《Extinction World》 Chapter 1: The One In Which We Meet The Hero Belmont fell into the cracked, worn leather of his couch and let his head sag sideways until it landed against the armrest, pushing out a whoosh of stale air from the foam interior through the pores in the second-hand sofa. Then, slowly, he rolled onto his back and looked up, letting his eyes meet the slow rotation of the ceiling fan above him. ¡°Fuck.¡± In his typically over-dramatic fashion, he kept his head on the back edge of the couch while simultaneously trying to reach the paper on the coffee table by his knees, stretched like some gummy prize from the twenty-five cent gumball machine. Several moments of groaning, stretching, and grasping fingers later, Bel gave up with a long sigh. Unready to relinquish his drama just yet, though, he swung his head back far too quickly, planning to snatch the paper off of the table. However, his theatrics only served to make himself dizzy as the blood rushed to his head. In that brief spinning moment, there was a fleeting emptiness that allowed him to forget why life had begun to suck so hard, but then it was gone. Once his eyes stopped swimming circles in his skull, he looked at the paper with furrowed brow and snatched it from the table triumphantly, then repeated the process all over again, letting his head lay back on the couch and looking back up towards the fan. ¡°Fuck.¡± He pulled the paper up and looked at it, placing it between himself and the rotating blades above him so that the page wafted slightly in the breeze. The letter had been printed on lightweight paper in twelve-point whatever-the-fuck-font, double-spaced and justified end to end. All the punctuations were periods, and all the bullet points were daggers into his soul. ¡°Dear Belmont,¡± it started, and it only got worse from there. Weaving his eyes through the strata of well-meaning assaults on his persona, he would have argued every point on the list with the verve of a southern trial attorney, but for one final stiletto in his ego: ¡°You don¡¯t know how to take criticism,¡± it read. Touch¨¦. ¡°Fuck.¡± He let his gaze wander to the last paragraph. He read it, as though it hadn¡¯t been read to him just minutes before. ¡°Bel, I know your life isn¡¯t great right now, but neither is anyone else¡¯s. You can feel sorry for yourself all you want¡ªit¡¯s your prerogative¡ªbut I can¡¯t deal with your projected misery anymore. I have my own shit I¡¯m dealing with.¡± ¡°You hold me down.¡± She put that last line all by itself on the page. Who needs exclamation marks when you can throw haymakers in four words or less? ¡°Fuck.¡± Bel had gotten Dear John letters in the past, but not from long-term partners. He contemplated the planning and thought that had to go into the document. Two years together. How long had she been sitting on all of this? How many signs had she given him? He couldn¡¯t remember any, which meant he probably missed every single one. The birds outside of Belmont¡¯s third-floor walkup coalesced into a shadow over his window, throwing his apartment into momentary twilight. The sudden and sharp change in his environment was enough to snap him out of his funk. He leaned forward, bringing his head back slowly this time. Across the room, the dark screen of the TV shot back a reflection of himself in the moment, and he winced. Pudgy and out of shape were valid descriptions, and the disheveled mop of overgrown-but-thinning dull brown hair did nothing to ease the feeling of self-loathing that had become the leitmotif of his life. The pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance, though, was the shaggy Portland-beard he grew when he lost his last job. It was looking distinctively destitute, and it made him realise just how long he¡¯d been unemployed. He did some mental math and counted the months backwards. ¡°Six months.¡± He forced himself to say the number. That was how long. He¡¯d been let go from his long-term restaurant management gig a little over six months ago. Any other time, it would have been a traumatic blow for him, calling into question his own self-worth and value as a member of the working class. But later that same week, his mother died suddenly of an upper respiratory infection. A month later, his father passed from undiagnosed colon cancer. Between losing his job and then both of his parents, it was a three hit combo that blindsided him, knocking the wind from his sails and the pallor from his complexion. In the six months since, he¡¯d never tried to get himself back together. Throughout his entire life, he¡¯d never remembered them going to the doctor for any sort of yearly check ups. He didn¡¯t think they were anti-vax or anything, but there was the mentality that God would protect them from whatever may come, and that if he wanted to take them home, it was part of his plan. ¡°Fucking bullshit.¡± It put their age into perspective and made him think about his own. In his mid-thirties now, and nothing to really show for it. His parents had owned a small insurance company in his tiny hometown of Brooksville, Florida, but they¡¯d sold it several years ago and retired early. They¡¯d never told Belmont the number, but based on the inheritance, they¡¯d raked in several million. The bulk of the money was donated to their church, leaving Belmont and his sister to split the rest, though in what Belmont assumed was a final fuck you for moving across the country, his parents had left his sister 75% of the remainder, with a line about their grandchildren¡¯s college fund. His sister didn¡¯t have any kids. The executor made a comment to Belmont that it was within his legal rights to contest the will if he felt it was unfairly divided, but Bel didn¡¯t want to kick the hornet¡¯s nest. He took the quarter million that he¡¯d been given, set aside the taxes for it, and went back to Portland. His sister and he hadn¡¯t spoken since. Bel had been living on the money for six months now, and he figured he could easily go a few years if need-be. He didn¡¯t want need to be though. While he reminisced, Bel felt the ground vibrate under his feet and instinctively looked at his phone, assuming it to be the cause, but the screen was dark and no new alerts blazed across the OLED void. After another few seconds of trembling, he understood the root cause. It was an earthquake, and the third in as many days. When he¡¯d left Florida for the west coast, he had a sort of perverse romanticism with the idea of being caught in an earthquake. There was an Indiana Jones feeling about the whole thing. It was adventurous, dangerous, and not at all as shitty as the hurricanes of his home state. When a tropical storm rolled through, there wasn¡¯t much that you could do. Maybe throw some sandbags down, get some water and canned goods from the grocery store, make sure the generator was topped off with diesel, and if you were lucky, all the Bud Light wouldn¡¯t have been bought out yet so you¡¯d grab a rack or two of them for each member of the household. Earthquakes were different, though. Earthquakes didn¡¯t come from miles off the coast with a week of warning. Earthquakes meant thinking on your feet and acting on a plan. Earthquakes were what separated the leaders from the followers, the men from the boys, or something. Earthquakes created opportunities to be a hero to your neighbors as you lift a ceiling beam off of their trapped family dog. Earthquakes were¡­ really none of that, as Belmont was quickly learning. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. In reality, earthquakes were just another terrible thing that hurt more the less you had. Have a mansion on the west side in the hills? Earthquakes were an inconvenience at most. Living in a house that hasn¡¯t passed fire code since the Eisenhower administration? Well, here¡¯s hoping you aren¡¯t too attached to what little else you have. In the twelve years since he¡¯d moved to the west coast, Bel had never felt an earthquake happen. It was always one of those things that people spoke of after the fact, typically asking if you even felt it, which no one did. For most people, it was just a Big Foot story¡ªsomething a neighbor¡¯s friend¡¯s college roommate swears he experienced one time. Bel guessed down in California they were probably worse, but in the Pacific Northwest, they were pretty understated. In the last few days, though, Bel had definitely felt them, and this one was no different. The subtle vibrations under his feet gave way to audible rumblings, and he was suddenly reminded of being in one of those vibrating chairs in the mall. The ones where you can pay $10 to have your butt shook while drinking your Orange Julius, so the person who dragged you to the mall can do their shopping. To his left, a book abruptly fell from the IKEA shelf, haphazardly attached to his wall, and snatched him from his daydream. The clatter of it made Bel jump, and he let out a controlled breath. The rumbling wasn¡¯t stopping. Had the last ones gone on this long? Was this The Big One? He panicked, thinking about what he was supposed to do. The lights flickered, and the power waned, then came back, and then finally cut off completely, leaving him with only the sounds of the earth shaking and his own heartbeat. He didn¡¯t have a school desk to cower under. Or was that just for nuclear bombs? Searching his memory for after-school specials or teen dramas that may hold the answer for him, he came up woefully underserved. Bel thought he remembered an episode of Saved By The Bell where Zack had helped Mr. Belding¡¯s wife give birth in an elevator during an earthquake, or something like that. The memory dragged Bel out of his panic and he smirked at the thought of a 15-year-old boy turned midwife. He remembered the mother and child had survived, but the 15-year-old¡¯s psyche had probably not so much. Either way, it would not help him now. Then it was over. The rumbling stopped, and the apartment returned to silence, but the power hadn¡¯t cut back on yet. Bel walked over to the book and picked it up off the floor. It was a copy of Lenny Bruce¡¯s How to Talk Dirty and Influence People, a gift from the woman that had just walked out of his life. ¡°Fuck.¡± He placed the paperback back on the shelf and put a hand on the wall. Bel looked over to the 75 gallon glass tank a few feet away. In it, somewhere, was a 5 foot long silver and white ball python named Mephisto, and he was Bel¡¯s best friend. ¡°Hey, bud, are you OK in there?¡± There was no response from the snake, who had taken up residence in one of his two hides, likely in response to the earthquake. Bel had bought Mephisto shortly after moving to Portland. He¡¯d gone into the pet store with no actual plan on getting a pet, but really just to look around and maybe play with a rabbit or something. Looking back, it had been because he was lonely in Portland, having just moved from his small hometown a few months earlier. He didn¡¯t have any close friends, and no significant other. He was looking for companionship, even if he didn¡¯t admit it to himself. When a salesman named Brian had asked him what he was looking for, Bel had said that he was just browsing, but then he saw the snake display. He pointed to them, and the man happily showed him the various reptiles in stock. Among the lizards, frogs, and iguanas, there were several small snakes, but the one that stuck out was Mephisto, though the sign on the cage had his name as ¡°Axl.¡± Bel hated Guns ¡®N Roses, and he asked if he could change the name. The salesman had shrugged and said he didn¡¯t think that snakes really cared what their name was, so Bel went with Mephisto from the play Faust. And just like that, he had decided he was going to be the snake guy. Bel laughed when he thought about it. Everyone knows someone who knows someone who has a snake. They were the mythical snake guy. No one was ever actually the snake guy, though. Bel figured there were worse kinds of guys to be. So, $600 and a bootleg DVD of So You Bought a Snake, Now What? later, Bel and Meph were partners. The snake itself had only cost $200, but Bel didn¡¯t want to cheap out on the accoutrement, so he let Brian talk him into just about everything that could be shoved into a 75 gallon fish tank. The DVD had called it enrichment, but Bell thought about it more like setting up a battle map for a game of D&D. He was strategic with it¡ªcreating various ecological zones and ensuring there was significant biodiversity in all the plastic plants¡ªand when he was done, he¡¯d actually felt happy for the first time since his move. Though it took some time for Mephisto to warm up to him, Bel took his time, and by the winter of that year, he couldn¡¯t have imagined ever having another pet. Slowly, Mephisto moved from his hide on top of an unpowered heating pad, and flicked his tongue around, tasting the air. Bel unlatched the top of the vivarium and slid it back, granting his arm access. Meph knew what that meant, and he raised his body towards Bel¡¯s hand. Bel slid his hand under the snake and let him crawl upwards. ¡°Good boy. You want to go for a walk?¡± Meph flitted his tongue. Bel strolled around the apartment, looking over everything and making sure nothing else had fallen or broken. Meph slid up his arm and up to Bel¡¯s neck, checking the air along the way. Once he found purchase on Bel¡¯s shoulder, he relaxed and stopped moving. From overhead, an airplane screamed across the sky, way too low for Bel¡¯s tastes. His apartment was near the airport, and sometimes the planes came in a lot lower than Bel thought was safe. This one, though, seemed to have just barely missed the roof. Bel looked out of the window as it passed and saw that it was still well above the buildings, and he was likely exaggerating it himself because of the stress of the morning. Bel looked up and down the parking lot, half hoping to see a blue Accord, half praying it wasn¡¯t there. It wasn¡¯t, and he gave a long sigh as Meph bumped his nose against the glass. Her name was Monica, and he¡¯d been trying his best not to say the name to himself, maybe believing that there was some power in the repression, but it wasn¡¯t working. Looking out of the window like this reminded him of the first time she¡¯d come over to his place. He¡¯d been so excited that he stared out of the window with his face pressed to the summer glass like a kid waiting for the ice cream truck to come down the street. What he hadn¡¯t known is that she¡¯d taken her car in for an airbag recall, and the dealership had given her a loaner for the night. It was still an Accord, but it was red instead of blue. He hadn¡¯t even known she¡¯d parked until she was stepping out of the car, and by then it had been too late. She¡¯d seen him with his forehead smudging the glass, and she laughed at him from the parking lot. He¡¯d been so embarrassed then, but he laughed when he thought about it now, like she¡¯d laughed when she saw him. She used to laugh like that a lot when they¡¯d first been together. Maybe if he¡¯d realized she hadn¡¯t been laughing so much, he could have done something about it. Too late, Bel. It¡¯s too late now. Across the parking lot, on the sidewalk that lined Sandy Boulevard, an old man stood staring up at the sky, searching across the clouds like he expected to catch a pop-fly at any moment. Bel had never seen him before, and he let out a short laugh at the cloud watcher. He was wearing a tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches, and a pair of matching slacks. His shoes were a stark contrast, though. They were brightly colored Adidas runners, and they looked like he had been standing in pink highlighter fluid. On top of his head, covering wild gray hair, was a baseball cap, and sporadic glints of shiny metal glistened on his fingers as they adjusted it against the harsh pre-noon sun. Bel thought that the old man looked like Costco Indiana Jones. The man¡¯s head swiveled quickly towards Bel, and for a moment their eyes locked, but the man just looked off, back into the sky, as though he didn¡¯t see Bel in the window looking down at him. Bel snorted. ¡°If there is an eclipse right now, it¡¯s gonna blow that dude¡¯s mind.¡± He rubbed Meph¡¯s chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger and turned back into the apartment away from the window. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get you back in your cage and I¡¯ll go get dressed like a respectable, unemployed line cook.¡± Meph flitted his tongue. Bel lowered the snake back into the vivarium and reseated the lid with a click. Meph slithered around his abode slowly, making sure nothing had changed since he left. Bel walked to the bedroom door and turned back to Meph. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna head down to the Plaid Pantry after I get dressed. You want anything?¡± The snake didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Oh, you want me to stop talking to a snake?¡± Again, no response. ¡°You think that this is the beginning of a mental break?¡± Nothing. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t meta-analyze my mental health, and I should probably find a therapist that doesn¡¯t work for frozen mice?¡± Meph slid into one of the hides inside of his enclosure. ¡°Thanks, Dr. Mephisto. Should I leave the check with the receptionist?¡± Chapter 2: The One In Which An Old Man Asks For Directions The power returned before Bel left the apartment, which was cause for minor relief as it meant that he wouldn¡¯t be leaving Mephisto alone with nothing to keep the temperature in his vivarium regulated. Bel wasn¡¯t planning on being gone for any substantial length of time, but he still didn¡¯t like the idea of leaving the snake uncomfortable. Fifteen minutes and a half a mile later, though, and Bel was standing in line at the Plaid Pantry, waiting for his turn in the queue. Ahead of him were three others, a younger guy with a six-pack of some macro brew IPA, another guy, a little older than Bel, with a cold microwave burrito and Zero Sugar Sprite, and then, of course, there was the reason that all of them hadn¡¯t been able to pay for their shit yet; the obligatory lottery scratcher. Bel sighed. He understood why people played the lotto. He¡¯d done it a few times, and he got it. But why did they insist on scratching their ticket at the counter? Just take the ticket, move aside, scratch, and then, if you win, get back in line. Bel sighed again. Maybe on another day, he would have said something, or cleared his throat, or chucked a candy bar at the guy, but not today. Today was a day for eye-daggers and breathy sighs. Behind the counter, the clerk looked like how Bel felt. He was over it. Bel had seen that look before¡ªIn kitchens. It was the thousand-yard stare that every retail worker and customer facing employee earned through sweat and blood. He¡¯d seen servers walk back to the pass through to grab an order and just stand there, face blank, eyes glazed. Bel smiled. It wasn¡¯t funny, but it reminded him of kitchen work. It was what he liked. He enjoyed making food. He liked cursing and swearing and yelling and throwing tongs into the dish pit in the middle of a rush because he dropped them and he didn¡¯t have another clean pair. He missed the rush of it all, and the emotions. Shoulder to shoulder with some other cook, sweating cocaine covered in an artificial tan of cigarette tar and hot grease. And then, at the end of the night, you don¡¯t say a word. You clean up, clock out, and crack a beer. There are three sips and half a cigarette before anything is spoken. Three long, silent sips. Three long, silent drags. Then someone always says it first. ¡°Fuck.¡± And everyone laughs. Not because it was funny, but because it¡¯s all you have left. That¡¯s the kitchen that Bel missed. He sighed again, and the line moved forward a step. By the time Bel was at the front, he was sure the Snickers bar in his hand was melted, and the Red Bull was warm. He put them on the counter and looked at the laptop propped up on a chair next to the clerk. Instinctively, he looked behind himself, but there wasn¡¯t anyone else in line. The laptop was looping a video from NPR¡¯s homepage that showed footage of the earthquake. Seven-point-eight. Bel blinked. That was big, right? He couldn¡¯t remember what big earthquakes were supposed to be, but that seemed like one of them. More images flashed through the video. A family of three stood outside of their house, the father pointing to a large crack in the exterior. Then another of firefighters and paramedics moving at pace through one of the lower income areas in south Portland. The camera cut away before they showed any bodies. ¡°Crazy, right?¡± The clerk looked at Bel. Bel shook his head and met the clerk¡¯s gaze. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s the third one, right? And they¡¯re getting worse?¡± The clerk seemed excited to have someone to talk to, and the glazed over look from minutes before had all but vanished. ¡°Yeah, sixteen dead in today¡¯s, and twenty-four in total over the last three days.¡± Bel tapped his phone to the register, and it beeped his payment. ¡°You need a bag?¡± The clerk reached to grab one of the small paper sacks beside him. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good.¡± Bel looked at where the clerk had moved his hand and saw a small zine. He hadn¡¯t seen one of those in a long time. Some hand made, home printed half-sheet magazine. The title read Today I Learned in retro lettering that reminded Bel of Ripley¡¯s Believe It Or Not, or some other 1920s pulp logo. The clerk must have followed his eyes, because he grabbed the zine and held it up. ¡°This one¡¯s mine.¡± Bel was confused and a little taken aback. ¡°Oh, sorry, I didn¡¯t know it was yours. I wasn¡¯t gonna take it or anything.¡± The clerk apologized, ¡°Oh, no, I didn¡¯t mean it like that. I meant I made it. It¡¯s my zine. You want a copy?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Bel chuckled. ¡°Uh, yeah, sure. I haven¡¯t seen a zine in a while. Thought they died out in the 90s.¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying to bring them back. I wanna publish zines, and rage against machines.¡± The last bit was half-sung in the tune of Harvey Danger¡¯s Flagpole Sitta as the clerk handed over the zine. Bel took it and smiled. ¡°Harvey Danger? Criminally underrated band.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± the clerk really started to perk up now. ¡°Did you know he was a music journalist up in Seattle?¡± Bel shrugged, ¡°No, I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yeah, dude is super smart¡­ but, umm, if you like facts like that, it¡¯s one of the ones in the zine. Lots of little things I¡¯ve learned. I thought other people might like them.¡± Bel nodded and smiled. ¡°Hell yeah, man. Well, thanks for the zine. I¡¯ll give it a read.¡± ¡°No problem. And if you know any I don¡¯t have in there, tell me, and I¡¯ll put them in the next issue and credit you.¡± Bel picked up his Snickers and Red Bull and walked to the exit. ¡°Will do.¡± He saluted the man with a Snickers bar to the temple and a nod. He backed through the door, like he used to in the restaurant, and then spun around into the afternoon sun. The sky was the atypical blue of early Portland fall, like a calm before the storm of five months of rain and overcast vitamin D deficiency. A scent hung in the air, and for a moment, it reminded him of his hometown. Like barbeque and smoke. ¡°Excuse me, do you have the time?¡± A voice came from somewhere near Bel. It was buttery smooth, like a radio DJ. He looked around, to his left and right, but ¡ª ¡°Ahem,¡± the owner of the disembodied voice cleared their throat. Bel turned completely around to the voice. It was the old man from the sidewalk outside of Bel¡¯s apartment. Bel recognized him immediately¡ªbrown tweed jacket, matching slacks, highlighter-pink Adidas runners, and¡­ two baseball caps? Bel looked again. Yeah. Two of them. One stacked neatly on top of the other. They were so well matched that it almost looked like one cap with two bills, but it wasn¡¯t, it was definitely two baseball caps. ¡°The time?¡± The man repeated himself, though he didn¡¯t sound irritated. Bel looked away from the man¡¯s hats, afraid of staring. ¡°Oh, sorry.¡± He grabbed his cellphone from his pocket and tapped the screen with his thumb. ¡°1:29pm.¡± The man¡¯s shoulders visibly slumped. ¡°I see. Thank you.¡± He raised a hand to the brim of his cap to further shield his eyes and looked up towards the crisp blue sky. And that¡¯s when Bel saw them. Rings. One on each finger¡ª10 in all¡ªand all of them twinkled brightly in the sun, catching colors Bel couldn¡¯t understand, as though they were made of prismatic strobe lights. Bel actually squinted in their sparkle. ¡°Wow.¡± Bel said it aloud, though he hadn¡¯t meant to. It was just that the sight of the rings legitimately shocked him. The man looked back down at Bel, as though he was surprised Bel was still standing there. He looked confused for a moment, but then realized what Bel was looking at. ¡°Oh, my rings. Yes.¡± The man held both of his hands out and flipped them over and then over again. ¡°Would you like one?¡± Bel coughed, and then croaked out a weak, ¡°What?¡± The man chortled. ¡°Would you like one of the rings?¡± Bel shook his head, half in disbelief and the other half in rejection. ¡°Oh, no. I couldn¡¯t take one. They are beautiful, though. I¡¯m just not much of a jewelry guy.¡± The man nodded, thoughtfully. ¡°I used to say the same thing. Not much of a jewelry guy. I¡¯ve gotten used to them, though. And others seem to like them. Are you sure you won¡¯t take one?¡± ¡°Oh, no. No, no, no. I¡¯m positive. Thank you, though.¡± Bel was still more than a little flabbergasted by the man¡¯s generosity. ¡°Suit yourself. Oh, though, since you are still here, can you tell me which direction Polaris is in?¡± Bel scrunched his nose. ¡°Polaris?¡± ¡°Yes, Polaris. The north star.¡± Bel exhaled. ¡°Umm, I¡¯m not one hundred percent sure, but if it¡¯s true north, then¡­¡± Bel lined himself up with the road, knowing that it ran east to west, and then pointed up towards the northern sky. ¡°It should be up there in that direction, but I don¡¯t think you can see it in daylight.¡± The man sighed. ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose you can. Well, thank you, anyway.¡± Bel was so confused. ¡°Yeah, no problem. Have a good day.¡± ¡°Good or bad, it will certainly be one unlike any other.¡± Bel had nothing for that one. It was one weird thing too many, and he just gave up on the whole interaction and started down the street back towards his apartment. He was still trying to shake the strange encounter with the old man from his head when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He slid it out and looked at the alert on the screen. One new message. Bel unlocked the phone and tapped the alert. I just heard about you and Monica. Come get a drink. If Mephisto was Bel¡¯s best friend, this message came from his most trusted confidant, Sera. He tapped out a reply on the keyboard. Yeah. I¡¯ll be there in half an hour. There was only one place Sera drank, The Glass Slipper. It wasn¡¯t so much that Bel wanted to get drunk, but he knew that if he didn¡¯t meet Sera, she¡¯d just come over to his apartment and harass him, anyway, and he really didn¡¯t feel like having anyone over at the moment. Truthfully, Bel didn¡¯t want to have to talk about Monica at all, but he knew there was no escaping Sera. He tucked the zine in his back pocket, cracked the Red Bull, and ripped the top of the wrapper of the Snickers with his teeth. Time to face the music. Chapter 3: The One In Which Bel Gets A Drink Bel stepped off of the curb and crossed the street towards The Glass Slipper. He looked across the outdoor seating for any sign of Sera, cigarette and martini in hand, but she wasn¡¯t there yet. ¡°Figures,¡± he said to himself as he stepped up onto the next curb and walked around the corner to the entrance to the bar. The Glass Slipper was a queer dive, and while Bel always felt welcomed when he walked in, there was a nagging part of him that felt as though he shouldn¡¯t be there, that he hadn¡¯t earned this safe space, and should only come as someone else''s¡¯ plus one. He knew that was asinine, and that no one would look at him differently, but it still got to him. He¡¯d mentioned the feeling to Sera once, and after calling him an idiot, she pointed out that the feeling he got when he walked into the bar was the feeling that she got when she walked out of it. That wasn¡¯t the day that Bel learned about ¡®privilege,¡¯ but it was certainly the first time the word resonated with him. He and Sera hadn¡¯t been fast friends. She was a cook in the kitchen when he was hired as the general manager, and as anyone who has worked in a restaurant can tell you, an outside hire on the management roster is the most hated person on the crew. Bel tried his best to maintain a balance of prior experience and a willingness to learn a new location, but he¡¯d be the first to admit that he fucked it up pretty badly when he started. Sera was one of the voices that had no problem calling him out on his shit, and almost from day one, they¡¯d been at each other¡¯s throats. It wasn¡¯t until one particularly nasty winter dinner service that it changed. Every other cook called out, leaving Bel and Sera to work the kitchen three cooks short on a Friday night. Times like those were crucibles for cooks. You either temper yourself in the fire, or you lose your shit and break. Bel had been impressed by Sera¡¯s work, and later Sera would tell him the same thing. That was the night that a mutual respect was born, and over time, it blossomed into a close comradery. While Bel wouldn¡¯t go so far as to call Sera his best friend, they maintained a playful antagonism that neither of them took too seriously, and when push came to shove, each of them knew they could count on the other. Bel stepped into the bar¡¯s entryway, a small room decorated in Poloroid pictures of patrons. Bel always tried to focus on one¡ªjust one¡ªand appreciate the person in that moment. Today it was an older man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s, wearing a Misfits tank top with a bright green dyed mohawk. The man¡¯s exposed arms showed two full sleeves of tattoos, though the image had faded with time, and Bel couldn¡¯t tell what they were of. He was smiling widely and holding up a rubber chicken by the feet. Out of context, the picture made no sense, but in that moment, that man¡¯s joy was so contagious that Bel didn¡¯t care what the context was. ¡°Good for you, green mohawk dude.¡± He smiled and pushed open the next set of doors and entered the bar proper. Stephan, the full-time bouncer, gave him a nod as he walked in. ¡°No Sera today?¡± he said. Bel rolled his eyes. ¡°She¡¯ll be here. She¡¯s just taking her sweet-ass time, I¡¯m sure.¡± Stephan laughed, ¡°Well, she was in rare form last night. I think she did most of Grease and an encore of I Can Hear The Bells from Hairspray. She might be pretty fucking hungover.¡± Bel snorted. ¡°She¡¯s been working on Hairspray for a while now. I wish she would have told me she was gonna go for it. Maybe I could have brought some flowers or something.¡± ¡°I think it was the third or fourth vodka soda that convinced her.¡± Stephan jokingly held up six fingers. ¡°She¡¯s turning into a lightweight. We used to share a bottle of gut rot after work between the two of us. Either way, though, I¡¯m gonna grab a beer. If she walks in and hasn¡¯t seen me yet, let her know I¡¯ll be outside. In the cold. Waiting. Cold. Alone. In the cold.¡± Bel laid the melodrama on thick. ¡°I¡¯ll send her your way.¡± Stephan gave Bel a thumbs up. ¡°Oh, we just started up the fall cocktail list. Give the Pumpkin Carriage a try.¡± Bel shook his head and sighed. The Glass Slipper wasn¡¯t just a queer dive, it was a queer dive with a theme, and that theme was Cinderella. The original owner, Rio, was a drag queen from Vegas that retired to Portland in the 80s. They¡¯d started The Glass Slipper as an homage to the fairy godmother that could show the world how beautiful Cinderella truly was. Rio thought of themself as that fairy godmother, though changed slightly, they called themself the Fairy GodOther. They had wanted a place for people that didn¡¯t feel like they were right and to create a safe space where they could help give others the confidence that Cinderella had when she put on the glass slipper. And they made it happen. While The Glass Slipper wasn¡¯t as popular as some other bars like CC Slaughters, it had a place in the community as a bar where you could go to be who you believed you should be. When Rio died in 2007, the staff mounted a framed picture of them on the bar, wearing their famous Fairy GodOther drag gown. It was customary to press your lips to your fingers and then touch the frame, as a sign of thanks to the Fairy GodOther themself. Bel did just that as he walked up to the bar. The bartender was new, and Bel wasn¡¯t sure what their name was yet, so it was hard to flag them down with their back turned. A few throat clears and an elbow on the bar later, and the bartender turned. ¡°Oh, hey, sorry. I was trying to learn all the new cocktails. What can I get you?¡± Bel waved it off. ¡°No worries. I was told I should try the Pumpkin Carriage. What¡¯s it got?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s an easy one. Pumpkin Spice Liqueur, Cointreau, a splash of prosecco and a cinnamon sugar rim, garnished with an orange peel, and served in a martini glass.¡± Bel winced. ¡°That sounds fucking terrifying. I¡¯ll take two. Just hold back on the second one for Sera when she gets here.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think Sera liked this one.¡± Bel laughed, ¡°She should have been here to order her own damned drink, then.¡± The bartender smiled. ¡°Fair enough. You wanna keep a tab open?¡± Bel nodded and handed his card over. He watched as the bartender worked. They were obviously new. He could see their hands shaking slightly as they fiddled with the jigger to get the measurements right. Bel noticed they hadn¡¯t rimmed the glass before they started pouring, but he honestly didn¡¯t care. The bartender slid the glass towards him with a smile. ¡°Enjoy.¡± Bel took the glass with a nod. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve been properly introduced yet. I¡¯m Bel. It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡± The bartender flashed a bright grin. ¡°Oh, hi, Bel. It¡¯s great to meet you too. I¡¯m Monica.¡± Bel stifled a cough. ¡°Monica.¡± The name stuck in his throat like a pumpkin spice cocktail. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t forget it.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Walking away from the bar, Bel resisted the urge to take a sip of the cocktail that was dangerously close to climbing over the brim of the glass for fear of whatever reaction he might have to it. So intent on the drink was he that he nearly walked into someone else as they stepped into the bar. Bel looked up at the last moment to see a stout middle-aged man in a Punisher T-shirt and a Thin Blue Line baseball hat. Well, this won¡¯t end well. There were only two reasons someone like this guy would walk into a bar called The Glass Slipper. Either it was costume night, and the theme was punchable faces, or he wanted to start shit. Bel turned and saw Stephan standing as the man passed. Mr. Blue Lives was going to learn the hard way that queer bars don¡¯t hire beefcake bouncers just for looks. Out on the patio, Bel tugged the zine from his back pocket and took a seat. He didn¡¯t open it immediately, instead he just looked around. The sun was getting low in the sky despite it still being early afternoon¡ªtypical for Portland this time of year. There were still no clouds, though, and Bel enjoyed the shreds of sunlight that filtered through the horizon line of the east side. It was calming for him. Simple. He didn¡¯t have a care in the world. That was a lie, and immediately Bel¡¯s gut shifted as he thought about Monica leaving him, and not having a job, and the earthquakes¡­ The earthquakes. They were so odd. Three so far, and they hadn¡¯t been small. Even so, no one seemed to talk about them. Hell, come to think of it, he felt like it was strange that the bar was even open. Then again, the world had been pretty fucked up over the last few years, so maybe everyone had just gone with the flow on this one. Sure, why not? Earthquakes. I¡¯ll mark it on the bingo card. Bel looked at the drink on the table. He sighed and took a sip. ¡°Ugh! Fuck!¡± He had to stop himself from spitting it out. It was pure sugar. ¡°Who the fuck thought this was a good idea? I¡¯ll get a hangover just thinking about it too much. Jesus.¡± It didn¡¯t stop him from taking another sip, though. The second time, it was a bit more palatable, as he was prepared for the shock of it, but it was still cloyingly sweet. He let out another sigh and opened the zine. Less than ten minutes later, and Bel heard the patio door swing open behind him. ¡°Hey Stephan, we got a bum out here.¡± Bel closed his eyes and let his head lull backwards. ¡°I don¡¯t think bum is PC anymore, Sera.¡± She walked around the table and sat down, Pumpkin Carriage in hand. Her hair was a new color. The once firetruck red curls were now replaced with a burgundy bun, and she wore the eye shadow to match. ¡°Fine. Out of work, lazy-ass line cook. Better?¡± Bel ignored her jabs. ¡°I see you got my drink.¡± Sera, in turn, ignored Bel¡¯s. ¡°And you met the new bartender. Monica. How you feeling about that?¡± ¡°Oh, fucking peachy, thanks. By the way, how¡¯d you hear already? You sent me a text, like, an hour after it happened.¡± ¡°Monica texted me. Told me you¡¯d probably need a friend.¡± Bel scrunched his face and drew in a long breath. ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°Yeah, Bel. You really fucked up this time. She was a good one. One of the best. Saintly, even.¡± ¡°Oh, please, twist the knife a little more.¡± Sera took a sip of her drink and screwed up her face. ¡°What did you do? Did she read you the riot act, or just take her things and bounce?¡± Bel exhaled. ¡°Oh, she gave me bullet points.¡± ¡°Fuuuuuck.¡± ¡°Yep. You know all the shitty things I do?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Sera said with a smirk. ¡°Well, apparently, so did she, and she didn¡¯t hold back on telling me about them.¡± Sera chuckled and took another sip. ¡°Christ, this shit is terrible.¡± ¡°Tell me about it.¡± Bel raised his glass. ¡°To the single life.¡± Sera looked sheepishly at her glass and didn¡¯t move. It took a second, but Bel caught on. ¡°No. You didn¡¯t. Who?¡± ¡°Just some guy I met here last night.¡± ¡°Then it''s not serious, is it?¡± Sera played shy and looked away. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. He took me out to breakfast this morning, and then we went back to my place, again¡ª¡± ¡°And that¡¯s enough of that.¡± Bel held up a hand. ¡°But on the subject of last night, I heard you did Hairspray. How¡¯d it go?¡± ¡°Fucking amazing!¡± Bel pumped his fist. ¡°Fuck yeah! Congrats!¡± Sera was beaming. ¡°I was so nervous, but everyone was singing along and laughing. Ugh, I love it. I think I¡¯ll do a few more songs next time. You know, change up the repertoire.¡± She took another wincing sip on the cocktail and then looked at the zine in front of Bel. She snatched it and held it up as though she were reading a diary. ¡°It¡¯s a zine.¡± Bel tried to snatch it back, but Sera jerked away. ¡°Yeah, grandpa, I know. Where¡¯d you get it?¡± ¡°Clerk at the Plaid on my way over. Said he was trying to bring them back.¡± Sera flipped through the pages, scanning each one, and then stopped. ¡°Today I learned that the last Blockbuster Video Store is located in Anchorage, Alaska.¡± She looked thoughtful for a moment. ¡°Huh. I didn¡¯t know that.¡± Bel cocked his head. ¡°That¡¯s wrong.¡± Sera set the zine down. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not in Alaska. It¡¯s in Oregon, in Bend. Monica and I went there last year on the way down to the redwood forest.¡± ¡°Maybe there are two?¡± Bel gave her an incredulous look. ¡°No. The one in Anchorage closed, like, five years ago. The zine is wrong.¡± Sera doubled down. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. It can¡¯t be. It¡¯s printed right here.¡± Bel let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Oh, my god. Here, I¡¯ll pull it up on my phone.¡± Bel picked his phone off the table and opened the maps app. He maneuvered to Bend and searched for ¡®Blockbuster¡¯. Nothing. He tried ¡®video store¡¯. A mom-and-pop store, but no Blockbuster. He tried ¡®video rental¡¯, ¡®DVD rental¡¯, and a few others. Still nothing. He gave up on the maps app and opened his browser. No results in Google. Sera saw the defeat on Bel¡¯s face and smiled. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a rough day for Belmont.¡± ¡°Fuck you, I know it¡¯s there. I bought a shirt while I was there. It¡¯s in my closet at home. I¡¯ll send you a pic of it when I get back.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Bel dropped his phone on the table in mock frustration. Sera stood up. ¡°I gotta tinkle, watch my bag¡ª¡± Pop. Pop. Pop. The sound came from inside the bar. Bel instantly recognized it, and his stomach twisted. A man burst out of the side door and sprinted past the patio fence. Bel knew him. It was the Blue Lives guy. Bel was up in a flash. He flung his chair backwards and ran to the fence. One hand on the rail, and he sent both of his legs over at once. The man was half a block away. Bel pushed off the fence and ran for him. He hadn¡¯t run in years, not seriously, but he still had some wind in him. Bel pushed as hard as he could, and he was gaining. The man turned the corner past a bodega and Bel followed. Through some parked cars on the side of the road, across a yard, into an unpaved alleyway. Bel kept gaining, little by little. Then, the man slipped. He didn¡¯t fall, but he lost his balance and went down to a knee. The unpaved gravel seemed to be enough to break the man¡¯s spirit, and he wasn¡¯t able to quickly recover. The exertion was catching up to the over-weight man. Bel saw his opportunity. He took three full strides and lept towards him with all his might. The head on collision with the heavier man knocked the wind from Bel¡¯s lungs. His chest made contact with the man¡¯s shoulder, and it was like jumping onto a cement pylon. He swung his arms around and attempted to grapple the man, but he wasn¡¯t in a dominant position. The man¡ªstill on one knee¡ªshoved Bel off, stood up, and started running again. It took Bel a second to stand, still trying to catch his breath. It was too late. The man was gone, now. He¡¯d turned a corner, and Bel had no idea where he was running. He¡¯d lost him. ¡°Fuck.¡± Bel coughed. The realization dawned on him. There¡¯d been gunshots. It hadn¡¯t even crossed his mind, but he¡¯d just abandoned Sera and went after the guy. Panic set in. Bel turned on his heels and started running back with everything he had left. Rounding the corner to the bar, he took the main entrance instead of jumping the fence again. As soon as he entered, he stopped short and put a hand out onto the wall. ¡°Holy shit.¡± The first thing Bel noticed was the smell. It reeked like shit and sick. Then he looked at the ground. One of the bar regulars, someone named Mike, he thought, was face down, collapsed from their barstool, a pool of blood forming under their torso. It took a moment to notice the second person on the ground, because to Bel, it didn¡¯t register as a person. He looked, trying hard to reconcile what he was seeing. Then it came to him. It was Stephan on the floor, but half of his face was missing. Sera was on the ground beside him, sobbing. Bel¡¯s vision dimmed around the edges, and he felt his knees buckle, and then fail completely. He dropped to the floor, coughing, and vomited. Chapter 4: The One In Which The World Ends Neither the police nor the paramedics had arrived after nearly 20 minutes, and to Bel, it felt like an eternity. He¡¯d churned through his emotions to figure out where his head was, at least enough to try to help everyone else in the bar, even though there wasn¡¯t much he could do. Monica, the bartender, sat quietly on one of the bar stools, looking the opposite direction of the dead man 15 feet away from them. Bel didn¡¯t know why they were sitting so close to him, but he knew that no one processed shit like this in the same way. He looked towards Sera, who was inconsolable. She hadn¡¯t said a word to him, but Bel was OK with that. He wasn¡¯t sure what he could say to her in this situation. It was beyond fucked. Eventually he tired of waiting, and walked to the bodega he¡¯d passed when chasing the man. Bel wasn¡¯t sure how much shit he¡¯d be in if the cops thought that he¡¯d fled the scene or something, but he was too exhausted to care. The man behind the counter was eyeing the vomit on Bel¡¯s shirt and asked if something happened. Bel waved him off, though. He didn¡¯t want to explain that there¡¯d been two people murdered 50 yards away. He just bought a pack of menthols and a lighter from the guy and walked back out. This was the first pack in almost two years. It had been one of the early things he¡¯d done to change for Monica¡ªquitting smoking¡ªback when their relationship was still new. Looking back, it might have been the only thing he¡¯d truly changed. He pulled himself out of the funk¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to think about Monica or anything else right now. Right now, he just wanted a cigarette. He tore the plastic off the Camels and yanked the paper wrapper off inside. It took several tries to get the lighter to strike in the wind, but it finally did, and Bel took a drag. He sighed. A long, long sigh. He felt like there was some emotion that he was missing. That he should cry, or be upset, or manic, or something, but he just felt empty. So damned empty. Walking back, he saw that Sera had moved outside and was on the patio with a plastic cup of water. He walked around the side and slid in a gap between the fence and the bar wall, and walked over to her. She didn¡¯t look at him, and he said nothing. He just flipped open the top of the cigarette box and held it up to her. She took one, and Bel handed her the lighter. He watched her hands tremble as she tried to light it. He almost took the lighter back to do it for her, but the lighter struck and she got it herself. Bel took a long pause and then clenched his eyes before breaking the silence. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna talk if you don¡¯t want to talk, but you know I got you, right? You can talk to me, if you want.¡± Her reply didn¡¯t come immediately. Instead, slowly, she took two more long drags off the cigarette and then tapped the ash. When she did finally speak, her voice was weak and breaking. ¡°You ran after him. I thought you were dead. I thought he was gonna kill you.¡± Bel felt his stomach churn. ¡°Oh, Christ, Sera. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He looked at her with pleading eyes, but she didn¡¯t turn her head. Her gaze fixed on the last light of the setting sun. Bel almost started talking again, but the sirens coming down the block cut him off. Sera took a drag and slowly exhaled. ¡°Thanks for the cigarette. It almost feels like it used to. You know, after work, lighting one up to kill the stress.¡± Another pull. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel good, though. I don¡¯t feel good.¡± She tapped the ash off. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go sit down.¡± She never met Bel¡¯s eyes. She just turned away and sat down on the patio and watched as three police cars and an ambulance pulled alongside the sidewalk. Time moved quickly after that. The police worked through the scene like robots, taping off the bar, saying code words on their walkie-talkies, and questioning everyone. Bel overheard one officer bitching about having been up for almost 48 hours because of all the earthquakes. It didn¡¯t escape Bel that all the cops seemed on edge. He watched as the paramedics wheeled the bodies out after evidence was collected, and the scene photographed. It made him sick. There were covers over the bodies, but he still felt like he could see them. A thin cloth wasn¡¯t enough to separate the reality he had witnessed and the action they performed. There were two more dead people now than there had been an hour ago. Two dead, innocent people. A voice in his head reminded him that people die every day, many of them innocent. The cops turned Sera loose pretty quickly, as she hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at the killer, and had seen nothing happen. Bel watched as she walked away to her car. Her face was stained red with her burgundy eyeliner. She hadn¡¯t said another word to him. He realized he felt more sadness about letting her down that he did about the dead people in the bar, and that only made him feel worse. Bel was on his second round of questions, though they were nearly identical to the first, only asked by a different person with more self-importance. Detective Robber, as his uniform said, flipped open his scratch pad and tapped his pen on the page. Bel wondered if he practiced looking stereotypical in the mirror. ¡°Michael Belmont Graham, is it?¡± Detective Robber started. ¡°Yeah. Is your last name really Robber?¡± ¡°Rudolph Robber, but my friends call me Rudy.¡± The detective¡¯s tone was friendly, but practiced. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d answered that question. ¡°Mr. Graham, where were you when the attack happened?¡± Bel didn¡¯t like that. ¡°I was right here, on the patio, when the murder happened.¡± Rudy didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Can you tell me what you saw?¡± Bel sighed. ¡°I passed the man in the bar. He looked like he was in his late forties, a little shorter than me¡ªmaybe five-foot-ten, and probably between two-hundred-thirty and two-hundred-forty pounds. He was stocky, and not fit, and he was wearing a black T-shirt with a gray Punisher logo, as well as a black ball cap with a black and white American flag with the blue line through it. The next time I saw him, he ran out of the bar, down the street here, around the corner, across the next street over, and into an alleyway. I tackled him, but he got away from me and ran off before I could follow.¡± The detective scratched notes on his pad. ¡°Uh-huh. Did you see what color his hair was? Did he have any distinct facial features like a beard, or any tattoos?¡± ¡°No, no beard, but he had short hair, like it was a buzz cut under the cap. Nothing funny about his face, and I didn¡¯t see any tattoos, either.¡± Detective Robber started a new line in their notes. ¡°Would you say his skin tone was dark? Black or Hispanic?¡± Bel cocked his head to the side. ¡°Uh, no. He was a white guy.¡± The Detective seemed unfazed. ¡°Uh-huh. Could he have perhaps been a light-skinned black man? Or maybe mixed?¡± Bel exhaled sharply. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Robber repeated himself in the same tone, ¡°Could he have perhaps been a¡ª¡± Bel cut him off. ¡°No, I heard you. I just didn¡¯t think you actually asked me that. No, man, he was a white dude. He had white skin. I got a real good look at him.¡± ¡°You¡¯re positive about that? We don¡¯t want to chase down any false leads.¡± Bel was getting pissed. ¡°He was white, man. Whistling REO Speedwagon and everything. Clear as day.¡± The detective looked up for the first time from his notebook. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate your tone, Mr. Graham.¡± ¡°Oh, that makes two of us.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just doing my job.¡± Bel scoffed. The detective melted right back into his monotone line of questioning. ¡°Is there anything else that could help us identify the man?¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°No. He was just your run-of-the-mill white homophobic weekend warrior.¡± Bel saw the detective grind his pen into the thin notepad paper. ¡°Mr. Graham, we have not determined this as a hate crime.¡± Bel jerked his head up towards the sky. It was everything he could do to not snatch the pen out of the cop''s hand and shove it into his eyeball. He took a deep breath and held it, finally releasing after a moment of thought. ¡°Am I being detained?¡± There was a momentary pause, then, ¡°No, you are not being detained.¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°Cool. I¡¯m gonna cash in some white privilege, then, and tell a cop to get fucked while I walk away.¡± He turned around and started walking. ¡°Mr. Graham¡­¡± Bel didn¡¯t look back. He just raised two fingers over his shoulder and muttered, ¡°Get fucked, Rudy.¡± Once Bel was a block away, he instinctively pulled his earbuds out of his pocket and popped them in, and then stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He took a deep breath and tried to get the cop out of his head. Looking at his phone, he had no idea what music to play. Scrolling through his recent tracks, he thought about playing one of his favorite albums or playlists, but he didn¡¯t want to have something potentially tainted forever with the memory of the night. He flipped mindlessly through the suggested songs, but there wasn¡¯t anything for this moment. So, he just slid the phone back in his pocket and let the earbuds do their noise canceling thing. He¡¯d rather listen to the void than even traffic at the moment. When Bel had left his apartment, he¡¯d only intended to go for a half an hour, tops, and he hadn¡¯t brought a jacket. He regretted it on the walk home. A chill wind blew in from across the Columbia River and threatened to turn his skin to ice. As he was walking past the Plaid Pantry again, he wondered if the same clerk was inside. Bel could use some mindless trivia to get his head out of the mud it wallowed in. He reached back into his back pocket, but there was nothing there. He¡¯d forgotten the zine at the bar. Then he remembered he¡¯d forgotten the card that he¡¯d left to open a tab as well. ¡°Goddamnit.¡± Bel didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be able to go back to The Glass Slipper for a long while. He was going to have to get a replacement card. Then he thought about how fucked up it was to worry about a replacement debit card after seeing two people get killed. ¡°Fuck!¡± Bel shouted it. He didn¡¯t care anymore. He didn¡¯t care if someone saw him¡ªheard him raving like a mad man¡ªhe just needed to scream something, even if it was only against the wind. ¡°Fuck you!¡± He saw the man¡¯s face in his memory and felt a growl in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes, and the wind chilled them on his cheek. This was it. This was Bel¡¯s emotional outlet. Anger. It had always been this way. In school, in kitchens, in relationships. He was the angry kid. He¡¯d learned to temper it, and he never lashed out physically, but irrational, unapologetic anger was his coping mechanism. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Bel thought about the killer. He thought about what he would do if he saw him again. If he were just walking down the street and saw the man heading towards him. He repeated it, over and over again in his head, until the short film that he¡¯d constructed was nothing more than him beating his fists into a pulp of human remains. Bel wanted to be animalistic. He wanted to feel the aggression. He wanted to feed the man his own intestines like some kind of fucking macabre Ouroboros. Would he be able to do it? If he saw the man, could he take those steps that pushed him beyond all reasonable sanity? Bel stopped again in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up towards the stars. The night was just as clear as the day had been, and he could see the myriad of twinkling lights above himself. Momentarily, as his eyes slowly adjusted, he could make out the faintest gradient in the stars that marked the body of the Milky Way galaxy. There is so much out there, and so little down here, he thought to himself. He felt a little more at ease as he reflected on the sky above him, and he started walking again. By the time he climbed up the stairs to his apartment, the fall chill had truly set in, and he was shivering. He turned his key in the lock and pushed the door open into a dark apartment. The only light was a small one inside of Mephisto¡¯s vivarium. Bel reached over and flicked the light switch. Everything was exactly as he left it, not that he had expected any change. Maybe there was a small hope in him that Monica would have come back. She¡¯d be sitting there on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal like she used to when she¡¯d binge some trashy streaming show. She wasn¡¯t there, though. As much as Bel wanted her to be there, to hug him¡ªto comfort him¡ªshe wasn¡¯t there. Being in the closed environment of his apartment, he became acutely aware of the dried vomit on his shirt as the scent gathered in his nose. Bel didn¡¯t wait until he got to his room. He took it off right then. ¡°I need a shower.¡± He walked to the bathroom and dropped the rest of his clothes on the floor before cranking the hot water knob all the way around. It needed to be steaming¡ªboiling¡ªanything to cauterize the day and seal the wounds on his ego. He stepped in, and just stood there for a few minutes, thinking about nothing but the hot vapors roiling around him. It stung at first, but he didn¡¯t move. He just let time fall off of him like the water. After his shower, he took the dirty clothes into his bedroom and tossed them in the hamper. He grabbed some boxers and a pair of pants from the clean clothes pile, and went to pick up a shirt, but he remembered the whole Blockbuster debacle. He put the boxers and pants on and then started his search. Bel looked through the closet, rummaging through the shirts that were hung from the hangers, but it wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Come on, now.¡± In the back of his mind, Bel imagined himself having lost his marbles and only hallucinated going to the store. Then he remembered Monica would fold his T-shirts and put them in the small drawers under his bed when there wasn¡¯t room in the closet. Bel thought about it¡ªabout her folding his clothes and putting them away for him¡ªand he sighed. He pushed the shirts aside in the drawer, looking for the telltale blue, and he saw it. He yanked it out and held it up, reading the text as it unfolded. Friday Nights At The Last Blockbuster And then, at the bottom, in a cursive font: Anchorage, AK. Bel dropped the shirt and felt his chest tighten. ¡°What the fuck?¡± He had bought the shirt, there was no question about it. It was right there on the floor. But, he wouldn¡¯t have bought a shirt for a Blockbuster in Alaska, though. He kicked at it with his feet to flatten it out. The words hadn¡¯t changed. Bel took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. ¡°You know what? Fuck it. I¡¯m gonna own this shit.¡± He looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Is this what you want from me today? You think this fucking shirt bullshit is gonna break me? Fuck you.¡± Bel bent down and grabbed the shirt. He looked at the text one more time before sliding it over his head. He grumbled as he walked back to the living room. ¡°Goddamned bullshit shirt.¡± He walked over to Mephisto¡¯s cage. Slowly, he slid the top back and calmed himself before he reached into the tank. ¡°Hey bud, you want to go for a walk?¡± Mephisto was already halfway up the side of the glass before Bel could pick him up. The snake slithered up Bel¡¯s arm, and he watched the silver and white scales as they stretched and compressed against his skin. Meph wandered up and around Bel¡¯s neck, resting across his shoulders. Bel smiled, but there was a tinge of sadness. ¡°We gotta talk, Meph. I¡¯ve had a rough day.¡± Bel walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer from the bottom shelf. He didn¡¯t like to drink alone¡ªhe knew where that road ended¡ªbut he needed something, and another cigarette wasn¡¯t the answer. He cracked it, and between sips, recounted the entire day to Mephisto, from the breakup, to the murders, to the shirt. It helped to say it all aloud, but when he did, he thought about just how insane the whole day had been. ¡°You don¡¯t think I¡¯m crazy, right, Meph?¡± The snake flitted its tongue. ¡°We gotta work on your vocab, bud.¡± Bel sat on the couch and pulled out his phone. It struck him that he hadn¡¯t gotten any emergency alerts for any of the earthquakes. ¡°Fuck me, not another weird thing.¡± He thought about it, but then it dawned on him. He set Meph on the coffee table, and the snake immediately went towards the beer can. Bel pulled him away from it, but then looked back at his phone. He went to the settings and through a menu to get to ¡®Wireless Emergency Alerts¡¯, and there it was. In a moment of frustration, he¡¯d turned the alerts off probably more than a year ago because he kept getting alarms for emergencies in fucking Tacoma. He decided to flip the switch back, just to be safe. ¡°There. Not everything has to be some intense mental endurance trial today.¡± He looked back at the table just in time to see Meph topple the beer can. Bel snatched him up and righted the can. ¡°Dude. You¡¯re as bad as a cat sometimes.¡± Bel stood. ¡°Come on, back in your house.¡± He walked across the room and returned Mephisto to the vivarium before going to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. On the table by the beer can, his phone buzzed, and then buzzed again, before producing an ear piercing alarm. Bel dropped the roll of towels back on the counter and ran to the phone. He picked it up and read the alert. EMERGENCY ALERT GLOBAL INFRASTRUCTURE FAILURE DETECTED IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED: SEEK SHELTER UNPRECEDENTED GEOMAGNETIC DISTURBANCE IN PROGRESS EXPECT COMMUNICATION AND POWER OUTAGES Bel didn¡¯t even have time to process the text of the message before the apartment started to shake. It wasn¡¯t an earthquake this time, though. Some incredible noise rumbled across the ceiling. Bel ran to the window, just in time to see the belly of a 747 cross within a hundred feet of his roof. ¡°Holy shit!¡± The plane was in a dive, and Bel watched as it careened over Sandy Boulevard, and then towards the airport. He stared in horror, mouth agape, as the nose of the jet struck the ground, and then the night lit up like day as a fireball bigger than anything Bel had ever seen consumed the plane and all the surrounding areas. A split second later, the shockwave and sound collided with the apartment as one, and knocked Bel from his feet. The window panes shook violently, and shattered, raining glass down on Bel¡¯s legs, and he screamed in pain and terror. It took a long moment, but he slowly crept back up and looked out the shattered window. A plume of black smoke rose into the distance, lit by the dancing fires below it, casting a morbid shadowbox of hypnotic silhouettes in the foreground. Bel looked up into the sky, following the smoke, and saw shifting waves of light in the atmosphere. Aurora? Bel thought, in a startling moment of clarity. He ran to the front door and swung it wide. He meant to get a better view of the aurora, but he stopped just before colliding with the old man in the tweed jacket, who was standing just outside his door. ¡°What¡­¡± The old man looked at Bel. His face looked worn and tired, though his blue eyes still shone brightly. The old man reached over and placed a ringed hand on Bel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°It will certainly be one unlike any other,¡± he said, echoing his words from earlier in the day. Bel felt locked in place, as though the man had an iron grip on him. In the distance, he could hear some of his neighbors screaming, but he wasn¡¯t able to look away from the old man¡¯s eyes. ¡°What the fuck is happening?¡± Bel¡¯s voice cracked on the words. The old man remained calm, and his tone was soothing. ¡°It is an end. The end of this world and its inhabitants. But it is not your end.¡± Bel was feeling lightheaded, and he tried his best to control his breathing. ¡°What do you mean?¡± The old man pointed to the north, into the sky, and Bel followed his finger. Slightly to the left of the plume of smoke, a bright light grew in the darkness. Bel thought it might be a star at first, but it wasn¡¯t. It was growing, not only in brightness, but in size. Bel held up a hand to shield his eyes from the intensity. He didn¡¯t have time to ask another question. The light burned, and Bel felt the emptiness again. Not despair, but finality. Inevitability. The heat rose, and he felt his skin tighten. He tried to take a step back from it, but he faltered. The light blinded him. The heat scorched him. Then a coolness overtook him, followed by nothing.
Bel awoke in his bed and bolted upright. His heart was racing, and his clothes clung to his sweaty frame. He patted his arms and chest like he was smothering a fire, but there was none. He pressed both of his hands against his head, gasping for breath. There was a strange taste in his mouth, and a familiar scent in the air. The smell of his old hometown. The smoke and barbecue like charred meat permeated his bedroom. His breathing calmed after a moment, and Bel turned and slid out of his bed. ¡°Was¡­ was it all a dream?¡± He stumbled to the bedroom door and opened it slowly. The apartment was dark, and directly across from him, the window that had shattered in the airplane crash was still whole. ¡°Oh, my fucking God. It was a dream.¡± Bel looked around more. His phone was on the coffee table. Meph was in his cage. And Monica¡¯s keys were on the kitchen counter. Bel did a double take. ¡°Mon?¡± He called out for her, but there was no answer. He walked over to the counter and picked up the keys. They didn¡¯t jingle. They appeared to be soldered together. Bel shook them, trying to break them apart, but they refused to separate. He threw them onto the counter, hard, and they bounced and slid before rebounding off the backsplash and clamoring to the floor. ¡°What the fuck.¡± It wasn¡¯t so much a question as a statement of fact. Bel turned around and looked over the apartment again. Everything seemed normal. He walked to the couch and ran his hand along it. It felt the same, but there was no give in the leather, like it was stuffed with concrete. He tried pressing down with all of his weight, but it was as if he was trying to crush a brick. He looked over at the restored window. It was exactly as it should be, except that beyond it lay a complete void. There was nothing. No street lights, no traffic, no stars, no trees. Bel turned back and looked at Mephisto¡¯s vivarium. He ran to it and tried to pull the lid off, but it was sealed to the glass. He looked at Meph and saw that the snake was the same as everything else. Some lifeless facsimile of the real thing. A noise came from behind Bel, and he smelled the faintly smoky scent again. He turned, and the old man was standing in his living room. ¡°Ease yourself, Belmont. We have much to discuss and very little time.¡± His voice was still even and mellow. ¡°Who the fuck are you!?¡± The old man held his hands out in a calming gesture. ¡°I am Melchior, and I will explain everything that I can to you.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on? Where am I?¡± Melchior paced slowly in front of the window. The rings on his fingers shone with an otherworldly, and in this darkness, impossible light. ¡°You are in a place between worlds, outside of existence. You could imagine it as though you were traveling through space, if you like, it is not too dissimilar.¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°What?¡± The old man didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Your world¡ªTerra, Earth, Gaea, Tellus, Sol 3¡ªis no more. There is no easy way for me to say that, so I will be plain with you. I don¡¯t expect you to believe me, but I am not lying to you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± The words caught in his throat. His mind raced. No more? What about Sera? Monica? The faces of everyone he knew flashed through his thoughts, each one a question without an answer. ¡°It is something that you may ponder on later. Unfortunately for us both, there isn¡¯t the time to discuss it now. Nod if you understand.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°You are the last of the human species of your world. You are not the last human, as evidenced by myself and many other that you will meet, but you are the very last one of Earth. That makes you something of a commodity, to put it bluntly. You are what is referred to as a ¡®Laster¡¯. You are the last of your kind. Am I being clear enough?¡± Bel nodded again, though more slowly. ¡°You are about to enter a new world, one designed specifically for you and Lasters like you. It is imperative that you survive. To that end, I have something that I must give you.¡± Melchior pulled a small wooden box from his coat pocket. He walked to Bel and opened it. It was a ring box, and in it, a simple silver ring. ¡°Take this ring. Do not wear it, yet. Not until you are on the new world. It must remain hidden from the Judge of Passage, which it will do, so long as it is not on your finger. Are you still following?¡± Belmont nodded, but stopped, ¡°Judge of¡ª¡± Melchior interrupted him, ¡°I do not have time to explain it. Trust that I have your best interests at heart. Now, take the ring, and put it in your pocket. Do not wear it until you are in the next world.¡± He hesitated, his gaze hardening. ¡°The laws forbid taking anything not of your world. That ring is a violation. If they catch you, they won¡¯t ask questions¡ªthey¡¯ll simply ensure you never existed.¡± Bel reached out shakily and took the ring. He slid it into his pocket carefully and looked back at Melchior. ¡°Good. I am sorry that I cannot tell you more. You are already going to be greatly disadvantaged, but I believe in you. You must survive. We are running out of time, I¡¯m afraid. The last thing that I must tell you is that it is absolutely imperative that you remain quiet in front of the Judge.¡± ¡°Ok.¡± Bel nodded, but his mind swam. ¡°Good. Remember, Belmont. I believe in you. I trust you will do the right thing.¡± There was something in that, something behind what the man said, but Bel couldn¡¯t grab on to it. The ground shifted slightly below him, and then the world dimmed. He saw the man nod to him, and then, just as the world disappeared, Bel felt an immense pressure wrap around his body, heavy and unyielding. From the encroaching darkness, Melchior¡¯s voice echoed, soft but resolute. ¡°Good luck.¡± Interlude: For Want Of A Monster Rashu pressed his hand against the desk, his seven remaining digits trembling as the withered bones protested. The faint stench of decay clung to the cramped room like a second skin¡ªa reminder of his mortality. On the desk, scattered papers taunted him with their uselessness. Centuries of progress reduced to scratching ink on parchment. He gurgled a mucus-laden sigh and looked back at the stack of documents. He¡¯d read it all before. Hell, he¡¯d written it, but it was worthless. Dead end after dead end. He rose slowly upward, a battle between his rage and failing health, and let loose a hacking cough that nearly sent him back down into the chair. He slammed his fist against the desk and felt one of the fragile bones break. A bone that would never heal again. The fifth metacarpal, he could feel it. He didn¡¯t care. His time was limited by more than just the extent to which he could push his body. Carefully, he positioned the injured hand against his spine and leaned backward. The scales that ran up his tail crunched against the fur of his lower back, pinching and yanking tufts of the thick guard hair free. We were never meant to live this way. Through the Aether, a thin voice interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Dr. Tinopis, Mr. Kerona is asking for you.¡± Rashu felt his lungs deflate. He returned the thought to his secretary, ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll speak with him now.¡± No response came. It never would. A response would be a form of respect. Rashu opened the guards of his mind¡ªreleasing mental locks that prevented intrusive visitors. Visitors like Tybar Kerona. Instantly, his mind was filled with the man. The name saturated Rashu¡¯s mind like an invasive species¡ªTybar: a scorched, lifeless tree; Ke: a fractured world; Rona: an unending lake of fire. The name burned itself into every corner of his consciousness, more powerful than the man himself, but the Draken had a penchant for nominative determinism. A culture based on the belief that if they named their children things that represented grandeur, then that child would be destined for it. Tybar Kerona was nothing of the sort. Middle management of a small Eugenics laboratory, pudgy enough that his scales stretched to show the soft flesh of his underarm. That wouldn¡¯t stop him from shoving his name into every corner of your consciousness when speaking, though. ¡°Mr. Kerona, I wasn¡¯t expecting to hear from you today.¡± Rashu vocalized the words, though he needn¡¯t. Through his thoughts, the man¡¯s voice rolled like breaking waves. ¡°I expected an update from you last week, and I have not received it. Why wouldn¡¯t you expect to hear from me?¡± Rashu felt his stomach twist. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, I am still struggling to galvanize the bonds. The vast differences of the DNA in each subject present a unique and¡ª¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Don¡¯t waste my time, Tinopis!¡± The waves thundered like a storm swell. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir,¡± Rashu quickly apologized. The ocean calmed. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you another chance.¡± Rashu felt his heart skip a beat. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°There has been a change of plans. I am sending you to Eon.¡± Reshu coughed. ¡°Eon, sir? Isn¡¯t that an extinction world?¡± ¡°It is. A group of Aurorium scientists have met with¡­ complications¡­ and you will take a team to continue their research.¡± Rashu could hardly believe it. ¡°Aurorium? I thought we didn¡¯t contract with Guilds.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t. You do. I am granting you an extension for your research while you are there. You will have full access to their laboratory and findings. You will be bound as a private contractor, and your fee will be paid directly to me.¡± Rashu understood what that meant. The thought of a new lab enticed him, though, and one from the largest Guild. He wanted to ask Kerona how he managed to convince the Aurorium to let a Chimeran slave take control of a science outpost on an extinction world, but he thought better of it. Best not to give the man a reason to change his mind. ¡°Of course, sir. It is my great honor to do this for you. If I may ask, what happened to the previous team?¡± ¡°Local flora.¡± Rashu felt the man¡¯s tone change to something almost jovial. ¡°They discovered a new species of plant whose leaves secrete a powerful neurotoxin. Unfortunately, they discovered it the hard way. Unfortunately for them, anyway. From what I am told, they are still alive, though in blinding agony.¡± Botany wasn¡¯t Rashu¡¯s area of expertise, but he could make it work, especially if he was leading a team of botanists themselves. He would spend his time in the lab while the grunts worked in the field. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it, sir.¡± ¡°If you fail¡­¡± Kerona¡¯s tone darkened, each word like the slow grind of stone. ¡°Your people will welcome you back¡ªwhat¡¯s left of you. Many hands make light work, Tinopis. Isn¡¯t that how the saying goes?¡± Rashu could almost feel the iron cuffs biting into his decaying wrists, the weight of the pickaxe he¡¯d never lift again. Rashu bit his tongue. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He drew in a breath. ¡°Is there anything else, sir?¡± ¡°No. You leave in three days. Make your preparations.¡± And, just like that, the voice was gone, taking the fires, and the oceans, and the broken worlds with it, leaving a vacuum in Rashu¡¯s thoughts until he started running through the scenario anew. It was the best news he could ask for. Better than the best. It was unbelievable. While he was classified as a Tier 3 citizen, the economic failure of his homeworld, Nyti, had led to the aggressive merger with another Tier 3 culture, the Drakens. Their planet was now little more than a mining colony for Aether, and all native Chimerans were bound to the Draken until their debt was paid. For many, it was a death sentence. If one couldn¡¯t work, one couldn¡¯t live. Rashu would have been one of those long dead, but for his brilliant mind and his knowledge of Chimeran physiology. Now he worked for the Draken as a scientist and not disposable slave labor. This change of plans would be the breakthrough he needed. Access to high end tech and the nigh unlimited funds of the most powerful Guild in the universe. Freedom, he thought. No more begging for scraps of flesh. No more servitude. His research would empower the Chimerans. His people would take what they needed, as others had taken from them. He clenched his broken hand, ignoring the pain. Whatever the cost, he would be their savior. Chapter 5: The One In Which Bel Gets Into A Fight When Bel awoke, he was enveloped in darkness face down on a floor he didn¡¯t recognize. Slowly pulling himself up on all fours, he could feel the dried saliva stuck between his cheek and the smooth ground. He closed his eyes tightly, then opened and closed them again, repeating the process several times until the world came into view. The best description of his surroundings that he could come up with was like something between a holding cell and the waiting room at a dentist¡¯s office, but only designed for one person. The floor was bare concrete, though it was clean and dirt-free. There was a single chair, lightly padded with high arms and a floral print that reminded him of something his grandmother might have owned. In the opposite corner, there was a small pot. Bel assumed it was a toilet, though privacy had been merely an afterthought. Three of the walls were open, but barred, like a prison cell with an open floor plan. The exception being the wall behind him and the ceiling above, which appeared to be the same concrete as the floor below. Light was sparse, primarily filtering in from the hallway that ran in front of his ¡°cell¡±. It was artificially blue, like dim fluorescent, or what movie directors tell you moonlight looks like. The other rooms next to his were all in the same configuration, but none of them held another person. From the corner of his eye, under the chair, he caught a slight movement. His heart stopped, and he held his breath. It moved again, and Bel bent slowly forward to look underneath. ¡°Meph!¡± Bel realized his voice was gravelly, but he didn¡¯t care. He ran over to the snake and held his arm down. Meph slowly crawled out, flicking his tongue and looking side to side before crawling up Bel¡¯s arm. ¡°Holy shit, bud. I am so glad to see you.¡± Bel ran a knuckle under the serpent''s chin. For the briefest moment, he forgot about everything else. Some small piece of ¡®normal¡¯ had returned. The snake slithered upwards across Bel¡¯s back and found a place hanging over his shoulder, like he would when they would take their walks around his apartment. Bel¡¯s head sank, and he looked at the floor, catching sight of his Blockbuster shirt, and all of his positive thoughts collapsed like a Jenga tower. ¡°Ugh. Fuck me, Meph. Where the hell are we?¡± He hesitated for a moment before stepping towards the front of the cell. There was nothing to block his view in any direction down the hall, and he was sure he was alone, but he still didn¡¯t like the idea of making big movements in the off chance someone was watching him from a camera feed or something. From the edge of the cell, he could get a better view of the hallway and the cells across from him. The others were the same as his; flat concrete, a single chair, a chamber pot, and nothing else. Above each of them, a label: ¡®Humanoid, Tier 0¡¯. Looking up and down the hall, he could see there were easily fifty or more of the cells in both directions before the hall terminated at a door on either end. All of them were empty. He looked back at the label above the cells. Humanoid? Bel risked touching the bars; they didn¡¯t budge. He pushed harder, but they were cemented into place. He turned back into the cell and slowly paced, trying to find any sense to make of this. Then, he smelled it again¡ªthat smell¡ªlike barbecue and smoked meat. It drifted through his cell. ¡°What in the f¡ª¡± His words were drowned out by the panicked screams of a small boy, no more than eight or nine, in the cell next to him. Bel¡¯s head swung around. He was absolutely positive there had been no one in that cell just a moment ago, but he was there now, and there was no way to miss him. The boy was burned. Not a minor burn like Bel used to get in the kitchen, but burned head to toe and covered in charred and smoking flesh. He screamed again, a wail of pure agony, until his lungs gave out. He took another ragged, rasping breath and screamed again. His eyes didn¡¯t look towards Bel, and he wasn¡¯t sure if they¡¯d been damaged by whatever had burned the child, or if he was blinded by pain. The most disturbing part of the child¡¯s appearance, though, was that the clothes were fully intact. Like someone had dressed him after he¡¯d been burned alive. Blood and other fluids seeped through them, clotting and staining, but the clothes were otherwise untouched by whatever fire he¡¯d escaped. Bel ran to the barred wall between the cells and yelled to the boy, ¡°Hey! Hey, are you OK?¡± It was a pointless question, he knew, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say. The child didn¡¯t answer, he only continued his screams. Bel tried to shove his arm between the bars, but the gap was too narrow and the boy too far away. The lights in the hallway brightened, and from the far end Bel could hear the door open, then the sound of shoes jogging on the floor. A moment later, and a gaunt man, taller than Bel, but probably barely out of his teens, stopped at the barred wall at the front of the child¡¯s cell. His clothes were nondescript; a simple white uniform with blue trim. It was vaguely military, but not in an authoritarian kind of way. He held out a hand to the bars, and they separated like a sliding door, but Bel wasn¡¯t able to see any track that they slid on, nor where the seam in the bars was to even allow for a door to appear. The child continued to scream while the man looked at him from the door, seemingly assessing his state. After a brief moment, the man stepped forward and crouched down by the boy, holding his hand out the same way that he did towards the door. Bel¡¯s blood froze in his veins while he watched as the young boy¡¯s flesh turned from the charred pink and red to a clean and healthy whitish-pink. The man stood up, turned, and walked out of the cell without a word, leaving the boy behind, now unconscious. The door slid closed behind him and reformed the cage. Bel listened as the man¡¯s footsteps continued back down the hall until he heard the door close. The lights in the hall dimmed to their low blue again, but Bel barely noticed. He was too focused on the child. ¡°Are¡­ are you OK?¡± Bel¡¯s voice croaked out weakly. There was no response from the child. He looked to Bel to be in a deep sleep, and Bel figured it was probably for the best. Whatever had happened to this kid was more than anyone should have to deal with, and coupled with being locked in a cage¡­ Bel didn¡¯t want to think about the trauma that could cause someone. Meph flitted his tongue, and Bel looked down at him on his shoulder as the snake waved back and forth stretched in the air towards the bars. Bel had almost forgotten he was there, and he pulled the snake slowly back towards him and turned back into his cell. ¡°Where the fuck are we?¡± He walked over to the floral print chair and sat. It was precisely what he thought it would be. Some wooden chair with thin padding under his ass and floral fabric covering it, exactly like something his grandmother would have had. He leaned back in it, looked up towards the concrete ceiling, and drew in a deep breath before slowly exhaling. A few minutes and a much needed mental break later, Bel leaned back up in the chair. The child was still asleep in his cell, and Bel didn¡¯t want to wake him. He decided the first course of action would be an inventory. Take stock of everything on his person, and then work out what to do once he had a better grasp on what was where. He pulled his wallet out. Twenty-six dollars, one credit card with an interest rate that was just barely allowed by law, and his driver''s license, which wouldn¡¯t expire for another two years. He remembered the debit card he was missing, which led to The Glass Slipper, which led to Sera. Bel sighed and shook his head. He wasn¡¯t sure what was going on, or if she was safe, but he hoped she was. Then he felt the ring in his pocket. He went to reach for it, but stopped and thought better of it, remembering the words of the old man, Melchior. He traced his finger around the shape of it in his pocket. It felt unremarkable, like a simple ring. That didn¡¯t stop his heart rate from climbing, though. He took his hand away and tried to push it out of his mind. Sadly, the only other thing he had on himself was his phone, not even his keys. He pulled it out of his pocket and tried to tap the screen to turn it on, but it didn¡¯t activate. He held the power button, and the screen flashed as the phone powered up. The familiar ¡®G¡¯ popped on the screen as it booted, but then the rest of the logo appeared. Where ¡®GOOGLE¡¯ would have once been, it now read ¡®GASPAR¡¯, but still in the blue, red, yellow, blue, green, red text. The fuck? The phone continued to boot, and loaded up the home screen. It was blank, with only a search bar across the bottom. The time read 11:49PM, and the bars showed no service. Bel tried to bring up the app menu, but it was unresponsive. He pressed other parts of the screen and eventually rebooted, but nothing changed. He was fidgeting with his phone when the lights outside of the cell turned red. He looked up and out to the hall, which now glowed eerily. The door to his cell and every other slid open silently. He waited, not sure if he should expect the man in white to reappear, or someone else. Then the alarm sounded. High pitched and warbling, like a World War II klaxon, it drilled into his skull. Bel reached up and shielded his ears while Meph tightened across his shoulders. He looked over at the child, but the boy was still unconscious. Slowly, Bel stood and walked towards the door. He pushed his hand where it would have been, half expecting there to be some kind of force-field or something like Star Trek, but there was nothing. He put his hand through, and then his arm, and then finally took a full step out, monitoring both of the doors at either end of the hall. When no one came, he knew he had to make a choice. As rash as it may have been, he didn¡¯t think about it very long. ¡°Fuck this place. I don¡¯t even know where the hell I am.¡± Bel turned and started down the hall, but then stopped. He thought about the child in the cell. Should he leave him? Was he going to survive? He¡¯d been asleep the entire time, but his wounds were, to put it lightly, gruesome, even if they seemed to have been healed. He looked back towards the boy, still curled up in the fetal position. The only sign that he was alive was the subtle shift in his back as he exhaled. Bel couldn¡¯t do it. He knew it was a dangerous move, but he couldn¡¯t leave him. If he woke up in the cell with his most recent memory being agony and terror as his body was burned away¡­ Bel couldn¡¯t let that be something that anyone had to deal with on their own, kid or not. Bad idea? Probably. But the thought of leaving the boy to wake up alone, after what he¡¯d been through, was unbearable. He walked into the cell and thought about picking him up over his shoulder in a firefighter¡¯s carry, but then he thought about Meph, still tightly draped across him. That wouldn¡¯t work. He gently set Meph on the ground and quickly took off the Blockbuster shirt. Tying one of the bottom corners to a sleeve, he created a small sling and quickly slid Meph inside of it. Then, he worked it across his torso like a messenger bag, and kept Meph up front pressed against his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t get bite-y on me, OK, bud.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. With his new snake holster in place, he bent over and lifted the child. He seemed lighter to Bel than he should be, but he chalked it up to the adrenaline that was crashing through his veins. He stepped back out of the cell and looked at the door in the hall. One was the way the white uniformed man came from, and the other was completely unknown. He opted for the direction of the mysterious man. One last look at both of the cells, no turning back, and he walked down the hall. The door opened outwards, and Bel peeked around the corner. For the first time, he began to grasp where he was. Beyond the door, the hallway stopped in a t-junction, and a walkway ran to the left and right. On the other side of the walkway, there was a small railing and a sheer drop of what Bel guessed was a hundred feet or so. At the bottom of the drop was a large courtyard, and in the middle of that was a central spire-like panopticon that stretched up from the ground to well above the prison walls. Looking up, Bel could see he was near the bottom of the complex, and there were another twenty or more floors like his above him. All circling this massive prison yard and spire, and all with doors wide open like his. High above, the sky was immense, and the inky black night was dotted with stars. Bel drew in a sharp breath as he put his hands on the railing. ¡°Holy shit!¡± On the floors above, and from doors nearest where he was, he could see a steady stream of people all doing the same as him, peering out, gathering their surroundings, and yelling. Towards the courtyard, he heard more shouting, and he looked over and viewed a battlefield from above. There were two distinct forces. Coming from the walls, the prisoners like himself were rushing the central spire from all sides, and from the spire a seemingly unending stream of men in the same white uniform as the previous man appeared. Bel noted that all the prisoners were dressed like himself, in so far as that they did not have any uniforms, just a wide variety of standard clothing. On his left, a man burst from the next door down. He looked left and right, confused and startled, but then saw Bel, shirtless, carrying the boy. There was a moment of indecision, but then he waved towards Bel to follow him. Bereft of any other ideas, Bel jogged towards the man. The two moved down the walkway until they reached an inset hall that turned into a staircase. The man looked back at Bel briefly, and Bel noticed something strange about the man¡¯s eyes. They were purple. Not just the iris, but the entire eyeball. They were cartoonishly purple. The man turned around again before Bel could study them, and he just shook his head, blaming the night and the energy of the moment. Down the stairs, Bel had to steady himself on the railing to not let the weight of the boy throw him off balance. He was continually impressed with himself insofar that he didn¡¯t feel tired after carrying him all this way. He wondered if he was in better shape than he assumed. Absent-mindedly, he reached down and ran his hand along Meph through the shirt. Thankfully, the snake seemed to be happily docile in his carrier. At last on the ground floor, Bel stopped to catch his breath, but found he didn¡¯t really need to. The man he was following didn¡¯t seem to be bothered, either, and they both moved ahead, keeping to the outside of the central ring to avoid the fighting. Bel was now finally able to get a better view of the battle at eye level. The smell of the conflict was overwhelming; blood and sweat, iron and salt. The yells and groans of prisoner and guard were a cacophony of violence. He watched as unarmed prisoners were beaten down by club wielding men in white coats. Some prisoners held their own, going blow for blow, shrugging off the hits like they were being overrun by pool noodles. Others weren¡¯t so stout. An older man who seemed more disoriented than aggressive took a hit to the face and crumbled to the ground, blood pouring from his right eye. Bel was immediately concerned that the man would be trampled in the crowd, but the prisoners moved around him, forming a wide circular area where he fell. Bel saw they did it for anyone who could no longer fight, which was strange to him, but relieving. Unfortunately, it left enormous gaps in their defense, though, which were quickly exploited by the better armed guards. Maneuvering in like worker ants, the guards took every advantage they could, moving in, flanking, and controlling the fight if not with superior numbers, then with a more agile strategy. It was going to be a slow slaughter, but a slaughter nonetheless, and the prisoners were only buying time before they were systematically taken down. Bel felt a knot of hopelessness weigh down his guts. From the spire, another group of guards walked out, though these were dressed in heavy armor, carrying some kind of riot shield, and wearing ballistic padding. Bel watched as they moved as a unit, fanning out but maintaining a barrier, until behind them, another group appeared. These wore the same uniforms as everyone else, but instead of clubs, they carried white staffs. They filed in behind the armor, and all raised their implements. From the tip of the instruments, a white light glowed brightly and crackled like a downed power-line, but only for a moment, before the light blasted outwards. A rush of concussive force washed over Bel, followed by a blinding, pure light. His ear drums pounded, and his eyes felt as though they had melted in their sockets. The cacophony wasn¡¯t a single blast, but a thousand sharp daggers in his ears. A few agonizing moments passed before the pain waned, and the sounds of battle returned, but now accompanied by a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He looked up just in time to see the guards in back raise their staffs and¡­ Bel thought for sure he was deaf and blind this time. There was no world but white light, and there was no sound but pain. The blast nearly knocked him to his knees, and it took several deep gasps to return his lungs to working order. The effects lasted longer this time, or maybe it only seemed that way, but Bel was sure that another blast like that would send him to the ground. What the hell was that? Cautiously, he opened his eyes. The battle had transformed. Most of the prisoners, especially those closest to the wall of armored guards, were on the ground, many bleeding from their eyes and ears while convulsing. They¡¯d taken the worst of it, and it showed. Bel heard a thumping from behind him, like a steam engine train getting fired up, and the clank of chains. The sound rattled up from the ground, creating vibrations that left his legs feeling like jelly. Then, on his right, a man¡ªno, a giant¡ªstepped forward onto the field. Bel estimated him to be at least seven-and-a-half feet tall, and built like Andre the Giant if Andre had skipped leg day and only worked his lats and biceps. Top-heavy was an understatement. The man was eighty percent upper body. He wore nothing but blue pants wrapped in a thick steel chain that hung broken and clanged as he walked. Around his wrists, the other half of the chain dangled from manacles like the Ghost of Christmas Steroids. Last, around his neck and slung across his bare back, another thick slab of steel rested over the knotted muscle. It reminded Bel of a yoke for farm cattle. The man turned and looked down towards him, and Bel thought he had never felt smaller. It was terrifying in a way that he¡¯d never felt before. The man¡¯s size was unnatural. There was something in his eyes, though¡ªanger, to be sure¡ªbut something else. He looked back and forth between Bel and the child, then nodded before speaking with a voice that would ground mountains to dust. ¡°Tonight, all chains are broken. Follow me, kin.¡± Bel didn¡¯t need to be told twice. The other man he had been following before had disappeared into the fray, and Bel hadn¡¯t been sure what to do next. Following the Jolly Green Giant into battle seemed like the most Viking-ass thing to do in the moment, so he nodded and stepped behind the man. The colossal man trudged ahead, appearing to move in slow motion, but his tremendous stride made quick work of the distance between them and the wall of guards. He slowed and reached up around his neck and lifted the yolk from it, brandishing it like his own club towards the guards. Bel watched as the giant called his shot like Babe Ruth aiming for the fences. The guards didn¡¯t waste a moment, and were on him like a swarm of angry wasps. However, for all their effort, they looked like toddlers fighting King Kong. If any blow landed, it was shrugged off. If any guard got too close, he was knocked swiftly to the side by a well-placed blow off the yoke. Bel watched the merciless beating of the guards until, one by one, they all fell to the might of the giant, bloodied and broken in heaps at his feet. Bel was in awe. With the light work out of the way, the big man turned towards the heavily armored guards. Bel looked behind the phalanx, wondering what had happened to the staff-wielding flash-bangers, but they were nowhere to be seen. The guards tightened their formation, locking into place like an impenetrable wall. The giant swung his yoke against the blockade, but it only rattled off of their shields like an out of tune xylophone. He raised the yoke above him and brought it down with all the momentum of the previous swing, and the central guards raised their shields up for protection. It was the exact response the big man had wanted. He pushed forward into them, bowling three of them over as they were caught off balance and they in turn brought to others down to the ground with them. That was enough to upset the formation, and the giant went to work. He brought the yoke down, again and again, crushing their armor like aluminum cans. Behind the giant, and behind Bel, the prisoners left standing began to cheer and yell. The tide was turning. It all went quiet, though, as the doors to the spire opened once again. This time, the guards weren¡¯t in white uniforms, but red as arterial blood, with black fabric masks that hung down their faces like veils. Three of them walked out of the doors like the avatars of death themselves, and Bel felt a wave of unnatural fear wash over him. The crowd behind him screamed, and Bel soon understood their terror. Fire spewed from one of the guards. Bel couldn¡¯t tell from where. There was no gun, no grenade toss, no flame thrower. It was a gout of fire that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in a Vietnam War film. The big man held his ground, though, as the flames passed over and around him. However, as the flames of one died out, another burst of flames started from the others. Bel could only watch. The giant braced himself against the inferno, but they pushed him back as they roasted him alive. Bel glimpsed the man¡¯s face, charred black, cracked and boiling. It reminded him of the child still slung over his shoulder. The flames were unyielding. As one died off, another started up, one after the other, in an unending stream of hell. Seconds felt like eternity as Bel watched, locked in a horrific trance. The giant¡¯s skin melted away, revealing muscles torn and broken, and then the white bone beneath. The big man fell to his knees, but he never screamed. He collapsed in silence, and the fire stopped. For the first time since the battle had begun, there was no sound. Nothing but the sharp ringing in Bel¡¯s ears. He looked at the red suited guards and they stepped forward. A renewed sense of terror collapsed on him like a crumbling building. He stumbled backwards and nearly dropped the boy from his shoulder, but regained his balance. They continued their march, now with eyeless masks locked on him. He braced for the end and watched as the flames leaped from their hands. But they never touched him. The fire stopped a foot ahead of him, as though held by an invisible pane of glass. Bel watched as the flames reached higher and burned hotter, but never closed the gap. He felt the air change¡ªa sudden stillness that cut through the screams and fire. Then, a voice, commanding and thunderous, shattered the silence. ¡°Stand down,¡± it demanded. The red-suited guards didn¡¯t respond, their bodies rigid as if bound by some unseen force. The fire continued to pour from them, unyielding, unthinking. Bel turned to see where the voice had come from. Ten feet behind him stood a young man with long, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. He wore an ornate purple cloak over some kind of garb that Bel had only ever seen worn at Renaissance festivals. The man looked straight out of a fairy tale. One of his hands was held high above his head, and Bel saw rings on his fingers. Five on the hand held up, and five on the hand by his side. They glowed in the same way that Melchior¡¯s had, with some ethereal light that seemed impossibly luminous. The man walked calmly towards Bel, looking at the boy slung over his shoulder. He gave a smirk to Belmont. ¡°I think you should put the child down now.¡± The commanding but gentle tone of the younger man caught Bel off guard, and he slowly set the boy on the ground. The child was still completely immobile, but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The young man turned around to the crowd of prisoners, as well as some guards that had stood back up. The red guards behind him were yet unrelenting with their fire as it continued to be held at bay by some invisible force. He called out, once again his voice demanding attention. ¡°Is this what you wanted tonight? What was your plan? To climb the tower, and then, what? This is a Tier 1 holding. These men behind me are Tier 3. What happens when they send a Tier 5 to settle you all? Go back to your cells. This battle was never yours to win.¡± There was a grumble to the crowd, and to Bel¡¯s amazement, they turned and began walking away. He turned back towards the man, who was now facing the three red guards, standing next to the burning corpse of the giant. ¡°Stand down! On the order of an Advocate of Passage.¡± The guards did not comply. ¡°Stand down!¡± The young man¡¯s voice boomed like thunder with otherworldly authority, but the guards would not relent. ¡°Very well.¡± Suddenly, the flames erupted from where they were held back, but only so far as to reach the man. They washed over and around him, as they had the giant, but he was untouched. In a flash, he produced a short sword from some hidden depths of his cloak. There was a glint of steel and three slashes across one guard. Speed, control, and precision met in one as the blade slid across the soft cloth of the red uniform. The guard fell, though if there was blood, it was lost in the crimson fabric. Then there came three more cuts, as cunning and precise as the former, and the next fell. Three final slashes, and the last guard collapsed by his companions. The young man sheathed his sword into a scabbard that hung hidden in his cloak before turning to Bel. He sighed. ¡°I gave them their chance. Let this be a lesson that zealous dedication is often a one sided arrangement.¡± He looked down at the child and frowned. ¡°Belmont. You did a dumb thing, bringing him here, and there is no nicer way to put it. He, or you, or both of you, could have been hurt or killed. It was stupid. Noble and kind, but stupid.¡± Bel looked down at the child. ¡°I can live with that. Will he be alright?¡± The man smiled. ¡°Yes, he¡¯ll be fine as soon as he gets back to his cell. He has been sedated, nothing more.¡± Bel looked up at the man and judged his young features. There was a kindness, but also cockiness, that curled on his lips. ¡°Who are you?¡± Bel asked. The man just smiled warmly. ¡°I am Balthazar, your Advocate of Passage. Come, we have a judge to convince, and much to answer for.¡± Recap: Melchiors Findings Chapter 1: The One In Which We Meet The Hero After weeks of observation, young Belmont Graham continues to fascinate me as a study in human resilience. His current state is, to put it in the delightful Earth vernacular, "a hot mess." Recently terminated from his position as a restaurant manager, bereaved of both parents within a month of each other, and now abandoned by his romantic partner Monica - yet he maintains a peculiar sort of defiance in the face of despair. His inheritance situation particularly intrigues me; the monetary value seems to have meant less to him than the perceived slight from his parents. This speaks to a deeper sense of principles that may serve him well in the trials ahead. His attachment to his serpentine companion Mephisto demonstrates not only a capacity for nurturing relationships but also an admirable ability to care for something beyond himself even in his darkest moments. The fact that he addresses the snake as though it were a therapist shows both self-awareness and a rather charming ability to find humor in his situation. The earthquakes beginning to shake his world are, of course, merely precursors to what''s coming, but his reaction to them - a mix of practical concern and philosophical contemplation - suggests an adaptable mind. Most telling was his reaction to Monica''s letter. His immediate instinct upon receiving criticism was self-reflection rather than rejection, even if that reflection was couched in profanity. This bodes well for his potential, despite his current state of what I believe humans call "rock bottom." I must say, I''m developing quite an appreciation for these Earth idioms. The way he processes his emotions through anger while maintaining an underlying capacity for growth shows promise. Yes, I believe he may be exactly what we need. Chapter 2: The One In Which An Old Man Asks For Directions I must admit, I rather enjoyed my brief interaction with Belmont outside the Plaid Pantry. His immediate suspicion of my rings was notable - he possesses keen observational skills when not wallowing in self-pity. The look of genuine awe on his face when he saw them twinkle in the sunlight reminded me that humans retain a capacity for wonder that many more "advanced" species have lost. His inherent kindness showed through despite his emotional state; he provided directions without hesitation and declined my offered ring with politeness, though I noted his fascination with them. The zine proved an excellent tool for introducing the first cracks in his reality. Watching him process the discrepancy regarding the Blockbuster store location was particularly illuminating. His certainty about his memories, even in the face of contradictory evidence, shows a strong sense of self that will serve him well in maintaining his identity through the coming transitions. His reaction to the mounting anomalies - the earthquakes, the general sense of wrongness - showed promising adaptability without tipping into panic or denial. Most importantly, he demonstrated curiosity about the unexplained. When I asked about Polaris, he didn''t simply dismiss me as a confused old man but engaged with the question thoughtfully. This combination of kindness and intellectual curiosity, even in a stranger who clearly made him uncomfortable, speaks well of his character. The way he continued to ponder our interaction even as he walked away suggests a mind that won''t easily let go of life''s mysteries - another trait that will prove invaluable. Chapter 3: The One In Which Bel Gets A Drink The events at The Glass Slipper proved more revealing than I could have anticipated. Belmont''s reaction to sudden violence demonstrated multiple facets of his character that will prove crucial in the days ahead. His immediate pursuit of the perpetrator showed not just courage, but a striking disregard for his own safety in the face of injustice. This trait, while admirable, may require tempering if he is to survive long enough to achieve his potential. His interaction with Detective Robber was particularly telling. The barely contained rage at the detective''s apparent bias revealed both a strong moral compass and that infamous temper we''ll need to harness. His decision to walk away, while punctuated with profanity, showed at least some capacity for self-control. The fact that he chose to express his contempt through words rather than actions suggests he isn''t entirely ruled by his anger. The loss of his friend Stephan and the trauma inflicted on Sera will weigh heavily on him, but they''ve also crystallized something in his character. His immediate return to check on others after failing to apprehend the shooter demonstrated admirable loyalty and responsibility. The way he processed the violence - through a mix of numbness and focused detail - suggests a mind capable of functioning under extreme stress.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Most interesting was his interaction with the new bartender, also named Monica. The coincidence seemed to physically pain him, yet he maintained his composure. These moments of crisis often reveal one''s true nature, and Belmont showed himself capable of pushing through personal discomfort to focus on more pressing matters. This adaptability will be essential for what lies ahead. Chapter 4: The One In Which The World Ends Our first true interaction proved most illuminating. In the face of literal world-ending catastrophe, Belmont maintained enough presence of mind to listen and accept the ring, even if he couldn''t fully comprehend the situation. His instinctive distrust was healthy, but not paralyzing - a crucial balance for survival in the multiverse. The way he processed the end of his world was particularly interesting. Rather than falling into complete denial or hysteria, he seemed to enter a state of suspended disbelief that allowed him to continue functioning. This psychological defense mechanism may prove invaluable in helping him adapt to his new reality. His ability to focus on immediate concerns - like Mephisto''s safety - rather than becoming paralyzed by the enormity of what was happening showed promising pragmatism. The survival of Mephisto was an unexpected boon; their bond may prove crucial in the trials ahead. The fact that Belmont''s first clear thought was concern for his companion speaks to a capacity for care that many lose in times of crisis. His acceptance of my cryptic warnings and instructions, while clearly struggling with their implications, demonstrated an admirable balance between skepticism and necessary trust. The moment before the final flash was particularly telling - his attempt to process everything while maintaining his composure, even as his world literally ended around him. Yes, I believe this combination of practical focus and underlying humanity is exactly what we needed to find. The games ahead will require both qualities in abundance. Chapter 5: The One In Which Bel Gets Into A Fight Watching Belmont navigate the prison riot demonstrated both his strengths and weaknesses in rather stark relief. His decision to save the burned child showed admirable compassion, though perhaps questionable tactical judgment. This instinct to protect others, even at potential cost to himself, is a trait that could either serve him well or lead to his downfall - much will depend on how he learns to balance it with necessity. His makeshift solution for carrying both the child and Mephisto showed promising resourcefulness. The way he assessed the situation from above, taking in the tactical layout of the courtyard and the positions of the combatants, suggests an analytical mind that can function even under extreme stress. His alliance with the giant prisoner revealed an ability to recognize and follow effective leadership - a crucial skill for one who must eventually learn to lead. The scene with the fire-wielding guards was particularly illuminating. Even in the face of overwhelming power, Belmont maintained enough presence of mind to protect both himself and his charges. His reaction to the giant''s death - horror mixed with determination - suggests he can process trauma without becoming paralyzed by it. Balthazar''s intervention was timely, though I suspect Belmont would have found a way to survive regardless. Most telling was his interaction with the child after the healing. His immediate concern for the boy''s welfare, even after the immediate danger had passed, speaks to a deeper capacity for empathy that will be essential in the games ahead. The way he carried himself through the chaos, maintaining focus on his immediate goals while adapting to changing circumstances, bodes well for his future challenges. Final Notes After observing Belmont through these initial trials, I find myself both concerned and oddly hopeful. His tendency toward rash action and his quick temper could certainly prove problematic, yet these very traits may be precisely what''s needed in the games ahead. The universe has quite enough calculating, cold-blooded players already. His bond with Mephisto continues to intrigue me. I''ve observed countless species across innumerable worlds, and there''s something uniquely human about forming such a deep connection with a creature that would typically be considered prey. This capacity for transcending natural boundaries may prove invaluable, particularly given certain... arrangements I''ve put in place. Everything that has happened thus far - the earthquakes, the shooting at the bar, his response to the end of his world - suggests a remarkable resilience. Even in his darkest moments, he maintains that peculiarly human ability to keep moving forward, to face the incomprehensible with profanity and defiance until it becomes manageable. As they say on Earth, "When life gives you lemons..." Though I''m still not entirely clear on what one is supposed to do with these lemons. Make lemonade, was it? Curious phrase. In any case, I believe I chose well. Belmont possesses that particular human combination of defiance and adaptability that has served their species so well throughout their history. He carries within him both the best and worst of humanity - their capacity for compassion alongside their potential for violence, their ability to adapt alongside their stubborn resistance to change. Most importantly, he has that quintessentially human trait of refusing to accept the limitations others place upon him. The challenges ahead will test him in ways he cannot yet imagine. But as I sit here, adjusting my two baseball caps (which I maintain look quite distinguished), I find myself feeling something I haven''t felt in quite some time: genuine optimism. There''s a saying I picked up during my time on Earth that seems particularly apt: "The night is darkest just before the dawn." Let us hope, for all our sakes, that Belmont proves to be that dawn. End of Initial Observations Chapter 6: The One In Which Bel Learns What Kind Of Story This Will Be Belmont sat in the floral print chair in his cell across from Balthazar and eyed him up and down. The man¡¯s flamboyant attire was truly remarkable. A purple velvet cloak tied at his neck by a gold chain, a silk blouse covered by a gold accented vest, all finished by black pantaloons with thick dark gray stripes, tucked inside black leather boots with gold accents. If the whole thing didn¡¯t scream Renn Faire to Bel, he would have sworn the man jacked the wardrobe of a late 90s rap video. Balthazar let out a sigh, ¡°Go ahead, ask me¡­¡± Bel didn¡¯t miss a second. ¡°What¡¯s with the clothes?¡± Balthazar closed his eyes, but then smiled, ¡°It¡¯s called fashion, Belmont. Look it up.¡± Bel snorted, ¡°The Renn Faire reject just meme¡¯d me. Outstanding.¡± He looked down at Meph, curled up on his lap. Bel looked back up and narrowed his eyes. ¡°Seriously. What the fuck is going on?¡± Balthazar ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair. ¡°Well, if you are ready to be serious about it, then I can answer your question. We are short on time, though, so I¡¯ll need you to trust me when I tell you that something isn¡¯t immediately important. We have little time now, but that will change after the meeting with the judge. You¡¯ll have all the time in the world to learn about the minutiae. Deal?¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Melchior basically said the same thing. Deal. First, though: Meph. Is he going to be OK? He doesn¡¯t have his cage, and I¡¯m worried he¡¯s going to get sick.¡± Balthazar nodded and smiled. ¡°That is the good news. Mephisto will be just fine. Allow me to explain a little more about what is happening, and you¡¯ll understand why.¡± Bel let out a long breath, and he felt a little of a head rush. Pure relief. He motioned for Balthazar to continue. ¡°First, as I¡¯m sure Melchior told you, your world is no more. I¡¯m sorry, and you do truly have my condolences for what little they may be worth to you now. Before you let your mind become swarmed with what-ifs, I¡¯ll make it clear to you. Everyone you¡¯ve ever known has perished on the planet. I¡¯m sorry. Your friends, your family, your neighbors and your coworkers. They are no more.¡± Bel only nodded. He¡¯d knew as much already, or strongly suspected it. If all of this was really happening, if Melchior had been telling him the truth, then it was exactly what he¡¯d expected, even if he hadn¡¯t confronted it yet. ¡°It is OK if you need a moment.¡± The weight of it pressed down on him, billions of voices gone, trillions of memories erased. But there was nothing he could do now. He stuffed the grief into a box he wasn¡¯t ready to open yet, and shook his head. ¡°No, I¡¯ll deal with it in my time, and the faster we move on, the less of a chance I have to get lost in it. If what you say is true, I¡¯ll have plenty of time to wallow in misery when this is done. Keep going.¡± Balthazar pursed his lips. ¡°Very well. Let me move on to the next large hurdle. There is no simple way to explain this, but what you¡¯ve known as magic is real.¡± Bel chuckled. ¡°Ok, sure.¡± Balthazar held up a ringed hand and flattened his palm, facing upwards. Flames danced and flickered, then extinguished in a wisp of smoke. A formation of a perfect crystal of ice appeared in place of the flames, and fog billowed from the surface. It melted, and a bolt of white light crackled and sparked where it had been, before dissipating into a puff of ozone. Bel swallowed hard. ¡°So, the men in red with the fire, and the others with the flashes of light?¡± The battle in the courtyard was still fresh enough in his mind that he could smell the blood. ¡°Precisely. That was magic. I¡¯ll explain¡­¡± Balthazar started pacing back and forth across the concrete floor. ¡°You are from a world that was classified as a Tier 0 world. It was not always that way, but for the last several hundred years, it has been. The classification comes from the ability of the world to produce Aether, or what the scientists of Earth called ¡®Dark Energy¡¯ or ¡®Dark Matter¡¯. There is a reason that it was so hard for them to prove. It was nearly non-existent in and around your world. In the greater universe, though, it is much more prevalent. ¡°Aether is what forms the building blocks of our way of life. It is the essence of power and energy and what allows what you see as ¡®magic¡¯ to exist. Think of it as a currency, or valuable commodity, and the more a planet produces, the more it is worth, and the higher the tier it is. However, worlds can be strip mined, and often are, if they hold little else of value.¡± Belmont stopped him. ¡°And Earth had little else of value?¡± Solemnly, Balthazar nodded. ¡°In some eyes, yes, that was true. Earth was once a Tier 3 or even a Tier 4 world millions of years ago, but it had been strip mined of its Aether over time. Aether attracts Aether. A world that produces it is only drawing from the surrounding universe. However, if a balance is not maintained, then the Aether is depleted before more can be attracted. That is a topic far more in depth than we have time to cover today, though.¡± Belmont nodded. So far, he felt like he was keeping up, if not fully understanding the ramifications.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Aether is more than power and currency. It¡¯s the essence of life itself. Planets without Aether¡ªlike your moon or Mars¡ªare barren, lifeless. Even Earth, as a Tier 0 world, had just enough to sustain life. Now that you¡¯re in a Tier 1 zone, and soon heading to a Tier 3 world, you¡¯ll notice changes. You¡¯ll tire less easily, think more clearly, and even go without food longer than you thought possible. These benefits extend to all creatures, which is why I say that Mephisto is going to be just fine. I dare say he probably feels better now than he ever has.¡± Bel looked down at the snake, curled up against him, and ran a finger along his scales. ¡°OK, so, even if I¡¯m not sure exactly what all of this means, I think I am following along pretty well. What I want to understand now, though, is, ¡®Why me?¡¯¡± Balthazar nodded for a long time before answering. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s the million dollar question. Well, there isn¡¯t an answer you are going to like. The blunt truth of it is that you were in the right place at the right time. Earth wasn¡¯t supposed to have been destroyed. It had millions of years left on the clock. However, something happened, something that Melchior is currently looking into, that moved up that time table. When he found you, it was by pure luck. Your life had fewer attachments, which made this transition easier.¡± Bel scoffed, ¡°Fewer attachments. Right. So, you look for losers?¡± Balthazar looked sternly at him. ¡°No. We look for good people, but being a good person doesn¡¯t always come with a fanbase. If we thought you weren¡¯t the right person for this, Melchior would have found someone else, or no one at all. It was pure luck that we found you, and I mean that. We got lucky.¡± Bel laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment?¡± Balthazar nodded, ¡°You should. Melchior had been looking at you for a few weeks at that point, and he is a powerful judge of character. If he selected you, then I trust his judgement.¡± The words Melchior had said during their meeting rang through Bel¡¯s mind. ¡°I believe in you. I trust you will do the right thing.¡± Bel didn¡¯t enjoy being so out of the loop, but there was a comfort to the words. Something snapped in Bel¡¯s mind. ¡°Wait. So¡­ hold up. You¡¯re an alien?¡± Balthazar smiled. ¡°Yep. Same with Melchior, and everyone else you¡¯ve seen in the last few hours. However, we are classified as humanoid.¡± Bel looked over at the label above the cell across from his own: Humanoid, Tier 0. Balthazar continued. ¡°We are one of the most numerous, but there are many other classifications, and even some that you¡¯ll recognize, like Bestials and Insectoids. Most species on Earth share some genetic overlap with intelligent species across the universe. The reasons are complicated, so you¡¯ll have to look into it¡ª¡± ¡°Later.¡± Bel interrupted. ¡°But, real quick, if you and everyone else have been aliens, how can I understand you? You can¡¯t expect me to believe that the universe is fluent in English.¡± ¡°Not at all. It is a benefit of the Aether. While you don¡¯t have control over it yet, everyone else around you uses the Aether to communicate. Think of it as a universal translator. When someone speaks and uses the Aether, it is translated natively for anyone listening. The same for the listener. If the speaker doesn¡¯t use the Aether, it will interpret the meaning and language of the speaker for the listener. When you have more control over it, you will be able to turn it off and on at will, but for now, you are able to understand myself and others because they wish to be understood. It also allows for the illusion of lip-sync, which is why it looks as though I am speaking English, and for subvocal speech, but that is more advanced. For right now, know that it is what enables you to understand and be understood by others, even if you aren¡¯t in control of it, because everyone around you is.¡± Bel shook his head in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s a lot to unpack, but I think I got it. Keep going, I guess.¡± Balthazar continued. ¡°There is only one last thing to cover with you before we go to see the judge, and that is the matter of your status as the last of your particular species.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Melchior called me a Laster, I think.¡± ¡°Exactly so. You are the last human from earth, the only intelligent species on the planet. Because of that, you have an opportunity to do something incredible. You are a part of the Sovereignty Games. You will be taken to a new Tier 3 world. This one is called Eon, and you will be tasked with becoming its ruler.¡± Bel coughed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Balthazar continued unabated. ¡°If you choose to participate, you can attempt to become the ruler of the world. If you succeed, then you are granted a prize. That prize is the rejuvenation of your entire species based on your genetic makeup.¡± Bel felt light-headed. ¡°Yes. This is the sticking point for a lot of Lasters. Many choose not to participate at all. Take a moment.¡± Bel wasn¡¯t sure how Balthazar could be so plain about it. Of all the wild things he said, Bel could at least disassociate himself with the reality enough to listen along like one of his friends info-dumping Star Wars lore on him. This was different, though. The immediate pressure on him was unrelenting. He closed his eyes tightly and leaned his head back against the headrest of the chair. After a few moments, Balthazar spoke up. ¡°It is a lot to take in, I know. And the decision is yours to make. If you do not wish to take part, then you are free to live out your life in the new world as you please.¡± Without moving his head, Bel spoke, ¡°But you wouldn¡¯t have chosen me if you thought I was just going to find a plot of land and farm into my golden years.¡± ¡°No. We wouldn¡¯t have.¡± ¡°Right. So, now I¡¯m a contestant in Magic Survivor, and if I lose, I take all of humanity down with me.¡± He shook his head, but couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Can you sneak me an immunity idol or something?¡± Balthazar squared his shoulders and looked Bel in the eyes. ¡°The rules are very strict on this part. Neither I nor anyone else may assist you before you arrive on the planet. You may take nothing with you that is not of your home world. Is that clear?¡± Balthazar¡¯s eyes locked, unblinking. Bel felt the panic set in, and he knew he fucked up. He quickly covered. ¡°Got it. No outside help. I¡¯m on my own.¡± Balthazar¡¯s shoulders eased, ¡°Exactly. Now, do you feel you have a grasp on the situation?¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°Not in the least, but you¡¯ve done your best. I¡¯ll just package this all away and deal with it later.¡± Balthazar nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the humanoid way.¡± ¡°Good. Any parting words of wisdom?¡± ¡°Only what I¡¯m sure Melchior has already told you. Do not speak during the hearing. Remain quiet, or you may say something that makes all of this harder on you.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± ¡°Good. Do you have all of your belongings? Your phone and your wallet, right? That should be everything.¡± Bel nodded and then caught the subtle under text. ¡°Yeah, just my phone and my wallet.¡± He lifted Mephisto and wrapped the snake around his neck. ¡°And my snake.¡± ¡°Then let us move on. I¡¯ve met a lot of judges in my time, and none of them have liked to be kept waiting.¡± Chapter 7: The One In Which A Judgement Is Passed Bel walked down the hall slightly offset from Balthazar, while Meph hung around his shoulders, moving about as he flicked his tongue into the strange new air. They¡¯d taken the other door, the one that didn¡¯t lead back to the courtyard. Bel wasn¡¯t sure if that was because of everything that had happened, or because this way was actually faster, but in either case, he wasn¡¯t upset about it. If his cell had felt like a cross between a dentist''s office waiting room and a drunk tank, this hallway was purely institutional. White walls, marble floor, and a steady pattern of fluorescent lights above them. Bel wondered if they were actually fluorescent. It seemed like a strange thing for a magic prison. Were the lights magic? His mind wandered. He tried to stop himself from thinking about the last few hours, but every time he dropped his guard, he found his thoughts returning to the carnage. Small snippets of time looped in his head as he reviewed the scene over and over. The crowd¡¯s screams seemed louder, the giant¡¯s silence more crushing, and the fire hotter every time the memory replayed. It always ended the same way. ¡°Who was the man in the courtyard? The one the red guards killed,¡± Bel asked. Balthazar stopped mid stride, and Belmont nearly ran into him. He turned, waving his long purple cloak around him as he did, and looked Bel in the eyes. ¡°The man was a prisoner. I do not know his name. They are all prisoners.¡± He drew a deep breath. ¡°Because of the shortened time table of the destruction of Earth, you are here in this prison instead of somewhere a little more comfortable, but this was the closest facility with a judge. I arranged for a wing to be cleared out, hoping to ease you into things¡ªand to reach you before anything happened. I wasn¡¯t fast enough.¡± His eyes dropped. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that. You shouldn¡¯t have had to deal with it.¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how much he meant it, but he said it anyway. ¡°He said something to me, though. Tonight, all chains are broken. Does that mean anything to you?¡± ¡°To me? No, but it wasn¡¯t meant for me.¡± Bel wrinkled his forehead. ¡°It was meant for me?¡± ¡°No, not you, either¡ªnot really.¡± Balthazar looked Bel up and down, reading his emotions. ¡°Tell me, did he look like he believed what he said?¡± Bel paused and let his mind go back to the courtyard, and the events unfolded in surreal vignettes. He drew up the memory of the man and he pressed play on the scene in his mind. The giant¡¯s overwhelming stature. The words. His eyes when he spoke them. Bel looked at Balthazar and exhaled. ¡°Yeah. I think he believed it.¡± Balthazar nodded. ¡°If we wish to inspire others, we must first, ourselves, be inspired. What he said wasn¡¯t for you¡ªit was for him. Belief can be a radical thing.¡± Bel recalled his childhood spent in the church and sighed. ¡°Yeah.¡± Balthazar turned and started back down the hall. Bel waited behind a moment, but thought better about asking more. Balthazar pointed to the end of the hall. A set of wooden doors ornately carved in designs and patterns evoking nature loomed over the corridor. ¡°That¡¯s the room for the hearing.¡± Bel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He stopped again. ¡°Hey, Balthazar.¡± Balthazar turned. Bel swallowed, and the weight in his gut shifted. He felt sick. ¡°This isn¡¯t OK, you know? None of this. I don¡¯t like it.¡± He took quick breaths in repetition. ¡°I fucking can¡¯t¡­¡± A look of genuine concern and care came to Balthazar¡¯s face. ¡°I know, Belmont. I know.¡± He put a reassured hand on Bel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re right, it¡¯s not OK. It never is, and it never will be. What I can tell you, though, is that it gets better. Nothing will ever fix what has happened to you, and I won¡¯t bother lying to you saying things like ¡®You¡¯ll move on,¡¯ or ¡®Time heals all wounds.¡¯ That¡¯s bullshit and we both know it. But what happens next, what you do with the power that you¡¯ll gain, that is up to you, and you can make things better¡ªfor yourself, and for everyone else. Instead of telling you to bury this feeling and hide it away, I want you to remember it¡ªremember it forever. It is the most important feeling you¡¯ll ever have. What you feel right now¡ªhopelessness, loneliness, defeat¡ªit won¡¯t go away. But every step forward will be a step away from it, and there¡¯s power in that. Don¡¯t forget this feeling, Bel. Let it drive you.¡± Bel felt tears at the corners of his eyes. Balthazar leaned in and hugged him. Bel wrapped his arms around him and the two men embraced silently in the hall. Bel felt everything melt away. The last day faded from memory, and there was a moment of peace and calm. He felt his breath slow and his heart rate drop. Through the tears, Bel chuckled. He ran his hands over Balthazar¡¯s purple cloak. ¡°Your cape is so soft. Do you dry clean?¡± Balthazar laughed and stood back. ¡°It¡¯s not a cape. It¡¯s a traveling cloak, and it¡¯s very special to me.¡± Bel held up his hands in mock apology. ¡°Hey, sorry. Was it a gift?¡± ¡°Actually, yes, it was. I tell you what, when this is all over, I¡¯ll give you the story all about it.¡± Bel smiled and nodded. ¡°That sounds good.¡± He looked at Balthazar again, and despite the man¡¯s youthful appearance, he held himself as someone twice his age. Bel wondered how much he¡¯d been through in his life to look that way. They continued the last hundred feet down the hall until they reached the door. Balthazar turned and looked back at Bel. ¡°You¡¯re ready,¡± Balthazar said, his voice calm but certain. Bel felt the weight in his chest lighten, just slightly. He nodded. He was. Balthazar pushed both of the doors open with visible effort, though they swung smooth and quietly. Bel looked at the depth of the door. It was half a foot of solid wood, and at least twelve feet tall and half as wide. Each side must have weighed a literal ton. The room beyond was somehow a complete surprise, while also exactly what Bel expected. Wide, well lit, completely empty of people, and mostly empty of everything else. The wood patterns in the door were mirrored as art along the walls, wood carved in relief, depicting scenes of natural beauty. Bel had a friend who did some woodwork, and he knew that even one of the carved chunks of wood on the wall would cost more than Bel made in a year in a kitchen, and there were dozens. The floor layout reminded him of a college lecture hall. It was a rounded room with tiered seating along the outside, and at the center was a table made of the same wood as the doors, with three chairs on one side. Across from the table was the only thing that stood out about the room. It was a large, black monolith of stone that cast a dark shadow over the table. Bel knew exactly what it was for. Balthazar was halfway to the table before Bel had realized he needed to move. He stepped quickly while swiveling his head around the room, taking it all in. Balthazar pulled a chair out from the table for Bel to sit in and then took a seat himself. Now, in front of the black stone, it was even more intimidating. And it smelled. That barbecue smell. He wasn¡¯t sure if he was supposed to be quiet yet or not, but he risked it. He leaned in and whispered to Balthazar, ¡°What is that smell? I keep smelling it. It smells like burned meat.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the Aether. It¡¯s the smell of dark energy and dark matter, or magic.¡± Bel chuckled and shook his head. ¡°I forgot to tell you. I don¡¯t know if our judge will be humanoid or not. If they aren¡¯t, it may shock you. That¡¯s OK, but try not to act on it.¡± Bel exhaled sharply. ¡°What? That¡¯s important! You forgot?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Quiet.¡± Bel went to protest again, but the smell of Aether overwhelmed him. The lights of the room seemed to dim for a moment, or maybe it was just the rush of blood to his head as the first actual alien he¡¯d ever seen appeared before him, standing behind the black stone. The first thing that popped into Bel¡¯s mind was the image of an angel. Not a biblically accurate one, but more like a Renaissance painting done during an acid trip. The being¡¯s body was blue-ish white and made of thick, clotted smoke that dissipated and reformed when it moved. It maintained two arms, but its legs were barely wisps, however, it had a substantial tail that was easily as long as the being was tall. The head was the most alien aspect of it, though. A smooth, featureless face with no mouth, eyes, or nose to speak of, and from the sides of its head, a ring of the smoke wrapped around, giving the impression of a halo. Balthazar rose from his seat, and when he saw the dumbstruck look on Bel¡¯s face, he grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked, half-pulling Bel to his feet. When the being spoke, the clouded face adapted and changed, forming the words with vaporous lips. ¡°Be seated.¡± The words vibrated in Bel¡¯s skull like a jackhammer. Bel dropped into his seat with a thud, and he heard Balthazar groan. There were no eyes, but Bel felt as though the being stared into his soul. ¡°It is your first time seeing one of my species?¡± Bel was silent. Balthazar spoke in his place. ¡°Yes, Your Honor. He has never met one of the Luminis before.¡± ¡°I see.¡± The voice drilled into his ears. ¡°Then it pleases me to be the first.¡± The shock was wearing off, and Bel could swear there was a hint of malice in the voice as it spoke the words. ¡°I am Chasan of the Luminis.¡± Balthazar spoke again, with reverence, ¡°It is our great honor to be among one of The First Victors. This is Michael Belmont Graham. I am Balthazar Appovi et¡¯Sabathiel, his Advocate of Passage.¡± The Luminis let out an indistinct sound Bel took for displeasure, but if it was, Balthazar paid it no mind. ¡°And the serpent?¡± Balthazar looked at Meph, wound tightly around Bel¡¯s shoulders. ¡°And that is Mephisto, a serpent, yes, and a lower species.¡± ¡°And you advocate for its passage as well, I assume.¡± There was bile in the words. ¡°Yes, Your Honor.¡± There was a long pause before the Luminis spoke again. ¡°Very well. State your case.¡± Balthazar bowed his head graciously and started. ¡°Mr. Graham and his pet, Mephisto, are each the last of their species. The planet Earth, as it was called by the indigenous population, was destroyed three weeks ago.¡± Bel blinked. Three weeks? Had he been unconscious that long? It only felt like a few hours since¡­ He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. The judge spoke, ¡°And this Earth was Tier¡­?¡± ¡°Zero, Your Honor.¡± The judge¡¯s laugh was unmistakable, if totally unrecognizable. ¡°A Tier 0 world. Rarely do such worlds produce anything of note.¡± A hint of superiority came through the words that Belmont couldn¡¯t miss. ¡°And you chose a humanoid as your ward?¡± ¡°It was solely populated by humanoids, Your Honor.¡± ¡°I see. A Tier 0 world, populated entirely by humanoids. That explains much about the planet¡¯s¡­ swift demise. The cause?¡± Bel thought the judge seemed suddenly bored. ¡°We are looking into it, but it seems to have been a mining accident.¡± The judge visibly righted. ¡°If it was being mined, then it was claimed. Is a Guild advocating for passage?¡± Balthazar shook his head. ¡°No, Your Honor. The system was under Mythra control, but they did not choose a participant, so under Progression Law 563 sub¡ª¡± ¡°Do not quote the law to me. I am fully aware of it.¡± The voice boomed in Belmont¡¯s head. ¡°I apologize, Your Honor.¡± The head of the judge turned left and right, looking between Belmont and Balthazar. Bel tried to meet the judge¡¯s eyeless stare, but it felt like staring into a storm cloud, his thoughts stripped bare and found wanting. ¡°Very well, let us get on with it,¡± the judge continued. ¡°What is the humanoid¡¯s tier?¡± ¡°Tier 0.¡± ¡°And the serpent?¡± ¡°The same, Tier 0.¡± ¡°A Tier 0 humanoid and its pet? I¡¯m surprised anyone would waste time advocating for such¡­ primitive specimens.¡± Bel coughed, and he felt Balthazar¡¯s hand quickly move to his arm and squeeze. ¡°As a requirement of my continued role as an advocate, I must put forth one candidate on each new extinction world for the Sovereignty Games. Eon will be closed soon, and so I have chosen Mr. Graham.¡± ¡°Ahh, so you have procrastinated, and are now left with little other choice.¡± Balthazar¡¯s tone changed as he seemed to take offense. ¡°Your Honor, I would remind you that the Council itself has seen merit in such advocacy before.¡± ¡°When is the last time a human won the Sovereignty Games?¡± The judge questioned mockingly. Balthazar held up his right hand and extended his pointer finger so that the ring on it caught the light and sparkled. ¡°One-thousand seven-hundred sixteen years ago, Your Honor.¡± There was deep pride in the statement. The judge¡¯s voice rumbled, ¡°Now it makes sense. A humanoid, advocating for another humanoid. I suppose even cattle can have worth.¡± The word ''cattle'' hung in the air, and Bel felt his stomach churn. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to lash out, to say something. Anything. He could sense a change in Balthazar¡¯s mood as well. Something wasn¡¯t right. Balthazar cleared his throat. ¡°I have a special request, if it pleases, Your Honor.¡± Bel could feel the tension between the two. There was a rumbling groan from the judge before he answered. ¡°Very well, I will listen.¡± ¡°Thank you, Your Honor. As both are Tier 0, and from a Tier 0 world, I would ask that they be granted one Tier 1 aspect of their choosing upon arrival.¡± The judge laughed. ¡°Request denied.¡± Bel saw Balthazar¡¯s fist clench. ¡°Your Honor, I do not believe¡ª¡± ¡°You do not make the rules of the Sovereignty game, Advocate. Need I remind you, I am of the First Victors. I hold the game above all creation. I will not have it sullied by giving such lowly creatures an advantage.¡± ¡°It¡¯s hardly an advantage, there will be others there much more po¡ª¡± ¡°Do not test my patience.¡± There was a pause as the judge thought. ¡°I will not grant them power above their own. However, if they agree to be bound, then I will bind them.¡± There was no pause in Balthazars reply, ¡°Agreed.¡± The judge stared. ¡°The haste of your reply worries me, Advocate.¡± Balthazar said nothing. ¡°Hmmm. Very well. The human and serpent are now bound.¡± Bel had no idea what was going on, or what being bound meant, but he went with Balthazar on this one. If the man was confident it was the right move, he¡¯d roll with it. Bel caught the scent of burning meat¡ªstronger now, overwhelming. The judge¡¯s featureless face seemed to blur, its body shifting into a vortex of light and shadow. Something tugged at Bel¡¯s chest, a sharp pull like a fishhook yanking him from the inside out. He gasped, clutching the table, as a warmth spread through his veins. Meph writhed against his shoulders, coiling tighter, then froze. For a moment, Bel swore he heard something¡ªnot words, but a sense. Calm. Cautious. Present. Then it was over. The smell faded, and Bel blinked, his vision clearing. But something felt¡­ different. Meph shifted slightly, and for a brief second, Bel felt not his own emotion, but something else entirely. A flicker of contentment that wasn¡¯t his. The judge¡¯s words interrupted his thoughts. ¡°And now, we must discuss the matter of the riot earlier.¡± Balthazar cleared his throat. ¡°My ward was not involved.¡± The judge cocked his head. ¡°Truly? I have a report that says otherwise. He escaped his cell, kidnapped another prisoner, and then was seen at the forefront of the assault on the Tier 1 Holding¡¯s panopticon. I believe that he would have been immolated by the Tempest Guard, had you not stepped in at the last moment.¡± Bel couldn¡¯t be sure, but he thought he heard Balthazar mutter, ¡°Fuck,¡± under his breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Advocate. Was there something you wished to say? Is the report I¡¯ve been given incorrect?¡± The snide tone of the judge was blatant. Bel felt the muscles in his shoulders tense. ¡°Belmont was not an active participant in the conflict. He left his cell out of confusion, and during the fight, he did not attack.¡± ¡°And the kidnapping? I wonder, did he mean to use the child? For labor? Or perhaps something more¡­ personal? Humanoids are known for their peculiar attachments.¡± That was it. The last straw. The words hit Bel like a slap across the face, and he shot up from his seat, sending his chair skidding backwards. Meph tensed on his shoulders, hissing faintly as Bel slammed his fists against the table. ¡°Hey, fuck you, you fucking cunt!¡± Bel¡¯s voice cracked with fury. ¡°You¡¯ve said a lot of shit, but I¡¯m not going to let you accuse me of that!¡± The silence was so complete that Bel could have heard a pin drop. The air seemed to solidify, pressing down on Bel like a vice. The swirling smoke around Chasan¡¯s form burned brighter, flashes of crimson and gold crackling within. Bel¡¯s vision swam, but he held firm, his teeth bared in defiance. A heat rose around him, subtle at first, but increasing. It came in waves, like standing downwind from a forge. The surrounding air refracted like water in the intensity, and he felt beads of sweat form on his arms and forehead. He choked on the sweltering wind as he breathed it in, but he didn¡¯t care. He was past the point of reason. Through the fumes he wheezed, ¡°Come on! Is that all you got? All that power and you can¡¯t even kill a little Tier 0 Humanoid? Do it, motherfucker! End me!¡± Bel coughed and his lungs burned, but he screamed with all he had left. ¡°END ME!¡± ¡°SILENCE!¡± The judge¡¯s voice cracked like a storm rolling over an endless plain. Bel¡¯s breath hitched, his chest tightening as though a weight had dropped onto it. He collapsed back into his seat, gasping, the air around him finally cooling. His body felt drained, heavy. The judge tilted its head, the swirling halo of smoke glowing faintly. There was a long moment before he spoke again. ¡°This insolence has sealed your fate. For your defiance, a century of penance shall be your burden. You will carry the mark of your disrespect, and your kind will know its place.¡± Bel¡¯s left hand erupted in stinging pain. He looked down at it and watched as a mark was burned into it like a brand. Silvery ink appeared in the wound and soaked through his skin, leaving behind a blackened tattoo of scar tissue. It was a simplified image of the Luminis¡¯ alien head¡ªan oval with a halo. The mark shimmered faintly as though it held a life of its own, its blackened lines sharp and unnatural against his skin. It wasn¡¯t just a brand¡ªit was a condemnation. Balthazar leaned over, ¡°The mark of judgement. Melchior was right about you.¡± Bel almost thought he saw a smile on the young man¡¯s face, but then, everything went black. Interlude: And Now We Wait Balthazar sat down in an office chair he conjured for himself and let out a sigh of relief. The hardest part was over. Well, the hardest part so far. He kicked a leg off the floor and spun himself around in the chair until he got dizzy. After several rotations, he dropped his feet and stopped himself, nearly falling out of the chair, and he giggled like an idiot. ¡°Are you quite finished?¡± The voice of Melchior crept through the room. He spun the chair completely around to look at the man. ¡°Leave it to the Earthlings to create one of the most fun devices in the galaxy and then shove it into an office park.¡± Melchior crossed his arms. Balthazar spun around one more time and stopped himself. ¡°Ok, now I¡¯m finished¡­¡± he paused. ¡°Wait. What are you wearing?¡± Melchior stepped forward and thrust his arms outward. ¡°It¡¯s a coat and slacks I picked up on Earth. I quite like them. And the shoes! The shoes are so comfortable.¡± Balthazar shook his head. ¡°No, not the college professor starter kit¡ªthe hats. Why two?¡± Melchior reached up and pulled the two baseball caps from his head, freeing his wild gray hair. ¡°This is how they were sold. What do you mean?¡± He pulled the hats apart and looked at each individually. Balthazar rubbed his forehead. ¡°You may be the most observant man I have ever known. You can tell me, with precise measurements, the angles of the veins in a leaf you picked up off the ground a hundred years ago. Did you see anyone else wearing hats like that? Couldn¡¯t it be that maybe the hats were sold as a pair because that¡¯s just how bulk commerce works?¡± Melchior placed the hats back together and returned them to his head with a look of defiance. ¡°I think they look good this way. You don¡¯t have to be mean about it.¡± He conjured his own office chair and sat down. ¡°What is the word on Belmont?¡± Balthazar chuckled and shook his head. ¡°You nailed it. He¡¯s got some real anger issues, and he doesn¡¯t have much of a filter, but he¡¯s a good kid.¡± He watched as Melchior smiled and nodded. ¡°And you were right about the hearing. Sort of.¡± ¡°He mouthed off?¡± Balthazar drew in a deep breath and whistled. ¡°Oh, yeah. In his defense, though, the judge was a genuine piece of work. Some Luminis named Chasan. Ever heard of him?¡± Melchior raised his eyebrows. ¡°A Luminis judge in a prison? I bet he was a shitbrick.¡± Balthazar giggled. ¡°Shitbrick?¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Yes, I heard Belmont say it a few times, and I liked the sound of it. What was the ruling?¡± ¡°He was granted passage. That wasn¡¯t the problem. The actual issue was the riot that broke out while he was there. He left his cell and took a kid with him, whom he intended to rescue.¡± Melchior clenched a fist and smirked. ¡°I knew I picked the right one. And the ring?¡± ¡°No problem. I don¡¯t think the judge would have found it anyway, but with Belmont getting in his face the way he did, the judge was completely blind. There was a moment where I thought he might actually try to kill Belmont.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yeah. He screamed for the judge to do it, and I think if I hadn¡¯t been there to witness it, he may have actually done it.¡± ¡°So, I assume there has been a punishment for his ill-timed tongue.¡± Balthazar gave a dire shake of his head. ¡°Not a punishment. He earned himself a mark of judgement.¡± ¡°Branded for all to see. And by a Luminis, no less.¡± Melchior cleared his throat. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll cross that bridge when we get to it.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t all, though. The judge has him in stasis above the planet, where he will be held for the next century.¡± ¡°A century!?¡± ¡°Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it lines up almost to the day with the formal closure of the world. Any time I would have been able to spend with him in training is lost. He¡¯s going to wake up on that planet alone, and there won¡¯t be anything we can do to help him.¡± ¡°He¡¯ll have Gaspar, and that should be enough until we are allowed to return. That reminds me. What of his loyal companion, Mephisto?¡± ¡°They are bound! Can you believe it? The judge himself suggested it after he declined the tier boost I proposed.¡± Melchior shouted, ¡°Ha! Perfect. Well, then, I think we can rest assured that Belmont will do just fine.¡± ¡°I believe so. He¡¯s got his issues, but in the game, he¡¯ll need all of that anger and rage. It is not an activity of good-hearted leisure.¡± Balthazar looked down and twisted the ring on his pointer finger with his thumb. ¡°But a good heart can prevail,¡± Melchior reassured him. ¡°True enough, my friend. But, tell me, what is the word from the guilds?¡± ¡°Sour news, I¡¯m afraid. Mythra is liquidating, hence the rush to harvest the little remaining resources of the Earth. That can only mean one thing.¡± ¡°War.¡± ¡°Precisely,¡± Melchior said. ¡°Looking at liquid assets, they have close to fifty billion in Aether. Not a number to spit at, but not enough to fund a war on their own, either. I don¡¯t know their play, and the rest of the guilds are being tight-lipped about it, but I think this may be the shift we have been waiting for.¡± ¡°Well, we have a hundred years to figure it out.¡± ¡°Even so, let us not dally. Time is fickle in eras of war.¡± Balthazar sighed. ¡°What will you do, then? Go back to the guilds?¡± ¡°Yes, I¡¯m not looking forward to spending more time in those treacherous palaces with lecherous kings, but I believe there is more that I can learn. I¡¯ll press the courtiers and see who else has skin in the game, literally. I have a hard time believing Mythra is acting on their own. And you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do some looking into the other Lasters and the guild representatives on Eon. The Lasters in particular may be a real hurdle for him. If war is coming, I don¡¯t think there is any way to discount a crop of guild sponsored sovereigns. They¡¯ll be trained killers since birth. Without a sponsor of his own, Belmont will be behind the power curve in more ways than one, and all the rage in the universe won¡¯t overcome a skill gap like that. I may not be able to help him directly, but when the time comes, I don¡¯t want to arrive empty-handed.¡± Melchior nodded. ¡°A sound plan. Very well, then, until we meet again, Balthazar.¡± ¡°Safe journeys. Until the next time. I pray there is still a game worth playing.¡± Chapter 8: The One In Which The Games Begin Bel was tiring of waking up in strange places. First the weird fake apartment, then the prison cell, and now a forest in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, or dew, or humid air, or whatever. ¡°At least the locations are improving,¡± he mused as he raised himself up onto all fours, and then to his knees. He padded his hands around his body, checking for broken bones, bruising, charred flesh, or anything else to solidify his altercation with the judge as a real thing that really happened, and then he looked at his hand. It was still there¡ªthe mark that had been burned into his flesh like a brand. It was difficult to make out only in the moonlight, but it was unmistakably there. Ovular with a ring around the top of it, and if he moved his hand just right, the ink seemed to shimmer in the light like reflective tape. He thought about the judge, the heat, and the words he¡¯d said. Had he really meant it? Had he meant for the judge to kill him? At the moment, it seemed like a net positive. He still wasn¡¯t sure what the hell was going on, and he was so tired¡ªso exhausted¡ªthat anything that gave him a break sounded like a good idea. He knew it wasn¡¯t, though. It was his irrational anger working through him. He didn¡¯t want to die, not really, but he also wasn¡¯t sure exactly what living meant anymore. A sudden thought snatched him from his memories. ¡°Meph?¡± Where had the snake gone? He wanted to panic, but something stopped him. Was he out of emotional energy, or was there something else? He looked around. A snake in the forest at night might as well be invisible. He checked around the ground in all directions, hoping to see some slither marks or something. Then he realized how stupid it was to look for snake trails in the underbrush. ¡°Meph!¡± He shouted it this time. From somewhere in the darkness, an animal rustled, and Bel jumped. He shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out his phone. There was another sound of movement, and he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was near him. He aggressively tapped the screen to wake it, but it was off. He held the power button, and it booted. The ¡°G¡± logo appeared, and then the rest of the text. He remembered. ¡°GASPAR¡±. The same logo as last time, and again in place of the standard Google branding. Fucking nothing can be simple, huh? The home screen appeared after a few seconds with only one icon, ¡®Start Here¡¯. He ignored it, went to slide the drop down bar out, but the screen went bright white, blinding his dark-adjusted eyes. He squinted and read the text. ¡°Greetings, Potential Sovereign.¡± Be scrunched his face. ¡°Potential¡­sovereign?¡± He flicked the bottom of the screen to dismiss the blinding white text. ¡°Fuck off, just give me my flashlight.¡± He pulled the notification bar down and clicked on the flashlight button. The tiny LED on the back of the phone erupted into life. He didn¡¯t remember the flashlight being this bright, but he hadn¡¯t ever really used it when it was this dark. It was more for looking under the couch for the TV remote, spare change, or a rogue snake. Now, though, it was a proper flashlight, illuminating all the ground beneath him like a torch. He turned in place, shining it across the nearby trees, looking for anything that might tell him where Mephisto had gotten off to. ¡°Meph!¡± He shouted again. Another rustle from his periphery, and he glimpsed some small blur as it darted past his feet. A moment later, and another flash of movement, as it was caught and quickly wrapped up in the coils of a very familiar Ball Python. Bel watched as Meph tightened his coils around his prey until the small furry thing stopped struggling. Then, the snake opened his jaws wide and consumed it in one go. Bel had never really enjoyed watching Meph eat. He thought it was kinda grotesque, and he¡¯d never fed him live prey, only frozen mice and rats. Seeing him now, moving as fast as he did, scarfing down a live rodent whole¡ªhe was actually kind of impressed. ¡°Well, I guess you haven¡¯t lost your instincts, huh, bud?¡± Bel felt a strange sense of contentment wash over him. He shook it off and looked down at the snake. ¡°Come on, mouse breath, let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t figure out what the hell is going on now.¡± Bel bent over and held his hand out towards the snake. Meph flitted his tongue in the damp night air and slithered over, crawling up Bel¡¯s arm and across his shoulders.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. He squinted and peered off into the dark. ¡°Ok. First off, where are we?¡± Mephisto flitted his tongue. ¡°Right, OK. Phone.¡± Bel unlocked it and looked at the home screen. There was only a single icon: ¡®Start Here.¡¯ Bel tapped it. The screen flashed bright white again as the text appeared. He read it aloud. ¡°Greetings Potential Sovereign. You have been chosen as a representative of your species in the Sovereign Games. Congratulations! As a contestant, you will be granted special privileges, including but not limited to increased progression speed, dominion of your own kingdom, and, if you succeed in the games, the ability to recreate your species in your own image. Continue?¡± ¡°Oh, cool. Recreate my species in my own image. How very biblical of you.¡± Bel shook his head. He understood the words, but they may as well have just been randomly strung together for all the sense they made. He tapped on the ¡®Continue¡¯ icon, and the next screen loaded. ¡°Unfortunately, it seems that you have failed to meet the time requirements to continue your bid for sovereignty, and your kingdom has been claimed by another. If you wish to continue your participation in the Sovereignty Games, you must restore your kingdom and claim it for yourself. Continue?¡± Bel stopped reading and talked to himself. ¡°My kingdom has been claimed by another? I have to restore it and reclaim it? What the fuck is all this shit?¡± He tapped on ¡®Continue.¡¯ ¡°Once you have reclaimed your kingdom, GASPAR¡¯s functionality will be further unlocked. Until then, limited functionality will be available to you. Functions include: Map, Status Screen, Inventory, and an abridged Encyclopedia. For further information on these systems, please open the app on your device. Finished?¡± Bel sighed. ¡°Ok, you know what? That¡¯s actually something I can work with.¡± He tapped ¡®Finished¡¯ and the window faded, bringing him back to the home screen. The ¡®Start Here¡¯ app was still there, but now there were four others: Map, Stats, Inventory, and Wiki. Bel tapped on the ¡®Map¡¯ icon. It was just like any other map app. It loaded a screen that showed a close view of the area he was in, but it was all foreign to him. He zoomed out, and the map expanded, showing that he was on an island in a place called the Leigh Archipelago. He scrolled a little and saw that the body of water to the south, east and north was the Sea of Antik, but to the west it became Antiko Bay. Further west, the Archipelago ended, and a larger landmass came into view, called Prusious. He scrolled over it, but without a frame of reference, it made little sense. He zoomed the map out further, all the way, and the world came into view. There were nine continents of various sizes, though one super continent was divided into three sub-sections. Prusious, the closest to him, was in the map''s northwest. Below it were two more continents separated by a narrow strait; Slocraes and Eqeicis, and south of them another, much smaller, named Ruzira. To the east of Ruzira was another small island continent named Hecrune, and north of it was Ayon. Further west was the super continent that ran from the north to the southern hemisphere. Its northern section was labeled Ezia, the central; Luhen, and the southern; Irin. It was by far the largest, though its livable area was much reduced by the frozen regions in the north and south, and the sprawling desert wrapped across the central section. Lastly. To its west were two more continents; Viquoa to the north, and Rimeth to the south. Bel spent some time scrolling over the map. He was slowly beginning to get a full grasp on the situation. It felt like the time since the Glass Slipper had all been a blur, but now he breathed and took it all in. He was on an alien planet. Completely alien. He could breathe the air, and he wasn¡¯t compressed by excess gravity, but it was something wholly unknown to him. Every time he inhaled, he sucked in new air. He looked back down at the map. None of the continents looked like ones on Earth. If he squinted, he could say that Ayon kinda looked like England, but it was way too large. There was nothing familiar about any of this, and it was terrifying in a way that he couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around. He closed the map and pulled down the notification bar and turned off the flashlight. His light-adjusted eyes were blind in the complete darkness of the forest. He closed his eyes and opened them. There was no difference, so he just stood there and listened to himself breathe. He was so completely overcome with every emotion that he felt nothing. Just emptiness. Loneliness. Then, he felt the cold nose of Meph as the snake rubbed his snout against his cheek, and he cried. He probably could have stood there until he died, crying, feeling sorry for himself, and completely lost. But Meph was there with him. It was like he could feel the snake in his mind. A sense of calm, presence, and contentment. Bel closed his eyes tightly and exhaled a slow breath. ¡°Ok, bud, that¡¯s enough of that,¡± he sniffled. ¡°We¡¯ve got shit to do, right? So, let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t figure out where to go.¡± Bel opened the map app again and zoomed in to the small island. It was unnamed and had no obvious city or settlement. He scrolled and saw that none of the islands did, aside from the main island of Leigh, and its capital city Tothers. What a weird fucking name. The main island was to the northwest of him, so he assumed that if there were a port on this island, it would be in that direction. He turned so that the map adjusted his heading, and he aimed himself towards the coastline. He flipped the flashlight back on and started walking. ¡°Hey, Meph, you¡¯ll let me know if there is some big-ass tiger or something like that stalking us, right? You have some kind of sense for that?¡± Meph flitted his tongue. ¡°I sure hope that means ¡®yes.¡¯¡± Chapter 9: The One In Which A Magic Ring Does Magic Things Bel played a game while he made his way through the dense foliage. He called it, be as quiet as I can, and he was failing miserably. He never thought that he¡¯d appreciate the lack of a need for silent footsteps in his day-to-day life, but now he wondered what would happen if he ever truly needed to be silent. Every twig under his feet snapped and cracked like fireworks. He looked down at Mephisto curled on his shoulder, head resting against his clavicle. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m letting you down, bud. Turns out you¡¯re the stealthy one.¡± Meph didn¡¯t respond. Bel looked down at his phone again. According to the progress he was making on the map, he should be clear of the forest in a half mile or so. At least, that¡¯s what he guessed. Now that he¡¯d had time to really look it over, he saw the map was much less detailed than he¡¯d thought. It was like a two dimensional political map, devoid of any natural landmarks, and only the names of countries and their capitals were laid out on the screen. As he walked, though, the surrounding area filled in, as though he were clearing the fog of war in an RTS game. He didn¡¯t understand how that worked, but he was quickly learning to just chalk things up to magic until he met someone who could answer his questions with something different. The pace was slow, and the half mile was covered at less than half-speed. It didn¡¯t help that Bel kept looking at every tree they passed, seeing if he could identify it, or if it was some kind of alien flora. He spent about ten minutes doing this before he realized he wouldn¡¯t be able to identify a tree on Earth, let alone tell the difference between it and some alien specimen. ¡°I¡¯m just about fucking worthless for this kind of thing, Meph,¡± he muttered. ¡°No fire, no tools, and my first mushroom will probably kill me. You, though¡ªyou¡¯ll be fine. Just promise not to eat me when I¡¯m dead.¡± Meph flitted his tongue. Bel rubbed a knuckle against the snake''s head and then continued on in silence. The night air was thickening around him. He had no idea what that meant, but the cool mist was more chilling than he¡¯d like. Based on the map, he was high in the northern hemisphere, probably around where the Washington-British Columbia border was on Earth. If it was this cool at night, it must be sometime between late spring and late summer, he guessed, assuming seasons worked the same way here. He paused. Are days the same length here? Years? He didn¡¯t like the idea of not knowing how long the night would last. The clock on the phone read 12:26AM. He guessed that he¡¯d been walking for those 26 minutes, and he wasn¡¯t sure if the clock just started at midnight, or if that¡¯s when it really was, and also if the time even meant anything at all. There were too many questions that he just didn¡¯t have answers to. He still wasn¡¯t even fully convinced this wasn¡¯t some insanely elaborate prank from some YouTube channel. ¡°Check out what happens when we dose this guy¡¯s pumpkin spice cocktail with LSD and make him watch disaster movies!¡± Bel wasn¡¯t much for hallucinogens, but he was pretty confident he wasn¡¯t tripping balls on some footpath in central Oregon. The trees thinned out slightly as he was approaching the forest¡¯s edge. A breeze rolled through, salty and cool, and even if he hadn¡¯t had a map, he would have immediately recognized the ocean¡¯s scent. Well, that¡¯s the same, at least. There was a cry in the night, like some kind of bird. It made Bel jump, and he looked around. Up in the trees above him, something moved in the darkness as he passed the light over it, but it was too fast to track. It was the first sign of life he¡¯d seen since the mouse that Meph had eaten. He thought it was strange that there hadn¡¯t even been bugs or more mice, but again he had no idea what to expect in Earth''s nature, so trying to compare this to that was pointless. The tree line crept up into his vision, and beyond he could see flat grass and the beginnings of a dark sky. The canopy above him was still too dense, and he hadn¡¯t been able to get a good look upwards. He walked to the edge of the trees and looked out and around. It was open grassland that slanted away from him over a hill to the east, which, according to the map, should be close to the beach. Cautiously, he stepped away from the forest and killed the flashlight on his phone. Everything was so open. It wasn¡¯t so different from Earth, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel the surrounding expanse. The smell of something like rosemary on the breeze, the chill, crisp night, the damp grass that rose almost to his knees, and then he looked up. ¡°My god,¡± he choked. The stars were so bright and clear. Each pinpoint was like a billion watt bulb to pierce his eye. He spun left and right, staring at them all. When he had turned completely around, his breath caught in his lungs and blood seized in his veins. The moons.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Two of them¡ªtwo moons! One about the size of Earth¡¯s, but the other was probably three times as large or larger. And both of them were marbles of blue and green dotted by wisps of white. It was unmistakable; they were covered in water with defined continents and an atmosphere. Bel dropped to his knees and stared upwards over the trees. He started giggling, and laid back onto the soft grass, completely ambivalent to the dewy moisture that soaked his back and legs. Meph slithered quickly as Bel descended, moving down his arm and then across to his chest. Bel put a hand on him. ¡°Sorry, Meph.¡± He laughed again. ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯m never going to see this again. Not like this, anyway. I only get to see two moons for the first time once, and I want to appreciate it. I need to remember this moment.¡± He couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say. It was so far beyond the realm of possibility to him he was completely stunned. As he lay there, he noticed a faint glow creeping into the sky. At first, he thought it was a star, but it grew larger, warmer. A third moon crested the treetops, smaller than the others, but unmistakably real. ¡°Three moons,¡± he whispered. ¡°Best. Night. Ever.¡± After several more minutes of absolute wonder, he slowly got back up, cradling Meph against him, and then returning him to his shoulders. He put his hand down on his knee and he felt something in his pocket. The ring! He¡¯d completely forgotten about it. Quickly, he reached in and grabbed it, wrenching it free of his pocket and holding it up. It was the first time he¡¯d looked at it since Melchior gave it to him. A simple silver circle, completely unadorned like a wedding band. He turned it in his fingers, looking for any kind of marking, but there was none. He caught sight of something around the interior, though. An inscription. It was too dark to read it, so he took his phone out again and shined a light into it. Alone, we can do so little; together we can do so much. The text was small, but clear and legible. He recognized the quote. It was by Helen Keller. He smiled. If there was anyone that deserved to have their words pass beyond the Earth, she was high on that list. He twisted the ring again and contemplated wearing it. Thinking of ol¡¯ Bilbo and Frodo, and all the trouble that their ring had given them. He knew that wearing it was his choice. The ocean was just over the rise, and if he wanted to, he could chuck the ring into it. He didn¡¯t want to, though. There was something in him he was beginning to understand. This new world, with its three moons and everything else it offered, Bel wanted to be a part of it. Throwing the ring away would just be like hiding his head in the sand and pretending everything would sort itself out around him. He¡¯d never been that kind of person. Without another thought, he slid the ring over his finger, and everything changed. Instantly, the world became more prominent. He was aware. He saw details he hadn¡¯t seen before. The grass blades were small saw teeth. Ocean air moved in and out around him, drawing the smells of the world in a pattern he could discern. Above him, the sky was no longer the simple deep blue of the night, but marbled blue green like waves on a silken cerulean bedsheet. He could hear the surrounding life, even if he couldn¡¯t see it. There was something in the forest behind him. Small. Another mouse. And there were birds, too. Threats. But he was safe. They wouldn¡¯t attack him. He looked at the ring on his hand and saw that he was glowing. Not with light, but there was another sense. He could see heat radiating off his skin, faint pulses along the veins in his hands. When he glanced at his chest, his heart glowed faintly beneath. It was... bizarre. Overwhelming. He dragged the ring off. It felt like tearing Velcro, though, thankfully without the sound. It was attached to him, like it had been partially absorbed into his skin. Once he was free of it, he gasped and shook his head back and forth to clear his mind. The world had returned to the way it was before. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Meph flitted his tongue. ¡°You can say that again, bud.¡± And Bel blew a raspberry in response. He took three breaths and slid the ring back on. The sensations crashed over him again, though he was more prepared this time. The new senses were still jarring, though. He had no idea what to make of it. The ring was interesting, sure, but as far as magical powers went, there were a lot that were better than infrared vision and some trippy colors. For all the caution that Melchior and Balthazar had given him about keeping it secret, he couldn¡¯t see what the big deal was. He¡¯d half expected to levitate into the air and fart thunderbolts, or, as derivative as it was, turn invisible. The more he looked around, though, the more he liked it. The overwhelming sensation soon faded, and it was already beginning to feel natural. He turned the light on the phone off and looked at the screen. He hadn¡¯t looked through anything else yet, and he didn¡¯t really want to start until he found somewhere he could rest and focus on it, but he tapped on ¡°Inventory¡± anyway. A simple screen opened. It listed his clothing: jeans, white socks, gray tennis shoes, gray boxer-briefs, blue ¡°Blockbuster¡± shirt. Then below that: Wallet; with a subsection that listed his ID and credit card. Lastly: Phone, and Ring of the Concordant. Well now, he thought to himself; it has a name. He tapped on it. It brought another window up, showing an image of the ring, its weight (7g), size (19mm), metallic composition (97% Silver, 3% Aetherium), the inscription on the inside of the band, and a red text box that said ¡°Bound¡±. Unfortunately, nothing else was listed. Bel keyed in on the ¡°Aetherium¡±. He remembered Aether was the name of dark energy¡ªthe substance that allowed for the use of ¡°magic¡±. A tiny piece of the puzzle was falling into place. Aetherium was likely some solid form of the dark energy, or dark matter. He nodded his head, happy with even the minor revelation. ¡°Alright, if no one is gonna give me the answers, I¡¯ll just figure this shit out on my own.¡± He reached down and ran a gentle hand along Meph¡¯s back. ¡°First things first. Let¡¯s find somewhere we can rest, then maybe we can sort out what is going on.¡± He smirked to himself. ¡°And figure out who the hell stole my castle.¡± Chapter 10: The One In Which Meph Goes For The Eyes The night wasn¡¯t getting any warmer, and Bel wished he had more than a T-shirt to wear. He also wished that he hadn¡¯t laid in damp grass for fifteen minutes staring at the moons, but decisions were made, and now consequences must be faced, so he tried to keep his mind off of it. He¡¯d been musing on magic for the last several minutes, and he just couldn¡¯t figure it out. ¡°You think I can do magic, Meph?¡± He glanced over at the snake, who had taken up a sentry position on his left shoulder. ¡°Like, can I just do it? Do I need to learn a spell? Oooh, maybe I have to read a grimoire in some arcane language that only devil worshipers understand. That would be fuckin¡¯ dope.¡± Bel had only seen a handful of magic, and there had been no special words, so he mentally crossed out the Harry Potter rules. And that also put the kibosh on Lord of the Rings and a slew of others. Mental magic was what he was betting on. Willing the spell to happen. And if that was the case, maybe he could just do magic now. Like Neo in the Matrix, he only had to believe. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m gonna try it.¡± He squared his stance and struck his best heroic pose. ¡°Hold on to your biscuits, Meph, I¡¯m about to shoot a fireball out of my hands.¡± The snake flitted its tongue. Bel held out a hand, palm facing outwards to the swaying grass in the night before him. He closed his eyes and envisioned what fire would look like if it burst from his outstretched digits. He focused on it, imagining the gout of fire as it spewed across the grassy field. Then, while he maintained the image in his mind¡¯s eye, he shouted, ¡°Fire, go!¡± and winced, as if expecting some tremendous force to blow him off his feet. Nothing happened. His shoulders slumped, and he opened his eyes. ¡°Why did I say that, Meph? Hmmm? Why would I think ¡®Fire, go!¡¯ was going to make any difference?¡± Bel paused, as if waiting for an answer that didn¡¯t come. ¡°Because I¡¯m an idiot, that¡¯s why. A big, dumb idiot.¡± Meph flitted his tongue again. Bel sighed, ¡°I deserved that.¡± He quickly shot a hand outward again, and strained, like he thought he could catch the magic off guard and it would suddenly work for him. It didn¡¯t. Then he tried snapping his fingers, followed by fake gang signs, and he capped it all off with improvised interpretive movement. None of it worked. ¡°Fuck.¡± He rubbed a knuckle under Meph¡¯s chin. ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t need magic. Magic is for losers. I¡¯ve got a snake, and¡­¡± Bel trailed off. He felt something, and he saw Meph turn his head towards the shoreline, still over the hill. ¡°You feel it, too?¡± he asked the snake. Meph let out a low hiss that put Bel on edge. There was some kind of rumble beneath his feet. It was so soft, but it was there. Some aspect of his heightened senses was sending a warning signal up his spine. He felt the ground move again, and he dropped to a squat, keeping his head just above the tall grass. He could see something as it crested the hill, though what, he wasn¡¯t sure. It had the same glow as himself; the red pulsing of heat and blood. However, it was much larger than Bel. As it lumbered up the hill, he kept expecting to get a full view, but every time he thought he¡¯d seen all of it, it would raise up another foot. It was a monster¡ªabsolutely massive. While it was still nearly 50 yards away, his enhanced vision could paint a fairly accurate picture. Whatever the creature was, it was something new to Bel. He wasn¡¯t a zoologist by any stretch of the imagination, but if something like this had been on Earth, it would have been the star of any number of creature features and horror flicks. Covered in white fur, it walked on four legs, and had the slow but powerful gait of a bear. However, it also had a tail, but not a cat or dog tail. It was flat and dragged to the ground behind the beast. Then there was the head. Bear like, but drooping, similar to a bloodhound, and from its mouth protruded two massive curved tusks. The beast stopped and raised its nose up into the air, sniffing and snorting, then it let loose a thundering ¡°hork, hork!¡± like a sea lion with a chest cold. It stood up on its hind legs, now well over eight feet tall, and swiveled its head around, horking more as it sniffed. It looked in Bel¡¯s direction and gently settled back to the ground, never turning its gaze. Bel gasped, ¡°Holy shit,¡± and then immediately slapped a hand over his own mouth. It was too late, though. The bear-walrus started its charge. Four lumbering, colossal limbs worked in unison to bring the beast to speed. It grunted and growled as it moved, coughing out thick clouds of vapor in the frosty night air. As Bel watched it, he saw the color if his infrared vision increase as the monster heated in its full gallop. He fell backwards in shock, but quickly scrambled onto all fours and turned, pushing himself off the turf like an Olympic sprinter leaving the block. As he surged off the ground, he felt Meph slide from his neck. There was a moment of paralyzing panic, but it was immediately silenced. He could still feel the snake. Meph was there in his mind. Not speaking to him, but expressing simple emotions. Now, it was calm and assuredness. He thought he understood the scene with the judge now. In the adrenaline laden moment, it was clearing up in his mind. He remembered being bound to the snake, and the snake to him. He hadn¡¯t understood it then, and he still didn¡¯t understand it now, but he felt like this was right¡ªthat this was it. There wasn¡¯t anything to do about it now, regardless, though, and he redoubled his thoughts back to his imperiled escape. He¡¯d never run so fast in his life. Not just because of the tusked horror chasing him, though. There was some added power in his long strides. He felt like he was born to run like this, flat out, pushing as hard as he could in a dead sprint. Every time one of his legs hit the ground, the other was pushing off and launching him forward. His mind raced, not on the monster, but on the path he ran. He was actively searching for smooth ground to cross, swerving around or completely leaping over any small divots or raised earth. To his despair, even with all his increased speed, he wasn¡¯t fast enough, and he could hear the beast closing in on him. He couldn¡¯t look behind himself for fear of stumbling in some half buried hole, but he swore he could almost feel the heat of the monster¡¯s breath on the nape of his neck. Bel yelled, not words, just a guttural scream, as he pushed his legs harder and harder, and they obliged¡ªeach one a small rocket attached to his torso, propelling him forward at a speed he didn¡¯t think possible, not like Barry Allen levels, or even Usain Bolt, but still faster than he¡¯d ever run by a long shot. Ahead he could see the crest of a hill, and some soft glow over the ridge, and he could smell smoke. The light pulsed and danced just beyond the top, and the smell filled his nostrils with each controlled breath. He pushed harder and harder until he reached the top. He would have cheered if there was even a breath of air to spare. The hill angled downward, creating a short, severe cliff slope. Down at the bottom, near where the grass and sand met at the beach, there was a fire, and by it, a crowd of people. As he crested the hill, both parties saw each other at the same time. Four of them immediately stood up, then shouted, raising the attention of the remaining. Bel had no idea who they were, or what they were doing on the beach, but he didn¡¯t care. He was going to give every ounce of strength he had to get to them before the beast got to him. He dashed down the hill, careful to keep his footing as the ground turned from grass to sand. As he approached the small camp, a person, some dark hooded figure, stepped forward ahead of the rest. They raised an arm and extended their palm outwards towards Bel. He only had a moment to think, and he dropped to his knees and slid across the loose sand, letting his momentum carry him. As he did, electricity arched from the figure''s hand, crackling and ripping the air as it passed within inches of his head. It was close enough that Bel could smell the ozone as it split the night in two, and the light left streaks in his vision long after it had passed. Behind him, the creature roared, and ahead of him, the group whooped and yelled in delight.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it There was no graceful way to stop his slide. His momentum was too great¡ªand the sand beneath him too loose¡ªso he fell to one side and rolled several times before coming to a stop only feet from the fire. He was up quickly, though, and looked back towards the creature. It had collapsed near the edge of the camp, fifty or so feet away from where Bel stood. The right side of its body was charred and smoking where the lightning had struck it. Burned hair and scorched fat permeated the night air. Bel watched the as labored breaths puffed from its snout. The rest of the camp slowly moved in around him and the beast, though numbering only seven in total, all seemingly men, and they created a perimeter around Bel and the monster. Bel looked at each of them, expecting some kind of response or comment, but they weren¡¯t focused on Belmont. One man spoke up. He was wearing a chest plate of solid steel, and a long fur cloak that hung nearly to the ground behind him. In his right hand he clutched a short sword, and in his left a rounded shield. ¡°I think you hit it too hard, Seven.¡± His voice was polished and smooth¡ªroyal, even. The man who had fired off the lightning bolt turned and tossed back the hood from his dark gray robe. Bel looked at his face, and saw that he was young, no older than twenty. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s just stunned. Give it a min, it¡¯ll be right back up.¡± Bel looked at the rest of the men, taken aback at the calmness and indifference they all showed him, as though a stranger being chased by a balrus into the camp was commonplace. Two of the other men wore heavy armor, one with a hammer, the other with a short-hafted axe. The fifth wore a simple cloth and carried a bow, looking to be in his middle years, and he stood next to an elderly man in a long, light colored robe with arms crossed penitently. Last, the largest man of all, stood away from the group, keeping his distance from the fray and his features in the shadows, though even the silhouette of him was intimidating. Bel¡¯s observations were interrupted as the beast growled ahead of him. Slowly it stood up, dazed and woozy, and returned to its feet. Almost all the men cheered, with the only exception being the older man, whose demeanor hadn¡¯t changed. One man, the one with the hammer, turned to Bel. ¡°Well, that fucker ain¡¯t gonna kill it¡¯s self!¡± Bel just looked at the man for a moment. He had no idea what to say. ¡°Come on, lad, show us what you¡¯ve got.¡± The men jeered. ¡°Aww, now, he¡¯s just a cub.¡± It was the archer speaking this time. Bel thought for a moment he was referring to the monster, but quickly realized it was a jab aimed at him. The beast roared, and the men all readied their weapons and took up stances against it. It started edging towards them, looking for some escape. Anytime it moved towards the perimeter, the men gathered and shooed it back in. Bel watched as it became increasingly agitated. ¡°He ain¡¯t got a weapon.¡± This was the younger, lightning wielding wizard. The man with the hammer looked at Bel, smiled, and tossed his hammer with an underhand throw towards Bel. It landed in the dirt in front of him with a heavy thud. Bel looked down at it and realized just how large it was. It was like Thor¡¯s hammer, a massive steel head on a short, leather wrapped handle. The beast roared again as it was pushed back to the center of the men. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Bel that they would not let him sit this out. It was like some fucked up game for them. He reached down to pick up the hammer. It was heavy, but manageable. As he lifted it, the men all cheered again. ¡°Kill it, lad!¡± the hammer brother called out. Bel took a cautious step forward, but stopped. He felt something, a presence in his mind. It was Meph. Calm, poised¡­ ¡­striking. The snake darted from the shoreline to the right of the beast. In an instant he was air-born, leaping towards the monster. The serpent widened its jaws and struck at the monster¡¯s eye, clamping down on the soft globe. The monster shook violently and roared. Meph was flung away, back into the grass. Bel felt a flash of pain, but then reassurance. It was all he needed. He leapt forward, hammer in hand, and while the beast was still distracted by the prior attack, he raised the brutal weapon and brought it down. It collided with the head of the monster in a sickening crunch, and the men all cheered like apes. Bel didn¡¯t waste a second, he let the follow through carry the hammer, and then he circled it back around to strike again. He was nowhere near fast enough. The beast swung a claw up at Bel with all the force it had. Luckily, between the damage to its eye and the blow to the head, it was more of a push than an all out punch, but the weight of the paw was still enough to send Bel backwards and onto his ass. ¡°Ahh, that was a bastard of a blow.¡± The archer was running commentary on the side. The bear didn¡¯t react quickly, though, and Bel was able to rush back to his feet. His chest hurt pretty badly, and he winced when he breathed. He looked down and saw that the bear¡¯s claws had gotten a clear shot at him, ripping into his torso. It didn¡¯t seem too deep, but it was deep enough. Blood soaked the torn shirt that now clung to his wounds. He tried to raise the hammer again, but he couldn¡¯t muster the strength. He passed the hammer to his left hand, however, he knew there was no hope for a solid strike with his off-hand. ¡°He ain¡¯t gonna do shit with that hammer now, Julo.¡± The archer echoed Bel¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Not my fault the boy don¡¯t know how to fight.¡± The beast lunged at him, but Bel saw it coming. He dropped and rolled to his left, hoping to avoid unnecessary aggravation to his right side, but it didn¡¯t work, and in the maneuver, he lost control of the hammer that now lay several feet away from him on the sand. Pain shot through his body and sucked the wind out of his lungs. The tusked-bear turned and batted at him, but Bel summoned everything he had to roll away again, though it left him wheezing for breath in lungs that didn¡¯t want to work. He looked up and found that he was at the feet of the older man in the robe. His eyes were weary and tired, and the wrinkles on his face painted a story of hard life and little joy. He reached down and touched Bel gently on the shoulder. There was a rush of chilled water in his veins, and a white vignette around his vision. Instantly, Bel could breathe again. He looked up at the man in shock, but heard the other men booing, and the healer stepped back away from him. Bel jumped to his feet. He felt almost as good as new. No more pain, but the exhaustion was overwhelming him. He checked his wound. It was there, and now covered in dirt, but it was like he¡¯d been given some kind of numbing agent that let his body ignore the trauma. He turned back to the monster as it was preparing for another assault. The booing of the crowd had turned to jeers. Bel didn¡¯t know what came over him, but he yelled at the group. ¡°Hey, you want me to kill this fucking thing? Gimme something better than a goddamned blunt object against a two ton fucking sea bear!¡± The men cheered and whooped. Some of them looked around, as if to see if anyone else would proffer a weapon, but no one did. The beast charged, but Bel was back in it, now, and he rolled off to the right, returning to where he had started in the ring, and the bear thundered past him, fully committed to its charge. From behind, he heard a soft, raspy voice speak. ¡°Take this, fighter.¡± Bel turned and saw the hooded figure that had, until now, stayed on the other side of the fire. He couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face, but a furry, clawed hand held out a long harpoon. He could smell death on the man, and perfume, like rotted meat and decay in a field of lavender. Bel grabbed the harpoon and took it in both hands before turning back to the bear. The men were unusually silent, and the archer gave no commentary. The beast strafed clockwise around the ring, as if sizing Belmont up with the new weapon. He felt like he could sense fear in the animal, and he thrust the harpoon outward in a threatening gesture. The beast backed up, startled. There was a moment of clarity in Bel¡¯s mind, as a memory that flashed back to him. He remembered the giant in the prison yard, and how he raised his yoke to strike down at the riot guards, but then feinted and pushed forward, knocking them down. Bel had a plan. He lunged forward, spear out, towards the bear. The monster, as before, backed up, but he backed towards the perimeter. One man, the man with the axe, swung it at the beast. The blade bit into the bear¡¯s backside, and it howled out in its horking growls. Bel pushed in, pressing the attack again, and this time the bear took the bait. It lunged for him, exactly as Bel had hoped. He stamped to the side as soon as the bear began its charge. The lumbering strides and the weight of the bear committed it to every attack, and it was too late to change directions. Bel easily flanked it, and he studied the bear as it passed. He could see the heart beating within, the deep red thrumming muscle that propelled it across the sand. Dropping his stance and putting all his power into his legs, he pushed up and thrust the spear through the beast¡¯s rib-cage. He¡¯d hit his mark, and the monster fell to the ground, ripping the harpoon from Bel¡¯s hand as it collapsed. It didn¡¯t matter, though; the strike was true, and blood poured openly from the fatal wound. The animal tried to rise, but after several weak attempts, it slumped back to the ground, and only heaved gasping breaths before its muscles finally relaxed and it stopped moving all at once. There was a long moment of silence, and then the men erupted in cheers and laughter. Bel fell to his knees, coughing, and then down to all fours. The world around him dimmed, and then blacked out. The last thing he felt was himself hitting the dirt. Chpter 11: The One In Which Bel Gets Some Good Advice Bel opened his eyes and let the blurry world come into focus, then turned his head and looked around. He was in a tent, some draped cloth over a central pillar that was tied off at several points along the edge. He could smell the sea, still, as well as an open fire and roasting meat. There was a tingle in his mind, like a weak headache. It was Meph, he knew it. When he focused on the feeling, he could sense the snake in his thoughts. As he did, there was an immediate relief, and the headache subsided and was replaced with contentment. He wanted to call out to the snake and make sure he was OK, but he could feel that he was, and that was going to have to be enough. He pressed probing fingers into his ribs, testing for tenderness. The wound was closed, the skin rough where it had been sewn, but there were no bandages or other dressings. A voice spoke from behind him, ¡°Ahh, the champion awakens.¡± Bel rolled over and looked towards the voice. It was the old man from the night before¡ªthe one that had healed him. Dappled sunlight filtered through the roof of the tent, casting speckled patterns across his face. He stepped closer, his expression calm and unreadable. He was still dressed in the same way he had been, though now more completely. The robe, or one like it, was covered by deeply dyed sashes, and on his head he wore some kind of turban-like wrap, though open on the top. He carried a leather-bound book with yellowed, timeworn pages. As he looked at Bel, he closed it and set it on a small table. ¡°Can you speak?¡± he asked. His voice had a subtle accent, something Eastern European or Northern African. Bel had always like accents, and typically they were a hit in the kitchen whenever he used one in the heat of a dinner rush, so he¡¯d learned and practiced several in his time in restaurants. Any time he heard one in real life, he always took a moment to appreciate it. After a moment, he opened his mouth, but his tongue felt like it was glued to his teeth. After some gentle finagling, he worked out, ¡°Thirsty.¡± ¡°Ah, yes, I suppose you should be.¡± The man walked to another table and filled a glass with water from an earthenware pitcher. He walked to Bel and handed it to him. Bel took the cup and looked at it for a moment, but took a drink. It was room temperature and slightly gritty, likely from the sand that blew across the beach, but it was damned refreshing. ¡°Thanks.¡± There wasn¡¯t much more he could think to say. ¡°Think nothing of it. Water is cheap.¡± Bel was puzzled by the man¡¯s words and thought about them for a moment before finishing the man¡¯s thought. ¡°But your services aren¡¯t?¡± The man smiled and bowed his head. ¡°If they were my services, I would offer them freely to those in need. However, my life is not my own.¡± Bel took another sip of the water. It was becoming less palatable the less thirsty he was. ¡°You work for the others?¡± ¡°No.¡± The man shook his head. ¡°I am owned by the King. I have been contracted through the guild to work with them.¡± ¡°Owned? Like a slave?¡± ¡°Yes. A slave. Like you, I think.¡± He pointed to Bel¡¯s left hand and the mark of judgement. ¡°No, this isn¡¯t¡ª¡± Bel started, but the man cut him off. ¡°I know what it is. The others don¡¯t, though I suspect their leader has an idea. It is best for them to believe what they already assume: that it is a slave¡¯s brand.¡± Bel didn¡¯t reply, and the man continued. ¡°You¡¯ll have to learn quickly that information is the second most valuable commodity on Eon, and only slightly below Aether. Do not give it away, because in the end, it will be you that pays the price.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°I hope you do. A secret may not save your life, but spoken to the wrong person and it will certainly take it.¡± Bel chuckled. ¡°Any more proverbs?¡± ¡°For those that listen, I may provide truths. However, as I have said, my life is not my own. I cannot wax philosophical with you, as much as I think we might enjoy it.¡± Bel dropped the subject and moved to pressing matters. ¡°Who are you, and who are they?¡± ¡°I am called Yillie Kilijin, though some call me Prior, and the men here refer to me as ¡®Scalp¡¯. ¡°Well, Prior, it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.¡± Yillie smiled. ¡°If only I were in a position to collect.¡± He lowered his head slightly. ¡°As for the others, they are a group of guild hunters¡ªcontracted mercenaries¡ªthat go by the name Black Lerabo.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Should I bother learning their names, or are they just going to kill me?¡± ¡°They won¡¯t kill you. Quite the contrary. You should already be dead. And I don¡¯t mean the injury you sustained. You are Tier 0, and I¡¯m sorry that I have already given this information to the men, but again¡­¡± ¡°Your life isn¡¯t your own.¡± ¡°Just so. When you fought the Behemoth, you stood no chance. It should have easily killed you, but you moved with the speed of someone a tier higher.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Bel still wasn¡¯t sure about how the tiers worked, or what they actually measured, but based on the warnings of secrecy Yillie had already given him, he didn¡¯t want to asked questions that may lead to answers he hadn¡¯t given, so he kept quiet. ¡°I think that it may have something to do with your agile companion, or the ring on your finger, but it is beyond my knowledge, and the less I know about it, the better for you.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°The men think that you just got lucky. However, now that you are healed, I believe they will want you to hunt with them. I hope that your luck continues.¡± Bel sighed, ¡°Me, too.¡± Yillie walked closer and crouched next to Bel. ¡°I must warn you. The leader¡ªthe one that gave you the harpoon¡ªhe is a Chimeran. His name is Gracious Lust¡ª¡± Bel held up a hand. ¡°Gracious Lust?¡± ¡°Yes. It is a nom de guerre. I am not sure what his true name is. He is ruthless, though, and will not think twice about killing you for an airy word. There were originally eight members of this group. Mind yourself.¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°That seems to be the running theme of the last few days. Everyone is a raging asshole or my literal savior. Nothing in between. I¡¯ll keep my mouth shut. The last time I spoke out of turn, I was given something to remember them by.¡± He clinched and released the hand with the mark of judgement. ¡°I hope you learned your lesson.¡± Bel smirked. ¡°Probably not.¡± He thought back to the note left to him by Monica. ¡°Apparently, I don¡¯t do well with criticism.¡± He winced at the memory. ¡°But, real quick, what did you do to me in the fight? The healing, and then now, with my side.¡± ¡°Your wounds were healed with a healing spell after the fight. I dared not interfere more in the conflict than I already had. In the battle, though, I cast a simple spell. Some people call it Warring Dead, or Painkiller, but its original name was Last Breath. It harnesses the adrenaline in your body to block out pain receptors, allowing you to fight despite life-threatening wounds to your last breath.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°It is a heinous spell, and it has been used to terrible ends by many people, and I¡¯m sure you can imagine the value for those with less than pure morals.¡± Bel took a moment to run through the scenario, and his stomach turned. ¡°Torture.¡± ¡°The worst kind.¡± He shook his head sadly. ¡°Imagine your body being dismembered while you watch, unable to feel the pain or react to it, but fully experiencing the horror as it happens.¡± Bel¡¯s guts knotted tightly. ¡°God-fucking-damnit.¡± ¡°The universe is replete with horrors beyond reckoning.¡± Bel closed his eyes, but all he could see were the images the spell conjured in his mind. ¡°It does not do well to dwell on these things, though. We have a saying in my world, ¡®The sky is blue.¡¯ It means that no matter what you may face, there is beauty to be seen if you look for it.¡± Bel laughed and Yillie looked confused, so he explained. ¡°Sorry, I just keep forgetting you are an alien. You look so human¡ªerr, I guess we all look human, but you look like a human from my world. No weird skin, or crazy eyes, or horns, or anything. You¡¯re just an average guy that I could have passed on the street.¡± Yillie smiled. ¡°You are Tier 0. Were there other species on your planet?¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°No, just us. Well, intelligent species, anyway, though there were questions about some of them.¡± ¡°I see. Well then, I hope you can find the beauty in our similarities and differences.¡± Bel smiled and gave a brief nod. ¡°I will. I¡¯ve been through a lot in a short time, but I¡¯m still here. My life wasn¡¯t great before, and I can¡¯t say it¡¯s improved, but it¡¯s different, and that¡¯s a lot more than I probably deserve, so I¡¯m going to take advantage of it while I can.¡± He looked at the old man. ¡°You seem like a good person, Yillie. If you don¡¯t mind me asking, how did you wind up with this group?¡± ¡°That is a story I do not have time for, and you wouldn¡¯t want to hear it, anyway.¡± ¡°I¡¯m always up for a story.¡± Yillie closed his eyes tightly and slowly breathed. ¡°Maybe one day. Not today, though.¡± He opened his eyes again. ¡°The sky is blue.¡± ¡°It is, and thanks to you, I get to see it.¡± ¡°My pleasure, but I do not know your name.¡± Bel widened his eyes. ¡°Oh! Right! Sorry. I¡¯m Belmont, but my friends call me Bel, and I think you should, too.¡± Yillie¡¯s face drained of color, and his eyes widened in abrupt terror. ¡°Belmont?¡± Bel pursed his lips. The sudden change was so complete and unprompted that he was immediately concerned. ¡°Yeah¡­ Mich¡ª¡± A voice from outside the tent called, ¡°Hey, Scalp. Get out here and patch up Julo. He took a hit while we were hunting.¡± There was a moment of silence while Yillie stared at Bel, and the man from outside opened the flap and looked in. ¡°Scalp!¡± The man looked at Belmont. ¡°Oh, the slave is awake. I¡¯ll get Gracious. Scalp, get out here and do your fuckin¡¯ job.¡± Yillie turned and nodded. As he walked to the flap, he turned back to Belmont, and he could tell that the man wanted to say something, but he couldn¡¯t because of the other man at the flap. What the hell was that about? Bel sat in silence, the weight of Yillie''s words pressing down on him. The sound of the flap lifting jolted him, and the figure that entered made his pulse quicken. He was still covered in a hood, but it wasn¡¯t a robe or a cloak. It was like a sleeveless vest that came up and over his head, completely concealing him. Bel looked at his arms. They were covered in fur, red-orange on the outside of his arms, and white on the inside, like a tiger¡¯s pattern, but without the stripes. His torso was partially exposed and scales covered his abdomen. His legs weren¡¯t furry, but scaley, too, though not the same color as his torso. They had the same color pattern as his arms, and that pattern of scales continued on to his long, lizard-like tail. Bel looked at him, and he couldn¡¯t think of another way to describe what he was seeing other than the creature called Gracious Lust seemed to be a patchwork of other creatures. He remembered what Yillie had called him. A Chimeran. Bel felt his blood slow in his veins. ¡°Ahh, you¡¯re awake.¡± The man¡¯s voice was a hiss, raspy and forced, as though the act of speaking were a struggle. Bel swallowed hard and nodded. The man walked towards him, and Bel smelled it again, the same as the night before, that scent of perfumed death, though now in the confines of the tent, it had tenfold strength. He coughed involuntarily. ¡°Does my scent offend you?¡± Oh, fuck me, Bel thought. ¡°You haven¡¯t met a Chimeran before, then, I assume. Strange, for a slave, as many of my kind are slaves as well.¡± Bel couldn¡¯t clear his mind long enough to formulate a sentence. The stench was becoming unbearable. ¡°We will take a walk. I think you will enjoy the fresh air more.¡± Bel felt his eyes watering. ¡°But first,¡± Gracious hissed, ¡°I think we should get acquainted.¡± He reached into a small leather pouch on his hip and pulled something from it. Bel recognized it¡ªhis wallet. He flipped it open and removed Bel¡¯s driver¡¯s license. ¡°Some kind of identification, I presume. Portland, Oregon. I¡¯ve never heard of it. Is it your homeworld?¡± Bel couldn¡¯t pull himself together enough to correct him, so he only nodded. ¡°Michael Belmont Graham.¡± Each word of Bel¡¯s name was punctuated with an audible sneer. ¡°That is a unique name. I¡¯d never heard it before¡­¡± Gracious paused as if for effect. ¡°I¡¯d never heard it before 30 years ago, when King Michael Belmont Graham took the throne.¡± Bel fought through the stench, struggling to think of something to say, but beyond the noxious odor, confusion and disbelief were all that he could muster. Gracious put the ID away and tossed the wallet back to Bel. It landed in his lap and slid down to the floor. Bel didn¡¯t move for it. Gracious put his hands to the front of his hood and dragged it back, revealing a face half rotted; some animal-like skull partially exposed through blackened, bloated flesh, and two sunken gray eyes. When he spoke, his bare jaw worked with what muscle tissue remained to hiss mocking words through moldy, yellowed teeth. ¡°Do you have some secrets you¡¯d like to share, your highness?¡± Chapter 12: The One In Which Bel Gets A Weapon Belmont knew Gracious was dangerous. If he¡¯d passed him on Earth, just walking by him in broad daylight, he¡¯d have felt it¡ªa cold, instinctual warning. But here, in a foreign forest, the warning wasn¡¯t instinctual anymore. It was a suffocating certainty, as strong as the odor of death that emanated from him. Even with that knowledge, there was nothing he could do to change his situation, so he walked beside him through the morning forest. ¡°I will not kill you, Michael.¡± Bel knew as much, or assumed it, because he was still standing there and not dead already. Hearing Gracious say it, though, did nothing to ease his mind, especially since the words had only been predicated by silence. He was pretty sure the man could tell a Jim Gaffigan punchline and it would feel threatening. Bel also would not tell him he preferred his middle name to his first. ¡°I want to teach you some things about the world, and about my people. We have a little walk ahead of us, and I think that will be a good way to pass the time.¡± Bel didn¡¯t answer. The scent of rot was fading from his nose, finally, but he still hadn¡¯t regained all of his faculties, and the last thing he wanted to do was speak out of turn. This didn¡¯t seem to bother Gracious, and Bel assumed the man was used to silence in those around him. ¡°I am a Chimeran,¡± Gracious started. ¡°At our literal cores, we are a parasitic species. I, myself, am not the creature you see before you, but a much smaller organism that lives within it. What differentiates us from a typical parasite, though, is that we do not seek a living host. In fact, we cannot bond with a living host at all. Instead, we are carrion-feeder. Our portion of the life cycle perpetually rests at the end. We move from host to host, or from body part to body part. When it becomes too decayed, we shed it and graft another.¡± Bel was pretty sure that qualified Gracious as some kind of fucked up zombie thing, but he wasn¡¯t going to bring it up. He also would not say that his knowledge of parasites extended little further than reading Animorphs as a kid and watching a lot of Stargate SG-1. ¡°To you, and many others, our species is viewed as disgusting, depraved and perverse. To think that at one point every part of my body belonged to another living creature¡ªone with hopes and desires of its own¡ªand now I walk in it as if it had always been my own.¡± Gracious stopped walking and turned to Bel. He lowered his head slightly so their eyes were level. ¡°Every one of these people whose flesh I wear is a life I have taken myself. I am not a scavenger, Michael. I am a hunter.¡± He straightened himself and held his arms out as if presenting his body for inspection. ¡°I am a hunter, and these are my trophies.¡± He hissed the final syllable through yellowed teeth. Bel was disgusted¡ªmore so than he thought possible¡ªbut also completely incapable of putting it into words. The man¡¯s pronunciations were like eating food that was entirely bitter. There was nothing to pick apart¡ªno singular aspect to assign blame to¡ªit was all bad. ¡°I can see that you are among those that would look down on my people. I understand. You are Tier 0, and you have met no one like me before. Your ignorance is to be expected, and I will not punish you for it.¡± Bel almost laughed at the absurdity of the comment, but held it back. ¡°Now that you understand a little more about my culture and heritage, there is something else I wish to talk about. Your role in the Sovereignty games.¡± Belmont¡¯s ears perked. He wanted to understand what the hell was going on, but there had been no one to tell him. He hoped Gracious would give him something to go off of. ¡°You are the true Sovereign of these lands. All the Leigh Archipelago belongs to you. The man that sits on the throne now is a usurper.¡± Bel¡¯s stomach turned. He couldn¡¯t get used to the idea that he was supposed to be the one in charge of anything more than a small kitchen. "How can you be sure? Because you saw my ID?" Gracious continued walking. ¡°Yes, partly. What gave it away is the events that followed your arrival in my camp last night¡ªevents that we will discuss in a moment. For now, though, I want to give you a little more information about the Games.¡± Bel nodded, but said nothing. Gracious wasn¡¯t facing him to see the gesture, but continued on anyway. ¡°Usurpers can happen often, or so I¡¯m told. Like you, this is my first Sovereignty Games. How I understand it is that when a Laster like yourself does not wish to take part, they may simply leave their assigned lands and start life elsewhere. Sometimes a Laster will sell their crown for a nest egg, sometimes they simply walk away. No matter what they do, though, they must remain outside the border of their lands. When someone else takes over, they can claim the rights to the land by taking the name of the true Sovereign. Most times, this is all legal, and no one bats an eye. ¡°Occasionally, a usurper does this without conferring with the Laster. That is what happened in your case. Thirty years ago, someone using your name showed up and claimed your throne. For whatever reason, you weren¡¯t around, and so all the powers of that station were granted to them.¡± There was a pause, and Bel took a moment to interject. ¡°Until last night, when I ran into your camp.¡± Gracious nodded, but kept walking. ¡°Precisely. You are within your borders now, so the kingdom is contested. It is not yours yet, so long as the usurper sits on the throne, but neither is it his.¡± Bel sighed. ¡°So, what does that mean for me?¡± ¡°It means that you have a choice. You can take the throne, or you leave the lands. You can, of course, stay if you like, but so long as the kingdom is contested, the reigning monarch will be powerless. He will hunt you down, and he will have you killed.¡± Suddenly, Bel¡¯s vision cleared. His nose filled with the smells of the forest, of the trees and the grass¡­ and smoke. There was smoke ahead. The scent was so overpowering he wondered how he couldn¡¯t have smelled it before. Then something else. He looked at Gracious, walking ahead of him on the narrow forest path. He saw the heat of the man¡¯s body through his clothes. There wasn¡¯t much of it, though. Most of his body was ice cold. Bel traced the thin lines through him and realized what he was looking at. He was looking at the parasite in the body ahead of him. It was like a schematic of nerve endings in a medical drawing. The parasite stretched across the entire body like red streets on a city map. There was no pumping heart at the center of it all, but on the right side of the man, just below the lungs, still tucked in the rib cage, there was a small pulsing nodule. Bel knew he was seeing the true Gracious Lust, the parasite no larger than a golf ball. Lastly, there was a sense of overwhelming danger. Not the danger like he had felt before with Gracious, but something else. Something much worse. It knotted his guts and made the hair on his neck stand on end. It was Mephisto. The snake was nearby, and he was warning Belmont. Bel tried to send reassuring thoughts to the snake, but it wasn¡¯t doing anything to help. Instead, he attempted to push the feelings to the back of his mind. It only half worked. ¡°You¡¯ve gotten quiet, Michael. Is there something on your mind?¡± Shit. Bel panicked and tried to think of something. ¡°No, sorry, I¡¯m just trying to take it all in.¡± ¡°What are you going to do?¡± What am I going to do about what? The usurper king? The smoke in my nose? The snake that is strangling me with panic? Or the six and a half foot parasite in front of me? Bel sighed. ¡°I¡¯m going to go see the King. Maybe there is something we can work out.¡± Gracious lowered his head as he walked. ¡°I see. Well, I¡¯d hoped you¡¯d have a different answer, but I expected this outcome. Let me tell you what happened after your fateful battle last night. ¡°After you passed out on the beach, the good doctor carried you into his tent to tend to. It was then that I took your wallet and ID.¡± The smell of smoke was growing much stronger. There was something else to it, some smell Bel couldn¡¯t place. ¡°What I learned of you, I told to one man, my second in command, the man named Nim Lakakahn. You may remember him as the one dressed in furs and armor with the sword and shield. At first he seemed uninterested in the information, but I was informed later that he left the camp in the middle of the night and returned a short time later.¡± Bel was following what Gracious was saying, but the smoke smell and the panic in his mind were pulling him in other directions. In a weak effort to stay active in the conversation, he responded, ¡°So, he left to pass the information to someone else?¡± Gracious nodded. ¡°Just so. As I have learned, he has passed the information to the King, though it seems to have been incomplete.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Gracious stopped and turned to Bel. ¡°I¡¯m going to show you.¡± He turned back around and walked towards the edge of the path. Bel followed, and the man pushed through the underbrush for a few hundred feet until it thinned. After a little more, Bel stepped out of the forest into the outskirts of a small village. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Stone masonry made up the bulk of the architecture, with thatched roofs hanging low over the walls of small houses and shops. It was like a medieval caricature, straight out of a storybook. Gracious led him around the corner of a house. Belmont looked at the old stone, moss covered and weather worn. There was a small garden on the side where some kind of root vegetable was pushing green leaves through the ground. The smell of smoke was becoming overwhelming now, and as they rounded the front of the house, Belmont found the source. At the center of the town, in a round park like area, a mound of corpses had been stacked, and subsequently burned. At the bottom, charred black flesh turned to ash, where the humanoid remains were completely indiscernible. However, near the top, the bodies hadn¡¯t been so heavily immolated, and Bel could make out their features. Men, women, and children. All of them had been thrown on the pile without care. Their lifeless eyes stared at their surroundings, frozen in their last moments. Bel bent over with his hands on his knees and tried to vomit, but there was nothing in his stomach, so all that came were dry heaves. He looked up as a man trotted over to them. It was the archer, the middle-aged man from the night before, that had been running commentary on the side. He spoke to Gracious in a respectful tone. ¡°The entire village was wiped out, sir.¡± Gracious nodded. ¡°I see. How many in total?¡± ¡°Just over 60. More if you count the children.¡± Gracious looked around. ¡°Are there any left?¡± ¡°One survivor. A man, elderly. Probably survived by not trying to fight back and staying in bed.¡± Gracious nodded. ¡°Well, bring us to him.¡± Bel turned his head away. He couldn¡¯t bear to look at the burning mountain of corpses anymore. Gracious and the archer began walking, and Bel did his best to keep up, but stumbled on muddy cobblestone. ¡°Michael, this is Dinnot Porvo.¡± Gracious pointed to the Archer. ¡°Porvo is the Scout of my group.¡± Porvo turned and gave Belmont an assessing look, but made no gesture. The three continued around the outskirts of the courtyard until they reached a small house. The door had been broken inwards, but otherwise there was no damage. In the front window, a small flowing plant was blooming. Bel stepped into the house after Porvo and Gracious and looked around. It was a simple home. A smooth stone floor, wooden furniture and large padded couch made up the living room. The men moved through into a side room¡ªa bedroom. It, too, was sparsely decorated, with only a dark wood dresser, linen curtains, and a single bed. On the bed, bound by the hands and feet, was an older man, Bel guessed to be in his late sixties. He struggled weakly against his bonds as the three walked in, but the knots proved too tight. His mouth, too, was bound, and muffled yells pushed against the cloth between his teeth. Gracious bent over, and with a furry, clawed hand, pulled the gag from the man¡¯s mouth. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me! Please. I¡¯ve done nothing. I¡¯m old. Please don¡¯t kill me!¡± The man stammered and repeated himself until Gracious pressed a hand to his mouth. ¡°Do you know who the people were that did this?¡± The man¡¯s eyes watered and he clenched them shut before continuing. ¡°It was the King¡¯s men, sir. It was them.¡± Gracious nodded. ¡°And what were they after?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. They didn¡¯t find me in here,¡± the man pleaded. ¡°Didn¡¯t find you? Is that because you were hiding?¡± Gracious was sneering through his skull-like face. The man wept. Porvo interjected. ¡°He was under the bed when I found him.¡± ¡°You are a coward. You hid while those around you were slaughtered.¡± The man cried louder. ¡°Please, no. I¡¯m old. I can¡¯t fight.¡± Gracious scoffed. ¡°Can¡¯t? Or won¡¯t?¡± The man pleaded again, but in a flash, Gracious drew a small knife from his belt and slit the man¡¯s throat. Bel watched as blood poured from the gash, more blood than he thought the body could hold. It just flowed endlessly, while the man gasped and gurgled. Then, after a moment, he, too, was dead. Bel just looked at him while Gracious wiped the blood from the blade on the tattered sheets of the bed. The Chimeran turned to Belmont. ¡°They were looking for you, Michael.¡± Bel met his eyes. They were so dark¡ªso dead. Gracious turned to Porvo. ¡°Have you found the traitor?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. I have him tied up near the burn pile. Thought he might enjoy the smell of his handiwork.¡± Gracious nodded. ¡°Good, let¡¯s pay him a visit.¡± Porvo bowed and led them back through the house. Bel thought about the dead man on the bed. Thought about how a day ago things had been different for him. How it had changed, just because he¡¯d arrived. He shook it from his head and walked through the front door and back out into the street. As they moved, Bel took a moment to study Porvo. The man was in his middle years, with graying hair at his temples, and a black goatee. He carried himself with confidence, and his stride was sure and smooth. It wasn¡¯t until Bel looked at his hands that he noticed something out of the ordinary. He only had four fingers, three and a thumb, on each hand. There were no scars or other marks to show he¡¯d lost them in some accident. Instead, that just seemed to be how his hands were. It reminded Bel that even the humans were aliens to him. They passed several more houses similar to the last until they came to the opposite end of the courtyard from where they entered. Here, strapped to a wooden strut that may have once been used to hold a lantern, was Nim Lakakahn. Like the old man in the house, Nim had been gagged as well, though he did not scream or struggle against his bonds. Bel couldn¡¯t tell if it was pride or resignation, but in either case, the man knew exactly where he stood in the grand scheme. He looked between all three of them, but lingered on Belmont. His eyes were bloodshot and red from being so close to the smoke, and his pupils were wide, circled by brown irises. ¡°Nim.¡± Gracious broke the silence. ¡°Nim, Nim, Nim.¡± He shook his head in mock disgust. ¡°What did you think you would accomplish with all of this? Good favor with the King? Maybe your lands returned to you? An increase in rank?¡± The man stayed silent. Gracious turned to Porvo. ¡°Do you have a knife for Michael?¡± Without a word, Porvo produced a small knife from his belt, twirled it in his fingers, and presented it to Belmont, pommel first. Bel looked at it for a moment, and then slowly reached up to take it. He held it in his hand and it reminded him of a chef¡¯s knife, though balanced more at the grip than at the center. He knew the name of the type of weapon from years of D&D; it was a dirk. A single-bladed, short dagger. There was something to it, though. Something more than a simple weapon. It felt strange in his hands, like it was pulling on him. Gracious looked at the blade and then at Belmont. ¡°That is my gift to you. Your first proper weapon. The steel has been forged with aether.¡± Bel didn¡¯t reply, but just stared at the knife. ¡°I want you to kill Nim. With every strike, the weapon releases aether from itself, from you, and from your victim. Some of it lingers in the wound, some of it is lost¡ªbut some of it seeps into you. And that, Michael, is how power is taken. Over time, as you accrue more aether, you will raise your Tier. However, a single knife will not be enough. You will need at least six pieces of aether forged equipment, one for each of the aspects of combat. Only then can you reliably increase your power.¡± Bel heard everything Gracious said, but mentally he hadn¡¯t moved past the part where Gracious had told him to kill Nim. He couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say but, ¡°Why?¡± It wasn¡¯t directed at anyone in particular. Why did you have these people killed? Why do you want me to kill him? Bel learned that a lot of his life now boiled down to that single word. ¡°Because you are the king, Michael. And a king must be decisive. A king must be ready to dispense with justice when the need arises.¡± Gracious was looking at him now with sunken eyes and a broken snarl of a smile. Bel shook his head. ¡°What? Do you think this means I¡¯ll owe you something? Like, if I kill him and save myself, you¡¯ll have a king in your debt?¡± Bel laughed. ¡°You are just as terrible as him.¡± He pointed at Nim with the knife. The man tensed as the blade came within inches of his chest. Gracious didn¡¯t react. Instead, he nodded to Porvo. The archer knocked an arrow and aimed at Bel¡¯s chest. Behind him and Gracious, Bel could see a familiar shape move through the small village. Mephisto slithered silently across the pavement. He was out of the line of sight of Gracious and Porvo, but Nim must have seen him as his eyes went wide. Gracious saw the man¡¯s reaction and twisted. Porvo instinctively followed, swinging the nocked arrow around towards Meph. There was a single thought in Bel¡¯s mind. Something from outside himself. Less command and more concert. An idea that sprang from the thundering plains of his subconscious. Quick as a lightning bolt and as sharp as a fang. The world slowed. The thought wasn''t his own¡ªit was something deep, primal¡ªand his arm moved before he could process the decision. It stretched out straight, thrusting the dirk forward. The small blade connected and punctured deep into the neck, not of Nim, but of Porvo. In, and then quickly back out. Bel hissed. Porvo fired the arrow, but the shock of the strike caught him off guard, and sent the missile high above the village and into the forest beyond. His bow fell to the ground with a clatter, and grasping fingers stretched to the wound on his neck. Each pump of his heart sent another spurt of blood from the wound, and Bel watched as the red heat of his body dissipated slowly from his extremities. His heart slowed, and he fell to his knees. He clung to the wound, but it was too deep, too precise. It severed the jugular perfectly¡ªirreparably. Gracious turned back to Belmont as the scene unfolded. His snarling smile widened. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you had it in you, your Highness. That was a masterful stroke.¡± His eyes darted between Belmont and Meph as the snake slowly closed the distance between them. Bel wasn¡¯t sure if it was the adrenaline of the moment, or what, but he swore Meph looked a lot larger than he used to. Gracious slowly straightened himself, removing any slouch in his frame and towering every inch of his six and a half feet. ¡°You should know, Michael. A Chimeran cannot be killed. You could strike at me with that dagger, but it would only damage the flesh I inhabit.¡± Bel¡¯s left hand was shaking, but his right, the one that held the knife, was rock solid. He was conscious of the scene, but his mind played out everything as though he were watching a movie. Mephisto sprang from the ground, and Gracious turned to fend off the snake. Everything moved at half speed as Belmont watched the heat in the Chimeran¡¯s stolen form shift from limb to limb as Gracious balanced his energy needs between extremities. Bel watched as the man¡¯s right arm reached out to swat at the snake. He left himself wide open. Bel swept up with the blade, aimed at the upper right section of Gracious¡¯ torso. He slid the point upwards, behind the ribcage from below, and instantly the point of the blade met with the small throbbing nodule of heat buried in the chest cavity. It popped, like a small balloon, sending a flood of red heat throughout the veined map of the Chimeran¡¯s body. Then, without a word or expression, Gracious fell to the ground. His body broke apart in soft squelching pops that reminded Bel of pulling a suction cup off glass. He watched as the heat withdrew from the man¡¯s body and the veins went as cold as the rest of his form. He turned to Nim, still gagged, but with eyes wide in horror. Bel quickly ripped the cloth from his mouth. He leaned in. ¡°You sick son of a bitch.¡± The man, even without the gag, was speechless. ¡°You did this. You are the reason every person in this village is dead. You brought this all down. Every man, woman, and child. Dead. Because of you. You are a fucking disease.¡± Nim coughed and sputtered, ¡°I¡­I¡­¡± ¡°No! You don¡¯t get to make excuses.¡± Bel growled as he pressed the knife to the man¡¯s throat, drawing a prick of blood from the soft flesh. ¡°The men that did this. Where did they go? Towards the camp?¡± Nim¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple slid against the point of the blade as he swallowed. ¡°Yes.¡± Bel didn¡¯t wait for more. He pressed the knife slowly into the neck of the man and drew it back out. Nim choked and gurgled on the blood from the wound that flooded his throat. It reminded Bel of the old man. ¡°This is better than you deserve.¡± He didn¡¯t wait to watch Nim die. He turned and looked at Meph, still on the ground behind him. Instantly, he was overwhelmed with emotions. He bent down and lowered his left hand for the snake. Meph quickly slithered up and onto his shoulder. Bel was right, the snake had gotten much larger during the night. He was nearly double his previous size. He ran a knuckle under the snake¡¯s chin. Meph flitted his tongue. Chapter 13: The One In Which Bel Doomscrolls His Stat Sheet
Bel spent the next hour searching through the houses and other buildings in the village. Half hoping that he¡¯d find another survivor, and the other half hoping that he¡¯d find something useful like armor. Porvo had been right, though. The entire population had been killed, and the ones that had done it had gone through and looted everything they could find. While there wasn¡¯t any equipment left behind, there was a corpse of one of the men, at least Bel assumed it was one of the men. Human, like seemingly everyone else, he had blond hair that had grown sticky and clumped with dark blood. He was wearing leather armor and a plate chest, similar to how Nim had been equipped. Whatever weapon he¡¯d had had been stripped, likely by his comrades, but his armor was all there. Bel crouched down to the man and moved him around as much as he could to get an idea of how to remove the armor. It was a convoluted criss-cross of straps and buckles hidden beneath leather flaps and steel plate. Every time he thought he¡¯d made progress, he¡¯d find another latch that held him back. It took about ten minutes for him to realize that even if he were able to undo all the bullshit holding the armor on the man, there was no way in hell he was going to put it on himself without at least six other hands and a gallon of lube. With a sigh of defeat, he stood back up and gave Meph a head scratch. ¡°So much for my cosplay fantasies.¡± He looked over at Nim, Porvo, and Gracious again, but the only armor they had was what Nim wore, and it was the same as this fallen mercenary. Without the option of any protection, Bel decided his best chance was to race the King¡¯s men back to the camp and hope he arrived in time to come up with a plan. He looked down at the fallen man one last time. There was a patch¡ªsome kind of insignia¡ªon the right pauldron. Bel bent down and snatched it off. It was deep blue with gold trim. He turned it in his hand, trying to figure out the shape. It was a bar, but ripped at one end. Not ripped in the conflict, but as a stylistic choice. He rotated it some more while looking down at it, and it suddenly made sense. Held at an angle, it looked just like a ripped movie ticket. Bel looked at his shirt¡ªhis Blockbuster shirt¡ªand it was damn near identical. The blue wasn¡¯t exact, and it was gold instead of yellow, but it was the same fucking design. He shoved the patch into his pockets. What the fuck? He left the man and slowly walked back to the center of town and the funeral pyre. Something in him told him he should pay his respects to the dead, for whatever it was worth. He looked at each of the faces, one at a time, and took them all in. This was important¡ªnecessary. He imagined what their life was like a day ago. How many of them were married? How many hoped to be. What were their jobs? Were they happy? Was there a nosey neighbor that was spoiling the fun for others? Was there a lie that one of them told another that they¡¯d hoped to be forgiven for? Did they look up at the three moons with the same feeling of awe that he had? He studied each of them like he used to with the pictures in the Glass Slipper entryway. There were so many stories. None of them would be finished. He had to stop himself when he got to the charred face of a child. ¡°FUCK!¡± He clenched his fists and looked up at the bright sky and all the soft pillowy clouds that drifted across it. It was such a beautiful day. It was a day for picnics and lawn mowing and afternoon beers with friends. He looked back to the smoldering dead. ¡°FUCK!¡± He just started screaming at the top of his lungs for as long as they would push out air, and when they stopped, he still tried. He tried until specks of white-gray shit floated around the edge of his vision. He tried until his knees buckled and he nearly fell. He tried until he couldn¡¯t any more. Meph stayed on his shoulders the entire time. The snake was a silent comfort to him. Meph was the only thing he had left. The only evidence that at one time he¡¯d been a normal person. Just a fucking line cook in fucking Portland with a fucking great partner that did too much for his fucking lame ass. All he had was Meph. He let his hands loosen and fall to his sides and composed himself. He looked back to the dead and spoke to them. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, and I don¡¯t know what to say. I¡¯m sorry that you died. I¡¯m sorry for my part in it. I¡¯m sorry that I can¡¯t say that to you in a way you¡¯ll hear.¡± He paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. ¡°I promise you, though, that I¡¯ll do better. I promise you. I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t better this time. I¡¯m sorry it¡¯s too late for you.¡± Bel turned away from the fire. He looked over at the corpses of Porvo, Nim, and Gracious and his lips drew into a snarl. ¡°Fuck you.¡± He let out a deep breath. ¡°Ok, Meph. I¡¯m done with this shit. No more fucking around. I haven¡¯t been taking this seriously, and I need to change that. Fuck waiting for someone to hold my hand and walk me through this shit.¡± Meph tightened up on his shoulders and flitted his tongue. Bel let it all go. He pushed aside his former life, all of his struggles, and all the bullshit that came with it. If it¡¯s a game they want, he¡¯ll play. ¡°Ok. First up, I need information.¡± He pulled out his phone. It had only been a night since he¡¯d last looked at it, but so much had happened that it felt like a week. He unlocked it and smirked when he saw the battery still read 100 percent. On the home screen it was still the same four icons: Map, Stats, Inventory, and Wiki. He started with the first, and tapped on the Map icon. The app opened and showed him the island again, though now with more of it uncovered as he¡¯d been walking. It also showed a marker for the village, but no name. To the north, he could also see the beach where the camp was located, just south of the forest where he¡¯d woken up. Other than that, though, there wasn¡¯t anything new. He closed the app and tapped on Inventory, since he was familiar with that one, too, already. It opened and showed the same listings as before, though with one addition, his Dirk, named ¡°Tier 0 Dirk, Level 2¡±. Bel tapped on it, and more information followed. Name: Dirk Tier: 0 Level: 2 Stat Class: Strength/Dexterity Binding: Bound Weight: 200 grams Composition: Blade (99.99% steel, .001% Aetherium), Grip: (98% leather, 2% natural wax) Creator: Berylmar Horal, Tothers, Leigh Bel read it all over carefully. It gave a lot more information on the dagger than it had on the ring. To double check that hadn¡¯t changed, he went and looked at it, too. It still had the same basic information, but Bel noticed the Aetherium content of the ring was much higher than that of the dagger, at 3% against the dirk¡¯s .001%. He filed that away as something to look into later. He closed the dagger screen again and noticed at the bottom of the list another new item: Insignia of the Army of Tothers. Tothers, Bel remembered, was the capital of the Leigh Archipelago, and also where the person who made his dagger was located. All good leads to follow up on when he wrapped up things here. He went back to the home screen and looked at the two other icons: Stats and Wiki. Of the two, Stats terrified him the most. All of this felt too real to him, and he wasn¡¯t sure why. He was afraid that when he opened it, it would give him a character sheet like D&D and he would see all his flaws and shortcomings in black and white. He held his breath and tapped the icon. It was everything he feared. The first section broke down his base information: Name: Michael Belmont GrahamIf you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Gender: Male Classification: Humanoid Species: Human (Earth) Age: 37 Height: 5¡¯11¡± Weight: 182 lbs Hair color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Skin tone: Pale Peach Bel laughed at the ¡°Pale Peach¡± description. White would have sufficed. Pale Peach seemed like a jab at his Portland tan. He tapped on the NEXT button at the bottom of the page and a new screen loaded. Combat Aspects Archetype: None Subversion: None Tier: 0
Strength Proficiency: 0 Equipment: Tier 0 Dirk, Level 2 Constitution Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None
Dexterity Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None Composure Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None
Wisdom Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None Willpower Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None
Bel looked over each of the stats one by one. They were pretty standard, and laid out across from each other in pairs, denoting that one was an offensive stat, and the other a defensive stat. He paid special attention to the fact that the Dirk showed as equipment, but his regular clothes didn¡¯t. Making a quick assumption, he figured it must have something to do with the knife being partially made of Aetherium. He tapped on the NEXT icon again. Social Aspects
Charisma Proficiency: 0 Equipment: None Insight Proficiency: 0 Equipment: Ring of the Concordant
Companions & Familiars Name: Mephisto Classification: Common Serpent 80%, Bestial 19%, Vulgare <1% Species: Ball Python (Earth) Gender: Male Length: 10¡¯ 2¡± Weight: 5.23 kilograms Tier 1 [More¡­] And that was it. Three pages that summed up everything about him. He looked it all over and laughed. It was all a game. Just one big fucking game. He scrolled through the list several more times, and he got the distinct feeling that this was all laid out in a way to make sense to him, as though this app were translating much more complex ideas into simple concepts for him. He shook his head. It was way too much to think about at the moment. The only things that stood out to him were the equipment listings, and the bit about Meph. The dagger was equipped under Strength, and the ring under Insight. He tapped on the dagger and it brought him back to the Inventory app. It was listed as a Strength/Dexterity weapon. He flipped back to the Stats app and held his thumb on the dagger. It moved with his finger. He slid it down to Dexterity, and it locked in place. He did it again, and tried to drag it to Wisdom, but it just returned to Dexterity when he removed his thumb. He looked over the listing for Meph next. The app listed him as Tier 1, and Bel had to wonder if that¡¯s why the snake had grown so much over the course of the night. He tapped on [More¡­] and it loaded a whole new sheet that looked the same as his, though it listed Meph¡¯s Strength, Dexterity and Insight as Proficiency 1. There were also no equipment listings for him. Bel was pretty sure he understood why. ¡°Fucking wild.¡± He ran a hand across Meph on his back. ¡°You¡¯re getting big, bud.¡± He thought back to Yillie¡¯s words earlier. ¡°When you fought the Behemoth, you stood no chance. It should have easily killed you, but you moved with the speed of someone a tier higher.¡± There was something to that. Moved with the speed of someone a tier higher. Did it have something to do with Meph? Was it part of the bond? Meph curled up tight across Bel¡¯s shoulders and Bel pressed his head backwards against the snake¡¯s newly larger body. He also noted that Meph¡¯s classification was 80% Common Serpent, 19% Bestial, and less than 1% Vulgare. He tapped on Bestial, and it loaded up a new page, but it was mostly blank with the only text being, ¡°Once you have reclaimed your kingdom, GASPAR¡¯s functionality will be further unlocked.¡± A tap on Vulgare returned the same blank result with the same text. Bestial he could make an inference from. Meph was a snake. Snakes are kinda beasts. It links up. Vulgare, though, that was a weird one. If he went with the root being ¡°vulgar¡± then it had two meanings. The first being the adjective meaning of someone who is gross and obscene. Bel smirked. If Meph was vulgar, what did that make him? The second meaning, though, was slightly more interesting. As a noun, vulgar is a common person or language, and the only reason he knew that was because the fire-and-brimstone pastor at his church had called Non-Christian¡¯s a vulgar mob, and then had to retract his words and explain that he meant the other vulgar, as though that made it better. It had always stuck with Bel after hearing it; the vulgar mob. In either case, neither made much sense, and with no more information, it was all conjecture in his head, anyway. There was still so much that he didn¡¯t understand, but he felt like with the stats laid out like a character sheet, he could start making some safe assumptions. He closed out the app and hesitantly tapped on Wiki. The new app opened into a clone of the Wikipedia homepage. Bel let out an exasperated sigh. There was a featured article listed below the search bar: Nim Lakakahn. Bel tapped it and a new page loaded with a picture of a younger Nim on the right-hand side. He read the intro paragraph. ¡°Nim Lakakahn was the patron of the Lakakahn family of Tothers, Leigh, and second in command of the Black Lerabo Guild Sanctioned Hunter Party. His family fell to ruin in conflict with King Graham of Leigh and were¡­¡± While Bel wanted to read further into the man¡¯s history, there were more pressing matters. Each of the keywords on the page looked like a hyperlink, so he tapped King Graham of Leigh. A new page opened, and Bel wasn¡¯t sure if he should be happy or disappointed that there wasn¡¯t a picture of the usurper. There was, however, an image that matched the insignia he pulled off the soldier, and by association, the blockbuster shirt he wore. It was positioned like a hanging banner, with the torn portion of the ticket at the bottom as though the banner was tattered and torn. ¡°King Michael Belmont Graham of Earth, Tier 0. Little is known of the elusive monarch of the Leigh Archipelago. On the third day of Florion, 236EW, King Graham claimed the throne, and continues to rule uncontested. His policies and laws have been called into question by other rulers as barbaric and oligarchical, with some calling him a Mythra puppet.¡± Bel chuckled. He liked this version of Wikipedia. It wasn¡¯t pulling punches. He tapped on Mythra. It felt strange reading his name in the third person, though, and he didn¡¯t like it. Whoever had stolen it was going to have a lot to answer for. A new page loaded, now with a logo for the Mythra Guild. It was a simple design with three red stars in a triangle pattern, with arching white lines between each that connected them in a distorted circle, all of which were on a blue background. It wasn¡¯t hard to make the connection between it and the American flag based on color choice alone, but Bel knew better than to fall into the correlation and causation trap. He read off the intro paragraph for the Guild. ¡°Guild Mythra, ranked sixth in the Great Guild Houses. Specializing in Entertainment, Music and Audio, as well as Spas and Mental Wellness Centers, Mythra has maintained its position as a mid-ranking guild for several millennia. Boasting just shy of 2.8 billion worlds under its banner and a total valuation of 72,781,395,349 Aether, it can account for 6 percent of the total wealth of the inhabited galaxy. However, in the last half of the century, Mythra has made surprising and aggressive changes to their investment strategies, chief among which is the early liquidation of many of their Tier 0 and Tier 1 worlds. These actions have led to discussions that Mythra may attempt a coup of a higher ranked Guild, though, at this point, it is only speculation.¡± Bel stopped reading and reflected for a moment. Mythra was ringing a bell in his head, and he couldn¡¯t remember¡ª He snapped his fingers. ¡°That fucking judge!¡± He couldn¡¯t remember the exact phrasing, but he remembered Balthazar mentioning the Mythra Guild as the owners of Earth, and that Earth had been part of a mining accident. Bel reread the page. ¡°¡­the early liquidation of many of their Tier 0 and Tier 1 worlds.¡± Bel closed the app and slid the phone back in his pocket. That was it. The answer. One of the big Why''s that he¡¯d been pushing out of his mind. Why had the Earth been destroyed? Mythra. Liquidation. Putting it in such neutered terms only pissed him off more. Liquidation. Just another word for wiping us out. Earth wasn¡¯t an accident. It was an asset they dumped. All of this other shit¡ªthis Potential Sovereign shit¡ªit was gonna get pinned to the wall right next to Fuck Up Mythra. Bel had no idea how he was gonna do that, but he figured everything has to start somewhere. He looked back up at the blue sky. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough of that for now.¡± He ran a hand across Meph. ¡°We¡¯ve gotta book it if we are gonna beat the King¡¯s men to the camp. You want to stay on my shoulder, or hop down and go on your own?¡± Meph didn¡¯t move. ¡°Shoulder snake it is.¡± Bel looked around the village once more, back to the dead, and back to the three that he¡¯d killed. The weight of it hadn¡¯t hit him yet. He¡¯d killed three people. Three bad people. Bel didn¡¯t have any regrets. They brought it on themselves. His mind briefly turned to the murder at the Glass Slipper, and the man he¡¯d chased. Would he have done the same to him? Bel figured he had his answer now. The sky darkened above him, and he glanced up. The deep blue that had once dominated the horizon was being covered with roiling, black clouds that billowed in fast from the east. He bent down to the ground and ran his hands through the ash that had been building up at the base of the burning bodies. Once his hands were covered, he stood back up and rubbed it further into his palms and forearms while he looked up at the now overcast sky. If these fuckers wanted him dead, they were going to have to earn it. ¡°Storm¡¯s comin¡¯, Meph.¡± Meph flitted his tongue. Bel started a slow jog towards the outskirts, but stayed out of the forest. Open country would be quicker for movement. Once he was away from the smell of smoke, he pressed the muscles in his legs to move, and they responded with a burst of speed. Chapter 14: The One In Which Bel Takes A Head Count Bel counted thirteen knights, or soldiers, or whatever. Truthfully, he didn¡¯t know what to make of them. They were all decked out in a mish-mash of armor and weaponry, not like bandits, but something else. Some of their armor shone brightly as it reflected the little light that filtered through the clouds, but the other armor on the same man was dinged and bent. It was strange to see, and even more strange that all of them seemed comfortable with it. Bel was stationed at the forest¡¯s edge, roughly two hundred yards from the group. The mix of overcast skies and the tree¡¯s canopy let him feel relatively safe from notice. He looked up at the clouds. The dark pillows had been threatening to rain, but so far had not fulfilled their promise. It wouldn¡¯t make things easier, but he figured if anything, it would be an advantage for the unarmored against the armored. Not much of an advantage, but he¡¯d take whatever he could get. For now, though, he studied, unable to pass up the opportunity for recon. There were obvious ranks, or classes, if he was going to consider this the game it was being sold to him as. Of the thirteen, three were mages, clearly. They carried staves and wore cloth. Bel didn¡¯t want to stereotype, but their lightly colored garb made him think they were healers. Then, there was an even split between the rest. Five wore mismatched pieces of heavy armor and were likely bound for the front line and carried gigantic swords and axes, while the other five wore lighter armor and leather and were skirmishers with short swords or ranged carrying bows. All of them carried some kind of blue and gold, though. It wasn¡¯t just the patch like the dead soldier in the village, but full sashes draped across heavy armor, or gold and blue cloth tied around the arms of the archers. Each of them bore the mark of the king in one way or another. Bel thought about it for a moment and cracked a smile. It was almost a raid party. Not a Viking raid party, but a MMORPG raid party. Healers, Tanks, and DPS. The ratios weren¡¯t what he¡¯d consider standard, but they were close. When he thought about it that way, it actually gave him a little hope. He understood those mechanics. Tanks draw aggro, DPS burns cooldowns, and healers make sure the tanks can¡­ well, tank. The key to breaking this group apart was going to be the lack of healers. With only three casters in their group, and assuming they were all on healing duty, that meant a three to five ratio of healers to tanks. Keeping pressure on the tanks while working over the healers would break them as the healers wouldn¡¯t be able to heal themselves, and the tanks won¡¯t be able to soak as much damage. DPS would still be a problem, but once the tanks and healers are out of the picture, the DPS would scatter. Of course, all of this thought and planning was worthless, without some way to attack. With just himself, the knife, and a ten-foot python, Bel was hopelessly outnumbered¡ªand he had to face it¡ªout-skilled, too. It wouldn¡¯t matter how much he analyzed their party comp if he didn¡¯t have some backup. ¡°I mean, if we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.¡± Bel whispered the lines of The Princess Bride to Meph. Meph continued them with a flit of his tongue. Bel closed his eyes for a moment and thought. He could trust Meph to take out two of them, maybe, and that¡¯s if the snake even understood what to do. He¡¯d found he was putting a lot of faith into Meph when he really had no basis for it. The snake was definitely changing, and not just physically, but Bel still had no idea the extent of it. But, even if Meph took out two of them, it would leave 11 for him, and that was just flat out impossible, and since these were the people responsible for killing 60 innocent people in a village just a mile southwest of him, he wasn¡¯t looking to parlay. This group needed to be wiped out, and that left him with one other option: getting back to the camp and convincing the remainders of Gracious¡¯ group to fight alongside him. Bel sighed. It felt like asking the school bullies to help you fight the police. Sure, the enemy of my enemy and all that, but at the end of the day, the bullies are bastards, too. That was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, the King¡¯s mercenaries were resting, and when they were done, they were going to march on the camp. Bel figured he had an hour at most. He needed to move. He pulled out his phone and opened up the Map app, and then almost dropped it in surprise. The map had red dots on it¡ªeleven of them¡ªand they moved in real time. Bel watched, and a twelfth dot appeared at the edge, while another wandered off and vanished. He was getting real-time updates on the enemies he¡¯d tracked through the map app on his phone. ¡°Fuck me sideways, Meph. That might be the best news I¡¯ve gotten in a long time.¡± He wanted to run a quick check. It was obvious that there was a limit to the distance of the radar on the map, but did it persist if he moved away, too? He walked several feet back until dots disappeared at the edge. Then, being careful not to look up and observe the mercenaries, he monitored the map as he walked forward. The dots didn¡¯t reappear. He looked back up, checked them all, and then looked at his phone again. All the dots were accounted for. ¡°Hollleeey shit.¡± Based on the range he was seeing, he could keep track of targets that he¡¯d seen for nearly half a mile. Line of sight was an issue, but this was a marked improvement over his situation just moments before. He wondered if it was tied to the heat vision that he had now. And how much of this was attached to the bond that Meph and he now shared? He closed the map app, opened the Wiki, and typed: ¡°Bound¡±. A new page opened up.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Redirected from Bound Aethereal Binding Aethereal binding is the act of entangling the Aether of one being to an object that also contains Aether, or to another living creature.
Bel scrolled through the page quickly, skipping the part about binding objects. He was sure that was important, but he didn¡¯t have time for it now. He flicked down it until he found what he was looking for.
When an entity is bound to another through Aethereal Binding, several new, unique events may occur. In the most common case, binding occurs between a master and their familiar. This is common among occultists, and those that are reliant on the abilities of others to reduce their own shortcomings. In such cases, the master and the familiar will share their stats with each other as long as they remain within a limited distance from each other, referred to as a ¡®sphere of influence.¡¯ Stat growth between two entities is shared as though each member has taken part in combat, even if one did not participate. In all cases, a bound entity is always aware of the presence of an entity they share a binding with, as long as they are within the sphere of influence. Should an entity that is bound to another die, the surviving entity or entities will suffer a stat decrease based on the stats of the deceased. Should a stat fall below zero, the surviving entity will be destroyed. A survivor of such an event suffers what is typically referred to as Aether sickness. While bindings typically only occur between a master and the familiar, there are cases in which two sentient creatures can be bound. These cases are rare, and often seen as exceedingly dangerous because of the potential for Aether sickness or death.
¡°Woah.¡± Bel looked over the paragraphs several times just to make sure he was reading them correctly. His awareness of Meph was clearly stated, so he could tick that box. Shared stats made sense with what Yillie had said about him moving faster. It mentioned nothing about other perks, like this map highlighting, though. However, things were clicking into place. When he put on the ring, the world around him had changed pretty dramatically. It was still the same, but he was more used to it, so it wasn¡¯t as unnerving. His night vision had become more crisp, sounds more distinct, and he had a connection to events going on around him no matter how miniscule. And then there was the heat vision. All of these were how snakes viewed the world. Bel slid the ring off his finger. He was momentarily frightened because he¡¯d forgotten what it felt like when he pulled the ring off the first time¡ªlike Velcro. Once the ring was off, though, the world went back to how it had always been, though Bel hardly recognized it. Everything felt a little more blurry, and he himself felt off balance. He looked over at the crowd of mercenaries, and they were little more than gray and brown blobs. He looked down at the map on the phone, and all the dots were gone. ¡°Ok, ok. Fuck me.¡± He slid the ring back on, and the world returned to glorious high definition. While he may not be one hundred percent on what the ring did, he had a much larger understanding of it now. It was allowing him to share senses with Meph, which is why when he was walking towards the village with Gracious, everything had suddenly become more intense. Meph was already in the village, and Bel had just gotten within the sphere of influence. The thoughts flipped over in his mind several more times before he caught himself in a giggle. ¡°I¡¯m being hard carried by my pet snake.¡± Meph flitted his tongue and Bel gave him a head scratch. He looked down at the phone. On the Aethereal Binding page there were several links to other articles, but one caught his eye: Stat Growth. He tapped it.
Stat Growth Stat Growth occurs when an entity accrues enough Aether to permanently increase an aspect of their being to the next Tier. Typically, a stat can only be increased through dedicated practice and endurance over the course of a lifetime, but there are exceptions. On Extinction Worlds, it is common to use Aether Forged equipment to enhance the growth beyond common means in a race to gain the most power and become the Sovereign. Since the practice of Aether Forging is cost prohibitive on a large scale, equipment that is Aether Forged commonly comes from Guild sponsorship. When an Aether Forged piece of equipment is worn in combat, errant Aether released during the combat is drawn to the equipment. The Aether that is released can be from any of the eight aspects (Strength, Dexterity, Wisdom, Constitution, Composure, Willpower, Charisma, Insight), and is completely random. The victor of the combat is the first to draw from that Aether. If they cannot, because of a lack of Aether Forged equipment for the released Aether, then another participant in the combat may draw the Aether. In the event that no one is able, the Aether is released permanently, and cannot be regained. If the Aether released is from an entity of a lower tier than the victor, the Aether will not be collected because of purity variations between tiers. If a creature cannot utilize equipment, typically because of a lack of sentience, as with a bound familiar, the Aether may still be absorbed. In this scenario, the stat can be increased in tier, however it may not have the same benefits as the increase would in a sentient creature. This can manifest in unique abilities that lay latent in genetic make-up, and typically show as size increases, enhanced reasoning capability, and other abilities, depending on the stat. Because of this, bespoke familiars and eugenics are popular among certain groups. When a piece of Aether Forged equipment has absorbed five levels of Aether, it is full, and may be destroyed to release the Aether to the owner. When this occurs, the owner¡¯s tier is increased by one permanently.
Bel shook his head. ¡°This wiki is fucking amazing.¡± If he was reading it right, he had a pretty solid grasp on the topic, and more of the recent events were making sense. When he killed the bear-walrus thing, he didn¡¯t have any Aether Forged equipment, but he had a bound familiar, Mephisto. So, while Bel couldn¡¯t absorb the Aether, Mephisto had been able to. The monster must have been pretty fucking strong, too, because Meph had doubled in size overnight, which was also tied to him being non-sentient. It wasn¡¯t much, but Bel was feeling a lot better about everything that was happening around him, and once all of this shit with the King¡¯s men was over, he was going to do everything he could to learn the ins and outs of the world. First, though, he had to survive the day, and that meant killing thirteen people. He sighed. As much as he tried to justify it in his head, there was a large part of him that didn¡¯t like the idea of killing. When he felt doubt creeping up, though, he only had to remember the pile of corpses in the village. Any one of their faces was enough to stoke the fire in his chest again. ¡°You ready to do this, Meph?¡± Meph tightened across Bel¡¯s shoulder. Bel looked back towards the King¡¯s men one more time and counted each of them, then turned and the two headed into the woods towards the camp. Thirteen to go. Chapter 15: The One In Which Stew Is Served It was a short hike, made shorter by his enhanced speed, and he made the clearing by the beach in ten minutes without even breaking a sweat. He took a moment to look out over the blue water on the other side of the camp. It reminded him of Florida beaches, not the ones in Oregon. Light colored sands, gentle waves, and, in the distance, beyond the thunderclouds above him, clear skies. He smirked. All in all, not a terrible place to fight for your life. A plan had formulated in his head while he ran, the first step of which was to find Yillie. While he had no hard evidence he could trust the man, he didn¡¯t seem like the kind to stab someone in the back, either. He didn¡¯t want to let the others know he was back at the camp yet, because that was going to lead to questions he wasn¡¯t ready to answer, so he was going to have to make every effort to get to Yillie quietly. He easily spotted two of the men. The lightning mage was crouched near the fire, tending the wood and rotating skewers of meat slowly while he absentmindedly picked up and let sand slide through his other hand. The other man, the big man with the axe, worked over a stew pot, slowly stirring a large wooden spoon through its contents. It wasn¡¯t a kitchen, but Bel could respect the work they were doing. He moved around the camp perimeter slowly, keeping out of line of sight in the trees. It wasn¡¯t until he was nearing the back that he saw the remaining two dots. Yillie was in his tent, but so was the other man. It shouldn¡¯t have been a surprise to him, since the man had been injured and Yillie tasked to help him, but it wasn¡¯t ideal. He snuck in closer, working slowly through the underbrush until he was a few feet behind the tent. Both of the men outside were preoccupied by the fire and cooking that they hadn¡¯t seen him move through the sparse tree line outside of the camp. He could better make out the blobs of heat in the tent now. One of the two, likely Julo, was laying down, and Bel could hear heavy, restful breathing. He guessed the big man was asleep. He looked at his phone. The map showed the two dots in front of him, and then the two other dots further back into the camp, near where the cooking fire was going. He could see their blobs of heat, too, but having it visualized on the map was unbelievably helpful. No surprises. Bel was confident that whoever was awake in the tent was facing away from him, so he risked lifting the flap a little to peek in. His suspicions had been spot on. Yillie sat with his back towards Bel reading the same book from earlier, and Julo lay on his side, facing the fabric wall of the tent. He raised the fabric up a little more and crawled underneath. Inside, a lantern had been lit to brighten it up for reading, with the midday sun now hidden behind the clouds. Bel took one step forward into the tent, and Yillie coughed. ¡°You¡¯ve returned.¡± The old man didn¡¯t even turn around to Bel. He took a moment, debating on if he should try to run, but he needed an ally, and Yillie was his best chance. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m back. Is Julo out cold?¡± ¡°Cold enough. He won¡¯t bother us.¡± Yillie closed the book and set it on the box beside him before standing and turning around. As his gaze struck Bel, his weathered face cracked a warm smile. ¡°And you¡¯ve brought your pet.¡± Bel chuckled. ¡°Yillie, Mephisto. Mephisto, Yillie.¡± Yillie gave a small bow and Mephisto flitted his tongue. ¡°Yillie, something¡¯s come up.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve killed Gracious and Porvo. And Nim is dead, too.¡± Bel nodded gravely and mentally acknowledged that the man¡¯s mind was quicker than he thought. ¡°Yeah, I killed them.¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t unexpected, but it is surprising. I suppose I should have given you more credit after you killed the Ursod last night.¡± Bel raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ursod, huh? I didn¡¯t know its name.¡± The old man¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Tell me, why did you kill them?¡± Bel felt a lump growing in his throat. ¡°Nim called the King¡¯s men on me. They wiped out a village south of here. Gracious and Porvo wanted me to kill Nim, so they¡¯d have something to hold over me. I killed them first. Afterwards, I killed Nim because of the collateral damage that had been done to the village when he called the King for me.¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°So, you killed for vengeance?¡± Bel shook his head. This was something he was sure of. He¡¯d rolled it around in his head enough already that he was confident it wasn¡¯t that. ¡°No. I killed them because they were vile men. If I¡¯d let them go¡ªany of them¡ªthey¡¯d just do it again.¡± Yillie nodded again. ¡°That is logic that fails past the first permutation. You do not know that they would have. Through debate and discourse, perhaps you could have changed them.¡± Bel wore the frustration plain on his face. ¡°Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! Perhaps I¡¯ll shit out a unicorn and fly to the King on its back. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I¡¯m in a magic fucking world. The only thing I can rely on is myself and my judgement, and my judgement told me that three men needed to die. I don¡¯t like it. I hope I never do. But as long as I¡¯m alive and I have the power to do something about it, like it or not, I¡¯ll fucking do it.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. There was a long moment of silence and Yillie took in a deep breath before smiling. ¡°A king is born.¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°Fuck that. I don¡¯t want to be king if this is the shit I¡¯m gonna deal with. But that fucker¡¯s got some answering to do for all of this shit, so he¡¯s sitting at the top of my shit list.¡± Yillie was still smiling. ¡°You know, I am still owned by the king.¡± ¡°Good news, Yillie. I¡¯m the king. Whoever is sitting on that throne is a liar and a cunt. So, if you are owned by the king¡ªthe true king¡ªyou aren¡¯t owned by anyone. You are a free man.¡± Bel struck out his hand. ¡°As a free man, I¡¯ll ask for your hand in aid, but you are also free to turn away.¡± Yillie took his hand. ¡°I¡¯m in, your highness.¡± A groaning voice came from the cot. ¡°I¡¯m in, too. Sounds like a good time.¡± Bel spun around and brandished his dagger at the man who, until now, had been asleep on the cot. Mephisto hissed. Julo held up his hands in surrender. ¡°Nice dirk. Aether forged. Horal¡¯s work?¡± Bel looked the man up and down. He was built like a house and the cot sagged beneath him like he weighed as much as one, but it was all muscle. The last time Bel had seen him, he was dressed in hard leather armor with iron rivets and heaving a hammer towards him. Even without all of that on him, he dwarfed Bel. ¡°Yeah. Horal. In Tothers.¡± Bel said without breaking eye contact. Julo nodded. ¡°He¡¯s a good man, and a better smith. It¡¯ll serve you well.¡± Bel looked over at Yillie. ¡°I thought you said he was out cold.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re an idiot for believing me. Furthermore, you aren¡¯t nearly as quiet as you think you are.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°I¡¯m learning that. Thankfully, I¡¯ve got Meph.¡± He ran a hand across the snake¡¯s back. Yillie looked at Julo and then back to Bel. ¡°I¡¯ll vouch for Julo. He¡¯s harmless.¡± Bel doubted that. ¡°What he means is I¡¯m not a monster like Gracious and Porvo. They were something else. If I¡¯d have known before I came out, I wouldn¡¯t have signed up.¡± ¡°But what about the other two out there? Can they be trusted?¡± Both of the other men shrugged, but Julo answered. ¡°Theori, the one in all the armor, he¡¯s alright, I think. Wild, and a bit eccentric, but alright. The other one, though, they call him Seven, cause that¡¯s all the fingers he¡¯s got. He¡¯s batshit crazy. Hell of a mage, but out of his goddamned mind. Acts like a child.¡± ¡°He done anything bad?¡± Belmont asked. ¡°Depends on your definition. When we go hunting, he likes to burn the animals alive. Says it makes the meat tender. When he does it, he¡¯s got a look in his eyes. Hell of a mage, like I said, but fucking scary.¡± Bel took in a long breath. ¡°Fuck. Alright. I don¡¯t want him anywhere near us, then. You both stay in here. I¡¯m gonna go out and talk to them. If shit goes sideways, you can always say you had nothing to do with it.¡± Julo nodded. Yillie spoke up in protest. ¡°I¡¯ll go with you, Michael.¡± Bel held up a hand. ¡°No, I appreciate it, but I can handle it. And don¡¯t call me Michael. My friends call me Bel.¡± Yillie acquiesced. ¡°Alright, Bel.¡± Bel started walking to the front of the tent, but stopped. He bent down and let Meph slide from his arm. ¡°Stay here with them. The ones outside don¡¯t know about you. Might as well keep a secret or two when we can.¡± Mephisto slid down and then back over to the other two men as though he understood Belmont perfectly. Yillie spoke as Bel was leaving. ¡°You¡¯ve changed. For the better.¡± Bel turned before walking out. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m not sure about the ¡®better¡¯ part yet, but yeah, I¡¯ve changed.¡± He lifted the front flap and stepped back onto the cloudy beach. The two men sat at the cooking fire facing away from him, but within three steps, both of them had turned. Theori barely reacted. His confidence was overpowering, and the giant man simply stood, leaning on his axe like a walking stick, constructed like an iron bowling ball in all of his armor. Bel wondered if he ever took it off, and then remembered how much of a hassle the dead man¡¯s armor had been. Seven immediately assumed a threatening pose. His dark robes slid backwards across the sand as he stepped back and raised his hands. Bel recognized the posture. It was the same as the night before when Bel had been sliding helplessly into the camp chased by the Ursod. He looked at the man''s hands, and sure enough, he was missing the thumb, ring finger and pinky from his right hand, making it look like he was perpetually giving a peace sign. Bel held up his hands, though one still held the dirk, since he didn¡¯t have a sheath for it. ¡°I¡¯m not here to hurt you.¡± Theori was silent and immobile. Seven yelled across the fire. ¡°Where is Gracious?¡± Bel had one play, and he hoped he made the right one. ¡°I killed him. Porvo and Nim, too.¡± He paused for effect. ¡°They tried to kill me and failed.¡± ¡°Liar!¡± Seven shot back. Bel gave him an incredulous look. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. They¡¯re on their way and totally cool with a stranger walking around the camp telling everyone he killed them.¡± ¡°Usurper! You wear the King¡¯s colors, but you aren¡¯t one of his soldiers!¡± Bel looked down at his shirt. ¡°This old thing?¡± Looking back up, he saw the lightning crackle on the mage¡¯s fingers. He lunged right and rolled across the sand as an arc of electricity raced across the camp. The hair on his arm stood up as it blew by him and collided with a mound of sand, turning it into glass. From a crouch, Bel looked back to Seven and prepared to dodge again, but saw that Theori had stepped between himself and the mage, holding his axe like a club over his heavily armored shoulder, with all the poise of a brick wall. Bel wasn¡¯t sure if magical electricity had the same reaction to metal as the regular stuff, but Theori didn¡¯t seem to give a shit. ¡°Leave.¡± One word boomed like the thunder that threatened overhead. Theori raised the axe and held it out parallel over the sand. Bel remembered the giant in the prison yard who¡¯d held his yoke the same way. Seven looked back towards Bel with pure unbridled hate, but that¡¯s all he could do. ¡°I know the King¡¯s men are here! I¡¯ll tell them what you¡¯ve done!¡± Theori stretched his arm forward, extending his axe. It hung in the air with all the power of the thunder that Seven couldn¡¯t produce. He repeated himself, ¡°Leave.¡± What electricity the mage may have been hanging on to evaporated. He backed up several steps and balled his fists, but didn¡¯t make a move. Instead, he turned and skulked off across the sands, through the south of the camp, and away. Bel knew that he¡¯d be true to his word and head straight towards the King¡¯s men, but he didn¡¯t care. Hopefully, he might tell them some tall tales about the man who killed Gracious Lust. Theori turned around and rested the axe back on his shoulder. ¡°Gracious was an asshole.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Sure was.¡± He stepped up towards the man. ¡°I won¡¯t hold you to it, but I¡¯d like to talk to you, Julo, and Yillie about what happens next, if you are willing to listen.¡± Theori took a moment, but nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll listen.¡± Julo and Yillie stepped out of the tent. Meph was curled over Yillie¡¯s shoulders, and the man ran a hand over Meph¡¯s scales. They joined Bel and Theori by the cooking fire, and all of them took a seat. Theori spooned up some of the stew from the pot into bowls and passed it around. Bel smiled and accepted it graciously. ¡°Thank you, chef.¡± Theori nodded back. Bel took a few bites and let the warm food work through his body. He didn¡¯t care that he was sitting on a cloudy beach while the wind chilled his skin to the bone. This stew was everything he needed. After a few more bites, he looked at everyone. ¡°Ok, we probably have little time, so I¡¯m gonna have to go through this quick.¡± Chapter 16: The One In Which A Trap Is Sprung Bel spent the next few minutes explaining the situation to the other three men. Because of his own ignorance of much of the world, he could wave off a lot of the questions that may have required longer answers. He took a moment and looked around the group. Yillie was still wearing Meph like a scarf and leaning on his staff, but there was a stoic confidence in his eyes that gave Bel a sense of ease. Julo was back up and armored, fully decked in leather and iron like he¡¯d stepped off a high budget action movie set in Medieval Europe. Theori, next to him, put even Julo to shame. Bel looked at his feet and saw the sand compressed in his footsteps. The man was a giant in his gear, and even though he looked like he may be only slightly younger than Yillie, his face was as hard as his armor. Then there was himself. Thirty-seven, unemployed, and less than twenty-four hours in this world. He was a sham. No battle skill, no knowledge, no magic. He huffed quietly and broke himself out of it. All the negative self-talk was getting to him. He rang his hands together and looked at the ash that caked his knuckles and worked up his arms. He knew he had to be better. ¡°Alright, first things first,¡± he started. ¡°Let¡¯s figure out what we¡¯ve got. I¡¯d still like some armor, even if it isn¡¯t Aether Forged, and maybe another weapon aside from this knife. Search the tents and take a look at what the others had. We might find something useful. Gracious smelled like a hoarder, and Nim looked rich as shit. Both of them might have some things hidden away. And Porvo gave me this dagger, so there may be more where that came from. I¡¯ll take Yillie and we¡¯ll look through Seven¡¯s shit. He can identify magic better than I can.¡± Theori cracked his knuckles and Julo smiled. Without a word, they broke into some version of rock-paper scissors where they made their hands flop like fish until one of them decided they were the winner. Bel had no idea how it was played. Ultimately, though, Julo was the victor, and he pumped his fist as he turned towards Gracious¡¯ tent, leaving Theori to the tent that Porvo and Nim had shared. Bel and Yillie turned to the northern section of the camp while the other two headed to the largest enclosure to the south. Bel felt the start of rain on his head, and he looked up at the sky. It was now a blanket of black cloth draped over what had started as a clear blue day. He and Yillie hurried into the tent as the sounds of rain padded against the sand. The interior of the tent was divided into three sections, with Theori and Julo¡¯s areas in the front, and Seven¡¯s in the back. Walking through Julo¡¯s section, it reminded Bel of his bedroom. Clothes strewn about haphazardly, an odd book open and face down so the spine bent. Then there was Theori¡¯s area in stark opposition. The man was fastidious in his tidy nature. Even though it was just a tent, he had everything organized and put in its place. The best part was his bed, or lack-thereof. Instead of the pile of blankets that Julo had, Theori slept on a mount of pillows like a damned sultan. It looked supremely comfortable. Seven¡¯s section was exactly what he expected. It smelled weird, was a complete mess, and if there was anything worth finding, it was buried in mounds of clothes and loose fabrics. Bel dug carefully through the piles of clothes and books, while Yillie moved to a small chest of drawers. Bel wasn¡¯t paying attention when he heard a fast hissing noise and heard the older man gasp. He turned and saw Yillie holding an arm over his face as if he were trying to cover his mouth for a cough. He made the vague motion for Bel to do the same, and he did without hesitation. Bel looked at Meph on Yillie¡¯s shoulder, but the snake seemed unfazed. Beside Yillie, the chest was open, and one drawer was pulled out. Attached to it with some kind of metal mechanism, a glass ampule was broken in two, and dripped a light yellow liquid into the drawer. The first thing Bel noticed was the stinging in his eyes, like he was tired and they were drying out. Then, his skin prickled like he had ants crawling all over him. He grabbed a cloth from the floor and wiped it across his face, but Yillie stopped him with a frantic wave. Bel dropped the cloth, and the area where he¡¯d already wiped inflamed like he¡¯d rubbed himself with poison ivy. The sensation only worsened, and within seconds, his entire face was on fire and his eyes felt like they might explode. He panicked and looked around on the floor for anything, but Yillie caught his attention. He held up a finger, telling Belmont to wait. Seconds of agony ticked by like hours for Bel until the pain finally subsided. A few more moments, and Yillie cautiously uncovered his mouth and took small, sipping breaths before inhaling fully. ¡°It is fine, now. My apologies.¡± Bel uncovered his mouth and breathed deep. His eyes were still on fire, but it was slowly going away, too. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Yillie leaned over and slowly brought a hand to Bel¡¯s eyes. He held the eye open and quickly blew. It caught Bel off guard, but the pain died almost immediately. Yillie did the same to the second eye, and the pain left completely. ¡°Poison,¡± he said. ¡°Now, if you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± He held his own eyes open for Bel, who obliged. ¡°It¡¯s a new one, unique to Eon. I¡¯ve only seen it once before. Poison from a plant is extracted and then dispersed by a breaking a small glass ampule. It dissipates quickly in open air, but if you rub it into your skin, it will penetrate and cause blinding pain, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve witnessed. It is even worse if you breathe it in. The moisture in your mouth and lungs increases the pain tenfold. Luckily, it doesn¡¯t migrate, which is why when I blew into your eyes, it dried them enough for the poison to dissipate because it hadn¡¯t coated your eye socket.¡± Bel touched his forehead and eyelids. It was still tender where the poison had crept in. ¡°If you¡¯d continued to wipe at it, it would have only prolonged the duration. The group that found it was incapacitated for months. Fortunately, it doesn¡¯t seem to bother serpents.¡± He reached up and patted Meph.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Bel shook his head. ¡°Fuck. Alright, well, let¡¯s be careful going through this psychopath¡¯s stuff, then.¡± ¡°Agreed.¡± Bel continued his search through the clothes and cloths, though now moving much slower and more deliberately. He¡¯d all but given up hope of finding anything until he felt something solid through a few layers of fabric. Digging deeper, he withdrew a small book, about the size of a paperback, bound in red leather, but with only a couple dozen pages. He opened it and looked through the scrawled text. It was just names and dates for about half of the book; the rest was empty. He held it up to Yillie with the page open. ¡°Does this mean anything to you?¡± Yillie turned and squinted at the text as he read, but shook his head. ¡°What is the earliest date?¡± Bel flipped to the first page. ¡°36 Arbellan, 245.¡± Bel realized he still had no idea what the calendar here was like. ¡°Slightly over ten years ago. It¡¯s just names and dates?¡± Bel nodded and flipped through the pages more. If it belonged to Seven, it was entirely different from anything else about him. The pages were timeworn and stained, but the entries were precisely written. The handwriting changed slightly over time, but it was unmistakably the same person writing it. Yillie snapped him out of it. ¡°Curious, but we have more pressing matters. Here¡­¡± he held up a small iron rod, no larger than a wood nail, and showed it to Bel. There were letters carved delicately into the iron that looked vaguely like English, but not quite. Bel looked over them again, and they became clear, like looking at one of those Magic Eye puzzles. He couldn¡¯t read exactly what they said, but he knew it was a fire spell. Tier two. ¡°Tier Two, Fire.¡± He said while reading the text again. Yillie looked impressed. ¡°Exactly. I didn¡¯t expect you to be able to read it.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t at first, but it cleared up the more I looked at it.¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°That is your Insight aspect. Though, I still feel you are Tier Zero.¡± ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Then you should not have been able to read it. Tier One, perhaps, but not Tier Zero.¡± Bel knew why he could. Meph¡¯s insight was tier one, and he was sharing the snake¡¯s stats. He wouldn¡¯t pass that on to Yillie yet, though. ¡°Perhaps it is best to keep some secrets.¡± Bel thought the old man looked hurt. ¡°Sorry, Yillie, I just¡ª¡± ¡°No need to apologize. It was I who warned you about giving away information.¡± Bel figured it was best to move on. ¡°Is that everything?¡± ¡°Yes. I believe so.¡± ¡°Good. Let¡¯s get back out there and see if Julo or Theori found anything.¡± Bel pocketed the book. He wasn¡¯t sure what it meant yet, but he didn¡¯t like the feeling he got from it. It was an ominous totem. He didn¡¯t want to assume the worst, but in the darker reaches of his mind, he had some ideas. The two stood and worked back out of the tent and into the drizzling rain. Bel looked around the camp for heat signatures, but only saw the two of Theori and Julo in the other tents. He pulled out his phone as Yillie walked away and checked the map. Just their dots. He stepped in behind Yillie, and by the time they reached the other tents, Julo was walking out one, and Theori, shortly after, from the other. They met under a cloth overhang in front of Gracious¡¯ tent while the rain lightly padded around them. ¡°Find anything?¡± Bel asked. Theori nodded. ¡°Two vials of something in Nim¡¯s junk, and a Tier Two leg snapper in Porvo¡¯s.¡± He handed the vials over to Yillie, who took them carefully. Yillie looked over at Bel. ¡°The same that Seven had.¡± Bel nodded and looked at Theori. ¡°What¡¯s a leg snapper?¡± Theori held up an iron bear trap, but with smooth bars instead of teeth. ¡°It¡¯s meant to maim, but not kill. Breaks the bone.¡± Bel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Why?¡± Julo answered. ¡°King¡¯s sport, I imagine. Part of the job was to bring back any high Tier game we found. The King kills it himself. That way, he gets the Aether from the kill.¡± Bel huffed. ¡°What the fuck, man? I like this guy less the more I hear about him.¡± ¡°It¡¯s pretty common practice. The King needs to get strong, but they can¡¯t go out and fight, or they might die.¡± Bel chuckled and looked up into the rain. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯d be a real shame if the fucking ones sending people to die had to deal with the consequences of their actions.¡± He looked back down. ¡°Fuck it, though. Julo, did you find anything in Gracious¡¯ tent?¡± He held up a small leather chest piece and a pale yellow cloth shirt. ¡°Sure did.¡± He tossed the shirt to Bel. ¡°Put that on over the one you¡¯re wearing. It¡¯s heavier, and should do something against grazing attacks. Then I¡¯ll put the leather on you. It¡¯s not a full set of armor, but it¡¯s Aether Forged, so it¡¯s better than nothing.¡± Bel held up the shirt. It was clean and looked fresh enough, so he put it on. It fit snuggly, but didn¡¯t constrict his movement. Julo walked over and dropped the leather over his shoulders. He tugged it down like the harness on a roller coaster and then started clipping buckles together. In less than a minute, he had it attached to Bel, and Bel had to laugh. He¡¯d spent ten minutes trying to get the set off of the dead man in the village and Julo had made it seem like tying shoes. ¡°How do I look?¡± Theori smiled for the first time. ¡°Like an asshole.¡± ¡°Funny, cause I feel like a douchebag.¡± Yillie and Julo chuckled. Julo produced three bottles from his hip. ¡°I also found three healing salves. If it''s alright, I¡¯ll hold on to them. I can pass them to Theori if he needs them, so Scalp can catch a break.¡± He looked over at Yillie sheepishly. ¡°Sorry¡­ Yillie.¡± Yillie shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s alright, I¡¯ve grown accustomed to, if not fond of, the name.¡± Theori looked at Bel and Yillie. ¡°What did you all find?¡± Yillie produced the iron rod, and Bel showed the book. Theori took the book, flipped through the pages for a moment, and then looked at the rod. ¡°The book won¡¯t do us any good, but the spell is nice. What is it?¡± ¡°Tier Two Fire,¡± Yillie answered Julo whistled. ¡°Can either of you use it?¡± Theori shook his head, but Julo nodded. ¡°Yeah, I can, but I¡¯ve never been good with magic. Too finicky. I like my hammers. It¡¯s a Strength spell, though.¡± He looked at Bel. ¡°Can you use it?¡± Bel looked at Yillie, who nodded. ¡°Anyone with at least Tier One Strength can cast it, but it¡¯s a waste to bind it to yourself at a Tier lower than the spell, because you¡¯ll have to destroy it to increase that Tier, meaning you¡¯ll never see the full Tier Two benefit.¡± He held the iron rod out to Bel, anyway. ¡°It¡¯s your choice.¡± Bel took it. ¡°Can¡¯t use it if you¡¯re dead.¡± Theori chuckled. ¡°And, also, you mentioned Strength, and before you said something about Insight. Do you all see stats the same way that I do?¡± Yillie shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s the Aether. It is translating the concept as we say it so that you understand what we mean, and we understand what you mean.¡± Bel nodded slowly. ¡°Right. The universal translator. Fucking weird shit.¡± He turned and walked out into the camp. ¡°Alright, we need to work on a plan.¡± Julo called out to Bel as he walked away. ¡°Hey, Bel.¡± He turned. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°That stuff on your hands and arms. Is that ash?¡± Bel held his arms out in front of him. ¡°Yeah.¡± Theori walked over. ¡°From the village, right?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± The big man clapped a reassuring hand on Bel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be alright.¡± Bel nodded. Chapter 17: The One In Which A Battle Happens Bel crouched down low in the southern forest with Meph thirty feet away on the other side of the pathway and waited for the King¡¯s men. He felt the damp earth compress below his feet and listened as the rain patted down on the surrounding leaves. It was a calm moment that did nothing to soothe the adrenaline that coursed through him. He kept feeling his mind slip away into questioning how he got here, and why he was here, and where he was¡ªall the noise was distracting. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, then exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Alert. He could feel Meph in his head. When the static of his own self doubt wasn¡¯t so overwhelming, the snake was there. He focused on Meph, and on the calm, and opened his eyes again. He looked back towards the camp. His line of sight was broken by Nim and Porvo¡¯s tent, but he was close enough to hear whatever happened. It didn¡¯t take long. Bel could hear Theori calling out to the King¡¯s men. ¡°Ho there! Who steps into the camp of Black Lerabo?¡± ¡°Guild Hunters under contract to King Graham on an official inquiry. We have information that a usurper may be on this island, and we are checking all settlements. Stand aside.¡± The man¡¯s voice was snide and self-important. Bel couldn¡¯t see them directly, but their body heat was visible. He checked his map, and saw that they had come in just below Yillie¡¯s tent, between it and the cooking fire in the center of camp. ¡°Guild? What Guild do you hunt for?¡± Theori¡¯s tone was accusatory. There was a moment of silence. ¡°Guild Mythra.¡± Another moment of silence and Theori spoke again, ¡°We hunt for Mythra as well. There is no need to invade our camp. We harbor no usurper.¡± Bel heard the snap of a twig and turned his head. Three men walked up the path from the village. Two of them in heavy armor, one in lighter armor. Then, his heat vision picked up a fourth. The healer. He was about fifteen feet behind them. Bel checked his map again, and they too were marked along with the Six dots to the north, where Theori was speaking. That made ten, meaning three were still unaccounted for, four if he were counting Seven, which he was. He flipped over to the Inventory app quickly and made sure everything was in place. The dirk was still on his Dexterity stat, and the Tier Two Fire spell was attached to his Strength stat. Then, in the Items tab, he had the Leg Snapper and two vials of that nasty poison. The leather armor had also been placed on his Composure stat, which made Bel feel markedly safer. Everything was all where it needed to be. Back in the camp, the conversation was escalating. Theori was shouting now, ¡°Stay your blade, scoundrel! You have no right to enter a Guild camp.¡± ¡°We have the right of the King!¡± the man retorted. Bel wasn¡¯t sure how much of this was Theori playing it up to delay as much as possible, and how much was really him, but Bel was loving it. ¡°And the Guild is above the King. The King¡¯s right means nothing in this camp!¡± ¡°Blasphemer!¡± ¡°Scallywag!¡± Bel almost choked on his spit. He didn¡¯t think Theori had it in him. Another branch snapped, this time behind Bel and away from the path. He turned slowly. It was an archer and another of the healers. They were working around through the underbrush to get to a small embankment that overlooked the camp. It was the whole reason Bel was here. Julo had mentioned that the archers may try to get to vantage points to pin down the group, and told Bel where to wait for them. He was dead on. The two wouldn¡¯t get close enough to see him, but he could hear them, and thanks to his enhanced senses, they may as well be standing in an open field. There was a clash of steel from the camp, and Bel heard Theori and Julo roar. His guts twisted into a knot. It was time. The battle was starting. The two tanks, DPS, and healer, started walking further towards the camp. They weren¡¯t going to rush in, they would delay and wait for the force in the camp to wear down the others, then they would come in for the killing blow. Bel had two jobs. One, get rid of the archer and the healer, and two, disrupt the second group as best he could. He felt Mephisto moving and looked. The snake was wasting no time in getting to the first targets. The archer had already climbed up the small hill and was getting into position as Meph slithered under the foliage and along side him. He was oblivious to the ten foot snake just feet from him. That left the healer to Bel. Luckily, the battle in the camp was in full swing now, and the second group was far enough away that he felt comfortable making a little noise as he moved. The gentle patter of rain through the trees and constant clang of metal covered the sound of his tracks as he crept towards the healer, and he held his breath, focusing again on Meph. Poised and ready. Bel pushed off the ground, knife forward, and tackled the man in cloth from behind. He put all of his weight into the maneuver and they collapsed to the ground together with a light thud in the thick underbrush. Bel fumbled with the dirk for a moment, but found his grip, and drove the dagger into the man¡¯s neck before he could make a sound. Liquid heat coated his hand, and he watched as the warmth slowly faded from the corpse below him. Above, Meph had the archer in a chokehold while the man writhed against him, but it was futile. There was a soft pop of his neck breaking, and the snake uncoiled slowly, letting the limp form of the man roll to the side. Two down. Bel pushed up off of the man beneath him and wiped the blade on the back of the man¡¯s cloth robe, then his hands. The ash from his arms and the blood of the man smeared into thick lines of gray-red. Bel¡¯s heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt like his blood would jump right out of his veins. He looked towards the other group, but they had noticed nothing. He let out a sigh and tried to slow his breathing. Meph slithered down from the hill to him and waited at his side. ¡°Good work.¡± Meph flitted his tongue. He only gave himself a handful of seconds before he set his sights on the other group. Distraction was the next mission, and he needed to accomplish it before the group left the forest. He double checked the map. Just the men walking away and still no sign of Seven. Yet. He set the Leg Snapper at his feet and armed it. Theori had showed him how. For as dangerous as the thing was, it was disturbingly easy to set. He stood up and looked at the group as they moved. Healer was the primary target, and also the closest, so that was who he was going for. He moved up, keeping low, but not totally crouched so he could still outpace the men. Quietly as he could, he crept through the underbrush, but he knew that now there was no way he could get the jump on them. He only hoped he¡¯d get close enough to nail the healer before the other could react. Meph silently darted into the underbrush along the pathway, and Bel felt himself envy the snake. Closer and closer, until he was less than ten feet behind the healer. He was only going to get one shot at this. The second the healer went down, the others would react. No hesitation. No noise. One clean cut. Go. He lunged. Then snap! A branch cracked beneath his feet. The healer and swordman immediately turned. Before Bel had a chance to act, the fighter called to the heavies in the front.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Fuck! Meph was out of the brush in a flash. The lithe snake form assaulted the man like a middleweight boxer. Blow after blow to his exposed face and neck. Chunks of flesh ripped off in the snake¡¯s fangs as it hammered its jaws into the fighter over and over. A moment later, and the man had no face at all, just a mass of torn flesh, exposed muscles, and bloody bones. Bel took his shot and lept at the healer. He was too far to aim for the neck, so he went for the legs instead. The man raised his staff and swatted down at Bel, but it wasn¡¯t enough to break his momentum. It glanced against the leather armor on his back as Bel drove the knife into the man¡¯s soft thigh muscle. The healer screamed and dropped to the ground. Bel yanked the knife out, flinging blood across dead wood and fallen leaves, before returning it to the man¡¯s now in-range neck. Another flow of warm red fluid was on his hands. He pulled the knife free again just in time to see the two tanks barreling down on him. He jumped up and turned away, dashing back towards the trap. He was faster than the heavies, but not by much. Ahead, partially hidden in the underbrush, he saw the leg snapper. He turned towards it, and then just a little to the right. A half second after he passed it, he heard the trap spring shut like a vice, and the sound of crushing metal. He turned to see one of the heavies go down hard into the brush. The other seemed unphased, but he was so focused on Bel that he didn¡¯t notice the snake in the tree above him. Meph dropped onto the man¡¯s shoulders and squeezed tight around his helmet. It was the sound of an aluminum can crumpling. The visor of the helm oozed pink-gray from the eye slit, and the heavy dropped, twitching, to the ground. Bel rushed to the other, still very alive, but locked in the trap and face down. He tried to rip the tank¡¯s helm off, but it was tied to his chest plate with leather straps. Bel drove his knife into the gap his fingers created in the neck armor and stabbed the man until he saw the blade come back coated in blood and felt the body go limp. Six down. ¡°FUCK!¡± Bel yelled. The adrenaline was more than he could take. The world was getting hazy, and his chest felt like a cannon. He fell to a knee and reached down to the ground. Meph slithered to him and up his arm, and almost immediately, Bel felt more at ease. He wasn¡¯t calm by any means, but his breath returned and his vision stabilized. There was no time to waste. He ran back to the downed swordsman and grabbed the short sword from his clenched fist. It was heavier than he expected, but balanced in much the same way as the dagger. He swapped hands with the two, carrying the sword in his right, and dagger in his left. He wasn¡¯t sure how much good the sword would do him, but it was always good to have options. He sprinted from the forest and towards the camp. As he passed Gracious¡¯ tent, he quickly took the scene. Theori was standing with one foot on top of one of the enemy tanks who¡¯d already fallen and swinging his axe like a wild beast at another. Each blow that connected was another chunk out of the opposing tank¡¯s armor. Bel wasn¡¯t sure if Theori was swinging it like an axe or a hammer, but the effect couldn¡¯t be denied. Julo stood beside him, but at a safe distance from the swings. He was more focused on harassing the two swordsmen that were backing the tank up. Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t fairing as well as Theori and all his armor. Blood seeped from a large gash on his left arm, as well as another on his leg. Each swing of his hammer sent the blood flying across the beach. Then Bel saw Yillie. He was pinned down behind the tent and unable to get a clear line of sight on either of the other two men. Bel saw the arrows at his feet, and one more sticking out of his side. He watched as Yillie yanked the arrow free and then immediately healed the wound as blood flowed. The pain on his face was telling, but the man didn¡¯t flinch. He popped his head back out and healed Julo until another arrow sailed at him. Bel looked at where it had come from and saw an archer up on the bluffs where he¡¯d first ran into the camp from the night before. That was the last of the men, aside from Seven, to be accounted for. Meph was off his shoulder and across the beach in a shot. The snake moved like oil over water and darted towards the hillside where the archer was. Again, Bel had to take a second to be amazed at the snake. Just a second, though. He had work of his own to do. He looked at the line against Theori and Julo. Two tanks, two swordsmen, and their healer. He doubled checked his map and made sure there weren¡¯t any surprises. All good. He needed to do something about the healer, though, and quick. Carefully, he pulled a small cloth square from his pocket and unwrapped it, removing one of the poison ampules. He hoped his arm was good enough and chucked it towards the healer. The glass vial was so small that the group didn¡¯t see it coming. It burst against the arm of the healer. At first, there was no reaction, but then Bel saw the mage¡¯s hands begin to shake. He brought one of them to his face and started rubbing frantically. Finally, the screams came. The light rain that still fell was increasing the intensity of the poison as it coated the man. Bel watched as he tried to rub the poison off his skin again and again, but it was in vain. The healer fell to the ground shreiking in agony, and one fighter turned to see what had happened. Julo didn¡¯t miss a beat and immediately swung his hammer into the man¡¯s lightly padded head, dropping him to his knees. The fighter wasn¡¯t out of it, but it was going to be a minute before he was back up. Bel took his chance and ran around to the east of Nim and Porvo¡¯s tent in an attempt to get behind the other group. He looked up to the bluff where the archer was, or rather, had been. Meph was already on his way back down to the beach. Yillie was back in action, and the battle was sliding into their favor. Bel looked back to the Healer, but the man was already back on his feet and casting towards the front line again. Goddamnit. He wasn¡¯t sure how the man had gotten over the poison so fast, but it mattered little now. He was back to being priority one. Bel lunged from behind the tent and sprinted towards the healer. He drug the sword upwards through the sand and slashed, bringing a cloud of coarse dirt with him. The healer dodged back, but Bel pushed in, taking another wild swipe. Swinging a sword was a lot different from he¡¯d envisioned. It moved without him. The momentum of each swing carried the blade, and compared to the dagger, or his time with a chef¡¯s knife, it was borderline unruly. But it was fun. Another dodge from the healer, and Bel pressed the attack once again. This time, though, the blade connected, slicing diagonally downwards across the man¡¯s torso, cutting through his thin cloth. He held up his staff to block, and with the other hand, attempted to heal the fresh wound, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Meph leaped in from behind and circled around the man¡¯s neck. Bel lunged and forced the sword into the healer¡¯s abdomen and through. He pulled it out, and the man dropped to the ground. Bel turned back to the group. The fighter that Julo had knocked down was getting back up, and Julo still had his hands full with the other. Theori was solo-ing the remaining two tanks, still swinging his axe like a mallet while Yillie constantly healed from the back line. Bel called out to the fighter, ¡°Hey, fuckwad!¡± The swordsman looked up at him and returned to his feet. He saw the healer dead beside Bel and made a dash. Bel dropped the sword from his right hand and held his palm outward. ¡°Fire! Go!¡± The first blast slammed into the fighter¡¯s chest, sending him staggering back. ¡°Go!¡± The second hit before he even had time to scream. ¡°GO!¡± The third came with an earth-shaking boom, a shockwave of fire and force that lifted the swordsman off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground, burning. Bel could still feel the heat in his fingertips. Thick smoke carried cinders into the air as rain gently fell down on the blackened corpse. A thunderous crack broke the sounds of combat as Bel¡¯s world turned white. His ears rang out in agony, and he felt his heart stop in his chest. He fell and rolled slowly. Seven was walking towards him. Another burst of lightning hammered onto his chest, leaving his leather armor singed and smoking. Black spots appeared in his vision. He glimpsed Meph darting across the sands, and then he saw Seven raise his hand towards the snake. Lightning arched from his fingers, but Bel couldn¡¯t move. From his side, thundering footsteps rushed past him, and just before the lightning struck the snake, Theori put himself between the bolt and the serpent. Bel felt a warmth come over himself, and all the pain faded. He sat up and then got to his knees before turning just in time to see Julo give the final blow to the remaining fighter while Yillie cast a healing spell towards himself. Julo¡¯s hammer crashed into the man¡¯s head like a freight train and sent a splintered skull across the sand. The corpse collapsed on the body of the tank that had fallen just before him. Still slightly dazed, Bel stood up and turned back to Theori and Seven. ¡°Do it again, boy! My axe is thirsty today!¡± Seven shot another bolt at the iron clad colossus. It singed his armor, but Theori didn¡¯t give him the pleasure of a reaction. ¡°Is that all you¡¯ve got, mage? You aren¡¯t even making my cock tingle.¡± Seven shot another bolt, but Theori took it the same as the previous. He saw Yillie and Julo step up beside him, and couldn¡¯t help but notice Yillie casting healing spells on the big man as he took the strikes. Bel held up his hand and looked down his arm towards Seven. He let another fireball billow from himself, this time without the words. The flames shot towards the mage, but he was ready, and stepped to the side just as the fires reached him, only singing his dark cloak. ¡°That¡¯s my spell, usurper!¡± He sounded like an angry child. ¡°Finders keepers!¡± Bel called back. ¡°I¡¯ve got your book, too.¡± Bel held up the red leather notebook and Seven¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°That¡¯s MINE! Give it BACK!¡± Another bolt of lightning sailed towards Bel, but Theori stepped in and intervened once again. It soaked into the steel that encased the man and faded away in the rain. Bel had only taken the two bolts and it¡¯d nearly made him black out. Theori was taking one after the other and he was still standing. The big man was done messing around. He thundered ahead, axe raised at the young mage. In his heavy armor, he wasn¡¯t fast enough, though, and before he was anywhere near him, Seven turned and ran like a frightened rabbit into the southern forest, his cloak whipping behind him. ¡°COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE COWARD!¡± Theori roared after him, but made no move to chase. Julo spat in the sand. ¡°Fucker¡¯s lucky day. He won¡¯t get another.¡± Bel exhaled sharply and finally let the tension leave his shoulders. The fight was over. Theori turned around. He looked back at the group and then directly at Bel, covered in blood and still holding his arm out after casting the fireball. He dropped his axe, bent over, and started laughing so hard his armor creaked. Chapter 18: The One In Which Actions Have Consequences The first time Theori had seen Belmont, the man had been tumbling down the dune like a cannon ball with an Ursod only steps behind him. Theori had been stirring the camp stew, tossing in chunks of meat and vegetables and thickening the bubbling stock over a low fire. Seven had been the first to notice the crazed man, and was equally quick to react. Crackling energy lept from his hands and struck the beast down, leaving the camp smelling of burned hair and crisped fat. Belmont seemed unfazed. This, however, wasn¡¯t the first time that Theori had truly seen the man he came to know as Belmont. It was after the snake appeared. Mephisto. If Theori had to put a finger on it, the first time he genuinely saw Belmont was when he took a harpoon and pierced the side of the Ursod as it charged him moments later. This was the Belmont that he would come to know and understand. Skill can be faked. Resoluteness is fickle in the face of mortality. What Theori saw was determination. Anger and confusion, as well, but it was the determination that made him look at Belmont differently than he had just a moment before, and he knew that Gracious, the leader of the group, had seen it, too. That¡¯s why it came as no surprise for him to see Belmont walking out of camp with Gracious the next morning, shortly after the group returned from the early hunt. He wasn¡¯t sure how that would end, given Gracious¡¯ habit of stitching up complications before they got out of hand, but it wasn¡¯t Theori¡¯s business. He was the muscle, and he owed nothing to either of the men. So, he went back to cooking the stew after dragging Julo into Scalp¡¯s tent to get his leg patched up. If he¡¯d have known what he would learn a few hours later, he would have done things differently. Theori didn¡¯t like that about himself. When he looked at Belmont, he saw determination. When he looked back at how he¡¯d been treating others since he joined Black Lerabo, he didn¡¯t see what he saw in Belmont. He¡¯d been acting cowardly, and it took a person like Belmont to make him realize that. So, when Belmont stood against Seven after saying that he¡¯d already killed Porvo, Nim, and Gracious, Theori knew he had to change his attitude. Not because there was some fear of Belmont that drove his actions, but because he knew that what had happened had been the right thing. He knew that Belmont, a stranger, had done in a day what others had spent years avoiding. On an Extinction World, there are no rules. Evil walks through the wildlands with the same gait it uses to skulk through the halls of politicians. It¡¯s easy to let that happen, because it was what was expected. It doesn¡¯t matter that on any other civilized world it would be punished. On an Extinction World, it was just how things were done. So Theori drew his axe and held it against Seven. ¡°Leave.¡± It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d had to settle Seven, but it was the first time in a long time that he¡¯d stood up for someone other than himself. Because of Belmont. The next few hours had been a blur. The plan, while rudimentary, was as good as anything that he could have come up with on his own. Julo had actually surprised him with his tactical acumen. The man portrayed the simple blacksmith so well that Theori had almost pushed back on his suggestions out of principal until he realized that the man was right when he called out the archer¡¯s vantage spots. When Theori had next seen Belmont step out of the forest with Mephisto, blood on his knife and hands, he didn¡¯t see the dead eyes of a man well in over his head. He saw that same determination from the night before. It was easy to feel calm at that moment. To believe that it was all under control. Mephisto went after the archer, Belmont took care of the back line. Just like the plan. Never a faltering step. It was only a few minutes later, and he was chasing Seven away from the camp again. He didn¡¯t want to kill the boy, but he wouldn¡¯t have hesitated if he¡¯d caught him. There was something inside of the Mage that shook him, a kind of twisted, hateful rage. He turned back to Belmont, still standing with his arm outstretched, still covered in blood, looking every bit the hero of the battle that he was. And he laughed. The moment was too perfect not too. It was a deep laugh that came from somewhere in his past. The laugh was cut short when Belmont didn¡¯t move. Instead, rigid as stone, he fell to the side, landing with a thud in the damp sand, and started foaming from the mouth. The snake, Mephisto, was on his chest faster than anyone could reach him. It reared up at Julo and himself, hissing and spitting as it defended its master. When he took a step forward, the serpent struck outward like lightning, fending off his progress. In the end, the only person who could get close to Bel had been Scalp, or Yillie, as he liked to be called. ¡°What happened?¡± He asked, though he already knew. Yillie confirmed it. ¡°Aether sickness.¡± Julo cautiously stepped towards the fallen man, still wary of the snake. ¡°How?¡± Yillie shook his head while taking vitals. ¡°No idea, but there is much that I do not know about Belmont. I don¡¯t think he is playing by the same rules as the rest of us, or if he is, he has bent them.¡± Theori took a step back and turned his gaze towards the forest. He wasn¡¯t looking for Seven anymore, but giving himself a clean view to clear his mind. Yillie had told everyone that Bel had been Tier Zero, and most of the men had chalked up his kill of the Ursod to one-in-a-million luck, himself included. Then, when he said he¡¯d killed Gracious, as well as Porvo and Nim, he¡¯d been suspicious, but again sided on luck, or even help, from Mephisto. After this battle, though, he knew Yillie was right. There was something else to him. He turned back. ¡°What can I do to help?¡± Yillie looked at both him and Julo. ¡°Were there any other salves in the supplies?¡± He and Julo shook their heads in the negative. Yillie sighed. ¡°Carry him back to my tent, then, gently. And find some fresh water, something not half-way to mud like we¡¯ve been drinking.¡± They walked to Bel, careful of Mephisto, though the snake had calmed dramatically. Julo took his feet and Theori put his hands under his shoulder. They lifted in unison and carried him quickly to Yillie¡¯s tent. Theori looked back to the tree line as they entered. He wondered if Seven was watching, or if he¡¯d ran. He didn¡¯t like the prospects of either scenario. They placed Bel down on the cot and Yillie walked over. ¡°Give me some room. I need to study him. And get me that damned water!¡±
It was several more hours before Belmont awoke. The rain had stopped, clearing the sky overhead of clouds, and leaving them in the distance for the setting sun to color in shades of fuchsia and garnet. Theori was sitting on a stump of driftwood outside of the tent when he heard Belmont make the first sound he had since the battle come from within. ¡°Fuck.¡± Yillie stepped from the tent. ¡°He¡¯s awake. Bring some stew and we¡¯ll see if he can keep it down.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Theori walked to the bubbling pot and scooped some of it into a bowl. The steam from it rose, and in the early evening chill, it condensed on the front of his armor as he carried it to the tent. Inside, Bel was sitting on the edge of the cot with his leather armor and shirts folded in a pile beside him, the snake curled up on the other side. Julo and Yillie had taken up seats in some of the simple chairs that the doctor had brought with him. Slight bruises covered Bel¡¯s torso and biceps, typical of battle, but aside from that, he was unmarred. Theori handed the bowl over to him, and Bel took it gently. He paused with it in front of his face and inhaled the vapors. ¡°Thank you, chef.¡± Theori smiled and gave a quick bow before returning to the flap. Bel called from behind, ¡°Don¡¯t leave. We need to talk. All of us.¡± Theori turned around and looked at the others, who then, in turn looked to Bel. Bel took a slurping spoonful of the steamy stew and let his head lull backwards with his eyes closed. ¡°Goddamn, that¡¯s a good stew.¡± Theori chuckled. ¡°Thanks.¡± Bel took another bite and set the bowl down beside him. ¡°Alright. I need to get this all sorted out, because I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I probably shouldn¡¯t just start trusting strangers. Yillie has warned me against it already, but I¡¯m not going to get anywhere without some hard facts, and fast. So, fuck it. If it¡¯s na?ve, then it¡¯s na?ve, but I can¡¯t just jump in the water without knowing what''s at the bottom, you know? So, if any of you have any plans to betray me, or sell me to the king, or whatever, just fucking tell me now. I can barely lift a spoon, so I won¡¯t put up much of a fight.¡± Theori felt his chest tighten. He looked at Julo and Yillie. ¡°If either of you are gonna try anything, you¡¯ll have to go through me.¡± Julo chuckled and looked at Yillie. ¡°Me, too. So, don¡¯t do anything stupid, Yillie.¡± Yillie held up his hands. ¡°I just saved his life. Why are you all looking at me?¡± Bel laughed, and then winced and held his ribs. ¡°Besides, I think Mephisto might have something to say about it if any of us did.¡± Bel looked at the snake curled up on the cot beside him. It was nearly as large as the man, but looked small on the bed next to him. Bel reached over and ran a hand along the snake, who flitted his tongue. ¡°Meph is my best friend, and honestly, probably the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. So, yeah, we¡¯re a package deal.¡± ¡°Is that what we need to talk about? Young Mephisto?¡± Yillie asked. Bel nodded. ¡°Yeah, kinda. I guess I should start at the beginning.¡± Theori listened as Bel recounted the last day, literally. From a separation with his partner, to a murder in a tavern, and then the end of his world. He talked about a prison, but when he got to the Luminis judge, Yillie stopped him. ¡°You met a Luminis? One of the First Victors?¡± Bel nodded. Theori had heard of them, but had never seen one. Judging by Julo and Yillie¡¯s reaction, neither had they. Julo interrupted, ¡°What was it like?¡± Bel thought for a moment. ¡°Like a sentient cloud with anger issues? I don¡¯t know. It was the first real alien-type thing I¡¯d ever seen. Honestly, I still can¡¯t really parse it. It was scary as fuck, though, that¡¯s for sure.¡± He reached over and ran a hand across Mephisto. Theori was starting to understand their relationship now. Bel continued through the story, talking about the binding and the mark of judgement, and stopped there to ask a question. ¡°What does the mark mean, exactly? Something about 100 years of penance, or whatever.¡± Theori had never heard of a mark before. Julo and Yillie both looked at each other, though, and the younger man answered the question. ¡°The mark and the hundred years are two different things. The hundred years have already passed. It explains why you weren¡¯t here to claim your kingdom. You¡¯ve been asleep the whole time.¡± Bel leaned back and shook his head. ¡°Fucking dickhead judge.¡± There was another moment, and then he looked at everyone. ¡°I¡¯m old as fuck, then.¡± Yillie smiled. ¡°Time and age are relative. Some people will spend a thousand years in stasis between stars. They aren¡¯t a thousand years older when they arrive.¡± Bel lowered his eyes. ¡°Right. Everyone¡¯s a fuckin¡¯ alien.¡± He looked at the three men again. ¡°You all are from different planets? Not from here? Eon?¡± All of them nodded, and Bel held up a hand. ¡°We¡¯ll circle back to that. What about the mark?¡± Julo continued. ¡°A mark is a guild thing, sort of. You¡¯ve been marked by a Luminis. The Luminis control Aurorium, the largest of the main guilds. That means that if someone were to kill you, they could take your mark to the guild for a bounty. Because you are low level, the bounty wouldn¡¯t be much, but because it comes from Aurorium, it would be substantial for someone who isn¡¯t a part of that guild.¡± Bel sighed and said, ¡°Awesome,¡± then paused before continuing. ¡°How do you know all this?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been with Mythra for a while now. I¡¯ve seen a few marks come across my anvil. Most people, in lieu of taking a cash payout, will get some equipment. The exchange rate is better, because the equipment is free advertising for the guild. So, I would forge stuff for anyone with a bounty to claim.¡± Bel sighed again. ¡°Right, Mythra. We¡¯re gonna have to come back to that one, too. But at least now I understand the mark.¡± Theori listened as he continued on with the story, until ending with, ¡°¡­and I couldn¡¯t move. I was just frozen there. I remember falling, but not hitting the ground. Then I woke up.¡± Yillie nodded along and then leaned back in his chair. ¡°There is still one thing you aren¡¯t telling us.¡± Bel looked at him and then held up his hand. ¡°Yeah. The ring. I skipped it because I have a feeling it¡¯s going to get the most questions, and I can¡¯t answer any of them. It¡¯s called Ring of the Concordant. It has an inscription around the inside: ¡®Alone we can do so little; together, we can do so much.¡¯ A woman from my world, Helen Keller, was the one who said it. Aside from that, though, I have no idea what it does. What I can tell you, though, is that it lets me share perception with Meph here. When I¡¯m wearing it, I can see heat, and at night. I can smell and taste more¡ª¡± Theori cut him off. ¡°Is that why you like the stew so much?¡± Bel smiled. He tugged the ring off and blinked a few times before picking up the stew and eating another bite. ¡°Nope, still great stew, chef.¡± That was a good feeling. Bel slid the ring back on. ¡°So, that¡¯s all I¡¯ve got. What happened, doc? Why did I black out again?¡± Yillie took a moment while looking at the ceiling, and then answered. ¡°Exhaustion. Not the normal kind, though. It comes from pushing your Aether too hard. You have a bond, which is typically safe, however, with the ring, and its enhancements to the bond, you over exerted yourself. You were pulling so much Aether into your body, and releasing it just as quickly, that it worked like a siphon, and you couldn¡¯t close it off until you were empty.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°Yeah. Fuck.¡± Yillie continued. ¡°The two men you met, Balthazar and Melchior. Do you have any way to contact them? They seem like they are guild related. Are they with Mythra?¡± Bel quickly shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think they are. At least, I hope not. And no, I can¡¯t contact them. The only thing I have is my phone and GASPAR, whatever that is.¡± Julo chimed in. ¡°The would have been cut off from the planet yesterday, literally. Just as Bel¡¯s hundred years ended. The judge timed it like that, I¡¯d bet.¡± ¡°Goddamnit.¡± Theori saw the regret crossing Bel¡¯s face, and he put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°You did the right thing, telling the judge off. Maybe it didn¡¯t work out in your favor, but we shouldn¡¯t ever turn down an opportunity to stand up for ourselves.¡± He said it to Bel, but he needed to hear it just as much himself. Bel smiled. ¡°Yeah. Well, maybe next time I can temper my words a little better.¡± Julo chuckled. ¡°Any blacksmith will tell you, tempering needs fire. Lower the heat, and you¡¯ll get brittle steel.¡± Bel sat quietly for a moment, and Theori tried to think of something to say, but nothing sounded right in his head. It was good, though. Sometimes silence was nice. Bel reached down and ran his hand across the snake again before speaking. ¡°Alright. How long will it take to get to Tothers?¡± Theori looked at him. The determination in his eyes was back. ¡°You¡¯re still going to go?¡± Bel nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta see this through. If not for me¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°The villagers.¡± Theori finished. ¡°Yeah. Good King Graham has to answer for that shit.¡± Theori felt a warm sensation in his chest, and it stirred something within. ¡°We can do it in four days if the weather doesn¡¯t turn bad.¡± His response was resolute. Bel looked at him. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me, then?¡± Theori looked at Julo and Yillie. They both nodded. ¡°Yeah. We are. There is something we need to figure out first, though.¡± Bel looked at him. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Seven. He¡¯ll move faster than us, and you can bet that the first thing he does is run to the guild, and they¡¯ll go straight to the king. By the time we get there, we¡¯ll be wanted men.¡± Yillie and Julo nodded in agreement. Bel sighed. ¡°Shit.¡± He looked at everyone. ¡°I''m sorry I dragged you all into this. I didn''t think about it.¡± Meph flitted his tongue and bumped his nose against Bel''s arm, as if dismissing the apology. Theori wonder just how much of that was because of the bond, and how much was just their relationship. Julo shook his head. ¡°We knew what we were getting into. The moment we heard Gracious was dead, we knew there would be questions. We¡¯ll have to clear our names, or figure something else out.¡± Yillie leaned forward. ¡°I was never much for the guild life, anyway. Besides, I¡¯m the king¡¯s man, and as far as I¡¯m concerned, that hasn¡¯t changed. It just so happens, I quite like the new king.¡± Bel laughed. ¡°Theori. Is it going to be a problem for you?¡± Theori felt his chest tighten. The guild was his life. It had given him everything¡ªhis place, his purpose. And yet¡­ He thought of Gracious, of Nim. Of all the men he¡¯d fought beside, knowing full well what they were. He thought of Belmont, standing bloodied on the beach, and of the clear certainty in his eyes. He exhaled and nodded. ¡°No, not a problem. Let¡¯s get some rest. We¡¯ll strike camp in the morning and make our preparations, then.¡± Chapter 19: The One In Which Yillie And Bel Wax Philosophical The next morning, Belmont awoke to the sounds of the camp being torn down around him. He was sore from the battle, still, and despite the best medicine that magic could afford, sore muscles were just part of the game. He slung his legs over the side of the cot in Yillie¡¯s tent and saw Meph curled up at the foot of the bed. ¡°Hey bud. Sleep well?¡± Meph flitted his tongue. Bel looked over at the shirts and armor on the table next to him, and grabbed the heavy off-white one that he¡¯d put over his Blockbuster tee. There were splatters of blood all over it, and he doubted it was anything he could get rid of. He wasn¡¯t sure what the dress code was wherever they were going, but crime scene attendee was probably off the table. He grabbed the Blockbuster shirt and held it up. Some of the blood had made it through, or maybe it was some of his. His stomach twisted, and he ignored it. The shirt was stretched, and when he put it on, the first thing he noticed was that the neck was almost twice as wide as it should have been, making it look more like a V-neck than he was comfortable with. Between the stretched T-shirt and his stained, wrinkled jeans, he felt like the guy that¡¯s been crashing on a friend¡¯s couch for a month while he¡¯s ¡°in between things.¡± Not a great look. He bent down and put an arm out for Meph. The snake crawled up and over his shoulders and Bel chuckled. ¡°You might be getting too big for ¡®shoulder snake¡¯, Meph.¡± Meph flitted an unamused tongue. ¡°Any bigger and maybe you can start carrying me, huh?¡± No response. Bel walked out of the tent and squinted into the bright morning sun. Any evidence that it had rained the day before had vanished, and the bright clear blue sky had returned. The camp was nearly empty, with only Yillie¡¯s tent remaining. Everything else had been broken down and stacked together near the fire. It was a lot of shit. All of those tents, the gear, belongings¡ªall piled up. He looked over to Julo, who was hauling some things from the area where Gracious¡¯ tent had been. ¡°How are we gonna take all this with us?¡± Julo looked at him. ¡°Ahh, g¡¯morning. We aren¡¯t. We¡¯ll wrap it up here to weatherproof it and then leave it. Maybe we¡¯ll come back later if we really want it, but that¡¯s unlikely. What¡¯ll probably happen is someone else¡¯ll come along and make use of it.¡± Bel nodded. It made sense. ¡°Oh, alright.¡± He looked around and then realized something. ¡°Umm, where are the bodies?¡± Julo pointed a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°We dug a hole and buried them. I saved one of their swords for you. It¡¯s pretty basic, but I saw you using it, figured you might want to keep one. Oh, and this!¡± He walked over and handed a leather belt to Bel. It was simple, and darkly tanned, but then Bel saw why it was important. It had a sheath for his knife. Bel took it, and the sword and scabbard, too. ¡°Thanks! Is there something I can do to help?¡± ¡°Umm, you can st¡ª" Yillie cut him off. ¡°You can eat some breakfast.¡± The man was sitting on the other side of the campfire with a plate of something in his hands and an open book on his lap. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much the Aether Sickness affected you, but I don¡¯t want to risk it. We won¡¯t have a far walk today, but no reason not to be careful.¡± Julo looked over at Bel. ¡°Yeah, good call. Besides, the camp is almost clear. Once Theori is back, we¡¯ll head out.¡± ¡°Where¡¯d he go?¡± ¡°Up north to the dock. Seven probably took our boat, but he wanted to see if there was anything else for us to use.¡± Bel furrowed his brow. ¡°Shit. I didn¡¯t even think about that.¡± ¡°Yeah. I told him to not even bother. Even if there had been something for us beside the boat we came in on, there¡¯s no way Seven would have left it alone. At best, he¡¯d cut the mooring lines. At worse, he¡¯d sabotage it. But he wanted to check anyway, and he¡¯s too big for me to stop.¡± Bel laughed. Coming from someone as big as Julo, that was saying something. He walked over to the fire and sat down on a piece of driftwood beside Yillie, who handed him a plate of food. He looked at it for a moment, because it seemed so familiar, but it wasn¡¯t right. Meph lowered his head down to the plate and sniffed around for a moment before returning to his perch. That¡¯s when it dawned on Bel. It wasn¡¯t Earth food. Nothing was Earth food. The stew had been alien stew. This was a plate of alien breakfast. The thought excited him. Not that he¡¯d run out of things to try on Earth, but there were only so many ways to stack meat, dairy, and carbs together. Spice was the name of the game, and there was an entire universe of new spices to try out. ¡°Fuck yeah!¡± Yillie glanced up at him with a confused look. ¡°Sorry. Still getting used to this alien stuff. I was a cook back on Earth. I love to eat new shit, and you just handed me a plate full of it.¡± Yillie chuckled and nodded. ¡°A cook, huh? Well, between you and Theori, we should eat well for the next few days.¡± Bel was only half listening to Yillie. His mind was on the plate in front of him. It was mostly three things. The first was some of the stew meat. He was sure he recognized it. Then there was some kind of charred plant that had been sliced to reveal a soft yellow interior, like mashed potatoes that had been shoved inside a celery stalk. The last thing was a chunk of bread. Like, actual bread. It shouldn¡¯t have shocked Bel like it did¡ªleavening and fermentation were practically a universal constant, but it was still nice to see something familiar. The only other thing on the plate was the sauce, which covered the meat and vegetable and soaked into the chunk of bread. Bel¡¯s stomach rumbled, and he obliged, grabbing a chunk of the stew meat and tossing it into his mouth. ¡°Oh, fuck yeah.¡± Yillie didn¡¯t look up that time, but Bel saw him silently stifle a laugh. As much as he wanted to savor and dissect the meal, he was more hungry than he¡¯d realized, and instead had to satisfy himself with the pure experience. The best part was the vegetable, whatever it was. It was like bone marrow, but in plant form. It was so rich and flavorful. He made a mental note to ask Theori what it was when he got back. He mopped up the last of the sauce with the bread and set the plate by the fire while he swallowed the final bite. Yillie set the book down and looked at him. ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Bel knew it was more than a ¡®How are you?¡¯ question. ¡°I¡¯m alright, I think. A little sore, but alright.¡± He gave a thoughtful pause and continued. ¡°Thanks again for what you¡¯ve done for me. Twice now. No one has ever saved my life before.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not some miracle worker. I¡¯m a healer, and not even a powerful one. I simply do what I can with the tools I have.¡± Bel locked eyes with him. ¡°Don¡¯t be modest. You saved my life. For me, that makes you pretty fucking special. So, when I say thank you, I truly mean it. Thank you.¡± Yillie smiled, but Bel could see some hurt behind it. However, now wasn¡¯t the time to press the issue. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. It didn¡¯t matter, though, as Yillie already had a conversation changer in the chamber. ¡°So, your snake is named Mephisto. That is the name of a devil. Why did you name him that?¡± Bel raised an eyebrow. ¡°How do you know the name is the name of a devil?¡± ¡°The Aether. It isn¡¯t the same name to me, but the Aether gives me your meaning.¡± Bel tilted his head. ¡°Wow. That¡¯s actually really cool. I figured it stopped with translation, but it goes further, huh? Alright. Well, yeah, he is named after a devil. On Earth, we had a story called Faust. The most famous version of the story is a play by a man named Goethe. In the play, the main character, Faust, gets bored with life and sells his soul to Mephistopheles for knowledge and pleasure.¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°We have similar stories where I am from.¡± ¡°Yeah, selling your soul for power was a pretty common theme on Earth, too.¡± ¡°In your story, what becomes of Faust?¡± Bel took a deep breath. ¡°Depends who is telling the story. Sometimes, he continues to live a good life, and he is taken to paradise. Other times, his soul is forfeit, and he is damned.¡± Yillie laughed. ¡°That is another common theme that our worlds share. As soon as a story hits too close to home, the ending changes to make the teller or the audience feel better.¡± ¡°Yep. Sounds about right. I still love the story, though. And when I picked up Meph, I needed to give him a name, because the one he had before was terrible, so I went with ¡®Mephisto.¡¯¡± ¡°It is a good name. But, more importantly, what ending to the story do you prefer?¡± Bel thought for a moment and rubbed Meph¡¯s head before he answered. ¡°The one where he is damned.¡± ¡°Why is that?¡± ¡°Consequences. Faust lives in the real world, and the real world has consequences. In the story, he does some terrible things, and there should be consequences.¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°I agree.¡± ¡°Speaking of consequences, I¡¯ve had something on my mind. I don¡¯t like the way things ended the Seven.¡± Yillie cocked his head. ¡°How so?¡± ¡°I taunted him with his book. I don¡¯t like that. It¡¯s bully behavior, and I should be better than that. Even if the kid deserves to get his ass kicked, I need to be better.¡± A low voice came up from behind Bel. ¡°What¡¯re you two talking about?¡± It was Theori. Bel admired his sneakiness. ¡°Just sharing stories,¡± Yillie said. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got bad news. No boats at the docks.¡± Bel exhaled. ¡°Fuck.¡± ¡°Yeah. But there is probably one down at the village. I doubt they crossed the island every time they wanted to leave. We¡¯ll head there and see what we can find.¡± Bel felt his heart sink. He¡¯d hoped he¡¯d be able to avoid going back there. Seemed like there wasn¡¯t much of a chance of that now. Julo stepped up. ¡°Nothing?¡± Theori nodded to him. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll head to the village.¡± ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯m done with the camp.¡± He tossed the leather armor and white shirt to Bel that he¡¯d left in the tent. ¡°Yillie, you got anything in the tent you want to keep?¡± Yillie shook his head and held up the book. ¡°Already got it.¡± Bel looked at the armor and the shirt. ¡°You all don¡¯t have any clothes I can borrow, do you?¡± Julo and Theori both looked at each other and laughed. ¡°Yeah, no, ok, laugh it up, Hans and Franz.¡± ¡°There are some clothes in the chest we dragged out of Gracious¡¯ tent. I think he was planning on getting a new body, hence the smaller leather armor and the clothes. Good news is, they¡¯re fresh, cause his rotting ass couldn¡¯t fit into them.¡± Bel stood up and walked over to the enormous chest sitting beside the rest of the camp supplies. He popped open the lid and looked inside. It was full of awesome shit. He yanked out a pair of heavy dark wool pants and then found a decent long sleeve shirt. Below them was a pair of leather boots, some socks, and a cape. He laughed, remembering Balthazar¡¯s traveling cloak. He grabbed it all and walked over to Yillie¡¯s tent with Meph. Five minutes later, he stepped out, feeling like a new man. ¡°Damn!¡± Julo shouted. Bel nodded. ¡°Fuck yeah! This shit is dope. Why didn¡¯t you tell me he had shit like this in there?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t think you¡¯d care, none of it¡¯s Aether Forged.¡± Bel spun around, showing off the new digs. The black leather boots gripped the sand as he spun, and the cloak wrapped around him in the ocean breeze. ¡°Help me get the armor on. I still can¡¯t work the buckles.¡± Julo walked over and took the leather from Bel. Just as easy as the day before, he slid it over Bel, pulled the cloak up and over, and then buckled it all in minutes. He finished it by putting the belt around Bel and adjusting it to fit with the leather before snapping the scabbard and sheath for the knife into place. ¡°I gotta learn how to do that.¡± Bel looked down and admired the armor. He felt like a warrior now, even if he had no idea what that was supposed to feel like. Julo nodded, ¡°Yeah. You do. I¡¯m not your squire.¡± He smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t get snippy. Keep doing your best and one day maybe you¡¯ll get promoted to page.¡± ¡°Of course, your highness.¡± Julo gave an exaggerated low bow. It had been a joke, but it all came crashing down around Bel. He didn¡¯t like that at all. The ill feeling of it went away quickly, but he was pretty sure Julo noticed. He bent over and picked up Meph. The snake wrapped around his shoulders and, for a moment, seemed to writhe on the new fabric, like a dog circling a new bed for a comfortable spot. Bel ran a hand over the scales and the snake calmed. Theori walked to them. ¡°Alright, five minutes and we¡¯re gone.¡± He looked at Julo. ¡°Start wrapping up the rest of the stuff. I¡¯ll get this tent down.¡± ¡°Hold on.¡± Bel jogged over to the chest that he pulled the clothes from. He dropped his old clothes in and shut the lid with a thud. Immediately, a weight felt lifted from him. That was the last of old Bel. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m ready.¡± He said it to himself as much as anyone else.
It didn¡¯t take long to get to the outskirts of the village. Bel relished in the fresh air and the fresh clothes. He was discovering new pockets all the time! The joy of discovery was quickly overshadowed by the stench of the village, though. The rain the day before had put the fire out, and the high sun overhead was now heating the damp corpses. Bel stopped before they were within eyesight of the village square and took a moment. Julo turned towards him. ¡°We can go ahead without you, and then just come back if we find a boat.¡± Bel looked at him and hardened his eyes. ¡°No, I¡¯m good. Thanks, though.¡± Julo just nodded and turned back around. They came around the side of the same house that he and Gracious had, past the new growth plants on the ground. It reminded him he meant to ask about the breakfast vegetable. It left his mind as quickly as it came, though, as they stepped around the corner and into the courtyard. The bodies were all blackened now, charred beyond recognition aside from small pieces of buried flesh that had been exposed as ashen corpses fell from the pile in the ocean wind. Yillie held a hand over his nose as he walked, but Julo and Theori made no reaction. On the other side of the courtyard, exactly where Bel had left them, were the bodies of Porvo and Gracious on the ground, with Nim still tied to the post, head slumped with a dark red stain down the front of his armor. He felt Meph tense momentarily on his shoulder, but then relax. As they walked past the bodies, Theori turned to look at them. He took a moment on each of them, studying the corpses of his fallen guild mates, and then turned to Bel. ¡°You really did it, huh?¡± Bel swallowed hard and fought off a dizzy spell. He inhaled a long breath and then nodded. ¡°Yeah. I did. I¡¯m gonna be real with you, though. I¡¯d really rather not talk about it.¡± Theori nodded, and they continued past. Bel let out the breath he had inhaled without even realizing he¡¯d been holding it. Past the courtyard, it was a short walk down a narrow path towards the shoreline and where they hoped to find a boat. Bel looked around at the trees. They all seemed so familiar to him¡ª ¡°Bel!¡± Julo yelled from behind as Bel stepped down and felt something tighten under his foot, just a slight pressure as his boot touched the ground. Before he could react, Julo charged into his back at full speed, colliding against Bel with a crack that knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him flying, knocking Meph clear of his shoulders. There was a mechanical clang and a crunch, just before Bel landed, and with a groan he rolled over and lept back up to see what had happened. Julo lay on his side, blood gushing from the stump where his left arm had been. Beside him on the ground, next to his severed limb, was a leg snapper. Yillie was already next to him, and Bel watched as the man went to work. His outstretched hands glowed faintly, and as if there had been a bubble of silence around Julo, it popped, and the man let out a deafening scream as he rolled away from Yillie. ¡°Stay down, Julo!¡± Yillie yelled. Julo jumped to his feet, as though he¡¯d never taken the hit. Bel looked at him, confused, and then understood. It was the Warring Dead spell. Yillie had cast it to stop Julo from going into shock. ¡°Julo!¡± Theori¡¯s voice broke like a tidal wave, and Julo immediately stopped. The broken man looked down at his arm on the ground, and the realization set in. Yillie looked at Theori with pleading eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t have a way to stop the bleeding. My healing spell won¡¯t be powerful enough.¡± Theori looked back at him, and then to Julo, who was holding on to the shoulder just above the stump, sweat pouring from his face, taking gasping breaths. Something snapped in Bel. ¡°Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!¡± He ran to Yillie¡¯s side. ¡°Get ready with whatever you can do to patch him up. I¡¯ll stop the bleeding.¡± Yillie snapped his eyes to Bel. ¡°What?¡± Julo nodded. He knew what Belmont had planned. ¡°Do it.¡± Bel thrust his hand out, and a gout of flame spewed forward. It wasn¡¯t aimed at Julo¡¯s chest, but just to the left of him, so that the flames cauterized the wound. As soon as the fire died, Yillie ran to the man. Julo, still under the effects of Warring Dead, had felt none of the pain, but the expression in his eyes told Bel that the sight of his own flesh burning away was enough to push him to the edge. His knees buckled, and the big man went down hard. Yillie didn¡¯t stop. Light flooded from his hands as the skin knitted itself back together like clay until there was nothing left but the pink scar of new flesh. He fell back onto the ground, panting. Meph, who until now had been beside Bel, crawled to the fallen physician and climbed into his lap. Bel stepped cautiously to Julo. The man was shaking, but Bel realized it wasn¡¯t because of fear or pain. He was sobbing. Bel kneeled next to him, but didn¡¯t speak, didn¡¯t reach out to touch him. He just kneeled next to him. Several minutes passed, and Julo looked up at Bel, the whites of his eyes blotched red. ¡°It was my fault. I cleared the bodies. I didn¡¯t look for the trap. I knew you had set it, but I didn¡¯t look for it. Seven took it. If I¡¯d have been better¡ª¡° Bel stopped him. ¡°Don¡¯t say that. That¡¯s bullshit. We can¡¯t account for every possibility. This isn¡¯t your fault. This was Seven.¡± Theori stuck a hand out, and Julo looked at him. He reached up with his remaining arm and took the hand. Theori pulled him up and brushed the dirt and debris off of his clothes and then brought him in for a hug. Bel turned away and looked back at Yillie. ¡°You alright?¡± Yillie ran a hand across Meph¡¯s back. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m fine.¡± He paused, and then with earnest eyes said, ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°For keeping a level head and doing what needed to be done.¡± Bel pursed his lips and looked him in the eyes. ¡°We both did what needed to be done.¡± Interlude - The View From On High ¡°Siora Vallen.¡± Siora didn¡¯t respond. Instead, she continued observing the rain that fell through the open dome in the arena. It trickled down old stone work, clung to ivy and moss, and eventually, as the forces of nature proved too strong, it would let go of its grip and fall to the ground. Then it was no more. Just another part of the whole¡ªa true drop in the bucket. ¡°Siora Vallen.¡± The voice was growing impatient. Slowly, she leveled her head against the horizon. Empty seats, dark corners, and extinguished lamps cluttered the periphery, but not her world. Her world was much smaller. It was the dirt that would loosen her grip as she ran. It was the wooden barriers that would try to hold her. It was the air that would never be enough to fill her lungs. And it was the rain that she would dance between as she moved. ¡°Siora¡ª" She stepped forward from the side of the arena. The voice sighed, and finished, ¡°Vallen.¡± ¡°Here,¡± she said, and turned. Behind her, toward the voice, were the only two occupants of the arena. The first, the loud one, was a Spirare, one of the machine species, though it was different, even for one of their kind. This one was a host¡ªa pod¡ªfor the true master of the form, a Miasmaris. For all the metal and glass that made the body, the genuine horror was the gaseous form contained within, a sentient poison vapor, capable of dissolving flesh like sugar in water. For all of that terror, though, he was still only the second most powerful person in the room. The other one¡ªthe one that sat silently beside the Spirare¡ªthat was the one that gave her the chills. Golden hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, murderous intent. Even from this distance, he was a man to be wary of. He was everything that anyone could ever want to be. Attractive. Strong. Charismatic. Powerful. He was all of those things and more. Siora knew the names of both of them. The Spirare was Yyne, the advisor. The other man was the King. King Michael Belmont Graham. ¡°Please state your full name, primary stat, archetype, and subversion.¡± The Spirare¡¯s voice was uncannily human, despite having none of the physical qualities that would make it so. Siora looked between the two of them and spoke her answer over the falling rain. ¡°Siora Vallen. Wisdom. Mage. Wind Rider.¡± The king leaned over and whispered something to the Spirare. If she¡¯d have been able to see his lips, she would have heard the words, but strands of flaxen hair obscured her vision. Instead, the magical trinket that hung from her ear only returned the sounds of rain that trickled down around her. Another moment, and the two looked back to the arena. ¡°Lrang Hiulmor.¡± When the man named Lrang stepped out from the hall on the other side of the arena, it was obvious distance wasn¡¯t the only thing that separated him from Siora. His robes were clean and new, hers were frayed, torn, stained by earth and blood. His knotted staff looked like it was more glass than wood, while the ringed chakrams on her arms were dull and dinged. The beads around his neck practically sang with Aether, and the beaten plate attached to her armor was barely more than cast iron. The man turned his hood up as he walked into the arena. Siora wasn¡¯t sure if it was to shield from the rain, or to intimidate her. She smirked. If it was the latter, he would have to try harder. Yyne spoke. ¡°State your full name, primary stat, archetype, and subversion.¡± ¡°Lrang Hiulmor. Willpower. Summoner. Artillerist.¡± The confidence of the voice matched the casualness of his stride. Siora smirked. Summoners were nothing to write off, but she¡¯d never backed down from a fight. ¡®Artillerist¡¯ told her he was using Dexterity as his secondary stat like she was, which was good. As tank-y as a Summoner was, he wasn¡¯t a wall. Yyne called from the stands, his voice now smarmy and aloof. ¡°The rules of the battle are simple. First to land three strikes is the victor. Killing blows are not permitted. You are being graded on your performance. Even in victory, mistakes will cost you. Honor your King and then begin.¡± Lrang snapped both hands across his chest and bowed low. Suck up. Siora turned and bowed slightly. As she raised her head, she smelled the Aether on the rain. From behind, a fist of magical essence sailed towards her turned back. Her rival, it seems, only had honor for show. She turned, raised her forearm to guard, and the blow glanced off¡ªthe magic sizzling as it faded beside her. She felt her heart quicken, and blood warmed the damp cold that had set in her limbs. The next blow was just as fast as the first, but Siora was more than ready for it this time. The best defense is avoiding the attack all together, which is exactly what she did. A third Aethereal punch sailed wide as she stepped in, sliding across the mud until she was face to face with the object of her assault. The small cloud of manifested magic. She looked at it and smiled. It was little more than a malformed spirit, or a lifeless puff of smoke. If Lrang had taken his time casting it, maybe primed some of his Aether and summoned a more powerful ally, it might have been a threat. Instead, he¡¯d bet it all on a sneak attack. In close quarters with the summon, it would have been no issue to take it down. The long range specialty was no match for a blade at its form, but Siora knew that¡¯s what Lrang wanted. It was a distraction, a target to draw her in while he stored power for another attack. She wouldn¡¯t give him the time. The wisps of Aether wafted as she moved past them, closing the distance between herself and Lrang in two strides. The Summoner wasn¡¯t ready for a direct confrontation. He panicked and struck out with his staff, but it was quickly out-stepped. He struck again and caught nothing but air. Siora danced around him, moving her feet in tighter and tighter circles as she approached, drawing a spiral of mud on the surrounding ground. She watched him¡ªstudied him¡ªwhile he struck out wildly. He was no fighter. He was guild-made. Too specialized to be good on his own. She knew his primary stat was Willpower, and secondary was Dexterity, but she wondered if he was even Tier 1 in any other stat. She tested the waters and lashed out with a lazy punch. The rival mage jumped like a startled cat, and she laughed. There was no need to rush this. After all, she was being graded on her performance. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. She continued her moves around him, but now with a purpose more than dodging the blows. She watched his new robes twist in the air. His staff kicked mud onto them as he stumbled with each swing. Even his boots were new, and they struggled to hold the wet earth. Each strike at her was an attack against himself, as the cloak, staff, and boots worked against their master. She dodged another round of volleys from the misguided summon and then stopped suddenly behind Lrang. He twisted towards her, poised to strike again, but as he raised his staff, it fought him, twisted in his own robe. He tried to jerk it free, but the muddy ground betrayed him, and he fell onto his back. Siora chuckled as she bent over him. She reached out to his forehead with her right hand and flicked him three times right between the eyes. Thwap. Thwap. ¡­Thwap. ¡°Siora is the victor.¡± The voice of the King¡¯s assistant almost sounded amused. She stood back up and walked away, but then turned back to the man on the ground. She looked at him, caked in mud and fuming, and couldn¡¯t help herself. ¡°Your clothes are all dirty. You¡¯re gonna need some new ones.¡± She gave him a wink, and then turned back to the King, giving a repeat of her stiff bow from earlier. The King stood, and she almost fell. When he¡¯d been sitting, she hadn¡¯t been able to see what he¡¯d been wearing, but now it was in clear view. Full plate as dark as natural Aether, trimmed with silver accents, and jeweled embellishments. Draped down his back was a long, flowing cloak in the deep blue of his kingdom¡¯s colors. Across his hips was a fine leather belt that held a single rapier that gleamed in the small light that filtered into the arena from above. The same light that trickled from his golden crown. It was otherworldly. The King and his assistant walked down the stairs towards her, but a man rushed in the door behind them. He was young and gangly, but dressed well in the clean, deep blue robes of a royal mage. The man stepped quickly to Yyne and handed him a small missive. Yyne nodded to the man, and he was just as quickly dismissed, gone back through the door he¡¯d entered. Yyne unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly. The pink vaporous mass in the glass enclosure roiled and twisted as it read the words. The King turned towards him and stepped closer. This time there was no hair to block the view of his mouth as he spoke the words, and Siora tapped into the Aether in her earring to listen to what was said. ¡°We¡¯ve gotten word from one of the smaller islands to the south. He¡¯s there.¡± Yyne¡¯s voice was smooth, but there was a sense of trepidation in the words. ¡°Are we sure? Who sent word?¡± The King¡¯s voice, on the other hand, seemed to just hold back some unseen rage. ¡°A guild mage from Tolport sent word. Someone from a Mythra Guild, another mage, says there is a man claiming to be the King, and that he has killed several Guild Hunters. He says he saw the man kill a half dozen of your soldiers as well when they were sent to investigate the claims of a strange man on the island.¡± The King was silent. ¡°It all lines up, Your Majesty. He would have arrived exactly when the Aurorium representative said he would.¡± ¡°Is there anything else?¡± The gaseous, pink visage of Yyne rolled in its glass orb. ¡°Only that he has a familiar. A snake.¡± Siora saw the King¡¯s fist tighten before he spoke. ¡°Just like the description from Aurorium.¡± ¡°Indeed, Your Highness.¡± ¡°Thirty years of rule, all to be undone by some outsider. I won¡¯t let it happen. There is too much at stake.¡± Yyne nodded. The King looked at the Spirare. ¡°You have too much at stake.¡± The King¡¯s demeanor changed instantly as he turned back to Siora, who did her best impression of someone who wasn¡¯t intently listening in to something that would get her killed. He smiled as he walked towards her and clapped his velvet-gloved hands as he descended the stairs like a regal phantom. ¡°An excellent showing. You didn¡¯t even draw a weapon.¡± There was something about the words and the way he said them that weakened Siora, and she felt like some helpless barmaid in a back alley tavern. His aura was overpowering, and it only increased as he stepped towards her. Now, within a few feet, he was a monolith. Handsome would have been the word she used before, but now, looking him directly in the eyes, it was so much more. He was electric. He was dazzling. He was the most beautiful man she¡¯d ever seen. Siora didn¡¯t even really like men that much, but this one¡­ She caught herself and wondered how long it had been since he¡¯d paid her the compliment. She quickly stammered a ¡®thank you¡¯, and when she bowed this time, it was genuine. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice screamed out against the feelings invading her thoughts, but it was silenced as quickly as it came. The King turned to Yyne. ¡°Do we have any other prospects today? Perhaps one with a familiar?¡± Yyne¡¯s form twisted and then settled. ¡°Yes, we do. Shall I call her?¡± The King gave a curt nod and then looked out over the arena in expectation. ¡°Grin Julippine,¡± Yyne called. A woman¡ªno, a child¡ªstepped out from another hallway. As she approached, Siora had to wonder just how old she was. Child might have been too far in the other direction, but this girl was barely into adulthood. She was dressed plainly, but armored well, and despite her age, she carried herself like someone who knew how to handle themselves in a fight. Siora actually felt a little excited that she might have the opportunity to spar with her. ¡°Grin Julippine. Dexterity. Scout. Witch Hunter.¡± She¡¯d been watching, and she knew the rules. Yyne didn¡¯t even have to ask. Siora admired the girl¡¯s confidence. ¡°And your familiar?¡± Yyne asked. Grin put two fingers to her lips and whistled. There was a rustle from the stonework above, and Siora looked up as a large black cat lept down and landed lightly beside its master. Grin let a hand slip down to her side and scratched the cat behind the ears. ¡°Languish. Dexterity. No Archetype.¡± Again, Grin¡¯s confidence was impressive. The King nodded. ¡°I see. Impressive animal. I¡¯m not entirely familiar with the relationship between bonded entities. Can you explain your connection?¡± Grin smiled. Not the schoolgirl smile Siora was afraid she might have had towards the King just moments ago, but a smile of pride. ¡°We are bonded through Aether. Our stats are shared in so much that whichever of us has the higher stat, both of us benefit as though it were our own. In that way, having a bonded partner is a boon. However, all Aether is shared between the two, so the time to advance is doubled or more.¡± The King furrowed his brow. ¡°Ahh. I had thought as much, but bonds are quite rare, so I¡¯ve never had the pleasure of speaking with someone who enjoys one. Are there any other downsides? Any weaknesses?¡± Siora felt her stomach twist. Everyone knew the other downside. Grin¡¯s confidence faltered just slightly. ¡°Yes. There is another. If one of us dies, our tiers are subtracted from the survivor. If the survivor¡¯s tiers do not drop below zero, they only get very sick. It¡¯s called Aether Sickness. But, if their any of their stat tiers drop below zero, then they die, too.¡± The words hung heavy in the air. The explanation¡ªthe true downside to bonding¡ªwas exactly why there were so few. It was just too dangerous. Everyone knew it, and so everyone, with any sense, avoided it. The King looked between Siora, Grin, and Languish, and then back to Siora. ¡°Kill it.¡± The words were delivered so bluntly, but struck so sharply at the same time. He stared at Siora, waiting. ¡°What!?¡± Grin cried out. The King¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t budge. His blue eyes drilled into Siora¡¯s. She felt utterly compelled to follow his command. Without realizing it, she felt her hand slide up her arm towards one of the Chakrams that rested there, but she stopped herself. The King¡¯s eyes narrowed, but they never broke. They stayed locked on, even as he drew the rapier from his side. With a flick and thrust of his right hand, the blade of the sword shot out. Siora followed it, and watched the needle point pierce the forehead of the great black cat, and then withdraw. The cat didn¡¯t react. It stood, frozen, until drops of silvery tears fell from its yellow eyes. Grin screamed, but was suddenly silenced. Siora looked at her and understood why. Thick yellow-green foam erupted from her mouth and nose as she coughed and sputtered. Her eyes turned blood red as the capillaries burst from the pressure in her head. The mucousy foam began to pour from her ears, and she fell to the ground, convulsing, her cries muted in the sickly froth. After a few horrifying seconds, she was dead. Yyne took two steps back, slowly. Siora looked back to the cat, still standing exactly as it had been, but now the metal tears had hardened, and a single drop of the same metal had formed at the hole where the rapier had pierced its head. She moved. She didn¡¯t know if she would be fast enough, but she only had one thing on her mind. Escape. Up the wall, towards a pillar. Her hands found purchase in the uneven stonework and timeworn carvings until she was at the top of the open dome of the arena. She pushed off the stone and grabbed the edge, the rain-slick moss threatening to break her grip, but she held on. She had to hold on. One leg up, and then the other, and as she turned, she saw the King looking back up at her. His expression hadn¡¯t changed. Had she been too fast? Had he let her go? The questions rattled around in her brain like ball bearings, but she ignored them. It didn¡¯t matter. She had to run. She had to escape. Chapter 20: The One In Which Bel Gets A Talking To Bel didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d expected from the boat, but he was disappointed. Not that it was bad, or ugly, or anything, it was just¡­ boring. Simple wood frame, no sails, no oars, and a plain brown tarp covering. It was about thirty feet long and just as wide, which was a good size, but it was completely mundane, more of a floating platform with knee high walls than a boat. It didn¡¯t escape him that without sails and oars it didn¡¯t have any means of propulsion, but since no one else had said anything about it, he wasn¡¯t going to, either. He really didn¡¯t want to be the person who broke the heavy silence that hung over them all. Every time he looked at Julo, he felt it again, a raw hot iron ball of guilt situated somewhere between his heart and guts. The man had been quiet since it had happened. He¡¯d just picked up his arm, walked it over to the pile of burned bodies in the square, threw it on the pyre, and then walked back past everyone and down to the boat dock. Bel wasn¡¯t sure if he would have preferred the man say anything, but he knew he definitely didn¡¯t like the silence, either. Meph stayed close to him, which Bel appreciated, and Julo didn¡¯t seem to mind. Theori kept glancing sideways at him, probably waiting for the same thing Bel was¡ªsome outburst¡ªbut when nothing came, he seemed to do his best to pretend like nothing had changed. For all of them, it was Yillie that seemed to be the most affected. The older man walked with a subtle limp that Bel had never noticed before, relied more on his staff for balance, and his eyes looked as though they would drop back into his skull at any moment. Then there was the breathing. He¡¯d calmed it pretty quickly, but Bel had noticed that it was fast and short, like he¡¯d been hyperventilating. During the battle at the campsite, he¡¯d been much more active, and used his healing magic a lot more, but Bel thought he always looked in control. Now, he looked frail and beaten. Bel didn¡¯t have any proof, but he was betting it had to do with the Warring Dead spell. Maybe the spell didn¡¯t require more energy than another, but the mental toll of it¡­ Bel didn¡¯t enjoy thinking about it. Now aboard the boat, the mood hadn¡¯t changed. Each of them found a seat, some simple wooden chair. Bel watched Theori walk to the helm, where it was missing the wheel, and held a hand up to a small metal box. There was a slight lurch, and the boat moved silently on its own. He hadn¡¯t been ready for it, and instinctively reached down to grab the seat, but it didn¡¯t jerk again, so he let go cautiously. Julo looked at him and smirked, which caught Bel off guard. ¡°Magic boat. Moves on its own to a predetermined port. This one will take us to Tolport, the closest city to the north on the main island.¡± The big man¡¯s tone was so calm and even, it almost didn¡¯t register to Bel. ¡°You think I can borrow your cloak?¡± Bel stared at him. He heard the words, but they made little sense. It was so far off of what he¡¯d expected¡ª ¡°Bel?¡± Julo interrupted his thoughts. Bel blinked and grabbed the cloak by the shoulder. ¡°Oh, yeah. Sorry.¡± He twisted the clasp and released it, then stood up and walked it over to him. ¡°Thanks.¡± He took the cloak and tossed it over his left shoulder, covering the stump where his arm had been. ¡°I guess since you all are gonna stay quiet about it, I should say something.¡± Bel felt his mouth go dry. Julo put his hand on his leg and tightened it as he spoke. ¡°Yeah. It fucking sucks. And yeah, it fucking hurts. And no, I¡¯m not OK with it. But, I also don¡¯t regret it. If that trap had gotten you, it would have taken your leg off without armor, and there wouldn¡¯t have been anything we could have done to stop the bleeding. So, yeah, I don¡¯t like it, but given the alternative, I¡¯ll be alright.¡± Bel gasped a choked breath. ¡°Julo, man¡ª" Julo held up his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t. It¡¯s all good. I¡¯ve been coasting for a long time now. When I lost my forge, I just walked away. I didn¡¯t even try to fight for it. Since then, I¡¯ve been dying a little each day, and honestly, I was kinda just waiting for it to happen. As fucked as it is, I needed this.¡± He looked and met Bel¡¯s eyes. ¡°I needed you to come along. Someone had to kick the shit out of me, and it was you.¡± He laughed. ¡°I mean, not physically, but you know¡­¡± Bel shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ª" ¡°Oh no, I know. I saw the look on your face when I called you ¡®Your Highness.¡¯¡± The ball of guilt in his stomach was twisting again. ¡°You¡¯re a good man, Bel. I mean, I barely know you, but that¡¯s the feeling I get. You keep your shit together, and you don¡¯t fuck around. I can appreciate that. I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s gonna happen once we hit the big island, but if I were a betting man, I¡¯d put my money on you.¡± Bel laughed, ¡°I fucking wouldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yeah, and that¡¯s why we¡¯re all here with you. I don¡¯t want to speak for Theori and the doc, but I think we¡¯re all on the same page. You don¡¯t want it. It¡¯s yours, all the power anyone could ask for. It¡¯s in your hands. And you don¡¯t want it. That makes you better than most of the other ones sitting on thrones right now.¡± Theori walked back to the small sitting area under the tarp with the rest of them. The boat was moving at full clip now, but it was remarkably steady on the open water. He reached over and clapped a hand on both Bel and Julo¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Guild life is where people go when they don¡¯t have a future. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing because I had nowhere else to go. It was comfortable. Just follow someone else''s¡¯ orders and get paid. I was ready to die doing it. But, like Julo said, you came along, and that changed things.¡± Bel looked over at Yillie, who was nodding. There was some life returning to the old man. Meph had taken up residence across his lap, and the doctor ran a hand over the snake¡¯s scales. Bel raised an eyebrow at the group. ¡°Why the fuck are you all giving me the pep talk? Julo¡¯s the one who just lost his arm!¡± That got a chuckle out of the group, and the tension on the boat eased significantly. ¡°Alright. Well, I guess I need to figure out what the fuck I¡¯m walking into. So, let¡¯s start with some info.¡± Bel reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out his phone. The other three leaned in. ¡°So, this is my phone. Where I¡¯m from, we used it for communication and what we called the internet. Now, though, I¡¯m not sure what the hell it is, but it¡¯s called GASPAR now.¡± Yillie set Meph down on the floor of the boat and walked over to Bel. He leaned over and looked at the phone. ¡°It¡¯s your assistant. I¡¯ve never seen one up close, but that¡¯s what it is. It''s something that higher tier cultures have, and typically the first thing a Sovereign will get when they inherit their kingdom. They don¡¯t always look like that. As a matter of fact, most of them aren¡¯t handheld at all.¡± Bel looked up at him. ¡°There is a species, a sentient machine culture called Spirare, that typically fills the role. They can fill a lot of roles in a world, but they have found a niche in Extinction Worlds as assistants for the Sovereign, because of their perfect, and instant, recall. The current king has one, though his is different. I¡¯ve never seen it, but his is actually a host machine for another species, the Miasmaris, which is a cloud of sentient poison.¡± Bel turned his head on its side. ¡°Robots and living poison? You know what, why not?¡± Yillie nodded. ¡°There are many species in the universe. As many as there are stars. Most share common traits, and are classified together, the same as us Humanoids.¡± Bel understood, and it made sense, but that didn¡¯t make him feel better about it. ¡°Anyway,¡± Yillie continued, ¡°what you have, your GASPAR, is the same thing, I think.¡± ¡°Ok. I get it, I think. When I try to do certain things with it, it tells me that function will be restored when I take the throne.¡± ¡°Exactly what I thought, then. And that means if you don¡¯t have access to it, neither does the King. Granted, he had access before, but now he¡¯s flying blind, so to speak, and he¡¯ll definitely know you are near.¡± Bel sighed. ¡°So, no chance of sneaking up on him while he¡¯s asleep and killing him in his own bed?¡± ¡°That seems unlikely.¡± Theori spoke up. ¡°That wasn¡¯t actually your plan, was it?¡± Bel smirked and looked at him. ¡°It¡¯s adorable that you think I even have that much of a plan.¡± Julo chimed in next. ¡°Alright, so what do you have access to, then? We can start there, and if there is anything we can fill in, we will.¡± Bel held up the screen for them, showing them the few icons it held. ¡°Start Here, which is just the intro message I got. Then there is the map, stats, inventory, and encyclopedia. The map shows the entire world, but the only details it gives are areas I¡¯ve been to. Inventory just tells me everything I have. The stats show my tiers and let me set my equipment to a stat, and the encyclopedia lets me read entries for people and places.¡± Julo whistled. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s pretty damned useful.¡± Bel nodded. ¡°Sure, but I don¡¯t know what I can and can¡¯t do with it. It gives me snippets of text for most things that I look up, like stats and even something on Nim Lakakahn, but then sometimes it doesn¡¯t give me anything, like when I tried to look up whatever the hell a ¡®Vulgare¡¯ is. And, actually, do any of you know?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. All three of them shook their heads, but Yillie spoke up. ¡°What is it regarding?¡± ¡°When I look at Meph¡¯s stats, it gives a breakdown of his genetic line. It says he¡¯s Serpent, Bestial, and less than one percent Vulgare.¡± Yillie looked at the page as Bel held up his phone. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of Vulgare before. Probably some kind of beast-like species.¡± Bel shrugged, ¡°I guess. But, anyway, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve got. Any idea on where I should start?¡± The three men looked at each other, and then all started at once, but stopped when Theori spoke over them. ¡°Start with the Sovereignty Games. Learn about the history, and what it takes to compete. They aren¡¯t typical games with rules and events. They are called that because the wealthy view it like a sport, and they wager on the winners. Get to know what you are up against. I know you¡¯ve barely had time to take this all in, but things will not slow down once we hit Tolport, and you¡¯re going to have to think fast and act faster. Also, look at the Guilds. Every kingdom is aligned with one, like Mythra for Leigh.¡± Bel held up a hand. ¡°Actually, on that subject, we need to talk. It¡¯s about Mythra.¡± The three men looked at him silently. ¡°They are the ones that destroyed my planet. From what I¡¯ve gathered, they were strip mining it for Aether, and went too hard, too fast. So, yeah, I¡¯ve got a history with them. They can go fuck themselves.¡± Julo let out a sharp breath through his nose. Bel continued, ¡°I know that you all are employed by them, or were, or whatever, but if we are going to go through this together, I¡¯d really like to not be associated with them, and if I ever get the chance, I¡¯ll jump at the opportunity to fuck up their bottom line.¡± Julo smiled. ¡°Most people don¡¯t like the Guilds, but they are the necessary evil that rules the galaxy. If you want to tell Mythra to fuck off, I¡¯m with you, but it won¡¯t be easy. Even if you side with another Guild instead, it¡¯s not like they will be any different. Maybe they didn¡¯t destroy your world, but they definitely did it to someone else''s. There are no clean hands. But, like I said, I¡¯m with you. Just make sure you understand what it means.¡± Bel nodded and looked at Theori and Yillie. Both of them nodded as well. He turned back down to his phone. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m gonna start going through this shit. Is there anything else I should keep an eye out for?¡± Yillie spoke up again, ¡°Nothing to look up, but you should think of a new name. You can¡¯t go around calling yourself the name of the king.¡± Bel sighed and let his head fall back against the headrest of his seat. ¡°Fuck. Right. Ok, I¡¯ll think of something.¡± He looked back down at his phone and felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Meph slid silently from Yillie¡¯s lap and slithered to Bel, then crawled up onto him while he tapped the Wiki app.
The next several hours passed without event as Bel worked through a seemingly endless supply of Wiki pages. Starting with the Sovereignty Games long history, the First Victors, and the more modern takes on the ancient game. The more he read, the more he got the feeling it was all curated. Not so much that it was curated for him specifically, but more that it had been censored to give a very positive spin on an overwhelmingly brutal story. He¡¯d been reading through a detailed entry for Aether production and concentrations when Theori called from the back of the boat. Bel turned and looked back to the small deck the large, iron clad man stood on. ¡°We¡¯ve got company.¡± Bel jerked his head back to the front of the boat and squinted towards the horizon. Sure enough, there was a ship headed their way, and not a small one like they were on. Something meant for real seafaring. Yillie and Julo dashed to the front of the boat as Bel stood from his chair, bringing Meph up around his neck. He stood behind them and looked over the shorter shoulders of Yillie. ¡°Shit,¡± the old man muttered. ¡°You recognize it?¡± Bel asked. Julo was the one to answer. ¡°Don¡¯t need to. King¡¯s colors on the mast. It ain¡¯t no fishing vessel.¡± Bel squinted again and saw them. Gold and deep blue flapping in the cool ocean wind. Yillie turned, and Bel noticed something different in his eyes, something he hadn¡¯t even seen when they¡¯d been fighting the King¡¯s men. It was a deep fear. ¡°Have you thought of a new name?¡± Bel was still looking at the ship and didn¡¯t answer immediately, being too busy trying to gauge the distance between them. Yillie grabbed his shoulders and shook him. ¡°Belmont! Your name!¡± Yillie¡¯s eyes were hard, but trembled at the corners, mirroring the sides of his mouth. ¡°Uh, yeah. I¡¯ve got one.¡± ¡°Good. What is it?¡± Bel shook his head and blinked a few times. ¡°Faust. Call me Faust.¡± It was only for a moment, but Yillie¡¯s eyes softened. ¡°Ok, so, what do we do now?¡± Bel looked over his shoulder at the water that rushed by the edge of the boat. Theori walked over and spoke up. ¡°If you are thinking of jumping in, don¡¯t. You can¡¯t swim with all that gear on. Maybe for a while, but not all the way to shore, and even if you managed to tread water, they¡¯d just scoop you up.¡± Bel let out a frustrated, ¡°Fuck!¡± Julo shook his head. ¡°We knew this was coming. We hadn¡¯t talked about it yet, but there was no way we were gonna make it into Tolport without someone fucking with us. Seven got out ahead of us, and there was nothing to do about it.¡± ¡°So, what then?¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t going to get lucky twice. Those grunts we fought on the island were guild made¡ªjust barely trained enough to hold each other¡¯s cocks while they piss. The men on this boat will be different. They aren¡¯t going to take chances.¡± ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t fucking help. What are we supposed to do, then?¡± Theori said it all in one word. ¡°Nothing.¡± Bel looked sideways at him. ¡°Nothing?¡± ¡°There isn¡¯t anything we can do. We¡¯ve been outplayed¡ªnot that we had many moves to start with. We have to do this on their terms. They¡¯ll probably take us into port and ship us to Tothers in the morning. We¡¯ll just sit tight and wait for a chance to make our move. There is a lot of island between Tolport and Tothers. We¡¯ll find a way out of it, but fighting here on the boat will just end up with us injured, or worse.¡± Belmont loosened the grip on his dagger without realizing he¡¯d even had his hand on it. ¡°Goddamnit. Fine.¡± There was a pause for a moment. ¡°Wait. Shit. What about Meph? I can change my name all I want, but how many people are walking around with fucking snakes?¡± Theori chuckled. ¡°There was nothing that could be done about it. This was all a matter of time. I¡¯d hoped they¡¯d wait till we got to shore, but¡ª" Bel cut him off. ¡°Wait, how long have you all known this? The entire time?¡± Julo nodded. ¡°We talked about it last night after you went to sleep.¡± Bel¡¯s eyes widened, and he threw his arms wide. ¡°And what, you weren¡¯t going to tell me? Seems like a pretty big fucking deal.¡± ¡°The world doesn¡¯t revolve around you, Bel!¡± Julo pushed a hard finger into Bel¡¯s chest. ¡°We all have our own lives to think about, and while I wish we could bring everything to your attention, we can¡¯t. You want to know why? Because we barely fucking know you. We have no idea how you are going to react.¡± He pointed down to Bel¡¯s hand, still resting on the dagger pommel. ¡°Even now, you are ready to fight. Admirable. Fucking suicidal, but admirable. Well, we aren¡¯t so suicidal. Sometimes the way out isn¡¯t through. Sometimes you gotta take your lumps.¡± Theori reached over and put a hand on Bel¡¯s arm, but Bel shrugged him off. ¡°No, I got it. It¡¯s fine.¡± He turned and walked towards the back of the boat. ¡°I¡¯ll do it like you want.¡± Yillie kept a calm tone. ¡°They do not know who you are yet. All they have is what Seven told them. Don¡¯t tell them anything, and¡ª" The boat lurched underneath Bel and he stumbled forward before turning. The approaching ship was only a few hundred yards away now, and Bel figured they¡¯d had some way to slow their smaller boat. He closed his eyes and ran a hand across Meph¡¯s scales. The snake was tense, and Bel let his mind ease around the emotions that flooded him, bringing him back into his bond with his familiar. The larger ship came across the starboard side and stopped. It was wooden, with three masts, like an older sailing ship, with no hint of modern technology. The thought of it played in Bel¡¯s mind for a moment, but he let it slip away as a man climbed down a rope ladder, followed by four more. They were wearing heavier armor, not as heavy as Theori¡¯s, but more than leather and a breastplate. Each of them bore a sword scabbard and pauldron decorated in the king¡¯s deep blue and gold. At first, Bel wouldn¡¯t have thought much of their appearance, but something struck him as odd. Each of the men had blond hair. Bright blond. Dyed blond. Their skin was crisp pale white and their eyes a brilliant electric blue. They looked like what people that have never been to Scandinavia imagined all Scandinavian people to look like. No, not Scandenavian, Bel corrected himself. They looked like goddamned Aryans. The last one down the ladder spoke up with a voice that sounded like he¡¯d done everything he could to suppress an accent, but couldn¡¯t quite get there. ¡°In the name of King Graham, this vessel is commandeered. State your names for the imperial records.¡± Imperial records? ¡°Yillie Horun.¡± The man¡¯s voice was as calm as ever, and he took a step forward. ¡°Julo Thulo.¡± Julo took a step next to Yillie. ¡°Theori Jasp Kilonnarin.¡± When Theori stepped up, Bel noticed the man put some weight into each move, causing the boat to rock slightly under his feet. Bel swallowed hard. ¡°Johann Faust.¡± He took a step up next to Theori. The man looked between all of them, and then to the other men beside him. ¡°Take those three. Leave the one with the snake.¡± Bel felt Meph tighten on his shoulders, and saw Theori move slightly, but then withdraw. The four men walked over brandishing iron manacles. Bel could smell the Aether coming from the cold metal. Each of the others freely offered their arms outward and were in turn shackled. With only one arm, Julo was shackled around his remaining wrist, and the other expanded magically to fit around his neck, where it was clamped shut. Bel shuddered at the mechanical clang. Within moments, they were led back up the rope by the three men, leaving Bel with the two remaining. The one that had spoken before walked up, calmly¡ªarrogantly. ¡°Johann Faust, you say.¡± Bel swallowed, but made no reply. ¡°I do not know what your crime is, only that I am to bring you in alive.¡± The man¡¯s golden hair hung loosely over his shoulders. He leaned in, letting it sway towards Bel¡¯s face. ¡°That is so boring, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bel didn¡¯t make a sound. ¡°The other three, two are guild men, and the third is a slave to the king. I cannot touch them.¡± He leaned back and smiled. ¡°Bor,¡± he turned to the man behind him. ¡°You saw this one attack me, didn¡¯t you?¡± The man nodded and put his hand on his sword. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Bel¡¯s mind raced, but he didn¡¯t react quick enough. The gauntleted hand of the king¡¯s man rammed into his guts, and Bel doubled over. He wouldn¡¯t ever know if the man had thought the ten-foot python around his neck was just for show, or what, but the blond dickhead certainly hadn¡¯t expected the next few moments to go as they did. Meph was off of Bel¡¯s shoulders before his knees hit the ground. The snake coiled up and around the man¡¯s unprotected neck in an instant. Bel saw his boots step backwards a pace, but then reposition as he fought. It was all over, though. He came down on his side, dropping like a sack of wet cow shit onto the deck, Meph still coiled around his broken neck. The man¡¯s lips turning blue as the heat drained from his pale skin. Bel looked up in time to see the other man make a move, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough. Bel pushed off the ground with every bit of strength he had, and barreled into the man only three steps away. The force wasn¡¯t measured, though, and Bel put too much into it. The king¡¯s man stumbled backwards in the tackle, and his legs hit the side of the boat. He grabbed onto Bel as he went over the edge. The cold water rushed up around him in a foam of white bubbles and rays of sunlight through the blue, and he went under, held fast by the armored man. He struggled to free himself, but between the weight of his own gear and the man who¡¯d wrapped himself around, he was sinking faster than he could escape. He saw Meph next to him in the water, striking at the man as well, but having no effect. Bel pushed and pulled, twisted and yanked, but nothing would ease the grip of the struggling armored anchor that wound around him. Finally, he grabbed the dagger from his belt. He thrust it up and into the man¡¯s neck, flooding the cold water with warm red blood. The man let out a gurgled moan, and Bel felt the grip on him loosen. He watched the man slowly descend into the deep blue below, sending up a long stream of ever-diluting blood like a red scarf in the wind. He turned and looked back to the surface. Rays of sun broke through a distant ceiling of tessellated waves. It was too distant. He flailed his arms to push himself upwards, but he made no progress. Then, he tried to push Meph away¡ªpush him back to the surface¡ªbut the snake only moved along in the water beside him. He tried again to swim upwards, but even with all of his effort, it was in vain. The rays of the sun slowly faded, and he knew there was nothing that could be done, and so he resigned himself to the deep current.