher, smarter. You have three certifications, sir, in various fields. I, on the other hand, have seventy-four.” The Captain continued even as several others spluttered. “And it is why I am standing here, now, asking you to trust this mission."

The room fell silent again, the tension palpable, until one of the junior officers, his face twisted with anger, suddenly stood and pulled a sidearm from his holster. The room froze as he aimed the weapon directly at Contrues.

"You call yourselves saviours?" the officer spat, his voice trembling with rage. "You’re cowards, abandoning Earth while there are still people left behind! You engineered yourselves to lead, and this is the best you can do?"

Contrues’s expression didn’t falter, though his gaze sharpened as he addressed the officer, his tone even. "Put the weapon down, Lieutenant. We are here because this is humanity’s last chance."

"Last chance? For who? The people you left to die?" the lieutenant’s voice cracked, his arm wavering. "You’re just saving yourselves."

Later, all present would swear that Commander Sato was next to the captain before they heard a whiplike crack. In the blink of an eye, the lieutenant was facedown on the floor, both his wrists locked in one of Sato’s hands, while the other pinned his head firmly to the cold surface. A collective gasp filled the room as they registered her speed and precision, the tension in the air thickening with disbelief and unease. The pistol lay discarded nearby. Her voice, cold and precise, cut through the stunned silence. "Stand down, Lieutenant. You are out of line."

The room was deathly silent as AINI stepped forward and picked up the weapon herself, securing it with practiced efficiency. The lieutenant, his face pressed against the cold floor, struggled but could not overcome Sato’s grip. The commander leaned in slightly, her tone razor-sharp. "Your anger is misplaced, and your actions are reckless. You dishonour those left behind with this outburst."

Contrues stepped closer, his expression unyielding. "Enough, Commander. Let him up."

Sato hesitated for only a moment before releasing the lieutenant, who scrambled to his feet, his face red with humiliation and fury. AINI moved to the control panel embedded in the wall and entered a command sequence. The red lights around the room flickered as the electronic seal disengaged with a soft chime, and the door slid open to allow two robust-looking AINIs to step in. They easily restrained the lieutenant, escorting him out as he muttered under his breath, and as soon as the three left the room the door resealed with a low hum.

Contrues turned back to the officers, his gaze sweeping over their stunned faces. "Let this serve as a reminder of the weight we carry. None of this is easy, and doubts are natural. But division and chaos will doom us. We stand together, or we fall." He paused, letting the moment settle before continuing. "Now, let us begin."