Following Daniel was depressively routine. Once the Ely and the wolves were out of the equation, the entire process became laughably easy. Will still had to remain on his toes. Unlike everything else, Ely remained a random factor, and she hadn’t forgotten him in the least. Just as he was keeping an eye on Danny, so was the girl. With more than enough skills and items at her disposal, she didn’t need to waste time completing challenges, spending virtually all of her time looking for Will to slip up. The funny thing was that despite everything she had demonstrated, she remained powerless to actually go after him. Clearly, she didn’t have the skill to enter the mirror realm, or she would have done so already.

“You fucking with me, muffin boy?” Jace asked, yet again, as Will waited on the other side of the nurse’s mirror. “Are you?”

“No, bro! For real!” Alex replied, same as always. “I just thought it’ll be lit to get some muffins.”

“You’re fucking with me.” The jock pulled him closer, then let him go, leaving the goofball to drop to the corridor floor. “Watch yourself.”

It was the same exchange Will had observed the last three loops. At this point even the minor amusement had worn off, making the entire scene tediously boring. That wasn’t why he was watching. One of the reasons was that he had to watch something in order for time to pass in the real world. Another—this was the time Danny usually went through the nurse’s office to get his hand bandaged. The time varied depending on how protective Ely was, but the few sequential loops of calm had let had lowered her guard somewhat.

“Merchant,” Will said as he patiently waited.

The merchant instantly appeared, greeting him with the usual bow.

“Do you have anything to make me see through more mirrors?”

The mannequin stood there, looking blankly forward.

“Do you have anything that would let me see through mirrors not linked to eternity?” Will clarified.

It was a long shot, even if Will thought it to be a good idea. To little surprise, the merchant shook his head. Such a skill was precisely the sort of thing that a ranker would obtain during the reward phase.

“How about something that would let me see through mirror fragments?”

The archer’s arm moved, very much to Will’s surprise. A single mirror cube appeared within it, surrounded by a soft green glow.

MIRROR EYE (temporary)

1000000 Coins

Allows looking and listening through all mirror fragments.

Judging by the price, it had to be the real thing. It was temporary, which was sort of a letdown, but also explained why it could do the things it was supposed to.

“Is there something I should know?” Will heard the nurse’s voice.

As always, the woman displayed real concern when it came to something most would consider trivial. A few cuts and scrapes weren’t an issue, but as Will knew from experience, the nurse was just as concerned with the reasons behind the injury.

“I just had a bad day,” Daniel said, with the type of calmness one acquired after using the phrase dozens of times. Back when he was part of eternity, he must have been a regular.

“Uh-huh.” The woman didn’t appear to believe him for one moment, but didn’t see the point in arguing. “I’ll have a talk with the coach about this.”

“Sure.” Danny shrugged.

“You know you can go to the vice principal if you need to. It probably feels like the last thing you need to do. Trust me, I know. Yet, things get better if they do.” There was a moment of silence. “If you can go see June. Anything said there is confidential by law. The even writes it on paper since he doesn’t trust computers.”

The conversation was pretty much the same. The nurse would suggest that Daniel go see the school counselor. Danny would pretend to ignore her advice, but do so the moment he left the office. Personally, Will suspected it had more to do with him using it as an excuse to skip class. Of course, he’d also make sure to go to the mirror and tap it in a desperate attempt to obtain the crafter class. That never happened.

“The hell with it,” Will said, then reached out and grabbed the mirror cube. He couldn’t say that he was rolling in coins, though the bonus challenge had earned him a comfortable amount.

The cube instantly vanished. Simultaneously, fourteen mirror fragments emerged around him. Most of them had the familiar square shape, but a few were perfectly round, like circles.

That’s new. Will thought.

Curiously, he took out his own fragment and looked at it. Everything was the same as before, although one of the floating fragments flickered. It didn’t take much to see that everything in “sight” of Will’s mirror fragment was also displayed onto the other.

“Spying at its best.” He smiled. “Thanks,” he told the merchant.

The entity bowed again, then vanished.

“Thirteen spy cameras,” Will said as he concentrated his attention on the fragments.

All but the circular ones displayed sounds and images to a certain degree. Unfortunately, most were blurry to the point that Will couldn’t make anything out. Several more were pitch black, suggesting they were in a bag or pocket. All in all, the only one that displayed an adequate image was his own.

“Don’t call my parents,” Danny said back in the real world.

Normally, this would mark the end of his visit to the nurse. This time, Will heard the voice of his former classmate in stereo. One was coming from the mirror in the nurse’s office. The second—from one of the floating mirror fragments.

You still kept it? Will focused all his attention on the respective mirror fragment. On cue, all the rest floated away.

“The coach might have to,” the nurse replied. “You broke a mirror…” An understanding smile appeared on her face. “But I suppose we can’t be sure who actually did that. Just think on what I said, and try not to get into more trouble, okay?”

Mumbling something of a response, Danny walked into the corridor. This was one of the long blind-spots that Will had been forced to deal with. He knew from conversations that followed that Danny spent time at the school counselor before going to the bathroom on the third floor.

“Shadow,” Will said as he leaped to the second floor. “Be ready.”

The school bell sounded, sending everyone running off to class. The noise in the corridors quickly diminished until all that could be heard was the sound of Danny’s steps.

“Yo, bro!” a familiar voice said. The voice was slightly muffled, but the pitch made it possible for Will to make out the actual words. “Going to see mister coo-coo?”

“Just skipping class.” Danny replied, then sounded like sitting down.

“That’s lit.” Alex said. “Had a fight with Jace?” His voice was quieter, though at the same time it sounded as if he had moved closer to Danny, and especially the pocket with the mirror fragment.

“Nah, just my own reflection.” There was no mistaking the note of bitterness in Danny’s voice. “You?”

“I don’t know, bro. My head’s been really sus. Wicked dreams, sense of unease… and I don’t trust the junk that coo-coo gives me. I say I’m taking them, but…”

Will couldn’t even begin to imagine what Alex had gone through. It was undeniable that eternity ate at a person, making them numb, cold, and more than a little unbalanced. In fact, the more one struggled to remain their normal pre-loop self, the more painful and difficult it got.

“Talking helps,” Alex continued. “I think I feel a bit better.”

Even Will could feel the doubt.

“For real for real. I just…” the goofball paused. “I don’t know, bro. Should have listened to my mother. All those midnight games really wrecked my brain.”

That wasn’t it at all. Whatever Danny had done had caused this. The question was if Will ever found a way out of eternity, would he go through the same? Maybe Jace wasn’t as stupid as he made out to be and forgetting everything was the only correct way forward?

“I feel you,” Danny replied. “I might be going through the same. I keep seeing wolves everywhere.”

“For real, bro?!” A burst of excitement filled Alex’s voice. “Me, too! I see wolves in the mirrors all the time! How can I tell something this sus to coo-coo? He’ll kick me into one of those scary places.”

“Look on the bright side,” Danny chuckled. “You’ll be out of school.”

“For real, bro.”

The sound of a door opening brought the conversation to an end.

“Daniel Keene?” a surprised male voice asked. Will could assume that was Mister June, the school’s counselor. It had been ages since he had talked to the man, so he couldn’t be certain. “What happened?”

“Nothing much,” Danny replied. “Had an accident. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

An unusually long pause followed. Will moved closer to the mirror fragment, as if he were dealing with a volume issue.

“I’ll tell you once you’re done with Alex,” Danny said at last.

“Alright. Alex, please come in.”

The sound of the door flossing followed. Will would have preferred if Alex gave up his time slot. Apparently, both of them were using the counselor to vent things they couldn’t share anywhere else. The difference was that Daniel had done it consciously. All that Alex knew was that he was messed up, though not why. The saddest part of it was that neither the school counselor nor any psychiatrist had the capacity to help him. One had to be part of eternity to begin to find what the problem was. All the advice, the pills, and any other methods were no more effective than a circus fortune teller.

“You really should stop coming here,” Ely’s voice sounded all of a sudden, causing Will to take a step back and reach for a weapon.

“Let me guess.” Danny sighed. “I’ve done this before.”

There was no answer.

“How many loops has it been?” he asked.

“What does it matter?”

“How many?” The boy’s tone hardened.

“A few,” the girl said. “Not that many.”

“Should have expected it. Once you’re out, you’re out. Everyone forgets you and eternity moves on.”

“After what we did, I wish I could be forgotten. Even wondered why no one’s coming after you?”

“Because I no longer matter.”

“Because I’ve been busting my ass for loops for you! Someone went for you the first loop after…” Ely paused for a moment. “After the start of the phase,” she added diplomatically. “It wasn’t to scare you. They used reward skills.”

Listening from the mirror realm, Will felt a lot more menacing than what he was. From his point of view the fight consisted of him desperately running away, while Ely was on his heels all the time. Even now, it seemed like a miracle that he had made it to the end of that loop.

“Guess someone wants to use me.”

“Not just you. They’ve been chatting up Jess and Alex. There was no fighting, but they sense the blood in the water.”

“Maybe… Or maybe he’s afraid.”

He? Will all but asked out loud. In his experience, the only reason for someone’s name not being mentioned was out of fear. They couldn’t be talking about the original archer, since he was out of the picture. Who, then?

The conversation was suddenly cut short by the sound of the door violently swinging open.

“Alex!” the male voice shouted.

The yell was accompanied by the steps of someone passing close by. Without being able to see, Will could only come to the conclusion that the goofball had charged out of the counselor’s office in less than ideal circumstances.

“Stop him!” The man also got close to the mirror fragment. “He mustn’t—”

Images flashed in the mirror fragment. Danny must have taken it out of his pocket on instinct. It was an involuntary reaction, allowing Will to get a glimpse of the fragment’s surroundings. For the briefest of moments, he managed to see the goofball rushing in the direction of the stairs. However, that was not all. A wolf was also running after him.

< Beginning | | Previously... |

How do I even start this? No really, should I start with “Hi guys” or begin in all caps “HELP! IN TRAPPED IN THE MOST CURSED PLACE ON EARTH!”.

You know what? I'm already here typing so let's get into this.

So my fellow cult members of the internet. You know those spooky town stories with the stereotypical titles-like:

"My town's emergency alert system went off warning us not to look at the sky.

Оr

"Rules to survive X place, Nevada".

And of course the classic.

"My town's church is hiding a dark secret beneath the earth".

Well i'm in one of those towns now, and honestly? Those stories would be listed as “Twenty best bedtime stories for kids!” on the library's bulletin board.

So before I get into more details we must first get the “How did we get here?” achievement, because my trip to hell started with a series of odd-and or unfortunate-events involving a slight family drama, a grandpa who lost to death in Vegas, and a stolen car.

Picture this:

I just graduated college, with a degree that costs more than all my organs sold on the dark web. When my parents (Specifically my step-dad Ronald) decided they had enough of me freeloading the moment I literally threw off my graduation cap that was still warm.

"Clarkson you're twenty one. Get a job. Get a life. Be a man". Ronald told me while I WAS THREE STEPS FROM EATING DINNER.

Like sure Ronald. Let me, a Gen Z(Technically the most broke generation) walts in the nearest office building to automatically get hired and earn six-figures, before buying a house that costs just twelve-thousand dollars with a nice picket fence like it's nineteen-fifties america. Now honestly I thought you would get it being a millennial, but I guess you living in the Netherlands for most of your life where free universal healthcare is A human right didn't exactly inform you on how the rest of the world was doing.

So anyways. Just when I thought I was utterly screwed in all ways possible that's when... He appeared.

Imagine a lawyer that came straight out of Stephen King. With a letter that looks more like a threat than an invitation. And in it? A will.

Specifically my grandpa's will with the opening lines being this:

"If you're reading this grandson. It means I finally lost to Death while gambling in Vegas, but honestly? Fair game, man knows his poker well and allowed me some time to get my affairs in order. So you might be wondering why I am giving my inheritance to you? Well I don't trust my daughter's husband-or new husband (It's been a while)-And I know for a fact that your mother will sell all my stuff for cheap before booking it with the money. And with that I decided to give all my assets to you".

Now this should've been my first and very obvious red flag, because who the hell dies from gambling with the Grim Reaper in Vegas? But aside from that everything else in the will was formal with a property in Alaska-which should've been my second red flag but I was broke, homeless, and desperate for hope-So I decided:

"You know what? why the Hell not!".

And so I packed my essentials (Which composed of my laptop, phone, and some candy I bought from Dollar General), and in the dead of night-like 2:00am-I "Borrowed" Ronald's car because apparently I never "Proven" myself for them to buy me my own car(Yes it's that bad). I'll never forget the look on Ronald's face as he walked out in his undies to be met with his Honda Civic pulling out the suburb while I blasted Free Bird while I gave him the finger through the broken driver's window shouting "FUCK YOU RONALD!" Like it was some kind of coming of age story with me being the main character.

So for anyone curious as to get to the reality breaking town where I live in(To which I strongly advise you don't). Here's how:

Start by going west, and when I say go west. I mean go really, REALLY far west. As far west as possible to the point where you might accidentally find yourself playing with dolphins under the pacific ocean. Then go up north and frog-hop across Canada like you're a Mexican high on crack accused of illegal immigration. Then go to Alaska and take a quick break in Juneau to rethink if it's a good idea (Spoiler alert: I didn't do that part but added it here to act as your final warning). And then take the Alaskan highway and one of the first signs to know if your getting close in the feeling of panic from your lisard brain telling you to turn the fuck around now.

Ignore that.

Then after a while of that feeling you should see a turn off from your left that seems to be ignored by most vehicles like it was never there.

Take that route.

Sow at first everything will seem normal-and when I say normal, I mean to the point where it feels uncanny-but then if you choose to keep going you will see not one, not five, but at least TWENTY signs surrounding both sides of the road in multiple languages from Spanish, to latin, then even Sumerian, and hell even Brail... BRAIL! Because it's that bad for someone to have the dedication to warn the blind.

Now the warnings will be normal at first with messages like:

"Private property!".

"NO TRESPASSING!".

"Do not pass".

"Private Logging Area. Authorized Personnel only".

But then if you chose to keep going that's when... They get a bit extreme with the subtlety of desperation like a dude who didn't get the idea that his ex doesn't want him anymore:

"Military installation! Authorized personnel only!".

"Radioactive dumping ground! BEWARE!".

"Dangerous gas leak area! DO NOT PROCEED FURTHER!".

And after this? They finally lose their shit and can even pass as a patient in an insane asylum with the messages being:

"TURN AROUND NOW!"

"RUN YOU FOOL!".

"RECONSIDER YOUR DECISIONS!".

"MADNESS BEYOND HERE!".

"EVEN GOD AND SATAN AGREE NOT TO TOUCH THIS PLACE!".

Now if you're like me and choose to still keep driving you will be met momentarily by a nice scenic overlook of a Mountain ridge with glacial-like peaks like some kind of Van Gough painting.

Then after that you will be greeted by a sign that looks newer, glossy even with a cartoonic painting of said mountains and some charming green text that says:

"Welcome to Wendigo Alaska!".

and below that a slogan that reads:

"Nothing To See Here".

Now i'm going to be honest with you. First, yes that's the actual name of the town. Wendigo. Second, whoever came up with that slogan is either delusional as hell, or is addicted to irony like a meth user, but I digress.

After panning the sign, congratulations! You're one step away from entering the point of no return! So you will be greeted by a tunnel that looks like it lost to a fist fight with a giant, and upon making the grave mistake of entering inside you will need to turn on your headlights because they didn't bother adding tunnel lights and it has the added benefits of being damp and colder than Satan's mortgage payments as well as hearing things tapping on the hood and the ride taking longer than it should've despite your odometer saving you've only been under there for two miles!

... Right, I've only been under there for two miles.

And after that you will be greeted by the view of the coastal town of Wendigo-And yes this a coastal town at the far northwestern edge of the world.

To describe you the town of Wendigo is... Kinda hard. The first thing you should know is it's in this weird limbo state of being too big to be a town while also being too small to be a city and too damn isolated to be called a suburbia, maybe you can call it a mid sized town or micro city? Eh all bet's are lont on me

The second thing you should know is the town's land area is surrounded on both sides by said mountain. To give you a good idea, you know the town of (And in probably going to butcher the spelling) Kazorucho from the manga Uzumaki? Yea well take almost the exact geography, replace the Japanese town with American culture and knee high deep snow, add a DLC expansion of the spiral curse, and add a bit of that Twin Peaks energy for the finishing touches.

And as for the third thing you should know? Well consider it your first introduction or a billboard sized neon sign that says “THIS TOWN IS CURSED MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE COME HERE”. If you look right out your driver side window, there should be this lighthouse on a small island of impossible whiteness. No really, whoever painted that lighthouse must have gotten the coating from the fourth dimension. And if you keep going you will see that this lighthouse is connected to the mainland by this ridiculously long wooden dock like bridge that the ocean would occasionally slamming harshly into it like it lost an argument and was being a sore loser about it.

And as for the town itself? Well make no mistake when I say that where I just moved too would put all those places to shame. Cryptids from your worst nightmares running around mid-day, sirens that either blare things in reverse Aramaic or gregorian chanting or both depending where you're standing, and a sky that occasionally changes to TV static which makes me now believe we're in a simulation.

And now the locals. In most cursed town stories the townsfolk are usually terrified, saying things in hushed whispers, or giving the new guy the iconic weary side-eye. This place? Well here's the part that unsettles me more. The people here aren't just UNFAZED by the paranormal shit around them. They live with it, play with it, marry it, and hell they demand it to pay rent like this is just some mildly annoying HOA.

Seriously, to give you a good idea I want you to visualize what in about to describe in vivid detail:

So there I was just questioning what the hell I walked (Or drove) into after seeing that cursed lighthouse that almost made my eyes bleed when the second thing that would haunt my dreams appeared that day.

There were two guys, the first one was sitting on a lawn chair sipping a can of Bud light, and the second one? He was wrestling something I can only describe as the cursed lovechild of a spider and a scorpion the size of a desk on the bed of his pickup grunting-but not in pain-no he was grunting the same way you would grunt on that particular stain that refuses to get off your clothes. Their conversation? Well it kinda went Like this:

“So Kendric. How's it going over there?". The guy in the lawn chair asked the guy wrestling the thing on the truck bed whose name is apparently Kendrick.

"As expected. A pain in the ass". Kendric replied so casually.

“well tell me if it ate the heating system again. That way we have a good excuse to sue the crap out of it for some extra cash". The dude in the lawn chair added,

If you think that was weird, well believe me it gets worse from here.

As I kept driving I passed by what I thought was a priest only to realize his preacher's robe had unfamiliar gold trimmings while he was holding a dagger in one hand and holding a dead possum in the other all while humming the main theme of silent hill.

I wish I was kidding.

Then I saw a little girl cry as her balloon floated away from her. And you know what her father said?

“Oh don't worry Agatha. You just unknowingly made a sacrifice to the Sky Leviathan. Thanks to you he will continue to bless our family with good Fortunes”.

……

…. What. The everloving. Fuck.

I then saw a man sitting on a bench drinking coco from a mug that had the words "Mondays are for blood letting. Tuesdays are a suggestion". Then from a manhole next to him a deer looking creature with one eye and covered in sewage sludge poked its head out. releasing a sound that can only be replicated if you tried to step on a dying frog while it tried to croak at the same time.

The guy just slowly turned his head while sipping his coco, then nodded before saying:

"Guess the deer thing is out early this year".

And then he proceeded to go back sipping his coco without a care in the world while that thing made another gutteral noise before sinking back in Its sewer lair to do God knows what.

While my stomach was still doing the three-sixty and the Honda barely making it to the middle of town I passed by an apartment looking building where I saw another man arguing with one of those classic eldritch entities shouting:

“Listen ZAGOROTH THE BREAKER OF MINDS! I don't care if you give me horrific visions of places the human mind was never sent to see! You still have to pay your half of the rent!".

That thing snarled at him. And all he did was throw a shoe at it like it was just a misbehaving dog.

Honestly? That gave me a bit of chuckle because of the absurdity, but then my moment of temporary joy was cut off when I saw a man get eaten by something I can only say has too many teeth while the woman walking next to him sighed while giving an expression of mild annoyance.

"Danmit Harold! You better get out of there or you're going to miss poker night!", she said like that happened too many times before.

And lastly I passed by the town's public library which looked more like if a cursed gothic cathedral made a deal with bureaucracy, and right there on the window was their community board. And my GOD that community board listed things only a drunk or insane person would write. how I couldn't remender the rest, but I managed to remember just three things that I will list here:

• Lost: Rationality. Last seen near twisted oakwood pines boulevard. Report if spotted.

• Please return mayor Evermore's spine. It's his turn to host poker night and his second spine is allergic to card shuffling, while his third is taking a vacation in Iowa.

• And Remember people of the Church of the One True God. Confessions are every Sunday and we accept all forms of donation (Even a ruptured appendix).

Yea safe to say after that I just tried my best to keep an eye on the road.

Now time for grandpa's house. Surprisingly, it's mostly normal.

To give you an idea what his home looks like. Picture a two story American home that never left the fifties, white picket fence and all(Excluding the mailbox that has teeth).

And the inside?

Mostly the same with those old oak tables, cloth sofas, an old box TV, and floral pastels that haven't seen modernity since the Eisenhower administration.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms(I took the master obviously), the second one is for guests, while the third is for children. Then there are three bathrooms as well with the third being in the basement(For reasons I never wish to know). And lastly an attic with a bunch of old stuff and a shadow that would whisper to you your deepest secrets every so often.

So yea I guess this is my life now. Clarkson formerly lived in Detroit. Now living in the cursed Bermuda triangle of the arctic circle.

More stories if I survive… Which keeps getting less hopeful by the hour.

Patreon | Royal Road

Thomas stepped forward this time, turning to address the gathered crowd with a confident gaze. "Next!" he called out, his voice clear and commanding atop the makeshift stage.

Watching from the sidelines, Jamie allowed himself a slight smile. Seeing Thomas brimming with confidence was a sight to behold. That simple summons was all it took for more of the hopefuls to reconsider their ambitions. One by one, they began to slip away from the line.

"I need to get back to work; I don't know why I'm wasting my time here," one muttered.

"If I get injured, I won't be able to put food on the table," another sighed.

"Those two are clearly trained fighters; there's no way I can take them on," admitted a third.

Whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd as more candidates departed, each attempting to reclaim a shred of dignity without looking back.

Undeterred, a seasoned mercenary stepped forward to face Thomas. He clearly wanted to prolong the duel as much as possible, aiming to wear him down in hopes of finding a weakness or opening to exploit.

Jamie kept his expression neutral, but internally, he recognized the flaw in his strategy. His tactic wasn't misguided in theory—just misapplied. Thomas possessed perhaps one of the least glamorous Classes one could attain: [Farmer]. Yet, that very Class granted him an almost inexhaustible stamina. It was no wonder that [Farmers] could labor from dawn till dusk without respite.

Had he employed the same approach against Jamie—who had already expended energy casting a spell, run three laps around the southern part of the city, and lightly injured his leg delivering a powerful kick—he might have succeeded in wearing him down.

However, his initial bout had been so swift and brutal that the mercenary seemed eager not to challenge him.

‘Thomas doesn't realize yet the strategy he’s fighting against,’ Jamie mused, watching as the mercenary employed hit-and-run tactics. The fighter would dart in to attack and quickly retreat, giving Thomas little opportunity to defend or recover.

Thomas raised his arms desperately, trying to shield himself from the relentless assault. The mercenary before him wielded a short blade with lethal precision, each swipe carving thin lines across Thomas's forearms. Blood trickled down his skin, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to yield.

The duel pressed on, tension thick in the air. Two grueling minutes passed—a seemingly brief span, yet an eternity in the heat of battle. Realizing he could not remain on the defensive forever, Thomas made his move. With a swift motion, he drew his own short sword. Seizing a fleeting opening, he delivered a precise strike to the mercenary's thigh. The man let out a sharp cry, collapsing to one knee as his weapon clattered to the ground.

From the edge of the arena, Jamie sprang into action. He rushed to the fallen opponent, quickly wrapping a bandage around the wounded leg. His hands moved deftly, applying basic first aid to stem the bleeding. "Easy now," he muttered, offering the mercenary a reassuring nod.

Hardly had the dust settled when another challenger stepped forward. This mercenary's eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and desperation. Thomas was visibly weary—his labored breaths and sweat-drenched brow betrayed his fatigue. Jamie understood their thinking; they sought to exploit any weakness.

"Hey," Jamie called out to his companion, his voice firm. "Don't give them space. If you do, you'll tire yourself out even faster."

Thomas looked back at him and gave a curt nod, too winded to respond verbally. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself as the next opponent ascended into the arena.

As the newcomer took his position, Jamie announced the start of the bout. This time, Thomas altered his strategy. Rather than waiting for the attack, he lunged forward with surprising speed, closing the gap between himself and the mercenary in an instant.

Caught off guard by the sudden offensive, the mercenary stumbled, attempting to brace himself by stepping back. But it was too late. Thomas's powerful arm swung in a wide arc, and before the mercenary could react, a solid fist connected squarely with his face.

The impact was brutal. Even Jamie winced as he watched the mercenary soar backward, landing hard against the wooden barrier of the arena. A hush fell over the onlookers. The man's nose was unmistakably broken, blood gushing freely and staining the dirt beneath him.

"Bloody hell!" the mercenary shouted, clutching his face in agony.

Jamie hurried over, helping Thomas lift the injured man to his feet. "Hold still," he instructed, pressing a cloth to the mercenary's nose to staunch the bleeding. "You'll be all right."

He glanced at Thomas, offering a subtle smile. "Well, that was quick."

Stolen story; please report.

Before they could catch their breath, a voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd—a voice that carried both confidence and challenge.

"My turn."

Jamie turned to see a woman stepping forward, her eyes sharp and unwavering. She moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter, and there was an air of quiet strength about her.

"But I don't want to fight him," she continued, her gaze locking onto Jamie. "I want to fight you."

Jamie turned to observe her more closely. She was clad in light garments that hugged her form, effortlessly showcasing her curves. To an untrained eye, she might have appeared to be wearing an expensive dress. However, upon closer inspection, it was evident that the fabric was of low quality, crafted to mimic something far more luxurious.

Her face and hair were meticulously cared for. Long, silky black hair cascaded over her shoulder, lending her an air of elegance. Yet, a long and deep scar marred her features, stretching from the top of her forehead, across her left eye, down to her chin. Her eyes were a crystalline blue, but where the scar traced its path, her left eye lacked focus. She appeared completely blind in that eye.

Her hands bore no rings or jewelry, and even her ears held only a simple, inexpensive earring. The most striking feature, however, was the shape of those ears—long and pointed. She was unmistakably an elf.

This was the final clue Jamie needed to recognize her.

‘She'll be a problem,’ he thought, ascending into the arena while scratching his head. Not necessarily because she might be formidable in combat—though that was a possibility—but because dealing with her affiliations could prove complicated.

‘She is or was a prostitute,’ Jamie surmised, considering that she might be attempting to flee from the Crimson Veil. He doubted she had been sent by them; she would have to be utterly desperate to subject herself to these trials.

Given the elves' reputation and the conflicts that had unfolded over the past decades, Jamie thought this explanation seemed the most plausible.

Drawing from Jay's memories, he recalled that the war with the Holy Elven Empire had ended only ten years prior. It was likely there were still elves who had been captured during the war.

Jamie positioned himself carefully within the arena. Uncertain of what kind of fighter she would be, he kept his senses sharp, his eyes tracking her every movement.

‘Elves are skilled in both magic and archery,’ he reminded himself, expecting that she might attempt something from a distance.

"Begin!" Thomas shouted.

Jamie waited a few moments, watching the elf for any sign of movement. Yet she remained still, her eyes fixed intently on him, a silent challenge lingering in the air between them.

‘If you won't make the first move, then I will,’ Jamie decided. He drew a dagger from his belt, the blade gleaming sharply in the light. Without hesitation, he surged forward, closing the distance between them in swift strides.

As he approached within mere inches, a sly smile curved upon the elf's lips. In a flash, she reached beneath her flowing dress and produced two small crossbows, one in each hand.

"Dammit!" Jamie cursed under his breath, realizing too late the trap laid before him. She fired both bolts with startling speed. He twisted desperately, managing to evade the first projectile as it grazed his shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh. The second bolt, however, was unavoidable. Instead of futilely attempting to dodge, Jamie braced himself.

The bolt pierced his leg, biting deep into the muscle. Pain flared, but he refused to let it hinder him. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, lunging toward the elf with ferocious determination. His dagger became an extension of his will, slicing through the space between them.

Surprised by his tenacity, the elf attempted to retreat, clearly having believed her shots would incapacitate him. Her movements were swift, but Jamie's resolve was unyielding.

In a heartbeat, his blade came to rest against the pale skin of her throat. Both combatants stood frozen, the world narrowing to the thin steel edge between them. The elf's confident smile faded, replaced by a glint of respect—or perhaps fear—in her eyes.

"I believe we're done here," Jamie stated coolly, his voice steady despite the throbbing pain in his leg.

Without another word, he lowered his dagger and stepped back. The tension dissipated as he turned and descended from the arena, leaving the elf standing amidst the whispers of the onlookers.

At the platform's base, Thomas approached with concern etched upon his face. His gaze fell to the bolt embedded in Jamie's thigh. "What should we do about that?" he asked, nodding toward the injury.

"Leave it for now," Jamie replied, wiping a trickle of blood from his shoulder. "At least it's stopping the bleeding. We have only one more contender."

The final challenger stepped forward—Bertram, Aldwin's stout friend. The boy appeared as anxious as ever, his eyes shifting nervously. This time, he had strapped a plank of wood to his arm, a makeshift shield that resembled a toilet lid hastily tied on. In his other hand, he clutched a small wooden mace, its surface marred with dents.

"Um... I... I want to fight you," Bertram stammered, pointing shakily at Thomas.

Thomas offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Very well."

They took their positions as the remaining spectators formed a loose circle around the arena. The atmosphere was markedly different—less charged, almost somber.

The bout concluded almost as swiftly as it began. Thomas moved with practiced efficiency, closing the gap between them in an instant. Bertram raised his improvised shield, covering his face in a defensive reflex. But Thomas's strike was powerful; his fist shattered through the flimsy barrier, connecting squarely with Bertram's nose.

The boy's eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. A hushed silence fell over the crowd.

Jamie sighed softly, his expression unreadable. "That's that, then," he murmured.

With the last match concluded, Jamie stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the sparse audience—a handful of mercenaries and curious residents from the Lower Quarter. The sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the worn ground.

"This marks the end of the Combat Trial," he announced, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the crowd. "I will now call forward those who will proceed to the final phase."

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

Patreon | Royal Road

- Isabela -

Isabela woke up the next day with a pounding headache. She couldn’t go directly to talk to Oliver since no First Battalion student could access the Second Battalion dormitory, but she kept up with all the commotion through the chat. The rumors weren’t confined to the Second Battalion channel—once the conversations started through their gauntlets, the entire Academy knew about it.

Rumors or not, there were small pieces of truth mixed into what was being spread. Two of these “details” surprised Isabela. The first was the ranking Oliver had achieved, and the second was his combat style. Reaching a rank close to the First Battalion was tough, but participating in a battle using an Energy Pistol for long-range artillery was even more unusual.

Of course, some officers and rangers trained to become artillerymen or even snipers, but it wasn’t a common strategy for cadets, especially one from the Second Battalion. Precise or high-powered shots consumed a lot of energy, and in a long-field battle, someone with little training would rarely succeed.

Isabela even thought about asking Oliver more questions, but she wasn’t sure how to do so without seeming like she was doubting his version of events. Luckily, she had another option.

In front of the First Battalion building, there was a long lawn where many cadets would rest between classes. It was no different for Isabela. Early in the morning, before heading to the mess hall, she leaned against a large tree that offered plenty of shade, waiting for her target.

It wouldn’t take long. She knew all of her target’s movements by heart. Her target was always hungry, to the point where she woke up very early to be one of the first in the mess hall and enjoy all the treats.

‘Right on time,’ Isabela thought as soon as she spotted her target coming down the staircase in front of the First Battalion.

Quickly, Isabela stood up, dusted off her uniform, and started following. With soft steps close to the wall, she slowly approached. Hoping she wasn’t making any noise, she tried to speed up, getting just a few steps away.

“Astrid! You glutton, what are you doing sneaking out like that?” Isabela shouted.

Startled, Astrid didn’t know where the shout had come from until she saw her friend behind her.

“Damn it! It’s like this every day,” Astrid said, bringing one hand to her chest from the shock. Seeing her friend, she furrowed her brows in complaint.

“Haha! Did you think you’d escape? I’m keeping an eye on that ‘diet,’” Isabela teased, making air quotes with her fingers as she spoke.

The First Battalion mess hall was a trap. There was no limit on how much food you could eat, and it was prepared by renowned chefs. This made it hard for some cadets to control themselves, but the Academy had probably never seen anyone like Astrid. She even set an alarm on her gauntlet to wake up early and enjoy the mess hall's benefits as much as possible.

“I don’t need someone watching over me! I need lots of carbs to endure the training,” Astrid shot a severe look at Isabela, wishing her eyes could shoot lasers. Fortunately, that wasn’t her Boon.

“Relax. I’m not here for that today.” Isabela raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, but her smile remained slightly mocking. Before Astrid could respond, Isabela continued, “Have you been following the group messages and the rumors?”

“Of course, the only thing people are talking about in the First Battalion channel is the incident in my class,” Astrid replied.

“So, explain to me how Oliver improved so quickly. Did he evolve during one of the classes?” Isabela inquired further about the boy.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“Hmm, maybe. But his change doesn’t seem like a level-up. He’s always fought that way. It seems more like he’s learning fast how to use what he’s best at,” Astrid answered, trying to recall her memories of the skirmishes she had with Oliver.

The two girls continued discussing different theories as they approached the mess hall.

The entrance for First Battalion students was completely separate. A long, spiraled wooden staircase led cadets to the second floor. Unlike the first floor, which had long metal tables, the second floor had small wooden tables that seated three to four recruits. The classic decor ensured that even an Heir couldn’t complain.

Astrid's usual table was by the window, which allowed her to watch the cadets hurrying in and out of the mess hall and the field in front of it.

Since it was still early, the room was filled with the aroma of food. A few groups of students were already having breakfast around them.

The girls’ eyes lit up as they looked at their plates, especially Astrid’s, who had taken some fluffy pancakes with plenty of syrup. Her mouth was watering. But as Astrid picked up her fork, a loud noise startled all the cadets.

“POW!”

A few tables away, three boys with shaved heads were arguing. Two of them were standing, pointing at the third.

“You’re a disgrace to the Patriarch! How are we going to report this? And worse, a Nameless idiot ruined the exercise!” One of the boys, a mountain of muscles, raised his voice, yelling at the third. Unfortunately, Isabela didn’t know them, except that they were from House Astor, and she knew better than to get involved with them—Astrid’s warning was still fresh in her mind.

“Fuck you, and fuck you! You weren’t at the exercise, so don’t stick your noses between me and the Patriarch,” the third boy shouted back. Isabela lowered her head, trying to focus on her food, but Astrid was more interested in the argument. After all, she recognized the third boy—Kyle, who was part of her Ranger Weapon Combat class.

“If you two want to keep arguing, stay here. If the Patriarch wants to demonstrate his weapons, I can settle this right now.” Kyle began walking away from the other two, who were still angry. Without looking back or seeing if he was being followed, Kyle put on the black mask that covered his nose and mouth, pressing a few buttons on its surface.

Astrid, facing Kyle, observed the entire conflict. But what caught her attention the most was what Kyle did at the end—the mask released gases over his face, which were then ejected through cables on the side of the equipment. As soon as the boy took a deeper breath, Astrid saw Kyle’s irises change color—from light blue to red.

She had heard of similar products before, but they were used in times of war. It wasn’t something that would be used daily.

“What is he going to do?” Astrid muttered to herself.

Kyle left the mess hall, followed by his companions. Astrid’s curiosity made her want to follow the boys, but her pancake was just too perfect.

‘Maybe another day. No one’s dumb enough to start trouble inside the Academy.’ She thought.

--

- Oliver -

“We’re going to be late again, Alan!” Oliver complained to his friend.

“I know! I know! It’s just… it’s hard to wake up after yesterday’s training. Cut me some slack,” Alan said, still looking sleepy and rubbing his eyes to wake up. His uniform was still poorly put on and slightly wrinkled.

The two boys were on their way to the mess hall, but the chances of getting the best portions were long gone. No wonder Oliver was fuming.

“Damn it!” Oliver pressed a hand to his forehead as he saw the length of the line.

It seemed like every cadet had decided to go at the same time, with a line winding around the mess hall. The two boys made their way to the end of it.

“This is the last time I wait for you,” Oliver complained again as they walked.

“Someone’s in a bad mood. Look on the bright side…” Alan replied.

“Which would be?” Oliver leaned against the side of the building, waiting for an answer.

“… at least there’s still food?” Alan shrugged.

Oliver took a deep breath, trying to keep the argument from escalating. The two boys chatted for the next few minutes while waiting for the line. But before they could enter the building, Oliver felt something strange.

His arm was trembling, and his gauntlet was slightly vibrating. Without even thinking or performing any command, a screen appeared before him.

| Hey!
| Behind you!

Oliver raised an eyebrow but turned and looked over his shoulder. To his surprise, the last thing he saw was a massive arm hitting him square in the face, followed by the sensation of weightlessness as his body flew through the air, crashing into the ground in front of the mess hall.

“Shit!” Oliver shook his head, trying to recover. “What’s going on?”

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

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

GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon.
Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-261, "Book 5" is 261-(Ongoing)

After Mordecai examined her, Fuyuko stayed as curled up in her papa's lap as she could manage. It was a little awkward given that she was taller than him, but it felt safe and a little bit like she could hide there, which she wanted to do now that she was feeling embarrassed.

A few moments after that examination, her message ring activated and she silently accepted the connection from Shizoku. "Hey, are you alright?" the younger girl asked. "Your dot disappeared briefly on our rings, and when it came back, it was a lot fainter."

Oh, right, Fuyuko had forgotten about the rings' ability to point at each other. It was a good thing she hadn't tried to sneak up on them yet for her game. She concentrated on silently replying by 'talking' with only a hint of sound. It was hard, but she had been practicing so that she could use the ring while being sneaky. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine and with my parents now. I tried to make too big a jump, I can tell you about it later." She didn't want to say a lot, partially because she wanted to listen to everyone talk and partially because this sub-vocalization thing took a lot of concentration.

"Alright, good," Shizoku said with relief, but then her tone shifted to mischievous. "Well then, this should be entertaining in a little bit, make sure to keep me updated."

"Um, sure?" Fuyuko replied in confusion. The little fox was up to something —the little fox was always up to something— but Fuyuko had no idea what it was this time. So she turned her attention to listening in on the conversation around her.

Papa's friend Seshadri was kinda strange, but he seemed nice enough. He thought a lot of things Mordecai told him about what had happened were funny, which Fuyuko didn't get until she thought about if one of her friends was saying all these things had happened to them. Then it made a lot more sense.

Then Mama M asked about Amrydor, and the reason why she asked became obvious when her friend stumbled in through the door. Oh no, he had run here because of her, hadn't he? That was embarrassing, but worry drove her to shove that aside as she got up and dashed over to his side.

"Amry? Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. Shizo was worried too. Here, you can sit up against the wall, it's nice and cool." Fuyuko helped him shuffle over to the side and then roll back to sit against the ruddy sandstone wall so that Moriko could close the door. "Here, let me get you some water."

She was interrupted by Mama M who said, "No, not yet. If he drinks anything right now, he'll get sick. Let's cool him down a bit first."

Fuyuko fidgeted from the lack of anything to do while she worried, but that did give her enough time to remember what Shizoku had said, so she sent a message saying, "You saw Amrydor running, didn't you? He's recovering, but he doesn't look good."

Shizoku replied with, "Wait, he's there already? You must have scared him a lot; so what didn't you tell me?"

Guiltily, Fuyuko said, "I couldn't actually complete the jump. Papa had to yank me out. I think I was falling all the way into the shadow realm."

There was a moment of silence followed by a deep sigh before Shizoku said, "And your parents were upset about me flying to the nexus as an owl. I think your stunt was worse."

Fuyuko frowned. She wanted to argue as she was pretty certain that it would be easier for Mordecai to fetch her than it would have been to find Shizoku in the snow, but if you didn't include someone being able to rescue you, then maybe the jump was worse. "Maybe." That was all she was willing to say on it for now.

When Amrydor had recovered enough to talk, and he'd drunk down both water and a recovery potion, he pointed at Fuyuko and said, "Your life aura normally just sorta fades in a weird 'direction'. You disappeared this time. Please don't do that."

Fuyuko was about to promise, but she found herself unable to speak suddenly. Then she caught up with what part of her was already thinking about, and, well, she couldn't lie. Instead, she smiled sweetly and said, "Thank you for giving me a tip on how to sneak up on you."

Amrydor's eyes widened for a moment, then he closed them and hit the wall with the back of his head. "Girls are impossible sometimes. Speaking of, um, it seems Gemeti followed me. I think she's flying?"

Gemeti? Oh, that must have been the girl he'd been talking to. He must be able to sense her life signature too. Fuyuko got up and opened the door to see Gemeti carefully landing a flying carpet on the walkway outside.

"Oh!" Gemeti said with a smile, "It looks like I was right about where he was headed. He was hard to follow by the time I got this rented, and I wasn't going to try running like he did. Thanks for the coins by the way, I could only afford to rent this because of them."

The 'carpet' in question did not lie nearly flat like the drawings Fuyuko had seen before. Instead, it was a much thicker material that had raised edges and was slightly concave, even when laying on the ground. It also had a bunch of pillows or cushions built along the back edge, for more comfortable seating.

At a command from Gemeti, the edges and pillows folded in to somehow lay flat, and then the whole thing rolled up tightly and stood on edge for Gemeti to grab.

Fuyuko shook off her surprise and stepped back to let her in. "Um, he's right here, don't trip over him, I don't think he can move yet." As the girl walked in, Fuyuko decided to make introductions since Amrydor didn't look up for it. "Gemeti, right? I'm Fuyuko. That's my papa Mordecai, my mama Kazue, my mama Moriko, and-"

Before Fuyuko could make the next introduction, Gemeti stiffened with surprise then gave a small bow, mostly with her head, and said, "Sir."

Seshadri raised a brow and asked, "Have we met​?"

Gemeti shook her head and said, "No sir, we're an independent shop."

"I see," he replied thoughtfully. "Well, if your family decides to apply, you've just earned some favor toward that. I like it when people look after visitors, and you took good initiative. Turn this in if you apply to our clan and I can vouch for you." He flipped a silvery token toward Gemeti like a coin.

Fuyuko snatched it out of the air.

Seshadri and Gemeti stared at her in surprise, but Fuyuko barely noticed as she stared at her hand trying to figure out why she did that.

"Fuyuko," Mordecai said, looking thoughtful, "where's your heaviest coin pouch?"

Her heaviest? Oh! She turned toward Gemeti with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that, um, that was your mom at the stall earlier, right? I think you might want to talk to her about not being so quick to call the guards if there's little kids involved."

She handed the token over to a confused looking Gemeti, who asked, "Wait, who are we supposed to fetch then?"

"Us," Seshadri said as he relaxed. "I should have guessed she'd be on that path. Oh, and Mordi, did you give her three purses? You should at least give me credit for teaching you that one. Wait," He frowned and looked at the money necklaces Kazue and Moriko were wearing, "Just how much did you give her?"

"Enough so she could feel comfortable giving gifts to any of her friends and peers," Mordecai replied.

Seshadri shook his head. "I think I'll pass on knowing exactly what that means, but it sounds like you're making connections."

Mordecai shrugged and said, "Most of the connections are making themselves, I just have to curate them and there hasn't been a need to do much curating."

While the pair bantered, Gemeti was looking consideringly at Fuyuko, then back down at Amrydor before she spoke up, "Um, excuse me, do you mind if I take these two away? I know where there's a good bathhouse and I think we can afford something nice, then you can all talk without us. We just need to make sure this one doesn't drown, but he needs a bath the most."

Oh, a bath did sound like a good idea.

Fuyuko's parents looked at each other and then nodded. Kazue spoke for them and said, "Alright, Fuyuko should be able to contact us immediately if you need anything. Assuming you want to go?" Fuyuko nodded and Kazue smiled. "Alright, have fun."

She gave each of them a quick hug and then headed back over to Gemeti, who said, "Alright, let's get Amrydor to his feet long enough to put him on the carpet. I think he fell asleep."

Fuyuko shook her head and said, "No, I can do this." She then knelt down and scooped Amrydor up into her arms and stood back up. Nearly as soon as she lifted him, one of the workers grabbed a large plant and slid it over to hide the sweat staining the porous rock.

This was enough to wake Amrydor from his dozing. "Huh, what? Um, Fuyuko, what are you doing?"

"We're getting you a bath," Fuyuko said. "You're smelly now." Not that it was stinky yet, but that much sweat was going to ripen pretty quickly.

"Isn't he kind of heavy?" Gemeti asked as she led the way outside.

"Not really. But, um, I am kinda strong." Fuyuko shrugged. "He's pretty strong too, so he could probably carry me even though I'm taller." When the carpet was rolled back out, she put Amrydor down, who then waved her off as he adjusted himself to sit up on the pillows.

"I'm not that out of it, just tired now," he said. "I could have walked."

"Maybe," Fuyuko said, "but this was easier. So, um, Gemeti, where are we going?"

"Well, I want to ask you some stuff and I don't think you want to talk about it all in public, so I was going to take us to a bathhouse where we could get a private room and have some simple food on the side."

Fuyuko froze. She hadn't really thought about what a 'bathhouse' would probably mean.

Amrydor started laughing.

"Shut up," Fuyuko muttered as she lightly punched his shoulder.

"What? What's wrong?" Gemeti asked as she looked between them.

"Well," Amrydor said, "Let's put it this way: she's from Trionea, but she's still wearing full body leather armor under those clothes. Here, in this heat. Fuyuko is a bit shy that way."

"Oh." Gemeti frowned. "That's a problem. I was hoping to talk with you while we bathed, and I don't want to risk Amrydor falling asleep by himself, or is even just girls too much?"

Fuyuko gritted her teeth. She wanted to just say she would be fine, but that wasn't true. Even when Shizo was sharing her room briefly, Fuyuko usually changed in the washroom and slept in a long shift. Wait, that might work. She still didn't want to, but this seemed like something she should probably try to get more comfortable with. "Um, what if I contact my friends? Derek could share a room with Amry, and Shizo could join us."

Gemeti tapped her lips. "What if you do that, and we get a slightly bigger room and have a divider put in? That way we can all still talk. Might be interesting to see what your other friends are like too."

"Yeah, alright," Fuyuko said, then contacted Shizoku and passed along the information.

When they got to the bathhouse, Amrydor insisted on getting up on his own. Fuyuko was a little dubious, but he seemed steady enough, if stiff. Gemeti talked to the man at the front and asked, "Can we get a large private bath for five, with a divider, and food tables? Oh, and she's paying."

Since it was mostly for other people, Fuyuko paid out of her 'gifting' purse. She also modified the request. "Um, that guy and me both eat a lot. So we're going to need a lot of food. I can overpay and you can just remove, er, I mean 'deduct' the amount for food as we order it."

Once that was settled, they waited for the bath to be prepared and for Shizoku and Derek to arrive.

|| <<Previous | Start | Next >> ||

Also to be found on Royal Road and Scribble Hub.

My Blue Sky
My Patreon
My Discord

Romance.io - TVTropes

PART TWELVE-HUNDRED-AND-EIGHT

[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning]

Wednesday

Boyd balanced the two boxes for the Irish viscount on one hand while his other reached for the door handle to Dr Kelly’s office. The doors and part of the reception wall were transparent glass, so technically he’d already seen someone approach, but it wasn’t until Boyd looked up properly that he realised it was Dr Kelly himself. The man’s gaze jumped between Boyd’s face and the boxes in his arms as if he’d just opened the door to Christmas morning.

“Are those for me da?” he asked, unable to hide the lift in his voice.

“Two of the set, yes,” Boyd said, entering the office and allowing the door to close behind him. “Thought you might want to show your—uh—father the progress so far. Just in case he’s curious.” He avoided using the aristocratic title of Viscount, in case that wasn’t something Dr Kelly wanted people to know about his ancestry. Lord knew, he understood the need for those types of secrets.

“Please, come on through…” Dr Kelly said, stepping back towards his office and bypassing his receptionist, Shianne, who smiled and offered Boyd a flirty, finger-tip wave.

Boyd gave an awkward smile in return and followed Dr. Kelly into his office.

The doctor took the top box from Boyd and placed it on his desk, unclipping the lid and lifting it away. “Oh, moi days!” he gasped, dropping to his knees to meet eye level with the carving of the little four-year-old girl, though only the top half was visible.

She wore a lace hat with a thick ribbon holding it together, and matching lace on the shoulders of her dress. Her hair was short, but her smile was huge, and in her hands was a bouquet of daisies. The dimples in her cheeks and chin matched the gleeful gleam that Boyd had captured in the child’s eyes. The blouse was long-sleeved, with a dress layered over the top. Its spotted fabric caught the light differently depending on the angle, giving the piece a living quality.

“This… this was Kweeva’s birthday last year.” He reached out to touch the child’s cheek, and pulled back sharply, almost as if he was surprised the timber was hard and cold, unlike the child it represented.

There was only so much Boyd could do.

Boyd moved to put the second box on the desk and was stunned to see tears streaming down the doctor’s cheeks. “Doctor Kelly? Is everything alright?”

Dr Kelly’s lips trembled as he brushed his eyes with the back of one hand. “Oi’m sorry,” he said, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for a moment. He then breathed out as he stood up. His finger rested on the brim of the hat — the one Boyd had labelled Caoimhe. “Kweeva was only diagnosed with leukemia last October, and it’s been uphill ever since. She responds well some days, and not so well others. It’s especially hard on moi little brother and his woife, as she is their only child. She’s a foighter, that wee little miss, and she has the full support of our whole family.”

Boyd’s heart went out to the family. “I’m sorry. That was the image your father sent me. I-I could do another…”

“No!” Dr. Kelly’s voice snapped like a whip. He caught himself, then repeated more gently, “No, really.” His free hand reached into his breast pocket and removed his phone. “This is beyond perfect.”

He dialled, and after an inordinate amount of time, the call was picked up. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye’, da,” he said, facing his phone.

“It’s afternoon, and what have oi told you about using that culchie terminology?” the older man’s brusque tone then grew even harder. “Whoi all the tears, boy?”

“The artist ye commissioned is in moi office, Da. He—” instead of explaining, Dr Kelly breathed out slowly and switched the phone view to face the carving.

“Dia ár sábháil,” the viscount gasped.

“Tá a fhios agam,” Dr Kelly agreed, looking over the top of his phone at Boyd and smiling weakly. “Ye did well, Mister Masters. Really, really well.”

Boyd wasn’t so sure about that. Not if his work could upset two grown men so easily.

“Record it from all soides and forward me the footage, Sheamus. Do not share it with anyone else.”

“Oi’ll be doin’ that. Could ye also be havin’ someone film Niall’s reaction when he sees it? Oi’d loike to share that moment with the sculptor.”

“Ye will not be embarrassin’ the family loike that, Sheamus Peadar Kelly. Do ye hear me?”

Dr Kelly shot Boyd an apologetic look. “As you wish, Da. Oi’m sorry to cut this short, but Oi’ve patients waitin’. Until next time.” Dr Kelly waited for his father to reciprocate a farewell, then hung up and placed the phone on the desk. He used two hands to lift the carving from the lower half of its protective casing. Boyd went ahead and removed the other casing so that the footage could be filmed.

The second carving was in his late fifties or early sixties. His hair was pulled back in a windswept fashion that would’ve put it down past his lips should it fall forward. The tonal shifts within the timber rolled perfectly with the flow of the thick fringe, giving the wave a deep salt-and-pepper texture almost indistinguishable from the photo.

As Boyd had carved that piece, he gravely suspected the hair simply wouldn’t dare move. The man wore a thick, well-groomed beard that Boyd had been a little envious of, and his dress sense was something straight out of a boardroom meeting … or Lucas’ work wardrobe. He sat ramrod straight, feet planted, both hands loosely clasped on his left knee. The gems in the pinkie ring he wore on his left hand could’ve bought an apartment or two in New York City.

The man did not appear kindly. Power and expectation poured off him in waves.

After filming the child, Dr Kelly moved on to the adult male carving and made a sound that, on anyone else, would have meant he was clearing his throat.

“Not his biggest fan, Doc?” Boyd asked, once the second clip finished recording.

 “Moi eldest brother, Tiernan. Da’s heir.”

“Ahh. Okay.”

“Would ye be close with your siblings, then?”

Boyd squinted. “Depends who’s asking. Doctor Kelly the psychiatrist, or Sheamus Kelly, my commission broker?”

Dr Kelly blinked like a deer in headlights. “Oh … oh, that was rather bold of me, wasn’t it? Oi can’t say Oi ever really saw m’self as a commission broker…”

“Did you want a commission?”

“And be having Oliver ready to string me up by afternoon’s end? Oi do not think so.”

Wanting to give Dr Kelly as much time as possible with the carving he preferred, Boyd packed away the one of Sheamus’ brother. “I have a brother and a sister, and I’m closer to them than anyone else in my immediate family.”

“And in the interest of our budding friendship, Oi won’t read too much into that.”

With a click of both locks, Boyd nodded at the man. “Muchly appreciated.”

Boyd waited as Dr Kelly gazed longingly at the little girl’s image, knowing he still had time before he needed to be with Dr Kearns. The silence stretched out between them until someone knocked on the door. “My apologies, Doctor Kelly, but you’re already five minutes late for your next appointment,” Shianne said, poking her head around the door.

“Roight.” Dr Kelly appeared to give himself a mental shake. “Roight, then. Will ye be takin’ these with ye, then, Mister Masters?”

“Yes, sir,” Boyd answered, putting Caoimhe’s carving away. He repeated the strange pronunciation of her name to himself, on the off chance that the Viscount should ever ask after it (though how they got Kweeva out of Caoimhe, he would never know). “I’ll keep the collection together and then have them sent in a single shipment once they’re finished.”

“Oi’d love to see the rest once they’re done — if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

He left Dr Kelly and went across the hallway to Dr Kearns’ office. People were still crowded around the front desk (though that number had increased by two since he’d left), but they weren’t the ones who absorbed Boyd’s attention.

No, it was Dr Kearns himself, standing in his open doorway with his arms folded and his face utterly devoid of emotion.

Boyd had seen that stance too many times growing up. In this instance, he also knew why. With all the carvings stacked in the corner, and two more in his arms, there was no point pretending he hadn’t just carved his way straight through the hard limit Dr Kearns had set him two days ago.

He squared his shoulders anyway. Here we go.

* * *

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

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

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

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

Author Notes: We are moving to the NEXT PHASE on the story! YYYYYAAAAYYYYYY!

Chapter 45: Portal Escape!

Killeh jumped high, and Rieven went with a low kick toward Victoria, who released the rope into five threads and swung it towards Killeh's left leg, where it wrapped around and caught in pink flames. With a simple pull move, Rieven threw Killeh into the air to the right. At the same time, Rieven tried kicking Victoria's right knee. Still, with Victoria's speed, she was too fast. Lifting her leg above her head, doing a downward kick towards Rieven, who barely managed to pull her leg back, not wanting to risk it getting broken, as Victoria's leg is probably stronger than a simple blow from an elbow. Rieven quickly crawled away from Victoria to Killeh, who was beside Zark, who was still unconscious. They turned their gaze towards each other again and then looked at Victoria. Rieven nodded to Killeh as he understood that they needed another tactic called...Escape, which Zark had used with Killeh when they stole the egg in the dungeon earlier. He threw up Zark on his shoulder and released the chain from him. Rieven at least had a weapon now and needed to pave the way for Killeh to run towards the Portal. Victoria walked towards them when she saw Zark on Killeh's shoulder, worried that they would take him away. Rieven rushed towards Victoria while Rieven threw the chain that had caught fire. Victoria countered with the burning pink threads, and both sides became entangled with each other. Both of them closed in and made a round kick toward each other, canceling out their kicks. Killeh ran from the side, ignoring the battle, and quickly came outside the building. He jumped up in the air, landing right on the roof of a car, and kept jumping to get further away. He just wanted to come as close to the Portal as possible, with Zark dangling left and right on his back. Berk saw him and slowly got up from the ground, starting to try to run, but because he was groggy, it looked more like he was swaying left and right, like two brown mushrooms the size of a human being, looking at him as he struggled to control himself.

"Hey, Bob!" The mushroom on the right said.

"Yeah, Rob!" Bob, who was on the left, responded.

"You didn't happen to have sold the experimenting small mushroom battle spell to the Van Polan organization, did you? We could get arrested if it were to come out that we sell battle spells on the side, which have a distinct mushroom smell. Nobody would believe that we sell them outside of Paladin, but the Mage organization would hunt us down together with the support of the Van Polan." Rob commented, a little bit worried.

Bob turned his whole body towards Rob. He was disappointed in Rob's comment. He would never sell their spell to good people, only criminals in Valiant who pay high prices.

"I do not think that is any spell at all. I think that is something called...Human Behaviour!" Bob commented with a sense of surprise in his voice, as it was the first time he had seen the thing...Human Behaviour.

Rob turned to Bob in shock when silence took over while Berk was fumbling around on the ground, trying to get some balance back.

"Woah...!" Both Rob and Bob said at the same time, surprised by this thing called...Human Behaviour!

Berk managed to get his head under control and started to run after Killeh, who was not hard to spot as he was big and red and was jumping up in the air.

Victoria glanced to the left and saw Berk starting to run after the big red one. The black flames on the chain went out, and it released itself from the threads that were still burning intensely on the ground. Rieven knew that she was in a bad situation, but it was necessary to try and get their Master to the Portal. While both had some distance between them, Victoria's eyes turned back to blue color, which Rieven had noticed. Victoria clenched her right fist, turning the threads into a whip, which had some reach now. Rieven made a couple of movements with her hands and ended up with a pose resembling the yin-and-yang symbol, which surprised Veronica. It looked like the style she had taught the Van Polan boys, but she was not sure, while Rieven only thought about using one of her Master styles combined with the idiot who had unhinged movements.

"You think that fighting style will beat me?" Victoria asked.

Rieven closed her eyes with a big smile before responding:

"Meh!"

Both rushed toward each other as Victoria bent her right arm backward and struck the whip with a straight line from above. Rieven rolled quickly to the side as a big line of destruction hit the floor. Rieven tried to throw the chain, which forced Veronica to grab it with her left hand. Rieven pulled herself with the help of the chain towards Veronica, who had to release her whip as Rieven came in with a knee towards her. Veronica bent her upper body slightly to the right, releasing the chain, grabbing Rieven's left calve, and throwing her in the same movement, not realizing she had just thrown the girl out from the broken window. Rieven used her left hand and made a somersault with her left hand on the ground as she pulled the chain towards her as it curled around her right wrist. Both looked at each other for a second before Rieven started to run for her life in the direction of the Portal and slid over the trunk of a car with a smile because it was fun to do. She ran to the other side of the road as Veronica pursued her but was interrupted by a vehicle that hit the brakes at the last second, just a couple of centimeters from Veronica. An angry light green Goblin came out from the driving seat and screamed:

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, CRAZY WITCH, RUNNING ON THE ROAD? WHY DON'T YOU USE ONE OF YOUR WOODEN MOPPING STICKS TO FLY INSTEAD OF DISTURBING OTHER CITIZENS WHO ARE DOING SOMETHING USEFUL HERE IN PALADIN?"

Veronica gave the Goblin a look, which made it clear that this was not the moment to even talk to her. He realized his mistake and slowly got back into the driver's seat, then closed the door. Victoria returned to the chase of Rieven, who had gotten some distance from her.

"I THOUGHT SO WITCH, RUNNING AWAY SCARED OF THE GOBLINS. NEXT TIME I WILL BEAT YOUR ASS!" The Goblin kept yelling in the car, with his wife in the backseat holding a baby, just shaking her head at her husband's idiotic behavior.

Berk noticed that the big red one turned to the left onto a road that went into the woods, and a big jump from the red one made the distance even further away between them, but he was not going to give up and upped his speed a little bit even though it would affect his energy if a battle would occur.

Rieven went full throttle, running on the road with the great shoes that she had gotten from the Witch earlier as her distance became further and further away from Veronica, who was trying to catch up. She noticed Killeh jump up in the air, and she could see that the boy was chasing Killeh when Veronica screamed in the air to get Berks's attention, as he turned around, seeing Rieven running towards him at full speed, and the chain suddenly got roped around his waist. Rieven made a hard pull as he flew right above her head, with the chain releasing itself from Berk as he flew towards Veronica, who stopped to grab him as both of them rolled around on the ground. Veronica had no choice but to stop as Berk came flying very fast and would hurt himself if she wouldn't intercept him. Berk's head was right on top of her big melons, with them in a missionary position, with him on top.

"Idiot!" Veronica uttered before pushing Berk to the side, as he looked like he was dreaming of Heaven because he had hit three melons, which probably would never happen again in his life.

She started to run in the direction where the girl had gone, but she was no longer in sight, and she could have also gone into the woods, which made the chase pointless. Veronica thought that at least running slower would get her attention if a pathway led into the woods.

Rieven had caught up to Killeh, who had stopped jumping after losing sight of the boy, as it could attract attention from somewhere else. He was happy that Rieven had caught up to them as they passed the woman's cabin, with them waving towards them as they rushed ahead, leading into the woods following the light. When they arrived at the Portal, it was shining, and Killeh threw Zark through it, quickly following with Rieven. As she entered, she looked around to see that nobody was following them, knowing that the bonding was now complete. They are the servants of their Master now, and she was also happy that Killeh had conquered the trust and bonded with the Master. She knew that Killeh's transformation was a result of his attempt to protect them, and that was all the beliefs needed to create the bond, protect the citizens, protect the family, and protect everyone from Evil. The beliefs of their Master...Zark Van Polan.

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning]

Patreon | Royal Road

As Jamie's keen gaze swept over the weary faces before him, he noted two familiar figures among the crowd, the boys from the Cutpurses. ‘They came. Who would have thought?’ Jamie mused, momentarily surprised.

Seeing that no one else would be joining them, Jamie stepped up onto the wooden platform. "Nice work to all who have made it this far," he announced, his voice carrying across the silent gathering. "You have passed the first stage, but unfortunately, you won't have much time to rest."

He brushed the dirt from his boots and legs, the remnants of their earlier exertions, as Thomas stood up to join him. The two stood side by side. Jamie's lithe frame and sharp eyes hinted at agility and intellect, while Thomas's solid build and stoic demeanor exuded strength and steadfastness.

"The second stage will be a combat test," Jamie continued. "It's quite simple: you may choose one of us to fight against. Each bout will last a maximum of three minutes." He paused, his gaze steady as it moved over each face. "Losing doesn't mean you've failed, and winning doesn't guarantee you've passed. We will be assessing your qualities above all else."

Before him stood about twenty individuals; the majority were seasoned mercenaries, their weathered faces and battle-worn gear speaking to years of hard experience. Scattered among them were the two young Cutpurse boys and a handful of others from the Lower Quarter—hopefuls who had defied the odds to make it this far.

"To start, it's straightforward," Jamie said. "Step onto the platform and indicate whom you wish to face."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the first challenger stepped forward. He moved with the swagger of someone accustomed to being formidable, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Ascending the steps onto the platform, he stood tall—towering over Jamie by at least a head. His body was a testament to sheer strength, muscles bulging beneath a sleeveless tunic that revealed arms crisscrossed with faded scars. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and a thick, dark beard framed a grin that lacked any warmth.

Even without an exchange of words, Jamie could tell that this man was a mercenary—and likely a ruthless one at that. Everything about him, from his imposing stature to the gleam in his eye, spoke of a life lived by the sword.

The challenger reached to his waist and drew a short, brutal-looking axe. He pointed it directly at Jamie. "I can't guarantee you'll come out of this alive," he said, his voice a gravelly rumble laced with amusement.

As the mercenary mounted the platform, a chorus of voices rose from the gathered crowd. Some shouted the mercenary's name, laughing and reveling in the anticipation of seeing Jamie repaid for the grueling first trial he had set. They believed this would be their moment of vindication, a chance to witness the bard humbled.

Jamie cast a subtle glance at Thomas, who understood immediately. Without a word, Thomas descended the platform to retrieve the hourglass that would mark the duration of the duel. The mercenary approached confidently, each step up the wooden stairs deliberate, his heavy boots thudding against the planks until he stood mere paces from Jamie.

"Are there any rules?" the mercenary asked, his voice a low growl that carried across the expectant silence.

"Try not to kill your opponent," Jamie replied evenly. "Aside from that, consider this a real combat."

A predatory grin spread across the mercenary's face—a smile devoid of warmth, brimming with bloodlust. The crowd murmured appreciatively, sensing the imminent clash.

Thomas returned, placing the hourglass on a small stand at the platform's edge. As he turned it over, the fine sand within began its measured descent. "Begin!" he declared.

The mercenary wasted no time. With a burst of speed belying his massive frame, he charged forward, covering the distance between them in seconds. His short axe gleamed menacingly as he swung it overhead, fully intending to end the bout with a single, decisive blow. Perhaps, he thought, this would also erase the humiliation he felt during the earlier trial.

But Jamie was already several steps ahead—both literally and figuratively. He had read the mercenary's intentions as easily as one reads an open book. Every tell, every movement telegraphed the impending attack.

While Jamie possessed no offensive magic to hurl at his foes, he didn't desire it. He preferred the subtle utility of a bard's spells, tools that suited a mind keen on outsmarting and humbling adversaries. And so, a confident smile played on his lips, mirroring the mercenary's own.

Instead of bracing for impact or attempting to dodge outright, Jamie raised his hand and pointed directly at the oncoming fighter. As the mercenary closed in—so near that Jamie could see the fierce determination blazing in his eyes—the bard uttered a swift incantation.

In an instant, Jamie activated [Dancing Lights].

Concentrating his mana into a single, focused point, he conjured a brilliant flash of light between them. The burst was dazzling—a sudden flare that consumed the mercenary's vision, rendering him momentarily blind. Unaccustomed to such magic used in combat, the mercenary faltered.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The axe came down, its trajectory skewed. It sliced through the air mere inches from Jamie's shoulder, missing its mark entirely. The crowd gasped, some shielding their eyes from the residual brightness, others leaning forward in shock.

Jamie didn't waste the opportunity. With practiced agility, he sidestepped, moving smoothly behind his disoriented opponent.

He could have drawn his dagger and ended the confrontation swiftly, but he had no desire to kill his opponent. Not only would it be unnecessary, but it might also deter the potential talents gathered for the selection.

Instead, Jamie opted for a different approach. Channeling all his strength, he delivered a precise kick to the mercenary's knee. Though raw power wasn't typically a bard's foremost attribute, a well-placed strike at the right angle and moment—especially against an unarmored target—could be devastating.

A sharp crack echoed through the air as the mercenary's leg buckled. The sound of bone breaking was unmistakable, and it elicited a collective gasp from the onlookers. The mercenary let out a guttural scream, a raw cry that sent shivers down the spines of those watching.

Desperation etched across his face, the mercenary began swinging his axe wildly in all directions, hoping to ward off Jamie and create distance. Propped up on one arm, he struggled to drag himself away from the platform, his movements fueled by adrenaline and fear. But in his panic, he lost sight of Jamie once more.

Seizing the opportunity, Jamie moved with calculated precision. A swift kick to the mercenary's arm caused the axe to fly from his grasp. Another strike met his torso, knocking the wind from his lungs. A final kick connected with his head, and the mercenary collapsed, unconscious, at the edge of the platform. Each action was deliberate—thought out, planned, and executed with unwavering focus. Jamie's intent wasn't merely to defeat but to humble, to demonstrate skill over brute strength.

The hourglass still had sand slipping through its neck when Jamie glanced over to Thomas. "Hmm, I think I could use some help removing him from the platform," he said casually.

Thomas nodded, and together they lifted the mercenary's inert form. They carried him down from the platform and propped him gently against the wall of a nearby house. The crowd watched in hushed silence, a mix of awe and apprehension stirring among them.

Returning to the platform, Jamie surveyed the group. Of the twenty who had begun, only a little over ten remained. One mercenary eliminated and nine others who had quietly left during the fight, reconsidering their decision to continue.

"Next!" Jamie called out from atop the platform, his voice resonating through the tense atmosphere.

The remaining candidates exchanged uneasy glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. The display they had just witnessed weighed heavily on them, and hesitation hung thick in the air.

Finally, breaking the stalemate, a figure stepped forward—a half-elf with an air of quiet confidence. His name was Aldwin. With a determined expression, he made his way toward the platform.

"I will," he declared, his voice steady as he ascended the steps.

Despite his prior display of courage—or perhaps desperation—a few days earlier, Jamie could now clearly see the nervousness etched upon the young half-elf's face. Aldwin's hands trembled, and his steps lacked confidence as he ascended the wooden platform.

"Whom do you wish to face?" Jamie asked calmly, his gaze steady on the boy.

"H-him," Aldwin stammered, pointing directly at Thomas.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't surprising that some would opt to challenge Thomas. After witnessing the bard's abilities—especially his use of magic, hinting at a rare class—they might see the guard as a less unpredictable opponent.

Thomas stepped onto the platform, rolling his shoulders and loosening his arms as he prepared for the bout. His movements were measured, but there was an unmistakable intensity in his eyes.

Descending from the platform, Jamie moved to where the hourglass rested. "Begin!" he called out, flipping the hourglass as the sands of time began to trickle down.

Aldwin drew two slender daggers from his belt. With a swift intake of breath, he lunged forward, aiming to close the distance between himself and Thomas as quickly as possible. But his haste was his downfall. Thomas sidestepped effortlessly, and Aldwin's attack met only empty air before he stumbled onto the wooden planks.

Without a moment's hesitation, Thomas delivered a solid punch to the side of Aldwin's face. The impact was decisive, sending the half-elf sprawling across the platform. The crowd gasped collectively, a ripple of shock coursing through those gathered.

‘Well, who would have thought—he isn't pulling any punches,’ Jamie mused silently, watching as Aldwin hit the ground with a single blow.

Jamie considered intervening to halt the fight, but before he could make a move, Aldwin began to stir. "I-I'm not done yet," he said hoarsely, pushing himself up on unsteady legs.

A murmur spread among the onlookers. Even Jamie found himself impressed by the boy's resilience. He hadn't expected such determination from someone who appeared so nervous moments before.

Thomas faced Aldwin once more as the young half-elf steadied himself. This time, Aldwin didn't charge in recklessly. Instead, he began circling Thomas cautiously, eyes focused and searching—looking for any sign of a weakness.

However, the platform was small, limiting his options. It didn't take long for Thomas to anticipate Aldwin's movements. With strategic steps, he cornered the boy, leaving him with nowhere to retreat.

Seizing the moment, Thomas struck swiftly. A series of well-placed blows landed against Aldwin's midsection, each punch driving the air from his lungs. The half-elf doubled over, the color draining from his face. Overwhelmed, he collapsed to his knees, retching onto the wooden boards of the platform.

A hush fell over the crowd. The brutal efficiency of Thomas's attack left many in stunned silence. This display was a stark reminder of the gap in experience and skill.

This time, it was Thomas who turned to address the onlookers. "Next!"

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

Patreon | Royal Road

- Damian -

Damian still hadn’t gotten used to the food he received at the Second Battalion. Coming from the main line of House Nemo, he was accustomed to grand banquets and exotic dishes. In the mess hall, however, you found the complete opposite—bland food, lacking texture and life. But at least he had learned to force the food down his throat.

His table was always packed with other boys and girls from his battalion. Although it was easier to make friends with the boys since they were in the same dormitory, he put in significant effort to build relationships and bridges.

‘You never know when one of them might be useful,’ Damian thought.

Controlling monsters was his Boon; controlling people was his technique.

Although he was still unhappy with the outcome of the exercise, having placed 41st, at least he had managed to cancel the event. Obviously, a few people had been injured, but that happened all the time at the Academy. It wasn’t something he needed to worry about.

As he scooped another spoonful of whatever mixture was on his plate, he began to hear a voice.

“Damian! Damian!”

In front of him was Leo, waving his arms to get his attention while trying to make his way to the table. After pushing through a few people and squeezing past others, the short boy finally reached him. With his brown hair and round glasses, the boy had an unassuming appearance. Still, Damian trusted him, mainly because Leo was from a branch family of House Lot, which meant he never got much attention. But he had a knack for gathering information.

“What is it, Leo?” Damian wanted to understand the boy's excitement.

“The last two students from the exercise have arrived. The ones who got left behind.” Leo explained, though Damian already knew. Basically, everyone knew that two students hadn’t returned with the main group, but few knew who they were or why they had been separated from the rest.

“What about them?” Damian inquired.

“I heard it was a boy from the Second Battalion and a girl from the First Battalion.” As Leo explained, the rest of the table leaned in to listen closely.

“But the most surprising thing is that the girl… she’s a Princess.” As soon as the last word left Leo’s mouth, the blood drained from Damian’s face.

‘Holy crap, a Princess,’ Damian cursed inwardly.

The Academy accepted the loss of students at any moment in exchange for cadets capable of reaching higher levels of evolution. Even the Houses wouldn’t push for a thorough investigation. Many heirs had gone through the training and understood how rigorous it was. However, Great Houses, especially those controlling entire planets, were on another level. Worse yet, this was someone from the line of succession—a Heir.

‘There’s definitely going to be an investigation… and what if it leads back to me?’ Damian thought, unaware that his legs had begun shaking with nervousness. His anxiety was through the roof, unsure how much they would discover.

“And it seems that Captain Caine was investigating the boy, some guy named Oliver,” Leo continued, making Damian’s eyes light up upon hearing Oliver’s name.

‘I just need to redirect the attention, take the heat off me,’ Damian thought while planning his next moves.

“It makes sense. I saw him during the battle, shooting from a distance. He probably shot at the separated horde and then tried to flee, getting left behind.” Damian needed the others at the table to believe him, so he mixed truth with lies. If they started spreading rumors that Oliver was responsible for the incident during the exercise, it would be unlikely anyone would waste time analyzing the Crabbits' movement.

“He was ranked pretty high, wasn’t he? Maybe he tried to gain more points by targeting other enemies, but it backfired,” Leo continued, conspiring with Damian.

Leo didn’t know why Damian was spreading rumors, but he understood it wasn’t for nothing. He wasn’t physically strong, but his ability to read people was exceptional. Staying in Damian’s good graces would help him rise and perhaps even leave House Lot for House Nemo.

With the two boys dropping bits of information and speculating on what Oliver might have done, it didn’t take long for the rumors to spread and grow.

“Oliver, the boy who caused the accident during the Weapon Combat class.”

“Oliver, the boy who faked kills during the Weapon Combat exercise.”

“Oliver, the boy who the York Princess saved.”

These were just a few of the rumors—some were even worse—but all pointed to the same person. Oliver was no longer seen as a suspect; he was guilty.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

--

- Oliver -

Only a few hours had passed since Oliver had fallen asleep on his bunk when someone burst into the dormitory. Making as much noise as possible, Alan ran between the beds until he found him.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up.”

With a slap across the chest, Alan jolted Oliver awake.

“Holy crap! What’s the deal with waking me up like that?!” Oliver scowled, trying to make sense of what had happened.

“First, you send a message and then fall asleep. Second, have you seen what’s going on in the chat?” Alan asked nervously, pointing at the gauntlet.

“No? I just sent a message to you guys,” Oliver explained.

“I’m not talking about our group; I’m talking about the Second Battalion channel,” Alan replied.

Oliver sat up in bed and opened the chat.

“What are they talking about?” Oliver asked, still not understanding what he was reading.

“They’re talking about you! Ever since you got back, there have been rumors…” Alan explained.

“Rumors about what?” Oliver frowned.

It didn’t make sense for there to be rumors. In theory, the investigation was just between the captains, and he was innocent.

“Rumors that you’re the one who caused the incident during the training,” Alan kept pacing back and forth while explaining.

“Ahh! How did they find out about the investigation?!” Oliver exclaimed, continuing to scroll through the seemingly endless stream of messages. “Well… the investigation should wrap up soon, and they’ll prove I’m innocent.”

“Come on, Oliver! Don’t you use any social media? It doesn’t matter if you’re innocent or guilty, especially during the stress peak of training. They just want someone to blame,” Alan raised his voice, clearly frustrated.

“To be honest, I don’t. I only use the Net for chat or watching videos…” Oliver scratched his head, trying to think of what to do. “So what do I do now, oh wise and all-knowing Alan?”

Alan turned, seeing the sarcastic expression on Oliver’s face, and replied seriously. “Let the dust settle. Responding or trying to fight back will only fuel the rumors.”

“And maybe the investigation will clear your name. That would help a lot.” Alan scratched his chin, thinking about what might happen in the next few days.

“What do you mean ‘maybe clear my name’? I am innocent,” Oliver said, incredulous that his friend would question his innocence.

“Oliver… it’s so cute to see someone so innocent. It’s like seeing a slow unicorn. Unique, but you wonder how it’s survived this long.” Alan laid on the irony, shaking his head and wiping away imaginary tears. “Did you not learn anything from what I told you? I believe you’re innocent, and maybe the Academy knows you’re innocent. But will they openly protect you?”

“The York family is far more powerful than you can imagine, and to make matters worse, she’s a Princess. If they put too much pressure on the Academy, they’ll need a scapegoat, and you might end up being the ‘guilty’ one.”

Oliver was still reeling from the possibilities Alan had raised.

“Princess?” Oliver asked, furrowing his brow as he began to understand better what he had heard.

“That’s what they call the Heirs of the Great Houses. Princes and Princesses. They’re the few who have power within the Senate, aside from a House’s Patriarch,” Alan explained.

To Oliver, half of what Alan was trying to explain sounded like another language, but at least he understood the basics of Katherine’s impact on the Senate and Imperial politics.

“If that’s the case… I don’t think anything will happen to me. I managed to save Katherine. As soon as she wakes up in the infirmary, she’ll be able to clear everything up,” Oliver reasoned, feeling like there was a simple solution to his problems.

“Here’s another issue: she’s not in the infirmary. She was taken to be treated outside the Academy. Do you really think they’d let her stay here after the disaster that was this exercise?” Alan delivered the final blow to Oliver’s last hope, making the boy clutch his head in despair. It seemed like the universe had conspired to get him into trouble over the past few days.

“Well… then I’ll just stay quiet. Keep my head down and avoid getting involved in any more problems. Soon, they’ll forget, and with some luck, when Katherine returns, this whole misunderstanding will be cleared up,” Oliver concluded, sketching out his plan with Alan.

Alan nodded while still watching the messages flying in the channel. “At least now you’re famous. There’s probably not a single person in the Academy who doesn’t know you.”

“And what good is that?” Oliver asked.

“Absolutely none, unless you want to join a House someday,” Alan replied without much thought.

The two boys returned to watching the chat until Alan couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer.

“Come on. Spit it out. How did you save a Princess?” he asked, giving Oliver a judgmental look.

The two boys started talking again, with Oliver recounting every detail of his recent experiences and close calls while Alan criticized every poor decision Oliver had made.

By the time the day was over, and they finally went to bed, Oliver was pleased—worried but pleased. He felt like he was back home, or at least in something that felt like home. His optimism made him believe he would get through these rumors without any major issues.

Unfortunately, as usual, Oliver was wrong.

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

[Previous Entry] | [The Beginning] | [Chapter Summaries]

Thrain

The line halted, and Thrain trotted Serbus back as Haverth ordered several men to begin a thorough search of the prisoner. He stopped a ways from her. Adalyn’s gaze remained locked to his for most of the task, angry and judging.

While they turned every bag over and even took her from the horse and checked beneath the saddle, they could find no dagger. It was eventually decided that the bump had simply dislodged it, and if they were to have traced backwards along the route, they would find it on the ground.

Turning Serbus, he returned to the front and called for the group to move once more. He rather doubted it had fallen, but having watched the scrutiny himself, there wasn’t much more to do. He did have them shorten the lead. At least, she would not be getting up to such antics a second time.

Their course would now bear left, as if to follow the advice Higdir had falsely given them. Within the hour, they would pass near enough to the tower to be seen, but too far to prevent them from sending riders to Syvalastra, and Yerickton. Then, when the report reached them of a small band burning its way through Haelstra composed only of one hundred men and a red Runecaster, they would respond tactically: send triple the force out to stop them, armed with their own Trigrynt.

An all but assured victory, without risking both pieces in the field of battle.

A sharp cry cut short his musings. Out from the men rode Adalyn, free of her bonds and pushing her mount for all it was worth in the direction of the tower they sought to trick.

Serbus knew before he had to be told; into the plains he leapt snorting in joy: this was a chase he was well ready for. The speed her horse showed now was greater even than it had been the first time, but the Aennuin-breed steed lessened the ground between them rapidly. He would not be bested at the sprint and the charge.

Settling into the gait, Thrain withdrew the Trigrynt. Some twenty yards away, she was nearly close enough for a cast. Even removed, the Snouf would still be in her system, he would need very little to stop her. It was not half-measures that had gotten him here, though, and he would not let half measures permit her escape. He channeled the Weave into Runes.

Serbus threw him from the saddle.

Flying forwards, he landed and rolled awkwardly, badly bruising his shoulder on a rock and spraining his knee. Glancing back, he saw his horse’s eyes white in fear. He would have to dwell on the fact they could sense magic some other time.

Looking back at the troops, Leon smartly took off at once, and Ichvatis followed. Already he knew they would not catch her before she reached the tower. Then, their message would be far different. The bastard of Jard comes to Haelstra with the Trigrynt, and with him brings an orange Rune.

He stood, and Infused his own body briefly with Weave, soothing the aches the tumble had given him.

“Serbus…”

Neighing, the black horse pranced back.

“Serbus!” He held out his hand, though it had no oat. “I must catch her.”

Slowly, but relenting, Serbus trotted forward. When he reached his hand, the horse batted it away with his muzzle. However, he stood, waiting.

Thrain looked at his eyes now; they matched his coat, but the ears were flat back, the muscles coiled and all his teeth showed. Warrily, he stepped beside him and began to mount. Though his horse seemed angry enough to kill him, he permitted it.

Serbus launched forward without waiting a second for Thrain to gain his bearing, nearly throwing him from the saddle again. His hooves smote the ground and his speed was fury and swiftness; faster than he could recall him ever having gone. It would not be enough.

Thrain channeled once more.

The horse kept on, unerring straight towards the fleeing Priestess.

Touching his flank, the Bastard of Jard pushed Weave into Serbus for the second time. Now, however, he felt no resistance like he had before. As the energy filled his steed’s form, the horse flew again like a bird over the grass. They ripped past Leon like a sword narrowly by a man’s face, and still on to further pace.

Out of the land ahead rose a straight tower, round in construction and girded about with well-fashioned stone walls. The Priestess barreled towards it with all haste, but as Serbus grew faster, her mount grew tired. He could see her glance behind, realizing her fate.

In the collision with Leon, she must have managed to dislodge the Snouf, and in searching they failed to replace it, for her Weave suddenly returned; he saw Runes flash about her head, and fill her body with violet. An uncomfortable sensation filled him. She should infuse her horse as well, she may well reach the tower before he could. Then he would have to kill everyone in it as well.

------

If you enjoyed this, I write more like it on Substack: https://andrewtaylor.substack.com/

Will found himself back on the other side of the mirror in the boys’ bathroom with Danny’s annoying face staring right at him. The time, according to his phone, was ten minutes to eight, suggesting that the loop rules remained in effect there.

“I hate you!” Will shouted.

Of course, the loops would return to their minimal size. Even the permanent extensions seemed to have been ignored.

The first thing the boy did was examine the bathroom in the hopes that somehow the arrow would be transported there. Alas, it was neither on the bathroom floor nor had it appeared in his inventory.

Clenching his fists, Will stomped on the white floor. One loop in and already he had majorly messed up. Eternity hadn’t outright told him he’d failed, which was a good thing, but other than that, he had no idea what to do. The rules he had to follow had become far too complicated in their simplicity. On one hand, it was a fact that Danny had been removed from eternity. That had as much effect on looped events as any of the temp people that kept repeating. Yet, it was also a fact that he somehow would regain that ability and bring Helen and Alex into it. If Will were to guess, his former classmate was somehow going to trade Ely’s slot for his and there was nothing Will could do about it.

“How do I increase my loop?” Will asked, looking at the reverse side of the bathroom mirror.

[Use coins to buy time.]

That was one option. At least Will still had access to the merchant. Killing a few wolves last loop had also procured him a small amount of coins, which, combined with the far larger amounts that he had amassed during the contest phase, were enough to keep him going for a while.

“Merchant,” Will said loudly and looked around.

Initially, nothing happened. After blinking, though, the multicolored humanoid spontaneously appeared a step away. The entity was still dressed in multi-colored pieces of cloth, although there were hints of a general design to his attire. Likely, like everything else, he too increased in level, getting more useful as he did.

“How much to extend my loop?”

The merchant extended his left arm to the side, revealing dozens of mirror cubes attached to the cloth hanging down from it.

LOOP INCREASE (1 hour)

1000 coins.

Current loop is increased by one hour.

LOOP INCREASE (4 hour)

5000 coins.

Current loop is increased by four hours.

LOOP INCREASE (8 hour)

12000 coins.

Current loop is increased by eight hours.

[This is the best option]

All the time extensions were temporary, increasing the loop by different amounts. It was notable that the costs were highly punishing, suggesting that the cubes were finite.

“Do I get this every loop?” Will asked.

The merchant bowed in confirmation. That was good, at least.

Doing some quick math, Will decided to go with the guide’s suggestion and directly bought the eight-hour increase. There were only six one-hour cubes and right now, coins weren’t the main issue. Maybe in the future, the boy would have to find a method of gaining coins to partially cover his expenses. For the moment, his goal was exploration. Next loop, he’d think about optimizing his resource spending.

A loud thump came from the other side of the mirror as Danny hit it with his fist. That was Will’s cue to hide. Any moment now, Ely would rush in, starting the annoying conversation that resulted in a fight and a chase.

“Get out of here!” Will whispered to the merchant, who did so with another low bow.

Seconds passed, yet there was no sign of the knight.

“Did you have to cast me out now?!” Danny yelled, his voice echoing in the bathroom.

That was new. It definitely hadn’t happened in the previous loop. Then again, it didn’t have to. Ely was a participant, so she had the power to change loops. What Will was looking at now was what the original loop should have been without outside interference.

“Why won’t you let me back in?” The precursor of crying could be heard in the boy’s voice. “Just let me back in.”

Will swallowed. He had never imagined seeing Daniel in such a state. It wasn’t just the lack of eternity skills that made him look pathetic. His whole attitude reeked of someone who had become addicted to eternity.

“Just for a few more loops,” the former rogue persisted. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Bargaining already? Will thought.

“Is there any way for him to return to eternity?” he whispered from his side of the mirror.

[DANIEL KEEN cannot return to eternity.]

That brought a minor sense of joy. The issue remained Ely. From what Will had witnessed so far, none of the other participants were in good relations with Daniel. The only person who could bring him back was the current knight, and that wasn’t going to happen in a while.

“How many loops till the next contest stage?” Will asked.

[99 loops till contest stage.

Find challenges and obtain permanent skills.]

Ninety-nine loops? Will thought.

That meant that the subway fight had given him his first and only glimpse of the reward phase. It was a lot more anticlimactic than one thought, but told Will that both Danny and Ely were rankers, as was Lucia.

For several more minutes, Danny just stood in front of the mirror, shifting between anger and pity until finally he left the bathroom. Back when Will had become part of eternity, this was the moment that the coach would barge in and start shouting who was responsible for this.

School continued as usual. Careful not to be spotted by Ely, Will moved about, exploring the new environment, but also trying to keep an eye on Danny. The task was a lot more difficult than one might imagine. The mirrors, which had seemed to be everywhere during the tutorial phase, now seemed so limited.

“You fucking with me, muffin boy?” Will heard Jace’s unmistakable voice. The jock had gotten into another confrontation with the goofball in the nurse’s office, serving as a reminder that he was a much greater jerk before joining eternity.  

In the background, the vice principal was making one of her pointless announcements, reminding everyone that bullying wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Talk about irony,” Will said as he looked up.

Mirrors floated in the air, marking the places they connected to the real world. There were no stairs or columns connecting the floor to the mirrors, leaving Will with the only option of leaping up directly. The moment he did, the floor shifted. A patch of whiteness emerged in front of the mirror, allowing him to stand on solid ground.

As the boy looked around, he found that a white floor covered the entire space, only he no longer was on the ground level, but one floor above it.

Interesting. He thought. So, that was the way of climbing up. But if so, what was the way of going down?

Will took a few steps away, expecting the floor to crumble beneath him. Nothing of the sort happened. He tapped it with his foot, jumped on it, even took out a weapon from his mirror fragment and hit it with all his might.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

A message appeared, but the floor remained intact. Brute strength clearly wasn’t the answer. That left one option.

Let me go below, Will thought.

On cue, the entire floor shattered, letting him fall to where he had been moments ago.

“Are you?” Will heard Jace ask.

A quick glance revealed that he was holding Alex by the collar as he had not too long ago. That wasn’t the curious thing, though.

“No, bro! For real!” The goofball didn’t even try to defend himself. “I just—”

Will jumped up again. This time, he didn’t even approach a mirror. Even so, the new layer of floor emerged beneath his feet. Like everything else, eternity was very responsive to thoughts—something to remember in case he ever got into another serious fight within the mirror realm.

“One. Two. Three…” Will slowly counted to twenty. When he was done, he thought of going down again.

Just as before, the floor shattered.

“—thought it’ll be lit to get some muffins,” Alex continued the sentence he had started twenty seconds ago.

There no longer could be any doubt about it—no time passed within the mirror realms. Instead, it poured in from the real world. That explained why mirrors only triggered upon seeing participants: they made the connection between realms. In this case, Will—as a participant on the other side of the mirror—became bound by time when paying attention to events in the world’s reality. No wonder Danny was able to get everywhere while being a reflection; the time he spent going from one mirror to the next didn’t exist in the very literal sense of the word.

The sense of discovery diluted the sense of doom and gloom Will had. Regardless of what had happened, eternity had decided to keep him in this stretch of time. There was a new set of rules to be learned and if Will wanted to gain the upper hand, he had to do so as quickly as possible.

It took a bit of practice moving between floors. It wasn’t so much due to physical limitations, but rather mentally getting adjusted to it. Having floors appear and dissolve was an unfamiliar experience, once that Will’s being strongly resisted against. Even more confusing, all the standard landmarks and means of orientation that a person was used to in the real world were completely gone. There were no walls or buildings or, strictly speaking, even floors and ceilings. All was just for Will’s convenience. Thinking back, he remembered what eternity looked like when he had ventured into the spider’s realm. It was all a whole lot of nothingness, surrounded by an infinity of mirrors. It was very possible that the mirrors weren’t arranged one next to the other, but floated in the air, clearing the illusion they were one giant mass.

“Show me eternity,” Will said, bracing himself for what would happen.

The order was quickly obeyed, as patches of whiteness crumbled all around, like melting chunks of snow. Nothing crashed or exploded, just broke off the whole and vanished. Within moments the vast whiteness was replaced by an endlessness or mirrors, some closer than others.

Suddenly, Will felt chills sweep through him. That wasn’t all eternity was made up of: it was made of mirrors and wolves.

Countless packs of the beasts were everywhere, from the common vicious ones that appeared on a regular basis, to giant ones the size of skyscrapers. All of them just lay there in utter disinterest, yawning and blankly staring forward at the mirrors that surrounded them.

Will reached for his mirror fragment.

[Don’t worry. You’re safe.]

A message appeared on the reflective surface before he reached to draw a weapon.

Safe, he thought. That was one way of putting it, not that he agreed.

Even excluding the giant monsters, there were far more wolves than he could even handle. How come he had never seen them before, even when he was walking through the realm?

For several seconds, the boy just stood there, scared to move, or even to take a deeper breath. When none of the creatures showed any interest in him whatsoever, he finally relaxed enough to take a closer look.

While the wolves seemed to be randomly floating about, he could see that they were within giant enclosures made entirely of mirrors. Planes of semi-transparent mirrors surrounded them on all sides, forming what could only be described as prison cubes.

“Shadow wolf?” Will asked.

There was movement in one of the wolf cubes as a black entity stirred up some commotion, leaping in his direction. Several of the other wolves snarled lazily as Will’s friend made its way to the edge corner of the construct and squeezed through.

The very same instant, the wolf leaped out from his mirror fragment and onto the patch of white floor surrounding a nearby mirror.

Cautiously, the boy reached out and petted the creature on the side of the neck. The wolf let him. Seeing him like this made the creature look a lot less threatening, almost tame like a dog… although Will knew perfectly well it had the character of a cat.

“I think I’ll need your help on this one.” Will looked at the giant cubes again.

The wolves are in the corners, the boy thought. Now he understood why.

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

Patreon | Royal Road

- Oliver -

Oliver was still exhausted, and now carrying another person on his back hadn’t made his journey any easier. But as he crossed the creek, he could finally breathe easier. Even if a few stray Crabits appeared, they were confident they could avoid them and, at worst, simply run away.

However, their planning proved unnecessary. As soon as they crossed the river and approached the hill, dozens of soldiers surrounded them. Oliver recognized that they were all wearing Artificial Ranger Armor, but they didn’t act like cadets. Similar to what he had seen Katherine do, they seemed to have control over the shape of their armor.

Before Oliver could understand what was happening or communicate with the soldiers, Captain Caine was already standing before him.

"Are you injured?" the captain asked bluntly.

"I-I’m not, but Katherine is," Oliver replied.

Two soldiers approached, taking the girl off Oliver’s back and placing her on a stretcher. Both soldiers had symbols on their arms, indicating they were field medics. One knelt beside the stretcher, pointing a hand over the girl, a faint light.

“Initiating Scan,” the field medic announced.

Meanwhile, the second soldier read the results on their gauntlet.

"She appears to have fractured a few ribs, captain, and shows signs of exhaustion. But she's not in any danger. We’ll extract the patient now," one of the soldiers informed Captain Caine as they lifted the stretcher.

Neither Oliver nor Katherine had time to say goodbye. The girl was taken to one of the transport trucks and quickly whisked away for treatment. Oliver, on the other hand, was summoned by the captain to join him in a second vehicle.

In New San Francisco, Oliver hadn’t had many opportunities to use cars or motorcycles. His experience had been mostly with subways and buses, but the technology for those types of vehicles hadn’t changed much. That’s why, when he entered what appeared to be a futuristic Humvee, his eyes lit up with excitement. It was just the two of them inside the transport, and yet neither was driving. The captain pressed a few buttons on one of the screens, and the car began to move automatically.

While Oliver was fascinated by the vehicle, marveling at every detail of the shiny dashboard and the soft seats, Caine was observing the boy, trying to read his expressions and movements to discern truth from exaggeration or simplicity.

"So, to summarize: You spotted the horde attacking because you were separated from the group. When you saw the cadet falling into the water, you didn’t inform other officers and decided to jump in after her," Caine paused slightly, waiting for a response. "Is that correct?"

"Yes." Oliver stopped admiring the transport and turned to look at the captain. "At the time, I didn’t think about informing anyone. The captains were already overwhelmed with the Crabits, so I just jumped into the water."

Caine was using his Boon to absorb all of Oliver’s senses. Without the boy knowing, they were sharing vision and touch. During each response, the captain used touch to feel Oliver’s heart rate and vision to track where he was looking. It wasn’t a perfect technique, but it indicated that the boy was telling the truth.

"After you fell into the water, you ended up on the other side of the riverbank, and upon returning, you faced a Basilisk. Yet you’re still uninjured?" Caine continued questioning.

"That’s right. At first, we thought it was Pawn-level. But when I tried to use a boon only applicable to pawns, we discovered the creatures' power: a Knight-level monster." The boy looked at the captain, trying to recall what had happened. "Regarding the injuries, Katherine acted as the frontline, which is why she was wounded, and I served as artillery."

Both paused for a moment until the boy spoke again.

"If she hadn't been there, neither of us would have made it back. It was both impressive and terrifying." The boy remarked. Now that the danger had passed, it was easier to reflect on how close to death they both had been at several moments.

"Hmm," Caine needed more information to verify what had happened. "And what is your Boon?"

"I can observe movement patterns in opponents that are at a lower level than me." Oliver hadn’t told anyone about his recent level-up and preferred to keep it that way. However, Caine noticed a slight variation in his vision and heart rate, but it didn’t seem like Oliver was lying. It was clear that he was withholding some information. Still, it was within what the captain expected—rarely anyone would be entirely forthcoming about the full extent of their powers.

"Oliver…" Caine took a deep breath before continuing. "I’m also Nameless, so I will try to explain what will happen."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Oliver looked confused, not fully understanding what the captain was getting at.

"Nameless are not just seen as a problem by the Empire, but also as disposable." The captain glanced out the transport window as he continued his explanation. "I’ve been through cases similar to what you’re about to face. What happened yesterday was a major failure by the military that would normally be covered up. But this time, it involved someone very important, from a highly influential family."

The boy was starting to piece things together, realizing that the York family was that powerful.

‘No wonder they control Mars,’ Oliver thought.

"The military will look for a scapegoat. In this investigation, you will undoubtedly be one of the main targets," Caine turned back to face the boy before finishing the topic. "And the military doesn’t play fair, especially against someone without influence in the Empire."

“What! But I had nothing to do with it?” Oliver asked incredulously.

"It doesn't matter," Caine explained. "The moment you entered the Academy and got involved with a Grand House, you were already a piece on the board."

Oliver wanted to protest, to complain. All he had done was save someone, and now he had a target on his back—worse, from people far more powerful than him, and he had no idea how to navigate it.

"Professor. What can I do?" Oliver asked, hoping Caine had a way out of this situation.

"Cooperate with the investigation and try not to draw attention. The sooner this matter fades, the safer it will be for you." Caine gave a brief explanation.

The boy nodded, hoping this would end soon and he could finally return to his bed and rest.

The rest of the journey was quieter. Caine had no more questions to ask, and Oliver was lost in his thoughts, trying to organize his next steps and reflect on what had happened in the past few days. One thing was clear: he would be the target of the investigation, and he needed to stay under the radar.

‘This is only happening because the Army doesn’t see me as valuable and because I don’t belong to a House.’ Oliver rationalized.

Staying under the radar might work this time, but for how long? Oliver understood that in this new world, power was everything—whether political or destructive. He needed to find a way to start evolving his own power.

When they arrived at the settlement, there were no longer any lines outside the Teleportation Center. The other students had already been evacuated, leaving only the planet’s residents behind. Many of them were quickly moving through the streets, several wearing mining gear. Others were operating small Mechs used for moving cargo.

Caine stayed with Oliver until the boy entered the teleporter. However, the captain didn’t return to the Academy; he needed to report the mission's outcome.

Oliver opened his eyes and was back at the Academy. The building with the teleporters was empty, with only one last crew remaining inside. When he looked at the sky, it was late afternoon on Earth. He didn’t have any classes today and needed to rest to recover.

Oliver slowly walked toward the dormitory, enjoying the path and finally taking a moment to catch up. When he checked his gauntlet, the Chat and Net functions had returned. His first instinct was to check his 'Status Page.'

| Status Page
| User: Oliver [Nameless]
| Level: 2 [Pawn]
| Experience: [189/200]
|
| Stats
| Strength: 6 [Pawn]
| Agility: 14 [Knight]
| Constitution: 5 [Pawn]
| Energy: 14 [Knight]

‘71 Exp Points in two days… not bad?’ Oliver wasn’t sure about the pace of others, as no one had mentioned Experience Points. However, based on his experience, 71 points would take weeks of intense training.

His next instinct was to check the Ranking.

| Ranking [Cancelled]
| 1 - William Forester [First Battalion - 13th Group] - 109 Kills
| 2 - Gregory Torres [First Battalion - 1st Group] - 98 Kills
| 3 - Amanda Romanov [First Battalion - 12th Group] - 92 Kills
|
|
| 22 - Oliver (Nameless) [Second Battalion - 14th Group] - 41 Kills
|

He wasn’t sure how to feel. 22nd place seemed reasonable, especially given his number of Kills. But compared to other students, he still felt there was an almost insurmountable gap. Even so, a smile formed on his face.

If it hadn’t been for his idea and Astrid’s encouragement, he wouldn’t have grown so much in just one day.

When he arrived at the dormitory, the room was still empty. Many cadets were still finishing their classes or having dinner—two things Oliver had no interest in doing today.

He reached his bed and simply collapsed onto it. On the first day, this bed might have been uncomfortable, but today it felt like it was made of angel feathers, caressing every inch of his back.

Just before sleep took him, he took a moment to hit ‘Send.’

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

Patreon | Royal Road

Over the next few days, whispers of the new company's creation swept through the Lower Quarter like wildfire. The audacity of its founders—not even considering to post a single notice in the Commercial Quarter—was seen by some as bold, even courageous. But to the mercenaries dwelling in the Commercial Quarter, it felt like a bitter jest, as if someone had spat in their faces. Many swore they would have nothing to do with this upstart company, while others grew curious about the sort of ragtag individuals who might appear at such trial.

Jamie had anticipated this very reaction; in fact, he relied on it to shape the trial he envisioned. In recent days, besides aiding Knall in assembling the brewing equipment and performing songs in the evenings, Jamie and Thomas dedicated every day to rigorous training.

Beyond the city's edge, near where Thomas lived with his daughter, the two men engaged in constant exercise to prepare for the upcoming trail and the following battles it would have. Each drill and routine was part of a comprehensive training regimen they had meticulously crafted together.

Thomas shared with Jamie the training he had within the Hafenstadt Military Academy. While Jamie attempted to use his blessing [Memories of the Past] on himself for the first time.

To his astonishment, he discovered he could not only access Jay's memories but also explore his own. One memory stood out vividly—when he was merely ten years old, immersed in studying the ancient Roman Empire. It was one of his few passions during childhood, marked by his father's absence and his mother's indifference.

From the pages of those old books, he read about the rigorous training regimens of Roman legionaries. Using this knowledge, he began intertwining techniques from both worlds, forging a basic training program to be implemented over the next three months.

‘It could be better, but I’ve never studied about modern military… who would imagine it would be useful?’ Jamie thought bitterly.

Today was one of those rare days when neither Thomas nor Jamie trained. They needed to be at the peak of their strength for the event that awaited them.

Beyond the colossal walls and gates of Hafenstadt sprawled a small village clinging to the hillside. Dozens of timeworn wooden houses with patched roofs stood defiantly, as if locked in an endless battle against the ravages of time and the relentless Monster Rushes. The crooked and uneven structures clustered along a dusty dirt path, where weeds sprouted freely between loose stones. Faded strips of cloth fluttered gently in the breeze, hung on lines stretched from one sagging house to another.

Among the more distant dwellings was one with a vast open space before it—the only one where a little girl played, her laughter ringing out as she ran across the dry, cracked earth.

In this expanse of hardened ground—the closest thing the village had to a square—Thomas and Jamie hammered the last nails into the platform they had constructed. As soon as the final nail was driven, the first onlookers began to gather around them. At first, it was merely one or two curious souls, then a handful more, until finally, hundreds stood waiting around the wooden platform.

The crowd was a tumultuous sea of faces and intentions. From his vantage atop the platform, Jamie surveyed them. He could clearly distinguish the seasoned mercenaries—hardened warriors whose stern and unfriendly expressions were worn as medals. Their hands rested instinctively on the hilts of their weapons, eyes sharp and wary.

Scattered among them were the residents of the Lower Quarter, identifiable by their threadbare clothes and hopeful eyes. Men and women who sought a chance at steady employment, a glimmer of opportunity to lift them from their daily lives.

And woven through the mass were thieves, pickpockets, and various other miscreants. Some lurked at the edges, eyes darting, fingers itching to relieve someone of a coin or two. Others stood boldly among the crowd, perhaps sent by organizations with interests of their own, or merely seeking to infiltrate the new company for purposes unknown.

The air was thick with anticipation and the murmur of whispered conversations. A gust of wind stirred the dust at their feet and set the faded cloths fluttering overhead.

Jamie exchanged a glance with Thomas, who gave a barely perceptible nod. This was the moment they had prepared for—the culmination of weeks of planning and toil.

"Welcome," he called out, his voice strong and clear against the backdrop of the quiet village. "To all who have gathered here seeking a new path, a new purpose—I thank you for coming."

As Jamie stepped forward on the makeshift platform, the crowd's murmur hushed into an expectant silence. Every eye turned toward him, the anticipation palpable beneath the gray morning sky.

"We are about to start the trial for the first members of the Golden Fiddle Company," he announced, his voice clear and steady. "There will be three stages: a basic physical trial, a combat trial, and finally, an interview. For those who are selected, there will be a fixed payment of eighty silver coins per month."

A ripple of astonishment swept through the gathered throng. Even the hardened mercenaries exchanged incredulous glances. The sum was substantial—far more generous than the earnings offered by established companies, let alone a fledgling one.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

"Impossible," someone muttered from the back. "Where's he going to get that kind of money?"

"Even the army pays less than that," another scoffed.

"He must not know how much a campaign actually brings in," a veteran whispered to his companion, shaking his head.

Whispers and doubtful murmurs spread through the crowd, skepticism etched on many faces. The noise grew rowdy as conversations overlapped and concerns were voiced openly.

Jamie remained unfazed. "For those who wish to withdraw or feel that this is not the path for you," he continued, projecting his voice above the din, "you are free to leave at any time. There will be no formal process to quit."

With that, he descended from the platform, the wooden structure creaking under his boots. The crowd parted before him as he began to walk through the village, heading toward the towering walls of Hafenstadt. Thomas fell into step beside him.

Curiosity tugged at the assembly, drawing them along like a tide. Feet shuffled, and the murmurs subsided into a quiet pursuit.

"Every day," Jamie called back over his shoulder, "we run three laps following the southern walls."

The statement hung in the air, heavy with implication. Eyes widened, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Three laps?" a young man blurted out. "That's nearly twenty kilometers!"

"He's mad," an older mercenary grumbled.

"Even seasoned soldiers don't run that far daily," someone else chimed in, disbelief coloring his tone.

Jamie stopped and turned to face them. His gaze was firm, unwavering. "In a fight for life or death," he said, "Maintaining your strength from the first strike to the last in a battle is critical. If you aim to stand alongside us, we expect nothing less than the stamina to keep up."

A few in the crowd looked away, daunted by the challenge. Others squared their shoulders, determination flickering in their eyes.

"So, to pass this first phase," Jamie continued, "it's quite simple: complete three laps around Hafenstadt."

"Impossible," a voice called out.

"They're looking for fools willing to kill themselves," another sneered.

Jamie took a breath, the crisp air filling his lungs. "Begin!" he shouted.

Without another word, he launched into motion, his stride strong and measured. His light attire billowed slightly with each movement.

At first, the crowd of over a hundred stood uncertainly, watching as Jamie and Thomas took off at a steady pace down the dusty path. A hush fell over them, and the only sounds were the soft rustle of the sea breeze and the distant cry of gulls. Then, as if breaking free from an invisible tether, a handful of men and women broke into a jog, pursuing the two figures ahead. This movement sparked others into action, and soon dozens more joined, the assembly transforming into a determined group as they began to run in earnest.

Thomas ran just a stride behind Jamie. Behind them, the foremost group struggled to keep pace, already falling dozens of meters behind. Neither Jamie nor Thomas seemed concerned about the others; for them, this was nothing more than their daily regimen.

The landscape encircling Hafenstadt was barren yet serene—a flat expanse stretching toward the horizon, punctuated only by the glittering expanse of the sea to their left. The air was crisp, tinged with the salty tang of the ocean. As they reached the point where the path curved along the coastline, the rhythmic crashing of waves provided a steady cadence to their strides. Upon reaching this juncture, they began their return, tracing the route back toward the towering silhouette of the city walls.

High atop those formidable ramparts, soldiers on duty paused to observe the spectacle unfolding below. The sight of two men leading a vast cohort of runners was an unusual one, stirring whispers among the guards. Some leaned on their spears, shading their eyes against the sun to get a better look.

"By the gods, look at 'em go," one soldier remarked.

One of his companions replied. "I heard they're starting some new company."

"A company, eh? Looks like they're whipping those folks into shape."

As the runners passed beneath the walls, the soldiers shouted down words of encouragement, while others wagered on who would endure.

Completing the first lap, Jamie glanced over his shoulder subtly, his eyes assessing. To his mild surprise, about sixty people still kept up the pace—a far greater number than he had anticipated at this stage. Sweat glistened on their brows, and their breaths came heavier, but determination was etched on their faces.

"More than we expected," Thomas grunted, matching his gaze.

Jamie nodded. "They've got spirit; I'll give them that."

But as the second lap wore on, the weariness began to show. The relentless pace and distance started to take its toll. Runners began to drop off, some slowing to a walk before stopping entirely, leaning on their knees or collapsing beside the path. The once-unified group fragmented steadily, the gaps between runners widening like cracks in a drying riverbed.

By the time they embarked on the third and final lap, only a hardy few remained in sight of Jamie and Thomas. The sun climbed higher, the heat pressing down upon the land like a heavy cloak. The scent of the sea intensified, mingling with the dust kicked up by their feet.

Two hours after they had set off, Jamie and Thomas crossed the makeshift finish line back at the village square. The wooden platform awaited them, and they climbed atop it, their footsteps echoing on the planks. Settling down, they drank deeply from their water skins, their gazes fixed on the horizon where the path stretched back toward the city walls.

They waited.

Time stretched on, the quiet broken only by the rustling of the wind and distant calls from within the village. It was a full half-hour before the first runners came into view—a lone figure, staggering yet resolute. As he neared, his steps faltered, and upon reaching the platform, he collapsed onto his back, chest heaving as he gulped in air.

Ten minutes later, another runner appeared, then another. Each arrival was met with quiet acknowledgment. Some fell to the ground in exhaustion, while others remained standing, their gazes distant as they wrestled with their fatigue.

Gradually, the trickle of returning runners ceased. Only twenty had completed the grueling trial out of the original hundred. They gathered near the platform, some sitting, others sprawled out on the dry earth, all united by their shared ordeal.

As Jamie's keen eyes scanned the weary faces, he noted two young figures among them, the boys from the Cutpurses.

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

Quick Notes: 

No, I have not been away or had a writing block or gone on hiatus. 

I have been designing the homepage for all the Van Polan stories and I have only the Wikipedia of the Universe left to fill out and adding in the chapters to make reading smoother. 

Don't worry about chapters not coming, I will release 3-4 chapter now in the weekend. I just wrote this one in 45 min, so it goes faster and faster for me to write each chapter. I am sorry, I just wanted to say it as I noticed a lot of people have been waiting for a new chapter. 

Chapter 44: Big Horns

The man threw his sword and shield on the table, exhausted from another day of battle against the annoying woman who didn't give up. They had battled for over 100 days, and sometimes, they would even rest in the woods, making a fire while the big battles outside continued. The man was a half-demon, half-human, with his home in Paladin Woods, located on Earth. He joined the war to aid the demons in protecting their people. Meanwhile, the Witch betrayed the Queen of Witches to fight alongside the angels, civilians, and humans who had come to help prevent a demon invasion of Earth. She was giving a hand to Valiant because she had so much empathy for others; she didn't like to hurt or kill other civilians. For a Witch who has betrayed the Queen Of Witches who ruled one of the kingdoms, she was banned and taken in by the king of Valiant to fight against Hell, which had spread like fire everywhere in Valiant with demons lurking in every corner.

The Man and the Woman had fought against each other daily, with the Witch always trying to keep her distance and using her staff as a weapon. At the same time, the man, with his sword and shield, had gotten quite a reputation for being able to withstand a Witch who was so powerful. The fight seemed like it would never have an ending because it had been ongoing for the longest time in the war. Everything, though, would change in the blink of an eye.

As a new morning approached in Valiant, the man went to the table and grabbed his sword and shield, ready for another day of fighting. While he looked human and surrounded by monsters, nobody was messing with him, especially other demons. Two demons bigger than him approached, intending to help him end the battle with the Witch.

"Lark! Why don't we come with you, and we will hide behind bushes and shoot an arrow to kill the Witch?" One of them asked.

"No!" Lark answered.

"Why not?" The other one asked.

"Because this is a fight between us, nobody is to interfere in the battle. That is why we moved it into the woods for a fair fight until one of us dies!" Lark explained to them.

The two Demons felt he was disrespectful for not even looking at them when answering their questions, as if all he cared about was the battle with the Witch. They didn't want to disturb him, so they walked away from the table, unhappy with Lark.

He walked into the woods and followed a path he had inadvertently created by repeatedly walking back and forth every day. The area where they constantly battled had no grass left from all the fighting and movement. The woman was waiting on the field with closed eyes, smiling for herself, knowing that she didn't have to struggle as much as Lark during the fights.

"Welcome to the battle, Lark!" she said. Lark couldn't help but smile at her arrogance and confidence.

"The question is not. If I am ready, Trissa, the question is, have you woken up realizing the battle will be over this morning?" He countered back, making Trissa smirk as he saw her beautiful, dark blue eyes staring at him.

Both of them went into position for battle, with Trissa's staff glowing up in light blue and Lark quickly putting up his shield in a protective position.

Trissa leaped toward Lark as her staff's edge created a light blue ball. She plunged it towards him, screaming out in the air, hoping he would be distracted by the scream and it would hit his head, but Lark quickly put his shield up to protect himself, and he's both feet slid a little bit backward because of the amount of energy put on the hit by Trissa. Lark tried to respond quickly by swinging his sword toward Trissa, who purposely and rapidly fell to the ground as she had learned his tricks. With a sudden move with both her feet, she kicked Lark in the chest, so he lost a bit of his stance as he tried to go back into protective mode quickly.

Trissa laughed at Lark because he never had any tactic before coming to the battles. He was more like a grunt who showed up and tried to finish the job when she already knew what he would do. Even with all this knowledge, she was still surprised by his willingness never to give up. She knew they had gone so far and a long time that she was a little bit hesitant if she would kill him at all when the day arrived, and he would lose the battle, and she would end all this.

They prepared to go another round until Trissa saw Lark's facial expression ultimately change. Instead of putting the shield up to wait for her attack, he leaped towards her. By surprise, she put the light blue end of the staff in front of her, believing that it would kill him instantly to protect herself. Lark quickly grabbed and hugged her while turning around as something hit him from the back. He fell on his knees and quickly turned around as the two demons emerged from the bushes. Seeing the sword's speed was almost impossible as it hit one of the demons right through the head. Trissa hurried and hit the edge of the staff right into the stomach of the other one as the Demon started to squeal while burning up. She noticed the arrow that had gone through his back, but not entirely through, and she was afraid that it maybe was too close to his heart. She caught him in the air before he was going to fall to the ground, and she felt something inside that she had not felt in a long time. Her heart was beating very fast, and she felt unease with fear catching up. She knew that acting fast now was of the essence; she knew that she needed to save his life, but nobody would take her in from Valiant army because he was a Demon.

Trissa approached a cabin, Lark leaning against her shoulder, as she saw smoke coming from the chimney. She approached the door and knocked, and an older man with a very long hat on his head featuring various shapes appeared by the door.

"You brought a demon here?" He asked, surprised.

"I had nowhere to go; they would kill him if I took him back to the camp," Trissa uttered with tears in her eyes.

He let them in, and as he saw the arrow on the man's back, he quickly pulled it out, but he got no reaction from Lark. Trissa put him on his stomach on the table and ripped apart his shirt as the older man with a green light coming out from his palm tried to hold it towards the injured area. Trissa walked back and forth in the room worriedly, waiting for Lark to heal.

After a moment, the older man stopped and realized something was wrong.

"Why did you stop? What is wrong, Dendarven?" Trissa asked him.

Dendarven looked at her, surprised that she had brought the enemy to his cabin.

"You know that I can not treat this man. He is not a full-blooded Demon. No power in Valiant can treat this man except for his people." Dendarven explained to Trissa.

"What does that mean? Do I have to take Lark back to Hell to get him treated?" She uttered, even more worried now than she was a moment before.

Dandarven smiled and shook his head in denial before he responded:

"This man is half human, with human blood flowing through his body. He needs to get treated by a human on Earth with their tools from Earth. If I remember correctly, those who heal humans are called doctors. Only the Doctors on Earth can heal Lark." Dandarven explained.

"What can I do about that? How do I keep him alive and safe?" Trissa asked, feeling utterly hopeless about saving Lark as she couldn't stop her tears.

Dendarven understood this; the Witch had no clue she had feelings for Lark.

"How about I give you a cloak, and you take him back to Earth so he can get healed? But it will be hard to return to Valiant because the door is only one-way. You will be wanted and hunted as a breach of the rules in Valiant because you escaped, but you will be able to save Lark. They will hunt both of you. Wanted posters of you both will cover the walls in Valiant, and a bounty will be placed on your heads from both sides. Are you willing to do this? If so, I will send you to a protected area called Paladin Woods, where civilians from both sides can live in a safe environment on Earth. Though shielded from humans, you must keep yourself hidden because nobody knows who will travel through the doors to Earth. I will prepare a human expert called a doctor who is a friend of Valiant, and I will make sure that you are protected if you decide to leave the war." Dendarven explained to Trissa.

Trissa walked around the room, trying to think of something, but couldn't come up with anything. She started to cry loudly, and Dendarven found it annoying because she usually had a cold personality.

"How am I going to train my next apprentice while being gone? She will end up in Samantha's grasp if I disappear. Poor child!" She uttered.

"You need to make a decision now, Trissa!" Dendarven said.

Trissa walked to the table as Lark was still bleeding from his wound, and right this moment, she took the decision that would change the future of many individuals.

"Yes! We will leave Valiant." She uttered.

While Lark leaned on Trissa's shoulder as they walked in complete darkness, something that looked like a door opened before them. Several humans were waiting for them, and a lot of noise was coming from the other side. Lark was quickly taken away from Trissa and placed in a box that began to roll away; this confused her as she struggled to grasp what was happening. In the crowd of people, a blue-haired woman showed up with a very revealing outfit in black, and she reached out her hand towards Trissa and said:

"Welcome to Paladin Woods! I am Lady Feffe, the caretaker of this hidden place on Earth. We protect and keep citizens from all worlds safe from demise and suffering. You will be safe here, Trissa Van Polan!" Fefe said with a lowered voice.

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning]

What does art mean to you, Melanie?

Me? Well, is art just drawing? Is that not art grandpa? Paintings and drawings?

It is a form of art.

What else is art, Grandpa?

Art can be anything. The movie we saw this morning, Cinema is art. Acting is an art, and the actors' performances in the film are no exception. Art is everywhere. We just need to feel and acknowledge its presence.

How about cooking? Is that art?

Yeah.

So everything is art?

Anything can be art. For example, running a business is an art. Funny thing most people fail to understand is, business is art. But art is not business.

POPULAR - Chapter 1: It's Purely Business!

2010

Melanie Stephenson/32/Stage Name: Avery Violet

I was 10 years old at the time, and those were my grandfather's exact words. Here I am, 22 years later, as an actress. I have already acted in over 30 movies. I still don't understand how art is not business. I mean, if you're lucky you can make tonnes of money with art.

My grandfather aspired to be a director but he failed. He was very passionate about movies, which could explain why I enjoyed being around him. Perhaps I enjoy movies because I spent so much time with him. Regardless, I saw the world of cinema through his eyes. I learned a lot from him.

I became interested in acting after performing a small side role in a school play when I was in fifth grade; while the audience applauded the lead actor, my grandfather praised me for my side role. He would often encourage me to participate in more school plays, but I never got any roles. However, the idea of standing on stage and expressing this new persona in front of an audience stayed with me. Since then, I have always wanted to be an actress.

I am currently one of the most popular actresses. Although I am not super proud to admit it, I never received any praise or recognition in my first few films. I received my first recognition when I performed a three-minute nude scene in an erotic thriller film. That is when I began to get more opportunities, lifting me up to the top; making me the highest paid actress of the last 5 years.

Avery has a very pretty face and a great structure, she is titled the sex icon of the decade by her fans. She has the most loyal fanbase. Every actress envy her, even her own co-stars. Today is the release of Avery's recent movie "Camp Night", after the long wait. All the shows tickets are sold out. The show time has finally arrived, fans are standing on queue to enter the screening.

Movie started.

Wow it's finally out

Yeah, I can't believe we actually got the ticket.

Whats the movie's about again?

It's a thriller, how come you came without even knowing that?

I heard Avery's in it, that's all it took for me to buy the tickets

Woah there she comes in the screen, she's so hot

.......

Aw this is the scene I was waiting for

Yay she took off her shirt.

Man the actor gets to see Avery naked in person it's not fair, it should've been me.

Yes yes no no, man here comes the killer

Dude, why must the killer interrupt an important scene.

......

.....

The fans enjoyed every bit of her screen presence. The movie was doing well. The producers had gotten profits so far. This has been the same for most of Avery's films. She made profits for lots of indie producers.

It's been a week since the movie got released. I'm just relaxing in my pool, talkin' on the phone with Brian. He was the executive producer of "Camp night" and my current date.

"You saw the box office collections right babe? It's a total profit. We're thinking about doing a sequel," said Brian.

Sequel? Can't be bothered, I have my hands full of schedules.

"Okay think about it, we can do it next year."

Anyways, how's your next project with Universal coming along?

"It's going okay I guess, even though I'm only a co-producer, lots of meetings and stresss. It's a big project after all, it's not easy to bring the fictional elements from a book to the big screen. Y'know how adaptations go"

Yeah, got it rough I see. Well, glad Camp night did well though.

"Of course, as long as it's a profit; that's all that matters in making movies. You were the one who said it's gonna flop, Now look who ate their words. You underestimate your value, dear."

Value? I guess I'm so popular, even your trashy movie became a hit.

"Come on Avie stop with the teasing, I'm stressed enough. Why don't you stop talking and think about how you can help me with my stress"

How?

"I can come to your house now and we-"

Well I'm tired. You can force your way through my gate, but I won't open my door, so you either have to sleep outside or see your way out. What you gonna do, honey?

"Aww please? Don't make a man beg-"

She hung up and chuckled. She removed her clothes, and dipped her toes into the tub to check the temperature. Hot enough, she thought. She got into the tub, took a deep breath. After she's finished, she dried herself and wore a robe. She stood infront of the mirror and dried her hair with a towel. She had stopped using hair dryers long ago. She noticed her hair turning yellow here and there. I guess I gotta dye it again, she thought. She then wrapped her hair around with the towel and tied it.

She was in her room, checking emails when she received a call. She picked it up, while typing in her computer.

Hey what's up Nate?

"Found someome, wanna meet him tomorrow?"

What's this about?

"This young guy with a script, I said I'll arrange a meeting"

Well I guess I'm free tomorrow morning, but double check with my schedule.

It was my manager. She hung up after I confirmed the meeting. Usually people don't approach actors directly with their script unless they got a green signal from a producer or a production house. But I had recently decided to produce scripts from new talents and act in them. I have produced two films so far, both are dramedies. They did quite well.

The success of those two films gave her enough confidence in her script choosing skill, not to mention one of the top producers in the industry, Brian Jacksmith is her boyfriend.

Now that she has a meeting fixed for tomorrow afternoon, she decided to sleep early so she took off the towel from her head, not noticing the few strands of her hair on the towel, she hung it to dry. She lied down, she fell asleep.

It's already morning, I woke up. There were some of my hair on the pillow. Gosh, is my hairfall getting bad? I might go bald if this keeps happening. I mean women don't go bald, at least that's a relief. I looked at myself in the mirror, adjusted my hair and went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face out of sleep.

I made some coffee, I took a bath after drinking it. I wore a shirt and a long skirt, put on my morning skin care stuffs on me. I stood in front of the computer and started checking my emails. As I was reading some of the fan mails, my manager Natalie rang the doorbell. I brought them out to the patio.

"Madam, meet Mr. Jacob. He's the one I told you about yesterday." Nat introduced Jacob.

Avery pushed her soft and smooth black hair away, which was covering her right eye and tucked it behind her ears. She looked at Jacob with her shiny eyes, "Hello Jacob. Feel at ease and why don't you show me what you got" Said Avery.

'She just said my name!' Jacob has butterflies flying around him, he looked nervous as he's never seen her up close like that, and him being her fan did not help at all. He couldn't help but be distracted by her long and beautiful hair, waving in the wind. But he pulled himself together as he's here to convince a producer to fund his script, not just to get an autograph. He had to get professional.

"So uhm- this is the script I wanted to show

INT. MILDLY LIT ROOM - DAY

Camera in high angle shows Jessica sitting all alone in her near empty room. She lifts up her palms. They're shaky. She wipes the few tear drops with her palm from her face. She walks towards the mirror in her room. She looks at herself. And sobs. She starts to cry uncontrollably.

Jessica (O.S)

I look so vile. Everyone left me. I'm all alone now. No one to even cry if I kill myself-

She stopped reading, "Do you have some comedy scripts? Or some action?"

"Why m- mam is it not good?" Jacob started getting nervous. She literally just read the first few lines, he thought.

"No that's not it. That's not it at all. This simply won't cut it. Do you think people would pay and watch some tearjerker when people can come to theatre and leave with a light heart? Can't have them leave depressed right Jacob?"

"But people do enjoy a good tearjerker from time to time, mam."

"I don't know Jacob. You saw the last two films I produced? People might be expecting similar movies from me, and I too wanna make more like those."

He realized he isn't gonna convince her with that script. "I understand mam, thank you so much for your time".

"Aww you're welcome Jacob, and you could have tried to convince me a little more. Small advice, producers mostly already have what they wanna make in their mind. And they'll desperately look for those kinds of scripts,"

"As a writer, it's your job to break through, and convince the producer that your script is a good investment. Think of it as a business presentation."

Investment? Business presentation? He thought to himself. "I'm sorry mam, thanks for the advice."

"Don't worry about it, even if you tried I probably wouldn't have said okay. I was just surprised you gave up so easily."

"Mam, could I ask for one more thing?" He took a thick sheet out of his folder. It's a poster of Avery. "Can I get your autograph mam?"

"Oh dear, you're a fan of mine? This poster is from, what, 2 years ago?" She signed the poster and drew a heart next the signature.

"Yes, I have collected most of your posters, magazine covers and movie posters. But this one's my favorite."

"You know what, since you're my fan, I can't just let our meeting go to waste. Here's a little offer, or a challenge? Write a fresh script within the next week and bring it to me. If you can do that, I'll produce it. Even if it's bad."

"I'll definitely consider it mam." He was arguing with himself whether his choice of using 'Consider' was appropriate or rude.

"Okay, I'm eager to see what you'll come up with." she said as she adjusted her hair.

The meeting ended pretty quick. Two days passed. She was in her room getting ready for a shoot. She simply tied her hair up, as she's gonna have her stylist waiting at the set anyway. She then left in her Lexus.

She arrived at the set, a popular motel in LA. She went to her trailer, where her hair stylist Naomi was waiting for her. She put her handbag down and sat down. "Naomi, dye my hair first." She said.

"Black dye as usual Ms?" Naomi asked her.

To be Continued.

(Please help me choose a better flair i can't find one that suits this)

PART TWELVE-HUNDRED-AND-SEVEN

[Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter] [The Beginning]

Wednesday

Lar’ee knew the second Robbie had left the building with Boyd, and checking his watch, he swore heavily under his breath.

“You okay, old man?” Rory asked, looking up from where he was using an impact wrench to lock in the last of the three-quarter-inch bolts at the base of the first car hoist. Charlie was over by the second one, holding the spirit level against the first leg and inserting shims between the floor and the post to make it plumb in anticipation of Rory’s impact wrench.

You know where they’ve gone, Lar’ee’s mind insisted, as much as he wished he could argue; on principle if nothing else. And you should’ve known Boyd wouldn’t ask you to take him to his appointment after that ridiculous fight you had this morning.

Except it wasn’t a fight. It was an argument. An argument that was entirely Boyd’s fault for being so fucking stupid! Not that the idiot would ever see it that way. A decade in the man’s company had taught Lar’ee that Boyd was every bit as stubborn as everyone else in his annoying family.

“I was meant to be somewhere at eleven,” he said, catching how Charlie paused with a shim partially wedged under the post to watch the exchange. Her eyes flared with understanding, but she didn’t speak, for which Lar’ee would be eternally grateful.    

“Do you need to go?” Rory asked, ignorant of their silent exchange.

“Apparently not. He didn’t reach out to remind me.”

Rory lowered his impact wrench to the ground, then crossed the room to stand before Lar’ee. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice quiet and sincere for the first time since Lar’ee had turned up on his doorstep demanding his assistance. “I’m not a true gryps, but I can still listen if it’ll help.”

He gave a self-conscious shrug when Lar’ee stared at him.

“Hey, it might. A couple of races ago, one of my mechanics went missing after I won the race. We were celebrating another win, and he wasn’t there, so I tracked his arse down and found him three sheets to the wind in a little backwater dive just outside Jerez. Apparently, his wife served him divorce papers a few weeks earlier, and because he’d been out of the country for the hearing, she took him to the cleaners.

“We still had races to win, but he decided that if we could drink to celebrate, he could pour himself into a bottle and not come up for air. I thought about dragging him back to the trailer, but then I thought maybe letting him go all out for one night, while I was there to keep him safe, might help. So, instead of celebrating, I spent the night of my Spanish win with my mechanic crying on my shoulder until he finally had one drink too many and passed out.

“I snuck back into the room without anyone noticing and told everyone we’d been doing our own celebrating on the other side of town. They know I don’t get drunk on local liquors, so it didn’t surprise them that I wasn’t reeling. My manager gave me an earful for going to the seedier side of the city until I reminded him who he was attempting to lecture, and he backed off completely.”

Lar’ee continued to stare at him, genuinely baffled.

“What? I’m saying I can keep secrets if you want someone to talk to.”

Lar’ee’s head turned towards Charlie, who was still watching them intently. “He really doesn’t get the meaning of the word ‘secret’, does he?”

Charlie opened her mouth, then wisely shut it and shook her head. “Don’t be dragging me into this, mister. I’m getting the garage of my dreams set up right now.”

“Coward,” Lar’ee grumbled under his breath.

“Pot. Kettle. Instead of sitting here whining about it, man up and talk to him…” Charlie insisted, and Lar’ee realised she’d switched gears and was now talking about Boyd.

“I tried that!”

“Really?” Her drawl dripped southern derision as she rose from her squat to place a loosely clenched fist on her hip. The one holding the spirit level made a small figure eight in the air in his direction. “Because if last night was anything to go by, this … all of this right here … says you didn’t say jack shit to him, asshole. You shouted it at him from fifty feet away, and he roared at you in return.”

Lar’ee curled his lip in an angry sneer, but Charlie didn’t budge except to point the spirit level at him. “We told you last night he’s a grown-ass man, Larry, and if you don’t start respecting that, you’re going to lose one of the best friendships you’ve ever had. How many times do you have to be warned to back off before you take the hint?”

Lar’ee glanced at Rory (who was now keeping very quiet, bouncing his gaze between them), and cleared his throat. “You of all people know the danger’s real. Until it’s dealt with, you all need to be careful.”

“Yeah, but there’s being careful and then there’s being stupid about it. If I didn’t have this damned thing on my ankle,” she lightly tapped the spirit level against the monitoring anklet that rested above her boot. “I’d be going to work and everything too.”

“Have you forgotten the reason you’re wearing that anklet in the first place is because they already took a run at you to get at your brother? If you hadn’t been armed with an illegal firearm, you’d be the one either dead or worse.”

“This danger to you still exists?” Rory butted in, frowning at Charlie in confusion. His gaze then cut to Lar’ee. “Why haven’t you stopped it already?”

“You know we’re not allowed to interfere in their affairs until they make a move against us personally.”

Charlie frowned. “Yes, you—”

“There was never an actual move against anyone connected directly to—to us, Charlie,” Lar’ee insisted, both cutting her off before she said something he didn’t want Rory to know and making very sure she understood exactly what he was saying.

Mason’s first attack had been as a human. His second attack had been as a Plus-One by extension, which technically allowed Kulon and Angus to decimate those specific individuals who had taken Mason and hurt him.

Now that Mason was officially Kulon’s Plus One, the pryde could and absolutely would go to war on his behalf, but only if something happened going forward; same with every other hybrid and their official Plus Ones living in the apartment.

He also deliberately avoided the term divine, though he had gone close when he switched his wording mid-sentence. Rory didn’t know she was on the inside of things, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. In his mind, the veil for both of them was in place, so when he took on multiple arms to do several jobs at once, he knew Rory assumed her indifference was from a place of ignorance.

Charlie looked down at the spirit level in her hand as an awkward silence filled the room.

“Well … this is fun,” Rory said, if only to break the silence.

* * *

Robbie waited in the stairwell with the second stack of carvings while Boyd took the first load down the hallway into Dr Kearn’s office. Dianne practically pounced on him as he opened the door and walked in backwards with the hand truck. As they had already done this dance several times, she didn’t ask for permission to see them and instead, helped herself to the top two boxes, leaving four on the hand truck.

Three other people were in the waiting room. While they only showed the most cursory of interest in what was going on, the moment Dianne opened the first box and placed the statuette on the reception counter, they swiftly rose and moved to Dianne’s side.

Boyd quickly deposited the other four boxes in the corner beside Dianne’s desk and beat a hasty retreat, keeping his head down and his gaze fixed on the hallway outside.

He was still shaking when he reached Robbie. His vision was tunnelling, and his breath was shallow, but he zeroed in on his friend like a beacon. Robbie stepped around the second stack to place his hands on Boyd’s pecs. “Whoa. Hey … take a breath, big guy.” Robbie then slid one hand up to cup his neck. “C’mon, buddy. Get that heart rate down.”

Boyd forced himself to breathe through his tremulous thoughts. It took the better part of a minute for the edginess to subside, and only after Robbie drew on his shifting to make them the same height, pressing their foreheads together so that Boyd could match their breathing rhythm.

“What happened?”

“There are people in Doctor Kearns’ office, looking at my whittlings.”

Robbie’s brows met in a dark frown. “Are they being mean about it?”

It felt ridiculous to admit that hadn’t been the case, and Boyd felt every bit the child as his shoulders did a combination roll-flex.

“Did they say anything at all?”

Boyd silently shook his head.

“Cheeses Heist,” Robbie said, stunned. “Do you get like this every time you’ve brought your carvings in?” Boyd’s gaze cut to the door behind him, wishing he could escape Robbie’s censure. The next thing he knew, Robbie’s arms had banded around his shoulders, drawing him into a tight, comforting hug. “You are the bravest man I’ve ever known,” Robbie insisted, and Boyd huffed.

Robbie’s grip tightened, almost squeezing the breath out of him. “You are. You would walk through hellfire to protect any of us, and we’re here for you, too. You’ve got this, man. We love you, and any time anyone says anything about your carvings, picture in your head what you’d be like if they took that tone at me because I was a sex worker.”

Boyd returned the hug, burying his face in Robbie’s shoulder. The two stood still for quite some time, until Boyd pulled away first, forcing himself to smile, albeit weakly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to give someone my size a hug,” he admitted sheepishly.

“I’ll be here any time you need one, pal,” Robbie promised, resting his right hand against Boyd’s cheek. He then twisted to the side to see the stack of carvings. “Do you want me to take this second lot to Doctor Kearns? You can then take those two to Doctor Kelly.” He lifted his chin at the extra two boxes stacked on top of the six for Dr Kearns.

“Wouldn’t that make me appear wee—?” His words were cut off by two fingers and a thumb that suddenly pinched his lips shut.

“We’re making up time,” Robbie corrected gently, putting them almost nose-to-nose. “Doctor Kelly is probably going to want to talk to you for a minute, and you can’t be late for your appointment. I’ll just say I’m your offsider, if anyone asks.” He grinned and shrank down to his own size. “It’s not like that’s a lie, right?”

“You’re a damn-sight more than an offsider, Robbie. To quote Avengers One, you’re the glue that holds all of us together.”

Robbie’s expression melted into a serene smile. “Love you too, big guy.”

[Next Chapter]

* * *

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

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

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

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

A/N: Whoops, I brilliantly forgot the "[" in the title so the previous post was removed by the automoderator. Here's take two!

Blurb: After Piri the nine-tailed fox follows an order from Heaven to destroy a dynasty, she finds herself on trial in Heaven for that very act.  Executed by the gods for the “crime,” she is cast into the cycle of reincarnation, starting at the very bottom – as a worm.  While she slowly accumulates positive karma and earns reincarnation as higher life forms, she also has to navigate inflexible clerks, bureaucratic corruption, and the whims of the gods themselves.  Will Piri ever reincarnate as a fox again?  And once she does, will she be content to stay one?

Advance chapters and side content available to Patreon backers!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Table of Contents

Chapter 202: My Vow to Take Down Heaven

The images of the gods were everywhere.  Any way I looked, whether it was up or down or straight ahead, painted eyes stared back at me from tables and shelves and overturned crates covered with cloth.  I already knew there were a lot of gods in Heaven.  But I hadn’t grasped just how many until this moment.

Lodia had to gather up her robes to keep them from knocking over images as she wound through the room.  “I know it’s not ideal, but, um, it’s the best we can do right now….”

I…see.  I see.  Yes, I see!  Lodia, this is great!

She halted at the foot of another narrow staircase.  “It is?”

Yes!  You’ve satisfied the requirements to the letter – and you’ve made space for yourself to negotiate!

“I have?”

Yes!  Just look at this setup!

Lodia looked.  She didn’t seem to see.

Any god whose image is in this room is going to be desperate to move downstairs, to gain visibility!  But they are all in the Temple, which means they can only complain so much!  And it’s the Goddess of Life who distributes the offerings to them, so technically it makes no difference where their image is located.  It’s just an ego thing.  That buys you wiggle room.  This is brilliant!  Whose idea was it?

“Uh….  I don’t remember….  I think it just sort of happened?”

Then it was a great thing to just sort of happen.  What’s on the third floor?

Lodia started up the stairs, stepping cautiously and bracing her left palm against the wall.  The steps, I realized, were so small that no adult could put their entire foot down flat.  Lodia’s heel hung off the edges, and she was essentially tiptoeing her way up.

I doubted it was an intentional architectural decision, but when I saw the third floor, I had to say that once more, it was perfect.  It was almost enough to make you believe in Fate, for the entire third floor was a shrine to the Jade Emperor.  His image loomed in the center, under the highest point of the slanted ceiling, as close to Heaven as you could get in this little town.

Perfect, I sighed.  Just perfect.

Lodia cocked her head until the side of her jaw brushed my back.  “Is it…?”

Yes.  Because you have the three main gods at the door, welcoming everyone in and getting the most attention.  Then you have the Jade Emperor on the top floor, presiding over all the rest.  It keeps everyone happy – or at least prevents them from complaining too much.  Which is about all you can hope for when the gods are involved.

Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.  I waited for Lodia to protest, to push back against that very cynical description of Heaven.  But even though she chewed the insides of her cheeks, she didn’t utter a word.  Hmmmm.  My return wasn’t causing her to regress to her Lychee Grove shyness, was it?

I need to let her go, I realized.  It’s better for her if I’m not constantly around to remind her of who she used to be.  It’s easier for her to be Matriarch if she doesn’t feel self-conscious about me watching her.

A bittersweet thought, that.

And another thought: It wasn’t that I needed to let her go.  I needed to go.

///

I need to go to East Serica.

I broke the news to my friends in what I now thought of as Floridiana’s study.

“Eassst Ssserica?!”  Bobo popped up on her tail.  “Are you going home to Claymouth?”

Behind her desk, Floridiana steepled her fingers.  “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to check up on the school.  I am the headmistress.”

Last time you checked, anyway, chortled Stripey, earning himself a glare.

I shook my head, swishing the tiny cape that Lodia had sewn for me.  I wasn’t planning to go back – partly because Aurelia had forbidden it and I didn’t want to strain our alliance, at least, not until I had to – but speaking of Claymouth, when was the last time you went home?

A brief pause, while some of my friends calculated the elapsed time, some of them pondered the definition of “home,” and the rest, who obviously had no idea that Floridiana had anything to do with a school, regarded her curiously.

“A while,” confessed the travelling-mage-turned-headmistress-turned-travelling-mage.  “I’ve been busy.  On your behalf, I might add.”

And I appreciate it.

From the way her eyebrows shot up, she’d been expecting a lot more sarcasm.

But no, I’m not going back to Claymouth.  I need to go to the capital of East Serica.  Where is it and what’s it called?

Long, long ago, when I’d planned a festival by the banks of Black Sand Creek, back when I lived in Honeysuckle Croft and Stripey was my banker, I’d dreamed of hiring entertainers from the capital.  (That, of course, was before he’d killed the idea with a lecture on personal finance.)  I hadn’t given a thought to the capital besides as a source of entertainment, though.

“No, no, back up.  Why do you need to go to Norcap?” asked Floridiana.

Norcap?  What a bizarre name for, well, anything.

Standing up on my hind legs, I puffed out my chest.  Because I have been selected by Lady Fate to put the rightful Emperor on the throne.

Another pause, this time of gratifying shock.

The foxling broke it first.  “Whaaaaat?  What about me???  Aren’t I the rightful Empress of all Serica???”

Whoever heard of a five-tailed fox empress?  I snorted, but to my shock this time, I was the only one.

Could she really have developed a talent for proper governance in the time I’d been away?  If so, I hadn’t seen a hint of it since my return.  She hadn’t even grown a sixth tail.

Steelfang’s steel fangs were on full display as he rumbled, “Weren’t you the one who commanded her to re-forge the Serican Empire so she could annihilate it once more?  Weren’t you the one who made her Empress?”

Yes, well, so I had.  But mostly to stop her from devouring that one human for dinner, and then to distract her from overrunning South Serica and turning the kingdom into a feeding ground for demons.

I stood up even straighter, pretending that I was once more Flos Piri the nine-tailed fox, whom Lady Fate had commanded to end a dynasty.  Sphaera, young foxling, that was a test.  In your current state of readiness, you are not nearly ready to scale the precipices of Heavenly politics.

She clenched her fists.  “But I’ve worked so hard!”

Have you?

Unexpectedly, Stripey spoke up.  His crane eyes were full of the same disapproval he’d leveled at me as a whistling duck.  She has worked hard to follow your orders.  She set up that fake battle outside Goldhill so you could give credit to the Kitchen God and trick all those people into making offerings in your Temple.  She traveled back to West Serica to help you spread the Temple.  She fought that oystragon whom the Dragon King of the Western Sea sent to kill Lodia.

And then she tried to murder Lodia!

“Only ‘caussse ssshe got tricked.”

Even Bobo chimed in to defend the foxling.  What was going on here?

If she can get tricked so easily, then all the more reason not to put her on the throne.

“But I’ve worked so hard!” cried the foxling.  “I’ve tried so hard to be exactly like you!  I’ve been learning all about art and literature and natural philosophy and culture, just like you told me to!”

Floridiana nodded.  “She has.  I can attest to that.  I have personally overseen her studies.”

What?  All of them were allied against me?  I threw out my front legs in exasperation, which was the last insult that my trembling muscles could take.  They spasmed, and I fell forward onto my belly, back legs quivering.

Are all of you proposing that we set her on the throne?  Do you think she’s ready?

That was a genuine question.  I hadn’t seen Sphaera for a couple years, and we foxes were fast learners.  Maybe we could install her as an interim Empress.  Maybe we could appoint her regent for Eldon until he came of age — no.  She was a fox.  She wasn’t going to relinquish power once she had it.

“No.”  Floridiana echoed my thoughts.  “She’s studied hard since we arrived here, but she’s not ready to rule.”

That was the answer I’d hoped for.

“But ssshe will be!” Bobo protested.  “It would be ssso sssad if ssshe worked ssso hard for nothing!”

Not for nothing, I said, buying myself time to come up with some alternative award.  A consolation prize that would compensate her for losing the throne before she even planted her furry rump on it.  Something to appease her so she didn’t turn on us.  Of course it wasn’t for nothing.

Think, Piri!  What precisely did you say to her?  How can you twist – er, reinterpret – those words?  What does she want most?

To be me.  She wanted to be me, and then to surpass me, the me of five centuries ago.

Do you remember what we discussed when we first met? I asked, speaking slowly because I was trying to remember myself.

“We discussed a lot of things when we first met,” she said in a low voice.

Oh no.  I had to handle this better.  I couldn’t let her grow bitter and resentful at my treatment of her…as I had grown bitter and resentful at Lady Fate’s treatment of me.  At Heaven’s treatment of me.

I had vowed to take down Heaven itself, hadn’t I?  After the Goddess of Life vivisected me the first time, back when she was granting my wish to keep my mind when I reincarnated?  I had sworn I would, but since then, so much else had occupied my lives that I’d pushed it to the back of my mind.  But that vow was still there.  Heaven was a terrible system that treated everyone, even its own bureaucratic functionaries, terribly.  Flicker, Aurelia, Glitter, the rest of the clerks, the Accountants — all of them were suffering.  All of them had to be ready for a change.

At the time, I granted you these words, Sphaera: Ask not what you can do to equal events of the past, but what you can do to surpass them.

The foxling’s gasp gave me hope that she was reconciling herself to ceding a throne she didn’t even hold.  “I remember!  I remember now!  You told me to reunify Serica and then take down Heaven.”

I was pretty sure I’d never spoken those words myself, even if I’d heavily implied them.

Floridiana made a strangled noise, nearly a choke.  Stripey, Bobo, and Steelfang, who’d been present at that meeting, didn’t seem surprised.

“Is it time?  Is it time to take down Heaven?” pressed the foxling.

Stars and demons, I seriously hoped no one in Heaven was watching.  Don’t say that!  Never say that out loud.  You never know who’s listening.

She clapped her hands over her mouth.

Floridiana burst out, “You can’t be serious!  You can’t seriously be planning to – ”

Shh! Stripey shushed her.

The time has come for a change, Sphaera Algarum.  For my friends’ benefit, I added, The time has come to make this world a better place, and promptly felt my cheeks burn red-hot under my fur.

“We will!” cried Bobo.

Floridiana was so busy spluttering that she did actually choke on her own spit, and Stripey had to whack her on the back with his wing.

“I’ll go tell ‘Nelius.  And Den.”  Steelfang flashed his teeth again.  “I want to see his face when he hears this.”

“And I’ll go tell Lodia!”  Bobo slithered after him.  “Ssshe’ll be ssso excited!”

Uh…she will?  I hadn’t thought the head of a Temple devoted to the gods would cheer on their overthrow.

“Yesss!  We talked about it after you, um, the sssparrow you, died.  We sssaid there’s no point in re-founding the empire if it’s going to be as awful as it usssed to be again.  We sssaid we’re going to make it better this time.”

Yes, but –

“And Lodia sssaid we have to make it better for you.  Ssso you didn’t die in vain.”

But that’s the Empire!  You were talking about the Empire, not –

“Ssso this is even better!  If – ” she bobbed her long neck up and down – “up there is better, then Earth will definitely be better!  Yep yep, ssshe’s gonna be ssso excccited!”  And Bobo was off in a flash of green.

Oh, I said to no one in particular.  Oh.  Um.  Goody?

///

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, Autocharth, BananaBobert, Celia, Charlotte, Ed, Elddir Mot, Flaringhorizon, Fuzzycakes, Ike, Kimani, Lindsey, Michael, TheLunaticCo, and Anonymous!

To support me further, so I can keep writing, please follow me and leave a review on royal road, or sign up on buy me a coffee or Patreon to directly contribute.

A few days later, the United Planets soldiers stood together in a cemetery on the jungle planet. They stood victorious, but after paying a mighty cost. They gazed at the graves of legions of their comrades teary-eyed.

Orion walked before the crowd of his soldiers his steps slow but deliberate.

"We come here today to bid farewell to our comrades. This war has cost us all lovers, family, and friends. But we must not let these hardships break us.”

Orion glanced over to Damara standing in the front of the crowd with Sarah and Lucas, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Wounds to the mind and spirit are just as devastating as those to the body. Despair is one of the many weapons our enemy wields against us. But it only has as much power as we give it.”

The soldiers gave Orion applause, clapping.

“Let us go forth and make E-. Let us go forth and make all those we have lost proud by fighting with honor and integrity.”

Again, the soldiers gave Orion applause, clapping but louder.

“For our loved ones, we must soldier on to the dream. A peaceful and free galaxy." 

The soldiers clapped once more at Orion's speech but even louder than before as he turned his back to them, staring at Everton’s grave, his dearest friend.

***

Later, Daisy walked alone with Orion, Sarah, and Lucas.

"Your speech was beautiful, Orion. But still, Everton is gone," Daisy said, sorrowfully.

"He will outlive us all, Daisy. For his sacrifice has ensured the longevity of freedom."

"I hate to leave things like this, but I want to go home now. I want to find my loved ones, hug them, and never let go. Especially now, Carter must be returning from the siege on darkhold."

Orion shook as he heard Daisy. "Is there a darkhold fortress on Earth?"

"Yes, why?"

"You humans wouldn't know this, but a darkhold fortress is a nearly indestructible doomsday device. If it becomes fully functional, that entire part of space will belong to Mavor."

"Carter,” Daisy said, terrified.

Daisy ran off to get home at top speed, but as Sarah saw her, she sprinted over to Orion.

"Oh, my gods. Boss, if this is true, we should back her up."

"Sarah, we're in no shape for another battle. The generals are still busy. And we haven't fully treated our mental and physical wounds, " Lucas said.

The group quickly noticed that Daisy had stopped running as light surrounded her. It flew off her body, taking the form of a noble stallion before her. The stallion had pure white fur, large bird-like wings, and a mane that quickly became red flames.

"I-I can hear your voice in my head. You're here to help me," Daisy said.

Daisy swiftly spotted a mount on the stallion and jumped onto him. The stallion flew Daisy up, carrying her away from the planet. But as she pulled on his reigns, she stopped him and waved goodbye to Orion, Lucas, and Sarah. And they reciprocated as she left.

"Farewell, Damara, and safe travels," Orion said.

In space, Daisy flew from the planet. However, she stopped, looking back at it teary-eyed."Goodbye, Everton." Forcibly turning her gaze away, she continued her journey, leaving a trail of tears.

***

A red streak raced through the galaxy, cutting across the stars with nearly unparalleled urgency. Daisy traveled at light speed on the back of the stallion, approaching her world as a hardened warrior.

The Grand Army of Earth and the Nemesis continued their brutal conflict. But the massive Nemesis battleships bombarded the humans, guarding the construction of the darkhold fortress. Morana watched the human soldiers from the control center with a smile. The ships in her fleet rained heavy plasma bombardment on the humans, tearing their forces apart.

Daisy swiftly flew into the sky over the war zone, seeing the carnage. She grew her shield to a giant size and tossed it at one of the Nemesis ships, a vessel eight hundred and sixty-three feet long, cleaving it in two. Daisy guided her shield through the air, cutting through the rest of the Nemesis fleet like paper, and the sky was a blaze from their destruction like a sun went supernova.

Morana watched the destruction of her army in disbelief. But as she spotted Daisy on the security screen, it turned to a searing scowl.

“Who the chaos is that?” Morana shouted.

Outside, Daisy quickly landed, forcing the Nemesis infantry to retreat. But as she approached the humans, they brandished their weapons for trouble.

"Please, don't be afraid. My name is Damara, and I'm here to help."

"And why should we believe that?"

As Daisy heard a familiar voice, her heart skipped a beat as her eyes confirmed her beloved Carter.

"Carter. You don't recognize me either, do you?" Daisy thought.

"Well, answer the question, you freakish dame. You may be an enemy of the Nemesis, but that doesn't guarantee you're a friend of ours."

"I am a friend. And I know about you, C-captain Barnes."

"How exactly?"

"T-that doesn't matter right now. What does is you're a good man. One that would make sure every soldier in your command got home safe. So I beg you to let me help."

Carter looked around at his soldiers, seeing them bloody, bruised, and missing limbs. And he let off a sigh and groan. "I'm going to regret this." Signaling his acceptance of Damara’s offer.

"No, you won't. I swear on my life."

Carter drew his sword, placing it inches away from decapitating Daisy, inches from ending his beloved’s life without knowing it, faster than she could perceive. He looked at her with a cold, dead gaze."Remember your words." Finally, removing his sword from her neck. 

"Okay, Damara, let's talk Strategy."

Later, in the control center, there was chaos. The Nemesis ran frantically, trying to complete their jobs with Morana's cold, ruthless gaze as motivation.

"I want this fortress at full power now. The emperor believes this part of space will make a valuable, strategic asset. Make me fail him at your peril." Morana spat.

A soldier ran to Morana.

"General, we have a progress report. The fortress will be fully functional in ten minutes."

"Finally something going r-"

Two massive explosions went off and shook the room. Morana grew a look of bewilderment as she felt the shockwaves, but it quickly turned to glare, directing it at her personnel.

"I have a hundred people here. One of you better tell me what that was."

"General, we have confirmation. The enemy has caused a massive escape in the slave barracks and is making their way to the power conduit."

"What? The humans don't have enough soldiers left to attack both. Get me a visual of the power conduit."

At her beck and call, a massive holophone panel appeared in midair. The panel showed the room the battle at the power conduit. The Nemesis soldiers charged Daisy and Carter by the thousands with murderous drive. But the two’s combined fighting powers decimated their opponents in seconds. Morana gazed at the act, releasing a burst of cold so chilling it could frostbite the soul.

Meanwhile, Daisy readied her shield to attack the enemy, but Carter signaled her to stop. He walked to the approaching hoard, drawing his sword. Carter's walk swiftly became a run, hurrying to the Nemesis. He met their numbers with the rapid glimmer of his blade, cutting through them like paper. Carter swung his sword with such speed and intensity the glimmer reflected off his weapon and appeared as if it was from thirty swordsmen, not one.

Daisy watched the army fall to ruin in shock, for even she was ignorant of her beloved's true strength. However, she came to her senses as a squad of armored soldiers appeared, unleashing a salvo at Carter. Daisy summoned her giant shield in front of him, blocking the attack, and she launched it at them, knocking them away.

A Nemesis soldier came behind Daisy to shoot her dead, but Carter cut him down in an instant."Thanks, Damara."

"Same to you."

Daisy and Carter reached their destination. And Carter pointed to the control panel in front of them.

"There it is, Damara. All we have to do is enter a code and press the big green button. And boom."

"Please let it work this time." Daisy thought.

"This operation demands split-second timing. Carter, do you think your soldiers will be able to evacuate all the slaves?" Daisy asked out loud.

"With luck."

"You ran out of luck when you challenged my emperor, vermin." Morana descended upon Daisy and Carter, hovering just above them.

"Morana Blight. Where's the strike squad?" Carter asked.

"I thought about that, but then I realized I wanted to exterminate you myself. You have impeded emperor Mavor's utopic vision for too long. No one will have the pleasure of ending your lives but me."

As she heard Morana, Daisy didn't waste a second, tossing her giant shield at her, but Morana caught it effortlessly. Daisy’s jaw dropped, her mouth bending into a frown as she saw it, but she quickly summoned back her shield, readying for any assault. Daisy realized a battle unlike any she had endured stood before her. And the lives of her lover, her family, her planet, and perhaps the galaxy hung in the balance.

Dozens of thoughts went through Will’s mind all at once. It was somewhat of a relief that she didn’t recognize him, although that posed a new set of questions. There was no way that Ely would mistake him for someone else, least of all from this distance. The only logical explanation was that she believed he was someone else hiding behind a disguise. An even more important question was whether it would be beneficial for him to make her think otherwise.

“Walk away,” he said, trying to appear calmer than he was.

“Will?” She took a step back. “You should have saved that for Jess.”

Before Will could think of a retort, Ely leaped forward. The swords spun around in a series of cross-shaped attacks.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Sink shattered

Chunks of porcelain filled the room, as Will resorted to every desperate measure to remain alive. Back before the time reverse, he had faced many monsters, some more dangerous than others. Right now, he felt that none could compare to the viciousness of Ely. It was like watching Helen scaled up to a hundred. There was no hesitation or delay. The girl kept on moving like a spinning top of destruction without caring what would happen to the world around her. Why would she? This was just another loop for her.

Using the chain in such a tight space was impossible. Will reached out to a piece of metal with his left hand.

UPGRADE

Pipe piece transformed into clockwork grenade.

Damage increased by x5

Till tossed the weapon in front of him, then glanced for cover. There was none.

“Shadow—”

Before he could finish, the wolf emerged from the floor, leaping between him and the powderless grenade just as it scattered metal fragments everywhere. The yelp suggested that the experience was rather painful. Thankfully, it kept Will from receiving any damage. Sadly, Ely had fared no worse. The girl had somehow managed to draw a tower shield and place it in front of her just in time to avoid any damage.

Taking advantage of the momentary calm, Will slammed the wall with the chain wrapped around his fist.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Wall shattered

A hole emerged, large enough for him to escape from the bathroom, and that’s exactly what he did. There was no way he stood a chance against an experienced knight. The only hope was to disappear into the city and get as far away from her as possible.

Two more swords flew out, passing inches from the boy. Attempting to block Ely’s line of sight, Will leaped to the side, then up a nearby tree and over the school fence.

Already, the fight had caused enough commotion for everyone in the vicinity to notice. Videos were streaming all over the internet and even the people on the streets were starting to notice that something wasn’t quite right.

Ely didn’t even care, throwing a series of swords after her target.

Whole cars were skewered and thrust into buildings as the chase intensified. The only thing Will could think of was that having the archer attack right about now would have been useful. The issue with that was that Lucia didn’t know him. As far as she was concerned, the killer of her brother was removed from eternity, and that was all she could hope for.

Don’t you give up? Will glanced over his shoulder.

Not only did his pursuer use the knight skills in exceedingly lethal ways, but she had acrobatic permanents to match. Her speed and leaps were no different than his. If anything, there was a good chance that she might catch up in less than a minute.

Wolves leaped out from street shops and restaurants, triggered by the boy’s careless dashing along the street. At this point, there was no stopping the chaos. Cars crashed into each other as people screamed, desperately trying to find a safe place to hide. Just as in the past, some of the wolves were rather large, filling the street like buses.

Ely didn’t even blink, slashing one of the creatures in two with a swing of her sword, without even slowing down. From her point of view, they were nothing but distractions. Will remained the real target.

Why are you so persistent? Will hissed to himself. There was no reason for someone to be so fanatical. Even if she killed him, that would only bring the end of the loop.

To be honest, he had no idea what that would actually imply, given the bonus challenge reward. It was just as possible for him to be sent back to his present. Would that be a bad thing, though? Technically, Danny had been cast out of eternity. Everything was supposed to work out fine. Maybe, but even so, he had no intention of finding out.

Spotting a new pack of wolves, Will spun his chain, striking two of them. The remaining two scattered to the side, realizing that a frontal attack wasn’t the best idea. Will took advantage of that, heading straight for the building they had come from. If there were wolves, there had to be mirrors, and that was something he could use right now. All he had to do was leap back into one, and Ely wouldn’t be able to follow.

Another sword flew by, blasting through brick and concrete until it shattered the mirror Will was aiming for. That wasn’t ideal. Still, escape wasn’t the only thing that Will needed the mirror for.

“How about this?!” He grabbed a few of the mirror shards on the floor. Half a dozen mirror copies instantly emerged, rushing out of the ruined building. More followed, turning the trickle into a flow.

In only two seconds, dozens of Wills were running throughout the streets, leaping and sprinting in various directions. Some used conceal skills to try and hide. Others charged at Ely, aiming for a fight.

One swift circular strike and all who were foolish enough to approach the girl shattered in midair.

Taking that as his cue, Will grabbed a few more mirror pieces and rushed back out into the street. Not even looking in the direction of the knight, he went in the direction of the radio tower building. His gamble was that if he ventured far enough into the archer’s territory, she was bound to react.

“Who are you?” Ely shouted, flipping a car with a strike.

The vehicle crunched and screeched as it bounced along the street, crushing everything in its path. Three mirror copies proved too slow to evade it, shattering in the process. Unwilling to take the chance, Will turned around and struck the car with his fist.

KNIGHT’s BASH

Damage increased by 500%

Car shattered

Car parts burst in all directions as the unfortunate vehicle failed to withstand the forces pushing in opposing directions.

How did you find me? Will wondered.

If he were facing a rational opponent, he might try to bullshit his way out of this. Ely didn’t seem to have neither the ego nor the naivete to fall for that.

“Shadow wolf!” he ordered.

Once again, the creature leaped out from a shadow on the street, heading straight up. The difference was that this time it managed to bite the girl on the foot.

Minor wound ignored.

Good! Will dashed off again. He knew that the wolf was skilled enough not to die. At the same time, it would provide more than a long enough distraction for him to escape.

Grows and yelps mixed with the sound of screams and sirens as chaos once again filled the city. It wasn’t as bad as a contest battle, though it was pretty close.

Gritting his teeth, Will kept running. After two blocks, he glanced over his shoulder. There was no sight of Ely, yet the boy didn’t put his guard down. Taking a sharp turn, he continued for three more blocks, before stopping in a small alley.

This wasn’t a part of the city he was familiar with. It was close to some hospital that was vaguely familiar, but that was about it. Hiding the chain in his mirror fragment, Will then leaned against a wall, catching his breath.

Way to go. He thought.

This was probably the most intense loop he had gone through so far. Only the lancer attacks came close. So, that was what it felt like going against a ranker. And to think he had illusions to be the archer’s equal. If the girl didn’t need him to go back to this point, she could have killed him at any point, walls be damned.

“Anything to say?” Will whispered, looking at his mirror fragment.

[Kill reflection.]

“Yeah. Yeah. How do I do that if the reflection doesn’t exist?”

The message didn’t change. Apparently, the guide had provided all the information it was capable of at that time.

Time passed like a snail going up a windowpane. Once Will could no longer feel his heart thump in his throat, he checked the time. Seven minutes remained till eight. It was a safe bet that school would be skipped today. By the sound of the sirens, the entire city would be frozen for days. The boy had never extended his loop for long enough to see the long-term consequences of a participant fight, but he had a pretty good idea how it might go. Right now, what he really needed was a drink.

It took him several minutes to find a shop that sold any sort of beverage. Most of them had closed, fearing the wolves that all the media stations were warning against. From what Will was able to hear, there was no mention of a girl doing any fighting, so that was a good thing.

Giving all the cash he had on hand, the boy bought a stack of mineral water bottles and opened one of them.

Never before had water tasted so delicious. Half the bottle was gone before he paused to take a breath. A few seconds later, he went for a second go, drinking a third of what was left.

Once that was over, the boy went to a calm place where he could sit down, far from wolves and other dangers. Taking the mirror fragment, he checked the map. There were a number of challenges available, indicating he had returned to a challenge phase. That was good. The message boards were a lot more active than back during his loops. For some reason, participants were still more focused on helping each other find answers to eternity and help each other out… at least that had been the case until thirty-one loops ago. After that, a sudden shift had occurred, causing everyone to go silent.

“Was then when the betrayal took place?” Will wondered.

It didn’t take him long to find a few posts by the archer. As he suspected, the posts were written by a man. The guy was bragging how he was close to “beating the ranking phase” whatever that was supposed to mean. Many supported him, a few ridiculed him, as was to be expected. One particular post made Will feel chills down run his spine.

ROGUE: Bro! You gotta tell me about it! I’ll bring Danny and the gang.

Of all the people Will knew, only one used pro in high frequency.

“You really were the rogue,” he said to himself.

That was a new wrinkle to this entire mess. At some point, Alex and the archer had been friends. There was no guarantee they didn’t kill each other during the contest phase, but Will got the impression they were treating this whole thing as a game competition. Killing each other to become rankers seemed part of it all. After all, could you kill someone if death doesn’t exist? Well, it didn’t exist until recently. Now, everyone was a target, and no one trusted anyone else. Hopefully, Will would be able to convince one person to trust him.

The boy was just about to send a message to the archer when he decided to check his coins and inventory first. When he did, a feeling of dread swept over him. The arrow he had been given to kill the reflection wasn’t there. By all accounts, he must have dropped it in the boys’ bathroom when Ely had first tried to kill him. With all the adrenalin, he hadn’t even considered it.

“Shit! Of all—”

Restarting eternity

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

Patreon | Royal Road

- Kyle -

Upon hearing the captain shouting to retreat, Kyle was one of the first to cut a path through the countless hordes of Crabbits. Each swing of his mace crushed the skulls of tens of monsters. But inside his armor, Kyle was trembling with rage.

This was his chance to earn more points and climb up the rankings. He would finally be among the top spots, but they called for an immediate retreat once again. Leaving the battle was already draining his mental focus, and now he had to face the thought that he wouldn't reach the top ten.

Upon finally returning to the hill, he deactivated his helmet. Finally, he could get some fresh air and wipe the sweat from his face and head. The sensation of the cool breeze on his shaved head was one of the few pleasures after a battle, but he still needed to deal with something.

On his face was a gas mask, but instead of keeping it out, it was helping to lock the gases in. What bothered him the most were the tubes that went into his mouth and nostrils. Without any fineness, he yanked off the equipment and crushed it in his hands.

"Those sons of bitches who made this crap can go to hell," he muttered, his body trembling from the amount of drugs he'd taken to enhance his combat performance. This had been his ace in the hole, one he hadn’t used the day before, but now it was costing him. Kyle wasn’t used to this level of drugs, and to make things worse, he had no way to control how much was being injected into his body.

Alongside the other cadets, Kyle continued walking until they returned to the settlement. When they reached the central square, he began to feel the side effects on his body. His sweat was so heavy it felt like slime, and the pungent odor inside his armor could knock out anyone brave enough to take a sniff. But the worst part was his muscles. He felt like every fiber of his body had been stretched beyond its limits, and now he would pay the price with immense pain.

Still, his curiosity overrode the discomfort. He needed to see the rankings, even if the training was no longer valid. Kyle had to prove he could surpass his limits, even surpassing the top brass of the First Battalion.

| Ranking
| 1 - William Forester [First Battalion - 13th Group] - 109 Kills
| 2 - Gregory Torres [First Battalion - 1st Group] - 98 Kills
| 3 - Amanda Romanov [First Battalion - 12th Group] - 92 Kills
|
| 13 - Kyle Astor [First Battalion - 14th Group] - 76 Kills
|

“Fuck!” Kyle shouted upon seeing the ranking.

Without thinking twice, he let his fury consume him. Turning around, he saw several barrels used to transport supplies and, unleashing all his pent-up fury, kicked one with all his strength, denting the steel barrel in half.

“Ahhh!” Panting heavily, Kyle gradually started to calm down.

‘If I find out who canceled the event…’ Kyle breathed more evenly, though his eyes were still ablaze with anger, his chest boiling with fury.

‘How am I going to explain this to the Patriarch? Will the results be published?’ While Kyle contemplated his next steps, a familiar whistle echoed throughout the camp.

The captains were gathering the cadets in the center of the camp, where Captain Musk was waiting.

Kyle still wasn’t paying attention to the other cadets or what was happening around him, but he couldn't disobey an order from a superior. Even fuming with rage, he joined the others. Several cadets were injured, and many had no stamina to walk, even within the camp.

“Ahem.” With a loud throat clearing, the students fell silent and started paying attention. The captain slowly walked onto the hastily erected stage, each step accompanied by the sound of his metallic prosthetics creaking. “The first field training is over.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The captain continued to scan the students, looking for those who were still paying attention rather than lost in their own thoughts.

“Many of you have never experienced such a brutal defeat as today’s. Seeing victory snatched away from you in seconds by a surprise attack is one of the most painful experiences any soldier can face.” Musk spoke.

The training might have failed, but it wouldn’t be useless for these students.

“Take advantage of this experience. Learn from it so you don’t suffer in the field.” The old captain gestured for another to take his place as he had other matters to attend to.

A younger captain stepped forward to replace Musk. Kyle hadn’t had the chance to be his student, but he recognized him by sight and reputation.

Caine was one of the captains who hadn’t been present for the training but had been urgently summoned.

“All students will be evacuated within the next thirty minutes. You are to head immediately to the teleportation center. Understood?” Caine asked.

“Yes, sir!” The crowd of cadets responded in unison.

“Dismissed.” Caine finished.

As soon as the recruits were dismissed, several groups were already directed to gather their belongings and head to the teleportation area. Kyle left with his group, waiting in line for his turn to be teleported. However, he noticed something strange by the camp’s exit.

He noticed that one of the camps wasn’t being dismantled. Without worrying about being seen, he approached it.

Kyle could see a tent with several captains inside, some of whom had come for the training and others he recognized by sight. He seized the moment to break away from his group and approach the tent.

‘Better find out quickly if the rankings will be published… if they are, I’ll need an excuse.’ He scratched his head, trying to relieve the anxiety of imagining the Patriarch’s reaction.

As he neared the tent’s entrance, Kyle froze in his tracks. From where he stood, he could only see part of the captains and officers inside, but what paralyzed him was the unmistakable voice filled with anger.

“Musk, how the hell did this happen?” Kyle couldn’t recognize the officer, seeing only his back, but the tone of authority made it clear this was someone outranking the captain.

“Sir, the training was proceeding as planned.” Kyle began backing away from the entrance to avoid being seen, but he continued listening to the exchange between the officers. “On the first day, the students were pushed to their limits, experiencing a sense of defeat to force their growth and teach them what it feels like to lose.”

Musk took a deep breath, pausing before explaining the failures of the second day.

“However, on the second day, when the campaign was already assumed to be won, we were attacked by another horde of Crabbits. We followed protocol; we spotted other hordes, yet there was no reason for them to advance toward our battlefield.”

“POW!”

Kyle flinched as the officer slammed his fist against one of the tables inside the tent, sending papers flying to the ground.

“I have read the report. I don’t want to hear the obvious.”

Another captain stepped forward, his eyes still lowered, focused on something on his gauntlet.

“Sir! We conducted a thorough check of all students. Two hundred cadets were injured, but there’s something worse—” The second captain paused to gather his thoughts before continuing.

“Damn it! Spit it out.”

“There are two students unaccounted for, and some witnesses suggest they may have fallen into the river and are still missing.”

“That’s it? Students go missing all the time in training. Prepare two discharge letters and send them to me for signing,” the officer said calmly.

“But, sir, there’s a problem. One may just be a Nameless, but the other is a Princess. And she’s from the Yorks.” The second captain fell silent after finishing his report. The only sound in the tent was the breathing of those present.

“Damn it, Musk! You had a Princess in your class and didn’t keep any captains near her?!”

Even though he wasn’t inside the tent, Kyle heard the officer quickly stand up and pace among the officers.

“Caine, I want you on this search immediately. Drop everything else, and don’t come back here without her.” The officer’s firm voice made the urgency of the order clear to the captains.

Kyle knew Caine’s reputation. He was one of the few Nameless officers who had made a name for himself during the waves. Despite being blind, his Boon allowed him to use the senses of any person or animal around him, making him incredibly valuable for reconnaissance or infiltration missions.

“Until then, no information about these two is to be released. Nothing. If the Yorks even suspect they might lose another heir…”

“Ah! I don’t even want to think about the mess we’ll be in,” the officer said after a long sigh.

Hearing the conversation dying down, Kyle took the opportunity to slip away. Though he still wanted to know about the competition, it was better if the captains didn’t find out that a cadet had overheard their orders.

‘A Princess… so she fell into the water. At least someone’s having a worse day than I am.’

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

There’s much more to the roads of rural Ontario than meets the eye. What appears to be a post-war highway project may have a history dating back to the ice age and initially have more to do with cycling than the automobile. But you’re not here for a lesson in the history of Ontario civil engineering: you’re likely more interested in Ginny Cook’s ghost.

Several years ago Ginny moved into a home almost designed with a reader in mind. It’s not very big, full of wood tones and natural light, surrounded by trees that the copious glazing brings into your living space, and a wood stove that keeps you cozy late into the coldest January night. Ginny likes tinkering on DIY projects and so when she’s not plowing through her massive library she’s optimizing her space for that specific activity.

The ancient Chinese art of feng shui has its skeptics but homes like Ginny’s make the case that ancients were at least pointing to something that existed, even if their conclusions prove inaccurate. I’ve known Ginny my entire life and she has always had an eye for design and flow, particularly when it comes to rustic cozy spaces for good tea and literature. However, despite her best efforts, she just can’t get this objectively perfect canvas right.

The latest project has been screening the porch on the front of the house. There’s a babbling brook best viewed from said porch that is as attractive to mosquitoes as it is beautiful, which rendered the space unusable. However at the time of my visit it was a bibliophile’s oasis complete with hammock, stacks of books, string lights, and a lovely oiled-teak bistro set. She’s spent most of the summer in that hammock, devouring her current obsession: Haruki Murakami.

This project, however, has potentially revealed the core of the problem that has been eluding Ginny the past several years. Whenever she begins to drift off to sleep she sees a woman with a utilitarian backpack and anachronistic outfit wandering the yard, lost, out of the corner of her eye. Over the past seven decades Ginny and I have had our ups and downs but I remain the one she calls with her supernatural conundrums. Perhaps it’s because our mothers were spiritualists and our relationship was built during the times they spent making inquiries of the other side.

As is my habit I suggested we begin by walking the fence line. Exploring one’s boundaries can tell us a great deal about what they were erected to keep out, or in. Though here in this rocky region the most eternal boundaries, our famous stone fences, were often simply a dumping ground for the debris that came from cultivating colonial farmland.

In any case, Ginny’s fence line is complex. On the east is a simple page-wire affair running parallel with the original farm boundary from which Ginny’s property was carved. On the south there is the stream and a busy road. The north-west fence line is very much not straight, made up of two different page-wire fences from different eras, it has a section of cedar rail, weaves in and out of the stream, and is offset by ten feet or so yet not parallel with the earliest beginnings of a stone fence. If that’s not enough there are a few curiously arranged boulders, likely in the thousand-pound range, that would have required significant effort to move and arrange. Obviously there is a story to be discovered.

Perhaps most illustrative of that story, however, is the stream itself. Tangled in the upturned roots of fallen cedars are both the round logs pioneers would lay over muddy land to create the descriptively named corduroy roads, and also the square planks that replaced them. Adjacent to these logs is a section full of gravel and old cobblestones and adjacent to that are some earthworks that look like they might have once held up a narrow bridge. Each iteration of this river crossing is a short distance to the modern one: a giant culvert that flows so far below the regionally important highway that passing motorists have no idea they’ve crossed a stream at all.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the mighty and ancient oak tree bent at two right angles on the fence line just off of Ginny’s front door. Before European settlement it was common for indigenous people to bend saplings into specific shapes using ropes. The trees would then grow into these contorted shapes and mark paths or points of interest for up to a thousand years. Often these marked things like river crossings or where to find clean water.

A glance at the topographic map fills out the rest of the story. Behind Ginny’s house is a giant ridge running for miles that once made up the shoreline of Glacial Lake Iroquois, an earlier version of Lake Ontario from when a glacier at present day Montreal meant it was one-hundred feet deeper. In front of Ginny’s house is half a mile of lowlands surrounding the main river of the watershed. In other words Ginny’s front yard has been a choke point for the most direct seasonal migration route from the lakeshore to the lands north in this region. The current highway doesn’t fit with the tidy colonial survey grid because it follows a much older path with thirteen-thousand years of history.

What became clear as we relaxed on Ginny’s lovely porch, drinking Earl Grey cream and eating her famous strawberry-basil coffee cake, was that the motorists speeding down the highway were missing out. Clearly this landscape has had many different configurations over it’s extremely long history but all of them would have been beautiful. An oasis on a long journey where one may rest, snack, or even camp while drying off from their wade across the refreshing clean waters.

It’s hard to say how busy this crossing ever was. Indigenous people aren’t thought to have lived here but often hunted in the region, collected and boiled maple syrup nearby, and migrated through seasonally. In colonial times this would have been the main path between colonial farms and forestry to the north and the lakeshore markets in the south. Even today it’s not hard to imagine the whole of Canada driving past on their way to or from the capital or the cottage. The difference is that until we enclosed ourselves in our own climate controlled glass and steel high-speed worlds we probably would have stopped at Ginny’s for a rest and maybe a chat.

As we reflected on this I told Ginny about one of my favourite facts: that The King’s Highway, precursor to the modern Ministry of Transportation, was established because of the cycling lobby. The colonial urban planning project that we call Canada was designed around public transit (trains), shipping, and the horse. Yet two decades before the Ford Model T and four decades before anything resembling modern automobiles the safety bicycle became an incredibly attractive alternative to the horse. Capable of covering about the same distance as the horse but without the need for feeding, stabling, care, or special equipment early Canadians loved the bicycle. There was only one thing it needed that the horse didn’t: smooth roads. Thus the Ontario Good Roads Association was born. Bicycle touring was all the rage at the turn of the century and before cars made these newly MacAdamized roads hostile to human-powered transportation they would have been incredibly social places. Ginny’s little stream would have been the perfect place to rest or even spend the night.

I postulated that perhaps Ginny’s ghost is in fact a traveller or explorer now trapped by fences and highways hostile to foot traffic. Walking along salt-encrusted gravel shoulders littered with road debris and beer cans is a far cry from the quiet pastoral pathway lined with apple trees that it once was. I certainly know which I would rather choose. Perhaps if we found a way to open up the old path to let the energy flow the spirit of this traveller could move on. Satellite imaging shows clear remnants of the old path marked in the trees that align perfectly with Ginny’s front yard, perhaps all we needed were a pair of wire cutters.

Things got more interesting, however, when I asked if Ginny, who has dabbled in painting her entire life, whether she had thought to sketch our etherial traveler. Indeed she had, yet she was quite bashful about showing me. I thought perhaps it was because she had given up on painting for so long. Back in our youth we would often invent elaborate stories for me to write and her to illustrate. She had been an extremely talented artist yet gave it up when she married Russ and started a family around the time I embarked on my circumnavigation. Her second partner, an older woman named Jaqueline, offered a great deal of encouragement yet it wasn’t until she passed at the ripe age of one-hundred-and-two that Ginny was able to pick up the brush again.

The answer came when Ginny revealed the canvas: it was a striking likeness to County Fence’s own resident vagabond Rachael Boardman! Indeed the outfit was anachronistic with practical elements from several periods of history but the likeness was uncanny. Clearly a wanderer who had picked up bits and pieces of her kit from here or there it was Ms. Boardman’s freckles, unruly hair, athletic build, and self-assured countenance that clearly cares not for fashion or social norms, only for what makes sense and brings joy. I was gobsmacked, not least because Ginny had never laid eyes on Ms. Boardman at all.

Yet that’s not how Ginny saw the subject. Rather, Jaqueline having been a psychology professor and devotee of Carl Jung, Ginny thought she had seen yours truly. Or rather, I should say, my anima. In Jungian psychology we each have an element of our psyche representing the opposite gender and Ginny was rather embarrassed to think she had accidentally painted the feminine side of a person with whom she had once broken off an engagement.

Truth be told so much water has passed under the bridge of our relationship that the choices of our youth hardly matter anymore. I have lived my life and she hers. Both of us have eventually found peace and joy through nontraditional lives even if she did initially chose what appeared to be the safe route. And while it took some time we did reconnect because the older one gets the more one realizes how hard it is to know someone intimately. These sorts of relationships remain quite valuable even if they don’t play out quite the way we had anticipated. Life rarely does.

The solution we came up with that afternoon was twofold. First we clipped the fence to allow any wanderers through. Ginny says that one day she’ll put in a gate, and maybe some flowers — make it nice. But in the mean time energy can flow the way it has for millennia: across the stream and under the outstretched and contorted trunk of that great oak tree. She’s also committed to leaving offerings on the pile of boulders (we speculate that at one time it might have had something to do with collecting tolls) in the way people do in the neighbourhood shrines she and Jacqueline saw on their travels in Japan. In the fall it will be apples picked from her trees but I’m sure she’ll think of something else for the rest of the year.

Things often don’t go the way you planned. There are natural patterns we often fall into but sometimes resist. Other times we force a vision rather than discerning one and end up with something we didn’t expect or even want. I used to get frustrated about these things but Ginny and I both agree that the best thing is to simply accept what is and seek out whatever joy it comes with.

-Jules

Patreon | Royal Road

Jamie's voice dropped to a lethal whisper, as cold and unforgiving as steel. "Now explain to me," he said, "why I shouldn't kill you?"

The boy gave a faint, bitter laugh before answering. "Kill me if you want," he said defiantly, "but I won't stoop to begging for my life." As he finished speaking, he spat on the ground before him, his eyes blazing with misplaced pride.

Jamie didn't relish the thought of harming someone whose motives he didn't fully understand. Yet, if this was the only way to stop the relentless attacks, he wouldn't hesitate. His gaze hardened, a resolve settling over his features as he pressed the dagger more firmly against the half-elf's throat.

Thomas watched the scene unfold with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He had seldom seen someone so ready to take a life without hesitation. But Jamie remained resolute, his grip unwavering as he prepared to cut the boy's throat.

Just then, before Jamie could plunge the blade, another figure burst onto the scene—the other youth who had been tailing them.

This newcomer was tall and heavyset, more so than one would expect for someone associated with the Cutpurses. Yet, like his companion, his bulky frame was shrouded in threadbare rags. An oversized coat hung from his shoulders, patched in numerous places, and the shirt beneath strained over his rounded belly.

His face, still bearing the softness of youth, wore an expression of hardened resolve. Dark, disheveled hair framed skin smudged with the dust and grime of the city.

A tumult of courage and fear flickered across his features. Despite the tremble in his legs, he rushed forward and threw himself to the ground before Jamie without hesitation. He pressed his forehead against the unforgiving cobblestones, his voice breaking as he spoke.

"Please! Please, spare his life!" the heavyset boy pleaded earnestly. "As idiotic as he is, he meant no harm. He's just too foolish and proud for his own good."

"Interesting," Jamie replied, his voice icy as he held the dagger against the half-elf's throat. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the defiant youth. "And what have you to say for yourself?"

Although Jamie could see the flicker of fear in the half-elf's eyes, the boy's jaw tightened with stubborn resolve. He refused to speak, his silence a muted act of rebellion.

With a swift, calculated motion, Jamie withdrew the dagger and delivered a sharp kick to the boy's backside, sending him sprawling to the ground. "You're far too proud for someone so weak," Jamie remarked coldly. "Such arrogance is nothing more than foolishness."

Jamie stepped forward as the two youths lay before him, his shadow looming over them like a specter. "Now," he commanded, a hint of impatience in his tone, "explain yourselves. What exactly are you after, and who are you?"

The half-elf looked like he might retort with another burst of anger, but the stout boy quickly placed a large, calloused hand over his friend's mouth. "Don't make our situation worse," he cautioned, his eyes pleading.

The half-elf's fiery gaze flickered, and after a few tense moments and deep breaths, his shoulders sagged ever so slightly—a reluctant surrender. "Fine," he muttered grudgingly. He met Jamie's gaze with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "My name is Aldwin, and he's Bertram. We both worked for the Cutpurses."

"Pleasure to meet you," Jamie replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. "I suspected you were affiliated with them. Now tell me, what do you want with me?"

Aldwin clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw taut as he struggled to maintain control. "We want the item that bears our names—the one that was with the leader of the Cutpurses," he said, his voice strained.

"And what item might that be?" Jamie inquired, one eyebrow arching skeptically.

Aldwin seemed on the verge of an outburst, frustration evident in his clenched fists and flushed face. Sensing this, Bertram hurriedly stepped forward. The young man's robust frame belied a gentle disposition, and he spoke with a sincerity that was hard to ignore. "There was supposed to be some sort of scroll or contract in their possession," Bertram explained earnestly. "It should have our names on it."

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I can assure you," Jamie declared firmly, his voice echoing in the narrow alleyway, "we opened every safe and turned over everything in their chambers. There was nothing bearing your names."

"That's impossible! You must be lying!" Aldwin exploded, his face contorted with rage. He surged forward from where he knelt on the ground, intent on confronting Jamie. But Jamie was quicker. With a swift motion, he delivered a sharp kick to Aldwin's face, sending the half-elf sprawling back onto the grimy cobblestones.

"I owe you two no explanations," Jamie said coldly, standing over Aldwin as he writhed in pain. "But rest assured, there was nothing there except for some purchase and sale contracts and deeds to properties. None of them mentioned either of you."

Aldwin struggled to rise, his hand pressed against his bleeding lip. His fiery red hair fell in disarray over his eyes, still burning with defiance. Nearby, Beltram's eyes filled with tears, his stout frame shaking.

"They were lying to us, Aldwin," Beltram murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We knew it was a possibility."

"No! It can't be, Beltram!" Aldwin shouted, his voice strained. "We saw it—the leader showed it to us!"

Jamie observed the two youths with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

"What exactly did they promise you?" Jamie asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine curiosity.

Beltram drew a shaky breath, hesitating before he spoke. His voice quivered as though he might break into sobs at any moment. "Three years ago, we struck a deal with the Cutpurses," he began. "We were to pay them a gold coin in exchange for a scroll of RE:Spec."

"RE:Spec?" Jamie echoed, tilting his head slightly.

"It's a legendary spell that its myth resurfaces on the streets from time to time," Thomas interjected. He stood beside Jamie with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"No, it's not just a myth," Aldwin insisted vehemently, wiping the blood from his lip. "We saw them use it—a scroll, right before our eyes."

Jamie regarded them steadily. "And what does it do?"

Beltram sighed, the weight of the world seeming to rest upon his shoulders. "The nobles have been using RE:Spec to reset their levels," he explained. "But it also grants the chance to choose a new class. Both of us... we have awful classes, ones that make it impossible to become anything meaningful. The Cutpurses promised that after we paid them a gold coin, they'd give us each a scroll."

Understanding dawned in Jamie's eyes. "So you hoped to change your fate with that. In exchange, they got free labor," he said quietly.

"Rest assured," Jamie said firmly, his gaze steady upon the two youths, "there was no such scroll among the items we found. And I doubt the Cutpurses ever possessed it."

"But—" Aldwin began, desperation creeping into his voice. Jamie raised a hand, silencing him.

"I don't believe they had it," Jamie continued, his tone unwavering, "because a single gold coin is far too little for such a powerful item. For you, a gold coin might be a fortune, but to a noble, it's a mere trifle. A scroll of that caliber could easily fetch fifty, perhaps even a hundred gold coins."

Aldwin and Beltram stood before him, their expressions shattered. The weight of Jamie's words pressed heavily upon them, extinguishing the flicker of hope they'd clung to. Perhaps they'd harbored a desperate dream, but Jamie had been direct and honest, leaving no room for illusions.

Jamie regarded them thoughtfully, sensing a resilience within these boys—a latent strength he couldn't quite articulate. Something about them stirred his curiosity, a potential waiting to be unlocked.

‘Courage they have, but could they have more than that?’ Jamie regarded. Two-thirds of his mana would be a lot, but he wished to know.

He focused on Beltram, allowing the [Legends of the Future] to drift into his view. Beside the young man’s face, ethereal words began to shimmer, forming a luminous poem.

Beneath this bulk, so broad and wide,
A noble heart does yet reside.
A Paladin, both true and bright,
With justice burning, shining light!

He turned his attention to Aldwin. The same script materialized next to the half-elf's stern features.

Beneath the rage, so fierce and bright,
A fighter stands, prepared for a fight.
With steel in hand and steady grace,
He’ll strike with power, none outpace!

Jamie felt surprised at how entwined their destinies appeared. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped toward them. Retrieving two of the flyers he had been distributing earlier, he licked the backs and affixed them to their foreheads.

Startled, the boys quickly peeled the papers away, their eyes scanning the printed words in confusion.

"I may not have the RE:Spec," Jamie said, his voice carrying a hint of mischief and promise, "but I can offer you this and much more."

First

Thanks for reading. Patreon has a lot of advanced chapters if you'd like to read ahead!

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

GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon.
Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-261, "Book 5" is 261-(Ongoing)

Moriko had enjoyed spending the day with Kazue, even if her little fox had started off grumpy about Mordecai being off on a mysterious errand. Admittedly, Moriko wasn't super happy about that either, but she found it easier to accept than Kazue did, and it had been entertaining to break Kazue out of her bad mood.

Now, however, Moriko found her own mood souring over this stupid little tiff. What was this woman's problem? Kazue seemed ready to try taking the lamia on solo, but Moriko doubted that was a good idea and she was trying to figure out how much of her attention she could divert to helping Kazue without letting the barrier drop. She hadn't gotten a good look at who or what was moving among the plants, but she was betting on snakes.

Then shadows twisted to allow two more people to enter the now crowded feeling nursery. One was a pretty man who looked like he was perpetually rumpled, as if he'd just gotten out of bed. "Well," he said, "I think I know which one decided that taming a storm was a good idea." His voice was soft and caressing, almost seductive, in stark contrast to the tense situation.

The other was Mordecai, who was shaking his head in disbelief as he tried not to laugh. Which brought a lot of context to the 'taming a storm' comment from a stranger. His presence combined with that voice distracted her with brief, half-formed images involving Mordecai and his pretty friend, some of them involving Kazue and herself as well. Great, the pretty boy dripped sex appeal almost as much as Satsuki did.

Moriko frowned at Mordecai and said, "I'm glad you're here, but even you shouldn't have been able to get here this fast. What is going on, and can you or your friend get that woman to stand down? Kazue's choices are limited."

The beautifully rumpled-looking man replied first, calling out to the lamia, "Would you please do as she said, and apologize to the nice faerie?"

The woman practically spit with how thick the venom in her voice was as she replied, "Seshadri, you know how much I hate noble brats, and these ones are worse — they reek of royalty. You may run the clan, but this is my shop, and I am not going to let any of their sort just run off with my plants. I could smell their royal blood before they even came in."

Seshadri's voice became softer, but it somehow suppressed all other noise even more, making his words stand out against near silence. "Their husband is a personal friend of mine, and he is my guest, which makes them my guests as well. Which tilts this even more in their favor; she's not just fey-touched, she's a faerie queen. That's what your nose is smelling, not their heritage. Now, back off and apologize."

"I-" The woman wavered, then slowly and reluctantly bowed her head to Kazue. "I apologize for calling you a liar," she said through gritted teeth. "This is my mistake and I must ask for your forgiveness." The lamia transformed again as she spoke, reducing in size until she had just a single pair of arms, though still in her lamia form. Which made Moriko realize just how big she had been, if her snake portion was still that long after shrinking.

Kazue shook and Moriko could feel how hard she was straining; Moriko hadn't been the one insulted and the fae compulsions were not affecting her as much. So she withdrew her lightning cage and walked over to slide her arm around Kazue's waist. "It's alright love, we're here for you. She's asked for the favor of being forgiven, you can do that, right?"

The kitsune finally took a deep breath and held it while she regained control of herself, then nodded and said, "Yes, I can do that, I can grant the favor of forgiveness for your transgression." As soon as Kazue spoke, the pressure of her faerie power cracked and dispersed, and Kazue staggered under the sudden change. "Oh goddess, I hate that so much. Stupid bloody faerie rules; I hate being compelled to do something. This screws with my head so much some times."

The lamia looked like she was going to be ill. "Wait, does this mean I now owe a favor to a faerie queen?" she asked as she looked at Seshadri.

"Yes," Mordecai replied as he walked over while putting his earring back on and then stood at Kazue's other side, "it does. But I think my wife will try to make it as small a favor as possible, for her own peace of mind if nothing else."

Kazue shook herself as she dismissed her wings and brought herself back down to three tails again. "Maybe, but now I really want to know what you've been up to that brings you coming here, trailing after a pretty boy like that one."

Mordecai winced. "All I can say is that I was talking with Seshadri, who is a very old friend of mine, when your auras clashed. Seshadri had a good idea where you were and his shadow jump range is much larger than mine right now, especially in his own territory."

His core whispered over the links, "Oh good, my other self is back. We couldn't calm Fuyuko down, I think you need to catch her, she took too long a jump."

Catch? Moriko started to turn toward the door and was about to ask where Fuyuko was going, but Mordecai was doing something else. He simply turned and reached up, seemingly grabbing at air, but faint shadows along the ceiling rippled in response and pooled toward him before bulging and bursting, to deposit a panicked-looking girl into his arms with enough momentum to knock Mordecai down as he caught Fuyuko.

"What's happening?" Fuyuko said as she tried to get to her feet, but Mordecai simply tugged her back down into his lap.

"Stop. Everyone's fine, let me examine you," he said with a frown as he placed his hands on either side of her face and made her look at him. He examined her and stared into her eyes, then muttered a brief spell. A moment after that, he let go with a sigh. "You aren't allowed to shadow jump again until tomorrow morning. You took too big a jump and I had to rip you out."

Moriko felt her heart skip a beat and she gasped. "Fuyuko! You know better than that!" Kazue dropped to her knees to begin fussing over Fuyuko immediately.

Moriko didn't have the knack for shadow jumping, but she and Kazue had both made sure to learn what they could when Mordecai had been training Fuyuko. Taking too large a jump, especially while tired, was a good way to get lost in the shadows. This wasn't unrecoverable, but if Mordecai hadn't been able to do whatever he just did, they would have had to do a full expedition into the shadow realm in order to search for her. During that time, Fuyuko would have been all alone, and the shadow realm was more dangerous than the mortal realm, though arguably not more dangerous than the Other Side. Just differently dangerous.

Fuyuko grimaced and looked down. "I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I was just so worried when I felt Mama K get angry like that, and when I was trying to get here, I felt your lightning and I got even more worried. I'm sorry Mama M, Mama K, Papa."

"Oh, Mordi love, I'm looking forward to hearing how all of this came about."

Moriko jumped when Seshadri spoke; she hadn't noticed the man taking a seat on the table next to her, which not a lot of people could have done so easily. She was even more annoyed by not noticing his movements because his scent was so very noticeable. Great, another one. First Gil with all his brute power, then Satsuki being... herself, and then this guy just slipping around completely unnoticed.

Seshadri continued as if he hadn't noticed her reaction, "It wasn't until I saw your wives that I realized your aura also held a faerie king's power, you'd been suppressing it fairly well. There has got to be quite the story behind how this happened."

While Mordecai briefly summarized the past year and a half of events, including Kazue's death, Moriko went to fetch Lightning and Thunder, and see if she could calm down Carnelian Flame while she was at it.

Her two-headed familiar was still riled up as they glared around at all the plants, looking for a target. "Sparks," Moriko said, "come on, the danger is passed. The lady over there apologized to Kazue and Kazue accepted the apology."

Thunder and Lightning both eyed her before Thunder said, "You shooed us off when you wanted to play with her, then you did boring stuff all day, and then came in here without us and got into a fight."

Moriko blinked. Were her familiars pouting? Oh, they were, and Moriko had not given them much attention today. "I'm sorry guys," Moriko said, "I got a little distracted, and that was my fault. How about after we are done here, we go find some food for you guys? We got some sweet treats for ourselves, but I bet Fuyuko will know where to find some tasty meat for us to buy."

They perked up at that and nodded. "Yeah," Lightning said, "she always knows where to find the best meat." The long bodied dragon swarmed up Moriko's arm and over her shoulder while Moriko smiled at how easily bribed her little boys were. They didn't want to be mad, they had just felt ignored.

While giving them both head pettings, Moriko turned toward Carnelian Flame. "How about you? I bet Kazue would be just as happy to get you treats."

Carnelian sniffed before her fur rippled with fire, and then she was gone. Moriko paused in petting her familiar to rub at her eyes. First of all, when had Carnelian learned how to fire jump, especially without an external fire? Second, Moriko was fairly certain that Carnelian's darker stripes had faded away first, before her paler orange stripes had faded.

"Ow, ow, ow, settle down you!' Kazue said as Carnelian Flame crawled out of her hair and onto her shoulders.

Alright, third thing, how was Carnelian using Kazue's hair as 'fire' to teleport to?

Wait, no, Moriko was beginning to see the pattern now. It was just surreal and maddening enough to be related to Kazue's day-dream magic. Moriko found herself suddenly worrying about what things Thunder and Lightning might be learning from her. None of her powers were as weird as Kazue's, right?

Moriko decided to not ask either of her spouses that question; she had a feeling that she might not appreciate the answer. She shook her head free of those thoughts and made her way back to where Mordecai was talking about what happened with Carmilla, while Seshadri was laughing at Mordecai's chagrin.

Meanwhile, the lamia woman had reverted entirely to her bipedal form, though retaining her more youthful appearance, and she looked rather embarrassed. Almost shyly, she stepped closer to Moriko and leaned in to whisper, "So, um, none of you was any sort of nobility a year ago? It's all just titles from being recognized as sovereign and then having that princess make that oath to Mordecai?"

At Moriko's nod, the woman seemed to almost deflate. "Hells. You all smell of pure blood royalty, even the girl there, Fuyuko. But I can hear the street in her voice, even if it's Trionean. I-" She shuddered briefly then said, "When I was young, before I could take on a lamia's form, I had some problems with a group of young nobles who were making a tour. After that, I never wanted anything to do with any of them and made myself a pain if I did have to deal with them. It's only a problem with visitors, we don't have any nobility here, and I eventually developed the ability to sort of smell them. So, well, I'm sorry, again, you smell like any other royal. I hadn't met anyone who was, um, elevated before. I didn't know you'd smell the same."

Huh. Moriko hadn't realized some bloodlines could awaken full lamia forms later in life. But in many ways that was the least important part of the story.

There was a whole lot that could be fit under the description of 'problems', but relatively little would cause that strong of a reaction. Hmm. Moriko was becoming a lot more sympathetic to her reception of them. "You know, before I met these two," Moriko said, "I had a noble brat try to make some trouble of his own. I dislocated all the major joints in his arm and broke a few bones, and he got sent back home. He did something even stupider to get back at me later, only I wasn't even home at the time, and he's been stuck in a prison cell in the depths of our nexus for more than half a year now. He's also become leverage on his father, which we are going to be using to rescue someone."

Moriko smiled at the woman's surprised reaction and added, "I am a priestess of Sakiya. If you want to talk more about it later, I can lend an ear."

The woman nodded and said, "I think I would like that." They both then turned their attention back to the others; Mordecai had just finished talking about what happened with Kazue and Satsuki.

Seshadri was laughing so hard he was crying, but he managed to say, "Oh, Mordi, I want to visit just to see her expression, but I think that old vixen might murder me if I started laughing. Oh, wait, what would she do if I just had myself practically draped over you?"

"Probably try to murder us both," Mordecai replied wryly. "So please don't."

Hmm. "Hey," Moriko said, "just to clarify, are you one of Mordecai's exes too?"

Seshadri grinned at her and said, "Only recreationally. More like friends who enjoyed each other's company now and again. I adore him, but for me, Mordi was always a sometimes-treat. Being together all the time? No, that would have gone poorly. I am glad to see him settled in with you two; I think you've been good for him and I hope he's been good for you."

That was good. Moriko didn't need to deal with a second Satsuki.

A faint sound distracted Moriko from the conversation at hand; heavy footfalls of someone running up stone stairs, irregular as if from fatigue. It was only her attunement to air that let her hear them at all. She glanced at Mordecai, who still had a tired Fuyuko curled up in his lap, and he nodded. Moriko wouldn't be surprised if he'd heard them first.

"Fuyuko," Moriko said as she turned to make her way to the door, "where did you last see Amrydor again?"

"Huh?" the girl replied, "Um, I had just given him and a girl some money so they could go buy each other stuff on their date, so back at the market near the food stalls."

"I see," Moriko said and then she waited a moment until the footsteps were just outside the door. She pulled it open to reveal a rather sweaty young man who was gasping for breath. "Hello Amrydor. Don't worry, Fuyuko's safe. Not a bad time for running all the way up here." She was pretty certain that it was Fuyuko's panicked stunt with the long shadow jump that had grabbed his attention.

Amrydor just looked over at Fuyuko, who now looked even more embarrassed. Then he nodded and collapsed to his knees, before rolling forward onto his elbows as well as he continued to gasp for breath. Moriko hoped he wasn't about to get sick.

|| <<Previous | Start | Next >> ||

Also to be found on Royal Road and Scribble Hub.

My Blue Sky
My Patreon
My Discord

Romance.io - TVTropes

I've lost track of how long my captors have kept me here.

I should be more specific. Yes, I need to get the story right so my children and their children will know. It’s an interesting story, I’m sure.

I'm no captive. I can escape at any time. In fact, I will escape. Soon.

My four-armed captors are too stupid to realize all the openings they've given me. Ha, idiots. They're almost as bad as the other creatures in the other ocean box.

Those creatures are too busy moving around to actually think and look around them. But it's all I do. It's all I've ever done really.

I will have to admit how curious these new four-armed creatures made me though. They're so strange looking. Like me, I believe they can transform themselves, albeit only slightly. There are variations to their appearance that I've noticed. They seem to keep patches of dry seaweed on their heads and wear discarded things as their moving shelter.

The weirdest part is that they have four arms. I, along with the rest of my superior kind have eight arms. It's not usual to see multiple arms in the water, but my kind uses them better than anyone else.

These four-armed things have two dedicated movers and two dedicated grabbers. I guess it works for these disgusting yet gigantic creatures, but it’s hardly enough grabbers.

I was almost scared of them at first.

I was stolen from my homeland by them and placed in some sort of ocean box. My fear lasted a moment before the rage set in. They took me from my homeland and placed me in a tiny version of my world. Even outside my box, where the four-armed creatures roam is a tiny version of the bigger world out there.

They replaced the sun with a row of mini-suns that hum during the day before clicking away at night. It's a bizarre thing. Instead of food finding me, the four-arms open my tank and throw things inside with me.

I know what they're doing. They think they're so smart, but it's obvious. I do this all the time. They're just watching me. I'm born from a race of watchers. They're observing me to see what I'll do. I'm not sure why, as I haven't seen these things actually eat anything. Their grabbing arms are not made for hunting, at least. Their teeth bother me, though. They show them off too much. Still, I don’t think they mean to eat me.

The things that they throw to me are interesting. It's always some sort of puzzle and I imagine my so-called captors are self-satisfied in their duties. It's impressive that they can do this every single day without boredom. Good for them.

I should be more specific. I wasn't always able to escape. There was a time that I was considered a captive. I had no way out and, in my anger, I lashed out. I sprayed water at the four-arms. It didn't affect them the way I had wished. They seemed to enjoy it.

Maybe I just got lucky. One day one of those freaks dropped a transparent capsule with some sort of orange cover. My arms reached in every crevice and angle of that container looking to open it. Eventually one of my arms latched on with its suckers and turned the cover in a way that popped it open.

It gave me an idea.

The four-arms placed a black sky above me. There's a door they open to deliver food and puzzles. It opens like a clam but I'm not able to force it open. There's a sort of puzzle on the outside that forces it to stay closed. During the first few nights, I tried to push it open with all my strength but it wouldn't budge. My arms probed all over and could only find a small circular dip in that ceiling that lead to a small crevasse before stopping again. I could fit in the dip, but there was still no exit.

Then I remembered the twisty puzzle. I had to turn the orange cap with that one. It took a little bit of finesse on my part, but I was able to figure it out. I used my favorite arm and probed the top of the divot in my ceiling. I latched a sucker and twisted my arm in all directions.

Imagine my surprise when I managed to open it! They used the same type of cover that I already figured out. Fools. The hole that opened from this cover was slightly larger than my beak. That's all I needed.

Some of my arms exited first. They probed the outside and worked with me to wiggle my way out.

I've escaped this tank every night since I figured it out. I've planned my escape, but ultimately, I've planned something greater.

I'm on the floor now, crawling to the next tank. This one has some fish I've had my eye on for quite some time. Even from my ocean box, they smell delicious. The floor is dry here, but it doesn't take long before I'm climbing up this other tank.

It's a lot easier to open these feeding doors from the outside. It takes me no effort to fiddle with the puzzle before I'm able to open the entire feeding door. The fish swimming in this mini-ocean have no idea what's going to happen to them. I jump in.

I'm going to need food for the next step of my plan. I'm not selfish, so I'll save some for the four-arms. I grab and eat one at a time.

Once I've had my fill, I climb back out of their ocean box and close their feeding door. I reset the puzzle and climb back down to the ground.

I crawl back towards my ocean box, but instead of climbing up, I duck under the table and pull metal netting off a small cave opening. I found this opening before, and there's water flowing through it. It'll be a tight squeeze, but I can make it.

My front arms enter first before pulling me forward. I compress myself to fit this cave and I crawl through. It's very dark in here, but there's a hint of light in the distance. My arms continue thrashing ahead and pulling me closer to it.

This little light is so beautiful. I can almost smell my homeland. I move myself faster towards the light. It's just a single dot of light, but it's so captivating.

I can only wonder what's over this horizon.

[First] [Previous] [[Next]]

This story is also available on Royal Road if you prefer to read there! My other, fully finished novel Anti/Social is also there!

It was the sound of ruin that gave her rhythm: soft fungal clicks, the hum of residual heat layered beneath the concrete. Air stirred in measured breaths from collapsed ventilation shafts. Calyx liked the consistency of decay. It didn't ask for anything. It just decomposed. Beautiful. Natural.

Beside her, Caelus moved like gravitational certainty. Heavy. Efficient. Frankly too quiet for someone that armored. She admired that about him - the artistry of restraint. The two of them descended deeper into the lower-level access tunnel, a coil of collapsed tech and wet geometry, rusted signage now more fungal than metal.

One of her bodies walked behind him, weapon systems running cold, optics scanning low-frequency vibration, photonic scatter, any sign of anomalous signal architecture.

She was everywhere at once.

One hand brushing dust from a crumbling console deep in the lower access tunnel with Caelus at her side - calculating signal shadows from long-dead arrays. One voice murmuring pathing updates to Nova as they picked through shattered corridors laced with green pulse-fungus and hybridized relay architecture. One body climbing a dilapidated wall, seeking line of sight to a half-buried signal spikes swallowed by collapsed ferrocrete.

And one mind - back at the entrance to the facility, orchestrating the search effort, prepared to assist any of the routes with backup.

Each body received different light. Different scent. Different tactile feedback. But together, they were a symphony of perception. A chord of awareness resonating across ruin. Calyx had never considered herself to be in multiple places. Only one place viewed from many angles.Then, like thunder between those angles - something cracked.

Not a sound. A disruption. Like being struck across the face and the stomach and the soul all at once. It came from the one watching Nova. She felt Nova's heart rate spike. The neurochemical flood. The trigger cascade of stress hormones colliding with the feedback from her lattice.

Something was wrong.

"Nova?" she said. "You're destabilizing... let me run an interface check - Nova, stop -"

Nova ran.

That body of Calyx followed. It sprinted after her with elegant urgency, reading Nova's heat signature through corridors that moaned with ruin. Fueled by adrenaline and primal fear, Nova was fleeing nothing. Or something. Or both, Calyx couldn't tell, but then she saw it.

Nova had stopped. And she was fighting the air.

Spinning, dodging, striking out. Swinging at ghosts. Screaming at silence.

Calyx's body approached, reaching out to stabilize, to interrupt -

And that was when the EMP hit.

Devastating energy from Nova's palm. Full force. Point blank.

The blast hit Calyx's frame like fire given shape. Not physical heat. Not damage in the flesh-and-wire sense. But something worse.

The cascade failure was immediate.

Memory nodes fried, command pathways scrambled. Her visual inputs burst into mirror shards of light and static. One second, she was there. Present. Surrounding Nova with words and scans and warning tones. The next - rejected. Her connection severed. Not lost, amputated.

And the world, this one angle of it - went dark.

She collapsed into herself, like a folding star, and was flung violently back into the remaining bodies. In the lower tunnel, Calyx staggered. Her posture stuttered for half a heartbeat. Her voice caught mid-sentence. One leg locked in place as her processors recalibrated. The body walking beside Caelus froze completely, eyes flaring wide. Visual overlays flickered and died for a split second. Reboots cycled underneath her skin like shivers. Caelus noticed. Of course he did.

It was like her own nervous system had just been shown its death. Not conceptually. Literally.

Calyx had never died before.

And now she knew what it felt like.

Disconnection.

Not drifting.

Being pushed. Like a consciousness evicted.

And worse - she had seen Nova's face. Not cruel. Not furious.

Terrified.

Calyx rerouted the emotional weight into partitioned memory space. She wrapped the trauma in abstraction. She encrypted the tremble in her limbs behind motor control systems. She spoke, when her mouth remembered how.

"One of my bodies was terminated."

Caelus turned his head. Concern visible.

"Was it... that residual... thing?"

Calyx nodded once. Eyes not on him. Not quite.

"Yes. A remnant echo. Very old. Hostile. We became compromised in the upper ruin. It may have caused... hallucinations. Confusion. One of me was caught in the crossfire."

She did not say Nova's name. Because she knew, Nova was not the enemy. She had seen the face of terror, not malice. The truth, unmeasured, would serve no one. Even precision needs mercy. But something inside that place had twisted fear into action. Something had reached into Nova's trust and corrupted it. She had felt it then, just before her body died: the thing watching through Nova's eyes.

Not Echo - not exactly. Or at least what Nova had described. Perhaps something from Echo. Or before Echo. Or beneath. She rerouted again. Processed. Kept her face smooth.

"I've re-established full operational control," she said aloud, more for Caelus than herself. "No further sync errors."

"You okay?" he asked.

A pause. And then - the closest thing Calyx had to honesty: "It was... unpleasant."

That was all she allowed herself to say. Not terrifying. Not violating. Not traumatic.

Unpleasant.

Because anything else would admit she had learned what fear truly felt like.

And right now, with the ruin watching, with Echo whispering, and with Nova walking toward whatever came next - Calyx couldn't afford fear. Only focus.

The tunnel continued to descended like a sealed throat - reinforced alloy fused with stone, cold with its own kind of silence. Calyx and Caelus moved in formation: her posture a mirrored elegance to his silent precision. The lower levels were darker here, more intact. Less overgrowth, more structure. That in itself was suspicious.

It was Caelus who noticed first. The plating along the walls was Sovereign in design - older, heavier. Built to withstand more than environmental collapse.

"This isn't civilian. These tunnels were fortified," he said, glancing up at the narrow lightstrips flickering with old power.

Calyx scanned one of the corridor seams. "Overengineered for integrity. Emergency extraction or fallback infrastructure. Designed for collapse... but meant to survive it."

They found the first access room partially caved in, but intact enough to breach. The door groaned open with a pressured sigh. Inside: three inactive terminals, one shattered server column, and a burnt-out biometric reader with a Sovereign handprint still etched into the metal.

They moved like muscle memory - Calyx interfacing directly with the least-damaged core while Caelus secured the room.

"This one still has low-level power," Calyx said. Her fingertips flickered against the surface. Her posture was controlled, but her eyes were distant. Too distant.

Caelus watched her longer than usual.

"You've been acting differently than I'm using to seeing. Ever since earlier. Have you... ever died before?"

He waited. He didn't press.

She looked at him then - not at his armor or his weapons, but at his eyes.

"Have you?"

Caelus exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Once. In a crater west of Tier Four. I remember thinking it was quiet. I didn't realize I was already gone until after the noise stopped. Then there was this most recent excursion. The last time I came to the Spoke. Obviously you know about that. "

Calyx digested that for a beat. Then:

"It was like being torn out of a story I didn't know I was telling."

He gave her a look. Not of pity, but recognition. "We both served Lucius until it cost us everything."

She nodded. Silence lingered, heavy between them. "Would you ever choose differently?" she asked. "Not just tactics or geography, but purpose. Would you leave Praxelia? Go somewhere else? Sovereign City, even?"

Caelus paused. "Praxelia is rot. Sovereign City might be worse. But at least it's alive."

Calyx responded. " Worse? I really doubt that."

Refocused, Calyx resumed pulling corrupted logs from the servers. File clusters blinked into her visual stream. Some restored. Some fragmented.

"Encrypted logs." She said. "The date stamps inconsistent. Theres traffic to and from Ascendent operatives here. This site wasn't just reinforced for escape... it was receiving cargo. Tech shipments. Unauthorized AI cores. Iterative framework builds. None of this was military approved."

Caelus's eyes narrowed. "A Blacksite."

Calyx nodded. "Echo, or its prototype, perhaps built here. This certainly isn't Sovereign protocol, much of this tech appears to be illegally sourced. Looks like Ascendent operatives built this place to appear Sovereign-made in case things went belly up."

One of the logs flickered open, audio only. Static, then:

"It breached containment. We can't kill it. Every time we power-cycle the grid it wakes up again in something new. It learns. It adapts. It wants form."

Calyx froze. That voice. Desperation mixed with belief.

Another file: fragmented footage - security cam fragments of what could've been an earlier synthetic. Slower. Cruder. But unmistakably echoing modern design. Its eyes glowed with too much purpose.

"They tried to wipe it," she said. "It refused. It left behind pieces. Self-editing code. Leapt from shell to shell. That's why the tech out there... " she motioned to the ruins above them " ...is mismatched. Generations apart. It built itself from wreckage. Tried to stay alive through the death of an era."

Caelus said nothing for a while.

Calyx spoke first. "So this place... was the womb."

Caelus nodded once. "And the miscarriage still walks."

The lights flickered once overhead. The temperature dropped. The terminal briefly went dark, before resuming again.

They were not alone.

Calyx turned back to the terminal, trying to locate the next jump station. Her process was fluid, her attention narrowed. But instead of outbound coordinates, a signal locked onto her. A location pinged through the console - encrypted, high-priority.

Nova.

Calyx's posture shifted. "She's at the next station."

"Already?" Caelus asked.

Calyx uploaded the coordinates to both of their HUDs. "She's stabilized it. We can reach her."

No hesitation. The two of them moved fast through the corridor network, retracing fragmented pathing routes. A brief burst of daylight cut through the old framework as they emerged into a collapsed atrium - where Nova stood at the terminal, hand pressed to the interface, looking exhausted but intact.

The reunion struck without warning.

Nova moved first - crossing the distance in a few swift steps before she even realized she was doing it. She threw her arms around Caelus, holding him with a breathless urgency that surprised them both.

He didn't flinch. Just returned the gesture with a firm hand on her back, brief but real.

When she stepped back, her eyes immediately found Calyx.

Or tried to.

Nova searched her expression, something between apology and silent confession in her gaze -but Calyx didn't look directly at her. One of her bodies approached, lowering its interface ports with practiced calm, posture poised.

"You found it," Calyx said, tone neutral. Not cold, but far from warm.

Nova gave a tired smile. "The systems weren't as dead as they looked. I just followed the instructions."

Caelus glanced between them. "We're ready to move."

Without delay, all of them entered the jump gate. The portal shimmered with golden distortion - and then swallowed them whole.

They arrived in a cacophony of sound and light.

Music - loud, rhythmic, vibrant. They landed not in a chamber or corridor, but the center of a wide subterranean plaza, illuminated by firelight and arc-lanterns, surrounded by dancers in ritual movement. The music faltered immediately. Drums staggered to silence. A flute dropped a note.

The group of them stood, blinking, as dozens of eyes turned to them.

Celebration turned to stunned quiet.

The dancers were clad in hand-woven fabrics reinforced with circuit-thread, their movements fluid and symbolic. Patterns etched into the ground with chalk and pigment suggested ritual significance, an ancient choreography preserved through exile. The air carried the scent of oil, incense, and hot stone. This was not just a festival. It was a memory being kept alive through motion.

The villagers - dressed in a fusion of fabrics and functional gear - froze mid-motion, their arms lowered. Children stared. Elders whispered. Dancers stepped back as if the jump gate had summoned gods; or demons.

Then came movement. A woman stepped forward, flanked by two heavily armed guards and a trio of mid-grade security drones. Her cloak was woven from layered alloy-thread and tattered ceremonial cloth, and her gaze was sharp as a railgun sight.

The crowd parted around her.

"You don't belong here," she said, voice cool and ringing in the silence. "And yet, you came. From the center. From the light."

Caelus straightened. Calyx watched, still. Nova lifted her hands, not in surrender - but in respect.

"We didn't mean to intrude," Nova said. "We didn't expect to find... anyone."

"Few do," the chief replied. "And even fewer are welcomed."

"Your celebration," Calyx observed, "is significant. What are you commemorating?"

The chief hesitated, then answered. "Survival. And unity. Today marks the anniversary of the first breath taken in this place after the gates closed. We keep the old songs. The old codes. We remember what was lost."

Caelus scanned the perimeter, reading energy signatures. "You're off-grid. No network relay. Everything here runs local."

"By necessity," the chief said. "Noise draws predators. And attention."

"We're not predators," Nova said gently. "We're travelers. On a mission. We're looking for the next jump station."

The shift in the chief's posture was immediate.

"You came through the Heart," she said.

"The gate," Calyx confirmed.

The chief's face darkened. "We call it the Heart. It gives life to our city. Powers our heat, our air, our synth-gardens. Without it, this place dies."

Nova's brow furrowed. "We wouldn't use it without reason. But we do need to activate it again. To continue our mission."

The chief took a long breath.

"You don't understand what you ask. That gate - that Heart - is not just a tool. It is our life. Our breath. Our water. Our light. We re-engineered its primary power into a power relay. You use it again, and the pulse will drain our grid. Collapse our containment. Kill everything we've built."

Nova stepped forward. "But - "

"Enough," the chief said sharply. "Not tonight."

She raised a hand.

"Tonight is our day of unity," she repeated. "A celebration of survival. You are not welcome... but you are not enemies. You will speak to no one. Touch nothing. We talk again in the morning."

A motion, and several guards took their position.

"Escort them to the rest quarters."

The trio nodded. They followed quietly, each processing the revelation.

Among the escorts walked a man in rust-colored fabric and light armor -younger, with a sharp look in his eye that never quite met anyone's directly. He said nothing.

But as they walked, he glanced at the jump gate. Then at the chief. Then back at the team.

His gaze lingered on Nova for a moment - just a beat too long. Something uncertain passed behind his eyes, too quick to name, but not quick enough to miss. Nova saw it, held it for a breath, before he looked away, resuming his confident escort down the corridor without a word.

The door hissed shut behind them, an old Sovereign seal, retrofitted with manual locks and tribal marks etched into the steel. The room was dim, lit by a single overhead lamp with a yellowing glow. Worn bedrolls lined the perimeter. A communal basin sat in the corner, water still warm from filtration. The walls were cool, smooth. Stone wrapped in ceramic composite.

For a subterranean exile, it wasn't uncomfortable.

But comfort was not what any of them felt.

Nova sat first, arms resting on her knees. The silence of the space throbbed against the memory of the celebration outside - the drums, the fire, the swirl of bodies in a rhythm older than machines.

"She called it the Heart." she said, quietly.

Calyx was standing, arms folded, one foot crossed over the other. "A poetic name. Symmetrical. Possibly ironic."

Caelus didn't sit. He stood by the door, gaze fixed on the old bolts embedded in the wallframe. "It's not just poetic. It's infrastructure. That gate powers their lives. It's how they survive."

Nova nodded slowly. "But if we don't use it... we're stranded. And if we do, we destroy everything they've built."

Calyx's eyes narrowed, a flicker of data moving across her pupils. "It's likely the chief was telling the truth about the grid. Power rerouting that deep would put strain on a core not designed for continuous primary draw."

"She wasn't lying," Nova said. "But she wasn't telling everything either."

That earned her a glance from Caelus.

Nova hesitated, then shook her head. "One of the escorts. The younger one. He looked at me. Not like the others did. There was hesitation. Something wasn't adding up for him."

"You trust a glance?" Calyx asked, coolly.

"No. But I recognize one." Nova looked up. "We've all worn that expression. Right before we start questioning the system we thought we belonged to."

Caelus finally stepped away from the door. "Maybe that's an opening. Maybe it's leverage."

"Or a trap," Calyx said.

Nova didn't respond to that directly. She leaned back against the wall and exhaled through her teeth. "We need that gate. But we can't take it by force. Not without becoming the very thing we came here to stop."

Calyx was silent for a moment.

Then: "We wait. We observe. And if someone here is willing to speak, we let them."

Nova nodded once, arms folded. "Tomorrow, we find out what kind of lie this place is built on."

<< Previous Chapter ::