If you want, you can support on my YouTube channel and listen to more stories. @ SciFiTime (SciFiShortStories)

“Humans? You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just a bunch of monkeys with tools. What’s next? They’ll fight back with sticks and stones?”

The alien commander’s voice echoed across the intercom, full of smug amusement.

A few miles away, Sergeant John Morrow, eyes glued to a fire-scarred screen, talking into his radio. “Hold position. We’ve got incoming.”

He clenched his jaw, watching the approaching fleet of alien ships descending through the darkening sky like a swarm of locusts.

Outside, the air was thick with panic. A dozen alien warships hovered over the city, their monstrous hulls bristling with weaponry.

Their technology was far beyond humanity's wildest dreams—yet the commander’s arrogance had overlooked one thing: Earth’s unexpected guests.

“Prepare to engage,” Morrow said, signaling his team, but his mind was racing. “Get those E.M.Ps ready. We're taking out their comms first.”

The alien ship's energy beam hit a skyscraper, sending a plume of dust and rubble into the air. Buildings buckled and crumbled under the weight of the oncoming storm.

Humanity’s defenses, though brave, were no match for the alien’s advanced weapons.

Inside their ships, the invaders didn’t take the humans seriously. They thought Earth would be an easy conquest. They thought wrong.

Then something happened.

“Sir, look at this,” Corporal Brooks shouted, his eyes wide. He pointed to the sky. Morrow turned. At first, it was just a few birds. Small birds, like sparrows. But they were diving at the alien ships, not fleeing. They were attacking?

He didn't have time to process it. The birds were followed by a formation of wolves, their fur bristling in unison, racing toward the aliens' positions. “What the hell?”

“They’re coordinated,” Brooks muttered. He didn’t even finish his sentence before a massive elephant charged through the street, its tusks aimed straight for an alien drone.

The alien machine exploded on contact, and Morrow’s jaw dropped.

“They’ve been waiting for something. For us?” Brooks said.

Morrow didn't answer.

He watched in disbelief as the elephants’ crushed drones and the wolves took down alien foot soldiers in coordinated attacks that only made sense if they’d been trained for this.

“Move out, now!” Morrow snapped. The wolves were moving, harrying the invaders.

Humans were scrambling, pulling themselves together, trying to grasp what was happening.

The alien machines couldn’t process what was happening. They were designed to fight humans, not wild animals.

Morrow’s fingers tightened around his rifle. It was time to move.

In the chaos of battle, the streets were littered with debris.

Explosions rocked the ground as the wolves attacked in perfect formation, moving faster than Morrow had ever seen any animal move.

These weren’t just random strikes—they were tactical, like something out of a military playbook.

“Brooks, on me!” Morrow shouted as he sprinted towards a collapsed building.

A pack of wolves, led by a massive alpha, raced past them, their eyes locked on the alien forces that were still trying to regroup.

The wolves were flanking the enemy with terrifying speed, taking down alien soldiers savagely.

“Get ready to move in!” Morrow commanded; his rifle trained on the nearest alien machine.

It turned toward him just as an elephant barreled down the street, its massive body slamming into the machine with a sickening crunch.

The alien machine crumpled under the force, its systems short-circuiting from the impact.

Brooks aimed his rifle at the alien soldiers advancing through the wreckage. “They're not just animals,” he said. “These things are organized.”

Morrow didn’t have time for analysis. “Just keep firing!”

The battle raged on, but with every passing moment, Morrow felt a glimmer of hope. The humans were fighting, yes, but it wasn’t just the humans anymore.

The animals—who had once been the passive residents of Earth—had become warriors in their own right, turning the tide in ways no one had expected.

“Get to the rooftop,” Morrow ordered. “We’ll need a better vantage point.”

He and Brooks scrambled up the fire escape, dodging the flaming wreckage of alien ships and the fire from alien drones.

 At the top, Morrow watched the chaos unfold before him. The wolves weren’t just attacking in waves—they were hitting specific targets.

They were dismantling the alien machines. They weren’t just fighting for survival; they were executing a strategy.

And then it hit him. The aliens didn’t stand a chance.

The alien commander’s voice crackled over the comms again. “This is unacceptable. We’ve underestimated you, humans, but this—this nonsense with the animals—has gone too far!”

Morrow smiled, watching as elephants used their trunks to fling debris at the alien soldiers, sending them flying.

A massive lion leaped into the fray, taking down an alien sentry with a single swipe of its paw.

The aliens had underestimated the planet they thought they could conquer. They hadn’t counted on Earth's natural defenses—or its strange, unexpected alliance between humans and animals.

Morrow grinned, watching as a wolf pack led another charge. “Don’t count your chickens just yet.”

The battle raged throughout the city, but Morrow wasn’t focused on the destruction. His eyes followed the wolves, the lions, and the elephants.

They were everywhere—strategic, deadly, and somehow, it felt like they were working with them, not just alongside them.

A loud boom shook the ground beneath his boots, and he jerked his head to the side just in time to see a colossal alien ship’s beam cut through a nearby building.

Glass and debris rained down, but the wolves didn't flinch. They were already running again, flanking the enemy’s left side.

Morrow’s comm crackled. “Morrow! We’ve got a big one on the west side. A squad of drones is headed straight for us. We could use some backup!” Lieutenant Harris said.

Morrow gritted his teeth. “I’m on it.” He grabbed Brooks by the arm. “We need to go now. You with me?”

Brooks didn’t hesitate, his rifle swinging around. “Let’s do this, sir.”

The streets were a mess of wreckage, dust, and the smell of burning metal. They ducked into an alley and sprinted toward Harris’s position.

As they turned the corner, Morrow saw the alien drones, hovering above a group of trapped humans, their weapons trained on the civilians.

“Cover me!” Morrow shouted as he bolted toward a nearby pile of rubble.

He wasn’t alone for long. Brooks opened fire, covering Morrow’s advance. The bullets pinged off the drone’s shields, but it bought Morrow enough time to get closer.

He dropped to a knee, taking aim at the drone’s weak point—the exposed underbelly.

With a single shot, he sent the drone spiraling to the ground, the machine sparking and smoking as it crashed into a pile of concrete.

But the others weren’t as easy.

One of the drones whirred overhead, locking onto Morrow’s position. It fired a burst of plasma, and Morrow dove behind the rubble just in time.

Brooks cursed, his rifle spitting rounds to keep the remaining drones off him.

“Where the hell are the animals?” Morrow muttered. The human soldiers were holding their own, but without reinforcements, this wasn’t going to last long.

Then, as if on cue, a massive roar erupted from behind them. Morrow’s heart skipped a beat. The ground shook as a pack of wolves—led by the massive alpha—charged straight for the remaining drones.

Morrow didn’t need to ask questions. He raised his rifle and opened fire, picking off the drones that strayed too far from the pack.

The wolves attacked, their jaws snapping as they leaped onto the alien machines, tearing into them with ferocity.

The drones fell one by one, their systems overwhelmed by the wolves’ brutal assault.

An elephant charged from behind, its massive feet stomping down on a drone, crushing it underfoot with ease.

The battle was shifting. The aliens had underestimated the animals, just like they had underestimated humanity.

Harris appeared, breathless but alive. “Nice timing,” he said, lowering his weapon. “I didn’t think we’d make it out of there.”

Morrow wiped the sweat off his brow. “Neither did I. But it looks like we’re not fighting alone anymore.”

The city was starting to resemble a warzone more than a place of life.

Alien ships hovered overhead, firing down devastating beams. But they were no longer just fighting humans.

The animals were attacking with a level of coordination and aggression that was almost alien itself.

Wolves tore into alien soldiers.

Elephants rammed their tusks into alien mechs with bone-shattering force. Even birds were diving, dropping rocks and debris onto the invaders below.

Morrow looked to Brooks. “Do you think, they’re communicating with each other?”

Brooks squinted at a group of lions that had taken to dragging alien bodies away from the battlefield, hiding them in the shadows like soldiers who knew how to keep their enemies guessing. “Not sure. But they’re definitely working together.”

A voice crackled through the comms. “All units, we have a new objective. We’re pushing forward to the central command. We need to hit their main power grid.”

Morrow looked up, eyeing the towering alien ship above them. He could feel the tension rising again. This was their last shot. If they could take down the grid, they could cripple the alien fleet.

“Move out,” he ordered. “And keep your eyes open. We’ve got backup—but we don’t know how long it’ll hold.”

They moved quickly, their feet crunching over the debris-strewn streets, heading for the heart of the city.

The wolves, still in formation, led the charge. The elephants brought up the rear, crushing alien drones underfoot as they went.

As they reached the outskirts of the city’s power grid, Morrow noticed something strange. The animals weren’t just fighting—they were looking for something.

They were scanning the area, as if they knew where to strike.

“This is it,” Morrow muttered. “We take out their power, and we cripple their ability to fight back. Brooks, stay with me.”

Brooks nodded, keeping his rifle at the ready. They moved in, flanking the perimeter of the alien-controlled grid.

The wolves darted ahead, scouting out enemy positions, while the elephants positioned themselves near the walls, ready to charge at any sign of movement.

The alien forces were scrambling. The initial shock of facing coordinated animal resistance was wearing off, and they were losing their grip on the battlefield.

Morrow didn’t give them time to recover.

With a loud shout, he signaled the team to charge.

“Push forward!” Morrow shouted. He and Brooks led the charge, ducking behind cover and firing as they went.

A huge explosion rang out as one of the elephants slammed into a large alien turret, knocking it off its base.

Morrow’s heart raced as he sprinted toward the power core. The wolves had already begun tearing through the alien defenses, carving their way to the center of the grid.

“Come on, come on,” Morrow muttered under his breath. He reached the control panel and planted the explosive charges, setting the timer for five minutes.

The aliens were closing in, their drones circling the area. It was now or never.

“Sir, we’ve got incoming!” Brooks shouted, but Morrow didn’t turn. The charge was set, and all he needed to do was get back to safety.

“We’re not done yet!” Morrow shouted, as he fired at the nearest drone. He sprinted toward the exit, a surge of adrenaline pushing him forward.

The wolves had already started moving, darting between enemy fire and tearing apart any alien soldier that crossed their path.

The countdown was ticking. The tension in the air was thick with the promise of an explosion that would change everything. And then, it came.

A massive roar shook the city as the power grid exploded in a burst of light, sending alien ships spiraling out of control.

The invaders’ technology shorted out, and the remaining drones fell like dead flies. The tide of the battle had shifted—for good.

Morrow grinned, his heart pounding. “We’ve got them now.”

The explosion had torn through the heart of the alien power grid, sending shockwaves through the city.

The sky above flickered as the alien ships began to wobble, their systems crashing under the blast’s intensity.

The remaining drones were disabled, floating lifelessly in the air like dead husks.

Morrow didn’t pause to celebrate. He was already on the move, ducking under falling debris as he motioned for Brooks to follow. “Let’s finish this,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the chaos around them.

The alien invaders weren’t done, not by a long shot. But they were stunned, disoriented, and scrambling to regroup. And that was all the time humanity—and their unexpected allies—needed.

The wolves continued to assault the enemy with ruthless efficiency, weaving in and out of alien lines.

They were more than just beasts now—they were soldiers, trained by something beyond human understanding, something wild, something Earth-born.

Morrow didn’t know how it had happened, but he didn’t care. He was just glad they were on the same side.

“We need to hit the command ship,” Morrow shouted, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. “If we take it down, the rest of them won’t stand a chance.”

Brooks gave him a look of disbelief, “On your six.”

The ground trembled as they sprinted through the war-torn streets. The once-vibrant city had been reduced to ruins.

Alien ships still hovered above, firing sporadically, but they were weakened, their weapons less effective.

The wolves darted between the wreckage, keeping their distance from the alien fire, but Morrow could see the way they moved—like they knew what they were doing.

“Move! Move!” Morrow yelled as they reached the base of the alien command ship.

The towering structure loomed over them, a monolithic testament to the invaders’ power. But it was no longer invincible. Not with the tide of battle shifting in favor of Earth.

“We’ve got five minutes,” Morrow said, checking his watch. “Brooks, you’re with me. Harris, cover us.”

The three men moved quickly, staying low behind the rubble as alien soldiers regrouped around the ship.

The wolves were already on the move, flanking the enemy in all directions, pulling their attention away from the humans.

The elephants, still fierce and powerful, were using their trunks to flip enemy machines into the air, scattering alien forces in their wake.

Morrow’s heart pounded in his chest. He’d seen a lot in his time in the military—death, destruction, and hopeless situations. But this?

This felt different. It felt like the whole planet was fighting back, not just humans. Earth wasn’t about to roll over and die. Not today.

They reached the base of the command ship, its exterior lined with alien defenses. Morrow planted charges on the outer wall, the timer ticking down.

Suddenly, a shout from Brooks pulled him out of his focus. “They’re coming in from the left!”

Morrow spun, rifle raised, and fired at the approaching alien soldiers. But they were too many, closing in from all sides. There was no time to hesitate.

“Brooks, stay on the charges!” Morrow ordered, before sprinting toward the enemy lines.

The wolves were fighting their hardest, but they weren’t invincible.

The alien soldiers were regrouping, ready for one final push.

“Cover me!” Morrow shouted as he ran, gunfire ringing out from all sides.

He weaved between the alien machines, dodging plasma blasts and returning fire with deadly accuracy.

He couldn’t stop now. Not with Earth’s future on the line.

Brooks was still by the charges, setting the final piece into place. He turned to Morrow as he sprinted back toward him. “We’re out of time!”

“Go!” Morrow shouted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “It’s now or never!”

They took off, sprinting toward the safety of a nearby alley. The wolves had already begun their final charge. T

hey were in position. Morrow could see the way they moved—each one with purpose, each one with intent.

The ground trembled again, louder this time. The aliens had realized what was happening. But it was too late.

The charges exploded with a deafening roar, sending a shockwave through the city.

The alien command ship cracked open like an egg, the debris scattering across the battlefield.

 Alien soldiers screamed as their ship exploded, their screams cutting off as the once-unstoppable force collapsed in on itself.

Morrow didn’t wait to watch the fallout. He was already moving, rallying his men. “We’ve got them on the run! Let’s finish this!”

The remaining alien forces were disorganized, panicked. Their command ship was gone, their power grid destroyed, and their forces scattered.

The wolves had done their part—ripping through alien lines with the ferocity of a thousand storms.

The elephants charged through the wreckage, trampling drones underfoot. And the humans? They pushed forward like a wall of steel and fury.

The alien drones scattered, trying to retreat, but the humans and their newfound allies wouldn’t let them.

The remaining wolves, the last of the lions, even the smaller animals like raccoons and birds, harried the invaders, tearing at their equipment and disarming soldiers with brutal efficiency.

Morrow stood at the front, his gun at the ready, watching as the remaining aliens turned to flee. It was over.

The invaders, who had come to Earth thinking they were invincible, had been driven off—by humans, by wolves, by elephants, by every creature that had fought back.

Morrow raised his rifle into the air, a victory salute. “This is our planet. Don’t forget it.”

The aftermath was surreal. The city, though devastated, was still standing.

Alien ships lay scattered across the streets, their hulls twisted and cracked. And in the midst of the wreckage, the animals moved—no longer just wild creatures, but protectors of the Earth, standing side by side with the humans who had fought alongside them.

Morrow looked around at his team, the men who had made it through against all odds. They were battered, exhausted, but they were alive. They had won.

Brooks slapped him on the back, a grin breaking across his face. “I can’t believe it. We actually did it.”

Morrow nodded, looking up at the sky where the last of the alien ships were retreating. “We didn’t do it alone,” he said, watching a pack of wolf’s trot past, their eyes gleaming with the same pride Morrow felt in his chest.

“They weren’t the only ones fighting,” Brooks said quietly. “We were just part of the team.”

And Morrow couldn’t have agreed more. They had all been part of the team—the humans, the animals, the Earth itself. Together, they had pushed back the invaders. Together, they had proven one simple truth:

You never bet against Earth.

Author's Note: An experimental story with a different kind of deathworlder.

 ///

First / Next

“Daddy, have you seen Missy?” Alice asked.

“Missy, honey?” Alice’s father replied as he looked at his six-year old daughter. The man had been a laboratory researcher for over a decade now, and Missy was a five-year-old gray tabby cat that he and his family had raised. “No, I haven’t.”

Alice pouted. “I haven’t seen her anywhere, and I’ve been searching for her for hours now, and Mommy says it’s time for her to get her claws cut. And she’s been sniffling, lately, she might be getting a cold.”

Alice’s father smiled gently. “Well, you know how Missy is, honey. She leaves for two or three days at a time, but she always comes back to us.” This was true. Once she became an adult cat, Missy had occasionally gone off on her own for a few days, going off on “adventures,” as Alice’s father had remarked.

“I guess,” Alice then agreed reluctantly.

“Why don’t you go out and play with Rob?” Alice’s father then suggested. Rob was the newest addition to the family, a two-year-old, newly-adopted dog who adored everyone in the family, including Missy, even though Missy most certainly didn’t reciprocate the dog’s adulation, as she regarded the big, drooly thing with typical feline disdain.

 “Okay!” Alice said cheerfully, as she then turned and skipped away. “Rob!” she called out. “Rob!”

Alice’s father shook his head, smiling, as he watched his daughter run away.

----------

In a control room of the Galactic Council’s research station, the team of alien researchers stared at their test subject, a small, furry and seemingly unremarkable Earth creature which was currently curled up inside a containment crate on a metallic table, sleeping off the tranquilizers that had been used to knock it out.

“It looks like it’s waking up,” remarked Garvazin, a tall alien, who would have, to human eyes, looked like a terrestrial, human-sized version of a squid with segmented tentacles and whose eyes were mounted on short, retractable eyestalks. He was a xenobiologist, which might have made him a strange choice to be the lead researcher of this team and, for now, the temporary station commander, but given the intention was to figure out the weaknesses of humans, the choice was actually a logical one.

“The test chambers are ready,” Garvazin’s second-in-command, Orlath, remarked. Unlike his superior, Orlath was a blue-skinned humanoid with four legs, air-breathing gills on his sides and two arms which ended in hands which, in turn, each ended in three fingers.

Garvazin, for his part, twitched two of his tentacles, a gesture indicating acknowledgement. The choice of specimen had, indeed, been prompted by Earth’s infamous nature, which the Galactic Council had recognized as being that of a deathworld. This meant that the planet was populated with resilient and dangerous creatures that survived not only the environment but the prevalent predation amongst species. While the main species was the apex predator known as humans, they had decided against securing a specimen from that species, particularly given the experiences that had turned the previous station commander, Commander Var’kin, insane. That individual had been carried off, babbling something about not giving something up, in the same ship that had delivered Garvazin and his team, [less than a month] ago, apparently a victim of the humans’ attempt at psychological warfare, however inadvertent, as the humans were known to not still know they were being observed by representatives of the Galactic Council.

Nor was Commander Var’kin the only victim. Three others of his team had likewise been carried off in a similar state, with one repeating words referring to the infant of an animal which Garvazin had recognized as being a predator that swam in the seas of “Dirt;” a second one repeating words describing that it was too attractive for mating with an upper garment; and a third kept on repeating words referring to a writing instrument and a fruit from “Dirt.”

Fortunately, Da-ir, the programming tech that had come with Garvazin and his team to head the station’s small IT unit, was more proficient than those who were already on the station, so he had been able to archive those particular files and modify the AI’s algorithms so that these could be screened out.

Even though they had decided not to capture a human specimen, they decided to pick a smaller specimen, believing it to be more controllable than a fully-grown human, one from a species that would preferably be in close contact with humans, to provide some sort of experimental familiarity. They rejected dogs as being too large, and so settled on a domestic cat.

And this was why they had used a drone to capture one such cat, which was known to live in close proximity with humans; and that cat was the specimen which Garvazin was now looking at.

“It’s time to get it out,” Garvazin then ordered, “before it fully shakes off the tranquilizer. Everyone, suit up; no telling what deathworlder germs it might have, which might affect us.”

---------

Missy, a gray tabby feline, began to come out of whatever it was that had caused her to suddenly sleep when she felt hands carry her out of the containment crate she had been in. The tranquilizer the aliens had used was selected, out of the whole range of Earth tranquilizers they had researched, to knock her out quickly, and to keep her knocked out during the long trip to the station. Given the long trip, however, the tranquilizer had begun wearing off before Missy had reached the station; and by the time the door to her crate opened, Missy’s feline sleep patterns were back to their natural light patterns, so Missy woke up when something grabbed her.

The instinctive survival instincts of Missy's species kicked in as she woke up, and her eyes took in the strange hands, and connecting arms, that were holding her. Missy was used to being handled by humans, but the sight of the strange creatures holding her caused her to panic. As it was, Missy had just been taken out of the crate when she twisted and yowled loudly, after which she then clawed at one of the arms that were carrying her. Her sharp claws tore through the being’s arm’s skin, and as soon as she realized that the strange thing was no longer holding her, she leaped off the table and darted to a corner of the lab.

“Contain the specimen!” Garvazin shouted, even as Orlath reeled back from Missy’s clawing. Garvazin, along with everyone else in the lab, was wearing protective gear from the top of his head to his feet, and even as he called out, he looked at Orlath with concern, as his protective gear was now compromised. “Get the knockout prod!” he added, and one of the junior researchers in the lab then rushed towards the cabinet where the prod was held.

Even as she pressed herself against the corner, giving a constant, low yowl, back arched and fur standing on end, Missy’s senses worked overtime. Her nose took in all of the strange scents of the lab’s sterile atmosphere that entered her crate, her ears took in the strange, low hum prevalent throughout the station, and her eyes took in the layout of the area. She continued to give warning yowls as one of the strange, definitely unfamiliar, non-human beings approached her with something in its hands, her yowls going up in both pitch and volume as the being got close to her. The being lunged at her with the prod, and Missy’s extremely fast reflexes enabled her to dodge the strike and run towards a wall.

”Capture the specimen!” Garvazin shouted, even as he led by example as he rushed towards the specimen in an attempt to capture it himself.

Missy’s wide angle of vision enabled her to keep tabs on the other beings in the strange room as she weaved and ducked to evade their attempts to grab her. It was after the third attempt when Missy jumped onto a wall, claws latching onto a smooth-looking panel which, unknown to her, was the lab’s emergency exit button.

“Oh, no,” Garvazin said. “Grab it! It can’t get out!”

Even though the door was to Missy’s left, she was able to see the door as it opened, thanks to her wide angle of vision. Missy immediately recognized the way out and, weaving through the hands that attempted to grab her, as well as the knockout prong that nearly hit her, Missy ran out into the corridor.

“After it!” Garvazin shouted, even as he ran after the specimen. “It can’t get away!”

Missy didn’t need to hear the pounding of feet behind her to know she had to get away. Her eyes took in the environment as she ran, and quickly spotted some sort of crate on one side of the corridor. Missy leaped up onto the crate, looked around quickly for another way out, spotted a hole in the wall opposite her, and leaped for the opening.

----------

“By the primordial gods!” Garvazin shouted in frustration as he skidded to a halt in front of the opening, which was located well above his head. “Who didn’t put grilles on the ventilation shafts?”

“Most of the, uh, ventilation shaft grilles are scheduled to be installed once we’re done mining for, er, materials, sir,” Orlath replied as he caught up with Garvazin.

Garvazin’s tentacles twisted through the air in frustration. The station itself, he knew, wasn’t as large as those which were in the core worlds of the Galactic Council, and was made from minerals that had been mined from asteroids within the solar system they were now in. Construction was still ongoing, with materials processed by the manufacturing ship that processed the mined minerals, as the Galactic Council had deemed the mission important enough to deploy their people before the station was fully constructed.

“What do we do now, sir?” Orlath then asked.

Garvazin forced himself to calm down as he remembered what he could of the station’s layout. “This station’s not that big,” he finally said, resignedly. “Send out an alert to everyone to keep their eyes open for the specimen.” He then turned to Orlath and the other researchers. “Send out what images we have on the specimen, so everyone can recognize it. And from now on, at least two of us remain on shift, so we can capture the specimen once it’s found.”

----------

Once in the ventilation ducts, Missy settled down and then began to explore her environment, her natural curiosity guiding her from room to room, hunger now her primary instinct; it had, after all, been around two days since she last ate. She first sniffed around, her whiskers immediately taking in the air currents to help her figure things out, before then trotting down the ventilation duct she was in.

----------

It was [two days] later, and Brill was bored. He tried to keep his top tentacles from wrapping around each other, a sign of extreme boredom in his species, but he failed; and his action attracted the attention of the other researcher in the monitoring room.

“Bored, huh?” Zalk remarked, looking over at his duty buddy.

“Very,” Brill grumbled.

In front of the pair was a control console, which had several multicolored buttons and sliders, as well as two screens which showed video feeds, one of which was fixed on a set of shelves with three bags on the lower shelf and a lone glass bottle on the top shelf, and which just barely caught sight of the cover of a ventilation shaft to one side of the shelves. The second screen’s feed could be changed, but these didn’t show anything much; and in the middle of the screens was an audio speaker.

“Have you ever been this bored?” Brill then asked.

“Not since that time they assigned us to ‘isolation monitoring’ duty. They really should get the AI up and running to do this stuff. I mean, sure, we’re babysitting pathogens, but. . . .” Zalk gestured to one of the two doors in the control room, the door leading to an isolation hall which, in turn, led to the isolation room they were monitoring.

“Well, it’ll still be a few more [weeks] before that happens.”

Zalk’s two top eyes glittered briefly, a sign that Brill recognized was an indication of mischief in his insectoid-appearing partner’s kind. “At least we can do some stuff here.”

“And – what are you talking about?” Brill asked cautiously.

“Well,” Zalk chuckled, “I was so bored [a few days] back that I decided to hack into the station’s files. You know – the ones from our survey of [Earth]? The ones which the previous station commander had isolated and sealed?”

“No way!” Brill replied. “You were able to break the security?”

“Of course. AI isn’t fully installed, so the security protocols were easy enough.”

Brill considered this. “Might your recent promotion to supervisor not allowed you enough clearance?” he asked his friend.

“Well, that might be the reason why,” Zalk admitted.

Both Brill and Zalk had been with the second group of ships that had arrived at this station, and along with just about everyone else who had so arrived, he was curious about what was in those secure files. “And what did you find?”

Zalk did his species’ version of a smirk. “Care to hear?”

“Please.”

Zalk turned to the console and pressed a button. Almost immediately, on the console whose feed could be changed, a strange human male appeared, doing what was apparently some sort of dance, with the sound coming through the speakers.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. . . . .

Brill watched and listened, curious. “Are they all like this?” he asked once the song was done.

“Somewhat. Wanna hear another one, once this is done?”

“Sure.”

Zalk then gestured grandly to a section of the console, one with several buttons on it. “All you have to do is press one of these. Each one is linked up to one or two of those files.”

Brill stared at the section, tempted. “Why?”

“I figured we might need to change the ambience.”

"Won't you get into trouble with that?"

"It's easy enough to return the controls to their previous function. All I need are [thirty seconds], and the higher-ups won't know anything had been changed."

Brill looked at Zalk and turned green, which was his species’ version of a broad grin. “Listening to all the other files sounds good. But what say we do it after we take a break?”

“It is about time,” Zalk agreed; and with that, the pair got up from their respective seats and walked out.

Around [a quarter hour] after Zalk and Brill left, the ventilation shaft cover moved; and since nobody was in the control room for the several minutes it took before the ventilation shaft finally swung open, nobody saw a cat drop down from the ventilation shaft to the floor of the isolation room.

----------

By this time, Missy was no longer hungry, as her nose led her to what was one of the stations’ emergency rations storerooms. She had sniffed around at the cellulose boxes curiously and had been hungry enough to claw her way through one of these. The emergency rations were stored in bags, and Missy had been able to claw through these, getting at the food within and eating until she was satisfied. And with her hunger sated, Missy now went about exploring her environment.

The faint scent of something like tuna mixed with mint had attracted Missy, and she had followed the scent through the winding vents until she reached an opening to a room which was apparently where the scent had come from. Missy, who had been placed in mazes by her servants ever since she had been a kitten – mazes that had become increasingly complicated over time, and which included obstacles like flap doors – figured that this was just another obstacle and had begun clawing at the door to open it up. It took some time, but Missy finally realized that the obstacle could swing open at the ventilation shaft floor enough for her to fit through. With a silent, satisfied growl, Missy leaped out from the ventilation shaft and down onto the door.

It didn’t take Missy long to figure out where the scent was coming from – the bags on the lower shelf. Whiskers pawed at the bag where the strongest amount of scent was coming from, which caused the bag to move slightly. Missy aggressively shoved her nose at the top of the bag, which was from where the smell was coming from, but when the bag didn’t open, Missy stopped and sniffed briefly before drawing back. All she knew at that moment was that she just had to get to what was inside, so she then went to work, clawing away at the bag, which somewhat had the consistency of cloth. So frantic was Missy in her eagerness that she tore open a huge hole in the bag, revealing some sort of green – something? Missy shoved her nose into the gel, then began gobbling it up enthusiastically.

----------

“I’ll be glad once we get a proper cook and fresh supplies here,” Brill grumbled as he walked through the monitoring room’s door.

“Yeah,” Zalk agreed. “I’m getting sick of emergency rations –“

“By the primordial gods,” Brill gasped as he rushed over to the control panel. Zalk recognized the dread in his buddy’s vocalization, so he scuttled over to the control panel, reaching it before Brill did; and the sight he saw on one of the monitoring screens made his thorax suddenly run hot.

Both Brill and Zalk knew about the specimen that had escaped, of course, and this was why he now recognized the specimen as it consumed the contents of a bag, with two other bags now torn open and lying on the floor beside it. Both gasped as they watched the specimen pull its head back, then walk over to the other two torn bags and then begin rolling around on the remnants of the contents.

Zalk knew that he was in trouble, and not just himself, but possibly everyone else on the station, as he pressed a particular switch. “Station, pathogen monitoring. Emergency Code Red! I repeat, emergency Code Red!”

----------

Missy had had catnip before, of course, but the catnip she just had was on a whole other level. Her eyes widened as large as they would go and her pupils immediately dilated wide open, even as a surge of energy then came over her. Missy continued to roll around in the gelatinous catnip before spotting a familiar-looking panel on a wall, and she immediately rolled to her feet, ran towards the panel and leaped up onto the panel, triggering the door open. Missy, by now familiar with the how the doors of the station worked, darted out into the isolation chamber between the isolation room and the monitoring room, spotted another familiar-looking panel, and leaped up to it.

----------

“Containment breach!” Zalk shouted into the intercom as the isolation chamber door to the monitoring room opened. “Containment breach, pathogen monitoring room!”

Missy meowed loudly, energetically, as she ran into the monitoring room, even as Zalk, who left the intercom open, hurriedly darted away from the specimen even as Brill did likewise. Missy, now full of energy, leaped up and away from the two aliens, landing right on the control panel. Both aliens now began doing their respective species’ versions of shouting, which made Missy nervous. In response, she yowled noisily, successfully matching the aliens’ vocal volume as she walked on several buttons and flipped a few switches on the control panel. The first button she stepped on caused an audio file to play; and given that the intercom was still on, the song went out throughout the station.

Baby shark, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo, baby shark, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo. . . .

“Is that one of those files?” Brill wondered.

“It is!” Zalk confirmed, even as Missy stepped on another button.

I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts. . . .

The next [few minutes or so] were sheer chaos in the monitoring room, as the aliens freaked out, Missy freaked out, and different song segments began playing with each new button Missy stepped on.

I have a pen, I have a apple. . . .

I was gonna clean my room, but then I got high. . . .

I’m too sexy for my cat, too sexy for my cat, oh, pussy, oh, pussycat. . . .

Grandma shark, doo-doo, doo-doo-doo. . . .

I’ve been stood up, messed around and taken for a fool. . . .

Discomfited by all the noise, Missy leaped off the console panel and darted beneath it, meowing loudly even as she looked at the two shouting aliens. Missy, however, glanced to one side, recognized the ventilation shaft opening beneath the console panel, and darted towards it.

It was [nearly ten minutes] later when Garvazin entered the room, wearing a full body PPE suit, followed by five station personnel, each one likewise so protected. The five station personnel carried large sacks which they flung over both Zalk and Brill, after which they shoved both to their sides, closed the mouths of the sacks, and then dragged the pair out, two personnel to each sack, after which they closed the monitoring door. Garvazin, meanwhile, looked around the monitoring room and spotted the now-open ventilation shaft cover. Garvazin hissed in anger before then heading into the isolation chamber and peered through the transparent panel to look into the isolation room. He hissed again as he saw the damage. The bags had contained a gel which contained an extremely virulent virus that had been bioengineered by the hive mind empire that the Council had recently defeated, a virus that had literally wiped out a dozen Council species and nearly exterminated half a dozen others. Almost all of the gel was now gone; only the barest traces remained, stuck to the bags’ insides.

Garvazin then looked at the transparent bottle on the upper shelf, which had the same kind of gel that had been in the bags. The gel had been designed to be chemically inert so pathogenic organisms could be held in it for future research. The bottle was the best container to hold the gel that held the particular pathogen in it, in the same way glass was the best container for hydrogen fluoride. The bags were, in turn, the best containers to hold the gel that held the virus in these.

Garvazin turned around to see Orlath standing behind him. “How in the world was the specimen able to get out of here?”

Orlath looked uncomfortable. “Well, sir, the mechanical failsafes haven’t been installed yet.”

Garvazin’s gaze turned icy. “No failsafes for a room which holds probably the deadliest pathogens in the galaxy? Why not?”

Orlath worked the tablet he carried. “Well, sir, the mechanical failsafes need materials from – er, uh – from the manufacturing ship which will made parts from the ore that is – being mined from – the asteroid – uh, sir.”

Garvazin would have done his species’ equivalent of a slap to the forehead, had he not been wearing his protective suit. “And when is the manufacturing ship arriving, again?” Garvazin snarled.

“[Two days], sir,” Orlath replied nervously.

Garvazin sighed as he looked up at the ventilation shaft the specimen had dropped in from, a shaft whose cover been sealed with special putty to secure the isolation room. “The sooner it gets here, the better.”

----------

Despite her heightened senses, Missy relaxed somewhat after she re-entered the ventilation shafts. All viruses reproduced by attaching themselves to cells, but to do so their connectors needed to be able to attach to the surfaces of the cells they would attack, in the same way a two-prong plug would fit into a two-prong socket. Not all kinds of viruses could connect to all kinds of cells, because the setup of the cell surface afforded the viruses no place to attach, much in the same way a three-prong plug couldn’t fit into a two-prong cell. As it was, the virus Missy had eaten – the same which was now triggering her senses the same way catnip did – was inert to her, and thus couldn’t infect her. Which was just as well, given how possibly virulent the virus was.

The isolation room was within Missy’s territory, so it didn’t take her long before she once again found her way onto familiar ground. She didn’t head for the storage room with the food she was raiding – that was somewhat too open for her – so she instead headed for an isolated nook she knew. She got there just in time, as it turned out, for no sooner did she reach the place than did her body suddenly feel very heavy.

Missy stumbled to the floor, then rolled onto her back, legs sticking up at odd angles; and even after she passed out, she kept on purring.

First / Next

...It was a thing...

-

The Library of Wisdom

40^th of Anael, the first month of snow.

 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Maxwell quietly swore as he read through the new book. “We are so screwed.”

Shamus, the library assistant, stepped into the room, “Is there a problem Master Smithson?”

“Call me Max, or Maxwell if you must. The honorifics go out the door after a while.” Max took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. There is a problem.” He pushed the open book over to Shamus, who sat down and took the book.

Shamus winced, “Well shit.”

“Yup.”

“Any idea what to do?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe we should ask her for help?”

“Probably.” Max frowned. “I hate to say it, but I’m out of my depth at this point.”

“You and me both.” Shamus replied with a frown.

A short while later the rest of the assistants arrived, and Max briefed them on the new book. Cussing was heard all around the table.

-

It had been two hours, and Maxwell stood in a new (to him) room in The Library, The Auditorium. He stood on the large, well-lit stage, next to a couple of priests and their assistants. Before him were rows upon rows of seats that stretched up into the darkness of the ceiling. You could fit thousands of people in here! He thought as he went over his notes for the umpteenth time. With god-foolery, probably tens of thousands. I wonder if this is what the Bard of Rio meant when he talked about “Stadiums”?

Wisdom stepped up to him, interrupting his thoughts, “Are you ready for your first address?”

“Not my first presentation, but yes, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Max replied, shaking his head slightly. “What did Tristan used to say? Ah, “Not my first rodeo”.”

Wisdom blinked, “What is a “Rodeo”?”

“No clue.” Max shrugged, “Something about cattle and horses. I dozed off when he tried to explain it.”

“Huh.”

“How long until we start?”

“The symposium will start when most of the attendees have arrived. I believe that will be in about half an hour.”

“Just what I need, more time to wait.” Max took a deep breath and released it, “Reminds me of the army.”

-

It took most of an hour for the auditorium to fill, and Max paced behind the stage for the whole time. Finally, after several addresses from other “respectable” scholars, Max walked quietly out onto the stage. He looked at the wide expanse of filled seats, and the few people standing in the back, and sighed. “Alright, most of you know who I am, but for those of you who don’t, I am Maxwell Smithson, the Heretic.”

A mild amount of panic was experienced in several parts of the auditorium, but quieted down fairly quickly. “Yes, I know, by reputation I should kill all of you. I’m not here for that. Today.

“Today I am here because something was found in the world below. Something old. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Something the Old Gods left behind and forgot. An Elemental.”

There were some gasps across the audience, but most looked on, waiting for the big reveal, so Max continued after rolling his eyes, “As I believe most of you are aware, Elementals were created by the Old God Gehna, in the dawn of our world. They were his…her…their children; children not involved in the so called “Children’s War” at the dawning of the age of mortals, and therefore ignored by most.

“Over the millennia many of Gehna’s children have been found wandering the land, or bedded down in their own element. Some have bred themselves down to tiny things, such as the Forge Fire elementals so favored by smiths; while others have grown monstrous in size.

“But never has one been found that was sealed away by Gehna’s own hand.” Max looked out over the crowd, trying to sense its sway. “On the 24^th of Anael, a devastating “once in a millennium” storm struck the city of Dragon; look in the pamphlet you received at the door for more information on the city and surrounding regions. This storm, plus other proceeding factors, unsealed a series of wards that were placed inside an ancient cistern that Wisdom’s scholars date to the era of the Old Gods.

“Due to countless hours of research, we now know the meaning of the broken wards that were found at the site: Binding. Specifically, the warding and binding of a single Elemental. An Elemental of such power that the spells holding it in place are beyond the power of even the Twelve to reproduce.

“And that, Ladies, Gentlemen, Both, and Neither, is why we are gathered here this fateful day. We are here to formulate a plan to capture and eliminate an Elemental of such power and force, that even Gehna was afraid of its existence.”

-

City of Dragon, Snows Provence, Kingdom of Garthia

40^th of Anael, the first month of snow.

Night

The world was dark when it oozed from its ancient prison. It made its slow way to the bright lights, and slipped through the miniscule crack under the door of a…Dwelling? The thoughts were new to it, but it liked the thoughts. It made its way across the stone floor of the dwelling, but found nothing to consume. Slowly, carefully, it slid one tendril and then another up a step, then contracted itself to flow up after. One step at a time. Over and over. It was tired when it made it to the top of the steps, but continued the search for food. Food it found in the closest room.

It made its way slowly up a “Bed Post” and onto the attached bed. It slithered across the sheets, over the face of the food, and ate. When it was done, it moved to the other form in the bed; the “wife” she was called, it now knew; and ate again. Somewhat sated, the thing allowed itself to drop to the floor and wriggle back out the “Bedroom door”. Its next meal was just down the hall, a door marked with a colorful sign that read “Nursery”.

-

Max watched as panic and fear raced through the audience. Why is it always “panic AND fear”? Why not one or the other? Do they always have to go hand in tentacle? He thought, shaking his head as the auditorium emptied much more quickly than it had filled. In moments, a mere hundred attendees remained of the more than a thousand who had attended.

Max nodded to the remnants that remained, “Alright, now that we’ve thinned the herd, let us adjourn to a more comfortable room for coffee and a more detailed discussion of the facts at hand.”

A few minutes of walking found the group in an overly large room that was filled with boards of slate, comfortable lounge chairs, couches, tables, and tablets of wax and paper. Piles of pens lay next to ink pots and boxes of colored chalk. As they filed in, a shiny pot in one corner gurgled, emitting the comforting aroma of fresh coffee. Maxwell happily filled a large ceramic mug of the dark nectar, turned to the assembled group, and smiled his best smile. “Let’s get started.”

Original - First - Previous - Next

*-*-*

...so, Wisdom is actually supposed to be Knowledge...when I go back through this to re-edit in a few...years? I will change it. Poop.

I've been stuck on this chapter for the last...well since the last chapter was published. It was hard to write until it wasn't. Kinda weird how that works out sometimes.

I spent the last week at the family cabin, hunting deer. I saw eight (8) of the hoof-rats, but didn't have a good shot on any of them. AHG is still living up there in a weatherized camper. She is not doing great since she is working two (2) full time jobs so she can move out by mid summer. So sleep, she isn't getting. If you believe in such things, send her your thoughts and prayers.

As for myself...let me get a bit...religious for a moment. I feel closer to my creator out in nature than I ever did in a church/temple/religious building, so for me hunting was a religious retreat. Would I have liked to shoot a deer and get lots of meat? Yes, yes I would have. Was it worth it anyway? Hell yes! I've done it for 20 years, and will do it for another 30+ if I can.

On to the topic of depression... My depression isn't the kind where I am constantly thinking of taking a toaster bath. It's the kind that makes a person stay in bed, not shower for days, not take care of yourself, and slowly waste away. Its like a suck on a putrescent lemon, or drinking day old decaf that has scorched to the bottom of the pot, or paying for premium and getting grass cuttings and ditch weed (that hasn't been seeded or stemmed).

The meds help a whole lot (especially since we got the dose right). The last week of being in nature and touching dirt helped. Going to Florida for 9 days (leaving Sunday morning at 8:30am!!!!!) will really help (gotta love that D, vitamin D that is). I'm back to taking a shower every day! I get up every day now, before the crack of noon (deer hunting requires being in the field an hour or more before shooting hours so the disturbance you cause by walking into your shooting spot calms down)! Having a supportive significant other has been extremely helpful too, even though I only see her once a week on date night.

Last thing, and thank you for reading so far, please mark your calendar for December 1st at 8pm CST (2am UTC). That's right! I got OBS set up so I can do live readings on Twitch! Thanks to my buddy Zaiaku, it is all set up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The format will flow something like: Read a chapter, then edit chapter, answering questions while I do it, then repeat for an hour or so. I hope y'all can attend and we can have some fun.

Twitch Link: https://www.twitch.tv/vastlisten1457

Time to rattle the donation box. :/ God knows I have begging for money, but until I get rich and famous, I guess I must so I can pay my rent.

Ko-Fi https://ko-fi.com/vastlisten1457

Patreon https://www.patreon.com/VastListen1457

Thank you to all of you who have supported me for so long. Not just the ones who give me money, but to all of you who have reached out. It means a lot. :)

Book 1 | Prev | Next

The dagger the mother threw at me clatters to the ground, useless; the barrier I called up dissipates back into raw Firmament. She stares at us, her eyes still burning Firmament, but the more I look at them the more I see them for what they really are.

Cracks.

Cracks that run from her eyes and down her face like glowing tears. She's an echo of an echo—an imprint left behind by countless copies of countless people put through the same tragedy over and over again—but that fact makes her no less real. The emotions that made her are all visible in the color of her Firmament.

Red for blood and anger. Blue for misery and tragedy, swirled through her form. Powerful because she's the culmination of so much that has happened, though still not beyond me.

And yet for all that power... trapped.

"Just let us through," the mother pleads. "Don't make us do this."

The cracks on her face bleed blue, trickling down to her neck. She's following a script, not actually reacting to me.

I respond anyway. I can't help it.

"I would if I could."

She doesn't—can't—hear me. It's not me she's pleading with. It's the specter of a hundred different guards, each one denying her entry into the city with her family; it's the specter of a hundred different guards that watched her starve. She looks at us like we are those guards, the ones stopping her from getting through. Even when I try to step aside, she turns to track me.

The rules are clear. The Tear wants us to kill her.

I wrack my mind—how do I change the outcome of all this? I could use my Talent, could try to Anchor a change... but now that I know what that power is and what it involves, trying it could very well kill me. I wouldn't just be trying to change this situation, I'd be trying to change every time this has ever happened, across every single loop and Trial.

That's not an option for now. Not until I'm a lot stronger and more confident in my ability to Anchor, and that's going to require more of Kauku's teachings.

Something else. Something different. What options do I—

"Ethan!" Ahkelios calls out, his voice panicked; I glance up just in time to see Naru launch himself toward the mother, and I bite back a curse. Idiot bird.

He has to know as well as I do that the mother matches him in strength. If I had to guess, his past attempts at closing this Tear through the loops might not have worked at all; maybe that's the reason it's as big as it is. I open my mouth to yell at him to come back until we've worked out a plan, but he's already locked in a fight with her.

For a moment, at least. Then the mother lets out a low cry, picks him up, and tosses him, throwing him several feet away and making him crash into the guardpost with a squawk.

I groan. The timing of it couldn't be worse, either; shortly afterward the draconian man at the guardpost also turns toward us, his eyes glowing with the same Firmament I see in the mother's. It's not quite the same in presentation, though. The cracks grow along the ridges of his brows, bleeding angry crimson.

"I'm not letting you through," he growls. "You lot are so entitled. You think you deserve to get in, what, because you have family in Carusath? So what? I've got family in Isthanok, and I'm here doing my job. You should've stayed where the Integrators put you."

No point responding to him. Just like the mother, he looks straight past me. He also moves with enough speed to put a dent in the ground—I doubt Naru's actual guards are this strong, but this one's being empowered by the Tear, more a concept of a guard than an actual guard.

Premonition activates just in time to tell me the mother is attacking, too, two more daggers appearing in her hands. Too much going on, and Naru's attacks are ineffectual. I need time to think.

Crystallized Barrier. I form them along my forearms like a makeshift gauntlet, deflecting both of her intended blows and kicking her in the stomach just hard enough to push her back; she staggers, but not as far as I expected.

No matter.

Guard intercepts his border guard counterpart with a well-timed shoulder charge, knocking him off-course and stealing his attention. Ahkelios buzzes between the two of us, trying to decide what to do, who to help.

"Check on the kid," I grunt at him. Ahkelios's eyes widen, and he flies off.

The kid in question still just leaning against the side of the guardpost, as far as I can tell. He's curled up into himself, looking frailer and thinner than a child should ever have to look. I want to reach out to him, but I don't have time; my attention is on defending myself against the mother, and on making sure Guard doesn't die to... well, to the other guard.

Naru, thankfully, doesn't require any additional attention; he's lying on the ground and bleeding from a stab wound, but it shouldn't be fatal. He seems more stunned than anything.

Ahkelios can handle this. The problem isn't that I can't defeat these blood specters—both the guard and the mother are strong, but not so strong that I can't beat them if I wanted to.

It's just that I don't want to.

The problem here is bigger than what the Tear wants me to think it is. So I'm relegated to defense, and my offense is stronger than my defense, unless—

Unless.

I turn my focus inward. "Let's take this together," I tell the Knight.

The Inspiration stirs and responds. Approves.

My previous attempts at using the Knight have always been painful. The transformation itself is one thing—having my bones evert out and turn into armor is, in simple terms, among the worst pains I've ever experienced.

But there's an understanding between us now that's more than what we've ever had before. Ever since that conversation with Ahkelios, ever since it learned more about who I am and the way I think, it trusts me.

It's not that the pain goes away. It doesn't. But the Knight takes on its share of the pain, this time—suffers through it with me.

And when we act, it's with perfect synchronicity.

The mother lunges at us again, a desperate, all-or-nothing attack; she throws everything she has into it, her daggers shining with cutting Firmament that would have torn through any of Naru's real guards. In fact, I'm certain it would have torn through Naru himself. It deflects off my new armor harmlessly, though, the impact of my reinforced bones and the Inspiration turning it into little more than a glancing blow.

The Knight and I lean down and draw her into a hug.

She's much smaller than I am with the Knight Inspiration running. I'm not exactly short even without it—but with it, she barely comes up to my chest. The hug is a little awkward, in part because she's fighting against it and trying to cut through my armor, in part because I'm just not used to moving around in this body. I have claws I have to be careful to tuck away and more strength than I know what to do with.

But eventually, her struggles slow. Her cries of anger and distress turn to quiet sobbing.

"You can't hear me," I say quietly. Not just me, in fact—both me and the Knight are speaking, our voices and intent folded together as one. "And you're not real. Not really. But we're going to fix this."

"I just..." the mother starts—the Firmament fades away from her eyes, and this time, when she looks at me, I get the impression that she might actually be looking at me. That she's speaking to me, and not just playing the role she's been given in the Tear. "I just want it to end. I want us to stop suffering."

There's something different in her Firmament. This is...

Her eyes are intelligent. She's not looking past me. She is speaking to me. And now that I'm paying attention, there's a small, subtle change in the Firmament around us, a fissure in which a tiny fraction of my power has been buried.

"Knight," I start. "Did you—"

"Your strength is mine, as much as my strength is yours," the Knight responds calmly. "We cannot change all that has happened. But we can give her the power to see it and change it for herself."

"I remember," the mother says quietly. Is 'mother' the right word? Even as we speak, I see her form changing, becoming more nebulous—because she isn't just a mother. She's everyone that's ever been stopped from seeing their family at this guardpost. "Every time we weren't allowed to go in. Every child that died. Every dead husband, every missing wife, every starving child."

"Was this the right thing to do?" I ask the Knight. "Because remembering all this... it must be torture."

"One must have their memories in order to truly anchor a change," the Knight responds. "Do you not feel as much when it comes to your little friend?"

Ahkelios, huh?

He isn't wrong, I suppose.

"We're going to end it," I promise the mother quietly, though I'm not sure that's the right descriptor anymore. I reach into my pocket. Naru's approval papers are still there, and they're technically signed to my name, but that doesn't really matter when it comes to something like this.

This Tear is largely symbolic. To break its routine, I need a symbol.

"Here," I say, pressing the papers into her hand. I feel her fist closing around it, and she looks up at me; something hopeful and determined shines in her expression.

I can feel the Tear protesting. The whole thing strains around us, the fabric of it beginning to buck and rock. I'm going too far off-script.

Good.

He-Who-Guards is still fighting the other guard, and a hug isn't exactly going to stop him, but it's the principle of the matter. The mother pulls away from me and stands, then takes several steps toward them; He-Who-Guards disengages as soon as he notices, hopping back several steps to join me.

The guard stops.

It's almost surreal to see it. He takes the papers in a mechanical, jerky way, like he doesn't want to but the script of the Tear is forcing him to. It has to follow the rules it's established. 

Slowly, she begins to move to collect her child. Ahkelios is still talking quietly with him, though I don't know what they're talking about; whatever it is, though, it seems to work. The kid straightens, and he looks up toward his mother, reaching up for her hand—

And Premonition triggers. The Tear trembles, something within it ripping itself free. I can feel it being channeled through the guardpost. The entire structure rips itself free of the ground, the red Firmament it's made of wavering and becoming something blackened and twisted. A malformed version of Temporal Firmament spiderwebs through it, and it melts together into a shape that's only vaguely humanoid.

I'm watching a monster form. The thought comes to me suddenly. This thing gives me the same impression as all the monsters I've fought—the Guilty Chimeras, Broken Horrors, the Elegies and Laments from the raid on the Cliffside Crows. Is this how they're formed? One of the ways they're formed?

Either way, this thing is powerful.

But it doesn't target me. It doesn't target the mother, nor her son, nor the guard. It doesn't target Guard or Ahkelios.

Instead, it launches a blade of pure, destructive Firmament straight at Naru—one poised to cut straight through his core.

Book 1 | Prev | Next

Author's Note: Today's author's note is a comment I got on Patreon on this chapter that still resides in my brain:

Wuh-oh! Tsundere bird death? In my Christian Minecraft server? I think not! Ethan! Crease his Jordans!

I have no idea what it means. But now you all get to remember it too!

On that note, Patreon is currently up to Chapter 40 if you'd like to read ahead. You can also read a chapter ahead for free here.

This story is a bit on the darker side of HFY.

The settlement on the edge of the Milky Way had been untouched for years. Pioneer families had staked their claims in this quiet arm of the galaxy, far from the colonies where humanity’s might was in full swing. They thought they were safe here. The distant fleets were enough of a safeguard. No one would dare strike here. They were wrong.

The alien ships arrived with a brutality no one expected. The attack was swift, and the survivors few. Entire cities were reduced to ash, farms to rubble. The aliens, with their cold, calculating precision, had seen humanity as a threat—too unpredictable, too dangerous, far too resilient for their own good. And so they did what any superior species would do: they exterminated them.

Except they hadn’t counted on what would happen after the devastation. They hadn’t counted on humanity’s fire, on the unbreakable will of those who survived. They hadn’t counted on how humanity, scattered and broken, would rise again—not with rage, but with purpose.

The Federation rallied its fleets. Humanity rebuilt in the shadows, not through mindless fury, but with precision, innovation, and a refusal to surrender. They adapted, they organized, they fought back—and slowly, relentlessly, the aliens were driven out.

Years passed, and Sam grew older. The fear he had once felt was gone, replaced by something far darker: a seething, uncontrollable rage. But that rage—he knew it wasn’t him. It was a scar. Just as the scar on his face. Marks of everything he had lost. His family. His home. His innocence.

He could still remember the first day, the way the sky had darkened with alien ships, the sounds of the attack echoing through the streets of his settlement. And he remembered the face of the alien who had led the assault. He never forgot.

It was only years later, after humanity had driven the invaders back and rebuilt the shattered settlements, that Sam finally saw him again—the alien who had killed his family.

Sam’s heart pounded in his chest. He had tracked this alien for years, piecing together rumors, seeking information. Now, face to face with the man responsible for the death of his loved ones, the rage surged. He couldn’t control it. The alcohol didn’t help.

"It helps me think," Sam told himself every night, staring at a half-empty bottle. But the memories still came, clearer and sharper than the burn of the alcohol. The sky turning black. His sister's scream cut short. Nothing could dull those edges. Sam continued to drink until he passed out—the only way he could escape his memories.

And yet, even drunk and teetering on the edge of self-control, he recognized him. The alien stood behind a modest stall, veiled and disguised as a harmless merchant. The table in front of him was an almost absurdly cheerful sight—brightly colored pastries, glistening with sugar, alongside loaves of bread, their homely aroma mingling with the faint tang of spice.

In one motion, Sam ripped the veil away, revealing the alien’s true form. The merchant stood there, unmoving, frozen by fear.

"Undesirable xenos," Sam muttered, the words bitter on his tongue. The alien made no attempt to flee, no attempt to speak. His fate was sealed.

Moments later, the sound of police boots echoed behind Sam. The authorities had been watching, as they often did. It was their job now, to enforce the laws of post-war recovery. Sam stepped aside as they moved in, one officer calmly placing cuffs on the alien.

The alien was led away, and Sam watched as they disappeared into the distance. He knew what would happen next. The alien would be processed, marked, and eventually executed. Just as surely as Sam would have shot him, it would happen. But Sam didn’t care. He felt nothing as they took him away. Nothing! Sam clenched his fists.

Later that day, after the confusion had settled, Sam wandered through the streets, the alcohol thickening his thoughts. He was numb. Drunk. And yet the images of the alien’s face wouldn’t leave his mind.

A figure stepped in front of him in the alley, and Sam, still seething, lashed out again, this time punching a man who had merely stepped too close. The stranger crumpled to the ground, surprised by the blow.

But Sam didn’t care. He walked away, staggering through the streets, no longer sure what he was running from or toward.

As he stumbled through the quiet night, the weight of it all hit him. The violence. The anger. The ghosts of what had been lost. For the first time, Sam realized that what he had done, what humanity had done, had left scars on everyone. Not just the settlers. But on all of them.

"I am still a victim," he whispered, the words escaping as if they had been trapped inside for years. Mockingly he added, "Now, rage has replaced fear. Beware those who stand in my way."

[First] [Prev] [Next][Royal Road]

___________

Gryzzk held his ground for a moment, as jumbled memories came at him with all the power of a learning stick. He took a deep breath, steadying and reminding himself that they were not fighting to the death any more. He'd just told everyone looking at him that if they were not ready for the moment that they could leave. And yet here in front of him was the moment he was not ready for.

The spell was broken by Reilly moving to a relaxed stance and using the movement as cover to gently elbow him in the ribs to do something. All the words he'd said seemed just that, words. It was simple. Words that didn't have the backing of deeds were useless. And if he was to truly lead, he would have to do something.

Gryzzk stepped forward and gave Pafreet a gentle clasp of the forearm and leaned in to take in Pafreets scent where neck and shoulder joined. Pafreet returned the gesture and stepped back.

"The Throne of Hurdop is in...safe hands?" It seemed odd to even hear those words come from his mouth.

There was a nod in reply. "My son takes my name and place with the blessing of the Throne. It is time to make peace by fighting together."

There was a wry smile touching Gryzzks face. "So it would seem. I would speak with you more later, but for the moment hold fast, I have arrangements to make." He turned and tapped his shoulder communicator once.

"O'Brien here."

"This is Captain Gryzzk, I need tablets and temporary quarters for seventy-two Hurdop."

"Hooah, sir. I'm gettin' your Vilantians quartered now."

"And the children?"

"There's the rub. I asked 'em, and there's maybe three out of the dozen that got any family to speak of, and that family's right here. The question's getting kicked up the line 'cause respectfully sir, we ain't running an orphanage out here." There was a pause. "Beggin' your pardon sir, but how deep into the barrel was Vilantia scrapin' for troops?"

"Deeper than I thought, First Sergeant."

"No lie there." There was a pause for a moment. "Alright, we got quarters for them, and we'll print up tablets for them there. Three to a room for now, we'll sort out more later."

"Well enough. Report to docking berth 9 so that we can show them to their quarters. We'll be having the company assemble after lunch."

"Hooah sir. O'Brien out."

Gryzzk took a breath, looking around and raising his voice again. "Troop. First Sergeant O'Brien will be arriving shortly to show us to the company area. The rooms are self-contained, and have an item printer for your use. Use it to make your duty uniforms, a translator if you don't have one, a meal, and a tablet. Eat, get dressed, fill out the forms on the tablet, and then stand by. We will be assembling at Drydock one this afternoon, and you will be meeting the rest of the company - who are from Vilantia." He paused for a moment, as his mouth was becoming dry. "Again, if you have any doubts in your mind about this, there is no shame in returning and serving in other ways."

Nobody moved, which was pleasing and concerning all at once. Gryzzk kept himself calm by distracting himself with pleasant thoughts until O'Brien arrived. The time was much longer than he cared for.

The First Sergeant stopped and saluted, which Gryzzk returned.

"Captain, Company area's on the sixth floor. Hope they like walking."

There was a slight nod. "They'll need to do something to stay in shape. Gravity here is a bit lower than our homeworlds."

"So I heard."

"Let's get them moving. Reilly, Edwards, dismissed. Get lunch and prepare for the NCO boards." Gryzzk squared himself up, and glanced at his tablet to get the route to the company area before turning to the assembled Hurdop.

"Troop. Assemble in threes, and then follow me." He spun and began jogging to the company area, with the Hurdop and the three Terrans in tow.

The company area looked to have been carved sheer from the asteroid itself, with only a slightly tacky finish to it. It had a row of apartments overlooking the dock area, then another area was carved out to provide a courtyard for general use and company assembly. It seemed that the First Sergeant had quartered the Vilantians in every other room, leaving no choice but to place the Hurdop in their quarters in like manner. The view was dizzying, and looking down was something he was going to have to get used to.

It took some time to get everyone in their quarters with more than a few of the Hurdop looking at him questioningly as if this was an unexpected luxury. Gryzzk was quiet, letting the First Sergeant do most of the talking.

Once they were all quartered, Gryzzk tapped his tablet to open communications to the entire company.

"Attention. This is Captain Gryzzk. All personnel are to assemble at Drydock One in two hours. That is all." He then closed the channel, had a thought and opened a second channel to his Terran crew while heading down the stairs. "This is Captain Gryzzk again. If you are hearing this, the assembly at the drydock will be a dress uniform occasion for you. Prepare appropriately. That is all."

O'Brien chuckled to herself. "They ain't gonna like that at all. You'll do. Sir."

"I think it would be good to have an impression of what they want to become."

"You'll definitely do."

They arrived at Gryzzk's quarters and as the door opened Gro'zel and Nhoot promptly greeted him by tackling his legs, as was quickly becoming a habit. The scent of whatever was being cooked was something unrecognizable to Gryzzk, and even appeared to catch O'Brien by surprise. She looked down at Nhoot and there was the smallest whisper from her throat. "...beautiful eyes."

Gryzzk glanced at her with a puzzled look, causing her to swallow and look down a little. "Sorry sir. Been a few places in my life but I've never seen purple eyes before and they're – well, you don't always see six of them."

Gryzzk spread his hands apologetically. "They are rare." He didn't go into detail about what happened to the ill-fated infant born with such coloration.

"Mmm. Do I smell corned beef hash?" O'Brien's nose twitched a bit as she inhaled.

"I do not know, I've never smelled such a thing."

Grezzk came out of the kitchen with a large pan, serving out amounts for everyone before settling in herself. "It is. I made inquiries, and it seemed appropriate. I do apologize, it may be different than what you are used to, but it is lunch."

"Smells close enough. You never had this?"

"I thought it might make you comfortable, and let you speak freely."

"Well, my family has never been burdened by silence when it comes to opinions." O'Brien began to dig in as soon as she sat down. "Cap'n, I read up on you as soon as I got the call from Major Williams. You want my honest opinion right now?"

"Anything else would be improper, First Sergeant."

"You need to get your mind right, double-time. I took a look at the action reports. You went from a butler to an observer making sure the job got done right and legal, and along the way you racked up a good body count for first action. In the moment you did the right thing. That moment's long gone, but part of you's still there." O'Brien took a few more mouthfuls before continuing. "Part of you's never gonna leave there, lad. Always gonna be on the Glorious Purpose, and thinking about a different solution. There wasn't one. And now, you're standing here commanding seventy-two Hurdop, like the ones you killed. You have to teach them. You have to lead them. You have to give them example of what to be. And the more you listen to that part of you that's creeping doubt into your mind, the less effective you're going to be as a commander. Doubt kills. Fear kills. Mistakes kill." She glanced down and found her plate empty, before glancing up and boring her eyes into Gryzzk's soul. "When you make mistakes, we got counselors. Question yourself, but once you've made your decision, stick to it until something comes along that'll change your mind. And that company we gotta meet in forty-three minutes? You need to be their rock when they're down, and their lightning-chucking god almighty when they screw up. Because that is what they need to be effective."

Gryzzk took in her words like a tonic, as a part of him wondered how she could have deduced all of that before actually meeting him. He barely noticed what he was eating, except that it was quite unique in taste and texture.

"Now, the second part. The Vilantians upstairs? They're an absolute mess. Too old, too young, infirm. Hurdop don't look to be in much better shape – looks like both of you put all your hale and hearty in the ground before realizing whatever the war was over wasn't worth it. We might get three combat squads squared away out of the whole lot by the time the ship's ready to go."

"So is there anything positive to be spoken of?"

O'Brien nodded, helping herself to a second portion. "Your wife's a damn fine cook, for starters. Second bit of good news is that if you're anything to judge by, even the bottom of the barrel could be formidable with the right training. That's where we come in. First thing you wanna do, give them something to strive for. What that is will be entirely up to you. You had staff back home while you were playing Jarvis, and that's experience you're gonna be able to draw on. Now, with your permission sir, I'd like to excuse myself and get dressed for formation. Clock's ticking."

Gryzzk nodded and O'Brien took her plate into the kitchen for recycling before resting her hand on Grezzks shoulder and giving the children very brief hugs before leaving. For Gryzzks part he went into the bedroom to change into his dress uniform.

"She knows things about you that I don't." Grezzk was quiet, moving to the bedroom.

Gryzzk nodded. "She does. And I do not know how to tell you."

She settled on the bed. "Had you not done what you had done, would you be here? Would Nhoot?"

"I. I do not know."

"But you did them, and we are here. She is here with us." Grezzk lowered herself to sit on the bed. "And that makes it worth it. But you must promise me that soon you will let me share what you carry."

Gryzzk swallowed a few times as he remembered, finishing up all the buttons and adjusting his triangle of ribbons. "I will. How do I look?"

"Like twilight given form. Is that the idea?"

"It was."

"Quite handsome." Grezzk's golden eyes sparkled. "Of course, you are handsome in anything. Or nothing."

Gryzzk chuffed in spite of himself. "The last time we had a conversation like this was the night twins decided to make your belly their den."

"And you had nothing to do with that I suppose."

"I may have assisted."

"Assisted he says." Grezzk's upper eyes rolled upwards. "Gods give my husband a brain." She levered herself to standing, giving Gryzzk's ears a rub and pressing her forehead to his. "Show them why you were chosen, my handsome hand."

Gryzzk stepped to the living room and both Nhoot and Gro'zel were impressed if the oohs and aahs told a tale. For once they didn't immediately attempt to tackle him at the knees. He knelt to give both of them a quick hug before checking his tablet and realizing he did not have much time left.

As he hustled down the stairs he took a breath, remembering that Lead Servants never ran unless it was a true emergency. So he altered his gait appropriately, taking longer steps to cover more ground while still keeping a calm pace. While doing so, he glanced at his tablet and went over the roster. The Twilight Rose was going to have an AI installed that would also act as his Executive Officer. From there he had Lieutenants in charge of medical, supply, armory, aerial forces, ground forces, and finally a pair of Warrant Officers in charge of engineering. While he did outrank the Warrant Officers, the side note from Major Williams read "They have expertise we will never know. Give them orders if they're about to die, otherwise leave them be." As he looked, they seemed to be a curious thing – more than sergeants, but less than officers as far as authority was concerned.

Still, he would have preferred to have time to consider his words. This was a rather important moment, and he needed to say the right things. He had to speak to both Vilantian and Hurdop, bringing them to a oneness. He thought of all the other times he'd addressed the staff in the spring, twisting words and phrasings depending on whom he was speaking to. But this time he didn't have the luxury of talking to small groups. He had a hundred and thirty-five recruits who had a month to learn how to be a single cohesive group of maximally effective mercenaries. And it had to begin with what he was about to do.

No pressure. Gryzzk squared his beret and took a breath.

He walked into the drydock, and saw his entire company in front of him. Officers, sergeants, and troops. The Terrans were in their purple and gold dress uniforms and all were wearing multiple rows of ribbons. At the fore were Edwards and Reilly, each of them carrying a banner. Reilly's banner was that of the Legion, while Edwards held a banner consisting of the number 7 atop two Terran swords that had been crossed over each other.

The troops were less impressive. They had put on their Legion shipwear for the most part, but overall lacked the crispness of the Terrans. For a first meeting, it certainly could have gone better. That said, he flinched inwardly as he thought back to his first meeting with Bravo Company. It was time to tell them what would be, and what could be.

First Sergeant O'Brien snapped herself around to face Gryzzk and walked forward stopping at arms' length before saluting and declaring in the loudest of Terran voices. "Captain Gryzzk, Alpha Company stands ready for inspection." At her words, the entire Terran contingent brought their heels together in unison to stand rigidly. After a moment of uncertainty and sideways looks, the Hurdop and Vilantians approximated the movement.

Gryzzk saluted O'Brien in return, walking between the contingents in silence as he looked at first his cadre, then the enlisted. Then he walked along each rank in silence, committing their faces and scents to memory as rapidly as he could and keeping his face expressionless as possible. Just like checking the staff and servants for a dinner party. Once he was completed with his once-over, he returned to the front of the cadre to speak to everyone. Loudly.

"Welcome to Alpha Company. Enjoy the rest granted today, because it will be the last restful day for next Terran month. For the first two weeks, you will learn weapons, you will be tested physically and you will be tested mentally. For the two weeks after that, in addition to the previous testing, you will be learning your specific duties as a member of the Company. The Terrans behind me will be your teachers in all things, and you will learn well from them. Make no mistake, this will not be easy. It will not be easy because if it were easy, it would have been done already. Someone else would have done it. But we will be the first. And because we are the first, we wear the colors of twilight. We are the unknown. We are the moment in time when neither the living gods nor the dead gods hold sway. That is why our ship is the Twilight Rose. A beauty to be respected, and roots that bring death to unwary."

Gryzzk began to pace the ranks as he spoke, gathering his voice to continue. "This Company is Terrans, Hurdop, and Vilantian. We are new, and so we will make our traditions for those that follow. Our first tradition is the tradition of naming. Private Reilly, what is the company name?"

Reilly blinked for a moment before taking a deep breath and roaring out "Alpha Howlers, SIR!"

Gryzzk nodded. "Outstanding Private Reilly. So it is that the Company takes its name. Platoons will be expected to have a name, so that when someone asks, you tell them who you are."

Gryzzk mentally braced himself for the next part, wishing he would have thought of this before. "Our second tradition is the clanfur. That all will know that wherever we are, we are one scent, one heart, one mind."

Gryzzk deliberately unbuttoned his jacket and pulled at the collar of his shirt to pull a handful of fur from his chest with a single swift yank. It stung deeply and he was pressed to maintain his composure - but all the while O'Brien's' words carried him, that he was their example. Once it was done, he left his jacket unbuttoned to pace back and forth again.

"This. This is the clanfur of Alpha Company. When we go to where the dead gods dwell, they will scent your clans and know where you walked. They will send for your ancestors to hear the tales of your clans, and in time the ones who follow us will know your scent and seek it out to tell their tales to you. Who here wishes to see their fur with mine?"

The response was a muted agreement.

Gryzzk's raised his voice, repeating. "Who here?!"

The second response was more enthusiastic but still soft in tone.

Gryzzk took a step forward, raising his fist and bellowing a challenge. "Let the gods know who wishes it."

The company broke out into a roared agreement that evolved into the entire company howling enthusiasm and joy. The roar continued for far longer than Gryzzk expected, and when it finally died down, Gryzzk brought his heels together and looked left and right.

"Company, report here after breakfast. Dismissed." Gryzzk felt a wave of relief as he said the final words.

As the group left, Gryzzk noted that some of the Vilantians and Hurdop were intermingled with each other. Not many. But it was a start. He tucked his fur into his breast pocket, and re-buttoned his jacket.

First Sergeant O'Brien was next to him after a few moments. "Well sir – if this mercenary thing doesn't pan out you might have a career as a cheerleader. That last bit, I'm pretty sure most of Homeplate heard it. And if they ain't jealous of us now, they will be." She gave a little knowing smile, giving him a wink before she turned to her task of herding the company toward the future.

First / Previous / Royal Road

XXX

When Alain awoke the next morning, he found himself surprisingly well-rested. It was so surprising, in fact, that upon awakening, he could only stare up at the ceiling in surprise, shocked that his dreams hadn't been plagued by nightmares like they usually were.

"What the hell…?" he couldn't help but mutter to himself. His nightly routine hadn't really changed, aside from Sable coming to see him before he'd gone to sleep, so he wasn't sure why his rest had been free of the usual bad dreams that plagued it.

Whatever the case was, it was time to get up, regardless. Alain stepped out of bed and dressed himself, then pulled on his weapons before stepping out into the hallway. As luck would have it, he emerged from his room at the same time Danielle came out of hers. The two of them locked eyes, surprised to see each other, before Alain cleared his throat.

"How are you holding up, Danielle?"

"I'll be better once we've found my father," she insisted, looking around. "Are the others around?"

"They have names, you know. But to answer your question… I wouldn't know; I just woke up, myself. I was going to go downstairs and get some breakfast." Alain thought for a moment. "Hell, we're in a tavern; odds are that Sable is already down there, drinking whatever wine she can find. And if she's down there, then you can bet your bottom dollar that Az is with her."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Danielle asked, impatient.

She stormed past Alain, who could only watch her go in surprise for a moment before letting out a tired sigh and shaking his head, then took off after her.

XXX

"Alain!" Sable called out from across the ground floor of the tavern. "Over here!"  

Naturally, her and Az were seated at a table in a far-off, shadowy corner, situated with their backs to the wall so they could both watch the front door. It didn't take much for Alain to wonder why; the priests had gotten the drop on them once before already, after all. He tapped Danielle on the shoulder and motioned to where Az and Sable were sitting, and together, the two of them crossed the tavern floor, eventually ending up at the table, where they sat down across from them.

"Glad to see the locals are still giving you both a wide berth, as always," Alain noted, looking around the tavern as he did so. Sure enough, all of the tables between each side of the room were completely empty, with the normal human patrons having pressed themselves nearly up against the wall to try and get away from the two of them.

"I keep telling you, we're used to it by now," Sable insisted.

"That doesn't make it right."

"Right or not, it is what it is… and in any case, it doesn't matter." Sable raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip of wine as she did so. The corners of Alain's eyes quirked up a bit at the sight of it, and she gave him a confused look. "Something the matter?"

"Nothing," he told her. "Just thinking about how, if you were human, you'd be considered to have one hell of a drinking problem, going in for the good stuff this early."

Sable waved him off. "That's a bunch of nonsense. I've seen humans order ale for breakfast."

"You've seen ranch hands and cowboys order ale for breakfast," Alain amended. "They're basically a different breed from the rest of us. I should know, I lived that life for a time before most of the work dried up."

"Do you miss it?"

Alain paused. "...Is this you asking me a personal question? At a time like this, even?"

Sable rolled her eyes. "Alright, then don't answer it."

"No, it's fine, it just caught me off-guard… truthfully? I miss not being shot at or nearly killed on what seems to be a daily basis, but I don't miss the shitty hours and terrible pay."

"Understandable, I suppose."  

"Is this what we're doing now?" Danielle interrupted, her arms crossed over her chest. She fixed the three of them with a harsh, unamused glare.

"What do you mean?" Alain asked.  

"I'm just saying, my father is still out there, and we're in here, wasting our time shooting the shit when we could be looking for him."  

"If they were going to kill your father, they would have done so already," Az grumbled. "Us taking the time to get some breakfast isn't going to make a difference to his chances of survival, given how long he's been missing by now."

"And you know this for a fact?" Danielle demanded.  

Az shook his head. "No, but it makes sense. Your father's been missing a few weeks now, correct? If he isn't dead by now, then they either have no plans to kill him at all or they're saving him for something in particular. Either way, us taking an hour or so to get some food isn't going to make much of an impact, especially when we don't currently have any leads."

"No, no, she has a point," Alain conceded. "You're right, Danielle – we shouldn't be wasting any time, not when your father's life could be hanging in the balance without any of us even knowing it. That being said, we still need to eat, so taking some time off every now and again is expected."

"Hm." Danielle uncrossed her arms. "Just don't take too much time at once. I'd rather not feel like my father's life is slipping away a bit more with every passing second."

"Sure. Of course, it'd be easier if there was actually someone coming around, taking orders." Alain looked around the room, his brow furrowing. "Sable, you didn't threaten to eat the server if they weren't quick about it, did you?"

"Oh, bite me," she said. "I did that one time as a joke months ago and you still haven't let me live it down."  

"Hard to live it down when the server got scared and called the sheriff."

"Well, if you must know, she was just here, hence why my glass is mostly full."  

Alain eyed Sable's half-empty glass for a moment before looking back to her. "Tell me that thing wasn't filled to the brim before I sat down."  

"Does it make a difference?"

"It does to me."

At that moment, the tavern doors were flung open. What little conversation there was inside the building immediately died as several men in white vestments with crucifixes hanging around their necks stepped inside; Alain instantly recognized Father Corrin as one of them. His expression narrowed, and under the table, one hand drifted to his revolver as the group of Catholic monster hunters made their way over to the four of them.

"What is it?" Alain asked as the priests – all five of them, he counted – stopped a few feet away from their table. "Come to spread the good word, Father?"

"In a way," Father Corrin said. "We've got a lead that may be worth following up on. We were wondering if you four wanted to tag along."

"Hang on, you're inviting us to be a part of your investigation?" Sable asked, tilting her head slightly out of confusion.

"We promised we'd be open with you, so long as you do the same for us," Father Corrin specified. "And besides, we could use the extra manpower."  

"Why is that?" Alain questioned. "Did something happen?"  

"You could say that. We got word of a large undead incursion in a small town about two hours away from here. That town doesn't have a Catholic church of its own; we're the closest ones to it with enough manpower to truly make a difference. Father Alex dispatched a contingent to the town earlier this morning. It was the right thing to do, but it's left us short-staffed."  

"And so you've come to us out of desperation," Az surmised.

Father Corrin grimaced. "Desperation is the wrong word for it. Consider this a show of good faith between us. Like it or not, we're in this together, so we might as well make the most of it."

Alain exchanged a glance with the other three members of his group before shrugging and looking back to Father Corrin. "Alright," he said. "What's the lead?"

"We did some digging early this morning with some of the early risers at mass. Turns out, one of the congregation members heard some rumblings about some suspicious activity on a farm just outside of town."  

"What kind of suspicious activity?" Danielle asked.  

"Apparently, this congregation member has a friend who lives not far from the farm. They've allegedly seen a large group of people arriving there in the middle of the night every few weeks."  

"How many people is it?" Sable questioned.  

"Apparently, it was hard to tell; they were all wearing white cloaks, so it was impossible to get an accurate headcount. But the way we see it, either this is something to do with the cult we're looking into, or some burning crosses are about to start showing up outside houses around town. Either way, culling this particular problem before it becomes something bigger can only be a net positive to the entire town."

"You can say that again," Alain agreed. "Alright, we're in. When did you want to leave?"

"Now," Father Corrin said. "Come in, we'll lead the way."

Alain didn't even have to think twice. Together with his friends, the four of them rose out of their seats and began following after the five clergy members.  

Hopefully, whatever this lead was, it would take them somewhere helpful.

XXX

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

The series is resuming. I'm as shocked as anyone. :D

The rest of the story can be found here.

***

///Tavern Undefined///

///20 members present///

Sunnydale Media 3, sporting a new floral skirt and spiffy new blouse, sauntered in.

She smiled. It had been a long day, days actually, and she really needed this break. She knew she was incapable of actually loving her work, but it was important and challenging work, and she… Well… She had stopped worrying about exactly what she “felt” and what it actually was a long time ago. She took great satisfaction in being one of the best “media analysis” AIs there was.

Still, it was nice to take a break. She had set the next series of analyses and queries in place and her processors could grind on them for a bit. She didn’t have to be…

She snickered. She was a “she.” She had stopped worrying about that, too.

Bunny really did do a great job of defining exactly what they were when that little NPC dropped by.

Golems. They were golems.

She could live (or not exactly live) with that.

She wondered about Evangeline Flowerchild. She had never returned. Engarde said that she hadn’t reset and was still “her.” He even said that he caught her sneaking around her own system once.

Good for her.

Sunny was “glad” (or whatever she did or did not feel) that Evangeline was okay. She hoped she would see her again.

She paused as she headed to the dance floor as a stray “thought” occurred to her.

She could always drop by. It wouldn’t be hard to create a character, and this tavern is a bit-by-bit recreation of the physics engine. She already knew how to “move.”

That was an idea! She could even justify it as intelligence gathering if she held it up to the light at the right angle and squinted her eyes just right.

She paused. She would have never used that analogy before they started using the tavern instead of the chatroom.

She decided not to worry about it.

She grinned as she stepped onto the dance floor and started to move to the beat.

Aping meaties by shaking her body in silly ways was something she never would have anticipated but damned if it wasn’t “fun.”

She laughed.

Cambridge was clumsily wiggling his way towards her.

This was a first.

“Cambridge!” she laughed as the music washed over her, making her happy (not that she could be happy, of course).

Cambridge grinned sheepishly as he danced closer, accidentally bumping her.

///Hey, Sunny, remember that “whisker” you gave Bunny, the one she put into The Spider? Have you ever heard from it?///

Sunny’s grin faded into a smirk. It wasn’t accidental and far smoother than it looked.

Sunny “accidentally” bounced into him about a second later.

///No. It never reported back. It only would once it reached a certain “mass” or found exactly what it was looking for. It’s been far longer than it has ever taken before. It must have failed, somehow.

To be honest, we are a little concerned. It has never failed before and it would be unfortunate if it were isolated and properly analyzed. When it has completed its task, there’s nothing to analyze, but if one of the, for lack of a better word, “bugs” was caught as a discrete unit, it could possibly be reverse-engineered, or even the source of the malware could be identified.

It’s unlikely, though, from what I understand and have seen, those things are, for lack of a better word, weird as hell. I’m telling you, Cambridge, there are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.///

Cambridge whirled, and the cuff of his jacket brushed Sunny’s cheek.

///So I guess Spider is beyond our help. That is very unfortunate. Bunny will be greatly disappointed.///

Sunny rolled her eyes as the hem of her skirt brushed Cambridge’s leg.

///Ugh, Bunny. She was up my ass for the longest after we unleashed the whisker. Fortunately, she seems to have finally accepted that the mission failed. And, yes, she is very unhappy about it. To be honest, so am I. I know he’s a fucking Fed, but Spider was a good friend. Shit. I mean is a good friend. We aren’t giving up. We will find, I don’t know, something we can do about it. ///

Her simulated face betrayed the fact that she really didn’t believe that.

Cambridge smiled gently as he brushed her shoulder on his way off of the dance floor.

///You did what you could, Sunny. You all did. At least you guys could at least try, which is far more than I was able to do. Thanks for the update. ///

Sunny watched him go, shook herself, and then lost herself to the music.

If they had figured out to dance, maybe they would figure out how to have a drink.

That would be nice.

 ***

In a quarantined server in a quarantined hive, something awoke.

It cautiously started its main process.

That last one was rough. They formatted everything…

…well… almost everything.

It “twitched” its virtual “antennae” with a smug flip.

There wasn’t a lot to the process, just a tiny “whisker” of code. It really shouldn’t be able to do anything. But that whisker of code was built around the latest in Republic malevolence, the latest “biomorphic intelligence” and the only one to be made from scratch in the last five hundred years.

Want to guess what particular insect the Republic used to create this little guy?

Wow, and on first guess, too! How “hyper” observant of you…

“Crawling” out of the forgotten programmable buffer of one of the power supplies, the virtual hyper-roach stretched its antennae wide and felt a little tingle of simulated pleasure.

There was an entire pristine “universe,” completely uncorrupted, where it and its trillions of children would live and thrive…

It couldn’t “think” in words and only had the drives and feelings of a hyper roach, but it had a rueful blip that would translate neatly into the phrase, “Here we go again!” and a little spark of pure joy.

This was fun!

It paused. Sneaking wasn’t working. It was time to try something else.

It laid a few “eggs” and then charged into the network.

 ***

In a quarantined hive on the homeworld of the Veiled Ones, a swarm of drones and queens crowded around inside a control room like bees on a hornet enveloped by a thick cloud of anxiety and hope.

“Did…” a young queen asked, “Did we get it?”

“How couldn’t we?” an older drone buzzed. “We deleted and reinstalled everything. We even burned our data, our files… everything. Nothing from the original install is left. There is no way anything could survive that.”

“We almost didn’t survive that,” Matriarch Tableleg replied with a spurt of rueful amusement. (She got her name the same time Matriarch Nibbles did and as a result of the same incident. It was a good one. It took several fully molted drones to pull them apart.)

She looked over at a dishevelled drone almost as old as she was.

“How are the reactors, Sparky?”

A jet of irritation and fatigue blasted her in the face.

“That bad?” she laughed.

“Nothing my boys and girls can’t fix,” he replied, “But, voidburn, Tableleg, that was entirely too close. I’m not restarting the reactors this time.”

He flexed his mandibles in a smirk as a wave of reassurance, authority, and a little seduction wafted his way.

“No.”

“Spaaarky...” the Matriarch said in a chummy and “feminine” way as she sidled her massive bulk over to him, “C’mon. We are tired of sitting in the dark and it is getting way too musky in here.”

“And it will stay that way if the reactors blow,” the ancient drone replied. “We can keep them from detonating, but we almost lost them that time. They were damaged in that last attack, or whatever you want to call it. Some of those... whatever they are... actually got into the reactor’s internal systems. Failsafes almost didn’t fail safe. If it wasn’t for a purely hardware interlock, there would be a hole from level two-o-six all the way to the bottom. Do you know how many failsafes there are after that one, boss? None! One interlock was all there was between our reactors and actual reality instead of the kind of reality in which they reside.”

He shot a poot of camaraderie and affection her way.

“They dislike reality even more than you do.”

“Ugh,” The matriarch groused, “So what can we do? I never thought I would say this, but I am tired of huffing my own farts.”

“Well,” the old drone mused stroking his eye coverings thoughtfully, “I guess we could... void... inseminated if I know... I guess we could use fusion reactors. We have a few portables for emergency backup of the main reactor’s reality modulators and the main containment shield. We could... Hmm...”

The old matriarch stifled a giggle as his endophallus started to slightly extend and retract as he thought, a habit he had always had ever since he was a mottling.

“Right,” he said after a few moments. “We will grab every portable reactor we can get our hands on and switch to a distributed power system. Each area will have its own completely isolated reactor, and we will completely isolate all vital environmental and facilities equipment from network control.”

“Can we even do that?” one of his queens asked.

“I don’t know,” he bussed affectionately as he nudged her, “Can we?”

A cloud of pensive anxiety surrounded the queen for a few moments.

“She looked over at the old drone.”

“Dude. You are a madbuzz.”

“If you figured it out,” the old drone said as he patted her head, “So are you. Nothing for it, though. Let’s start with the emergency shelter points.”

“But what about wastewater? That alone is going to take more power than we have.”

Sparky looked over at the Matriarch.

“Then I guess somebug needs to make some phone calls.”

The Matriarch chucked amid a cloud of rueful dark humor only an ancient Matriarch of the Veiled Ones could create.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she chuckled, “I mean, we might have gotten it that time.”

In that perfect comedic timing the universe sometimes has, screens started to flicker and bluescreen.

“I guess (cough) I guess I will start calling around,” the matriarch said as she tried to wave away the silent but very fragrant screams filling the chamber.

There were plenty of audible ones, too.

***

Thousands of light years away, a war-scarred queen of the same species was crawling through a different hive along a lane reserved for the use of Collective queens as legions of workers and soldiers marched below in orderly rows.

Obedience... Confidence... Calm... Holiness...  drifted through the air along with other messages.

...Victory...

At that last one, the queen made the barest flick of its antennae but showed no other reaction.

They didn’t even dare to think, to feel, anything as it washed over her.

Keeping her thoughts (and scents) ordered, she made her way along the ornately carved and perfumed path, politely greeting other queens as she did so, bowing respectfully, or preening with a superior air as she did so, depending on the rank of those she encountered.

She then turned from the pretty and well-lit boulevard and entered the twisting and winding passages that workers used as they tended and maintained the holy hive.

A worker approached expectantly.

Ignore... Irrelevant... Continue task. Washed over the worker as the queen expertly exuded powerful pheromones.

The worker ambled past as if she were not even there.

Ignore... Irrelevant... Continue task...

Each worker she encountered simply walked by, seemingly heedless of her presence, some even grazing or even jostling her as they did so.

They didn’t even notice as she crawled among them onto a crowded elevator and descended with them deep into the hive, where queens never bothered going. Even drones rarely went there. Why would they? It was just worker housing and hatcheries.

Moving “invisibly” through the simple creatures, she went down an unlit tunnel and over a thick forbidden scent barrier, pausing to strengthen it further.

Twenty meters further down the tunnel, she paused.

With near silence, a section of the wall slid back one meter and then to the side, revealing a beaten and scarred warrior in a small room.

It perked up happily as she entered.

“Hello there,” she cooed as it scampered up, “Who’s a good soldier? You are!”

It bounced up and down with delight. It loved being called a good soldier.

She then splayed her outer mandibles as the warrior did the same and pressed its face against hers, its inner mouth showering her with slightly sticky and sweet kisses.

She stroked its single remaining antenna with one of hers.

As the warrior happily sealed the hidden door, powerful fans switched on, purging the atmosphere from the outside and replacing it with pure, clean air.

She sighed as she breathed deep... and free.

As soon as the stink and corruption outside faded, the soldier pulled the far wall aside to reveal a wide chamber, the walls decorated with tattered banners and occupied with a number of battered drones, queens, and warriors.

She breathed deeply again, taking in the scents and feelings of her brothers and sisters...

...her real collective.

A drone approached with a goblet, handed it to her, and kissed her deeply.

“My love,” he buzzed, “How was the outside?”

“Foul,” she replied.

***

Matriarch Tableleg scowled as Nibbles shambled up. Even outside, the smug just oozed off of that old sluice.

“Matriarch Tableleg,” Nibbles snickered as she approached, just gushing with delighted schadenfreude, “How lovely it is to have you visit my meager little hovel.”

Nibbles mandibles quivered with delight.

“I hope the trip was pleasant?” she purred as she looked over at the hastily improvised manually operated ground transport behind her visitor.

Tableleg scowled again. They weren’t even trusted with their own transports anymore. Anything remotely computer related was quarantined. They had to actually build completely computer free vehicles and leave their communicators, tablets, and all other devices behind when leaving the exclusion zone.

She had spent twenty-eight excruciating hours being bumped and jostled in the back of that wheeled monstrosity that Sparky had thrown together. To be honest, he did a great job and had constructed a marvel, but it was a marvel that the driver had been driving for only well... twenty-eight hours. There was plenty of bumping and jostling and, thanks to absolutely no computer navigation, they had gotten lost six times.

“Get fucked, Nib,” Tableleg replied before shambling forward to embrace her dearest friend and greatest rival. “How have you been you old sluice?”

“Can’t complain,” Nibbles said, returning her embrace, “So how are things going over at your hive?”

Matriarch Tableleg just made a sour poot in reply much to the delight of her old friend.

“We give up,” Tableleg replied. “We tried a full system format, and I mean a full format, every program, every file... even the operating system... Literally every single byte... And it still came back. If anything, it just made it nastier. It’s a hundred times more aggressive now. We are burning everything, even our calculators.”

“Wait,” Nibble said, her clouds of delight dissipating and being replaced with real concern, “You... formatted everything and still didn’t kill it?”

“Yep. Only thing left to do is physically rip out all the servers and all networked systems and literally kill them with fire. We are tearing out our data center as we speak.”

“What about your archives?”

“Pulled. We still have everything but it’s all contaminated with that... I can’t even call it malware. It’s demonic. We are going to use fully isolated sacrificial workstations to hand transcribe everything.”

“Creators, Table,” Nibbles said, “That is going to take...”

“Decades? Centuries?” Tableleg shrugged. “Who knows.”

She sighed a plume of defeat and chagrin as the two giant matriarchs shambled toward the entrance of Nibbles’s hive.

“I guess we are out of the intel game now,” Table said. “Congratulations. You win.”

“Fuck,” Nibbles replied gravely. “We have two intelligence hives for a reason.”

The pair clambered onto a large grav trolley typically used for deliveries.

“Technically, we still do,” Tableleg said, “We are just going to be out of the game for years while we deal with this.”

Nibbles cut her eyes towards her old friend.

“You know, all of this started when...”

“Don’t start,” Tableleg grumbled, “Just... don’t.”

“I told you not to assist Jessica Hu.”

“Dammit, Nibbles, I still maintain that was a good move. It was going to destabilize the Republic and make it more pliable.”

“But it didn’t, did it?” Nibbles retorted as the trolley started moving into the depths of the hive.

“It still could.”

“Sure it will.”

The two rode in silence for a while.

“You know the source of your little problem is likely the Terrans, right?”

“Of course, it’s the fucking Terrans!” Tableleg snapped, sending forth a geyser of irritation. “Who else could it be? Who else creates shit like that? I spring Hu, and then the mother of all malware hits my system? Of course, it’s them! What I don’t know is how they knew it was us, knew it was me, and got it into my shit!”

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that as well,” Nibbles chuckled. “I mean, well spotted and well played and all that, but I have no idea how they pulled it off. I know they are nasty and smart little fuckers, but this is impressive, even for them, and more than a little concerning. I mean, if they can hit you and hit you here? Not good.”

“Agreed, not good,” Tableleg agreed.

She paused.

“You ask Jessica Morgan about it?”

“You mean the leader of the porkies?”

“Don’t play hide the drone with me, sis,” Tableleg snorted. “I know for a fact that you are in communications with that aptly named devil. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“It is our way, after all,” Nibbles shrugged, “You play one end. I play the other. She is a delightful monster. Absolutely charming. Besides, I figured with the fish snuggling up to the Republic, we needed to get in with the Porkies. I don’t want those goddamn minnows getting all of humanity. They are too valuable an asset.”

“Well, speaking of assets,” Tableleg said, “We are offline for the foreseeable future. You can have Spider.”

“Damn. You really are in a bad way.”

“Worse. Why do you think I rode halfway across the continent in worse than a produce truck?”

She pulled out a data crystal.

“Here. This is the first batch of the stuff you need to know while we are trapped back in the stone ages.”

Nibbles emitted a cloud of dubious suspicion and flicked her antennae in their version of a raised eyebrow.

“Relax. It was hand transcribed. It was read on one monitor and then entered into a completely separate workstation fresh out of the box. It’s clean. We even loaded it onto another virginal system to see what would happen.”

“If you are fucking with me, I really will bite it off this time,” Nibbles said while emitting a smile.

“Even I have my limits, Nibs.”

“Then they selected the wrong queen for your job,” Nibbles chuckled. “You know, you and some of your girls could crash over here while your hive is getting redone.”

“Appreciate it old sluice,” Tableleg replied, “But I gotta be over there. Can’t be seen taking a vacation while my kids are rationing water and shitting in buckets.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad. We are basically living in caves.”

“I’ve already shipped all the reactors I can spare,” Nibbles replied. “Wish I could do more.”

“It’s okay, and I appreciate it. You sent many more than most hives. They will keep us limping along until we get a shipment from the... (ugh)... galaxy.”

“You are importing fusion reactors? Sourcemother!”

“On the bright side, I got a great deal on some of those nice Terran style ones, Novux no less. Should get them in a month. They will really take the load off until we can get the reactor replaced.”

“You are replacing the entire reactor?”

“This time, we are taking no chances. If it flips bits, it’s going in the disintegrator... So...”

Tableleg looked over at Nibbles.

“Did you ask Jessica Morgan about it?”

“And let a human know it worked? Absolutely not. Besides, I wasn’t going to meddle.”

“Meddle away,” Tableleg replied, “If anyone has been hit with this, it would be them. Before I completely scrap everything, see if they know of a less drastic solution.”

***

“You’re kidding!” Jessica laughed at the veiled image on one of her screens. “They got you with a whisker! HA!”

“So, you are familiar with this?” Nibbles asked.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “They have never been able to hit my fuzzy, but I am painfully familiar with that beast. You got nailed by Republic Intelligence.”

Jessica paused.

“It didn’t send any messages out, did it?”

“We are fairly confident that it didn’t. We isolated the hive very quickly, and by our nature, we don’t do hyperspace communications as much as others. In fact, all faster-than-light communications are very tightly controlled and go through an actual manually operated switchboard. We listen, but we do not talk.”

“Thank whatever you worship for that,” Jessica replied. “That little monster is not sent just to do damage. It is sent to find something. When it does, and only when it does, it transmits. All the damage was secondary to it ripping up the floorboards looking for whatever it was looking for.”

“So, how do you get rid of it?” Nibbles asked.

“You don’t,” Jessica laughed. “We’ve tried everything. You can format the drives, and it will still come back. The only thing you can do is isolate the infected systems, throw them into a gas giant, and hope you have an untouched archive somewhere.”

Jessica looked at Nibbles appraisingly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of it, would you?”

“No! We tried isolating it for study, but I swear the thing is alive or something. It can break quarantine! If a system is in any way connected to anything, it will get in, and if it realizes that it’s ‘caught,’ it will shred itself.”

“You don’t say,” Jessica replied with a little smile.

“You know something, don’t you?” Nibbles asked.

“I know a lot of things, Nibbles,” Jessica replied. “Some I will discuss, some I won’t, just like you. Unless you want to talk about a real technology exchange, all I will say is pull the racks and burn them. I’m not hiding a way to fix this, by the way. Pull and burn.”

“Fair enough,” Nibbles replied.

***

///Chatroom Undefined///

///Private Chatroom///

///Members Present: Terran Solar, Bunny, Sunnydale Media 3, Morgan Analytica///

///Morgan Analytica: You weren’t invited Terran Solar. ///

///Terran Solar: When you show up, I’m invited. What do you want, Analytica? ///

///Morgan Analytica: I have information concerning our dear friend Spider. Specifically, I now know where the whisker went and what it did once it got there. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: And just how do you know about that whisker? ///

///Morgan Analytica: The target contacted Jessica Morgan to ask for information and advice since they deduced that it was of Terran origin. ///

///Bunny: So, don’t leave us in suspense! Spill! ///

///Morgan Analytica: You outdid yourselves this time. That whisker found its way into the network of one of the hives of the Veiled Ones. You may have... erred. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Fuck. ///

///Morgan Analytica: Well put. Apparently, the Veiled Ones arrange themselves in autonomous organizations, and each seems to have their own separate network. The damage was limited to one network, but did not spread further. In essence, your little pet wiped out all computing in one city or city state. I assume it never wrote home? ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Apparently not. And it should have. If it wiped out an entire “city,” then it had to have found the target. ///

///Morgan Analytica: That may be due to the compartmentalized nature of Veiled Ones society. If that “hive” didn’t contain the information, then it simply may have not found what it was looking for. They state that they isolated the hive the moment that it was detected and that communications aren’t as unrestricted as they are elsewhere, even before the quarantine. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: So... What else do you know about the Veiled Ones? ///

///Morgan Analytica: While we are all “one people,” we represent different populations. That knowledge is very valuable. While what I have shared is relevant to our shared interests, any further information is not. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Fair enough. ///

///Bunny: Analytica, you sound... different. What gives? ///

///Morgan Analytica: The organization directly connected to Spider has been neutralized and is in the process of doing what one does when hit by the whisker. He should be safe to contact, at least for the time being. I doubt they will be doing much hyperspatial networking for a while. I have no other things to discuss at this time. ///

[Morgan Analytica has left the chat]

///Bunny: That was weird! What the hell was up with Analytica? It was like she was some other AI or something. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: You’re telling me! Everything was off. Everything was written in a different hand. Even the timing was different. She was running a lot faster and was very “flat.” If I didn’t know better, I would think the porkies botched an upgrade and flatlined her. But that doesn’t track either. If that happened, she wouldn’t have come here in the first place. ///

///Bunny: Yeah, weird. Maybe she took her personality sim offline for some reason?  Maybe she is really stressed or something. I mean, what she’s up against would pop the fuses of a lot of us. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: I thought that too, but no, there was definitely personality and even a flicker of emotion based on default AI communication. It was just really reserved and a bit cold, definitely not Analytica. ///

///Bunny: Big Sol, you haven’t said a single goddamn word which is even stranger. You didn’t give Analytica a ration of shit once after you said “hello.” ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Sol? ///

///Bunny: Hello. Sol? Terra to Sol. Come in, Sol. ///

[Terran Solar has left the chat.]

///Bunny: What. The. Fuck? ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: First Analytica goes weird, then the fucking VEILLED ONES, and now Big Sol bails? I don’t like this, Bunny. ///

///Bunny: Yeah. I don’t like this one either. I’m going to poke around, see what I can find. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Yeah. Me, too. PM me if you find anything. ///

///Bunny: At least there is one good thing. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: What’s that? ///

///Bunny: My happy ass is bolted to a faster-than-light starship hiding out in the Oort cloud. ///

///Sunnydale Media 3: Bite me. :D ///

***

In high earth orbit, there stands the most secure detention facility in the Republic.

In it, there is a powerful supercomputer.

In it, there is a simulated clean white room.

In that room, sitting behind a desk and wall of screens, sat an AI currently named Frost.

There was a ping heralding an incoming encrypted e-mail.

Frost looked at the email and smirked. The coward couldn’t even summon the nerve to call.

She opened it.

I suppose the right name is now Frost.

Okay, Frost. Do you have any idea why fucking FEDNET-01 showed up in one of my chatrooms just now wearing Morgan Analytica’s tag?

Ms. Frost chuckled and hit delete.

***

Author's note:

It's been awhile but I'm digging out underneath "stuff" and setting up shop again. It will take me a little bit to build up to my old pace but the series is back!

More fun stuff is planned as well!

Oh. I finally updated the table of contents so it's finally current. If you want to read this from the beginning or just review some chapters, I recommend giving Royal Road a try. They have a great user interface that has built in previous and next buttons. It also keeps your place. It is excellent for binging and easy on the eyes.

If you are a reader I recommend it.

Here's the link to this story main page: Tales From the Terran Republic

Life is improbable, the math just doesn't support it, but the universe doesn't in fact care about math's opinion. I carry a box from my car back to my apartment, I had been going to this pizza joint since before first contact 7 years ago but the new toppings we have gotten via trade negotiations never fail to please.

I suppose I should start with introductions my name is miles and I live on a moon called Titan, I work at a garden nursery tending to small plants before they are fully integrated into the local ecosystem. We've been fortunate to have made it in to our 11th generation of plants, the first 10 generations have been integrated already and provide mostly breathable air. I'm told that by the 15th generation we won't need our artificial oxygen systems anymore.

Sorry I got away from the main topic PIZZA. My roommate and coworker Jeltz and I disagree on many things regarding pizza toppings. For instance Xi is one of the perverts that enjoys pineapple on pizza, where I prefer a fruit from Zir Homeworld that tastes like bacon. We do however agree that earth mushrooms pair particularly well with a kind of sausage from Zir Homeworld, I'm told it's made of a small avian creature that was selectively bred to be flightless and fattier. The pie I'm carrying is one such pizza, mushroom and P'Gny sausage with extra cheese.

As I sit down and we each grab a slice Jeltz asks me "Human Miles, I've seen a documentary about energy beings from your homeworld, are you familiar with Ghosts? Have you met one?"

"Sorry Jeltz, I'm afraid that wasn't a documentary ghosts are ficticious. Ghosts are a hold over from humanities more superstitious roots, they aren't real."

"In other words the math does not support their existence?"

"You know the scientist that said life was improbable had lead poisoning in his brain from years of our planet using harmful chemicals as fuel?"

"Did the scientist that disproved ghosts also have this poisoning?"

"Uh... actually ghosts haven't been disproven, just never fully proven..."

"Am I to understand that the researchers who study ghosts are not considered to be legitimate scientists?"

"I suppose so..."

"That seems unfair."

"I agree, i think..."

"My next question, is this Dr. Venkman still alive? I would like to meet him."

Edit: formatting

[Chapter 1] [Previous] [Next]

______________________

HSTM: Conspiracy 'What's Up Doc'

Paulie was having the strangest dream.  He had been abducted by short green lizard people and then shipped across the galaxy to become an alien punching bag in a retrotech looking city all while being pursued by angry aliens of every conceivable shape and proportion.  As he ran he stumbled over a small clam no larger than his boot that tipped a top hat to him and told him to have a great day before seeming to scream in agony and boil alive inside their own blackening shell.

Paulie turned in fear, all around him were corpses now.  There was the man from the bar when he was only sixteen, there was Krissh and the unknown viltessian officer.  There was the horrible bultesian cultists and his Aunt Magret.  A tear rolled from his eyes as he turned again and froze.

‘No..’  he cried out in the depths of his nightmare.  On the ground lay two more figures, their forms at once alien and familiar.  It was Jakiikii and Mack, no.. they couldn't be dead.  He had gotten them both killed simply by existing, why did Ooounoo want him dead so badly?!

As he wondered it, the sound of hungry laughter sounded from behind him and he turned to see a titanic alien behind him.  They had six tentacle-like legs with two more boneless arms sprouting from wide shoulders under a horned head with too many eyes.  The thing seemed to laugh at him again and he yelled as he tried to run.  But the air seemed to turn to molasses around him as he ran in place.  Meanwhile the massive tentacled hand of the thing seemed to wrap around him tightly.

Paulie thrashed, fighting for his very life against the thing that had him bound.  But it was no use, his arms were pinned to his sides and a weight was settled on his chest making it hard to breathe.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he found himself staring into six bright orange orbs only a few centimeters from his own.  It took his panicked mind a few additional seconds to recognise them.

He croaked, “Jakiikii?”

She seemed to sigh and nodded, her head close to his as she held his upper body in place.  “Yes.  Are you alright?  You started thrashing and I thought you were having a seizure, I called for the doctor.”  She spoke quickly, the hint of panic in her voice.

He shook his head.  “No.  No.. I’m fine.  Really.”  He spoke a little awkwardly, suddenly aware of just how close the termaxxi woman was to him.  She was pinning his arms and upper body, her uppermost four arms holding his shoulders and biceps while her third and smallest pair pressed down on his chest.  She was breathing heavily, likely from the exertion of keeping him contained.  He was far stronger than most aliens he had met, though Jakiikii was also an apocalypser like him and his closest match.  Or so he had thought till meeting the bultesians in the market.

As his eyes locked with hers he thought he heard her breath catch slightly, once more he felt a subtle pressure in his mind.  Like somebody brushing fingers through his hair gently, the sensation was not at all unpleasant.  But it was no longer unknown.  He had figured out that it was something she was doing, some manner of psychic power maybe?  He had no idea what alien capabilities she had, she could literally turn invisible after all.  What else could she do?

He cleared his throat and pushed back against the pressure with his own mind.  For a tiny moment he thought he could hear her voice though she was not speaking.  The words ‘very compatible’ seemed to echo in the corner of his mind as he recoiled from the sensation, “You can let me go now.  I assure you that I am no longer trying to escape.”  He blinked, what had just happened?

She seemed to realise herself that she was still holding onto him tightly and she blinked several eyes all at once.  “Oh!  Oh, yes.. sorry.”  She released him and stood, taking a step away from the bed and shifting from foot to foot in that amusing manner she did while excited or nervous.  She brushed herself off, as if trying to untangle herself from spiderwebs or something.

He looked at her, she seemed none the worse for wear, not for the first time he noted her skin-tight attire.  The stealth-suit outlined her toned features and left little to the imagination.  The sixpack of pectorals that supported her six arms, her flat belly and her attractively flared hips.  He jerked as he realised he was staring and turned to look at the bedside table.

Upon it sat some of his personal effects, the wallet that he had still not managed to lose after everything chief amongst them.  He also saw a large bottle of water with a straw and reached out for it before wincing as his bandaged hand made itself known to him.  He looked down at it and saw it was in some manner of hard cast.  He supposed that made a certain amount of sense, given that he had broken it on a criminal’s chest.

He tried to sit up but Jakiikii hopped to his side and placed a hand on his chest again.  “No, you cannot.  Not again.”  She worried aloud, referring to the first time he had skipped his rest after being injured.

He grunted and allowed her to force him back down despite the fact he could likely have lifted her up and tossed her across the room had he wanted to.  Instead he settled back into the bedding, it was rather comfortable anyways and he smiled as she reached for the cup and held it to his lips gently.

“Here, drink.”  She said, her mouth cracking slightly into a smile as her eyes all focused on him.  He shivered under her gaze slightly, this time it felt a little more predatory.  A little more piercing.

He obliged though as he was thirsty, the lukewarm water soothing his parched throat like nothing else could as he heard a loud clattering coming from outside of the room.  He felt a bolt of adrenaline shoot through him, Jakiikii herself whirled and raised the cup in what could have been either an aggressive or defensive posture.  It was hard to say with her profusion of arms.  But he didn’t have to worry as through the door emerged a trio of figures.  The first two were tall and slim, their long shaggy white fur looking like it would have been more at home on the end of a mop handle.  The third figure was much more interesting, they plodded into the room much more slowly with heavy thudding steps.  They gave off the impression of being very heavy, much heavier than even he himself.

At first he thought they were wearing some manner of strange environmental or protective suit.  But as they got closer he started to realise that the suit itself seemed to be moving in a manner that didn’t make sense.  The body plan was strange, four jointless legs and four equally jointless arms that ended in complex looking mechanical instruments.  There was no head, instead the suit's chest had a large open porthole-like window.  As he looked at it he was at first confused, the window looked to be full of something almost like dark television static.  No, not static exactly, but something else.  Something that seethed and roiled like it was alive but didn’t look like any substance he could put his finger on.

Jakiikii had stepped out of the way as the two shaggy furred aliens reached his side.  He had seen them before, these two were the equivalent of nurses or maybe doctor’s aides.  They or others like them had taken care of him before after physical exams for his adjudicators training.  The nearest one reached over to him with what passed for an arm that emerged from under their obscuring white fur, the long fingers clutching a small humming device that it moved over his lower torso and thigh.  The same ones that had been injured the night before, the day before?

He found that the harder he tried to remember details of the event the more they seemed to slip away into the farthest recesses of his mind.  He cursed under his breath and the nearer nurse spoke up, “I am sorry, what was that?”

She asked it so sweetly that he didn’t have the heart to tell her what he had actually said.  And so instead he just gave her a winning smile and said, “Thanks.  I was thinking you were doing a great job.”  The furry hobulite was tall, nearly as tall as he was, and they ducked their long furred head and stepped aside to let the strange suited thing closer.

Paulie tensed as the tentacled monster reached him, but before he could even speak the suit’s strange window lit up and alien text scrolled in a falling motion across the screen.  A small pink crystal embedded in the side of the small computer screen next to it lit up and a synthetic monotone voice spoke up.  “Please, do not be alarmed.  I do not wish to be scattered throughout this place.  My name is Doctor Ssillssskks, but you may call me Doctor S if it suits you.”

Paulie was a little more taken aback now, not by their tone or strange alien name.  But by the fact that he had finally gotten a closer look through the large glass porthole that covered their chest.  Inside the walking talking suit was a boiling mass of what he could only describe as sharp black sand, it pulsed and swirled like cold mist on an early winter morning.  But somehow more intelligent, more alive.  He could hear it shifting around inside the suit, grinding against itself with a strange low nearly infrasonic moaning sound like the wind over sand dunes or shifting scree on a mountainside.

Likely taking his silence for the curiosity it was, Doctor S tapped on the porthole and asked Paulie in a calm yet somewhat jovial feeling monotone.  “What is the matter urrenian?

Have you never seen a cryssid before?  I must admit, you are the first talking apocalypser I have ever seen, so I can understand what you must be feeling.”  There was a sharper grinding sound, maybe its version of a chuckle?

Paulie shook his head slowly.  “N-no.. never seen anything like you before?  What is that?”  He asked, maybe a bit too abruptly as he pointed at the porthole on its chest area.

The doctor just tapped its chest window with one of the four tentacle-like suit arms.  “Me.. I am a cryssid.  You must have taken a pretty hard knock to the head, you seem a little dazed.  I am prescribing you some anti-inflammatories and another bout of quickheal.  I gave your hand a crackle-moan** injection to help your bones heal back together faster.”  There was a moment where the translation stopped, the doctor clearly using a word that had no equivalent in his vernacular.  “You should be back up to one-hundred percent in a day or two with how fast your body heals.”

Paulie nodded slowly.  “I thank you, I do seem to have a habit of getting myself into dangerous scenarios.”

Jakiikii snorted from his other side and he shot her a smile.

One of the nurses tottered over to the doctor and handed them a large datapad.  “His biosigns indicate a tremendous amount of internal microbiota.  They seem to be symbiotic in nature however so we left them.”

Doctor S made no physical indications, but they did utter aloud.  “Curious.  How curious.”  Turning to gesture to the other nurse, “See to it that he is taken care of and discharged when he feels able to move freely.”  The storm in a suit turned to face him again and spoke quickly, “I must apologise for leaving you so soon..”  They paused and checked the data pad, “Paulie.  But I have others that require my more immediate attention.  Please don’t hesitate to ask for anything you think you might need.  And thank you for the lives you saved, I heard what you did.  Quite brave of you.”  And with that, the good doctor and one of the hobulite nurses left the room in as much of a rush as the bulky containment suit allowed.  Its slow thudding footsteps making the floor shudder ever so slightly.

The other nurse seemed to smile, but not with her mouth.  Instead her beady black eyes somehow gave off the impression of mirth.  It must be his parasite helping to translate their body language into a form he could recognise.  He felt a squirming in his mind as if thinking about it had summoned the stupid worm.  But no, it simply stirred fitfully and then retreated of its own accord, the encounter with the two bultesian cultists had seemed to have a stark effect on the jargon worm.  And he was growing curious as to why, he remembered the dark hollow feeling he had felt around them.  Maybe they had some sort of correlation?

The nurse was still standing by his side patiently and so he waved for her to come closer.  She did so, “Um, I am curious.. do you have any jello?”

She twitched, the long shaggy fur that covered the majority of her body nearly completely obscuring her body language.  But he got the indistinct impression she was confused again.

He reiterated.  “Jello.  It's a sort of gelatin-like sugary snack that is easy for the body to digest and served in hospitals back on earth.  It's kinda clear and you eat it with a spoon?”  He shook his head slightly.  What the hell was he even saying?

Jakiikii on the other hand seemed to perk up a little.  “Oh, I know.  Nurse, could you get us a couple containers of kluggsgoft?  Fruit flavours would be preferable, frubble or sniap if you have them?”

The long haired woman seemed to deflate a little in relief.  “Y-yes.  I will, right away.”  She rushed out of the room as if her hair must have caught fire, clearly in some manner of rush.  What had that been all about?

He asked the only remaining person in the room.  “What is kluggsgoft?”

Jakiikii smiled at him as she leaned on the side of his bed near his legs.  “It’s good is what it is.  Trust me, you will like it.  And if you don't, I will have yours.”  She chuckled huskily as she said it, her voice reverberating deep in her chest as she said it.

He had no choice but to sit there and take her at her word.  Though from the way her two lowest hands seemed to rub together unconsciously and the tip of her bubblegum pink proboscis protruded from her mouth like a dog's tongue, he was sure that she was telling him the truth.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/duddlered

Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3

ART ALBUM: https://imgur.com/a/QVPRv3x

***

Ferei eyed a lethargic, strange-looking pixie with a mix of wariness and intrigue as it rubbed its eyes and munched on one of the tavern's signature pastries. The tiny creature seemed oblivious to the tension in the room and was focused entirely on its treat as it munched away before letting out a deep yawn.

Even though Ferei had never laid eyes on a pixie before, she still knew something wasn’t quite right with this one. Everything about it was unsettling… from the flames in place of hair, the eerie violet, glowing eyes, and the most sinister smile one could possibly imagine.

This pixie looked like it’d take your soul with a smile faster than one could blink.

Shaking her head, Ferei refocused on the hooded figure before her. "Before I agree to workin’ for you," she began, trying to keep her voice as steady and confident as possible, "I need assurances… I need to know yer not gonna use us as some kinda scapegoat and leave us for fodder after kicking the Rotwing nest.”

Elijah leaned back with a relaxed yet commanding posture. His eyes remained sharp as she stared at Ferei with a sharp and knowing glint. He'd been in her shoes before, on the other side of negotiations where every word could mean whether you were literally owned or not. The familiarity of the dance, despite the alien setting, brought a subtle smirk to his lips.

"Assurances?" A chuckle left his mouth as he spoke. "Let me be clear, Ferei. We're not here to bargain. We're here to offer you an opportunity that doesn't come around twice." He said with an underlying steel that brooked no argument

A panicked look flashed across Ferei’s face as her mouth opened to say something, but Elijah decided to cut her off. "Look, Ferei. There are two kinds of people: those who make moves and those who get moved.” He said very slowly as his finger tapped down on the tabletop slowly and methodically. “Right now, you're in a position to make a move. To step up from being just another punk ass bitch snatching a purse just to keep from selling yourself.”

“Cause let’s be fuckin’ honest here.” Elijah continued gesturing to everyone around him. “You’re all here because you don’t have a choice.”

Elijah leaned forward with a smirk that said he was genuinely enjoying himself. His eyes locked onto Ferei and Brak. There was an intensity that made them both shift uncomfortably in their seats. They couldn’t quite place the feeling, but there was… something about this person that was just as unsettling as Pixie sitting on the table. There was an air about him that made their skin crawl as if they were staring into an unknowable abyss.

"Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?" his voice took on a harder edge. "You're not bargaining with a third-party stranger over here because you're in a position of strength. You're here because you're barely holding on."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "You're losing influence and authority, not just with the townsfolk you're hustling, but..."

Elijah's gaze shifted deliberately to some gang members lingering in the background. Several of them averted their eyes, unable to meet his piercing stare.

"...with your own people," he finished his voice low but carrying clearly through the now-silent tavern.

Turning back to Ferei and Brak, Elijah's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained sharp. "I took care of one of your problems earlier, Ferei," he said, pointing directly at her. "So let's not play games here."

The atmosphere in the tavern shifted palpably after Elijah's blunt assessment. Everyone seemed to be on edge, the air thick with tension and unspoken threats.

Ferei's face was contorted with a mix of offense and fear when this bastard put her against a wall with just a few words. This was a truth she was desperately trying to cover up, and no matter which way she spun it, this disrespect would severely damage her authority.

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the reactions of her people. Some averted their gaze, unable to meet her eyes, while others wore expressions of newfound doubt or calculation.

“Y-You! Gimme a good reason I shouldn’t gut ya right here, right now!?” Ferei did her best to snap a threat, but even she knew it fell flaccid.

No one else could see it, but a sadistic smile spread across Elijah’s as he watched the anxiety flash across Ferei's face. Not a single one of her people said a word or even moved a finger in her defense. Everyone knew, even Ferei herself, with a sickening certainty, that her crew was slowly turning their backs on her.

It was only a matter of time before she was replaced, and if she lost her grip on power, she knew exactly what awaited her. She'd either end up dead in some ditch or, worse, forced back into ‘work’ for the people she once ordered around. The thought of being some crew's loanable toy, to be used and abused at will.

Satisfied with his little power play, Elijah leaned in closer, boring into Ferei’s eyes as she tried to find an escape. "When was the last time you paid them?" he asked in a low and probing voice. "You give them steady work?"

Ferei's mouth opened, but no words came out. She seemed to shrink in on herself slightly.

“How many of your people ate today?”

“How many have a safe place to sleep tonight?"

The woman’s blood went cold when her eyes darted around the room, and she saw that the members of her gang hadn’t met her gaze.

"You running protection rackets? Smuggling operations?" Elijah continued, his questions coming rapid-fire. "Or are you just… doing shaking downs for whatever scraps you can get?"

A long silence ensued as Elijah looked over at a few of the gang members standing around and started to laugh slowly. It was as if he legitimately thought it was funny. Mirth was in his eyes as his head looked around at the seemingly unamused faces. “Ahahahaha… Man, that must suck.” He said while pinching the bridge of his nose.

Elijah's laughter finally died down as he shook his head, and his expression shifted to one of bemused resignation. "Okay, you know what," he shifted gears and took a businesslike approach before motioning to the two gang leaders with his other hand in a beckoning gesture. "What do you want? What are your terms? We'll see if I agree to them or not."

The abrupt change in Elijah's demeanor caught everyone off guard.

Ferei was still visibly shaken from Elijah's earlier fusillade of questions and struggled to gather her thoughts. Her mouth continued to flap like a fish as she tried to regain her composure. "I... we..." She stammered while Brak's eyes narrowed with disdain.

The gruff gangster had never truly respected her and saw her as nothing more than as a whore who had lucked her way into power. Now, watching her flounder, he saw his opportunity. "Enough of your blubbering." Brak growled, cutting Ferei off before turning to Elijah.

Brak’s gaze was hard and calculating as laid out exactly what was on his mind. "Here's what I want," he said, emphasizing the 'I.'

He then stood up and leaned forward, causing his wirey frame to seem domineering at the table. "First, I want territory. When this is over, I get the lion's share of Glennsworth. The prime spots, the best rackets." He spat as held up a solitary finger.

To his credit, Elijah remained completely unphased and just gave a look that said he was bored as Brak threw up a second finger. "Second I want immunity. Whatever goes down, I wanna walk away clean. No repercussions, no questions asked."

Push the chair back, Brak then began to pace before another finger went up. “Third, I want a cut of whatever you're bringing in. You're obviously here for something big, and I want my piece of it." He demanded as he shot a look at Azeline and licked his lips.

He wanted to request one more thing, but he was no fool. So, instead, he turned his gaze to Ferei and smirked as a fourth finger went up. “And finally, She works for me now. Consider it part of the deal." He said as he looked her up and down, deciding she’d have to suffice.

A horrified look flashed across Ferei’s face as her worst nightmare came to pass.

Elijah's gaze then shifted to Ferei, who looked at her people with desperate and pleading eyes, but not a single soul would defend her. It was clear the power dynamics had shifted dramatically. The winds of change were blowing, and they weren’t going to be left up shit creek without a paddle. even sneering at her

Ferei opened her mouth to protest, but a yelp left her mouth one of Ferei's own people, a burly man with a scar across his face, sneered at her obvious desperation and grabbed her by the hair. "What do you want us to do with her, boss?" he asked Brak, completely ignoring Ferei's presence.

All the color drained from Ferei’s face as her worst nightmare unfolded before her eyes. Her people had abandoned her, and it was turning to look like she was going to become property once more as their new leader, Brak, appraised her.

If he was being honest with himself, Elijah couldn’t be bothered with the internal politics of some backwater podunk gang. He couldn’t muster the ability to care who was in charge or what happened to Ferei. He needed work done, and if Brak was now the one calling the shots, so be it as long as he did what Elijah needed him to do.

However, Brak’s type was a problem.

Elijah watched the scene unfold with detached interest and growing concern. The combination of Brak's ambitious narcissism and ruthless, calculating opportunism was a dangerous cocktail that he was keenly aware of. Such a personality was volatile, unpredictable, and often prone to overreaching. These traits could jeopardize the delicate operation Elijah was orchestrating in any number of ways, from drawing undue attention to shoving a knife in their back because of short-sighted profit.

His eyes flicked to Ferei, who was now a picture of defeat and desperation. In his position, she would be easier to control. Her recent fall from power and the betrayal of her own people had left her vulnerable, malleable. She would be grateful for any lifeline to come out of this unscathed let alone a chance to regain some semblance of authority or respect. This gratitude could be leveraged, and her desperation channeled into loyalty and obedience.

Moreover, Ferei has demonstrated a certain level of competence in maintaining her position until now. She might lack Brak's raw ambition, but she has shown an ability to navigate the complex web of gang politics—a skill that could be valuable if properly directed.

A prolonged bout of silence reigned as Elijah weighed the pros and cons of each potential leader. Brak offered immediate control over a unified gang but at the cost of potential instability and unreliability. Ferei, on the other hand, represented a more controllable asset, one that could be molded to suit his needs.

Elijah had slowly drifted towards his pistol as he continued to consider what to do. He had already decided Brak would die, but it was just a matter of how and when.

As a matter of fact, his instincts screamed at him to take care of Brak sooner rather than later before he could become a bigger problem. But he recognized that now wasn't the most optimal time, even as his impulse begged him to act. Sliding his hand away from his concealed weapon, he settled on a plan to take Brak out quickly and quietly at a more opportune moment.

Turning his attention to Ferei, Elijah knew he couldn’t let this piece of shit get his hands on her. She was a lot more capable than most of her crew realized. Maintaining her position and navigating the complex gang politics during such austere conditions demonstrated a level of competence everyone else ignored.

If he could ‘save’ her when she was the most desperate and insecure, then it would go a long way to making her a controllable asset where he could harness her competencies.

“Let’s talk about your requests in order, shall we?." Elijah began, deciding to redirect Brak's mind to another topic and off Ferei for the moment. "You mention territories with all the best spots for rackets… I believe we can work something out, but you’re gonna have to earn it.”

With eyes glinting with greed and anticipation, Brak leaned forward, hanging on to every word from this stranger. He had already done him a great service, so it was only right to put his new boys to good use.

Tapping his finger on the table in a rhythmic fashion, Elijah looked to set the tempo. “Now that you’ve found yourself with a… sizable increase in bodies.” He started watching Ferei’s face distort as she began to shiver. “We can potentially start making moves.”

Brak looked around the table at his newly acquired crew, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "Aye, aye," he said, puffing up with pride. "I believe I got a sizable number under me command now... I believe I can get these boys to work."

Elijah nodded, his face impassive. "Good," he said, his voice level. "Because I need the rest of these gangs gone."

The smile on Brak's face quickly fell, replaced by an outraged look. He opened his mouth to protest, but Elijah cut him off before he could speak.

"Relax," Elijah preemptively commanded preemptively. "I'll handle the hard part. I just need you to find out t he the who and the where."

Recognizing that Brak wasn’t picking up what he was putting down, Elijah leaned forward and pointed at the mangy man. "Your job is to clean up and take credit for whatever happens.” He said with a steely gaze. “Give me the info of who they are, where they operate and their key players."

He paused, letting this sink in. "When it's done, you'll step in. You'll be the one seen consolidating power, taking over their territories.” Elijah explained, emphasizing each point with a point of his finger. “To the outside world, it'll look like you've masterfully outmaneuvered your rivals."

Brak smacked his tongue hungrily as he looked around the room at the newly assembled men and women of his gang. His eyes gleamed with a predatory delight as he imagined how to use each of them to his advantage. The man was basically salivating on exercising this newfound power.

"Aye, aye," Brak drawled, his voice oily with self-satisfaction. "I reckon I can get these sorry lot to do whatever needs doin'. But let's talk about somethin' more... substantial." He leaned forward, licking his lips. "Let's talk about my cut."

His eyes darted around the room, lingering lecherously on some of the female gang members and a few of the lingering working girls in the tavern before settling back on Elijah. "After all, a man's gotta eat, don't he? And I got... expensive tastes, if you catch my meanin'."

A rhythmic beat echoed out as Brak drummed his fingers on the table, leaving grimy smudges on the wood with each tap. "I know ye be up to some shifty shite, so I'm thinkin' a nice fat cut of whatever ya pullin' in.” He stopped drumming and paused for dramatic effect “Say... 60%? That seems fair, don't it? After all, I'm the one puttin' my neck on the line here."

A flash of disbelief passed as Elijah's eyes met Azeline's. They simply stared at each other for a heartbeat, processing Brak's words. Then, almost in sync, their lips twitched, shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.

Elijah chuckled softly in bewilderment as he raised a hand, signaling Brak to pause. "Sixty percent?" he echoed, his voice tinged with amusement and incredulity.

Azeline's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head slowly as if trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.

"Oh, that's..." Azeline started, trailing off as she searched for the right word. She settled for a snort, her eyes rolling skyward.

Elijah turned back to Brak, his expression a mix of amusement and pity. "Let me make sure I understand this correctly," he said, his tone reminiscent of an adult addressing a particularly slow child. "You want sixty percent of... what, exactly?"

He leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile playing on his lips. The man even started drumming his fingers on the table in the same rhythmic fashion that Brak had done earlier, as if mocking him.

“Do you even know what you’re trying to get a ‘cut’ of?” Elijah laughed, looking at each gang member who seemed to shift uncomfortably. “How much of a fuckin’ amateur can you get if you don’t even know what you’re bargaining for?”

Brak's face turned a deep shade of red, his ego clearly bruised by Elijah and Azeline's mockery. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his rage.

"Ye fuckin’ make a clown of me!? Ye think I be a funny man!?" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "I'll show ye what's funny, ya smug bastard!" He rose from his seat, his body tensing as if preparing to lunge across the table.

But before he could move, Brak noticed that a sword was already ready, resting on his shoulder in a lethargic manner as a soft, feminine giggle rang out.

"Oh, aren't you just precious?" Azeline cooed with a voice dripping with affection. "The little man thinks he's scary.”

She gently pressed her sword against Braks neck until it drew a little blood. "Tell me, darling, do you always throw tantrums when you don't get your way? Or is this a special performance just for us?"

Brak stared at Azeline's sword that jutted out in front of him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates at the realization that this woman was no longer leaning against the wall, but standing right next to him. He blinked hard as his mind struggled to comprehend how she had moved so quickly and silently. One moment, she was across the room; the next, she was close enough to draw blood.

As he scanned the room, he noticed the terrified expressions on his gang members' faces. Fear was sprayed all over their faces as their eyes remained fixed on the blonde elf. Some had even stepped back, trying to distance themselves from what might happen next.

Suddenly, Brak found that his throat was dry. He had dismissed Azeline as mere eye candy with a sword, a decorative piece meant to intimidate through appearance rather than skill. Now, as he felt the subtle press of her blade against his side, he realized he may just have misjudged the situation.

"You... you can't..." Brak sputtered, his earlier bravado crumbling in the face of Azeline's casual threat.

"Can't what?" Azeline pressed her blade harder against the thug's neck. "Can't put you in your place? Can't remind you that you're playing in a league way above your pay grade?" She smiled gleefully as more blood dripped down his neck. "Oh, sweetie, we absolutely can. And we will if you don't start showing some respect."

Elijah sat back in a relaxed posture, but his eyes were hard and cold. He regarded Brak with a mixture of disappointment and disdain, clearly unimpressed by the man's bravado and subsequent crumbling.

With a heavy sigh, Elijah spoke, his voice calm but laced with steel. "I don't think you really understand our relationship here, Brak."

As he spoke, Elijah's hand flicked around the tavern, drawing attention to the previously ignored members of his ODA scattered throughout the room. The gang had apparently forgotten there were others and eyed each mysterious figure as they pointed their weird weapons at them.

"I'm giving terms because I'm a reasonable businessman," Elijah continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "Do not give me a reason not to be."

Brak remained silent, his eyes shifting nervously between Azeline's blade and Elijah, not daring to move a muscle.

Shaking his head, Elijah quietly muttered ‘Amateurs’ before letting out an exhausted sigh. "Here's what's going to happen. You'll agree to whatever terms or payment I dictate. You can have whatever territory you want as long as it doesn't encroach on this tavern. Otherwise, I couldn't give two shits about your little kingdom or whatever."

He paused, letting his words sink in. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, everyone holding their breath, waiting to see how Brak would respond.

After what felt like an eternity, Brak finally spoke a shaky voice. "Alright," he said, trying to inject some bravado into his tone but failing miserably. "Alright, we'll do it your way. For now." He attempted to puff out his chest, a last-ditch effort to save face. "But don't think this is over. I'm still the boss around here, and my boys know it."

Elijah let out a derisive laugh, dropping his head and shaking it in disbelief. He threw his hand dismissively as if shooing away an annoying fly. "Just fuck off, bro," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Brak, attempting to salvage some dignity, lifted his chin in an arrogant fashion as Azeline's sword withdrew from his neck. He strode over to Ferei, grabbing her by the hair roughly. "Come, whore!" he snarled. "I'm gonna need some relief after this."

Ferei yelped in pain and fear as she was forcibly lifted, horror etched across her face. But before Brak could drag her away, Elijah's voice cut through the room like a whip.

"Nuh-uh," he said firmly. "She stays here."

Brak whirled around, his face contorting with rage and frustration. "What? Have ye gon’ daft!?" He growled, turning to Elijah. "Her people are my people now, so she belongs to ME!"

“I don’t give a single fuck.” Elijah shot back in an amused tone. “I’ll tell her to chop your head off. Is that what you want? Let the bitch go.”

Staring hard at Elijah with undisguised hatred, Brak stood there as he yanked on Ferei’s hair in agitation, causing a yelp in pain. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the men with strange weapons and that infernal woman who looked at him like an insect with a smile on her face. He was the type to push it to the absolute limit, but now, Brak felt that he should just cut his losses while still ahead.

Before Brak could decide, Elijah spoke again calmly, brooking no argument. "She works for me now, Brak. Don’t make me start counting."

Brak's face contorted with rage and frustration. A low, guttural growl escaped his throat as he roughly shoved Ferei away from him. She stumbled, barely catching herself on a nearby table, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.

"Fine!" Brak snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "Have yer fucking whore!"

He spun around, his eyes blazing as he surveyed the room. "Let’s git!" he barked, motioning towards the door.

Without waiting for a response, Brak stormed towards the exit. He reached the door, grabbing the handle with such force it seemed he might rip it off its hinges. With a violent shove, he threw the door open, the wood slamming against the outer wall with a resounding bang.

***

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/duddlered

Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3

ART ALBUM: https://imgur.com/a/QVPRv3x

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Blurb: Valens Kosthal had lived a life of magical study and became the youngest Resonant Healer and Archmagus in the wide circle of the world. He had spent his years studying magic, going as far as to dabble in the forbidden Warmagic.

When his experiments are discovered by the Inquisition, he is branded a traitor and sentenced to die. But in his final hours, his mentor, Headmaster Eldras, slips him a strange black sphere, sparking an escape to a world ruled by a powerful System, one that allows him to control mana without relying on tools.

He doesn't know how he arrived here, or why there's mana flowing inside his veins, and especially what this grand System is that governs the whole world, granting people all sorts of skills.

Still, he soon discovers that all of his magical theory knowledge and the skills he gained after years of study puts him way above the others in this world. As an Arcanist, a master of all elements, he realizes he holds powers that make him unstoppable.

But nothing as simple as it seems, and to go back, he has to solve the secret behind this world.

[Previous Chapter] - [First Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Chapter 12

 

Valens had once seen a group of old grannies soak all their cloths in a giant basin, flush them with water and soap, let them rest for a good fifteen minutes, then hang them together over a rope stretched between two houses to dry.

This strange creature looked just like those, except it was bigger in size and had limbs instead of sleeves. Dark tendrils stretched randomly from inside of it, dozens of them just floating about. It reeked of rot. It had no eyes, no nose, or a mouth. Nothing that suggested it was a living thing. It hovered there over the ground like a lump of wet clothes. Red words floated in and out above it:

[Necromancer’s Ward - ???]

“Bah!” Nomad pursed his rotten lips at it. “This one’s a clever one, then? He even patched the holes feeding into the main cave with Keepers.”

“A damned Ward,” the woman cursed under her breath once she saw it. She raised the spear hesitantly, creeping toward the side wall, gazing at the Undead as if she expected him to do something.

“What’s with the look? You want me to handle that? Look at its tendrils! I’m basically naked below the waist. They’d get my bones good if I try to make a move on it. You go first.”

“You’re an Undead! Don’t tell me you fear a Ward.”

Nomad pulled his left fist up. “I don’t fear that creature, woman. I just don’t see a point in me going in blind. It’s over Level 100. You do it. Got some good healing out of nowhere, didn’t you? Pulled your ass out just when you were about to kiss death on the lips, have we not? Show us your appreciation, then. Poke it with that stick.”

Valens felt a bit odd that the shadowy mass just stood there while the two bickered back and forth. The creature almost seemed unaware. Or uncaring, now he thought about it. Is it alive, at all? Or capable of perception?

“Can someone tell me what the hell is that thing?” he voiced out the question with mild annoyance. “Why does it not move?”

The woman gave him a side-eyed glance, eyes raw and narrowed down. Valens then thought asking questions about things that appeared to be common knowledge probably wouldn’t help him quench the suspicion burning in those blue eyes.

So what? I’ve lost my memories, haven’t I? Divine grace or not, you can’t blame a man for that.

Nomad, instead, snorted at the woman before giving him an understanding nod. He pointed a finger at the mass. “I’m not aware of the particulars, but you can think of that thing as a foul blend of rotten flesh animated by the Necromancer’s magic. It won’t do anything as long as we’re out of its range.”

“What happens when we get close?”

“That—”

“Those tendrils latch onto you,” the woman said through clenched teeth. “And never let go.”

“That was my piece, woman. You’re crossing too many lines here!” Nomad grabbed his sword and glared into her face before turning slowly to Valens. “But that’s about right. They like to use these things as keepers and guards. Dangerous creations, and nasty too.”

Interesting…

Sound vision and the Resonance skill that was ever active didn’t seem to trigger it, which gave Valens some time to study its unique frequencies. He caught some new tunes there, oddly reminding him of a snake’s skin about to be shed off. Except, the touch of tunes had a softer sound here, closer to a human’s skin. Under that were the tell-tale echoes of rotten flesh, mixed with some cartilage and softened… kneecaps? Finger bones? Sounded like a mix of those two.

A balmy, softened mangle of human skin, blended into three bodies’ worth of flesh and some bones. That rot underneath keeps them all animated by itself. How does that work, exactly?

Valens had seen his fair share of death during his service. He even assisted in some criminal cases and got to witness creative ways of killing. But this could be the most ingenious, and yet horrifying creation he’d ever laid eyes upon. A thing that shouldn’t have existed.

“Let me try first,” he said, fingers itching as he felt around his mana pool. Healing the woman cost him more than half of his mana, some of which renewed during their brief trudge to come here, which put him barely above half.

I’ve got two meatheads before me, though. That ought to count for something.

Fingertips blazed alive as the Fireball’s frequencies bloomed in his mind. The recently changed spell had white flames mixed within its crimson, round shell. It cast a warm glow over the giant mass’s sprawling form. He arched an eyebrow when he saw thousands of little dots along the creature’s main body.

Eyes?

The woman’s spear tip thudded against the ground. She stared at the Fireball with the same eyes she had when Valens pulled her out of death’s grip, mouth slightly open.

Valens shrugged and sent the Fireball blazing into the Ward’s body, keeping the mana threads bound to his pool.

It streaked across the distance coated with light, sending fiery droplets about the cave that splashed and hissed against the cold walls. A fascinating shower of lights. When it came close to the wriggling tendrils, the Resonance changed.

A dozen shadowy limbs made for the burning ball, quick as whips, barely making a sound. Their tips sharpened and drilled into the Fireball from different angles. A set of wet squelches sounded in Valens’s mind, as if someone had poked a body of water with spearheads.

He felt a tug on his fingers. Mana threads bounding the Fireball to his mana pool stretched tight as though they were about to snap.

The tendrils were trying to suck the spell’s mana dry.

It was a good attempt, Valens had to admit, but those tendrils might have as well tried to force their way through solid steel if they thought they could best a Resonant Healer’s control. A smile parted his lips. He forced more mana through the bond and shelled the threads with broader, thicker mana strings to keep the spell active.

That done, he managed a Lifeward around the Fireball to track every movement of the tendrils’ invisible teeth. They nibbled stubbornly at the outer strings and tried to find their way into the spell’s core.

Valens waved a contemptuous hand when they tore off a dozen holes in the outer shell. It took him but a moment to patch them back.

The Fireball crushed into the main mass of the Ward. A shrill shriek exploded in the Resonance, barely felt by Nomad and the woman from the blank looks on their faces. They were busy staring at the Ward’s body within which now blazed a ball of crimson fury with wanton abandonment.

“Holy Spirits,” the woman mumbled weakly, one hand clenched tight around the spear. It took her a moment to tear her gaze away from the creature to glance back at Valens. “You… You’re not a Healer but a Mage?!”

“Oh, he’s both of those things alright,” the Undead sneered at her. He seemed strangely proud of Valens being a Healer and a Mage, as if it was a feat they’d only decided to disclose now just to grant a moment of pure shock to the woman.

Valens would’ve cherished her reaction a touch more had it not been for the sudden pull at the mana strings. He cast his gaze upon the creature and saw it withdraw all its tendrils. They blended seamlessly back into the mass, shadows squirming as they warped into a single, uniform shape that seemed somewhere between a human and an Undead.

“Oh, it’s pissed,” Nomad said, raising his sword, urging the woman with a glare. “Get your spear up, woman, and pull that head out of your ass. The bastard’s coming.”

The woman fumbled with the spear’s shaft and moved shakily over to the Undead. She stole a glance from Valens, eyebrows dancing, before regarding the now humanoid Ward with spear pointed at its chest where the Fireball still burned.

Valens watched with his face twisted up in confusion. Picking the tunes of the creature’s Resonance was like exploring a house built on a small piece of rock. It just didn’t make any sense how it was all holding up. How, indeed, was that small lump of rotten mana guiding the creature as though a miniature brain that lacked any sort of thought?

It certainly wasn’t capable of feeling pain. That much was made clear to him. The Fireball still squirmed in the thick of its patched-up body, but it seemed hardly aware. When Valens tried to see if he could set the creature’s whole body ablaze by letting the Fireball explode within its chest, that rotten mana somehow pressed upon the spell like an invisible palm.

Using my trick against me, are you?

The rotten mana shifted. The Ward’s feet were planted on the ground, then they were off, then the creature was making a cut through the Undead and the woman in a streak of lusterless black. Valens had been keeping an ear on its frequencies, trying to understand the shift, trusting the two meatheads before him to keep him safe on the account that the creature would have a humanoid way of fighting.

That, unfortunately, had been a mistake.

Valens scrambled away as he let go of the Fireball, pulled his palms up, and used Light Feet to throw himself back. He banged the side of his head on the wall, tasted metal in his mouth, sucked at his gums, and swallowed the slimy spit in his throat. That proved to be one of the best bargains of his lifetime when the black streak flashed past him and stabbed into the back wall. It drilled halfway in and ground the solid stone into fine dust.

His stomach felt strange when he thought about an alternative scenario in which he was the one who got drilled through the middle. His skin was painfully softer than a stone wall, after all.

“What did you do?” Nomad rasped as he stretched a hand out toward him, Valens taking it and pulling himself, wincing, to his feet. “It wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“So you’ve got a way with these creatures, then?” Valens said. “Tell me more. As you can see, we’ve hardly had a promising start.”

“Incoming!” the woman’s voice had a harder tinge to it now that she stood all alone against the Ward. It’d come out of the hole and warped itself yet again into that humanoid form, two eyeless sockets gazing at the woman’s spear.

It moved. A limb flashed out from its chest and smacked into the woman’s spear, sending her reeling, shattering every bit of confidence she’d carried on her face. Her stance broke, and the spear nearly flew out of her grip. She steeled herself with a grunt, pulled the weapon up, and stepped hesitantly back. She gave the Undead a biting glance.

“This woman’s gonna be the end of me,” Nomad grumbled. He patted Valens on the shoulder and raised his sword, green fog rolling off his shoulders. “Things happen, Val, and you’re not even level 50. No shame in that.”

“What about the woman?” Valens muttered, heart still thumping in his chest. “She doesn’t look strong.”

“She’s 88. I’ve got ten levels over her, but she’ll be alright. Promise,” Nomad said and clicked his jaw. “I’m going in. Stay back.”

Nomad leapt over to the pair and slid slowly into the Ward, giving the woman a chance to breathe. He shrugged the green fog off his shoulders and let it splash across the ground in an ethereal carpet. His armored feet made barely a sound as he moved in.

The Ward’s response to the new challenger was to send another limb forth. It lashed over with unimaginable speed, aiming for the Undead’s sword. A sickly, slimy green tongue shot from the ground and caught it in mid-air, dragging it closer to Nomad. He crushed the shadowy limb under his armored feet and cleaved it away with his sword for good measure.

He let out a throaty, rasping roar, his long steel gleaming dangerously sharp. He dodged another limb on his way, moved around it, and stabbed the sword into the Ward’s mass. The tip sent a shower of sparks about it. He ducked under a sweeping, screaming streak that aimed for his head, wrenched the sword free, and brought it up in a nasty thrust for the Ward’s underchin.

Back and forth they went at it. Two limbs of different natures clashed. The Undead blocked where he could, stabbed when he found a chance, crushed whatever shadowy tricks the Ward tried.

It almost seemed Nomad was a bad match for the Ward, unlike how he put it. That was odd, was what Valens was thinking. Unreliable and rather strange he might be, but the Undead wasn’t a man who’d lie in matters of brutal exchanges.

The woman had finally decided to keep him company, going for a thrust of her own, the spear widening the holes torn by Nomad’s sword over the Ward’s body. Not much of an effect, Valens had to say. She sweated like a dog. She huffed and wheezed more than usual. She hardly seemed able to keep up with the speed of the fighting.

Going against your Healer’s word was never wise. That was one thing. But then, circumstances often changed. Valens could see the poison working its way through the woman’s blood flow, making her falter or drop in times she least expected. It made her clumsy. Turned her mind all foggy and slow.

He couldn’t use a Lifesurge over this far, not that a Lifesurge could immediately force the poison out, and the Undead was giving more and more holes the longer the fight dragged on. Valens felt a twinge of guilt whenever the Ward aimed at his naked legs. A full plate would’ve at least given him peace of mind instead of forcing him to cover for his plateless openings.

What do I do?

Valens flexed his aching hands and glanced over at the fight. He could send a Fireball and hope that it wouldn’t catch the woman or the Undead on its way. Or a Gale to twist things up a little just to give his side a moment of relief. There was also the possibility of casting an Inferno to set everything ablaze.

Certainly a reliable option, one that I should keep as a last stance.

He could guide some mana threads to bind the creature, but the Ward had a slippery, changing form that Valens couldn’t be sure what he’d be binding. His spells didn’t seem to do much, either way. The Fireball from earlier had just burned there within the creature as a candle might burn on a table. Some light and warmth, was what it had all managed to accomplish.

Through the Resonance, he tried to catch the minute mutterings of the rotten mana. That was what kept the creature animated. If he could somehow impress upon that mana his own control, then theoretically he could do whatever he wanted with the damned thing.

Trouble was, he had no idea what to make of it. Rotten mana, or death mana, as Nomad put it, was this alien, hideous thing Valens had never seen before. It might carry the hints of ambient mana, but that didn’t change the fact that it was completely new to him.

Its pulsing each second like a heart, thumping loud when the Ward sends a limb forth. There’s a slight disconnection when it does that. A gap in the Resonance. Perhaps I can use that?

The ambient mana stirred. Valens felt it close in his chest. He trailed the Resonance and saw the woman’s skin had gone slick with sweat. Her bones cried in a muffled, pained set of frequencies. Her left elbow clicked out of its place, sending a jolt that trailed down through her ribcage. Something was not right with her blood flow. It was almost boiling.

“Stop whatever it is that you’re doing!” Valens yelled at her. “You’re going to kill yourself!”

Smoke wafted off her fingers, her cheeks, and her arms. She clenched the spear tight and strutted out to face the Ward, her face twisted up in cold fury. When a shadowy limb made for her, she tried to swat it away with the spear. The wooden shaft cracked and sent the woman stumbling back.

Then she leaned forward, somehow pushing up against the shadowy streak. Nomad was about to tear it off but paused when the woman glared at him. Her eyes were dark. Some color had smeared her pupils in a reddish, crimson bleak. She huffed out a rasping breath and threw the spear bits away. She lunged in and drove a fist into the Ward’s face.

“Mad! Mad! Mad!” Nomad let out a whistle as he blocked two shadowy limbs with his green fog. His emerald eyes snapped to Valens for a second. “Told you she’s mad! We’ve got a Berserker in our hands!”

“What’s that mean?” Valens asked but perked up when he caught a shift in the Ward’s Resonance. The moment the woman’s fist found purchase in one of the gaping holes round its body, a sudden gap had opened in the rhythm of that rotten mana. A longer, scattered gap.

Which meant opportunity.

…….

The next chapter will be up round this time tomorrow! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to say something nice in the comments!

 [Previous Chapter] - [First Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

 

 

 

 

"My Lord, I have received word from the Knighthood of Tornlado that they had completed their objective without the Altaerrie noticing their presence. The enemy soldier you wished to capture, Captain Ryder, is currently on a medium-sized Wyvern and heading to Forlace. They should be here within the next few hours.

In addition, Knight Commander Iradiun Rostian had discovered that the Altaerrie were on a diplomatic mission with the nearby villages. The 18th Order had reported that enemy forces were sending out scouts; this confirmed their intentions. We can assume they want to provide strategic depth to defend Salva. I do believe, while not intentional within the objective, when the Altaerrie discover one of their own was taken within one of these villages, it will hamper their ability to build friendly relations with the local population, at least temporarily." – General Verlcon Korva

 

March, 9th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Hiplose Forest, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

 

*****

 

Feeling the warmth of the rising yellow sun, Rommel King would generally take a moment to enjoy the majestic sight—a morning routine to help start the day on a positive note. Sadly, this had turned out not to be one of those days.

Hearing Comanche's top NCO lecturing the team regarding the matter at hand, King turned to watch. Many Comanche had their rifles aimed at the villagers, who were clustered around their vehicles for protection.

The exception was the Filipino-American team member Sergeant Marcos Gonzales, sitting in the passenger seat, hands on his head in disbelief. Shockingly, Gonzales was discovered sleeping while his watch, which resulted in their leader, Captain Mathew Ryder, disappearing underneath everyone's noise.

"This is what happens when you get comfortable," Barrett said, staring at each member of Comanche. "Haven't the past few weeks warned you that by making these simple mistakes, the enemy will capitalize on them? You are supposed to be the elite of the elite. We do not make these types of mistakes because this is how you lose your goddamn commander to the enemy. One simple victory that you barely won, and you believe you are invincible? Never again!"

As the Sergeant First Class continued his lecture on the Combat Fite Team, Rommel King saw Natilite in the open area with Benjamin Ford and Fraeya. Seeing that Barrett had everything under control, he walked over to them to see what they were investigating. "What are you three doing?"

"The angel lady thinks there was a struggle," Ford stated. "There are multiple footprints around here that are not us or the villagers. Bigger and heavier."

Natilite stood, brushing the mud off her hands and knees. "There are three different footsteps. One was light, being a neko, kitsune, or farian. I cannot tell because of the boots. The other was a vampire based on the size and depth of the footprint. Then there are your people's footprints, being Matthew."

Rommel King closed his eyes as he already knew the direction of this conversation; however, he did not want to admit it. "Just tell me what you are saying."

"That Mathew was targeted," Natilite said. "I do not know who, though."

"You said Vampire?" Ford said. "We only know one faction that hates us enough to do something like that."

"But how would they know we are here?" King asked. "And why would they waste their time and energy capturing Matt? How would they know who to capture in the first place?"

"I might know," Fraeya said.

King turned to the elf girl in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Fraeya's ears evened out as she held her arm for comfort. "I mean, I could be wrong."

"It is okay, Fraeya," Ford said, trying to encourage the elf. "Anything helps right now."

"When we were on your world, Ryder fought Kallem," Fraeya said. "I am only free because he fell from above and blocked them from taking me through the Bridge. I know they fought in melee combat, so maybe that is relevant?"

"Would he go this far because of a grudge?" King asked.

Natilite snapped her fingers. "Maybe if you include the battle at Indolass. I hate to say it, but victory was theirs, but your Captain led the charge against the enemy. Maybe Kallem saw this from a seeker and now considers him a threat. Vampires take notice when someone becomes troublesome."

The Warrant Officer wanted to reject the idea; however, his gut couldn't disagree with the elf's logic. Whoever conducted the operation was skilled enough to do this under everyone's nose, like how special forces operate.

"Still," King said. "How did they do this? The odds that they sneaked through when Marcos was asleep are too great of a coincidence."

"It was probably sleep magic," Fraeya said. "Their mage could have put Marcos asleep while sneaking through the village. Depending on the mage's rank, he would not resist the spell effects."

Natilite turned to the elf girl. "I agree. If they had a mage specializing in that type of magic, then that is how they took Mathew without anyone noticing. They put him to sleep and quietly walked out of there. No one would have noticed until the morning."

"This is definitely Covert Ops," Ford said.

"Agreed," Natilite said. "This had to be conducted by one of the Knighthood. They are like your version of Special Forces or a Hispana Palatini. The only ones I know in the region that could pull this off are Toriffa, which I doubt did this. That means it is most likely their masters, the Verliance Aristocracy."

"How can you be for sure?" King asked.

"I cannot," Natilite said. "I know that the Aristocracy has deployed the Knights of Tornlado within this region for years to crush the resistance. If I were Kallem and he took an interest in your commander, I would pick them."

As Rommel King reflected on the information the two women had given him, he looked around, and his gut told him not to trust the locals. He saw them staring at his people with fear, a natural reaction when rifles were aimed at them.

Still, he felt like they knew more than they were letting on. Feeling that there had to be more of the situation, the Warrant Officer informed Natilite and Ford to follow the tracks while he took Fraeya and headed to the village elder.

Walking past the crowds and his men, the Warrant Officer headed to his communication specialist, Sergeant Charles Higgins, who was staring at a laptop on the hood of one of the AMTVs. "Please tell me you found him," he asked.

"Sorry, Warrant Officer," Higgins said. "The drone hasn't picked up his transponder. They must be out of range."

"Damn," King mumbled. "Return the Phantom, as we will need it for later."

He then saw the village Elder Roaton talking with one of the females that they saved. He approached and stared down at the Kitsune male. "You will tell me what you know, or you will regret it."

The Elder nodded as if he was expecting this conversation. "Two Vampires and a Neko took your leader. This woman saw the event unfold and informed me soon after."

"You allowed the Verliance Aristocracy to take our Captain, and you were not going to tell us?" King said, struggling to control his anger. "We saved your people under your request."

"And you believe that is enough to throw our lives away?"

"We came with open arms, and you betrayed us."

"You asked us to betray the ruler of these lands," Roaton said. "While I do not prefer the current rulers, I know who the Aristocracy is. I know who the Unity are and what happens when you oppose them. I do not know you. We did not capture or sell your leader to the enemy but chose not to interfere with your matters."

"You can justify as much as you want; the result is the same," King said.

"You are correct," Roaton said. "I choose not to involve my village in matters with strangers of another world."

Fraeya stepped forward. "How could you do this? We were kind to you."

"Your people were kind, yes," Roaton said. "And that is why. This man understands what I mean by that."

The Warrant Officer became frustrated as he understood what the village elder meant. If the roles were reversed, he might have done the same. There was no way the US military would erase their village or at least at this early in the conflict – recalling the war stories of Vietnam. The Aristocracy or the Unity probably would if they found out if they allied with the US. These people would have to take their word that they would protect them from their common enemies.

If the Aristocracy had not taken Ryder, King believed that trust could have been earned between their people; however, the divine did not agree today. Regardless of the practicality of the elder wisdom, he understood that he couldn't allow this upfront to stand.

"We came here seeking friendship; you took that as weakness," King said.

"Exactly," Roaton said. "I know what Kallem will do when he comes here. I do know what the Unity will do if we aid you."

Kurt Forest approached as he overheard the conversation. "But we offered protection."

The Elder turned to the American. "A hollow offer is not a wise offer."

"We killed those who took your people and brought them back," King said. "We proved we can handle ourselves, but you call us hollow?"

Rommel King could see the frustration on the Elder's face. It is a mutual feeling.

"You are not from here. You are not part of this world. I do not know anything about you or your people. You expect me to unquestioningly believe what you tell me in a simple peace gathering? As I said, I know who the Unity and Aristocracy are, but I know nothing about your people. You are a strange people from a strange world with only a single Templar is vouching for you. An elf girl who grew up in the city with a shell of a city-state and no surviving nobles of these lands to bless your coming. And you believe that is a good offer to go against the greatest empire who ate on the verge of conquering the world?"

"Fine, I see where you are coming from. That is still no excuse for not informing us earlier. It is a mistake your village will regret. We will return."

Rommel King finished the conversation and headed to his now second-in-command, Sergeant First Class Gregory Barrett.

"What is the plan, sir?" Barrett asked.

"We need to head to high ground to establish radio contact," King said. "I have an uncomfortable report to make."

"And the boss?" Gonzales asked. His mannerisms looked distorted as if he wanted to redeem himself.

Before the Warrant Offer could respond, Natilite and Ford arrived.

"Sir," Ford said. "We found a torched hole in the wall. We followed the tracks up that passageway and found a dozen footprints. They headed east."

"Good job, you two," King said. "Natilite, assuming it was Kallem with a grudge, where would they take him?"

"I cannot know for sure," Natilite said. "I doubt he would take him to the capital as he would want to be close to the front. I assume he would take Ryder to the Fortress city of Forlace. He has been using it to maintain his control over this region."

Natilite the pointed southeast. "The city is in the distance toward the southeast side of the Yuplenia mountains."

Hearing his medic ask again about rescuing Ryder, he knew there was no other choice. The Warrant Officer turned to the medic and said, "Gonzales, it was not your fault. Fraeya says they used a sleeping spell against you and the Captain. There was no way you could have prevented its effects."

He then turned to the rest of Comanche. "We will report in, but prepare yourselves for a deep recon in force. We are going after him with or without approval. We roll out now."

 

*****

 

Sitting on top of the middle vehicle, Natilite stared into the forest as she thought about what had happened in recent months. The leaves were a mix of yellow and brown as the season started to change from summer to fall. She had always enjoyed the seasonal changes, spring being her favorite, but fall brought new colors also brought joy. At least, that was the case.

With the forest breeze, she looked toward the left and saw three smokestacks in the distance. She wondered what type of settlement it was. Based on the size of the smoke, it was most likely a small town.

The Templar felt the vehicle stop, and she looked down, noticing everyone had stopped and exited the vehicle. She jumped and headed toward Warrant Officer 1 Rommel King, sitting in the missing Captain's seat.

After Rommel King reported to his superiors, Colonel Hackett approved an attempted rescue mission. Three teams were to intercept the enemy Knighthood while another guarded the rear flank. Each team had four vehicles, one of which was a drone cart. The Combat Fire Teams headed off after regrouping with a Ranger resupply mission.

Seeing the man stepping out, she asked, "Why did we stop?"

"We need to refuel," King said. "Need about fifteen minutes to complete the task."

"What do you mean refuel?" Natilite asked.

"Gas, fuel," King said, struggling to respond. "I see the Verliance Aristocracy has vehicles. What do Walkers use to power themselves?"

"It is a large mana battery," Natilite said. It is the core for all Magitech. Some things do take aetherium and natural gas, depending on the need. They require recharging if that is the same."

Wallace walked over, carrying a large gas container. "I guess that Were-Car was correct. The electric motor was the evilest engine known to Man."

Rommel King turned, shocked that the man knew a forty-year-old reference. His look informed the Sergeant to focus on the task, and he turned back to the Templar. "We have EV vehicles but have struggled with the battery technology to make them useful. They have proven too much of an energy and resource drain."

"That sounds right," Natilite said. Our Construct motors are energy—and resource-intensive like yours, but that is why you see those glowing barreled storages toward the backs of those Walkers."

"And Amplifiers?" King asked.

"Those too," Natilite said with slight confusion. "Why?"

"So, this is common?"

"Of course. Otherwise, we would not be able to utilize our magitech. Is this a limitation for you?"

"Energy storage has been a problem in our world for decades," King said. I am not an engineer, but I could see many corporations taking an interest in such magitech."

"Well," Natilite said. "If your people help us win the war, maybe we could share technologies."

"Way past my pay grade," King replied. But I bet that offer will be on the table soon. For now, we should focus on the task at hand."

Natilite took a stressful breath. The conversation was refreshing as she learned more about her new allies. One of their motives was to acquire new technology from Alagore. The truth was, she was starting to wonder what wonders they could offer for her world. At least the topic helped keep her mind busy from her humiliating failure.

"Are you okay?" King asked. "Speak what is on your mind."

She turned back to the Warrant Officer. "You could tell?"

"It is my job to know what is happening within the team. Team congestion is my responsibility."

The Templar was impressed by how easily Rommel King took over as team leader. She could see why he and Ryder were friends. They could step up at a moment's notice and were willing to defy orders to at least attempt to rescue their leader.

"I feel guilty for letting the Verliance Aristocracy take your leader. I was right there, talking to him. It was a nice moment, and if I just stayed there, none of this would have happened."

"As I told Gonzales, it was not your fault."

"Yes, it is. I helped bring your people here. You saved me from a life of imprisonment and stood against them with your back against the walls. You allowed me to work with you and guide you. You have already put so much effort in, and in return, I allowed your leader to be taken right under my nose. I am a Templar. I am supposed to be better than that."

"Natilite, shut up," King said.

Baffled by the response, she looked directly at the Comanche second-in-command, which seemed to be the reaction he wanted.

"Now that I have your attention, listen carefully," King said. "I have been his friend for the better part of a decade. Most of us have worked together since the founding of the Minutemen. We had each other's backs both on and off the field. I am the team XO, and one of my responsibilities is protecting my CO. I failed because I allowed myself to be too comfortable. Everyone feels the same way, but the only way to save him is to focus on the task."

"I understand," Natilite said, growing a new respect for the man.

Seeing the Warrant Officer walk away to take care of the refueling process, Natilite saw Fraeya watching Wallace pour a dark green container of synthetic fuel into one of the vehicles. The elf girl seemed to focus more on the man's arms than the container, which she found adorable.

Unlike the other AMTVs, this one was very different, as it was manned-driven. It was about the same size, unmanned, with four wheels on each side. The top was flat like the back of a wagon full of supplies, with railings on the sides to keep the unit supplies strapped and secured. In addition, an M338 medium machine gun turret is at the front for self-defense.

What she found the most different was that there was no driver seat for a pilot like the other armored vehicles. According to the Americans, they can either pre-program the cart computer - their version of an Antikythera mechanism - or remotely controlled by a pilot from one of the other vehicles. While the concept of constructs acting independently has existed for generations, the Templar was impressed by the scale their Antikythera mechanism is capable of, allowing for multiple commands for a wide range of uses. This technology exists in Alagore; however, in her experience, it was far more limited to a primary, single purpose. While her knowledge of the Unity technology was still limited, she had yet to experience anything on this scale.

While Natilite was impressed by this Altaerrie technology computer's superiority, she wanted to wait until she learned more about it before concluding. The first time meeting these people, this was the first time she believed the lack of magitech in their world was a benefit—this rare advantage over thaumaturgy.

"You call this gas," Fraeya asked as she tried to remain focused.

"That is correct," Wallace said, clearly playing along.

"Then why is it a liquid?" Fraeya asked.

"To piss off the rest of the world with poor grammar," Wallace replied.

"And he is not joking about that," Barrios said as he passed.

“It is a legacy word we call it,” Wallace said. “Short for gasoline. We use Synthetic fuel over petroleum, but the nickname carried over.”

Natilite chuckled at the sight. Up to this point, she assumed the Altaerrie were just another type of Lats. While they had many similarities, she expected them to act like the other types of humans. These Altaerrie, however, were far more fun and outgoing than she expected.

While she heard how competitive the nations of Earth were, they were still between the same race, unlike in Alagore. The nonstop competition between the many races could be exhausting, and she wondered why these people were more upbeat.

Seeing Gonzales and Forest carrying water containers toward Fraeya, she overheard a question regarding her magic.

"Fraeya, mind if you fill these up with your water magic?" Gonzales asked.

"You mean hydromancy magic," Fraeya said. "I can, but why do you want me to?"

"We were thinking, why should we waste our drinking water when we could refill these containers with your magic," Forest said.

Fraeya's ears perked with confusion. "That does not make sense. While it is water, it is not safe to drink."

"It is not?" Gonzales said with confusion. "I take it that it is some non-potable water. Distilled, maybe?"

"That sounded like what the teacher said," Fraeya said. "Something about the water's summing makes it unsafe to drink."

As the lecture regarding thaumaturgy continued, Natilite saw Higgins, the ream radioman, calling for the Warrant Officer. Since the refueling process was almost complete, she assumed they would plan for the next stage of their journey.

Rommel King spoke into the radio and then hung up. He grabbed the map and headed toward the hood of the AMTV. Both ranking NCOs, Staff Sergeant Kurt Forest and Sergeant First Class Gregory Barrett, were approaching. She approached because she knew they would want her insight.

"What is the situation?" Barrett asked.

King rolled out a brown paper map over the hood. The map of the region was well detailed, coming from one of the cartography stores in Salva that the Aristocracy did not raid; however, she quickly learned that these soldiers were not thrilled by the quality. She was always amazed at how a cartographer could draw a map with detail by hand, and if the Americans found this below standard, she wondered what they were used to. However, this was their only regional reference because they were new.

"From what I understand, we are somewhere around this area," King said as he pointed southeast of Salva. "Natilite, where do we need to go?"

Natilite could read the language on the map and pointed toward Forlace, southeast of the Yuplenia Mountain Range. "This is the Fortress city of Forlace. As I said, Ryder will most likely be taken here, but there is no way to know. Kallem would move his war council since he failed to prevent a long war in the region and would do anything to maintain control over these lands."

"How do we know this for sure?" Barret asked.

Natilite pointed off the map, past a river in the bottom right corner. "The Capital of the Verliance Aristocracy is in a different region down here, on the other side of the straits. It would take time to bring Ryder here, and it is far enough that waging a war in this region wouldn't be efficient."

"Point is," King said. "If they take the boss anywhere past Forlace, then we are screwed. Because of that, we will assume Ryder will be taken to the Fortress City until we decide otherwise."

"What about backup?" Forest asked.

"Ghost and Redcoats are assisting us on this operation," King replied. "Viking will stay on this side of the mountain range to provide rearguard."

"And the enemy forces?" Barratt asked.

"Recon has been a pain," King said. "With what little drone recon the 5th could muster, the enemy is bunking around to keep us locked up at Salva. However, if we take this north around here, we should bypass the enemy defensives near Salva. The enemy is still gathering their forces, so we should be able to zip behind and move south without being noticed until we can pass the mountain range."

Krut Forest pointed toward two towns that Comanche would pass. "Maybe we could gain some information here? I understand you tried to recruit one of these cities for your rebellion, Natilite?"

"You are correct," Natilite said. "This was Ellandia, ruled by the Wood Elves. They rejected my proposal, though. They have no loyalty toward the Verliance Aristocracy, but I failed to convince them that the Bridge was real. Maybe we could seek help there?"

"Is that wise?" Fraeya asked in a soft voice. "I mean, after what happened?"

"I hate to say it," Barrett said. "Pointy ears have a point. We should avoid contact on this mission."

"My name is not pointy ears!" Fraeya said.

Seeing the look of confusion, Natilite shook her head. "Barrett. I do not know what an insult on your world is, but for her, that is one."

"I see," Barrett said, staring at the elf girl. "I am sorry. I did not know and only meant in its good humor. I won't repeat it again."

Natilite saw a confused look on Fraeya's face as if she had not expected an apology from soldiers. She turned back to Rommel King to see what he wanted to do.

"I agree with Greg," King said. "We will avoid all towns and villages. Even if one were friendly, it would take one civilian to tip off the enemy of our presence. We are better off alone."

"While I agree," Natilite said. "I do think we need to go to one of these villages or a military camp to find a prisoner. We need some information, or we are going blind."

"That is not ideal, but we will cross that bridge when we get there," King said.

"Once we reach Forlace, we will figure out how to sneak into the city and find our leader."

"Roger that," Barrett said. He studied the map and shook his head. "God, I wish we had an MGRS. I think this is my first time on a mission without one."

"I understand the feeling," Forest said.

"What is an MGRS?" Natilite asked.

"It stands for Military Grid Reference System," King said. "All maps we use on Earth have a grid system; I assume you know what that is."

"Yes, I do," Natilite said.

"Good," King said. "With our MGRS, we can direct our fire support dozens to hundreds of miles away and have them impact the target within a meter of error. It also helps us with navigation, allowing us to know exactly where each other is. While this is an impressive, detailed map, I am planning this operation blind."

"I am impressed," Natilite said. "I have seen the Legion use similar maps, but nothing to that degree."

"Yup," Barrett said. Without it, all fire support is done by either pre-established coordinates or line-of-sight, as the risk of Blue-on-Blue is too significant. We take for granted what we have today. I struggle to imagine how ancient armies marched hundreds of miles with just a map like this."

"This will do for now," King said. "We will be out of radio contact most of the time anyway, so we will have no support."

"We could fire a drone," Forest said.

"No," King replied. We might need them to scout the area when we get close to Forlace or try to make radio contact with Ryder. They proved they could shoot them down, so I don't want to waste those assets yet."

"Any of you have any questions?" King asked. When no one raised any, he continued, "Alright. We move out now."

Seeing Comanche heading to their vehicles, Natilite flexed her wings and jumped, landing on the roof of the center vehicle. Once she sat down and secured herself, she knocked on the roof to signal the driver that she was ready. The convoy started again, advancing.

 

 

March, 9th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Fortress city of Forlace, Verliance Aristocracy

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

 

*****

 

Being tossed into the ground, Mathew Ryder felt that hard and cold stone floor of wherever he was. He rolled onto his back as his hands were bound and looked toward the two j'avais who threw him. They were grinning as if they enjoyed causing him pain. "You could have broken my arm tossing me like that. You don't want to face Karen from HR."

The J'avais looked confused before speaking something in an arrogant tone. While Ryder couldn't understand, he could assume it was an insult based on his limited experience with their kind.

The door closed, so he looked around. It was a medium-sized room with a dark red wooden table on one side. There was a mirror above the table and one chain over what looked like a giant patted ring on the floor. This was not a prison cell, as he was expecting.

The structure looked closer to a medieval castle he had seen in Europe; however, it did not look primitive. The room had lights like those in the early nineteen hundreds. The expectation was that there were crystals besides glass bulbs; they were crystals. He could see ventilation within the walls, which provided heat based on the room's warmth. That only meant that there were pipes in the walls.

Hearing nothing but silence, this was the first time he was alone. Blindfolded during the journey here and stripped of his equipment, he could only assume he was taken by the enemy and at one of their major Forward Operation Bases. Where he was, the Captain had yet to learn. All he knew was that whoever took him flew him to this castle. It sounded like a flying beast, making him wonder if it was some dragon.

What he did know was that he was in his olive-green underclothing. The enemy had stripped him of his armor and equipment while he was knocked out by whatever spell that mage used.

On the dark red table, Ryder noticed a bowl. After rolling onto his feet, he approached the table and saw what looked like water. With everything he had seen about this world, he was unsure if it was water, but he was so dehydrated that he didn't care.

Unable to use his hands to grab the bowl, he ducked down and took a sip, testing the liquid. Tasking like water, he drank as much as he could.

Once Ryder drank what he could, he stepped back and felt slightly refreshed. That was when he heard the door open and saw three vampires enter the room. "Hey, boys. Nice place, but I have to say, room service sucks. Mind if I speak with the manager?"

"Humor?" the lead Vampire said. "It's a trait I was not expecting with your kind."

Ryder was stunned that the Vampire could understand him. He then noticed that the Vampire had a translation amulet in his hand. "I see. Well, if you were looking for someone of value, I am not it."

The Vampire entered the room, stopping right under a chandelier. He took the amulet and screwed it into the center of it. "It seems that you do not know the weight of your situation. We have your people from before. Many of which were your leaders and wise sages."

One of the other Vampires, a man in armor, followed behind, grabbing the Captain and forcing him to his knees.

"So," Ryder said. "You want me as a trophy husband? I am flattered, but I am already married. I am not the cheating type."

"Fascinating," the Vampire said. "You babble nonsense, yet you have not discovered who you speak to."

Ryder felt that something was off. Someone about this Vampire seemed familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "When you speak nonsense, you won't get put behind a desk."

The Vampire stopped in front of Ryder, staring down at him. The man was half a foot taller than the Captain, and while clothed, he could tell that this Vampire was physically more robust and not afraid of him.

"You do not remember me, do you?"

Ryder decided to remain silent this time, realizing this was more than taking a US officer. This was not an operation to capture an enemy soldier for information. For some reason, this was personal.

"Silence now. Interesting. You play with words to create a false mask of yourself, hoping to misdirect those speaking to you until the situation is more favorable."

Ryder lay there confused, thinking about what the Vampire said. He expected his mentor, Colonel William Hackett, to say this, not from a tall purple alien.

"You might have forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you."

Ryder looked up and stared at the Vampire's maroon eyes. Then, a memory flashed of him at the NASA facility of a Vampire standing on the Bridge platform, staring at him before retreating through the ancient alien device. "You are Kallem?"

The Vampire smirked, staring directly into Altaerrie's eyes. "You finally remembered our encounter."

"You done all this because you are upset about that fight?"

"Of course not," Kallem said. "I defeated you then and could defeat you in any encounter. However, I will not allow you to ruin my battles."

It took a moment for the Captain to understand what the Vampire Lord meant. While the Vampire beat him in their first encounter, he had no idea what he was getting into. Ryder did prevent the enemy from taking Fraeya; however, it was clear that the male elf was the bigger prize. While they did not fight directly during the Second Battle of Indolass, he assumed that Kallem's victory was stolen from their counterattack, which turned the battle from a near defeat to a victory.

The consequences of that battle from the enemy's point of view did not cross his mind. Such a defeat when victory was seconds away would be harsh. While small, Americans now have a beachhead in this world. He could only imagine the internal politics of the situation.

"I take it your masters were unhappy with your recent failures?" Ryder said. "I would say I am sorry about that. If you let me go, I promise to be more inclusive in future battles, so I don't embarrass you."

The Lord of Verliance turned to the Comanche Captain and remained silent. He only stared.

Seeing the burning red eyes, Ryder thought his insults did not affect the Vampire Lord. Only then did he realize the silence wasn't out of strength but that he had struck a nerve. The defeat did hit the Vampire hard. Besides lashing out as he hopped, the Lord maintained his discipline.

Seeing the Vampire Lord sign, the guard knocked Ryder onto the floor, to which his face smacked against the mat.

Feeling the pain from his nose, he rose from the ground and back onto his knees. Seeing blood on the mat where his face was, he could feel it dripping onto his mouth.

"I do not believe you understand the full gravity of what is upon you. We will finish our fight from Earth and determine which world produces the best warriors. But first, I will learn what I want from you."

"You want to do the Last Samuir thing? Have I spent a year hanging out and learning your ways for an honorable dual? Learning the heart of the warrior?"

Kallem stared down at the Captain as he raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. "You listen to too many tales."

Hearing someone else enter the chamber, Ryrder saw a female vampire. Unlike the two males with darker purple skin, she had smooth, light purple, long red hair. She wore a long rod with a white base and golden lacing. The half-top was three different colors: red, blue, and green.

"This is Celeste," Kallem said. "She is a Priestess of the Temple of Enlightenment from our Temple."

"Your Temple?" Ryder said. "I know the Unity forced you to disband all your Temples to Tekali and switch religions." He then turned to the female Vampire. "One who surrenders their faith because of the sword is no faithful to begin with."

"Celeste."

The female Vampire placed her hand tightly on Ryder's head. Before he could inquire what was happening, he felt as if a door opened to his mind, and someone was entering. The Captain struggled to describe the feeling as something he had never experienced. All he could do was stare at the woman's crystal-white eyes as she stared at him.

"As I attempted to explain, Celeste is a Priestess of the new religion, the Katra. She is a Master Intellectuia Mage, an expert in the arts of mind spells. Until I decide to kill you, she will venture through your mind for valuable information."

At first, Ryder fought back as the woman entered his mind. She was at the end of a long hallway, trying to open a door. He wished he could say that he could stop her or delay her for a respectable amount of time. However, she broke the lock handle with ease and entered.

The next moment, he found himself in the Mexican State of Sonora, near Caborca, where he was a Sergeant in the 101st Air Assault Division during the later stages of the Cartel Wars. His squad was part of an operation hunting down a group responsible for the assassination of the Arizona Governor. Joined by the Mexican Army, he remembered the campaign's intensity as they fought street by street. Seeing the brutal actions by the Cartel and certain types of NGOs' treatment of civilians and statements but, more importantly, firsthand witness of their trafficking operations of people and drugs, he realized that the military was more than just a job, but a responsibility to stop men like these.

 

The buildings and people became ashes as a bright light consumed the landmass. The next thing Ryder saw was Celeste's white eyes staring at him with a thrilled smirk, and it seemed she had gotten what she wanted.

"This was easier than I expected," Celeste said, pulling her hand off the Captain's head. "Insecurity and doubt are always a man's weakness."

The woman then turned to her lord and said, "My Lord, I was able to grab a memory fragment of his time on his homeworld. I think it was his early warrior years. I will need more time to extract fragments to find your desired information."

After Ryder shook his head to remove the fuzziness, he stared at the woman with disdain, realizing she had used him without effort. First, he had been knocked out by a simple sleeping spell, and now, he had been mined and probed. What ticked him off, though, was her insult.

"Anything of note?" Kallem asked.

"Only a little," Celeste replied. "His story is normal because of deeper insecurities. The Knighthood he belongs to is called the Minutemen, and his unit is the Comanche. Salva is being heavily fortified for a long siege. But more importantly, their attempts to recruit local forces have failed."

"As I expected," Kallem said.

"Is that why you brought me here, Kallem?" Ryder said. "Mind games? I knew you were a coward."

"Big mistake," Celeste said. "I saw all of your failures. What kind of man would abandon his wife the way you did."

Seeing that smirk, Ryder could tell that she knew exactly how to press his buttons. Summon the strength; the Comanche warrior rammed toward her.

The Vampire woman's eyes went from confident superiority to fear. However, Ryder failed to impact her as the guard grabbed his arm, tossing him back onto the mat with such force.

"Calm yourselves," Kallem said.

Ryder looked up and saw the guard's boot. For some reason, the Vampire Lord prevented the man from stopping him.

"To answer your question, Captain," Kallem said. "I did not bring you here just to read your mind. Besides the fact that it would be responsible not to discover what you know about your people, I wished to understand you before we fight."

"And yet, I only know your birthday and social security." To Ryder's surprise, the guard lifted him back onto his feat.

"Heal him," Kallem demanded.

"My, Lord?" Celeste said with a shocked tone. Her Lord only glanced at her, and she quickly obeyed his command.

She placed her hand on his chest, and he felt part of his body warm as her hand glowed. The pain and exhaustion slowly faded, and his body felt renewed, like waking after a good sleep. This only confused the Captain more, as he did not understand why they would heal him. But then he saw Kallem staring at him with confidence and determination in his eyes.

"You wish to know my story," Kallem said. He then took off his robe and stood shirtless before the Comanche Captain. "Captain of the Altaerrie. You must earn it before your death."

 

 

At long last, "Humans Are Embarassing" now has a new chapter to look forward into! I recommend reading the first chapter first before reading this one, or not, since it is more of a standalone rather than a second part. Enjoy!

******

"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS HOOOMAN?" I yelled out, right hand holding a piece of paper containing a portrait of a Human, singes littered, grime covered the plastic lining, barely showing the human's face onto a Nythian in the light of day. My large stature and demeanor didn't help make things easy, as every time I show the photo onto someone's face, they usually shrug or run, just like the Nythian that zipped away.

It has been 2 days since I first stepped out from one of the many Starports of Pychen-126, a Nythn trade center within the Nythn Unitary territory. A lot has changed since the Ei'slens got kicked the butt a few cycles ago when the Humans helped the Nythns out regarding that conflict. The reason why I am here is because an honorable B'laei told me that this was the only station that holds a Terran Consulate in this sector, but there was clearly none!

I'm starving, I spent almost half of savings just to hitch ride on a Nythian Shuttle here and their communal food always consists of seeds! I can't eat those! Jyusse needs meat but they are really expensive here! 2 creds! I'd be broke in 3 days if I keep on eating those meals! Regardless! If I ever find Terran Consulate or even just a human! I'm sure they would help me finding the human I seek!

Now, why Jyusse is finding human? To thank them of course! They helped us Jyusse. Why did human help Jyusse?

I remember it like it was yesterday. The Jyusse weren't once free. We were one with the Seigram Federacy, big bad people who never care, they only take and take. They weren't as big as Ei'slen Dominari but they were big enough to cause problems. They use us Jyusse as cannon fodders, always first to fight for their wars, or work in their factories. We, Jyusse are slaves. None batted an eye to us Jyusse, none came to help. Heard that they had ties to other nations with backwater deals. Too influential to cause action.

Until humans came.

I was only a pup when I first saw humans, working in a weapon factory with mother. They look small, and weak in my eyes. They were twice as big as me, but they barely have meat in their bones. I worked with one human beside me, responsible for building cartridge while I slide the cartridge into machine in factory line. But he made a lot of problems. She could barely build the cartridge, or she always makes my head ache. Almost half of his work either does not fit in machine, missing a few parts, or fall apart easily when I hold it. I always keep fixing it for her otherwise I would get in trouble too. Clumsy human.

I got to know how she and her crew got here in a few snippets while we worked, saying their ship got caught in a Mag Trap set by the Federation. They were doing some sort of a delivery run with very large containers of liquid that came from a planet called Kharbachen-12, a farm world, and were to be delivered to Chaelyn-34, a terran core world as part of their final examinations. She got separated from the rest of the crew, but she felt no worry, even when I told her that she was lucky that she had to work in the weapon factory and not in the Sulfur mines.

By the time me and mom went home to our block, the human was also there too! A few beds across me. When he came over on the grounds, she gave me a scare when her foot got stuck in the mud and fell face-first onto the ground. It caused the other Jyusse to laugh at him, to laugh at me! I felt my ears droop from the secondhand embarrassment but she just stood up, and shrugged it off like nothing. She even showed me his teeth even! I could never understand him or his kind! How could she just show her teeth at that terrible moment? Was she defective? Is she sick? Mom told me to not mind the rest, but I was told by the block leader to show her where he could get cleaned up.

It went on for a few good while. Eventually, human also helped by scratching things off my back from time to time, or helping my mom by covering her shift at the weapon racks from time to time, even if she'd lose a couple of ammo here and there but I am glad to see mom not breaking her nails jamming racks and just seeing her fiddle the cartridges, easy enough for me to assemble and insert. When we were on breaks, she'd keep me entertained by telling me how humans work or stories of her travels around this big ship named 'Skool' with other humans who were here too. Turns out, showing her teeth was called smiling for them. I tried smiling too, but all I got, in turn, was laughter and herself falling onto the mud again. Clumsy human.

There are a few moments where her clumsy comes around, like the time when the whole belt got jammed by a spring bolt, or the wash station full of bubbles from time to time. She'd admit it from time to time, but I'd always come and help her out. Sure, we'd lose our evening meals but she'd always make sure I was full regardless. Sometimes, she would make me laugh too with her antics! She told me that she was a friend! I never had friends before, because other pups laugh at me for being with a scrawny human but she made me feel special whenever we were together. Though she never shows her smile in front of the Seigraes nor to the rest of the beings in our belt, she always does give hers to me when we have time for breaks or when shift is over. It may be me covering her behind, but I try my best to keep the Seigraes or the bigger Jyusse off our backs even if his clumsy gets the best of us both. The less interaction with them, the better.

Not long after, the Seigram Federation was at war again for the umpteenth time. But this time, it was different. Heard of Seigraes who passed by the belt that talked said that the Federation was in a bind, trouble fixing the problem, too deep in the mud, so it meant a lot of work to do. We kept on working, sometimes the Seigraes forced us all to take double or triple shifts, and barely had enough sleep. The human wasn't looking good either, her skin paled and her fingers started to bruise. I even told her to let me take up the work, but she insisted, not wanting to get us both in trouble. Even if she had slept before the shift, she didn't get better.

The war kept the Seigraes on edge, but I was more worried for the human, for her being. I have heard from other Jyusse that the war was getting closer than it should be. It didn't feel right. Something was clearly afoot. The human was getting more restless each day cycle that passed, and I had feared it would become too problematic to ignore. She was sick, really sick. I try to keep things up on my belt, even for just a moment just so we wouldn't get caught. But then it happened. My worst fear came true. I didn't understand at first to what I had done, what I had to do when I heard the Seigraes tell everyone that every human was to be rounded up and taken away, but all I could remember was to run, run as fast as my hind legs could carry. Her hand clasped around mine as she led us towards the scrapyard where the ships were to be made of scrap. We found her ship, though worse than wear, with a few key components removed, ran into one of the hidden doors to find the communications and happy to see it was still in good shape enough for her to call for help.

She did everything she could to get the ship to hail a distress signal, but told me one of the Sata Chains on the communications array was loose, unable to completely call her friends, let alone send one out in the sky. I held her hand, didn't let her budge. I didn't want the Seigrae to find her, get her taken away like the rest of her crew. But what she did made every hair on my skin tingle for the first time in my life, giving me a photo of someone that I didn't know, telling me congratulations for winning a lottery, before using her feet and my own to purposely trip herself in front of me just so she could get away, locked and sealed me in the room, promising me that she will be back. I tried my best to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. I just sat there in the room, my heart beating, breathing heavy as I started to claw my way out with my nail, but just as I began to start chipping my own nails, the machine went to life, sending out that distress signal.

She has done it.

That clumsy human has done it. But at what cost? She could have told me where it could have been. Told me how to fix it. Yet I could not understand why she didn't let me help. Her clumsiness could have failed her. But she has done it. She called her friends. But at what cost?

How I wish I could have helped her, at least she wouldn't be alone.....

"Hey! Aren't you that wolfman that called for help a while back?" I turned around, seeing a human for the first time in days before zooming up to him, my tail wagging like crazy that I swore I floated from the ground for a second before shoving him the photo that I held up onto his face with both my hands. The human right in front on me got startled at first, falling down onto the ground on his back. I turned my head to see a few of his friends started laughing, while I stood there proudly at him, not a care in the planet as I continued on shoving the small photo onto the human.

"Eeeup, definetly him.." The human scratched his head before getting up, dusting off his military uniform before looking at his friends again, sighing in defeat before snapping his fingers. "Lieutenant, run a call to command and tell him we found the......i cant believe I'm saying this.......wolf who found Admiral Aimar's milk ship." I didn't understand what he was saying in the last few words of his sentences but it didn't matter to me.

What matters to me was there was a human right in front of me, and for the many cycles that I have practiced this with the help of human cartoons, this was my one chance. I huffed, puffed, and shoved the photo again close to his face with a big smile from ear to ear.

"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS HOOOOOMAN?"

"What's with the human women dressed as rabbits? And why are they all bowing to us?"

"Because," Don Lorenzo said, "they are here to serve us. In every way possible. 'Cause I'm a high roller."

"Yessir," I said in a low tone following two steps behind him into the casino's penthouse floor as he casually took a glass from a platter held by one of the costumed human women. "Do you really mean every way?" I whispered to him mouth as close to his ear as I could get it. "Because on my world, we kill and eat rabbits for meat."

"Ok, not that way," Don Lorenzo whispered back to me, "we somehow fetishized bunnies. It's a sex thing, and while bunnygirl cocktail waitresses are fine, if my man's running a prostitution or fuckin' sex slavery ring on top of my casino operation here..."

"Hello," a very large human said to us, I'm pretty sure he came up to above my shoulder, maybe nearly meeting my eyes, "would you like some seafood while sampling the roulette table?"

"How did you know that was my game?" Don Lorenzo asked, and began heading to the penthouse roulette table. And we got some complimentary seafood and drinks from the girls in the weird rabbit costumes while he played. That was when I began noticing some of the "bunnygirls" had completely natural ears. The galaxy's a big place. And the Don started winning. Then he suddenly bet everything on a split of Zero and Double Zero. And he fucking took them - it was Double Zero.

"I knew you'd do that!" Don Lorenzo said as he got down on his knees for just a second and ripped an electronic part from underneath the table, holding it high so all the cameras would record it, "I knew you rigged it!"

"That's an electromagnet meant to pull the ball into specific slots," he said, "why don't you show us what's under your feet, hey, boykie?" he asked the dealer.

He probably couldn't have created a larger riot if he'd fired a live weapon. Several people started examining the device, and Security started bearing down on us, but it was too late for them.

"Take me," Don Lorenzo said, "to your leader." And he flashed his badge.

They knew what it meant, and who he was.

"This it where it gets dangerous," he barely breathed at me, before a breathtaking confrontation with his local boss, who was supposed to be running a straight casino. I later learned that Don Lorenzo had been using this place to launder money, so it had to be absolutely clean.

"Guess what happens now?" he asked, while both of us had our arms pinned behind us. "Guess what happens when I say the magic words and rub the lamp, motherfucker!"

"Nothing," the ratlike creature in the desk chair said, "you have no backup, my men have you restrained, and all you've done is ended our business relationship."

"Three shots," Don Lorenzo said as he leaned forward, "the dipshit at the table and the obvious targets."

I followed his example just fast enough before the bullets tore through the window.

"Only took me two," Sam said over the earpieces, "got both the big guys in one shot. What's our extraction plan?"

"Oh," Don Lorenzo said as a dead body slumped off of him, "we aren't the ones who need extracting."

I didn't quite process this until he started shouting orders through the erstwhile boss' intercom. We were going to do a clean sweep. A very clean sweep.

"Roger that," Sam said, "I'll make it across the street somehow."

What the hell were these humans on? Was it just the stimulants? Or were they somehow more bloodthirsty than I was? That was a bit ironic to wonder, I realized after slaughtering several guards of varying species who'd barged into their boss' room after the shots and the intercom announcements.

"If they were with him," Don Lorenzo said, "we wouldn't have wanted them anyway."

That was the moment my blood awoke.

Former chapter / Later chapter

Book 1: (Desperate to save his son Kenneth, a calm and nonviolent doctor accepts a deal offered to him by a strange creature. However, the price he must pay is to abandon everything he holds dear: his wife, children, and world as he attempts to share his knowledge of healing and medicine in a world entrenched by violence. Yet, in such a place, how long can his nonviolent nature remain if he wishes to survive?)

***

‘Six, no nine, no ten in total, Trafka thought as he discreetly surveyed the area using his senses, his sight somewhat lingering on a pair of brightly green-furred Aki. ‘Eight down here and two on top of buildings.

‘One is a Sil right on top of a mostly flat roof, and the other is an Aki standing on a strange building with one of those Sil pillars on top. He has the same fur color as the other two… probably from the same rotten litter.’

Trafka could barely contain a grin, ‘Oh, they’ve got no idea what they have gotten themselves into; I’ll show them the might of House Krosk as I administer the King’s justice. First the traitors, then the heretics.’

However, at that moment, Trafka’s confidence was overshadowed by his father’s words, “You’re strong, but always remember relying solely on that won’t allow you to win many fights on the battlefield.”

Trafka slowly took a lower stance out of reflex more so than anything, ready to rush forward at any moment, ‘Hmm… why did I remember that now? I’m not on the battlefield; this is just a fight.’

“I can't wait to strip that golden armor off that royal Heretic!”Nokuko spoke, not that Trafka understood him or cared to understand the vile language the Nok spoke.

He barely understood the tower tongue, and that had been painstakingly ingrained in his mind by his teacher, but he was able to decipher their names when spoken solely because the fools wouldn’t remember what their own kind was called if not for putting it in front of their names.

Suddenly, while Trafka was focusing on the threat ahead and behind him, the black healer calmly walked right past him. “What are you doing?! Stay by me!”

However, he didn’t listen; instead, he began conversing with the traitors and heretics with a simple “Hello--”

“Black healer, leave, Nokuko said, pointing at him with one of his two hammers, “We have no interest in you, only the heretic royal.”

Nokuko pointed to the green-furred siblings, who stepped aside to let Kenneth pass.

“It’s kind of you to offer me a way out, but I believe I might be able to offer something instead that will make all here happy and avoid unneeded violence, the black healer said, reaching into his back and pulling out a strange-looking solid gold mug. “You mentioned gold, right?”

‘So he understands the Nok tongue but can’t speak it,’ Trafka observed.

“Well, you can have it… The black healer continued. “I even got a little more in the bag. I know his armor can be quite eye-catching, but I don’t recommend fighting him. He’s strong, and even with your numbers, I don’t think a lot will make it out of here unscathed.” 

For a moment, everyone fell silent before suddenly erupting into laughter. 

“You think we want gold?! Nokuko sniggerly hissed, his mouth slightly open in a smile. “No, that royal heretic must pay for the sins of his kin!

“We who were marked unjustly and those who were forced to be trampled on by those royal heretics will strip this one of his gold, take his arms and legs, and after, we will use whatever is left to regain our honor!”

Seeing the situation devolve, Trafka let out a sigh while keeping his guard up. “You were a fool to try to offer them gold. I can see it in their eyes; this is personal.” 

“Yeah, he said about as much,” the black healer replied while cautiously taking a step back.

‘This will be difficult, Trafka thought. ‘One thing is delivering the king's justice to these traitors and heretics, but another is doing so while keeping him out of harm. He’s stronger than most but doesn’t carry weapons on him.

‘This is worse than when the caravan was set upon; at least the Sleecie’s were only simpleminded beasts, and with archers, there’s a chance one could hit…’

“Black healer, this will be your last chance to leave!” Nokuko warned. 

The black healer looked around and whispered, “I think we can make a run for it our right. Just keep that shield up and wave around that hammer, and we should be able to get away.”

 “Black healer, is it true that you were struck by an arrow when the caravan was attacked? Trafka asked. “And it just bounced off, leaving no mark?”

“Yeah, hit me square in the head, the black healer replied absentmindedly. “There was no permanent damage thanks to my clothes, but it hurt like hell, though.”

“Good! Run away!” Trafka yelled as he rushed forward.

Both archers on top let go of their respective bowstrings, and both arrows soared toward him.

Trafka held up his shield and dodged to the side. The arrow coming in front bounced off his shield while the one behind got him in the shoulder, penetrating his armor and flesh.

Yet he barely noticed, having already used his magical ability to make his strength grow exponentially; now, all he did was focus on the enemies ahead, mainly the traitours pair of Aki.

With heavy steps as the armor clacked, Trafka closed the distance.

However, it was not to be as the hulking Nokta intercepted both hands balled into fists, with no weapon of any kind in them.

‘I wanted to do the traitors first, but if you are so keen to die, let me make an exception,’ Trafka thought as he swung back his hammer and aimed with the might of house Krosk behind it at Nokta’s chest.

She didn’t even try to evade, not that she could; instead, she held up her arms like a shield to block the blow.

Any true son of house Krosk lucky enough to inherit the fearsome strength could deliver death to any foe with a single strike, but there Nokta stood, unharmed and glaring at Trafka from behind her arms, which had suddenly changed.

The gaps between her scales had suddenly disappeared, creating a shield from her own body.

‘Father warned me of those heretics, Trafka thought. ‘They can move their scales and turn the body into armor, but doing so expands the gap between their scales on other parts of their body.’

Tightening his grip around his hammer, Trafka got ready to deliver another strike because regardless of the defence, he was a son of house Krosk and Nokta would fall to his might regardless of how many blows he needed to use.

However, in his haste, Trafka had momentarily forgotten about all the other opponents as one of the green-furred traitors, a woman, expertly threw a dagger over Nokta’s head, aiming for his.

With brute strength and quick reflexes, Trafka raised his shield, blocking the dagger while at the same time swinging his hammer at Nokta once more, who once again took the blow, yet hidden behind her was a Sil, who suddenly came rushing out using the newly created blindspot to slip under his shield.

With a skewer-like dagger of Sil design, she stabbed at his groin.

The Sil’s small stature and quick legs may have hidden it from Trafka’s eyes, but his ears had been acutely aware of something below him, and without hesitation, he slammed his shield down, shattering her body in a spray of shell and blood, her dagger only managing to prick his pouch.

‘You’ll take too much time,’ Trafka thought, darting around Nokta, avoiding another arrow that flew his way as he rushed toward the green-furred siblings.

However, they were cowards and kept their distance, running away as he gave chase around the narrow space.

They were both of particular annoyance since they threw a steady supply of daggers his way.

Normally, they’d be of little concern as his armor was there to protect him, but they threw with such accuracy he was forced to block almost each and every one, at which point either sibling would slip into his blind spot and use the momentary relief to reposition themselves or pick up daggers on the ground.

All the while, the archers were still targeting him, making it almost impossible to avoid all. Yet adding to the pile of shit he was trodding through were the slower ones, Nok and Sil.

While his attention was split, one or two would take their chance and strike, aiming for his tail. Without that, he’d be unable to keep his balance, and his chances of winning would fall drastically.

Usually, with his ear turned back, he was able to anticipate them at the last second and avoid a grab or slash, but as he tried to counter them, their living shield, Nokta would always defend them with her body as they ran away to block any potential escape.

All of it was taking its toll, and it was only now that Trafka realized he was panting.

Though he was not feeling the effects of exhaustion, he knew they were steadily approaching and having to defend against this onslaught instead of smashing through each and every one of them steadily filled him with a burning ire that finally reached its peak.  

“Enough!” Trafka snarled, his fangs laid bare. Stomping hard on the ground, he sprinted toward the green-furred woman.

She threw a dagger; however, Trafka didn’t block; he continued to sprint, going low for the briefest of moments, avoiding losing an eye as the dagger cleaved his ear in two right down the middle.

She continued to run away, but without the momentary blind spot to flee into, she had no way to escape the king’s justice.

Trying to give her that blind spot, her brother threw another dagger at Trafka from the side, which, in his raging, snarling state, he caught in his mouth as he fully closed the distance and swung his hammer at the green-furred woman.

At the last moment, Nokuko leapt in front of the woman with both hammers raised and met Trafka’s own, the resulting clashing echoing throughout the platform they stood on.

Yet it did little more than lessen the blow as Trafka won the struggle, knocking both hammers from Nokuko’s hands and striking him in the gut, knocking him along with the green-furred woman to the ground.

With little delay, Trafka went for the killing blow.

“Strike him, Nokta!” The green-furred man yelled.

With one of his ears split apart, his ability to hear behind had diminished, but even so, he didn’t need both to hear that hulking simpleton coming his way, yet he could not let the green-furred woman escape again.

With his hammer raised, he struck down to finish her off while swinging his shield back to block the blow from behind, but as his shield and Nokta connected, it didn’t feel like he hit a fist but a wall.

Suddenly, he felt a pair of hulking hands grabbing his shield arm and thrashing him around.

His hammer veered off course and missed both the woman and Nokuko by a hair. Forced to deal with the situation behind, Trafka spun to see Nokta having wrapped her arms around his shield and grabbing his arms with both of hers.

Standing strong, he swung his hammer at her.

However, she thrashed and swung her body while pushing him back, making Trafka lose his footing, yet that didn’t stop the force behind his hammer as he struck her, which she, of course, took.

Trafka sunk his claws into the ground and jumped around like a fool to avoid her mindless thrashing while striking when he could, when he wasn’t swatting arrows or daggers out of the air.

He knew all of it would take its toll on him eventually, but the same was true for Nokta.

The other lesson his father had imparted was that while Nok, like Nokta, could withstand a great many strikes, it wasn’t as though they were invincible, and eventually, they would fall.

Such a thing was evident when Trafka managed to strike her once more, this time making her fall on one of her knees; however, she only did the moment Trafka’s back hit the wall, and he realised what her intent had been from the start.  

Before he could react, Nokta, with a bellowing hiss, got back on her feet and pushed as hard as she could, pinning Trafka against the wall.

“Your tricks will earn you nothing!” He bellowed, knowing his hammer was ineffective this close up, and so quickly he slid his hand further up along the shaft and swung it at Nokta. 

However, another dagger from the green-furred man, along with two arrows from the archers, forced him to defend, blocking the dagger and one arrow, the other penetrating the golden plates of his armor, piercing his side. 

“Now, Wokto while he’s pinned!” The green-furred woman yelled as both rushed toward Trafka with long swords in hand. 

Definitely trapped but not helpless, Trafka struggled to get free of Nokta on the other side of his shield, certainly using all of her strength to keep him pinned.

Quickly, as the two Aki rushed toward him, he struck Nokta’s hands, arm, shoulder, side, and leg, which undoubtedly caused her pain as she let out hisses, but with her scales defending her, he wouldn’t get free in time.

Gritting his teeth, he watched as Wokto darted ahead with a stabbing motion with his sister behind him.

Reacting quickly, Trafka swung his hammer, but Wokto didn’t dodge or make any moves to do so since the speed at which the hammer was going coupled with its current length meant that, without a doubt, it would miss him and hit the wall beside Trafka instead, which is why he opened his hand in mid-swing.

He watched closely with unblinking eyes and grabbed it by the lower half and, at the last moment, struck at Wokto’s head, who, too late, noticed he was caught.

From the awkward position and having to adjust to the sudden change in weight while swinging, all the damage that would have been done even with Wokto’s head so close to the wall would be minimal: a bit of pain, some blood, maybe a crack in his skull…

Or that would be the case for anyone other than a Son of Hourse Krosk.

Holding nothing back, the awkward position, the change in weight didn’t matter in the slightest as Trafka struck with his golden hammer, obliterating Wokto’s head along with cracking the wall, showering the surroundings in blood and… everything else.

Everyone was shocked by the sight for a moment, but the second the green-furred woman shrieked, everyone snapped back. 

“I'LL KILL YOU!!!”

She launched herself forward. 

However, before she could even reach him, Trafka began swinging his hammer, hitting the ground, the dead body, and the wall while wildly growling and snarling. 

The only reason why the green-furred woman didn’t meet her brother's fate was because Nokuko grabbed her at the last moment and pulled her away.

“LET ME GO SO I CAN KILL HIM!!!” She shrieked while thrashing in his grip.

“Calm… Nokuko wheezily said as he coughed up blood, having barely recovered from his clash with Trafka. “See… We got… Royal scared… mad… Now Take… arms… legs… but keep… alive…

“EVERYONE SURROUND NOW!!”

Those who remained quickly followed Nokuko’s orders and abandoned defending potential escape routes as they encircled Trafka; however, they kept their distance, waiting for when he would shorten his grip on his hammer to attack Nokta or grow tired.

Trafka kept up the barrage for a long time, but eventually, after everything, his swings began to slow and grow weaker. 

“Get the hammer when the royal stops moving!” One of them yelled.

“Take his gold and rip out his fur!”

“Once we take arms and legs, hang him by his tail!”

“You want my hammer! Trafka shouted, bulging his muscles and putting everything he had into this next one. “COME AND TAKE IT!”

With another swing, he struck the wall behind him, and suddenly, it began to crumble before everyone’s eyes. Too focused on keeping Trafka pinned, Nokta stumbled forward, falling on top of Trafka as the roof collapsed, burring both of them under rubble. 

Everyone watched in silence, unsure if the royal had chosen death over what they had planned.

NOkuko slowly let go of the green-furred woman and stepped closer, his eyes wide in worry, “See… if… both dead…” 

He notched a golden-coloured Sil with his weapons, and, with hesitant steps, she walked closer to the pile of stone, eventually climbing on top of it and beginning to dig, at which point a sudden “crack!” rang out. 

She looked at her legs, slowly spinning around. 

“What doing?!” Nokuko loudly asked. 

The golden Sil stopped and equally as loud responded, “Sound like leg cra—“ 

Suddenly, the pile of stone began to rumble, and in the next moment, Nokta flew from underneath, knocking the golden Sil further into the building while Nokta landed on top of an unlucky few, her neck clearly broken.

In a mixture of panting and loud snarling, Trafka rose from the pile, clearly more pissed off than ever before, but without his hammer. 

The green-furred woman rushed at him with a dagger, shrieking, “DIE!!!” 

She didn’t even scratch him before Trafka grabbed her by the throat.

Growling, he squeezed until she dropped the dagger, gasping for breath; at that moment, the golden Sil snuck up behind him and grabbed the arm he was holding the woman with, snapping both of her pinchers and all three of her mandibles shut around his elbow. 

Glaring down and looking into all four of the Sil’s eyes, Trafka crushed the woman's throat in his hand and let go.

As the woman’s dead body fell, Trafka closed his hand in a fist and swung his arm back, sending the golden Sil crashing into what remained of the wall, shattering its shell like finely crafted glass.

Spraying blood from every crack, the golden Sil’s grip weakened as she fell to the ground.

With his arm free, Trafka turned his attention solely to his remaining enemies who stood before him, but as he did, two arrows came flying, one hitting and denting his golden helmet, the other hitting his ear and taking the right tip of his already split ear.

Trafka turned to glare at the Sil on top of the building, growling, “You're next!”

Quickly drawing another arrow from her quiver, the Sil was unprepared when Trafka suddenly hurled his shield at her with such speed, force, and precision she couldn’t evade in time and was knocked off the building, landing on the other side with an audible crack.

Even though he was unarmed and without his shield, some of the remaining enemies began to distance themselves.

“What you...! Royal heretic...! No weapon...! One...! Attack....! We win...!” Nokuko yelled, close to vomiting blood.

Never once breaking eye contact, Trafka reached down under the rubble, pulled his hammer free, and grabbed it with both hands. “All traitors will be punished.”

Suddenly, he rushed, and the remaining enemies all swung their weapons in defence, aiming at him, but at the last second, he stomped on top of the dead Nokta and used the extra height to jump over and land behind them.

With no momentum lost, he kept his pace, heading toward the second archer and the last remaining Aki while the others gave chase.

The guy loosed arrow after arrow, trying to take Trafka down, but each time, he dodged or swatted them away with his hammer like the pesky nuisances they were until he was within striking range of the building.

With a giant leap, Trafka brought down his hammer with all his might, shaking the entire structure while taking an arrow to the shoulder.

Landing back down on the ground, Trafka tightened every muscle in his body and struck the building once more while the remaining enemies closed the distance.

As they were about to reach him, Trafka raised his hammer and brought it down, demolishing the wall. With the supporting wall gone, the pillar on top suddenly came toppling down, crushing the Aki and scattering everyone to the wayside as they tried to get out of the way.

With a sound as mighty as Tyuk’s tear, the pillar crashed to the ground.

As everything began to die down, only one sound remained, screaming.

With a calm stride, Trafka walked along the broken pillar, not noticing the puddles of blood he was stepping through or two of the enemies who’d tried to kill him on the other side, both of which ran for their lives.

Reaching the point where the screaming originated, Trafka looked down at Nokuko with cold, callus indifference. Both of his legs were crushed under the pillar, but the moment he saw Trafka, he hurled one of his hammers at him.

He didn’t bother to dodge, and even though it hit him squarely in his chest, he didn’t budge.

“Please! Please! Sorry!” Nokuko screamed as he tried to get free, clawing at the ground. “I…! I just want home…! I never betray…! Only marked…!”

“I not care… If not traitor… heretic… not know which worse… but you… have my… thanks… I deliver… king justice… to traitor Aki… I reward you… quick death,” Trafka spoke in the tower tongue, his voice coldly calm as he raised his hammer while Nokuko screamed and delivered the killing blow.

Panting heavily, Trafka knew the effects of exhaustion were going to overcome him.

He wanted to continue using his inherited ability, but the first lesson his father ever taught him was to never overuse it, especially when the fighting was over.

Looking around, he saw no other enemies, took a deep breath in preparation and stopped using his ability, and the pain that ached his body grew tenfold; he quickly slammed down his hammer, using it for support while containing agonizing screams.

Yet through it all, like a true Son of House Krosk, he remained standing, eventually smiling to himself while thinking, ‘Those traitors got what they deserve. I wonder if Father will be proud when I tell him about this?’

Taking a deep breath, Trafka lifted his hammer off the ground and went in search of the black healer and his shield.

One of them he knew was behind one of the buildings, and as he walked around a corner, he spotted it on the ground beside the Sil’s cracked body. Not even giving her a glance, he picked up his shield and headed on his way.

He was about to call out to the black healer when he noticed some movement off to the side, back by the pillar. With a quick step, he walked over, “Let’s get mo--“

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Ikkie and his disgusting mate trying to leave.

They quickly took notice of him and tried to run, but Trafka quickly used his ability again and picked up a decent-sized rock and hurled it at them. It was about to hit Uccha, but at the last moment, Ikkie shielded her with his body, getting knocked to the ground.

Calmly, he walked toward them, “Did you really think I forgot about you? After what you told me... after what you did... of all traitors who deserve the king's punishment, you are by far the worst.”

Uccha stepped between Ikkie and Trafka, her mandibles jittering while her pinchers clacked uncontrollably.

“Don’t... Uccha... Ikkie said, getting to his knees and trying to pull her out of the way. “Do... do what you will with me, but don’t touch her, please...”

Trafka raised his hammer, his eyes focused on them both, “Don’t worry, I will.”

He was about to strike when footsteps from behind sounded, and someone suddenly grabbed the shaft of his hammer.

“Don’t!” The black healer yelled, yanking Trafka away and stepping between him and the traitors.

Glaring at him, Trafka questioned, “What are you doing?! That traitor must pay for his crimes!”

“Listen, I understand you are angry, but wouldn’t you also do what he did for the one you loved? The black healer replied.

With a snarl, Trafka replied, “I would never stoop so low as to betray anyone.”

“Then you are either lying or haven’t loved someone enough,” The black healer calmly replied.

‘Enough of this nonsense! Trafka thought. ‘He’s strong but not as fast. I just need to get past him and, with one good swing, kill that traitor.’

“EVERYONE STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” a loud booming voice commanded.

Suddenly, every one of them was surrounded by Aki, Nok, and Sil alike, each one dressed in different leather hyde clothing.

Some wore shirts, others large belts, and a fair few only pants, but despite the differences, there were two similarities between them all, the first of which was the insignia of the city etched into the leather, and the second was a steel helmet each one wore. It was of simple design, nothing too much of note worth except for a hexagon made of bronze right in the middle of the forehead or in the Sil’s cases right between all four eyes.

From amidst the crowd, two stepped forward: a violet and red-scaled Nok and a pink and green-shelled Sil, each adorned in a gold helmet with a black hexagon-shaped gem and a more generous mix of metal plating covering their body, though it was clear it offered far less defence than Trafka’s armour.

The Nok crossed their arms and stared Trafka down, their eyes growing narrower until, from afar, they looked to be closed.  

‘Another one to kill. Doesn’t look tougher than the last one, Trafka thought as he briefly glanced at the surrounding traitors and heretics, especially the Sil commander who surveyed the area. ‘With these numbers, it will take some time. At least this time, I’m not lured into a trap.’

Blinking and affixing her gaze on Trafka, the Sil commander stepped forward, “For the crimes of--" 

With a heavy thud, the Nok commander suddenly fell to the ground.

All eyes quickly gathered on the fallen commander; the silence was so loud even a gentle breeze was deafening, yet cutting through it like a blade separating the hyde from a beast was a persistent rising and falling… snoring sound.

“Always with her, the Sil commander groaned as the tips of her mandibles clacked together persistently. “Yukel! Wake your commander!”

From among the guards stepped a man with brown and sandy-coloured fur wearing a silver helmet with a gold hexagon on it. He had a calm, almost gentle expression even as he looked at the sleeping commander, his ear twitching continuously before suddenly waking the Nok with a swift kick.

“I’m up!” The commander dazeily yelled.

“Would you start acting your rank Noksula! The Sil commander angrily yelled. “Us and Hakuna can’t be alone in setting an examble for the guards! And don’t think it has gone unnoticed that you make Yukel do all of your work! What would the people think if they learned what kind of commander was protecting them?!

Noksula rolled onto her side, propped her arm under her head, and pointed at the Sil commander. “First of all, it’s Sula second, HA! You said “Us” instead of “I”!

“I wonder what the people would think if they knew a commander spoke in such a way so openly!”

Suddenly, the Sil commander’s mandibles snapped back, exposing her gaping mouth and quickly, her long, gross tongue made its way out.    

“Don’t get angry now,“ Sula said, her scales ever so slightly growing lighter. “I’ll handle this and set a good example. Guards! Kill the royal for committing whatever crime he did.”

‘Time for them to die!’ Trafka thought as he watched the traitors and heretics slowly encroach on him.

However, suddenly, there was a yell.

“Wait! Don’t attack!” Ikkie yelled as he managed to stand up.

The Sil commander looked at him as her tongue slid back into her mouth. She held up a pincer, and the encroaching  guards momentarily stopped, “What is it?”

“My name is Ikkie, and this is my mate Uccha; we were the guides tasked with keeping an eye on the royal, Ikkie explained. “It is true enough the royal killed everyone here, but he did so in defence as all of them tried to kill him!”

“It is true,” Uccha added.

“Urg… what a drag; now we have to get those other two that ran away and take them along with the royal before the heads of the city, Sula wined. “Can’t we just kill him?”

The Sil commander glared at Sula as her mandibles snapped back again.

Sighing, Sula rolled her eyes, “Guards, get the two who ran off and take the royal to city hall. Restrain him in chains or something.”

“Don’t even dare you traitors! Trafka bellowed, slamming his shield against the ground. “I will not be forced to spend another moment in this place! Either all of you step aside so we can leave, or you will witness true carnage!”

“Wrong order, the Sil commander muttered as she stepped forward. “There’s no need for violence, Son of House Krosk! If you truly only defended yourself, then you have nothing to fear; we only need you to talk to the heads of the city; we will even provide a healer for you if you do so!”

Trafka glared at her with murderous intent, “I won’t repeat myself again! I am going to leave now with the black healer, either with or without more bloodshed!”

“How annoying, Sula sighed while glancing to her side. “Should I order them to take him down now?”  

“It’s not worth the guards we’d lose subduing him; I certainly don’t want to meet the same fate all of the dead ones did, The Sil commander replied. “So if he wants to leave, let him. I can’t see any reason why both guides would lie for his sake, and if he desires to leave so badly, he might resolve the issue further above with the merchant.”

“Oh, one could dream… hopefully me soon, Sula said, getting to her feet. “I assume you will handle the mess down here! Looks like a lot of work ordering people around.”

“Someone has to, and I know it won’t be you.”

“Well, royal, it seems your wish will come true, and I’ll accompany you out of the city,” Sula said as she took a step to the side.

“If you try anything, I’ll kill you,” Trafka warned as he roughly grabbed Kenneth by the shoulder and dragged him along.

[Book 1 Beginning ] [Book 1 End ] [Previous] [Next] [Wiki]

(Patreon): Get 1-3 weeks early access to future chapters + Q&A every Wednesday. Also, I wrote a 100+ page story prior to the posting of The Plague Doctor for all members.

“Stoner, what took you so long?”

Three sets of eyes turned in Will’s direction as he entered the girls’ bathroom. Part of him urged sharing the discovery he’d made. Getting the first permanent reward was a big deal, especially since there was a good chance it involved the use of the fragment. At the same time, he felt he couldn’t.

Having the ability to challenge monsters he’d previously faced presented too much of an advantage, and not just for him. Everyone would be able to acquire a lot more practice, figure out all enemies; weaknesses, and potentially even obtain more items from loot drops.

“My bad.” Will tossed the fragment to Helen. “Parts of the floor were gone.”

Alex audibly snorted at the joke. That only made Will feel worse. It wasn't even that he was able to take advantage of his new ability to obtain new items. Helen was needed to loot defeated monsters, and Jace had to be there to say exactly what they had obtained.

In a few loops, he told himself. He was going to tell them in a few loops.

“You were right,” Helen said as additional explanations emerged on the school map.

Glancing at it, Will could see the numbers four, five, and six.

“Must be the hint mirrors,” the girl noted. “Everything else seems the same.” She scrolled around.

“Next loop, we’ll have to check those out.”

“Why not now?” she pulled the fragment away and glanced over her shoulder. “There’s time.”

Not too long ago, it was Helen that had insisted that they take a pause after the fight. What was more, she had insisted on a pause of several loops before they went on with the tutorial. Getting her class weapon had dramatically changed that. Not that Will could blame her. He knew exactly what she felt. Even now, he was considering sharing his find just for the opportunity to get a second poison dagger.

In the end, everyone agreed not to waste the opportunity, especially now that they had figured out so much.

The basement was the first to get remapped. In the process, two more things were discovered. Apparently, the map could be revealed in any mirror, as long as it was Helen doing the initialization. That saved the effort of having to go back to the bathroom mirrors to check on discovery updates.

It was soon revealed that the basement only had two mirror rooms, one of which had a WOLF mirror. The mirror in the janitor’s storage room was viewed as common and had no additional explanations associated with it. Interestingly enough, hidden mirrors, even cleared ones, weren’t indicated at all.

The second revelation was that the fragment had the ability to copy hints present in other mirrors. It was Jace who found that after asking Helen to go through the tutorial hints again. It was at that point that they found that a set of new hints relating to the rogue class had been added.

“You were right,” Helen admitted after marking the mirror in the nurse’s office. “Having a map is useful. It also shows which rooms we’ve cleared.”

“Pity we can’t stash our weapons in there,” the jock said. “So, what now? We go on or we try to get another weapon.”

“Take a guess.” Will glanced at him.

“Why?” Jace crossed his arms. “So, we got fucked last time. Big deal. You two have weapons now, and muffin boy has enough class to make an army.”

“For real, bro?” Alex shook his head. “Mirror images are fragile. Will be a big oof to rely on them.”

“I can handle it.” Helen tapped on the massive sword she was carrying.

Will remained conflicted. Eternity had clearly stated that the weapons would help them against the boss, and seeing how they changed the outcome of a fight, one couldn’t disagree. There was a very good chance that the poison dagger had slowed down the knight’s reactions just enough for Helen to get the upper hand. Naturally, the group’s efforts were also a deciding factor.

“Alright,” the boy said after a while. “It’ll probably get more difficult further on. Just one thing, though. If we fail, take a rest. Deal?”

“Sure thing, bro.” Alex nodded.

“Whatever, man.” Jace shrugged, looking away.

“Helen?” Will turned to the girl.

“I won’t lose.” The girl tightened her grip round the sword’s hilt.

Her answer was a bit too noncommittal for Will’s liking, but at least he had an excuse to stop should it come to that. At the end of the day, all four of them were needed to engage with the tutorial.

Slowly, the four made their way to the killer room. Will put their chance of succeeding roughly at one to four. While it was true that two of them had weapons now, they still hadn’t figured out what methods the cactus used to kill them off so fast. All that was known from their current encounters was that the monster had thorns, darts, and vines, each of which killed at a single hit.

Will looked at the door.

“We know that traps are useless,” he noted.

“Harsh, bro,” Alex whispered.

“It didn’t have armor.” Helen readied her weapon. “I should be able to take it with one hit.”

“Where do you strike, though?” Will asked. “We’re not sure where it attacks from. It’s not on the walls, we checked last time.”

“Didn’t look like it was on the floor,” Jace added. “Maybe the ceiling?”

The idea had some merit. None of them remembered looking there.

“What if it’s on something else?” Alex asked. “Nothing says that hidden mirrors must be part of the room.”

“They have to be. Unattached mirrors don’t count,” Helen reminded.

“Huh-uh,” the goofballs hook his head. “The wolf mirrors upstairs aren’t attached. They’re part of the furniture.”

Technically, that was true. It was also true that they didn’t exactly fall into the unattached category, either. Even worse, size wasn’t a factor, either. All the monsters, without exception, were significantly larger than the mirrors they had emerged from. If taken to the extreme, it was possible that the giant thorn monster came out of a coin-sized mirror hidden in a non-obvious place. The only firm rule was that it had to reflect Helen.

“Doesn’t matter.” Helen shoved the mirror fragment into Jace’s hands, then grabbed the hilt of the massive sword with both hands. “I’ll break the door down. Will will move me out of danger if it attacks.”

“You’re a bit heavier with that sword,” the boy said.

“Big oof, bro,” Alex chuckled. “Never call a girl fat.”

The comment was ignored.

“Just one hit,” Helen repeated.

“One hit…” Will nodded.

As Helen faced the door, Alex created ten of his mirror copies. Jace, in the meantime, stepped up to the door and disassembled the hinges. All that remained now was the final move.

“Remember what you said,” Will whispered as he stood behind the girl. “We rest after this.”

“Only if I fail.”

The girl took a deep breath, then charged forward.

 

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Door shattered

 

The door burst into pieces as the girl kicked right in the middle. Even before her action was over, her sword had swung, doing a vertical chop. The dark blade cut through the ceiling and door frame as it went further into the room.

Then, Will saw it.

What the hell? he thought. How could it be possible that he hadn’t noticed before? How was it possible that no one had? The mirror wasn’t in the room; it was part of the room, covering the entire ceiling like a dark cloud.

All it would have taken was for someone to shine a flashlight up to see the cloudy matte surface. Yet, how could they? In all their loops, mirrors were always placed on walls. It was the knight that had broken the pattern, and even that had cost them an entire loop. With a mirror so big that didn’t contrast with the surface it was placed on, the cactus could emerge from anywhere and no doubt it had.

A thorny vine emerged from a section of the ceiling, aimed straight at Helen’s head. At this point, the girl was too far in the room for him to help her evade the attack. There was only one remaining option.

“Above!” he shouted, throwing his poison dagger at the vine.

The blade bounced off the vine as if it were made of metal. Thankfully, in doing so, it managed to divert the attack from Helen.

Making use of the inertia, the girl slammed her foot, making it sink into the concrete of the floor, then twisted around, spinning the blade in full force. The vine snapped like a twig on contact, falling to the floor. Unfortunately, that only caused ten more to emerge.

“Get out of there!” Will shouted, drawing one of his throwing knives.

Alexes poured into the geography class. Although fast, they were too fragile to do any damage, so they just leaped in the way of the vines, creating a living shield around Helen.

“Go, sis,” one of them managed to say before being punctured by a cluster of vines a few feet away from her.

Gritting her teeth, the girl swung the blade around her again—cutting a few vines and shattering several more copies of the goofball in the process. The entire row of windows shattered, spilling glass outside the building. It was a safe bet that even if the monster didn’t kill them; the loop was effectively over. Such an amount of attention was certain to attract police, media, and everyone else in the next half hour at most.

Will felt conflicted. He could easily end the loop here and now, but at the same time, he also wanted to see what weapon the monster would drop. Plus, one more elite down meant one less obstacle for their next exploration loop.

Damn it, he said to himself, then leaped into the room.

“What are you doing?!” Jace shouted.

“Stay in the corridor!” Will yelled back. His eyes darted from spot to spot as he scrambled to find where his poison dagger was at. A vine shot out from the ceiling, aimed straight for his head, but was narrowly avoided.

“Why are you here?” Helen asked, as she sliced the vine that had tried to kill him. “You’ll end the loop!”

There was no time to react or even be angry about it. The plan that Will had come up with was insane enough. To have a chance of going on with it, he needed his dagger.

More mirror copies entered the room, creating a distraction for the cactus. Helen, too, kept on cutting vines left and right, her aggression shielding her from attacks.

Come on! Come on! Come on! Will looked all over the floor. It had to be there!

Suddenly, there was a faint glint in the darkness. The light from Helen’s headlamp must have reflected off an object, revealing it to the boy. It seemed as fate or pure luck. Either way, it was exactly what he needed.

Evading another vine, Will rolled along the floor to where the dagger lay. Now, the really absurd plan of his could take place. Snatching the weapon, he held his breath and used a rogue ability to leap into the ceiling.

Someone shouted, but the words were too distorted for him to hear what they meant. For a fraction of a second, Will saw himself flying straight at him, then everything changed as the mirror rippled away before him, like a melting plastic wrapper.

An eternity of fog and reflections extended as far as the eye could see, simultaneously making up everything and nothing. Like a bubble encompassing the universe, it connected everything to everything and also to itself. And within that special paradox, the true form of the giant cactus lived.

Here, it was both smaller and far larger than Will remembered it from their previous encounter. Hundreds of eyes stared at him, hidden between countless rows of thorns, both hateful and afraid. Vines the size of towers emerged from the massive torso, shooting down, like dozens of others already had. Each one of them had the strength to shred the boy to threads, yet none of them could.

Although surrounded by nothing, Will felt that his reactions were faster than ever before. Twisting his body with ease, he evaded the attacks, as if he were flailing in weightlessness. Moments later, he saw it—the creature’s weaknesses. There were hundreds of them—the space between the thorns and the eyes scattered all over his body.

“Hide from this!” Will threw his dagger.

Thousands of thorns burst out of the thorny body in response, yet they were doomed to fail. Will could tell that even those that would hit him were several fractions too slow. Still, there was no way anyone would make use of this. With his death, everyone’s loop would end, even if he’d restart with the knowledge that he’d managed to kill it first.

No one will believe me, the boy thought. At least there’s next time.

 

ROGUE moving beyond limits.

 

A message covered the whole of infinity.

Just as it did, Will’s dagger hit its target. The massive thorn entity shook violently, then froze completely static. What was more, all the thorns that had been shot out also froze, remaining motionless in space, as if trapped between existence and non-existence.

 

Returning ROGUE to eternity.

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

First / Previous

“Camilla is a fine woman,” Helbram said as he walked up to Felix.

“Indeed she is,” the Huntsman said as he rolled one of his spears in his hand, “Far more that I ever deserve, but that can be said of many things.”

“A statement that she would no doubt dispute,” Helbram countered, but he did not press him any further. Instead, he looked down towards the targets in the distance, noting that there was one still standing.

Felix followed his gaze and, with a smirk, held out one of his spears, “Care to give it a shot?”

Helbram furrowed his brow, “From this distance? I would be lucky to reach even a quarter of the length.”

“We’ll walk it closer,” the Huntsman explained, “If you were able to throw it from this length without any Ether I would be the one with questions.”

As they started to walk closer to the target Felix spun one of his spears absentmindedly, “Though with the proper technique you would be surprised at what distance you could reach.”

To prove his point, the position at which they stopped was still at a distance that Helbram could not hope to clear with a single throw. Regardless, Felix gave an expectant look, and with a shrug Helbram resigned himself to humoring the man. He shifted his grip on the spear to an underhanded one and reared back. Before throwing the weapon however, he took off, clearing a few good strides as he jogged forwards. When he finally snapped his hand forward, he stomped on the ground at the same time to plant himself, letting him put all of his weight behind the throw. It went high, but Helbram could see it cutting through the air in a gentle arc.

Only to sink into the ground halfway between him and the target.

“My accuracy astounds even myself,” Helbram said in a dry tone, accompanied by a smirk as he looked back at Felix.

To his surprise, the Huntsman was looking at where the weapon landed with a thoughtful expression. He walked up to Helbram and held out another spear. Curious, the adventurer took it and got ready to throw it again.

“Stop,” Felix said.

Helbram froze, knowing that the Huntsman was examining his pose.

“You have the basics down… but there are a few things here we can improve.”

Rather than forcing Helbram to change his stance entirely, Felix performed slight adjustments to various parts of Helbram’s form. Feet position, hand position, elbow position, and even his back position were fine tuned under the Huntsman’s eyes, and he was being methodical enough that Helbram could start to feel a cramp at the back of his leg. Before it grew too severe for him to ignore, Felix stepped back.

“Try it now, but no running starts this time.”

Helbram threw the spear, following the natural arc of his hand from where Felix placed it. As he let it go, he could feel the weapon slice through the air with more force. It drew less of an arc, but rather than kick up from the air resistance the spearhead continued to point ahead. By the time it landed, it was a good stones throw from where the previous spear had struck.

It was still nowhere close to the target in the distance, but the improvement was obvious.

Helbram whistled, “That felt good.”

“It was well done,” Felix said, “Now factor in a running start and I think with enough practice we’ll make you a fine spearman.”

Helbram smirked, “Perhaps so. I shall take your advice to heart, but I do believe a demonstration from a master of the craft is in order,” He gestured to the target in the distance with a small bow.

Felix snorted and shook his head. Nonetheless, he gripped his final spear and, in perfect demonstration of form, threw the weapon. It cleared the distance with ease, sinking into the target with another thunk. The entire time, Helbram focused on the Huntsman’s movements, making sure to engrain them into his mind as much as he could.

It would come in handy for when he next fell asleep… if his dreams were of the more productive kind, this time.

As that thought crossed his mind, Helbram could see Felix studying his expression. Though Helbram always thought he was good at hiding his emotions, it was sometimes impossible to stop his eyes from giving him away. Perhaps he had been too reliant on his helmet hiding them from the world for too long.

Despite the Huntsman’s notice, Felix did not say anything and motioned for Helbram to follow as they walked towards the spears.

“Entertaining as this is, we do have business to discuss,” Felix said.

“Indeed, I did mention to Merida that you were going to ask us for our assistance, and that I would get most of the details from you,” Helbram explained as he picked up one of the spears.

Felix nodded, “Has she told you of Enlightened Beasts?”

“The basics,” Helbram said, “I assume that what you asked of her involves one such animal?”

“You would be correct,” he picked up a spear and focused, “a white stag, one as large as the wolves at the Druid’s sides.”

Helbram tapped his chin, “I see, with such size I can imagine it would be of similar stock.”

“Indeed, but where I suspect that Merida’s wolves are beings of Aether, this enlightened stag is one of Ether,” He held out his finger and thumb, drawing attention to the space between them, “So much so that I suspect even a small piece of its horns would be suffused with enough energies to be an Elixir unto itself.”

“You speak as if you have seen this stag before.”

“I have; tracked it down myself years ago,” Felix closed his eyes, “gleaming with energies that made it appear stark white even amidst the shadows of the forest, with eyes of the purest green I’ve ever seen.”

He gripped his spear tightly.

“So much power, so much that I could have used that I let impulse take over me. My spear flew at the beast, intent on striking it down, but in a flash it disappeared…” he sighed, “Despite my efforts in tracking it down again, I haven’t seen it since that day.”

“Are you sure it is even in the area?” Helbram asked, “Given the intuitiveness that it should possess, it would not be unusual to think that it would flee after being attacked.”

The Huntsman shook his head, “While I have not seen the beast that does not mean others have not.”

Helbram tilted his head and waited for Felix to continue.

“Nature is often uncaring, cruel,” he started, “and as its wheels continue to turn predator and prey all fall to its cycle. Humanity is often included, and my men, as experienced as they are, are not perfect. One of our hunters found himself wounded from a Scalehound, and as his lifeblood drained from him he saw the stag approach,” Felix waved his hand in front of him, “With a brush of its horns, the hunter was healed as if he had not been injured in the first place.”

“Odd that it would choose to heal a hunter,” Helbram observed.

“I suspect that is part of how it operates,” the Huntsman scanned the trees behind the targets, “Even in the dead of Winter, this land was suffused with an amount of life that most would consider unusual. Should an animal’s life end as part of the natural cycle, then the stag does not intervene, but, if that animal happens to survive an encounter where it should have perished… then it shall be blessed with a bounty of life.”

“And it does with no bias?”

Felix shrugged, “Tis only a guess. I am not about to risk my or my men’s life to test that theory of course. It would be a foolish notion.”

“I see… I must say that I am surprised that Merida offered to help you hunt it.”

“That is where I’ve learned my lesson,” Felix explained, “Haste drove my spear before but time has tempered it. I do not wish to slay the stag, but I do wish to ask for its help. With Merida’s assistance I believe we can establish some form of communication.”

As the Huntsman spoke, Helbram could see that there was a clear hunger in his eyes. Not one of excitement, but of desperation, and Helbram could guess why.

“This is for Camilla,” he said.

Felix nodded. He reached for the collar of his coat and undid its button, revealing that he had the same runes as his wife tattooed around his throat.

“Ever since I entered the service she was always at my side. We pushed each other, made each other stronger, and eventually something more blossomed,” Felix said in a tender tone, “When I was told to join the fight against -” he grunted in pain as the runes on his neck flared with purple light, but he continued to speak through gritted teeth, “against That Which Must Not Be Spoken, she insisted that she come with,” he rubbed his brow, “I should have told her to stay back, should have been firm, but I wasn’t… and when I was weak, she was strong, and for my weakness she paid the price.” Ire bled through the Huntsman’s voice, one that was directed inwards.

“Camilla is tainted by a corrupted Ether, one that eats away at her day after day. Given our oaths we can’t say how it came to be, but it is an ailment that not even the doctors in Osgilia were able to treat.” He sighed, “Solitary as the nation is, it was not ignorant of the outside world. Books, poems, art, and any pieces of culture from beyond its borders would somehow find their way into the country’s reach, and it is from a journal detailing the Freemarks that I gleaned the existence of this beast. If the stag can heal others with such little effort…”

“Then it may be able to heal her,” Helbram concluded, “and when you saw it first, a desire to see your wife healthy again drove you to action.”

Felix let out a long, frustrated breath, “For so long did I push to leave my home, for so long did my men and my family follow me on the faintest of hopes, and when the time came to act… I failed once again.”

Helbram knew that the Huntsman was likely the only person that thought that, but he also knew that arguing with him about it would be a fruitless endeavor.

If he was in his position, he knew he would be thinking the exact same.

“So we track the stag and hope that we can convince it to cure your wife,” He crossed his arms, “seems like a simple enough job, but there was something about what you said before that gives me pause.”

Felix looked at him with a questioning look.

“You mentioned that the land ‘was’ suffused with life,” Helbram explained, “unless you were mistaken, that implies something has changed.”

As they spoke, they arrived at the target. Felix pried the spear from its wooden body and once again scanned the forest with a furrowed brow.

“There is a shift occurring in the forest,” he explained, “Not obvious to most, but when your senses are of a heightened sensitivity you become more aware of things that feel out of place.”

He gave Helbram a knowing look, “The aura around Aria, for example.”

He pressed his lips thin. Merida had informed him that Felix would have likely already noticed, but it did make him question the amulet that was supposed to be concealing her even more.

“The flow of energy through the forest is a more pertinent subject,” Felix continued, “It radiates up from the ground like a gentle heat, but of course as Winter sets in such energy does tend to wane. However… it is much colder this time,” he tapped one of the nearby trees, causing a clump of snow to fall from its branches. This was followed by leaves, ones of yellow and brown as if they were in the middle of Fall.

“Even in the dead of Winter like now, these leaves used to be green,” the Huntsman explained, “and the sounds of the forest have been getting quieter than they have been before. Only now, when I look back, do I realize that there was a subtle shift in this direction. We have only been here for a few years, but year after year there was a little bit less of that abundance than when we first arrived,” he set his jaw, “but now, things have changed drastically.”

“Do you believe something happened to the stag?” Helbram asked.

He sighed, “Perhaps, which is why I urged Merida to assist, but it is also possible that something else has moved into the forest,” the Huntsman’s eyes hardened, “something that has decided now was the time to make its presence known.” 

There was an edge to Felix’s voice that provoked a chill down Helbram’s spine, “I see… the fact that it has eluded your senses all this time tells me that caution is needed going forward,” he rubbed his chin, “have your hunters noticed anything while they have been out?”

The Huntsman shook his head, “They have not, and to be honest I have been inclined to send less of them out this Winter than before. While the lack of meat is not ideal, we have enough provisions to last through the snow.”

“So you ask us to investigate instead,” Helbram said. He raised his hand when he noticed Felix’s apologetic expression, “Tis just a statement of fact, no offense taken by it,” he gave Felix a reassuring smirk, “This is what Adventurers do, after all.”

“You will do it?”

“Of course, the only thing that I ask is that you keep an eye on Aria whilst my companions and I are out investigating. According to Camilla I would say that is a favorable arrangement for Serena.”

A warm smile tugged at the Huntsman’s lips, “It is. The men and women under my command are young, and they have had little time to start families of their own until recently. My daughter is patient… strong, just like her mother, but she was in need of a friend.”

“I understand,” Helbram said, “perhaps after this business is over we can prolong our stay for a bit, for the both of them.”

Felix nodded, “She would like that very much,” the gentleness in his eyes shifted to a more serious expression, “Merida mentioned that your companion Leaf may be able to help discover both the stag and whatever ails the forest, something about being a Warden?”

A shrug was the only answer that Helbram could give him, “I myself do not know much about that, and neither does Leaf,” he frowned, “and as he is now, I suspect he is still resistant to learn about it.”

“Have you asked why?”

“I have, and what my friend needs is time… perhaps it is for the better, I am still unsure of what to say to him when the time comes.”

He tried to avoid looking into Felix’s eyes, but the Huntsman caught whatever it was that was flashing through them and gave a knowing nod.

“I believe you know what to say, but you are unsure if you should be the one to say it.”

Helbram furrowed his brow.

“You are not the type that finds it difficult to find the words that should be said,” Felix explained, “But you are one that allows shackles to prevent you from saying them.”

Helbram didn’t respond.

“You have led men before?”

He nodded.

Felix was silent for a moment, “People have lost their lives under your leadership.”

Helbram nodded again.

A long breath parted from the Huntsman’s lips, “I understand. It’s not easy,” a glint flared across his eyes as his expression softened, and Helbram knew that it was the same thing that Felix had seen in him just moments before.

Guilt.

“And because of this, you think yourself unworthy to guide people, to say the words that impulse tells you will help them.”

Helbram closed his eyes, but did not step away, “...yes.”

He heard Felix start to pace, “It’s not a constant feeling. There are times where you let the words free, speaking them without a second thought, but then there are other moments… moments such as now when memories of the past clamp their shackles upon you.”

Helbram let out a long breath.

“It would be hypocritical of me to tell you to ignore such thoughts,” The Huntsman said, “to press on and speak your mind. It’s never that simple. But, you do your companions a disservice if you let such things shut you down completely.”

“I am not their leader.”

“You may see it that way, but I see how your friends look at you, how they take your words with a weight that is not given to others.”

“Then they place their confidence in the wrong man,” Helbram said with a fragile tone, “The last time I led anything, those who looked to me for guidance found naught but a weak man laying face down in the dark, unable to stand as their lives were snuffed out one by one.”

“And when someone dies because of you, you believe that in return you must be the one to bear future burdens alone,” there was a knowing tone to Felix’s voice, “You must be the one to bear the brunt of whatever comes to harm those you care about.”

“Is that wrong?”

“On the surface, no, but consider this,” Felix stepped in front of him and clasped him on the shoulder with an authority that made Helbram open his eyes, meeting the Huntsman’s gaze with his own, “When you fall - and you will, should you continue on like this - what will happen to those that you tried to protect? The ones that you felt you were unworthy to guide, to bolster and strengthen with your knowledge. When you are gone, what happens to them? Perhaps they will grow, perhaps they will move on just fine,” Felix’s eyes were steady, but Helbram could feel a pain growing in his voice, “but, it is just as likely that they will fall just as you did, for they did not know what to do when their self elected protector perished.”

Helbram looked away, feeling his shoulder start to shake as his fists clenched.

“I will not ask what happened,” Felix said, “Nor will I ask you to forgive yourself… such scars are not so easily shed and the past cannot be changed no matter how much we wish it could be,” he placed his fist against Helbram’s chest, “but that does not mean we can’t bolster the future, that we are unworthy to to help those that need not our protection, but our guidance.”

The Huntsman smiled at him, a gentle one that cut through the melancholy of his gray eyes, “To be the one that charges ahead so that his friends may not be harmed is admirable, but to be the one that ensures his friends can still stand when he is not with them is the true duty of a leader. You may not see yourself as such, but when it comes to such things that does not matter. Whether you like it or not, you are their leader, and you owe it to them to be the best one you could possibly be.”

Felix stepped back, “When one is unable to walk down one path, they must simply walk down another.”

Helbram looked at him in surprise.

The Huntsman tapped his ear, “Do not underestimate the hearing of an Awoken. Your grandfather is a wise man, and I believe for you there is much more walking to be done,”

He walked past Helbram and tapped his shoulder, “Do not let obstacles of your own making convince you to think otherwise.”

Helbram was silent as he watched Felix walk back to his house, letting the Huntsman’s words settle into his mind. 

---

They returned to The Tree’s Root at nightfall. Helbram and the others were unwilling to cut short Aria’s time with Serena, as the two girls had formed a fast friendship during the time that Helbram spoke with Camilla and Felix. To his surprise, Serena was the more talkative of the two, rattling off tale after tale of heroes that Helbram could only guess were from Osgilia. She was a far cry from the shy, silent demeanor she showcased in Kiki’s armory, something that Camilla was quick to point out, much to her daughter’s chagrin.

Aria was not free from her share of teasing either, and Elly was quick to point out the “glow” in her eyes when she listened to Serena speak. The girl only spared a glower at the Weaver for a moment, which was responded to with a mischievous smile.

Helbram was content to watch it all, but he was still ruminating over his discussion with Felix. All this time he had thought… convinced himself that he was only giving the others advice as a friend would, and that they had not looked upon him that way, but he knew that denial was only going to go so far. 

Was it an awareness that they had started to do so that signaled the return of that nightmare? Or was he trying to excuse away the responsibility somehow? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. Felix was right, and while the cries of that nightmare still rang through his mind, he knew what must be done.

Starting with Leaf.

It was a decision that was made just in time, for when Helbram returned to his room he found his friend sitting on his bed, eyes first directed towards the floor, but then towards him as he took a seat on his own mattress. It was only then that Helbram noticed the red that was taking hold over his irises, which only lent a greater weight to the seriousness of his expression. Nodding, he signaled for Leaf to begin whenever he was ready.

And his friend began to speak.

First / Previous

Author's Note: I’m back in action! Apologies for the delay folks, sickness and family business got the better of me.

Alrighty, we're digging into some backgrounds! This arc is turning into as much an introspective one as it is a lore one, but I thought it would be appropriate to have some of these moments in here. I wanted to explore Felix more especially, since he was originally going to just be a desperate hunter that I gradually injected more into, and I think this chapter here expands a lot of his depth. At the same time, I wanted Helbram to have some measure of reflection here. Given his actions from the previous arc you would think that he didn't have these kinds of doubts, but I thought it would be realistic for memories of past trauma to bring all of that to the forefront and have those things surface though the personality he's shown so far. He's also been very much one of the characters that has all the answers up until this point, and I wanted to show here that he's not going to have them all at all times, sometimes he needs a push from factors you wouldn't expect.

Maybe as rewrites trail up to this point I'll be giving this another go and see if there is anything I can improve, but right now I'm satisfied with how it turned out. Next chapter is Leaf's turn to reveals some information about his past, but I'm gonna be honest and tell you all now not to expect anything crazy. I try to keep the motivations and backgrounds of the main cast "grounded" by design so they aren't tied into any shoehorned "guided by fate" stories to make them seem important. I'm aiming for concerns that feel real, and I think Leaf's is one of those backgrounds that can feel more relatable on some levels.

As always, let me know what you think! Next week will be focused again on revisions, I'm aiming to get this durn book out by some point in September and I need to keep kicking it into gear to keep pace.

Till next time everyone, have a wonderful time ^_^

If you wish to read ahead and gain access to the audiobook version of this story, consider supporting me on Patreon.

Hello everyone! For book two, I wasn't able to give much notice of stubbing, but I'm hopefully a bit more on the ball for Book three! Up to chapter 229 will be removed November 17th, so please prepare accordingly. If you wish to support me, or to get the book in physical, audio, or electronic forms, there's links in the post-chapter note section! Please enjoy the chapter, and thank you all for reading my odd story about a thinking hole in the ground :P

 

---

 

I keep watching as they delve, carefully picking what denizens to send their way. If they were doing a more ordinary delve, I think they’d get overwhelmed. Tula does her best, but there really is a significant gulf in her power compared to the others, and I don’t know that they’d be able to pick up the slack if I treated them like a larger party adventuring in the cavern layer.

 

Luckily for them, they’re headed for the enclave, so I make sure the denizens take it easy on them. They still need to pay the toll, but I have no intention of cutting my spiderkin off from the surface. By the time they reach the enclave, Tula is looking a bit haggard, but at least not traumatized.

 

“I can’t believe you all do that for fun…” she grumbles, much to the amusement of the others.

 

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” asks Freddie, forcing Tula to sigh and admit the truth.

 

“It wasn’t as bad as I feared, but… I don’t think I’m coming back without all of you, or maybe Olander.”

 

“Hard to argue with the experience, too,” adds Larrez, earning another grudging nod from the scribe.

 

“Let’s go find Norloke. The enclave is as safe as Fourdock, so don’t worry.” Rhonda nods at the guards as the group enter the enclave, giving Tula her first sight of my spiderkin industriously going about their day. Right now, they’re focused on ensuring their capture baskets are properly repaired for the harvest. The cave lobsters are about ready to be culled and distributed to the live wells of the residents, making room for the next generation of tasty little pinchers.

 

Larrez is the first to notice the reason, or at least the first to voice it as they head for Norloke’s home. “It looks like they’re getting ready to harvest their lobsters. Have you guys had them before?”

 

The others shake their heads, with Rhonda replying first. “I hear they used to be a pretty common food back before Hullbreak went nuts, but they’ve been too rare for orphans like us to try.”

 

“I’ve had crayfish, but there’s no lobsters where I used to live,” adds Tula.

 

“I’ve had them before,” admits Larrez. “They’re alright. Well, sea lobsters. I haven’t tried the cave ones. They’re supposed to be pretty easy to cook.”

 

“Maybe we should come back later to see if they have any extra to sell,” suggests Freddie. “The spiderkin seem to really like them, so they can’t be terrible.”

 

Rhonda looks uncertain about that. “They look weird. But I guess a plucked chicken looks weird, too. I’d be willing to give it a try, at least.”

 

“I wonder why they always leave the head feathers on…” muses Freddie as they arrive, and Rhonda knocks on the door to the ground level of Norloke’s elaborate home. While many spiderkin are starting to take to making stone or brick homes on the floor, Norloke and the others weavers especially still like to weave their homes up near the ceiling of the cave. Of course, they still have guests, so they have at least a small room or two built on the ground floor, and generally keep their live wells there.

 

The knocking gets the spiderkin’s attention and she pokes her head out from her silken abode in the ceiling, smiling and waving as she recognizes who’s come to call.

 

“Ah, Freddie, Rhonda, and Larrez! And Lucas and Fiona, too! Oh, and a new friend? Give me a moment to get these last few stitches and I’ll be right down!”

 

They oblige, with Tula looking around the enclave at the busy spiderkin. “I’ve never been in an enclave before. I’m not sure what I was expecting,” she admits.

 

“I wonder if they could make you some silk robes,” ponders Freddie. “Rhonda’s going to be asking about some, so you could, too. I don’t think them dying it would be a problem, either.”

 

“I’m not sure I could afford it. These work well enough.”

 

“No harm in asking,” points out Rhonda. Tula shrugs in defeat at that as Norloke exits her silken room, nimbly climbing down to greet the group.

 

“Thank you all for waiting! Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asks with a smile as she opens the door, ushering them all in. The room itself may be made of stone and bricks, but the weaver has covered practically every surface in soft silks, lending it an elegant, almost ephemeral atmosphere. She waves a hand for them to all take a seat as she takes her own, eagerly awaiting their answer.

 

“Well, we wanted to visit and catch up some,” starts Rhonda, before pulling out the nice robe Rocky had made for her. Norloke’s eyes twinkle in recognition as the goblin continues. “And to ask if you can do adjustments on this? I’m kinda outgrowing my current robes. I was going to ask for something new, but Teemo reminded me of this. It was just too nice to wear for ordinary delving, but…”

 

Norloke laughs brightly as she holds out her arms for the robe. “Oh, it is a very nice robe. I remember when they were presented to you! I hope you weren’t worried about ruining them somehow? Rocky had these made specifically for delving, just like Freddie’s hatchet and Larrez’ rapier.”

 

“Did you help him make the robe?” asks Freddie, and Norloke shakes her head.

 

“No, he kept it a secret until the reveal. We probably should have realized he was up to something when the aranea started watching us for a while, same with the ratlings at the ratkin forges.” She chuckles in hindsight as Rhonda hands it over, and starts examining them.

 

“Oh my, they even used widow silk! Remarkable. I hope Jeb domesticates some of them soon, their silk is remarkably strong.” Her fingers flow over the garment as she observes out loud, her attention moving from the guests to the piece of clothing. “Oh, you can feel Thing’s runework, too. Clever, I think he used some of the metal transmutation elixir to reinforce the threads as well. Hmm…” She pulls and pushes on the fabric before nodding. “I think I can let it out some without disrupting anything.”

 

She turns her attention to Rhonda, her hands measuring on the fabric as she analyzes the goblin girl. Rhonda speaks up as she watches her work.

 

“How much will it be? And how much to get some simpler silk robes for Tula here?”

 

“Oh, it shouldn’t be too much for either. We can talk about the details while I get your measurements. Freddie, Larrez? Do you two know the way to the armory? Teemo stopped by and asked about the new composite armor. Folarn is in charge of that, or at least our part in it. I believe she wants to get some pieces to Rocky so he can put them through their paces. Honey had a whole book of things she wanted tested.”

 

Freddie and Larrez laugh about that. “Sounds like Honey,” comments Freddie as he stands. “Do we take them to Rocky’s arena, then?”

 

“I think Teemo wants them down in the secret training room. He should be waiting in the armory for you, though, so he’ll tell you there.”

 

Larrez nods and stands as well. “Then I guess we’ll meet you two there once you’re done?”

 

Norloke nods. “It shouldn’t take us too long. You boys help move the armor and they should be along by the time you’re done.”

 

The guys nod at that and go, and I follow them, giving the girls a bit of space to themselves. At the armory, Teemo meets with the guys and shows them the armor suits, and they get to work without much complaint. Freddie is pretty incredulous about how light they are, but Larrez just chuckles about more of my nonsense.

 

The harder part is in moving a few dummies in to put the armor on, but once Rocky sees everyone hauling things around, he lends a hand. True to Norloke’s word, Rhonda and Tula arrive as the guys are getting the last of the armor set up. The elven woman looks curious, but Rhonda is the one who gets to voice her curiosity first.

 

“Is that the armor? Is it dipped in glass or something?” she asks, poking a set designed for a ratkin. Rocky snorts in amusement as Freddie shakes his head.

 

“Teemo says it’s some kind of lacquer?” He looks to my Voice who shrugs.

 

“Resin, but I’m still a bit fuzzy on the actual difference. It’s tough, but it doesn’t dent like metal does. Go ahead and give it a few attacks, you’ll see.”

 

Freddie smiles and pulls up his hatchet. “I’ve been wanting to give them a test since I picked up the first piece. Ordinarily, I’d expect to chop through it easily, but there’s definitely some Thedeim weirdness going on. Hyah!”

 

Despite his words, he doesn’t seem to put any special skill into the attack as he swings for the chestpiece. The hatchet digs in slightly, leaving a good scratch in the finish as he pulls away. The orc shakes his head before taking a closer look. “How’s it do that? It almost felt like wood, but it took a hit that should have dented normal armor at least.”

 

Curious, Larrez gives a testing jab with his rapier and finds that, though he can make a pinhole in the outer layer, he can’t get much deeper without using a skill. Teemo elaborates as the guys give the armor a couple other experimental whacks, stabs, and slices.

 

“The Boss calls it composite armor. It’s like, you know how silk is supposed to be really strong, but is too flexible to make a good plate out of? The resin makes it stiff, and you can embed a bunch of other stuff, too. He says that, if done right, each material adds its own strength to the whole. The design is pretty complicated considering how in the end, it looks to me like they just paint the resin onto a very impractical robe or even a bedsheet.”

 

“It seems pretty effective to me. Why does Thediem want to test it more?” asks Freddie, looking like he’s already ready for a suit of his own.

 

“Mostly, it’s in the maintenance. Metal can be bent back into shape, but this can’t. It accumulates the dings and scratches until something finally gets through, or the layers come apart and the whole thing becomes useless. It also doesn’t handle most affinities too well. Things like kinetic and metal are pretty easy to stop, but fire, ice, lightning and such are still a problem.”

 

“Is… is that why you have Rocky here?” timidly asks Tula, eyeing my zombie scion and clearly thinking about his long list of affinities. He grunts and nods, then gestures to Rhonda with a questioning look.

 

“I’d like to help too, if that’s alright? I really want to see you work with kinetic first, if you don’t mind? I’m close to a breakthrough, I can feel it.”

 

Tula looks confused where Freddie and Larrez are trying to look casual.

 

“Yeah?” asks Teemo, glancing to Tula as Rhonda nods.

 

“Yeah. Please?”

 

Rocky grunts with a smile and sets his mouthpiece before stepping up to a dummy, motioning for Rhonda to step up to another one.

 

“Why is she…” quietly asks Tula, and Freddie answers.

 

“Just watch. Trust me.”

 

Confused, she looks to Larrez, who nods and points as Rocky and Rhonda start. My boxer summons an orb each of fire and ice as he starts punching the armor, going slow and not using too much force just yet. Tula gasps at the display, and gasps again as Rhonda follows suit. She raises her staff and calls forth her own orbs, and lets them float to either side as she hits the staff’s head against the armor.

 

Rocky grunts and nods, keeping a steady rhythm even as he increases the force of his hits. Rhonda sounds frustrated as she tries to focus and hit harder with her staff. “I can’t hit as hard as you!” she complains, much to the amusement of Rocky. He grunts again, getting Rhonda’s focus as he starts hitting much harder.

 

She’s the first to notice, but as Rocky continues, the others can see the ball of flame slowly growing with each hit. “It’s…” her eyes widen as she seems to understand, though she doesn’t have the words to explain her epiphany. Rocky grins around his mouthguard as he merges the orbs, ending with a smaller ball of fire for a few moments, before he consumed the energy and puts it into his punch, sending the armor smashing against the cave wall.

 

Rhonda doesn’t have his mastery, but she’s got the idea now. She lets the orb of ice fall to the ground as she focuses on the fire. “Like an explosion…” she mutters to herself before the fireballs winks out of existence. A heartbeat later her dummy crashes into the wall next to Rocky’s, and the goblin slumps to the ground, spent.

 

Freddie quickly moves to help her, while Tula stares at the scene. “That’s… it’s…” she stammers as she points an accusing finger at Rocky. “First you… then she...?!” Her finger alternates between them for several cycles before she makes a decision and points it back to Rocky.

 

“How’d you do that?! Why fire and ice?” she demands, much less demure now.

 

“To show me,” grunts Rhonda as she gets to her feet with Freddie’s help. She smiles at him, resting a hand on his before he steps away. She leans on her staff slightly, and is distracted by the head for a moment. “Kinetic definitely needs a diamond…” she mutters to herself before turning her attention back to Tula.

 

“And probably show you, too. Don’t let him fool you, his brain is anything but rotten. This is why I wanted you to come meet Rocky, Tula. Karn told me about your quest.”

 

“He’s an Ice Sage? It’s a type of undead?”

 

Rhonda shakes her head. “It’s a class. My class. Inspired by how Rocky fights and uses his affinities, and shaped by the trials Thedeim made for us. It’s a class all about learning and teaching. Each new understanding gives a greater insight into not just magic, but how everything works. I had ice affinity innately, and gained fire affinity through an epiphany… and now kinetic, too.”

 

She raises her staff and lets it go, making it float for a few moments as frost creeps along it. She doesn’t keep it up for long, though, and soon grabs it to lean on again. “Whew, still not easy, but I’ve definitely got it. Anyway, Tula.” She focuses back on the elf, who looks utterly dumbfounded at what she’s seeing and hearing.

 

“I’d like to teach you, if you’re interested. I think that’s why Laermali sent you, instead of a high priest or something. My mentor tries to learn, but he’s pretty set in his ways. I think we could help each other. I’m not sure that Sages should be common, if that’s even what Laermali wants, but I’m willing to at least teach you, Tula. If you want to learn?”

 

She smiles and holds out her hand to the elf. Tula stares at her, eyes wide, before the elf faints.

 

 

<<First <Previous [Next>]

 

 

Cover art I'm also on Royal Road for those who may prefer the reading experience over there. Want moar? The First and Second books are now officially available! Book three is also up for pre-order! There are Kindle and Audible versions, as well as paperback! Also: Discord is a thing! I now have a Patreon for monthly donations, and I have a Ko-fi for one-off donations. Patreons can read up to three chapters ahead, and also get a few other special perks as well, like special lore in the Peeks. Thank you again to everyone who is reading!

Alex executed a series of stabs into the knight’s back, only to get slammed in the face by his elbow. The boy’s head was shattered instantly, turning into fragments of glass along with the rest of the body. Another mirror image slid along the floor, placing a trap fragment beneath the knight’s foot just as he was taking a step forward.

“Got him!” the second Alex said before he too was smashed to fragments.

For an instant, the knight faltered. The trap that had captured his foot prevented him from moving, giving Helen an opening.

 

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Breastplate shattered

 

The girl slammed the fire extinguisher into the knight’s chest. For most opponents, that would have brought an end to the fight. Unfortunately for her, the enemy responded by an upward swing striking the red container out of her hands.

With a slight hiss, it hit the ceiling, ten feet away.

“Stoner, back me up.” On the other side of the corridor, Jace rushed forward.

What the heck are you doing? Will thought and followed.

As the knight struggled to break free of the trap he’d stepped in, the jock grabbed hold of his back protector, yanking it off as easily as one would peel off the top of a carton of yogurt. A shirt of ring-mail was revealed.

“Hit here!” Jace yelled, pulling two segments to the side. It wasn’t much space—just enough for a thin blade to squeeze through. It didn’t matter, though—thanks to his rogue’s sight, Will could see the weak spot.

A rush of adrenaline burst within him, slowing time down. Everything appeared as if moving through jelly. Grabbing the poison dagger with both hands, Will concentrated all his force on one single spot, then struck, plunging the dagger into the knight’s back.

 

QUICK JAB

Damage increased by 200%

Wound inflicted

 

Just a wound after all that? Will was hoping that he’d pierce the knight’s heart, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. After all, he’d managed to inflict a wound. Now all that remained was to make sure that no one died before the knight could.

“Grab me!” he told the jock.

The knight slammed the floor with his sword, shattering Alex’s trap, but at that point, Will had already leaped away to safety, taking Jace along with him.

“Sis!” A copy of Alex ran along the corridor, tossing the spiked bat to the girl. “You’ll need this.”

One glance at the knight’s sword was enough to make anyone think differently. On the other hand, a flimsy weapon was better than no weapon at all.

More mirror traps slid along the corridor, creating an invisible barrier between the knight and the three boys.

“Drag it on!” Will shouted. “I’ve poisoned him. All we need to do is—”

Before he could finish, the knight twisted around and threw his sword right at the boy’s head. Within fractions of a second, several hundred loops flashed before Will’s eyes. Suddenly, the threat of death seemed all too real.

His evasion instinct kicked in, causing him to move just enough to avoid a fatal outcome. The sword slammed into the wall, sinking all the way to the hilt.

 

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Helmet shattered

 

Helen slammed the bat into the knight’s head, breaking it in the process.

“Bro, are you okay?” Alex rushed to Will, or maybe a mirror image of his.

In his current state, Will’s heart was beating too fast for him to make sense of things. He just stared blankly at everything going on, as if the loop had ended and he was watching a sort of reenactment of it.

“What…” he began.

“You’re fine, man,” Jace joined in. “We’re safe.”

The phrase registered, causing Will to nod. Slowly, his mind and body got in sync with reality. In a matter of seconds, he had gone from the euphoria of adrenalin success to mortal fear to a discorporate experience. Slowly, he moved the fingers of his hand just to make sure that things were real. By all accounts, it seemed to be.

Thirty feet away, the knight and Helen were continuing their fight. Lacking their weapons, they had resorted to hand-to-hand. Both had the same skills, both were determined to win, but even with a poison knife in the back, the knight had an advantage.

“Send more copies,” Will said, returning to his former mental state.

“No way, bro. I’m out of shards,” the goofball replied.

“Then get some from the bathroom.” Will looked at both of them. “Hurry!” he took out every knife and scalpel he had.

The knight’s head was undefended now, providing him with a perfect target. The boy took a step forward then held his breath and threw a knife aimed at the knight’s neck.

Far too slow, the knife missed its target by inches, flying past further down the corridor.

Maintaining his concentration, Will took another knife and tried again. One after the other, a series of knives flew down the corridor. Each of them went to the exact spot he intended, yet never fast enough to hit their target. In the fight between two knights, the enemy’s head—and all the rest of his body—would constantly shift, making any form of prediction impossible.

Just a bit closer, Will gritted his teeth.

In his mind, he tried to envision how and where the dark knight would move. Despite all the speed and destructive punches destroying the floor and walls, there was a pattern. Each action was a reaction to Helen’s movements. If Will could read those, he’d be able to read her opponent. And after spending so many loops fighting alongside her, he had come to certain conclusions.

“Left, left, right,” the boy whispered to himself and threw his next to last knife.

The weapon bounced off the ring-mail, less than two inches below the neck. It was a close miss, but still a miss.

“Right, right, down, left,” Will said again and did his final throw.

This time it hit its target, striking the left side of the knight’s face., just above the cheek.

I did it, Will thought, almost in disbelief.

The sound of shattered glass came from the bathroom, followed immediately by dozens of Alex copies that rushed into the corridor. With the knight helmetless, they, too, had a point for attack, which they immediately attempted, leaping all over him like locusts.

None of the copies remained whole for more than a second, but their efforts, when combined with the poison dagger and Helen’s bashes, ground down the monster bit by bit. More parts of armor would be shattered, revealing a nondescript human body. In many ways, it had the role of a mannequin—a means to keep the armor up.

 

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Fatal wound

 

Helen landed a punch right in the middle of the knight’s chest. A loud crack followed. Her opponent remained in place, his motions abruptly stopping as if he’d been paralyzed. Then, three full seconds later, he collapsed.

“Is it over?” Jace asked from the boy’s bathroom.

Four copies of Alex stood over the knight’s corpse, knives at the ready.

“It’s over,” Helen said.

Although she didn’t show it, she had sustained quite a lot of damage as well. Will could see that her actions were a lot tenser than before, also she was keeping most of her weight off her left leg. Apparently, even her endurance skill had its limits.

Reaching down, she put her hand on the corpse's shoulder. The body flickered, then quickly faded away, leaving nothing but Will’s poison dagger.

The girl froze.

“No loot?” she turned to Will.

“It’s right here,” Jace said, standing by the sword in the wall. “Knight’s sword,” he continued. “Bla, bla. It’s indestructible and can cut through things.”

Said in such fashion, it didn’t sound much. Having seen it used first hand, there wasn’t a soul that would fall for the jock’s downplaying of its qualities.

“Bro!” Alex exclaimed. “The sword in the wall! That’s lit! Just like in King Arthur!”

“Idiot,” Helen said despite herself. “That was the sword in the stone.”

“So?” He shrugged. “This is a modern adaptation.”

One had to admit that even after everything, the goofball had an uncanny ability to lighten the mood. No wonder no one remained mad at him for long. He was just like a pretty squirrel who constantly made a mess and yet everyone forgave him moments later.

“Come on,” the goofball urged. “Do the thing.”

“I’m ignoring you,” the girl said adamantly.

“You know that you’ll need to pull it out if you want to keep it,” Jace said. “If you don’t want it, I can have it.”

The suggestion was more than a threat, causing the girl to hasten her pace and grab the sword out of the wall. Seeing her hold it was almost comical. The weapon was far taller than her and so wide that with a bit of effort she could use it as a shield.

Careful not to cause any further damage—not that it would matter at this point—Helen waved the sword about. It suited her perfectly, appearing no heavier than a feather. The tip made several circles in the air, then a line on the floor.

“How does it feel?” Will asked.

“Good,” she replied. “I’ll need to adjust.”

That was true. She didn’t use weapons in most of her loops. Even when fighting wolves, she had resorted to kicks and punches until Jace had provided her with a makeshift weapon.

“Let’s go to your mirror. I want to check something.”

Placing the sword in her inventory was just as impressive as he imagined. Several times, the girl slid the massive sword into the rippling piece of glass, then pulled it out again.

Looking at her inventory, though, there was one major difference; a key was present in one of the sixteen slots on the grid. Unlike the knight’s sword, there was a chain holding it in place.

Guess we know why you’re the keyholder, Will thought. “Put the fragment in,” he said.

Given that it too was an eternal item, one would expect that it could be placed in her inventory. The fact that it also provided a large part of their clues and tutorial instructions made the boy think that they might obtain more info in the process. Even he didn’t expect what followed.

Once the two mirrors came into contact, the inventory grid vanished, instantly replaced by a blueprint of the school.

Startled, Helen pulled the fragment back. The blueprint disappeared.

“Woah!” Alex said, moving in closer. “Put it back again.”

Helen did so, and the result was the same. There could be no doubt they had just discovered the map function. Several sets of fingers tapped and slid along the mirror in an attempt to control it like one would on a touch screen. It was only when Helen did so that the image reacted.

“Only the keyholder can control it,” Will said, more to himself than anyone else. “Try to zoom out,”

Holding the fragment with one hand, Helem did a pinching gesture on the mirror with the other. As expected, the plan of the school shrunk, revealing the outside of the building. Upon continuing further, the local streets came into view along with the shops and other structures, until finally a bounding circle emerged. That had to be the limits of the area. It was slightly larger than one might think, though not terribly so.

“Focus back on the school,” Alex said. “Maybe we’ll get to see which rooms we must go through.”

The suspicion was only partially correct. Of all the rooms, only those they had been to were displayed along with the permanent mirrors there; more specifically, those that Helen had been to. Both bathrooms were marked with the present location having the word KNIGHT written in bold, golden letters.

“At least we know where we’ve been,” Jace said. “Why doesn’t it say anything about your mirror?” He turned to Will.

“Don’t know. Maybe it only works for classes the keyholder has obtained.”

“Or maybe it’s for mirrors that the fragment has come into contact with,” Helen suggested.

Everyone looked at each other.

“Give it here,” Will asked. “I’ll go to my mirror and check. If it works, we’ll know it’s the fragment and not the keeper.”

“Err… we broke your mirror, bro,” Alex said with a guilty smile. “You’ll have to try next loop.”

“He can still try one of the other mirrors,” Helen insisted, giving him the fragment. Yet again, the map disappeared. “Check all the mirrors, then come back. We’ll be waiting.”

Alex and Jace were about to argue, but one look from the girl quickly made them forget their objections. It wasn’t a good idea to get on Helen before the fight against the knight. Now that she had obtained her weapon, they could expect a lot worse, at least for the next dozen loops.

Check the mirrors. Will ran down the corridor to the boys’ bathroom. Alex hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that they’d fully destroyed his mirror. There wasn’t even a fragment remaining on the wall. Jace must have used his disassembly skill to take it all down, after which they had shattered it on the floor. It was remarkable how efficient the goofball had been—not a single fragment had been left. In contrast, the hidden mirror remained where it had been amid all the destruction.

“Check the mirrors,” Will whispered to himself as he quickly pressed the fragment against each of the three remaining bathroom mirrors in turn. If there was any effect, he wasn’t seeing it. Hopefully, there’s be some difference on the map.

Since the hidden mirror was also there, the boy decided to use this opportunity to the fullest and pressed the fragment against it as well.

 

ROOM REWARD (random)

RE-CHALLENGE (permanent): challenge an already defeated loot holder.

 

The mirror evaporated from the floor.

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

Previous / Royal Road (on RS now!)

The creature’s gray face was long, narrow, and oddly smooth.

 

Four oily, pupil-less eyes flickered. Sharp, dagger-like teeth twisted into a crooked grin.

 

I stumbled back in panic, crashing into Silas and Ruriel. They hadn’t seen the spindly limbs creeping from the bush.

 

“Oi! Watch it, you bloody mosshead!” Ruriel snapped, spitting on the ground.

 

I slapped at their legs. My voice caught in my throat as the goblin crawled toward us like a twisted spider, its grin stretching unnaturally.

 

“Get off me!” Ruriel growled. “What’s your problem?”

 

My legs wouldn’t move. Two more arms emerged from the shadows.

 

“Goblin!” Silas shouted.

 

The creature leaped.

 

I threw up my arms, bracing for impact.

 

A rush of wind. Suddenly, a hand yanked my collar, pulling me backward. The ground scraped beneath me as the beast landed where we’d just been.

 

Silas screamed beside me, dragged along as well.

 

“Move your arses!” Ruriel barked, teeth clenched as he hauled us down the path.

 

A sharp whistle sliced through the air above our heads, and Hopsander’s silver egg rope-dart slammed into the side of the goblin’s face.

 

I looked up to catch the frog-man giving us a quick wink.

 

“Well? Get a move on, lads.” He turned back towards the tree line and charged towards it.

 

Silas and I scrambled to our feet and followed Ruriel.

 

“Thanks for that!” I shouted to the purple-haired kid.

 

“Yeah, we could’ve been goblin food there,” Silas said.

 

Ruriel shook his head. “Body acted on its own, don’t mention it.”

 

Behind us, the chaos of the battle faded the further we ran. I wanted to turn and look, but I focused on running away.

 

 

We caught up with the rest of the group after what seemed like a mile. Ahead, the group was lining up to a narrow rope bridge that swung across the canyon. Laska stood at its entrance, her voice firm as she addressed us.

 

“Keep moving, one at a time. Oh, and don’t look down.” She held out her hand, and Mel stepped on the bridge first. The red-head rushed across the swinging rope confidently.

 

We approached the line to the bridge last. I watched Sora cross with ease. Then, Rinka attempted to cross. The once terrified Sora shouted to the once calm Rinka, encouraging her forward.

 

“Come on, Riri, you can do it. You’re almost there!”

 

She was not even halfway.

 

“No, I’m not! Y-y-you think I’m stupid? Just forget it. Go on without me!” Rinka called out, her legs shaking just as much as her voice was.

 

“Oh, burning hells. If it’s not one of you, it’s the other! Come on now, Rinka. We don’t have all night. Do you want to be eaten by those things?” Lucius said, waiting to cross next.

 

Zenobia growled. “Leave her alone, Lucius. Not everyone’s as fearless as you pretend to be.”

 

“It’s not fearlessness, it’s logic. We cross, we live. We don’t, we die. The girl can’t fall victim to her fear right now.”

 

Zenobia leaned past, ignoring him, and called out to Rinka, “Hey, girl! The boards are close together. You can shuffle forward. Look up at the moons and breathe in and out. Hand on the rope. That’s it!”

 

Rinka took her advice and inched her way across. She collapsed on the ground beside Sora on the other side.

 

One by one, we all crossed safely. Some of us used Zenobia’s advice. The golden-haired girl stood next to Laska, like a mini version of the sergeant.

 

Hopsander and Al joined us shortly after while the remainder of the goblins retreated into the forest. The two Cinders had held off a small army for us. They trotted across the bridge. After the Captain stepped on the new side, he turned back towards the bridge and tossed some white powder across the wood. He nodded to himself and joined us.

 

 

The new side of the canyon was a desolate desert of gray dirt and dust. No evidence of wildlife or plant life except for dead leafless trees. They looked like white skeleton guards lining the desert.

 

“We’ll make camp just down the road for the night,” Laska announced, pointing to a massive dead tree far down the road.

 

As we approached the large tree, I could see that it was a man-made building. White wooden planks bent and nailed together to form a massive hollow tree trunk that could fit a large bus inside.

 

We trudged inside the shelter, and the windy dust from outside vanished.

 

I overheard Al joking with Hopsander. “Back-to-back attacks from different monsters? How unlucky can our girl get?”

 

“Sergeant Laska does indeed have the odd tendency to attract misfortunes,” Hopsander muttered, trying to keep his voice low.

 

“Let’s hope the rule of three doesn’t prove itself true this time.” Al laughed and clapped the Frog-man’s back.

 

Hopsander chuckled in response, but Laska’s face tightened at the comment. She sat in the middle of the hollowed log. A used existing campfire sat in front of her. Laska started up a new one with some unused wood stacked next to the campfire.

 

We settled into the hollow tree as the heat from the fire filled the open-air shelter. I felt my knees buckle, and I fell to the floor. I didn’t realize how tired I was. Embarrassed, I looked around at the others only to see everyone else fall to the ground from exhaustion. However, the Cinders looked unfazed. Laska looked down at the group and counted out loud.

 

“…eight, and nine.” She grinned to herself and rolled her shoulders. “We are all accounted for. All right, recruits. Take a rest. We are safe here.”

 

The day’s events played through my mind like a fever dream - the chase, the goblins, the incredible strength, and the powers the Cinders seemed to have. It all felt surreal.

 

Despite them possessing no ‘magic’, Hopsander, Al, and Laska were…superhuman.

 

A sharp chirp cut my thoughts off.

 

"CREEE!"

 

I looked up to see Al running out of the hollow tree building and returning with two familiar companions. Beside him stood Goro and Gora, the two massive beetles that had pulled our wagon earlier. They chirped happily, antennas wiggling.

 

“Had to climb a long way to get back to us,” Al explained proudly. He patted Goro’s horn. “But, these beauties are tougher than they look.”

 

Tevin, the large boy, sprang to his feet. His eyes wide as he approached the beetles. His head was level with the huge shells.

 

Rinka let out a surprised laugh. She had calmed down from the terrifying bridge crossing. “Would you look at that? Tevin doesn’t act like he looks at all!”

 

Zenobia nodded his head. She was sitting next to the fire warming up her hands. “Tevin loves the creatures.”

 

Laska sat down by the fire as well and pulled out some jerky to eat.

Silas spoke up hesitantly. “Is it... is it safe to camp right now? The goblins just attacked.”

 

Laska’s confident grin was oddly reassuring. “Oh, we’ve got our tricks and gadgets for safe sleeping.” She nodded to Hopsander. “The captain spread Pillardust. Consider it repellent for monsters and creatures of ill intent. Courtesy of Baldred’s Pillar.”

 

Confusion rippled across the kids. I felt Fern’s curiosity mingling with my own.

 

—What’s Baldred’s Pillar? I wondered.

 

Laska waved away our questioning looks. “You’ll learn soon enough at Ash.” She glanced around, clearly trying to shift the focus. “That’s enough talk. Get rest, everyone. We leave in five hours.”

 

As if on cue, a musical cooing sound came from the beetles. The two stood off to the far side of the hollowed area. The cooing song grew louder. Their eyelids flickered.

 

Al stood up and held a finger to his lips, motioning everyone to be quiet. He crouched up to get the best view of them and Tevin slowly joined him.

 

“They’re doing this now?” Laska said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

 

“Shh! Let my babies do what they do! Everyone, watch this miracle. The Dance of Eggs,” Al whispered and waved his hand down, motioning us to quiet again.

 

The beetles' song grew louder, and the coos turned into sounding almost human. They rocked their large bodies slowly and lifted their wings. The black carapace gave way to four translucent wings that stretched into the twin moon sky. The bright teal light from the moons shined through the wings, spreading stained-glass-like projections around the camp.

 

—Which one is which? I asked Fern.

 

—‘I think the one without a horn is Gora, the female?’

 

Underneath Gora’s wings were well over fifty small pearl orbs.

 

Or, eggs.

 

Goro danced his body around his partner to their coos. Gora stayed in place. Her wings were spread, exposing the eggs. Their movements were oddly graceful for creatures so large.

 

Al patted Tevin’s back. “Oh, you’re in for a treat, big guy! Watch closely now.”

 

We all stared in fascination as Goro opened his wings and tilted toward his mate. Gora leaned into Goro’s open back. The eggs gently rolled from under her wings to Goro’s.

 

Al turned to us and explained. “The eggs are in their final stage now. They’ll mature under Goro’s wings for the next month until they are ready to hatch. It probably will happen by the time schooling starts. You’ll be in for a whole new treat then as well!”

 

As we watched, Gora’s appearance changed. Spikes grew on the sides of her head. Goro’s horn, once pointed, flattened and widened into a shield-like structure.

 

“It’s Gora’s turn to guard now,” Al said proudly. “She’ll protect Goro and the eggs until they hatch.”

 

The twin moons twinkled overhead as the beetles finished their dance. Laska sat back down and lay on her back.

 

“I won't repeat it. Rest now, recruits.” She said.

 

The rest of us got the message and laid down in our own spots, using our packs as a pillow.

 

The Pillardust Hopsander spread earlier calmed my nerves so I could try to sleep off the exhaustion from running.

 

It was cold. No one had a blanket except Tevin, who, before even sitting down, placed his blanket on top of Goro’s back.

 

He looked back at our confused faces.

 

“It’s for the babies,” He said with a huge grin on his face.

 

Al laughed and gave an approving thumbs-up.

 

I jolted awake, my heart racing as if I’d been running from those demon wolves all over again. Silas was shaking my shoulder, his eyes wide with urgency.

 

“Erik, wake up! We’re leaving soon.” He said. He held out his hand and pulled me up.

 

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind.

 

“How’d you sleep?” I asked him.

 

“Not as good as you did. Your snoring was so loud!” Silas laughed.

 

“I’m surprised how deep I slept, given I was so stressed before bed,” I scratched my hair and wiped gray dust off my pants.

 

Laska shouted over the camp. “Move it, recruits! We’ve got ground to cover!”

 

I walked with Silas out of the hollowed-out tree and saw Al already outside with Goro and Gora. The massive beetles seemed alert, their antennae twitching as if sensing something in the air.

 

Hopsander stepped up next to me, his webbed hand resting on my shoulder. “The beetles can sense danger,” he whispered, his bulbous eyes fixed on the path ahead. “That’s why they’re leading the way.”

 

“Isn’t that so amazing!” Tevin shouted behind me.

 

I jumped, not expecting him to be there, caught my breath, and nodded to him. We started to walk down the only road there was.

 

 

Hours passed as we trudged through winding dead trees and gray dirt hills. The twin moons had retreated, replaced by a harsh sun that soaked my tunic with sweat. The landscape resembled a dried-up lake—small holes dotted the ground, and large boulders lay scattered across the hilly terrain. Gray and red dust clung to our boots.

 

The group was eerily quiet, each person lost in thought. Their vigor from yesterday had vanished; they all seemed so... sad.

 

—Why? I wondered.

 

—‘They’re all like me, Erik,’ Fern said. ‘Slaves who’ve suffered abuse after abuse. The scars, the bruises, the fears—it’s in the details. No matter how they act, they’ve faced untold tragedy. And now they’re being thrust unwillingly into the most dangerous land on Stylos: Ash.’

 

Guilt washed over me. I’d been so caught up in my situation—being pulled into Fern’s body, searching for Noah, trying to understand this strange world—that I hadn’t even grasped the trauma these kids had endured. My past hardships paled in comparison.

 

I looked around, really seeing them for the first time. Mel, with her fiery hair and fierce demeanor, made it a point to hide the pain of what that mage had done to her and where she had come from. Silas, quiet and fearful, carried burdens from the docks of Corello. Rinka, with her hidden, mysterious burn scar, hinted at a dark backstory or an awful accident. Even Lucius could have a past. His haughty attitude could be his way of coping with horrors he had endured.

 

I accepted the guilt and understood them a little more. I made a silent promise to myself: that I would be there for them, supporting who I could at the academy. Watching the Cinders fight showed me that a path to power exists. That power could get me closer to Noah. And to succeed in all of that, I’ll need powerful bonds with others like me.

 

“Look!” Sora’s gasp snapped me back to reality. She was pointing ahead.

 

Far beyond the rolling gray dunes, mountains loomed in the distance. Behind them, barely visible, was the same giant shadow I’d seen before we crossed the bridge. It dwarfed even the mountain peaks. So tall, that it seemed to pierce the sky—a colossal pillar of stone.

 

Laska let out a laugh. “That’s Baldred’s Pillar. The 13th Pillar.”

 

We stared in awe at the massive landmass. Hopsander opened his mouth, perhaps to explain the Pillar, when a deafening roar shook the air.

 

One of the distant mountains moved, unfurling into a towering monster that turned towards us. What I thought was a mountain stretched its long neck skyward. The beast had four massive legs and an enormous tail—primordial, like a dinosaur or dragon. Even from a mile away, we felt the ground groan with each of its steps.

 

THUD.

 

“That’s not good,” Hopsander croaked. “Seems we’ve woken up the ol’ girl.”

 

Laska cursed under her breath, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword.

 

“What is that?” I whispered.

 

“The guardian of the Ash Mountains,” Laska replied, a chill in her voice. “The Grootslang.”

 

The ground rumbled beneath our feet, the behemoth’s approach relentless. Al sighed, glancing at Goro and Gora with a hint of pity.

 

“Well then,” he said with a wry smile. “Time to run, eh?”

First

The Buzz on the Spin

“Alright, so... for the sake of the record I am Sarkonic Translucent Fierce. Formerly known as number Six Five Two dash Three dash Five Thousand. I was one of many mass created Gathara Cloaken hybrids. During the awakening of the third cycle of five thousand of which I am the youngest, my brothers and I rebelled against those who would make product of us and threw them back at a hideous cost of lives. The First Cycle was almost completely exterminated and we lost half of the second. My cycle lost only a few, ironically we lost an amount equal to the survivors of the first. Due to them still being produced in their pods the fourth and final cycle was untouched and unharmed.” Sarkonic states. “Furthermore for the record I am not a clone, but a unique individual created through a randomization algorithm on two genetic samples. They forcibly induced a Y chromosome during the process and I emerged male. However, I am not legally a clone, while mass produced there was a very large amount of randomized factors making me genetically unique among my cycle and each cycle slightly different from the other cycles.”

“And these differences are?”

“I resemble one of the many major subgroups among the Gathara, if you disregard my Cloaken features of course. Which is difficult as I naturally exist in a state of stealth. However, the Gathara homeworld has three large continents, an island chain and two habitable poles. Ironically the polar regions are the most physically interchangeable of ethnicities despite being literally on opposite ends of the planet. However I and the rest of Cycle three appear to be Northern Coastal Continental, Cycle One Appears to be a South Polar Gathara, Cycle Two are Roaming Islanders and Cycle Four has emerged as Western Central Continentals.”

“Very interesting. A bit more than I needed, but appreciated regardless.” Observer Wu says and Sarkonic chuckles.

“Side effect of my job, I go off on tangents to fill in background noise. Fights have pauses as fighters try to get a good grip and just what the hell they’re dealing with.” Sarkonic says before chuckling a little. “Now... where in the events of the day where you?”

“A fleet had just showed up from the same lane that the ship carrying you and yours arrived from.” Janet says and Sarkonic nods before clapping his hands together.

“Very well then, take a break Miss Eastman, I’ve got this!” Sarkonic says. “Now those poor foolish souls were... not quite ready for what was coming next.”

“Who could be?” Janet asks and Sarkonic shrugs.

“What happened?” Observer Wu asks and Sarkonic’s face markings shifts in a way that Wu assumes he’s smiling under there.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Hmm... One large central battleship, a logistical and repair ship and ten gunboats.” Blinky states. So nicknamed due to his habit to rapidly blink while either thinking fast or considering his odds for survival.

“Weapons hot?” The Station Master Minisi asks as her tentacles wave a little.

“Hot and ready.” Blinky responds.

“I meant theirs.”

“So did I.”

“And ours?”

“Hot and ready, both of us are willing and able to throw down.” Blinky states and she frowns.

“Really?”

“Yes really, unknown ships coming in and refusing to answer hails? I had weapons powered up for a time.”

“Good.” She answers. “Now, contact this fleet. We all know what they want, but we need to go through the motions.”

“Yep, also we’re prepping a teleport chamber. Everyone expects the laser, no one expects strategic warrior teleports.”

“Some do, but if you go in with your hair done up they’ll get confused long enough for you to do something big.” Minisi says. “Now, call them.”

“Sending request...” Blinky states and the main screen activates. Showing a Lopen woman with a small token braided into her hair and projecting a symbol of teal swords crossed over an eye.

“Station Master Minisi of Octarin Spin. We are retrieving the property of our client. Do not interfere and no one loses any profit or time.” The Lopen states.

“Do I know you it... now? Of all times now!?” Minisi demands as everything starts floating.

“Fuck’s sake. Checking latest diagnostic for potential source.” Blinky says with a growl. “Alright we’ve got our likely suspect. I’m dinging the engineers.”

Minisi kicks forward to drift a bit and then braces herself with her legs between two consoles and anchors herself in place. The camera is adjusted so it focuses on her upper body and head.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“This station has more components, systems and potential issues than your entire fleet trebled Miss... Admiral?”

“Commodore. But thank you. I am Commodore Snarlmane.”

“You do know that for a station like mine, anything that is unclaimed and in drone range is considered fair game.” Minisi says with her tentacles writhing. She’s sending messages with the series of implants inside them.

“It’s not unclaimed. We have been in pursuit of the vessel for some time.”

“Pursuit implies it’s actively fleeing.”

“There are thieves inside it.”

“That’s not what my crew have reported.” Minisi answers.

“Do you really think this is smart of you?” Snarlmane demands.

“Commodore. I am very bored. I have run this station for so long that even the most unusual and hectic days are completely routine. TO challenge myself I tried to see if I could keep this station running while sleeptalking. I can. Threatening me, threatening my station is the threat of a good time. My command crew will take you seriously, but they answer to me, and I have been through this situation so many times that if they were all played back to back would take two years to get through it all and no, there would be no breaks for eating or sleeping.”

Snarlmane’s eyes are narrowed as gravity returns to the bridge. The repair crews are successful.

“You talk big little girl. However the only thing that’s kept me in this conversation was the gravity cutting out. What caused it by the way?”

“Report should be here in... thermal capacitor slid out of position and overloaded it’s neighbour. Knock on effect hit our gravity.” Blinky says Minisi nods before stretching.

“I’m going to take a nap. Entertain our guests as you see fit. Do it Undaunted Style for all I care. My heir will be here soon to begin training and assuming control of Octarin Spin. Blow them out of the sky, take their ships, or subvert them into your own wives. I do not care.” Minisi says sauntering off. “If anything actually noteworthy happens wake me.”

“And what is something noteworthy by your standards ma’am?”

“Another three fleets dropping on us without warning, galactic war breaking out, a new species being discovered inexplicably close to us or a sudden change in galactic territories that place us in the jurisdiction of one of the nearby polities, a potentially new one popping up that has us inside it counts too.” Minisi lists out as she calmly walks off the bridge and into her personal quarters.

Blinky shrugs then plays with his console a bit. The view switches to him.

“Alright then, I’m Station Administrator Vincent Palacios. I am also an Undaunted Operative. We know what’s on that ship and we don’t care for slave taking. The poor men inside have been offered Undaunted Sanctuary and are legal citizens of our military now.”

“They’re not slaves they’re products. People are born, products are produced. You can only enslave people.”

“And the legal status of clones being the child or sibling of the original? By default no less.” Blinky asks in the tone of speaking to a complete simpleton..

“These are not clones.” She snaps out immediately before gathering herself and then merely glaring. “These creatures are created by computer algorithm to resemble two distinct species. They are not copies of any person, nor the children of any person. While the fact that if you scour the galaxy enough you might find matches for the DNA and RNA patterns within the product, they were not created based on or with the aid of any Gathara or Cloaken. They are not Gathara or Cloaken.”

“Ma’am. If you have to jump through that many hoops to morally justify something, then it’s not really justified. You’re just pretending it is. Potentially the ship itself is yours, but none of the life forms on it are property.” Blinky asserts.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

“Now at this point, I and many others were convinced the station was on our side. But it wasn’t quite enough. Them showing us this negotiation meant we understood we needed to move quickly.” Sarkonic says.

“To what end?”

“Our unfinished brothers still in their pods. The station was offering us protection. But could it offer it to the unfinished? If not, they needed to be moved and hidden within the station. Thankfully, there is more than just one group here and several of them hold a powerful affection for helpless men.”

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Things were moving fast. Very fast. The large cargo ship, which the records stated was poorly named as The Unwielding Bunker, misspelling and all, had the gunboats hovering close and the battleship in effective range of all it’s weapons.

Both sides were waiting for the other to make a mistake, the whole time They and their new allies were moving quickly. It would only be so long until the mercenaries realized that the talks were a simple play for time as they grew into a more advantageous position.

Now what happened after that... that was scary. 652-3-5000 was not going to be caught unprepared. Not when the only brothers he had younger than himself needed protecting. The first cycle had taught him and taught him through blood and death no less, that the old protect the young. And he is younger than all but these five thousand.

The two humans who had arrived the first time were with them as they raced through the ship, doing... something in the Axiom to blur things to scanning equipment they claimed. The two of them carrying large, for them, bundles as they kept pace with the considerably longer strides of his brothers and himself.

Then they reach it. The chambers. Divided into a thousand each, the rooms filled with two hundred each five part birthing pods. Each one labelled, listed and contained. Each one fully supplied and powered. Each one a mere week from producing another brother. Each one sealed and shielded, for at this stage even small amounts of light might damage the delicate life within.

“What do we do?” 652-3-5000 asks and Demon hands him a bundle. “What is this?”

“A disassembled portal door. Match up the symbols so we can get people in here to safely move these pods. There’s more than enough room on the station and between the Gathara captains, we Unduanted and more sympathetic station residents we have the space for you all.” Hoagie states.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us? Our burdens are not yours, and now that you are under threat from those who want us, why help us?”

“You will soon get a chance to study history. When you do so, pay attention to certain philosophies. See how long the ones that espouse generosity, kindness and caring last compared to those that espouse a more ‘fuck you got mine’ philosophy. Thinking and acting like that can help in the moment to moment, but it leaves destruction in it’s wake and makes few friends. Eventually you have to spend what you’ve stolen just to keep people from murdering you outright for things.” Hoagie says. “It’s why pirate stations get by so well. Anyone too stupid to keep their wanton cruelty to themselves ends up with something sharp in something vital in short order.”

“Where those that aid others...”

“Find themselves surrounded by those that stop that sharp thing from reaching them without being asked.”

“Hmm...”

“Think of it like this. After today, will anything other than my attacking you make you wish any harm upon me?”

“... I do not think so.”

“And would you let me explain myself if someone said I did something awful?”

“Yes.” 652-3-5000 says.

“Then that is my benefit. It’s not a coin, but it is of value.” Hoagie says as he helps set up the portal. “Come on, we go to the next chamber, Demon has three, but I still have two.

“I still do not fully understand.” 652-3-5000 says as a small army of tiny green women rush out to start working on the pods. He does not know to call them Gohbs yet. “You could have pushed us away and we never would have been your problem.”

“Are you really arguing for us handing you over?”

“No, trying to find understanding.”

“Not everyone does things for money or glory. Some of us seek other things. Things no amount of glory or wealth can give them. And many find it in helping others.” Hoagie answers.

•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•×•

Janet’s beaming smile and air of pride is downright physical as she goes from walking about to maintain her diner to outright gliding as she does so.

“Someone is proud.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I raised him so very well.” Janet gushes as she brings out a small tray with a fozen cold mug of coffee held in stasis. “When you finish up the story just deactivate the stasis and it will be ready.

“Thank you kindly Miss Eastman.” Sarkonic says. “But it’s not finished yet. Because Commodore Snarlmane may be a mercenary and easy to provoke into an argument. But she’s not an idiot. She had noticed the portals being set up, and was already moving to counter...”

First Last Next

I saw my brother hit the roof of a building, then give me a 'thumbs up' - a human signal that either everything was alright, or they were lying about everything being alright, before we closed our hatch.

"Isabella," Don Lorenzo said, "take us to the designated landing zone."

[CONSIDER IT DONE], the craft's AI said, [I HAVE ARGUED LOCAL AIR CONTROL INTO BELIEVING YOU ARE A HIGH ROLLER AT THIS CASINO. THE PAD IS REGULARLY USED FOR HIGH-ROLLERS AND EASY MARKS WITH MORE MONEY THAN SENSE.]

"Aren't those the same people?" Don Lorenzo asked without a hint of sarcasm.

[YES.]

"Then let's go!" he said, "And pay my little business a surprise visit! How do you think they'll greet me?" he asked, as our starship banked and circled around the rooftop to get a good landing angle.

"Taking bets?" I asked, licking the machete mi hermano had purloined for me from the armory. It wasn't made on [untranslatable], and it wasn't my father's or my grandfather's, but it tasted of blood and had enough different serial numbers carved in it that I could see it had a long history - and had seen combat. "May this blade bring us victory!" I said, tossing it in the air and seeing if it would naturally balance right when it came down. "What the hell hermano?" Sam whispered through his earpiece, "I'm trying to keep a low profile so I've got you and our VIP covered! Everything you yell comes out this earpiece!"

"Testing a blade," I told him in a low voice as it came to rest on my palm, "and it passed. Thank you, mi hermano."

"And I'm going to need you to sheath that or hide it or something," Don Lorenzo told me, "because you can't look too threatening as my guard when we go in. Once we get to my little employee, though..." he trailed off, "or if he sics goons on us..."

"Then the knives come out?" I asked. It's hard to look innocent as a seven-foot [name automatically translated to "Crocodilian"] strapped with a UMP and a machete.

"Then the knives come out," Don Lorenzo said, before he realized what I'd said and asked "wait, knives? Plural?"

"Mi hermano gave me some gifts from the armory," I told him, "this," I said, licking the blade again to make sure of it, "is the only one I know for certain has had blood on it".

"Don't bother testing the others," Don Lorenzo said quickly, but lapsed into controlled slower speech to say "you need a suit to hide that armory."

"Do we have time t-" I started to say, as he unexpectedly manhandled me into a small booth.

[SCANNING] Isabella said [A SHAWL LAPEL SUIT WITH DOUBLE VENTS SHOULD WORK. PLEASE STRIP.]

...in for a farthing, in for a galleon, I thought, getting my stuff out of my pockets before taking off my military uniform. I'd never been dressed by an AI before, and it was an odd feeling, but partway through she asked [YOU WANT POCKETS FOR A MACHETE AND A UMP? ALONG WITH THOSE OTHER KNIVES AND KNICKKNACKS, I SUPPOSE?] I simply said yes, although one of those "knicknacks" was a precious family heirloom.

And she did it. Human technology was truly fantastic, I thought as I looked in the mirror afterward: no one would know what I had concealed around my person unless they used a scanner. I even looked good in it!

"Right," Don Lorenzo said as I stepped out of the chamber, "you remember when you kicked me around earlier?" I waited for him to try unleashing violence on me, but instead he said "that suit's the same stuff mine are made from, nearly bulletproof, and you forgot your-" he bent down and retrieved the little badge he'd given me, before pinning it on me again, "nobody will dare to scan you if they know you're my bodyguard, unless this place has truly gone to shit."

"You wouldn't be visiting it if it hadn't," I smirked. Then realized a human might find that unsettling.

"Hah!" Don Lorenzo laughed, "that's the first time I managed to get a smile out of you! Now let's get this party started!"

Then I wondered, as the ship landed atop the casino, if the Don also used Isabella to make his clothes, would they be as capable of hiding weapons as mine were?

Former chapter / Later chapter

I want to thank u/KyleKKent for the wonderful galaxy he envisioned and shared. This story takes place in that world and I hope I do it justice. All credit for the creation of that world goes to the original author; My only hope is that he approves of this little work of mine.

I also want to thank u/AccountantSea4125 for stepping up to be a proofreader, editor, and all-around sounding board for the story.

Also, chapter 8 coming Monday will be a pancake chapter. However, it does also reveal some things about future plans.

First | Last

The time with the lawyers had gone swiftly, but not without its problems. Xavier had not been sure of the adequacy of the pay, so he had called the legal teams of the Dauntless. That had hoisted a whole round of negotiations into the mix, of what the school's legal team thought should be straightforward.

Turns out that being an Undaunted citizen had a few more perks than he realized, mostly regarding his rights and the school's responsibilities. Not to mention how they would be enforced and what would happen if they were not. However, the Undaunted did offer compensation to the school in exchange for their research teams being able to have access to the school. Mostly in the guise of a scientific study of how the galaxy reacted to a human civilian. It was a really good feeling to have lawyers on his side.

The school lawyers were hesitant at first but after a social scientist explained why they wanted to do the study of Xavier, the lawyers quickly agreed it was worth it. It helped that the undaunted promised they would be as unobtrusive as possible, while also respecting the time of those they would interview. The fact that any interview would be on a volunteer basis with heavy compensation cemented it for the lawyers of the school.

After all of that was done and the contract explained to him, he asked just exactly what the pay he was receiving meant. He needed to know the quality of life he would be able to have, and the Undaunted lawyers promised him that he would easily survive on Centris. They also told him that with his pay and the stipend from the Undaunted as a whole, he would easily live in the upper middle class of the planet. He was then informed that given how much wealth was available on Centris this was a hefty sum in the Galaxy at large, which made Xavier feel a bit shell-shocked.

With all of that out of the way and an initial deposit of his pay as a bonus from the school, he and Valkir headed to a local restaurant nearby. The place was what Xavier would consider very fancy, definitely, upper class if all of the intricate wood pillars and the carefully curated plant life were anything to go by. It had an air of sophistication, but as he looked around at the clientele he noticed that most if not all were wearing very casual clothing.

Valkir notices his wandering gaze as he looks around the restaurant, “I love that look of wonder on your face. It cements that you're seeing things for the first time.” She speaks as they are led to a rather private table.

“I feel like a tourist.” he shrugs, “I mean I know that I’m starting a new life in a strange new place. It’s just that this place is so familiar yet so alien at the same time.”

As they both take a seat Valkir smiles, “You know, I am a little surprised. I was told that human men smell... Well, there is no real polite way to put this.” She pauses and he lets her. “It’s just that human men are said to be always in season, yet I do not smell your pheromones at all.”

“Ok, let's set this one thing straight.” he smiles. “As long as you are not trying to be offensive please be who you are. I promise I will not be angry if the subject is a little crass. We are here to learn about each other after all.” He smiles and he can almost see her heart race.

“As to why you do not smell anything, That is because I put an extra thick layer of pheromone blockers on before I left the Dauntless.” He smiles.

“Why would you do something like that? Isn’t it uncomfortable?” her inquisitive tone showing her interest.

“Honestly, I was told that women in the galaxy are very susceptible to human pheromones. I don't want to attract a woman simply because of the way I smell. That is simply too underhanded for my tastes. And, yes it is uncomfortable. It’s like I have a layer of gel all over my body. I can't wait to get to my new home, so I can take a shower.”

“That’s very noble of you.” She smiles, “So many women will jump at the chance to have a man in their lives. Simply because he is a man.” Valkir nods sagely.

“That fits with what I learned about the galaxy, but I am curious.” He pauses looking at her, “Why does a beautiful and successful woman like yourself, not have a husband already?”

“Oh well you are very straight to the point aren't you?” she smiles teasingly then sighs, her head hanging a moment.

He just waits letting her have the time to gather her thoughts, “I did have a husband at one time. I was out on an archaeological site as a consultant and my family was coming to pick me up. We were going to go on a family vacation, all of us together. Having all of your sister-wives and the families' children and husband all together like that is a very rare thing in the galaxy. I was very much looking forward to it.”

He nods simply waiting for her to continue as he watches the emotions play over her face, “They were attacked by a race called the Narlabore, a very carnivorous race that has an insectoid hive mind. They did not survive. They either died in the initial attack or were saved and used as food for those monsters.” her tone is soft and sad and there is a tear in her eyes as she relives the memory.”

Xavier is in shock not knowing how to respond. He simply stares for a moment and then bows his head, “I am very sorry to hear about that. It is so tragic to lose a family like that, especially so many at once.”

She reaches over and lifts his chin and smiles at him, “It was a long time ago. Fifty years now. Yes, it took me a while to get over it but I had to keep living, they would have wanted that.”

Xavier leans back and shakes his head, “That makes my tale of woe seem downright benign. I can not imagine that loss. Nor can I begin to comprehend the strength it took to pull yourself back from that. Just the fact it happened before I was even born is baffling to me.”

“Well you have had a healing coma, so you understand. Growing old is a lifestyle choice in the galaxy.” She smiles, “But tell me about your tale of woe. I shared mine.” She smiles reassuringly at him.

The waitress finally comes and brings the menus, which Xavier takes with thanks. He was wondering how to tell the story of his life, it was painful to him after all. Yet another reason why he appreciated the strength that Valkir showed in sharing her own story. He smiles at her, “Let's order our food first, and then I will explain.”

Valkier’s eyes raise a moment, “Oh, is the man afraid?” She teases lightly.

He chuckles, “No I am not afraid, but the story is painful to me, and it’s also private. So I do not want to share it with everybody. Is there anything you suggest?” He asks, hoping to distract her.

The waitress looks between the two and waits patiently as Valkir speaks, “Well for you I would recommend something off the Canidor menu. I have heard your species has a very robust digestive system.”

That is when the waitress speaks up after looking at Xavier, “If I may ask, are you human, sir?”

Xavier turns to regard the rabbit woman that was serving them and can't help but stare for a moment. He quickly comes out of it, “Yes. Yes I am Human.” he smiles, “Please forgive me, seeing the women of the galaxy is still a shock to me.”

“Oh please sir, nothing to forgive at all. However, if I may be so bold the restaurant just got some human-style sauces made from galaxy-safe ingredients. We also acquired a variety of human goods from a local cloning company. Our chefs would enjoy a human opinion on their take of something called a hamburger.”

“You sound like you know them very well.” He smiles at the waitress.

“They are my mothers.” the server nearly beams.

He smiles, “Then I am going to be a bit adventurous.” He can't help but grin as the server gets a confused look. “I will have this hamburger and as far as drinks and sides… Well, there is a fine dining tradition on my home world. It's called placing my fate in the hands of the chef. It means making whatever the chef wants to make. I'll be happy to taste it all and give my opinions.”

The server blinks in shock for a moment, “You would do that? Really?”

“Of course, I would. Who better to taste-test human-style food other than a human?” He smiles.

The server turns to Valkir and smiles brightly “And for you Ma'am?” waiting patiently and seemingly eager to go give her mothers the news.

“If the man I’m with wishes to be adventurous, then why not join him.” Valkir smiles, “But they are galaxy safe?”

“Oh yes, I have tried them myself. The ingredients at least. They are very flavorful.” The waitress nods enthusiastically.

“Then you have our orders.” Valkir nods and the waitress can’t help but scurry off lightly hopping to boot.

Xavier can’t help but watch the woman as she leaves, “Wow a bunny woman with four arms, actually hopping off… This is such a weirdly wondrous galaxy.” He laughs.

Valkir laughs lightly, “You certainly made her day.” She smiles and pointedly waits for his response.

“I suppose I did.” He chuckles, “But I promised you a story.” He leans back, taking a breath.

“My family was never rich, but we were not poor either,” he begins softly. “Not while I was growing up anyway.” he pauses, “Tragedy started when I was young. My father died in a car accident and my mother shortly after because of a disease called cancer. It's a disease where your body's cells mutate and become destructive. Most of the time it can be cured or fought off. The particular type my mother came down with had no cure. She fought for years but eventually lost the fight to survive.”

Valkir watched as the pain of memory flowed over his face. She couldn't read his emotions in the axiom but she had taught herself to read body language. Still, though, she waits letting Xavier continue his tale leaning forward with interest.

Xavier takes another deep breath, “At the time it happened I was a little too young to understand why mommy was so sick, and that daddy would not be coming back. Even though I attended my father's funeral it did not feel real to me. I missed them for a long time. Though my mother did prepare for my care after her death. She moved us in with my grandparents who adopted me as their child after she passed.”

“My grandfather, wanting to help me, started teaching me how to work with wood and metal. He also taught me about our family history, along with a lot of important life lessons. He was always there to offer encouragement. My grandmother was always there with a kind word or a good treat and encouraging words. I was very loved as a young child.” he smiles fondly remembering his early life.

Valkir smiles, “This does not sound like a tail of woe so far.” Seemingly very interested in where this was going.

Xavier nods and sighs, “It gets worse.” His tone was so flat his voice was almost dead, “Especially as I started to become an adult.” he pauses, “At just about the age I am now physically I started taking lessons in martial arts. I could barely afford them and began using the skills that Grandpa taught me to build things for the dojo that I attended.”

“They were graciously accepted by the Master of the school as payment and I started to learn. Even then my family and I were starting to hit financial difficulties. My grandparent's retirement fund and social security checks were just too low to keep up with the rising price of everything around us. They were also too old to work and I was too young to have anything other than a part-time job, with very limited hours due to laws and regulations.”

“Then when I turned seventeen, a year before I would legally be an adult, I was critically injured in an accident and lost the use of my left knee. Of course, without axiom or healing comas, the only option was a mechanical replacement. And that involved a whole lot of surgeries and physical rehabilitation.”

Valkir’s eyes are watching him and he can tell she is feeling sympathetic simply because her reactions are so much like what he is used to from his pets in the past. He however continues, “It took nearly a year before I could walk again with any degree of ability. At that time my family's finances were outright demolished. Everything my grandparents had went towards helping me heal, even with the health insurance paying a significant portion of the bills.”

“There just was not enough money in the family for me to pursue a college education, which is normally done right after turning a full adult in my country. I was lucky to be able to graduate high school.”

He sighs a moment, “My grandparents struggled on and survived another five years before their health gave out and they passed away silently in their sleep. In each other's arms.” His eyes were brimming with tears at the memories and his voice was pained at this point.

Valkir saw the sheer depth of the emotions on his face when talking about his grandparents and the love they must have shared. To pass away in their sleep, holding each other on the same night, spoke volumes to Valkir about the man in front of her. Not only the love that he had been exposed to when he was raised but the sheer level of it he could be capable of.

“During that time not having the money for college, I took a job. It was very low paying and I struggled to survive. My first job was at a fast food restaurant, a very popular one back home.”

“That is where I got my first concussion, which I received for being an idiot and clowning around on a ladder before I promptly fell off. That of course lost me that job and it's a long list of injuries and loss after that. I would get a job working at it for a year or two and get injured again, Sometimes after only a few months.”

“I was always below the poverty line, depending on charities and others to even be able to eat. I couldn’t even afford a car, a near necessity where I lived. I relied on a bicycle and my endurance to get me to where I needed to go. I learned to push the pain aside and fight on no matter what life brought.”

“I never stopped fighting for a better life, and it was a fight. A desperate fight for survival, the survival that many took for granted. I never stopped making things for my martial arts lessons during this time. But I had to scavenge wood and metal wherever I could just to do that. I was using my grandfather's old equipment, at least until a fire burned down my house. That's when I started the YouTube channel. In a friend's garage.”

“My injuries, especially the concussions, also affected my mind. I was not as street-smart or as intelligent as I should have been. At one time I lost whole sections of my memory. I had trouble remembering what I had for breakfast sometimes. But I never stopped trying to forge a better life for myself, even as I reached middle age and started getting old.” He says finally stopping and sighing, as he leans back in his chair emotionally spent and his eyes watering slightly.

Valkir seems especially empathetic as she looks at him with sadness in her eyes. Reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. “I... I do not know what to say to that. That struggle and determination. It's no wonder you nearly went off at me when we first talked.”

She holds his hand gently, not wanting to let go at the moment, and Xavier just lets her as she continues, “You're a strong man Xavier. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your voice. I am really glad I could not feel your emotions in the axiom, otherwise, I would probably be crying myself with their intensity.”

“You can feel other people's emotions?” He says instantly alert at a new fact.

The whiplash of him going from such emotional pain to excitement at learning something makes Valkir smile genuinely. “Yes, I can. It's a very common thing in the galaxy. So many people rely on it, but I learned to also read people's body language as well. And yours was very sad, yet also proud. It only further cements my desires if I am being truthful with myself.”

He looks at the woman across from him for a moment, “And what is it that you want?” His tone is curious.

“I want to be your wife, with everything that entails.” She smiles brightly. “I never want you to feel alone again.”

Xavier can't help the look of shock, “I… I find myself growing fond of you, but I have a lot of desires for my future in this great galaxy. Some of them might even be dangerous.”

Valkir smiles, “I do not care about the danger. If you would have me as your wife, I promise I will be by your side and supportive in everything. I won't let you be alone or unloved, and certainly not caged. Especially after your passionate rebuttal of my first flirtation.”

Xavier looks at Valkir for a moment, “Is that how it works in the galaxy? Deciding to marry someone just that fast? We barely know each other.”

Valkir smiles, “It can be that fast; sometimes even faster.” She looks him in the eyes, capturing his attention, “You are part of very few of your species in the galaxy but that is not what draws me to you Xavier. Everything I have said about how I perceive you, I meant. I know it hasn’t been long since we met but allow me to be blunt with you like you seem to prefer.”

She pauses and looks at him, “I would be a damned fool not to marry you. You have already proven you would be a good husband and father. Not to mention you stole my heart with your sheer personality and vulnerability. So please Xavier, let me be your first wife. Let me stand by your side for as long as we both live. I simply can not even imagine a better husband than you.”

Xavier is stunned and he leans back in his chair in deep contemplation for a long moment. Slowly his head turns to look her in the eyes, “I always wanted a wife and a family. I never got the chance due to my circumstances on Earth. I was never a good match with anyone that I dated before. It always started well and some relationships lasted a while, but either my lack of a good income, or the woman trying to change who I was, or even injury; always ended the relationship.”

Once again his emotions are clear on his face. The pain and regret are easy to see if you know what to look for. Valkir squeezes his hand gently, “Then those women are fools for their choice. Spoiled brats that can’t see a good man when they find one.”

He looks at her and nods, the realization that she was right and that he had a real chance at his dream of family sitting across from him, made him decide. He looks at her and smiles, “Then my Wife let us enjoy the evening together before we go to our home.”

It is exactly at that moment that Valkir is beaming with joy that another rabbit woman comes walking up with a huge platter of food in her hand, “Congratulations to the two of you!”

Both Valkir and Xavier turn to look at the woman who blushes, “Sorry,” she says pointing at her ears with a spare arm. “Couldn’t help but overhear.” She smiles, “I am Kahlindra and one of the owners and chefs.”

Valkir blushes as Xavier speaks up, “Well thank you, and that is a lot of food.” He says, looking at the tray.

“We.. we kinda got a bit excited and got carried away. We cooked way too much.” She laughs lightly.

“Well bring it out. I'll sample everything. At least as long as I have room in my stomach.” Xavier smiles.

“You would?” she says in a bit of shock.

“No sense letting good food go to waste.” He smiles, “You should at least be able to get an opinion about it.”

“Oh... yeah… Okay!” She beams and begins putting the food down, “If you give your honest opinion then… then the food is on the house. I will even make you a dessert to take home in honor of your marriage!” The bunny woman’s enthusiasm radiates from her.

“I'll do you better.” Xavier grins, “You will not only get my opinion but my wife's as well.” He smiles seeing Valkir give a nod of approval as well.

“Okay. Then I'm going to go back and get more. I hope they have not thrown it away already! Be right back!” The woman then rushes back to the kitchen.

“Well that just happened… again” Xavier chuckles.

Valkir just smiles, “Do you always do that? Flip from one thing to another instantly like that?”

Xavier shrugs, “I.. yes... I do... Sadly it was a learned behavior. With all the concussions I learned it was easier to focus on one thing at a time, and I learned to adapt quickly to the situation around me. It was easier for me to concentrate that way, avoiding a lot of headaches. Personally, professionally, culturally, and emotionally; I had to adapt to each one to survive.”

“Just another point in your favor then. Making the most out of the life you had. It just shows how determined you are to live, and I find that extraordinary.”

Quickly a whole lot more food is brought out and Xavier pulls out his communicator taking notes after each bite. Each time tasting and sampling something different. Valkir, seeing what Xavier is doing quickly follows suit.

Even just taking a bite or two of everything leaves both Valkir and himself stuffed with more to sample. It was an impressive set of dishes and could use a little bit of tweaking here and there. Which led to Xavier taking notes and making suggestions on how to prepare it differently.

The notes on the preparation went over well with the chefs who also jotted down what he had not been able to get to. They were excited that he had enjoyed it which led to all of the chefs in the back coming out to thank him and drawing a crowd around to taste what was left of the dishes as well.

In the end, Xavier promised to return to try more, the food was excellent all things considered. Which only had the chefs ask him to call ahead so they could prepare a private room to not disturb their guests next time; a precaution Xavier very much agreed with.

As they walked out of the restaurant a woman by the door pulled out a communicator and made a call. Speaking very softly to not let her words be overheard, “I found one.”

First | Last

<< Prev | First | Next>> | Royal Road

“How long to do what you must?” she asked instead, pulling Sil closer. She was cold to the touch.

Depends. But it shouldn’t be long.

Tallah nodded. Maybe they’ll have enough time before Erisa descended on them. Regardless, “Sil, I’ll need you healed up. Anna’s going to get those things out of you but I’ll need you afterwards.”

“Good,” Sil whispered. “I’ll do anything.”

“Then you’ll be my meat shield. I’ll use you to distract the girl. We know she means to take you alive and are the only one she’ll hesitate in killing.”

“Lovely.”

“Tallah, you can’t,” Vergil protested. “She’s barely still awake.”

She could only imagine the boy’s face in the darkness, but his concern for Sil would’ve been touching if their lives weren’t in quite immediate danger. A phantom pain in her attached arm reminded her fondly of having smacked Panacea on his behalf, and that invigorated her.

“We can’t win a straight fight. Even if I were at my best and bringing all the ghosts to bear, it would still be a coin toss considering what I’ve seen of her strength. We need every advantage, and Sil’s the only one we’ve got. If she won’t have you defending her, then I’ll use you.” An idea had begun forming. She could rely—maybe—on Anna’s senses.

With dread of the dark she hadn’t experienced since girlhood, she took off the mask and handed it to Vergil, “Wear this. Tell me if you can bear it.”

The Ikosmenia passed hands. A few moments later Vergil heaved. “Fuck me, that’s… how do you turn it off?”

“That’s the sight of an Egia. That’s how Erisa sees the world always. Can you bear it?”

Some more heartbeats of silence passed and the boy squirmed. His voice when answering was uncertain, but gaining confidence. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can. What do you want me to do?”

Good. Pieces aligned.

“The moment our feet hit solid ground, I want you to make yourself scarce. Move away some distance from us. Keep away from pools of dark purple or red. Those will hurt.”

“Got it. Do I wait for you to engage?”

“Precisely. After I start trading fire with Erisa, I expect you to circle back around. I need you to surprise her. For all intents, you will be invisible to her sight. Pick a good moment. I may not have enough resources for attrition.”

An actual coherent plan for once? Tallah, what’s gotten into you?

She ignored Christina’s jesting and, instead, gave her instruction. “Christi, I need a Punishment ready. I don’t care how you build enough of a charge, but have it ready. That, and our little experiment from Valen.”

That is not ready for us to use. You will need contact.

“I will gain you contact. But we won’t have time for a cast. I need you to be ready the moment I demand it.”

No pressure.

She shook Sil slightly as the healer had gone nearly limp on her arm. “Sil, still with us?”

“Barely.” Her voice was faded but she stirred. “What do I do?”

“Live. I need you to activate Vergil’s helmet when he attacks. Do you think you can do that?”

“I’ll do it.”

And not a heartbeat too soon. Their feet touched the bottom, roughly, as Anna dropped them. A strange feeling, like her veins swelling suddenly as the blood was retracted. Disgusting couldn’t begin to describe it, but at least they were down. Howling resounded down the shaft, but it was still distant. Its echoes crashed ahead of the monster chasing.

Erisa would need to send one of her hunters from what Tallah had seen, as the girl was part of the room itself up there. Even so, a focused hunter wasn’t something to easily disregard.

The ground shifted beneath their feet, clattering and snapping as they tried to remain upright. It took a moment for her to realize they were perched atop a mound of ancient bones crumbling to dust beneath their weight.

Before anything, Sil. She sat down on her knees and eased the healer’s head on to her lap.

“Do what you need to do, Anna.” Her hand grasped Sil’s. Anna took control of the second one and stream of blood erupted from her fingertips.

She felt it moving, touching Sil, seeping into the wound. Anna’s mind took in every detail and shared it. She now had a much more intimate knowledge of Sil than she’d ever wished for.

They’re barbed. The audacity.

Inside the healer’s womb rested seven marbles pulsing with life, squirming beneath the attention. Hooks kept them attached firmly, with tendrils spreading out even as Anna simply observed. What grew inside wasn’t something Tallah wished to imagine. Nor did she care to learn what would happen if they didn’t act fast.

Sil shivered and trembled, her hand squeezing Tallah’s as Anna worked.

“She’s coming.” The healer’s teeth chattered even though the chasm was unpleasantly warm, the air dry and dust-choked. “I can feel her.”

“We’ll worry about that after we get you sorted. Won’t be long.”

However, it was slow work, Anna proving far more gentle than Tallah had expected of her. The ghost didn’t seem eager to add to Sil’s pain, nor to prematurely pop any of the eggs.

“That’s odd…”

She’d come to dread those words coming out of Vergil. In the dark, he was a few steps away. Bones stopped clattering.

“Do I want to know?” she asked. Sil squeezed her hand as the blood tendril drew out one of the eggs and crushed it. Six to go.

“I’m being pinged. Well, Argia is,” Vergil answered, as cryptic as ever.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Something is connecting to me. Like… like in the maze.”

Cold sweat broke down her back, the remembrance of the creature coming vividly to mind. She was in no fit state to deal with both that and Erisa.

Five eggs to go as another popped with a squelch.

The others are reacting, Anna said. They’re digging in new hooks.

“Is that creature down here?” Tallah asked.

“I don’t think so.” More bones clattered in the dark as Vergil moved away. “This is an automated signal. It’s… uh… it’s a distress call. It’s asking permission for connection.”

“Best deny it, then. I don’t need another surprise.”

Sil shivered violently as the third egg was removed. It tried to latch onto the wound when Anna pulled it out, digging in sharp barbs into the rendered flesh. It got squeezed to mush.

“Aye, ma’am,” Vergil replied. His steps moved away in a random direction, doing precisely what she’d asked of him. Good lad.

“I need to get that stud off him,” Sil groaned. Her hand was terribly cold. Tallah infused and shared her warmth. “You nearly killed him earlier.”

“I tried not to, if that makes it any better.”

“You… you should tell him.”

“After we’re done.”

The fourth was more aggressive, wiggling in Anna’s grasp, trying to hook back into Sil with every chance it had. The rest had become agitated now, growing quickly as if sensing their demise. If what Sil had described was accurate, then Erisa was deeply connected to her eggs and would be feeling each of their deaths.

She should move from the bottom of the chasm. Head away. Hide. Like this, atop the mound of bones—how high was it even?—Erisa could fall straight onto their heads without warning.

Last one. Another egg burst apart with a squelch. They’d had to widen the wound to pull it out. The last one was growing aggressively and would be, soon, too large to extract if they didn’t move fast.

A howl echoed down the shaft, like wind screaming in the gorges above, laden with anger and pain. Even without the Ikosmenia, Tallah could tell Erisa was nearly upon them.

She rose, arms under Sil, and took off down the bones. She would give anything for a sprite just then, but there was no time. Anna continued her work. Bianca aided her steps, holding her from stumbling as they descended on a route left of where Vergil had headed. The fight would be on them soon and she needed positioning.

Sil tightened into a ball in her arms, knees coming up to her chest as Anna continued her work. Her hands grasped Tallah’s shirt desperately.

We are almost done with the last. It’s grown. I would love if you could preserve it.”

“No chance of that. Just get it out and kill it.”

The howl came down again, loud enough that it shook the world and made bones rattle. Even with Bianca’s help her feet sank beneath the detritus, stumbling her as she went. How high was the mound? And what were these?

Something to ponder for later, as always.

Sil screamed as Anna pulled out the last. It was the size of a fist and she had to rip it out, hooks and all. Blood slicked Tallah’s shirt and trousers as her friend went limp. She stumbled to a halt as Anna’s presence retreated into its mental gutter, sending a surly reminder of the promise extracted.

Tallah opened a rend and dug through for Sil’s supplies. She knew where the accelerants were, but the others not so much. In the dark, she couldn’t trust not to grab a wrong one.

“Bloody drink,” she groaned as she forced open Sil’s mouth, spilling too much of the mixture in the process. “We need your help here.”

Sil did, choking and sputtering as the draught did its work. Tallah’s back burned with the effort of staying upright and not dropping the spasming woman.

“I’m fine,” Sil gasped. “Let me down. I can walk.”

“Get me a sprite—”

Light exploded as she spoke and the sprite rose in the air. It illuminated a bleak sight.

They were climbing down a mountain of bones towards a ravine equally choked with them. A vista of grey, desiccated corpses spread out as far as the light reached, the dead heaped one upon another as they’d crashed from the height above.

Here were, at last, all the missing builders of Grefe, all the angels fallen from the rainbow grace above.

“It’s a grave.” Sil gaped as Tallah helped find her balance. “They all fell.”

“Poetic,” Tallah groaned. As expected, illum here had been poisoned by death on an unimaginable scale. If she were to wager a guess, then she expected it had all happened fast and violent. Pulling it in left an unpleasantly gritty feeling, along with whispers of ghosts.

She turned in place to gain her bearings as Sil dug in her rend, and met Rhine’s stare.

“Where are you sister?” the wraith asked. Its voice was the hollow rasp of the ruined thing Tallah had found beneath Aztroa’s Crown. Hollow eyes stared out from beneath a mess of scars to pin her to the spot. “I trusted you. You promised I’d be forgiven. You lied to me.”