《Primus: Master of the New World Order》 Chapter 1 The first sign for the San Francisco bay community that something was wrong was the birds. A family on the outskirts of the ruined coastal city had converted an abandoned warehouse into a haven for blackbirds, pigeons, seagulls, the like. The birds received shelter and food from the warehouse¡¯s human occupants, letting them survive in impressive numbers throughout the bay. So when an entire city¡¯s worth of birds took off east almost in unison, it set the people living there on edge. Half an hour later, a small fleet of tugboats and fishing trawlers passed under the massive red bridge that formed the boundary between the bay and the Pacific ocean. This was what really spooked the inhabitants of the ruined city. Most of them hadn¡¯t seen this many ships in the bay since before the Nabbing. The boats close to the front of the fleet¡¯s vaguely triangular formation began to sound their foghorns as they turned south and approached the city¡¯s docks. Not a single person in the echoey labyrinth of San Francisco¡¯s desolate streets didn¡¯t understand the message. Hundreds of people flocked to the docks at the far north of the city, watching a single motorboat detach from the rest of the ships and approach land. Aside from the single person manning the engine, the only person aboard was a cloaked, masked figure standing on the prow. Torch silently stared at the crowd of puzzled people awaiting them on the concrete piers. They shrugged with one shoulder from within the folds of their cloak, making sure their longsword was properly slung over their back. This was their debut in the mainland New World, they had to make sure everything worked. Thankfully, they had checked extensively beforehand. ¡°Greetings, citizens of San Francisco. I, along with the rest of this fleet, represent the Servants of Reckoning. I have traveled thousands of kilometers to stand before you all today. We are here to free North and South America from the terror of Primoi, demons and other various supernatural terrors.¡± The confusion on the people¡¯s face began to shift to annoyance. Many turned and left. Torch did not acknowledge the deserters. ¡°While such claims may have seemed unintelligible in simpler times, we no longer live in those times. Millions of disparate and lost humans have been united from Europe to Japan in our quest to bring humanity back to its former glory and unite you all with your taken loved ones. This is our duty, and it is one that I am asking you to join us in. Some of you may have at least heard of a Primus recently, yes?¡± One of the people on the dock nudged the person next to him. ¡°Yeah, I think I heard a trader from Sacramento mention hearing a story about one of those a few weeks ago. He just chalked it up to another whackjob with a big mouth. But, uh, if these people are talking about the same thing¡­¡± Torch glanced back at the bridge. Tiny, indistinct shapes moved across it, almost imperceptibly. They looked back at the remaining people. ¡°A strange thing for you to claim, that your city is unfamiliar with Primoi. After all, our scouting cadres have managed to inform us of an interesting find of theirs.¡± They raised their voice slightly. ¡°Bring it out.¡± Two strangers pushed through the crowd, both armed with hunting shotguns. One of them cleared a path to the docks¡¯ edge, while the other shepherded a massive, red-eyed person whose arms were bound with glowing blue rope and whose mouth was sealed with duct tape. ¡°A Primus,¡± said Torch, ¡°harbored in your city and hid from us. No doubt, you were ordered to do so.¡± The second stranger shoved the colossal captive to the ground in front of Torch, in plain view of the entire crowd. An old man stepped forward and glared at Torch. ¡°Look here, kid. Y¨C¡± ¡°Torch.¡± ¡°Whatever. I don¡¯t know what you and your friends are getting up to, but we aren¡¯t fooled.¡± He waved at the bound Primus. ¡°We¡¯ve never seen this guy in our lives, we would¡¯ve remembered someone like that! You come into our city acting like the second coming, and you¡¯re telling us that we¡¯ve got some glowy-eyed freak calling the shots?¡± Another citizen joined the old man. ¡°Yeah! This is our town now, and your boats had better clear out before we prove it to you! We don¡¯t want any part of what you¡¯re trying to bring here!¡± Several other voices chimed in, angrily shouting their approval. ¡°Many of you were no doubt unaware of who was behind all of your problems,¡± said Torch. ¡°If you wish to surrender and join our cause, you may do so and you will promptly be protected from harm while the Servants are here to protect you.¡± They looked back at the Servant manning the engine and nodded. While the Servant fished a walkie-talkie out of their pocket and mumbled into it, Torch turned towards the other people. ¡°There will be no quarter for those who choose not to.¡± A barrage of distant cracks echoed across the bay, followed by three dozen specks flying away from the bridge, through the sky and towards the city. As the low whistle of the mortar shells increased steadily in volume, they were abruptly drowned out by the screams of the townspeople. While the people in front of them scattered and ran away from the docks, Torch casually unslung their sword. ¡°Bring the rest in.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! The artillery barrage slammed into the city, sending several skyscrapers collapsing to the ground. One shell landed close to the docks and ended up scattering half a dozen people all over in a cloud of dust and rubble. The armor under Torch¡¯s cloak pulsed a dim blue and they leapt across the water and onto the dock. It would take a few minutes for the crews of the other ships to disembark, Torch could always start early. They caught up to the fleeing crowd in a heartbeat, slicing through people in a blur of gray and blue. While they massacred the people in front of them, they continued to speak in a calm, flat tone. ¡°Fleeing will be taken as an admission of unrepentant guilt. There is an easy way out of this. The only use for a traitor to humankind is that of an example.¡± Several of the boats began to dock, allowing dozens of armed and armored Servants to stream out into the city. Convoys of tanks, trucks and ATVs spread out with spartan efficiency in their quest to cover the city. In total, it took six minutes for the hundreds of remaining people to be completely surrounded. Dozens of them began to file out of their hiding holes and barricades, hesitantly moving into the ranks of the Servants. Most, however, held their ground. An industrial cargo ship pulled into the only dock big enough to fit it, crushing the yacht that had originally been moored there against the concrete. Torch gave a whistle, and nine shipping containers were opened in unison. The Servants were not advancing in a hurry, and the surviving townspeople still had several city blocks available to them. Most of them tried to hide in abandoned buildings, hoping the invaders would just pass them by. What few of them possessed firearms were attempting to fire on the Servants from their vantage points. This plan was ruined the moment the Chosen were set loose. Malformed abominations charged, flew and slithered through the streets, tearing through any pockets of people they could find. And given that the things could detect their prey from miles away, they were very good at the task that had been bestowed upon them. Anyone that was quick enough to leave their hiding place before the Chosen were able to dig through were almost immediately gunned down by awaiting Servants. Torch strolled through the carnage, ignoring the sounds of screaming and smashing concrete all around them. They noticed a twenty-something civilian fleeing from a hardware store down the street, empty pistol tossed to the side. Before the other Servants could open fire, they flung their glyph-covered sword directly into the unaware person¡¯s back. Torch strode over to where the person was thrashing in the road, their footsteps, if there were any under there cloak, completely silent. They looked down at the twisting mass of meat and bones, then neatly extracted their sword from the mess. The hole left behind closed in seconds, barely a spot of blood visible. After maybe thirty seconds, the newly-formed Chosen got to its scaled feet and stared up at Torch with fifteen bulbous eyes. Not a scrap of intelligence was visible within any of them. Torch whistled, and the Chosen scampered back into the hardware store. A few moments later, it returned with a small trophy tangled up in the tentacles dripping from its mouth. Torch took the trophy and inspected the base. ¡®L. PARKER, UNDER-13 MINIGOLF STATE CHAMPION, 2015.¡¯ ¡°Acceptable.¡± Torch whistled, and the new Chosen plodded over to the others of its kind waiting at the end of the street. Meanwhile, Torch turned to the nearby blockade of Servants standing to attention. ¡°Relay my orders to your compatriots: This is not the same as Hawaii. Spread out, find nearby settlements. Let them know that we have come to save them. Promise to make sure that this will never happen again, and the locals will be considerably more amenable to joining our ranks.¡± The Servants saluted and left to pass on the commands. Torch cleaned their sword on their cloak and turned back towards the dock. The other Servants could bring them suitable Chosen candidates, they would be better off setting up a base of operations. The real campaigns would begin soon, after all. The Servants who had presented the captive Primus approached Torch. One of them looked visibly uncomfortable, while the other stoically spoke to Torch. ¡°What do we do with the captive now?¡± Torch pointed to an island in the bay. ¡°There. Same for the Chosen.¡± - Waia burst through her cocoon of linen sheets and emerged into the blazing husk of what had once been her home village. Hundreds of masked figures were perched on cliffs surrounding the village, all cackling like hyenas. Through a cloud of flies, Waia spotted a hooded figure standing over Ivy¡¯s corpse. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. The figure turned to face her, their expansive cloak sweeping across the ground and stirring up yet more flies. Waia took one step forward before pitching forward into the fabric-covered ground. Bandage-like rolls of linen wrapped around her arms, pinning her to the ground. Waia looked up in terror as the figure approached, countless insects eating away at their cloak and exposed skin. Instead of a smooth mask, their face was a bleached, shadowy skull. A centipede crawled out of one of the empty eye sockets. Waia watched as the figure was consumed by the cloud of insects surrounding it, before falling apart into a flock of vultures that flew into nothingness. The material holding her down finally released, letting her crane her neck up at the sky. A hole had formed directly above her, piercing straight through miles of clouds and revealing what lay beyond. A gargantuan disembodied reptilian eye, glowing sky-blue with the intensity of the sun, glared down at her. Waia felt the entire world around her dissolve into blue flame. Waia jolted awake. Her raft had passed over a larger wave, and her head had knocked against the bottom. She sat up, looked out at the endless expanse of blackened ocean, and sighed. The Pacific currents were the only thing moving her raft along, and it had been days since the last she had seen of Hawaii. Somewhere between two days and a week of traveling across the ocean, and it felt like she was floating in place. She had no idea what time it was. Her phone had run out of battery days ago from the constant checking of the time, and she couldn¡¯t exactly use the sun. All she could do at this point was wait for landfall. Waia leaned back on her raft. The entire Hawaiian archipelago had been emptied. She¡¯d checked. At this point, she only had one idea about anywhere she could go, anywhere that could help her. Just south of the big dot¡­ She looked up at the dark, cloudy sky. It was going to be a long trip. Chapter 2 746 YEARS LATER ¡°Hm¨C Ow!¡± Mark covered his face, anticipating another slap. Horan, meanwhile, pulled his hand back. ¡°C¡¯mon, up you come. Omet sent me to wake up the people who haven¡¯t come down for breakfast yet.¡± Mark slowly opened his eyes. ¡°...People? Plural?¡± ¡°Yup. You, Quet, a few Greeks.¡± Horan flicked his hand and Mark¡¯s blanket flew off of the twin-size bed. ¡°So I¡¯ve got a few more people who need the same treatment.¡± He hovered back to the doorway of Mark¡¯s sparse bedroom. ¡°Honor system, dude.¡± While his friend went down the corridor, Mark wondered how they were supposed to have breakfast sans Quet. Nevertheless, he slid out of bed and grabbed a set of clothes from their pile on top of the dresser. The same set he had been wearing for what was now years, the hoodie and thoroughly ripped T-shirt were the sole clothes in the entire pyramid that both fit and looked good on him, a high bar that Horan had set for him. He traipsed dow n the spiral staircase in the middle of the pyramid¡¯s foyer, waving lazily at the Primoi assembled in the general vicinity of the dining room table. He nodded at the Primoi around him as he pulled out a seat on one edge of the table. ¡°Yup, I¡¯m not seeing Quet. Seems like we missed a step here.¡± One of the Aztecs sitting across from Mark shrugged. ¡°Not like this is some big surprise.¡± She groaned. ¡°I know this is a bad look, since you aren¡¯t really familiar with Quet¡¯s normal rhythm, but I swear she usually gets up earlier. She needs to stop binge-carving glyphs, it¡¯s not like we¡¯re on a deadline.¡± ¡°Eh,¡± mumbled Mark, absent-mindedly staring down at the wood grain on the table. ¡°Can¡¯t really speak for her, but she seems the type to get stressed when she¡¯s got a giant hole in her, uh, collection.¡± The Aztec rubbed her chin and nodded. ¡°Occam¡¯s razor, I suppose. You¡¯ve learned her habits well.¡± ¡°Plenty of exposure.¡± The Aztec on Mark¡¯s left cackled. ¡°Yeah, she totally gave you the talk when you were in the Down Below, didn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ever phrase it like that again.¡± - Omet scurried into Hurat¡¯s room and closed the door behind them. They looked around at the pristine bedroom and sighed. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late. A lot of us slept in, last night¡¯s board game session lasted way longer than anyone planned.¡± They split in two and began to comb the room. The yellow-eyed version continued the one-sided conversation. ¡°Turns out, we had a whole stash of old editions in the basement. Testing every single one out against the newest versions was not a good idea.¡± The purple-eyed Omet shrugged as they opened up a glass case full of Hurat¡¯s old mini-figurines. ¡°That¡¯s kind of simplifying, isn¡¯t it? It was a bad idea timewise, sure, but it was still fun.¡± ¡°Spending an hour rooting around the whole house just to have enough game pieces to play isn¡¯t really my definition of fun.¡± The second Omet carefully placed half a dozen resin figurines back into the case. ¡°Point made. Sorry, Hurat, by the way. Had to bust into your stash. I made sure not to lose any¡­ By which I mean I duplicated the whole set and ended up losing half of the ones we used.¡± The first Omet nodded in assent while they flipped through a manual and made sure Hurat¡¯s guitar was tuned properly. ¡°Turns out, there¡¯s a reason why you put some time between dinner and family events. Most of the old games we played are covered in stains. I¡¯m sure we could wash it off, but water plus painted cardboard isn¡¯t a world-renowned combination. We ended up just throwing away most of the boards.¡± ¡°Which is a shame, it turns out a lot of the old game designers knew what they were doing a lot better than the ones who made the latest iterations. Maybe we can recreate the better versions from memory.¡± The first Omet shot their doppelg?nger an unimpressed glance. ¡°A statement like that implies that anyone here could or would ever actually get around to doing something like that.¡± The second Omet shut the case and extended their hand towards their counterpart. ¡°Worth throwing the idea out there, at least. No harm done.¡± ¡°Yeah, like I wouldn¡¯t say the same thing.¡± The first Omet hung the guitar back up on the wall and shook hands with the other Omet, fusing the two back into a single Primus. Omet took one last look around Hurat¡¯s room before making a tally mark on a dry-erase board next to the door. ¡°Apparently, managing a Domain and a half without messing up is a pretty tough job. Guess there was more going on with you under the hood, huh?¡± They slowly closed the door. ¡°Okay, Horan probably woke up everyone else, I should head downstairs. See you tomorrow morning.¡± - Horan found Quet lying face-down on a wooden desk scored with burn marks in her room, her folded arms being used as a makeshift pillow. Several carved stones lay strewn about on the unoccupied surface of the desk, and a book lay open and propped up against the wall. There also seemed to be a copious number of miscellaneous crumbs strewn across the burnt spruce. Other than that, the room was shockingly clean, given what Quet did in it. The lower half featured smooth, clean walls, with the furniture keeping a respectful distance. In the corner, a spiral staircase led up ten feet to an obviously DIY wooden platform that almost completely blocked a ground-level view of the ceiling. That high up, the walls were indeed covered with colorful posters and framed photographs, more in line with what one would expect of Quet¡¯s sleeping spot. Horan was surprised by how long it took him to notice the laptop on the side of the desk playing some kind of radio broadcast. It appeared to be three men discussing the viability of microwaving grapes, but the audio was sped up just barely too fast to be easily followed. Horan attempted to stop the broadcast, only to recall that he had no idea how these portable computers functioned. And where in the world would the radio broadcast even be coming from? He ineffectually pressed several buttons on the keyboard that he thought would do the trick, then opted to just shut the laptop. The disembodied voices stopped a moment later. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The laptop seemed to have been left running overnight, leading Horan to question the battery power of the laptop. Then again, he had only been dimly aware that portable computers were even a thing, let alone being familiar with their typical longevity. He turned back to the unconscious Quet and sighed. ¡°Okay, this is just depressing.¡± He leaned over Quet and flicked his hand, creating a gust of wind that brushed past her ear. ¡°Wha¨C?!¡± Quet bolted upright, and the force of her weight hitting the back of her set made the chair begin to topple backwards. Horan held his hand palm-up and created a cushion of air under the nigh-horizontal chair, stopping it from hitting the ground. Quet pulled herself upright and looked up at Horan. ¡°Good evening.¡± Horan looked over at the clock on the wall. 7:38 AM. ¡°Maybe you should get a clock for your desk.¡± Quet followed Horan¡¯s one-eyed gaze to the time, then wheezed in shock and clambered off of her chair. ¡°Wha¨C did I fall asleep at my workbench? How?!¡± She tasted her mouth. ¡°Ugh, I didn¡¯t even brush my teeth?¡± Horan followed Quet out of her room. ¡°I keep saying, this is what happens if you don¡¯t call it a night. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a time limit for glyphs.¡± Quet wiped crumbs from her shirt and skirt. ¡°Maybe not on a day-to-day basis, no. But I did the math, you know. If I keep doing five stones a day ¨C that¡¯s only three-ish hours out of my day ¨C my full kit will have been replaced by November ninth. It can be like a birthday gift to myself!¡± She groaned and struggled to shake the last remnants off of her shirt. ¡°Now I¡¯ll have to do double-time tonight.¡± Horan waved his hand again and the more tenacious crumbs were blown off of Quet. ¡°Wasn¡¯t, like, half of your collection just food storage?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Quet took the stairs down two at a time, Horan casually floating straight down next to her. ¡°That¡¯s why I intend to do that last. Leftovers from now to November that naturally arise should cut down on workload at that point. You think I didn¡¯t plan this out? You insult me. You wound me.¡± She arrived at the bottom of the stairs and jogged over to the table, hands behind her back so as to not show everyone that her fingers were searching for something to tap. ¡°What¡¯s up, nerds? Sorry for coming down late, that¡¯s on me.¡± One of the other Aztecs waved her off. ¡°Eh, happens. At least food¡¯s coming now.¡± Quet froze mid-stride, waited for a moment, spun on her heel and went back up the stairs. ¡°I¨C I¡¯ll go get the right matrices. Ugh, it always hits all at once¡­¡± Horan watched her pass him by. ¡°You should really just set an alarm, otherwise things like this happen.¡± ¡°Loud noises that close to my head aren¡¯t a good start to the day, okay?¡± A few feet up the steps, Quet turned around and pointed at the door at the back of the kitchen, elsewhere in the foyer. ¡°You guys can go root around in the pantry, if you¡¯re somehow desperate.¡± She continued hurrying up the stairs. ¡°Just put everything back where you found it when you¡¯re done!¡± Mark sighed and got up. He seemed to be the only one at the table to do so. ¡°Well, that¡¯s definitely a start to the morning.¡± He stopped by Horan on his way to the pantry. ¡°By the way, are you doing anything today?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Same amount of nothing as always. Still going through the Aztecs¡¯ full collection of VHS movies.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a pressing thing for you, though, right?¡± ¡°Yup. Why¡¯re you asking?¡± ¡°Just wanted to know what my options are.¡± Mark opened the thick steel door to the pantry and started examining the somewhat sparse shelves. Omet passed Quet by on their way down the stairs. They waved at the Primoi around the table as they took their seat. ¡°Morning, everyone. Got a bit of a late start to the morning, I see.¡± They took their seat between Horan and Saralai around the head of the table. The other Primoi did little to acknowledge Omet¡¯s presence, listlessly awaiting any actual sign of breakfast. Several were talking with those next to them, a few more were eyeing the pantry, from which the sounds of Mark¡¯s rummaging emanated. A few Greeks ended up deciding that the wait wasn¡¯t worth it and got up to leave. Horan read the room. ¡°Hey, uh, you guys think that this is all we¡¯ll be doing for the next few years? At least, um, until our pantry runs out and we have to start thinking about how the resident human doesn¡¯t starve?¡± Omet raised their eyebrows at him. ¡°That¡¯s still a year or two off, isn¡¯t it? Did something happen?.¡± ¡°No, no, just¡­¡± Horan leaned back. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve grown a little used to the nomadic lifestyle out there with Mark or something, but I think I¡¯m starting to get a little antsy by now. I guess I¡¯m more comfortable with daily monotony when the world outside is changing fast enough to be entertaining to watch.¡± Saralai glanced at the empty kitchen. ¡°...Your point being?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°I dunno, really. I¡¯ve just been feeling more on-edge recently. Do you think we can start thinking about heading out there and checking out how the world¡¯s going? I feel like it¡¯s been long enough since Hura...¡± He decided to clamp his mouth shut rather than continue along that subject. Before anyone had the chance to change the subject to something less uncomfortable, an abrupt and loud knocking came from the front door. It sounded like whoever was on the other side had battering rams for hands. The entire room instinctively shifted into their human forms, the table now coming up to their collarbones. Even the sounds of Mark rifling through the pantry stopped. Omet stood up and walked to the door. They turned around and looked at the other Primoi while walking backwards to maintain direction. When the knocking began again, now even louder, Omet struggled to speak over the noise. ¡°Okay, no problem. Worst-case scenario, they¡¯re just looters. Unless push comes to shove, we¡¯re just squatting in some Nabbed millionaire¡¯s holiday estate, is all. No need to w¨C¡± A red-hot, rocky hand punched through the door and turned the interior handle, which made Omet recoil away from the entrance. The door was pulled open a crack and the hand retracted, leaving a jagged hole in the dark wood. While the door was pulled open, Omet heard a familiar voice pipe up. ¡°Hey, um, anyone still in¡­ here¡­?¡± Waia stood in the doorway, staring blankly at Omet. It took Omet a moment to recognize her, and another few to fully take in just how much of a mess she looked like. Still shifted into her human form, her clothes were mud-stained, torn and filthy, her hair was in disarray, and the bags under her eyes would be better described as lumps. Clumps of lava were dripping off of one hand and onto the ground. Omet recoiled slightly. ¡°Wha¨C Waia? What happened t¨C?¡± They were cut off as Waia lunged forward, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in their shoulder. After a long and uncomfortable silence, she pulled her head up slightly and whispered into Omet¡¯s ear. ¡°What day is it?¡± Literally nothing about this morning was going in the direction Omet had expected it to. ¡°Uh¡­ May. Ninth.¡± Waia did some quick math in her head. ¡°I haven¡¯t spoken to another person in¡­ I dunno, I¡¯m too tired for numbers. Just let me in.¡± Omet extricated themself from Waia¡¯s bear hug. ¡°Okay, can you please explain why you¡¯re just showing up? This is kind of a lot! Wha¨C I¨C what happened to you?!¡± While Omet was trying to calm Waia down, Saralai leaned over to Horan. ¡°Is this just an Aztec thing, or are we supposed to know who the human hobo is?¡± Horan shook his head. ¡°Nah, she¡¯s a friend. She¡¯s that Hawaiian we told you about, the one that helped us with that business with the Norse.¡± The Greek next to Saralai choked on his glass of water. ¡°When did you meet a Hawaiian?!¡± Horan sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not telling the whole story again for each one of you, you¡¯ll have to trust me.¡± Meanwhile, Omet was getting nowhere with Waia. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s just slow things down, start from the beginning. We¡¯re having breakfast, and you can tell us why you¡¯re here and all that at the table.¡± Quet hurried back down the stairs, stuffing stones into her pocket. ¡°Okay, sorry about that, again, but I¡¯ve finally got¨C¡± She noticed Waia standing next to Omet, then gestured fruitlessly at her sibling. ¡°I was gone for three minutes.¡± Chapter 3 Waia sat in front of a plate of scrambled eggs at the far side of the table, blankly staring at the yellowish mass with her head in her hands. The entire table¡¯s worth of people stared at her, waiting for her to say something. One Aztec cleared his throat. Waia looked up. ¡°What? I, oh, um, yeah. So, uh, has anything I should know about happened on your end?¡± Omet glanced around at the rest of the table, most of whom tried to avert their gaze. On the far side of the table, Mark tried to mention something, but before he could, Omet looked back to Waia, who had taken Horan¡¯s seat next to them. ¡°Nothing really, but I think we can skip our side of the introductions. I feel like you¡¯ve got plenty to talk about on your end.¡± ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± Waia pushed the eggs away from her. ¡°For starters, Hawaii¡¯s gone.¡± Several exclamations of surprise came from the Aztecs, while the Greeks suddenly became very interested in their food. Waia¡¯s face hardened and she wiped at one eye with her thumb. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s¡­ A couple weeks after you guys went back to this place¡­¡± She waved at where Mark, Omet and Horan were sitting. ¡°A bunch of¡­ I dunno, cultists? A bunch of people with, like, military-grade equipment and trucks and everything rolled up. And this is just for me, they¡¯d already been taking out the rest of my Domain and their towns, across every island. I looked all over the state and, yeah, those freaks killed or evacuated the whole thing. I didn¡¯t know where else to go but here, so I just built a raft and let the currents take me out east.¡± While Waia was speaking, Horan, who was floating above the table in lieu of a seat, noticed Mark gripping the tablecloth tighter and tighter with every extra sentence, out of sight of the others at the table. ¡°Hey, uh, Mark? You okay?¡± Mark looked down and released his grip. ¡°Oh, right, no. I mean yes. Nothing to¡­ Actually, hang on.¡± He leaned forward and raised his hand. ¡°Hey, Waia? Hi, did the cultists call themselves servants? Also, did they say it in a way that makes it really clear you¡¯re supposed to capitalize the S?¡± Waia¡¯s eyes widened. She leaned forward and planted her hands on the table. ¡°Mark, what do you know about them? Tell me everything.¡± Horan looked between the two. ¡°Wait, how do you¡­¡± He recognized the name and leaned back, covering his face with his hands. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re kidding me¡­¡± Mark looked up at Horan and acknowledged his friend¡¯s sentiment with a small nod. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the Servants around before, in the same way you¡¯re describing them. In the middle east. I don¡¯t even¡­ They don¡¯t seem like the type to get that big, but if you saw them all the way out in the Pacific, I guess they¡¯ve ended up turning into a much bigger problem than I expected.¡± Waia nodded, her jaw clenching. ¡°Yeah, I heard their ¡®leader¡¯ mention coming all the way from England or something. Here¡¯s the thing, though: They were coming after us. Primoi. They somehow knew about my Domain, called me out by name, and they tried to turn the humans against us. When the ones in my village said no¡­¡± Her head lowered, hiding her face from the others. She remained quiet for a while, but her shaking was clearly visible to everyone. After a moment, she sniffed and looked back up. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. ¡°Remember what we saw happen to Orsinus?¡± Several Greeks snapped to attention. The one closest to Waia leaned towards her. ¡°What? Orsinus?! Did you see him or something?!¡± Horan¡¯s entire body seemed to visibly contract within itself as he sheepishly lowered himself into clear view. ¡°Actually, I¨CI¡­ Jus¡­ One thing you should¡­¡± Another Greek connected the dots and looked at Horan. ¡°And you didn¡¯t feel like bringing it up to any of us that you had seen, alive, the father of something like two thirds of us?¡± Quet tried to alleviate the tension. ¡°Well, see, the thing about tha¨C¡± ¡°Shut up, Quet.¡± Saralai pointed straight up at Horan, the tip of her finger lighting up like a firefly. ¡°You had better start explaining right now what happened to him. If it¡¯s not too bad, we might not blast all four of you to bits. we might.¡± Omet pushed Saralai¡¯s hand away from Horan. ¡°Saralai, calm do¨C¡± ¡°And why should I do that?!¡± Saralai¡¯s head whipped over to face Omet. ¡°I feel like we all have a right to be upset if you go three months without telling us that you saw our assumed-dead patriarch out and about! I said it before, Omet. Start talking.¡± Several of the nearby Greeks openly voiced their agreement with their de facto new leader Horan saw Mark attempting to pull the drawstrings on his hoodie shut, and reached down to stop the motion. ¡°You¡¯re going down with the rest of us, dude.¡± Omet folded their arms on the table and took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. You know those supernatural-style slasher movies where the one extra with barely any prior lines turns int¨C?¡± Most of the Greeks erupted with various frustrated threats towards Omet. Omet winced slightly. ¡°Okay, fine. Me, Quet, Mark, Waia, we did all see Orsinus during our trip to the Down Below. But he wasn¡¯t, uh¡­ He wasn¡¯t all there. Remember Yang? The one demon who led that last attack on your home? He was with her.¡± Saralai narrowed her eyes. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know that you couldn¡¯t lie, I would already be assuming that you¡¯re making this up on the spot. For one, I figured that Yang was dead too. Wait, do demons go to the Down Below? They shouldn¡¯t be able to, right?¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°We still have no idea how any of that happened. But yeah, Orsinus was¡­ Something happened to him. He was like a dog on a leash. He never spoke, he only did anything when Yang commanded him to. And then, when we tried to bring him down to stop Yang, he¡­¡± They looked up at Waia. ¡°...What happened with the Servants?¡± Waia chewed her lip. ¡°I don¡¯t know what their leader does to them, to Orsinus and Iv¨C and a few of the villagers, but it was the same with them. Dunno how they all got turned into those¡­ things, but it was the same person doing it. They all had that same blue glow and everything.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Blue¡­¡± Quet got Waia¡¯s attention. ¡°Was their leader a Primus? Blue isn¡¯t that common of an eye-power-thing color, maybe we can narrow the suspects down. Can¡¯t be that many left out there.¡± Waia shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I dunno, but it wasn¡¯t a Primus. They sure didn¡¯t bleed like one.¡± Horan furrowed his brow. ¡°So, what? Power of a Primus, body of a human? Don¡¯t tell me we¡¯re getting into hybrids now.¡± ¡°Would now be a bad time,¡± mumbled Mark from across the table, ¡°for me to mention that I¡¯ve been seeing towns around here depopulating the same way they do when the Servants are in the area?¡± All heads turned to face Mark, only to immediately move back to Waia as she bolted to her feet. ¡°Where?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Like I said, around. I like to get out of the house sometimes, visit local towns. A bunch of places started thinning out a few days ago, and the people left told me a bunch of people who sound like Servants rolled through. I was gonna go check it out with Horan later today, but I assume you¡¯ll want to come too?¡± Saralai sighed. ¡°And you just felt like keeping this to yourself as well?¡± ¡°Wh¨C I didn¡¯t know it was the Servants,¡± protested Mark. ¡°I just wanted to check it out, it didn¡¯t need to be a big deal right out the ga¨C wh¨C what are you doing?¡± Waia pulled Mark out of his chair and got him to his feet. ¡°Mark. Give me a map and point out what places still have people living there. I can and will do the rest. If the one who burnt down my home isn¡¯t close, someone who knows where they are is.¡± ¡°Okay, hang on.¡± Omet got to their feet. ¡°Just¡­ Slow down, alright? You¡¯re not gonna show up to our place after spending months rafting across half of the Pacific, then just leave half an hour later.¡± They pointed at Mark. ¡°We can help you with this. We¡¯ve got these cultists a few hours away, and it sounds like we¡¯ve got targets on all our backs. This is our problem too, but we can¡¯t just head off and start fighting them. Fifty-six people aren¡¯t going to last against a world-spanning cult.¡± Waia folded her arms. ¡°Maybe you can¡¯t, but I¡¯d say I¡¯ll manage.¡± She closed her eyes and took a breath. ¡°But I¡¯ll humor you. What, pray tell, can you and your roommates bring to the table? What¡¯s your grand plan to stop the Servants? Huh?¡± ¡°I¨C I¡­¡± Omet shrank back slightly. Horan floated between Omet and Waia. ¡°Hey, lay off. This is a lot, just give us a minute.¡± Another Aztec got up from her seat. ¡°Yeah, leave ¡®em alone!¡± ¡°You¡¯re not just gonna talk to the one in charge like that and get away with it,¡± said yet another. Waia looked around the room, which suddenly felt a lot less welcoming. ¡°Okay, fine. But we¡¯re on a deadline here. If I see you people sitting around like nothing¡¯s wrong, I¡¯m doing this myself. Understood?¡± Omet nodded. ¡°It¡¯s something. But we are gonna help.¡± Quet raised a hand. ¡°Actually, does it have to just be the people currently present who figure this out?¡± Recognition flashed on Omet¡¯s face. ¡°Wait, does your locator still work?¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°Dunno, maybe? Been a while since I checked. But a matrix held together with twine and wishful thinking will still do something.¡± She got up from her seat. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have any particular aversion to cooperation from Domains not currently living in our house, would you, Waia?¡± Waia tried to piece together what Quet was talking about. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Omet nudged her. ¡°She¡¯s got a reso-something tracking beacon, she¡¯s asking if we should get other Domains on board with this.¡± Waia scoffed. ¡°Well, if any are left that¡¯ll still agree to something like that, of course. But I¡¯m not gonna get my hopes up over this.¡± ¡°Worth a shot.¡± Quet went round the table and towards the rest of the group. ¡°We can check it out in my room, figure out a plan beyond ¡®blar, violence¡¯.¡± She turned to face the rest of the table. ¡°And if any of you want seconds, uh¡­¡± She fished through a shirt pocket and placed four stones on the table. ¡°Give those a slap. And share.¡± She followed Omet, Waia, Mark and Horan up the stairs. - The island in the middle of the bay had once been a prison, and quite a famous one at that. It hadn¡¯t seen use as one for decades, however, and many of the original facilities had either been cleared out for the convenience of tourists, or looted by scavengers once there was nobody around to stop them. Nevertheless, a disgraced fortress was still a fortress. But that was no longer its sole use. ¡°This is RS-USA-19, security code 3361. Verify reception, over.¡± The facility''s radio operator looked up their notebook of station codes. They flipped through a few pages before leaning back towards their radio''s receiver. ¡°Code verified. This is HQ-USA-1, security code 8427. State your reason for connection, over.¡± A pause. ¡°Code verified. Relaying message from VHC-MXC-3, Huntmaster-level clearance. Intended for CD ears only, over.¡± ¡°Understood. Patching in.¡± The operator flipped a switch and sent the transmission up to the Cloak and Dagger. The intangible message rose past dank cell blocks, rusted metal and dozens of locked-up Chosen that served as the sole inhabitants of a full half of the island, save for one. Torch was in the middle of rearranging the assorted memorabilia that filled a massive shelf on a full wall of their office/quarters. They looked back at the small radio setup on the desk, which crackled with the sound of an incoming message. Torch quickly put everything back in its place on the shelf and walked over to the desk, cracking at least a dozen stiff joints on their twenty-foot journey. They sat down and rubbed their haggard face before picking up the microphone and holding it close. ¡°Speak.¡± ¡°Message from the third Mexican hunter cadre for you. Encoded as per Huntmaster-level clearance. Whoever you put in charge down there has some big news, it looks like, over.¡± Torch pulled open a drawer and extracted an ugly, fist-sized device equipped with a microphone and speaker. They set it next to the radio''s speaker and pressed the power button, bringing the device to life with a strained whirr. ¡°Proceed.¡± The transition from speaker to microphone to speaker, along with several hundred miles of transportation along an ad hoc radio relay network, did not do wonders for the audio quality. Still, the mess of garbled noise that vaguely sounded like a voice was sorted coherently by the device into a listenable message. ¡°Cloak and Dagger, this is Vanguard Three. Aerial stealth reconnaissance has located a structure south of Mexico City matching your description of the Aztecs¡¯ residence. Forces are on standby in and around the nearest civilian centralization zone, designated on maps as Cuernavaca. Ready to proceed upon your arrival and instruction, over and out.¡± The message ended there. Torch took the radio''s microphone. ¡°Received. You or a qualified on-hand peer are to locate a VIP who was brought to this city four days ago, currently inhabiting the Chinatown neighborhood. He is to be escorted to the Cuernavaca base of operations. Upon arrival, the current Huntmaster is to be informed that they have been relieved of command by my order. That will be all.¡± "Your orders will be disseminated to the appropriate personnel and carried out post-haste. Vengeance scattered. Over and out.¡± ¡°Vengeance scattered,¡± mumbled Torch, standing and walking towards the door. Torch whistled. A pile of curved steel plates in the corner of the room flew towards them and wrapped themselves around them, reforming their full suit of armor. They then took their cloak and mask from a hat rack by the door and covered their head. It seemed like they would be heading out into the world once more, a chance to fulfill their duty having once more presented itself. With a third whistle, their sword was slung over their back. They took one last look at the table, particularly the framed photo of two women standing in front of a house. With that, they left the room. It had been too long. Chapter 4 The five entered Quet¡¯s room, shutting the door and turning off the lights at Quet¡¯s behest. Quet pressed against a nondescript section of the ground-floor wall. ¡°Made th¨C¡± The wall section sprang forward, revealing itself to be a concealed drawer. Half a dozen large, stuffed toy sharks, having been packed like sardines into the drawer, sprang out and spilled around Quet¡¯s ankles. She pressed the drawer back into the wall. ¡°Wrong closet. I¡¯ll clean those up later.¡± She tried another section lower down, this time revealing half a dozen of what looked to be wooden suitcases inside the concealed compartment. She blew the dust off of one of them and pulled it out and onto the floor. ¡°As I was saying, I made these when I was first learning matrix construction techniques. Inexperienced fool that I was, I chose Cree style to focus on first.¡± The other four sat in a circle around Quet as she placed the rectangular box in the middle and opened it. The top split in two like a set of double doors, making the old hinges squeak in protest. The inside was revealed the inside to be hollow and lined with dull, carved glyphs. Quet winced. ¡°Amateur work. With the Mapuche style, I could make an improved version in three¨C no, two months. And more portable, too. ¡®Hey, let me just carry around half a dozen crates of glyphs, good to have the absolute basics on hand. Oh, I¡¯m supposed to do a single, halfway complex spell? Sure, let me just hire a moving compan¨C¡¯¡± ¡°Just turn it on,¡± said Waia. ¡°Right, okay. Yes.¡± Quet pressed down on a glyph in the middle of the box¡¯s floor with her thumb, making the whole contraption light up with a green glow. A translucent jade copy of the world faded into existence a foot above the box, roughly the size of a beach ball. While the orb began to increase in luminosity and detail, Quet continued speaking. ¡°This little thaumaturgical mistake is tuned to sweep the planet¡¯s ambient magic field and detect the thaumic resonances of Primus souls. I had to really turn up the sensitivity so that Deus didn¡¯t just drown out every other Domain in the Mediterranean, so this thing should still work for the weakened Domains. We just can¡¯t use it for too long. This was before I figured out a good emergency self-disassembly matrix. The carpet¡¯s flammable, and I doubt any of you want a demonstration of that fact.¡± Omet looked at the depiction of Mexico on the globe. In the southern half, a collection of tiny, multicolored pinpricks of light lit up and seemed to fight for dominance right about where their home was located. ¡°Well, it¡¯s picking us up, at least. Would be nice to know how many Domains are left, actually.¡± The five observed the globe, looking out for any colors that weren¡¯t green. On occasion, someone spotted the odd solitary, dim light. Aside from that, the western hemisphere was scanned with terrifying uneventfulness. Dread mounted on Horan¡¯s face. ¡°They¡¯re all¡­ mortal. I¨C I didn¡¯t think it would even happen that fast¡­¡± ¡°Looks like they got to all the others who were still doing okay.¡± Mark looked back at the globe, then pointed at a spot near the globe¡¯s equator. ¡°Hey, I¡¯ve got a big one.¡± The entire group crowded around him, trying to spot what he had seen. Sure enough, another cluster of dots slightly larger than the one in Mexico was located in northwestern India. Quet and Omet groaned at the same time as Horan¡¯s elated fist-pump. Waia just shrugged. ¡°Alright. India. Don¡¯t know much about them, but if they¡¯ve made it this far.¡± ¡°No! No!¡± Omet waved their hand through the dots, making that patch of the globe fuzzy and indistinct for a few seconds. ¡°We¡¯ve still got something like half the planet left to check, we are not jumping to any conclusions!¡± ¡°The sweep extends in all directions,¡± said Quet, sitting cross-legged on the floor and hugging one of the shark toys to her chest. ¡°India would¡¯ve been hit close to last¡­ Yup, that¡¯s the Maldives covered. We just saw the location of every living Primus on earth.¡± She promptly closed the box with her foot, making the projection vanish in an instant. ¡°Safety.¡± Omet buried their face in a nearby beanbag chair, their frustrated scream muffled by the cushion. Meanwhile, Horan straightened up. ¡°No, no, this is¡­ Okay, a total of five still-immortal Domains, one of which consists entirely of me, that¡¯s¡­ Yeah, it¡¯s a lot. But, but, India¡¯s a pretty good one to have left over.¡± He began to count on his fingers as he spoke. ¡°They¡¯re pretty strong, given the former size of their civilization, even though there¡¯s quite a few of them. Best of all, they¡¯re not a bunch of idiots like the Norse.¡± ¡°Unlike the Norse?¡± Quet slid the box back into its resting place. ¡°Yes. Not idiots? Eh¡­¡± ¡°Oh come on,¡± said Horan, ¡°You people give them too much flak. They¡¯re only a problem if you¡­ Don¡¯t do what I do when I¡¯m around them. Breezy Slide isn¡¯t something you¡¯re born with, you know. It just takes training. Not even that much, really.¡± Omet lifted their face out of the chair. ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about, and I can already tell you¡¯re telling us to do something dumb.¡± ¡°Wh¨C Am not!¡± Mark shot Horan a glance. ¡°You absolutely are. I¡¯m the only one who¡¯s gotten into your head enough to understand your bizarre thought process, and I know exactly how stupid you¡¯re being.¡± Waia looked between Omet and Horan. ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve never really dealt with the Indians, so I don¡¯t know who¡¯s overreacting right now. Nor do I care, really. If we ask them to help us deal with the cult trying¡ª and succeeding¡ª to kill us all, are they gonna say yes?¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°No way.¡± Horan¡¯s and Omet¡¯s answers came in at the same time. Horan looked at Omet, thought for a moment, and concluded with a ¡°Maybe. Probably.¡± ¡°Good enough, get ¡®em on the phone.¡± Waia made for the door. ¡°Meanwhile, I¡¯m gonna check out those towns Mark was talking about. See if I can figure out where the ones I¡¯m after are hiding.¡± Omet caught up with her. ¡°Hey, we just tried to explain to you why immediately heading out and fighting stuff is a bad idea. We should at least wait until we contact the Indians before doing anything like that. And that by itself is gonna take a while, because we don¡¯t have their number. I¡¯m not sure they even have a phone, let alone one that still works these days.¡± ¡°Eh¡­¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Some reconnaissance on our part might be good, actually. We don¡¯t know how long we have until the Servants find us. Maybe they have already and are mounting an attack as we speak. We should probably check on them, at the bare minimum.¡± Waia held her hand out at Mark. ¡°Thank you! Finally, someone who doesn¡¯t want to just sit around and let the problem come to them! You and me, Mark. We¡¯re gonna be the ones who actually get things done around here.¡± Horan brought his arm around Omet¡¯s shoulder and pulled them close. ¡°And we are gonna be the ones who use our regal persuasiveness to get the Indians on side¡­ Wait, how are we gonna do that?¡± Quet pulled another hidden drawer open and removed a dusty box labeled ¡®IMPRQOVE¡ª URGENT¡¯ in permanent marker. ¡°I figured out how to do a proper dimensional translocation matrix thanks to notes I took in the Down Below. I just ended up misunderstanding a few variables, and now the matrix only takes you to the place in the Down Below that you were in most recently. They¡¯ll still work for our purposes, though.¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s impressive work, good job.¡± Omet bent slightly under the weight of Horan¡¯s arm. ¡°I still think trying to convince the Indians to stick their necks out for us is a bad idea.¡± They glanced over at Mark. ¡°It took me a while to remember anything that stuck out from the rest of the mush of most Old World Domains, and then I realized that there isn¡¯t much to separate them. No offence to Horan, he¡¯s cool, but there¡¯s not much east of the Atlantic besides caricatures of how rich humans lived in the middle ages or something.¡± ¡°That changes nothing,¡± declared Horan. Quet raised her hand. ¡°I¡¯m willing to take one for the team, I guess. If it means Omet doesn¡¯t have to. I already hate meeting new strangers, so this¡¯ll be something I¡¯m familiar with.¡± Horan let go of Omet and shook his head at Quet. ¡°Sorry, but considering all the moving parts that doing something like this on such short notice involves, it¡¯ll just be me and Omet heading out. Mark and Waia are occupied too, so you and everyone else here can deal with the preparations. We¡¯re coming to them, so it¡¯s customary that we set up the frills for the negotiation social. We¡¯re Primoi, we all know the b¨C¡± Waia let out a groan, one meant to convey just how much disdain she had for this new aspect of the conversation. ¡°Really? You¡¯re all just leaning into stereotypes at this point, when you could be doing things. It¡¯s pretty hard to find a situation where a party is less appropriate, and you do it anyway! We have bigger things to worry about than hors doov¡­ dew¡­ However you pronounce the party snacks!¡± Horan stepped towards Waia, arms clasped in front of his chest nervously. ¡°Okay, yeah, this feels a little inconsiderate for us to be doing when our lives are at risk, but if we¡¯re bringing the Indians over to our place, it¡¯ll take some dazzle to tide folks like them over. And¡­¡± He ran a hand through his hair. ¡°This really isn¡¯t something we should be sparing expenses on.¡± ¡°Well, sure.¡± Quet trotted over to Horan¡¯s side. ¡°That¡¯s, yeah, that¡¯s something I can do! I can probably find someone downstairs who can handle responsibility better than me. Or Omet can just go splitsies and be both here and there, actually.¡± Omet nodded enthusiastically at the rest. ¡°That. I¡¯m doing that. Should¡¯ve been obvious from the start.¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Yeah, the Indians probably don¡¯t know you can do that. Just don¡¯t tell them you¡¯re only half with them, and they probably won¡¯t get insulted.¡± ¡°Fine then.¡± Waia stuffed her hands in her pockets. ¡°Jobs assigned, plan made. I guess we sit on our hands now until you¡¯ve all worked up the courage to do your jobs?¡± Horan lifted up a torn flap of leather from the shoulder of Waia¡¯s jacket. ¡°I mean, you could clean yourself up, for starters. You¡¯ve spent three-something months wearing the same clothes that you very visibly lost a fight in.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Waia pulled away from him. ¡°I didn¡¯t lose that fight, they chickened out before I could finish the job! ¡®Waia never loses¡¯!¡± ¡°Inside voice, please.¡± Waia huffed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how long it takes or how many people I need to go through, I¡¯m finishing what that smug little¡­¡± She turned away and went for the door. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll change. But you¡¯re not helping.¡± ¡°Check if you can borrow some of Teca¡¯s wardrobe,¡± added Horan, ¡°He¡¯s got the same biker style as you. Pretty sure he¡¯s still downstairs, if you want to ask.¡± Mark hesitantly stood next to Horan once Waia was gone. ¡°This might be mean, but I¡¯m starting to regret going with her alone.¡± ¡°I do remember her being more, uh¡­ pleasant, is the right word,¡± agreed Quet. Omet sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s just give her some time to cool down and get settled in. This is a lot for all of us, and it¡¯s coming all at once. We can do something relaxing this evening, something to take our minds off all this.¡± Quet took a deep breath and winced at their sibling. ¡°Actually, we should probably start by ripping the band-aid off and bringing the Greeks up to speed on the whole Orsinus thing.¡± Omet shrank into their cardigan. ¡°Should¡¯ve expected that, actually. Not what I had in mind when I said ¡®relaxing¡¯, but I guess I don¡¯t have much of a choice on that front.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Quet made airquotes with her hands. ¡°It¡¯s not really ¡®ripping the band-aid off¡¯ when we¡¯ve been avoiding it for three months.¡± Omet glanced around the dark, cluttered room before turning back to Quet. ¡°Hey, are you gonna be using that beanbag for anything?¡± ¡°...Nothing planned, no.¡± ¡°Cool, thanks.¡± Omet faceplanted into the cushioned fabric, arms splayed wide. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna lie here for a while, if that¡¯s okay.¡± ¡°Nah, it¡¯s cool.¡± Quet sat by her desk and opened up several drawers built into the legs. ¡°I¡¯ll keep myself busy by going through my collection for any matrices that might be useful for prepping this place. That¡¯ll hopefully assuage the lingering idea that our home could be attacked by murder cultists at any moment.¡± ¡°Yeah, um¡­¡± Horan left the room with Mark in tow. ¡°Some time to gather our nerves would be nice.¡± Alone with her sibling, Quet looked from the glyph-filled drawers and toward where Omet was lying. ¡°This is worth breaking our May local-meals-only tradition prematurely, right?¡± ¡°Mmf.¡± Chapter 5 Teca draped a studded denim vest-jacket over Waia¡¯s new T-shirt. ¡°Yeah, pretty sure that¡¯s the smallest fit I¡¯ve got. I mean, you can have ¡®em, I don¡¯t really use them anymore, but those are really loose.¡± Waia shifted into her true form, removing the massive gaps between the bottoms of the sleeves and her arms. When she shifted back, the clothes fit her perfectly. ¡°...Wait, you can do that?¡± Waia folded her old clothes up into a pile. ¡°Trick I learned when I had to scrounge for new clothes. They go both ways when you shift, after all.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind, I guess.¡± Waia waved Teca off as she left the room. ¡°Thanks for the new stuff, I''ll bring it back if I can.¡± She grabbed her old clothes on her way out. Mark leant against the railing opposite the door to Teca''s room, waiting for Waia. When he saw her leave, his eyes went wide. ¡°You''ve had a sleeve tattoo this entire time?¡± Waia glanced down at the mass of swirling colors that adorned most of her right arm. ¡°Oh yeah, the jackets cover up my ink most of the time. It''s still a solid conversation starter at bars, though.¡± She gave a small smile and pointed a finger-gun at Mark. Mark looked at the floor. ¡°Man, I wish I had one of those.¡± ¡°Eh, it''s pretty high-maintenance when you get cut as much as me.¡± Waia brought a hand up to one of several patches of bare skin that implied that a scar was supposed to be there. ¡°Healing factor can''t do everything. When my Domain saw I got this one, half of them refused to talk to me for a month. I mean, they didn''t do that much anyway, but now they were making a point of it.¡± Mark chuckled and turned around to look down from the balcony. Waia joined Mark against the railing and continued. ¡°Told you, it''s a great icebreaker. Yeah, you''d think they would just give up on passive-aggressively telling me they hate everything I do after eight centuries, but no, those guys are persistent. Or... Were.¡± Mark turned to Waia and opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him down. ¡°Ah, it''s no big loss on my end. That story should be enough to get across my thoughts on those morons. I won''t go so far as to say ¡®good riddance'', but...¡± Mark and Waia watched the Primoi below mill about nervously. After a while, Mark sighed. ¡°So, this hasn¡¯t really been how any of us wanted our day to go.¡± ¡°I would assume.¡± Waia gripped the railing. ¡°But you¡¯re gonna help me with this, right? And I mean help-help, not just the occasional word of fake encouragement.¡± ¡°Oh, no, absolutely. I told Horan I was gonna be cleaning my gun for the afternoon, and I¡¯m pretty sure he thinks that¡¯s the closest thing to fun I can have.¡± Mark squinted and looked at the crowd below. ¡°Yup, there he is.¡± Horan was standing in front of the couches arrayed around the TV, examining various parts of the room around him. ¡°I give him an hour until he gets nervous and decides to see how I¡¯m doing,¡± continued Mark. Waia grunted. ¡°That gives us a four-hour headstart on them. I¡¯m sure we can lose them in that time, especially if we take a car from any nearby highway, those are packed with the things this close to a major city.¡± Mark let the railing carry his weight. ¡°But¡­ I dunno, do we have to do this now? Leaving prematurely is just gonna make them come after us.¡± ¡°Omet¡¯s just being unreasonable, Mark. The last time they decided to wait for the perfect moment, we all almost died and they lost a brother. I honestly have no idea how they¡¯re still okay with waiting like this.¡± ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± Mark stepped away from the railing. ¡°Thirty-five years isn¡¯t much time for gaining wisdom compared to your three thousand or whatever, but I have picked up that people are hard to change. Heading out early for the sake of it is just gonna freak them out and make them come after us.¡± ¡°So what? We¡¯re just gonna let those Servants sit out there and watch us? The most warning these people gave Honoka¡¯a was a thirty-second monologue, and I don¡¯t think they¡¯re gonna be that generous the second time around.¡± Waia let go of the railing. Slight dents remained where her fingers had been. ¡°You should¡¯ve learned a second thing these past few months: Waiting gets people killed.¡± Mark folded his arms. ¡°We have a plan, and we¡¯re all playing a part in it. If we go against that now, it¡¯s gonna turn out a whole lot worse than waiting a few hours.¡± Waia began to search the foyer for alternate exit points. ¡°Maybe. But I can leave by myself and be just fine.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to die.¡± Waia held up a hand. ¡°One: ¡®Waia never loses¡¯. Two: That¡¯s kind of the thing about trying to stop a Primus with an army of humans. They get a good look at me, learn my name, anything like that, and it¡¯s like drinking straight from the hose. You¡¯ve seen me in action. I¡¯ll manage.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Look, I neither can nor will stop you, but I¡¯m just trying to tell you that this is a very bad idea. The Servants have been hunting down demons and Primoi and everything else for as long as they¡¯ve been around, and if they¡¯ve been able to cover most of the world, they have to be doing something right.¡± ¡°Oh, please. The only reason their leader isn¡¯t shark bait right now is because they got to hide behind¡­¡± Waia looked down at her boots. ¡°...My point is that it was a one-time thing. I find enough Servants in one place, I get stronger faster than they can kill me.¡± ¡°Bravado might¡¯ve worked against one demon and a lobotomized monster-Primus,¡± muttered Mark, ¡°but this is an army, and one who knows what it takes to bring down people like you. I know armies. We need to be smart about this kind of thing, because underestimating an enemy force like this is by far the easiest way to get killed, powered-up or not. You might be immortal and bulletproof, but can you deal with a drone strike? Long-range artillery? Chemical warfare? Or do you plan to be quiet for this?¡± Waia looked away from the foyer, staring Mark directly in the eye. ¡°When you first asked to talk to me, I figured you were on board to join me for this.¡± ¡°I was, and I still am. But halfway through, I realized that just up and leaving was stupid. You¡¯re allowed to admit when you¡¯re wrong, you know. Nobody¡¯s going to think less of you.¡± Waia stared at Mark for a moment, groaned, and stepped away from the railing. ¡°First thing in the morning, we¡¯re out. And this is entirely bec¨C¡± She stopped herself and winced. ¡°Right. Never tried to lie until now.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Well, uh¡­ Get some rest, if you can. Just because we¡¯re giving ourselves more prep time doesn¡¯t mean this is gonna be a walk in the park.¡± ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see about that.¡± Waia made for the stairs. ¡°Th¡­¡± She trailed off and left in silence. Mark decided to go and do what he had told Horan he was doing. - Suleman felt awkward, being the only one in the car with a visible face. It wasn¡¯t an alien feeling to him, he had been in the Servants for something like six months after all, but being forced to look at dead-eyed gas masks while talking to someone throughout the entirety of a several day-long trip was getting to him. He began to understand why civilian members of the Servants had taken to calling the Huntsmen Bug-eyes behind their backs. The old man really wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about getting assigned like this. On the one hand, he had retained lordship over his city when the Servants took over, and was more than a little enthusiastic to have the chance to stick it to that one Primus who had made him and his community look like a joke. On the other, he had spent months being shipped across a pretty sizeable continent, followed by an even more sizeable ocean. And here he was, given command of an entire army of Servants out of the blue as if he was some kind of chosen one. That sort of thing didn¡¯t go unquestioned by him. But then he decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth and would not wonder about the issue for the rest of the trip. He was greeted by a somewhat diminutive figure, who thankfully did not wear a mask, the moment he was let out of the car. Icy blue eyes punctuated their smug countenance, unbroken save for a faded scar that ran from the side of their nose to the corner of their mouth. The greeter extended a hand. ¡°The new Huntmaster, so nice to have you here. Or should I just call you Suleman? Ah, doesn¡¯t really matter. We¡¯re all siblings in arms these days, after all. Vengeance scattered, am I right?¡± Suleman hesitantly shook their hand. ¡°...Hello. Were you told I would be coming?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± The person turned, gestured for Suleman to follow, and led him through the improvised parking lot. ¡°You¡¯re replacing our old Huntmaster, what with all of your prior experience with capturing Primoi ¡®freelance¡¯. And don¡¯t worry about the last guy. He¡¯s just been demoted to something more suited to one of his ability.¡± They glanced at someone at work underneath an ATV. ¡°I see you, Carlos! I¡¯m the boss now, keep slacking off down there and I¡¯m getting you put on cleanup duty!¡± They smirked and looked back at Suleman. ¡°Oh, who am I kidding, I¡¯m gonna do that anyway. But enough about that has-been. Esparza, chief consultant-slash-advisor for the third cadre''s top dog. Pleased to make your subordinate, new Huntmaster. In here, if you would.¡± Esparza led Suleman into a surprisingly intact storefront. Suleman couldn¡¯t speak Spanish, but the imagery next to the name suggested it was some kind of hardware store. The interior made no such implications. Shelves had been overturned and turned into radio stations, manned by plainclothes Servants who filled the room with chatter in half a dozen different languages. The whole thing felt like a World War Two-era bunker. Suleman was quickly brought up to the second floor, which was thankfully far less cluttered. Esparza stood by the door, letting Suleman take in the pathetically sparse living quarters by himself. ¡°Welcome to the Huntmaster¡¯s quarters, you¡¯ll be staying here for the next¡­ Oh, however long it takes to exterminate the local Domain. I¡¯m sure you had it better back home, on the other side of the planet, so if you feel like upgrading, I¡¯m sure you can find some uninhabited building to nab some furniture from. Might want to work fast on that front, though. Cuernavaca here is the only permanent base for a hundred kilometers or so, and we¡¯re still pulling in new Servants from local hidey-holes. So, there¡¯s all that.¡± Suleman dejectedly sat down on the bare mattress, which let out more of a scream than a creak. ¡°Um¡­ I did expect more.¡± ¡°Well, expect the occasional request for orders if our hard-working brethren down below don¡¯t think they have the clearance to handle it. I think the last guy had to actually give orders twice between here and the old border, and one of them led to his demotion. So, hey. You get to work from home, and you¡¯ve got plenty of break time to do whatever you want, but potential assassins mean you won¡¯t be leaving this building without a coordinated escort detail. I can¡¯t imagine anything worse. Have fun!¡± Esparza dipped out of the room. A moment later, they peeked back inside. ¡°Oh, by the way, Torch is probably gonna be arriving eventually to see how things are going for us. Not sure why they couldn¡¯t just come with you, considering the two of you were stationed in the same city, but who am I to judge the savior of humankind? Okay, that¡¯s everything.¡± They left once more. Suleman looked around their virtually empty room, tried to make anything out through the shuttered windows, and laid down. The mattress was sticky. Chapter 6 Fortunately for Waia, the Aztecs had grossly overestimated how many Greeks they needed to take in while they had expanded the quarters. The available ones were comparatively small and barebones, at least compared to Quet¡¯s multi-tiered fortress of a bedroom, but they still had a bed and everything. It was better than a raft. Waia had gone to bed early and woken up at 3 AM, a harsh inversion of how her days usually began and ended. She still had a few hours to kill before the day began for real, and creating audio feedback with her phone and the Aztecs¡¯ landline was only fun for so long. Out of other options, she decided to raid a nearby supply closet for paper, pencils and a spare charging cable. The only half-decent sketchpad she could find had evidently been used before, judging by the fact that a third of the yellowed sheets were covered in page-spanning drawings. Waia decided to look through the old drawings while her phone was charging back up. The room¡¯s one window didn¡¯t offer the best view, after all, and she had a bit of a backlog of photos that she wanted to work through. The pad¡¯s cover had ¡®Cacict Art Journal¡¯ written on the front. Each subsequent page had a date written in the top left-hand corner, starting out in April of 1924 and ending seven months later. It seemed like a new page had been used every day. The drawings started off crude, like the artist was uncomfortable with their pencil. This feeling was exacerbated by the marks of erasure use on the page. Several parts of the scenes depicted had jarringly different artstyles, like the artist had copied someone else¡¯s drawings. The drawn scenes themselves appeared to just be a snapshot of some event within the Aztec household, like a shoddy Vermeer painting. These were punctuated by an attempt at replicating various museum-grade paintings in the style of the original artist, these occurring two or three times a week. Waia continued flipping through the images. Drawings became more detailed and anatomically accurate, and the copied parts were swapped out for less sophisticated but more cohesive art. The painting copies, however, remained crude and shaky. Eventually, the art began to regress. The original drawings evidently became shoddier and more rushed, and many painting copies were left unfinished. The signs of eraser usage vanished altogether. The most recent drawing was abandoned before it could even reach a stage where Waia recognize what it depicted. Waia checked her phone. It actually turned on when she pressed the power button. Good enough. She opened up her photo gallery and began looking for references¡­ Right, that picture she had taken from the top of Mauna Kea. Great distance, and Honoka¡¯a was still visible right by the ocean. She was surprised she had never gotten around to drawing it before then. The best part of drawing like this was that it gave her hands something to do while her mind was able to attend to other things. As long as she had her reference in clear view, she could completely space out and snap back to find a half-finished sketch. It was like drawing in her sleep. She could just relax and let her hands do the drawing for her. After some time of just letting herself soak in nothing in particular, she came back to reality and checked her progress. She appeared to be halfway done with a head-and-shoulders profile of Ivy. A second and a half later, three holes had been punched into the sketchpad, the pencil was rammed through the most recent one, and the pad/pencil combo was flying into the wall opposite Waia. The spiral binding bent into uselessness, the pencil snapped in two and the pages went flying all over the floor. Waia buried her face in her hands and curled up on the bed. - ¡°And that¡¯s how things are going right now. ¡®Kay, later.¡± Omet left the meeting in the middle of the foyer, trudging up the stairs as though a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders, only to be replaced by an even bigger one. The Greeks were all exchanging worried whispers with one another. In lieu of a gavel, Horan sent a small gust of wind blowing through some wind chimes that he had taken from the back porch and now held in one hand. ¡°Okay, you can discuss all that in what little free time you may end up getting. As of now, this calls to order the first emergency meeting of the Aztec Party Planning Committee.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to specify ¡®emergency¡¯,¡± said Quet, seated between two of her siblings on the couches around the TV. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said Horan. ¡°What does matter is that we¡¯re bringing the Indians on board to help us with¡­ all this.¡± The Aztecs groaned collectively, while many Greeks turned away from each other and raised their eyebrows. Horan continued. ¡°Despite my new role as founder of the APPC, I won¡¯t be here for any of the preparations, as I will be helping Omet convince the Indians to come over. They¡¯ll be busy rehearsing in their room, in case you were wondering. Due to my absence, I am temporarily ceding all authority to whichever half of Omet doesn¡¯t leave with me. So now, they¡¯re still in charge of making this place look nice, but I¡¯m not giving the APPC over to them. Work fast.¡± He stepped out of the semicircle of sofas, stopped, sighed and walked back in front of everyone. ¡°Okay, maybe just a little addendum, to set you all on the right track.¡± He tossed the wind chimes aside, letting them float gently to the ground with a melodic rustle. ¡°The Indians are gonna have high expectations, so we need to meet them. And this place as it is now isn¡¯t gonna cut it.¡± One Aztec raised her hand. ¡°Or, alternately, we could just¡­ not deal with the Indians? Seems like it would be worth a lot less hassle if we just asked someone more fun for help.¡± The Aztecs murmured and nodded in assent. ¡°Like the Navajo,¡± added one. This prompted much more enthusiastic agreement from the rest. Horan suddenly wished Omet hadn¡¯t left him out to dry. ¡°Yeah, well, if you want to do that, be my guest. If you can somehow get in contact with the scattered, likely mortal remains of the Navajo, they might work as an alternative, I don¡¯t really know anything about them. But in the meantime, we can prepare for the one Domain left on earth that is still in one piece!¡± Horan¡¯s response was remarkably efficient at shutting up his audience. He wiped his forehead. ¡°Okay, things have seriously taken a turn for the worse today. But honestly? This had to happen at some point. We can¡¯t just hang around and hope that everything turns out fine. Domains have been dropping like flies all over the world, which we didn¡¯t even know about, and we¡¯re next on the chopping block. I don¡¯t care how little you all want to deal with the Indians, they¡¯re our only option right now. So you know what? We¡¯re all just gonna tough this out and show those people out there that they picked the wrong fight. And step one is getting those Indians over here and proving that we can all make it through this. Our backs were bound to end up against the wall at some point, but you¡¯re not the kind of people to give up when you¡¯re cornered, are you?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The audience was silent. Eventually, one Aztec shrugged. ¡°Better than dying, I guess.¡± Horan let out a breath. ¡°I¡¯ll work on it. I¡¯m heading out with a half-Omet basically right now. But while I go, I want everyone to be taking stock of what we have, as well as what we can do between now and when the Indians arrive. Regroup here in twenty minutes, that¡¯s when you form a real plan. Everyone¡¯s counting on everyone.¡± The Greeks and Aztecs began looking around the foyer. ¡°Now! Get moving!¡± Horan waved the two Domains to their feet. Once the Aztecs were a good distance away, Saralai gestured for the Greeks to come in close. They entered a tight-knit huddle with each other, and when Horan tried to approach and listen, the glares he received showed that he wasn¡¯t welcome. - Omet quietly opened the door to Hurat¡¯s room, slipped inside, and turned the key on the inside. They leaned against the door, slid down to the floor and sighed. ¡°Hey, uh, it¡¯s me again. Sorry if today¡¯s visit is shorter than normal, I¡¯ve got a lot of stuff going on right now. Everyone does, actually.¡± They got up, sat on the bed and reached for Hurat¡¯s guitar on the wall, then decided to leave it be while they spoke. ¡°So, to very quickly summarize, since I need to meet up with Horan: Waia showed up, like, ten minutes after I talked to you yesterday. You don¡¯t know her, actually, we met during that whole Down Below fiasco.¡± In lieu of doing what they normally did with their hands in Hurat¡¯s room, Omet just fiddled with the edges of their cardigan. ¡°And, uh, it turns out we¡¯ve got a bunch of humans hunting Primoi down all over the world, and they¡¯re basically on our front lawn. Waia¡¯s probably the only reason we found out before they broke in and pointed guns at us¡­¡± They let out a sigh. ¡°Well, at least we got some warning. Now, we can do something about it.¡± Omet stood up from the bed. ¡°I guess the last few months have just been boot camp. Now it¡¯s time to see if I can really do what you could¡­ But I¡¯d say that¡¯s all the time I¡¯ve got in here. Fingers crossed, am I right?¡± They quickly unlocked the door and left. Omet crossed to the other side of the balcony and watched the end of Horan¡¯s speech to the Domains. Once he was done, they decided to head to their room and wait for Horan to wrap up and meet them there, like they had planned. It came as quite the rude surprise, then, when they turned around and found out that Horan was floating right behind them in the doorway. Omet yelped. ¡°How¡¯d you get up here so quick?!¡± ¡°One, you barely had a head start. Two, I¨C I can fly. I actually got here before you did, I just wanted to see what you would do.¡± Omet pulled their arms to their chest. ¡°...Okay? Guess we should start doing those rehearsals, right?¡± Horan tucked his arms behind his head, drifting in mid-air as if in an invisible hammock. ¡°I don¡¯t know, should we?¡± ¡°...What are you doing?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Just getting you to take some initiative. You¡¯re the one in charge, and you gotta make that clear to the Indians. Step one is deciding whether or not you¡¯re going to do the thing you said you were going to do.¡± ¡°This seems superfluous.¡± Omet stepped past Horan. Horan came back down to earth, making him less of an obstacle for Omet. ¡°You might think that now, but the outward persona is a complex and fickle thing. You need to know all kinds of minutiae to properly put up something that the person you¡¯re speaking to will be happy with.¡± He put his arm around Omet¡¯s shoulder. ¡°The art of the Breezy Slide is one that I¡¯ve been developing since the Bronze Age, and I¡¯m now trying to give you, a newcomer to the ways of the people-pleaser, a primer on the craft.¡± ¡°Mhm¡­¡± Omet looked down at their feet. ¡°While I¡¯m sure your weirdly-named strategy works fine for you, I¡¯ve got a role model to look at and emulate.¡± ¡°Both my dad and my uncle were pharaoh before me. Also a different uncle, very briefly, but I¡¯d rather not count him.¡± ¡°But were they good at it?¡± Horan looked away. ¡°I mean, you saw how well Thel ended up doing, so¡­¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± Omet ducked, freeing them from Horan¡¯s embrace. ¡°Hurat kept us together for seven centuries, and he only stopped when he got pulled into another dimension and murdered by an evil messiah. And you know what he always said about this kind of thing? ¡®Stick to your guns¡¯.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Horan sat on Omet¡¯s bed. ¡°And what exactly are your ¡®guns¡¯?¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Omet remained silent as they took a seat at their desk, turning the chair around to face Horan. ¡°I will admit, I haven¡¯t figured that out yet. Three months is a lot less than seven hundred years. I just figure I can act natural and work it out from there.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a time and place to act natural,¡± said Horan, ¡°and this won¡¯t be one of them. We need to give the Indians what they want. You ever spoken to Kuravaan? Their leader?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever even seen them.¡± ¡°Well, if you did, you¡¯d know that you-you isn¡¯t gonna cut it. These folks respond to spectacle.¡± Omet raised their eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯ve got my fair share of spectacle, you know. You haven¡¯t really gotten the chance to see since nobody leaves the house much these days, but my family¡¯s pretty fond of putting on our own independent stage play productions, and I¡¯m generally the one who handles backstage logistics.¡± Horan¡¯s expression did not change. ¡°You¡¯ll be lucky if they don¡¯t take one look at you and laugh you out of their home. If it helps, that applies to both of us right now.¡± He looked down at his immaculate denim jacket. ¡°I¡¯ve been getting a bit too comfortable with my¡­ plebeian look.¡± Omet pulled their cardigan close. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me I need to wear rich person clothes.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Horan¡¯s movement seemed to grind to a halt. ¡°I don¡¯t want to call them ¡®rich person clothes¡¯, it¡¯s just socially appropriate refinement, is all. Maybe just dress in a way that doesn¡¯t make you look like a librarian.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong, but ouch.¡± ¡°Still a problem that needs addressing, dude.¡± Omet looked at the floor. ¡°You know, I¡¯m starting to see where my family was coming from.¡± Horan threw his hands up. ¡°I just gave this whole speech! I know you were listening! I¨C Do you want me to just ask the Indians alone? You don¡¯t have to come, it¡¯s just riskier.¡± ¡°No, no, sorry, I¡¯m¡­¡± Omet took a deep breath. ¡°Sorry. Saying that was stupid. I¡¯m doing this. So what exactly is your plan for this?¡± ¡°Well, that depends on you,¡± said Horan. ¡°What would you say you look good in? Maybe we should do this in my dressing room. I have yet to pick out my semi-formal outdoor daywear, after all.¡± Omet hurriedly shrugged off their cardigan. ¡°Hey, no, I¡¯ve got stuff here! But, uh¡­ Nothing you would accept.¡± Horan decided to just check their closet. ¡°We¡¯ll see about that.¡± He reached out to take out what looked like a suit, then cringed and pulled his hand away when he realized that it was covered in discolored patches black-and-white stripes. ¡°I see¡­ You stayed around the Greeks¡¯ party long enough for at least one conversation, you¡¯ve gotta have something appropriate.¡± ¡°Actually, I went to that in paintball gear.¡± ¡°...Oh. Right.¡± Chapter 7 ¡°Okay¡­¡± Omet looked around at the other four, once again gathered in Quet¡¯s room. ¡°This is our official Doing Things Day. We can see how much we¡¯ll end up doing tomorrow once tomorrow is a thing. In terms of all our assigned tasks, I expect us all back home by sundown tonight. Or¡­ Okay, four PM this evening. Let¡¯s not use the sun. So the preparations should be done in the next¡­¡± They leaned forward and checked the clock on the wall. ¡°...Ten hours. Same applies to everyone else. I¡¯ll borrow someone¡¯s watch before I leave.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be less if it turns out we don¡¯t have enough time for that,¡± said Mark, ¡°right?¡± ¡°Y¡­¡± Omet lifted a finger at Mark. ¡°...Yes. The schedule¡¯s flexible, if you and Waia find anything out. So, ideally we all finish before seven. Let¡¯s call that the final deadline. Preferably before that, definitely not after that. We got all that?¡± The rest of the group nodded and/or gave thumbs up. ¡°Great. You all know the plan, let¡¯s get moving. Quet, you¡¯re with me and Horan.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Quet followed the two as everyone left her room. She pulled a stone out of her pocket. ¡°I was indeed able to recreate the activation matrix for the portal. Took some jimmying around, as is expected when you¡¯re dealing with someone else¡¯s language, but the replacement should bring the portal back up to full operational capacity. If not, I¡¯m gonna need more hair.¡± ¡°Okay, c¨C¡± Horan slapped both hands across his face and had to be guided around a corner by Omet. ¡°I didn¡¯t visit Dad! Oh, he¡¯s gonna hate me now! It¡¯s been three months! Closer to four, actually!¡± He buried his face in the crook of his elbow. ¡°Mmf¡­¡± Omet hesitantly patted him on the back as they pulled him through hallways. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like you had a choice in the matter. I¡¯m sure Lamius will accept ¡®the portal key caught fire and was thrown off a roof¡¯ as an excuse.¡± ¡°I could¡¯ve told Quet to prioritize fixing the portal,¡± muttered Horan. ¡°Yeah,¡± agreed Quet, ¡°crunch-time stress made this take me something like two hours. Most of the work was already done, but y¡¯know.¡± ¡°Th¡­ Yes, okay, that¡¯s true,¡± said Omet, as the three reached the portal room. ¡°But there¡¯s no fixing that now, and we¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about now. You can apologize on the way.¡± They split in two, and the yellow-eyed version stepped towards the middle of the room. ¡°I flipped a coin with myself this morning. Purple¡¯s gonna be staying here.¡± The purple Omet saluted. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, comrade. We¡¯ll all be mourning for you here.¡± ¡°You got lucky, don¡¯t rub it in!¡± Horan released his face and stood next to the yellow Omet. ¡°Okay, well¡­ Yeah. Let¡¯s do this.¡± Quet placed the stone in the circle of minute glyphs on the floor, and a circle of foggy green light erupted out of empty air. ¡°This portal will remain viable for twelve, maybe thirteen hours, so you can come back through from the same place you came out from. Head on through, you one-and-a-half.¡± She high-fived the Omet next to her. ¡°Safe travels, good luck, whole package. We¡¯ll be here waiting for you, unless we¡¯re all dead by then. Ideally the first option.¡± The yellow Omet blew out their cheeks. ¡°Yup, that¡¯s¡­ Let¡¯s stop talking and go.¡± ¡°Good plan,¡± said Quet and Horan simultaneously. - Mark polished off the tinfoil-wrapped breakfast burrito that had been stacked up among others on the table on his way out. When he went through the doors, he was surprised to find Waia sitting out front. It was only then that he realized that she hadn¡¯t been present at that morning¡¯s meeting. ¡°Let me guess, not much sleep?¡± Waia turned to look at him. ¡°Nah, I managed, eventually. Just got up early. I assume. Pretty hard to tell nowadays, and this place really doesn¡¯t have a lot of clocks.¡± ¡°We mostly just use watches,¡± said Mark. Once Waia stood up, he shifted the weight of his backpack. ¡°Packed everything we need last night. Mocti¡¯s old birdwatching binoculars which he let me borrow, gas masks, extra day of rations just in case, compass, map, plenty of rope too.¡± ¡°...Rope?¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how often it comes up,¡± mumbled Mark, as the two went down the front steps and towards the direction of a highway. ¡°It¡¯s got some kind of use in basically any situation I can think of. Besides, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m gonna end up thinking to myself, ¡®man, I sure wish I didn¡¯t have any rope right now¡¯.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t wait for you to be proven right,¡± replied Waia. A few minutes later, Mark checked his compass. ¡°There¡¯s a highway about twenty minutes this way. We can hotwire a car and take the road west, towards Cuernavaca. I heard a few people mention that the ones taken by Servants went that way, and there¡¯s a pretty decent-sized scavenger hub in that direction. It¡¯s a safe bet.¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°If you say so. You¡¯re the one who knows this place.¡± ¡°Those people were exaggerating. I¡¯ve been out here four, uh¡­ no, five times. And I¡¯ve never been that far out, I stopped at the city limits last time. Hey, have you ever hotwired a car before?¡± ¡°Hundreds.¡± ¡°Great, because I¡¯m still pretty shaky on it, actually. I just stole the keys to my last car¡­¡± Mark pressed his lips together and stuffed his hands in his pockets. A while later, he looked up when he noticed the highway¡¯s guardrails. ¡°But there¡¯s actually a trick to checking which cars might still have keys in them. Especially out in the sticks, where the streets aren¡¯t picked clean as much.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. The two of them vaulted over the metal rail. Mark pointed to a minivan that seemed to have been neatly parked in the middle of the tarmac, between the major lanes. ¡°Ran out of fuel, owner put it aside before abandoning it.¡± He shifted his finger towards a congestion of cars where the road bent. ¡°Mass exodus, abandoned in favor of foot travel away from the city. Car owners really like hanging onto their keys, I assume because of force of habit.¡± He finally came to a rest on a pickup truck whose left headlight had been smashed into the opposite railing. The skid marks behind it indicated that the vehicle had been swerving severely before crashing against the railing. ¡°Bingo.¡± The two jogged over to the pickup truck. Mark continued speaking on the way over. ¡°Driver got Nabbed while at the wheel. Not perfect condition, but those are the best picks for ones with both fuel and keys in the ignition. If you just checked randomly, finding a good car is full-on needle-haystack territory, with all the people who just abandoned their rides on the road.¡± Waia arrived first and looked through the driver-side window. ¡°Color me impressed.¡± ¡°Called it.¡± Mark drew his bowie knife and stuck it down the slit the window rolled down from, struggling to unlock the door. He was, he figured, halfway through the process when he heard the passenger door open. He looked up to find Waia sitting down in the shotgun seat. ¡°Most people don¡¯t lock their doors while driving.¡± Mark leaned forward and knocked his head against the truck¡¯s roof. He stayed in that position for a moment before pulling his knife out of the slit and trying the handle. The door opened easily. Mark sighed as he entered the truck and sat behind a wheel. ¡°Been a while since I felt like that big of an idiot. In conclusion, nothing changed between now and last time I was behind the wheel. I¡¯ve even got a Primus in the passenger seat and everything. Only differences are that I have a huge knife, a magic shapeshifting gun, and I¡¯m in a different hemisphere. Call that a big circle.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± Waia leaned over and checked the dashboard. ¡°Pretty okay fuel, too. Good pick.¡± ¡°Unless having functional headlights turns out to be important.¡± ¡°Just start driving.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Mark turned the keys in the ignition a few times. Nothing but sputtering from the engine. ¡°Hey, can you actually get out and give this thing a push? Battery.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Waia got out and pulled on the cargo bed, extricating the vehicle from the dent in the railing. While she angled the truck down the road and started pushing, Mark leaned out the window while keeping the key turned. It was hard to hear himself over the sound of the engine struggling to get going. ¡°You know, when I was first trying to take Horan across the middle east, we spent our first few hours fighting with each other while a bunch of demons tried to kill us. This is a lot easier.¡± Waia was worried by how much effort she had to put into moving the car. ¡°Okay, what¡¯s your point?¡± ¡°If everything is so much less stressful this time around, why do I feel so much worse about this?¡± The engine hummed to life and the truck jolted forwards, out of Waia¡¯s grasp. She jogged back up and hopped inside. ¡°Good question. Let¡¯s get moving.¡± - ¡°So,¡± Omet mumbled to themself as they oversaw the opening stages of the decorations, ¡°this is what really being in charge feels like. Kind of the same.¡± Their reverie was interrupted by the sound of duct tape being pulled from its roll. They turned around to see Quet taping off a section of the floor, which contained a table laden with mostly empty dishes. ¡°I¡¯m just saying this now,¡± Quet called out to nobody in particular. ¡°Everything within the taped-off zones is what Horan told me to categorize as PTO: Party Time Only. I¡¯m not gonna meticulously prepare and arrange the fanciest snacks in my cookbooks just for the less patient among you to ruin the feng shui or whatever. You know who you are, you can eat it once the Indians have arrived. Any consequences at that point are yours and yours al¨C Oh, hey, Omet.¡± ¡°Hey yourself.¡± Omet crouched down next to their sister. ¡°Want me to take over the zoning? You gotta be working overtime to put that much food out, right?¡± ¡°Eh, you¡¯d be surprised how much some proper thaumaturgic knowhow can help.¡± Quet closed off the vaguely rectangular shape on the ground and stood up. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve got more important things to be doing than making sure the catering survives to the actual party.¡± Omet sighed as they looked over what little Quet had already laid out. ¡°C¡¯mon, being in charge isn¡¯t just management. You just gotta offer up some advice now and then and people do everything themselves, it¡¯s not like I know anything that you people don¡¯t. Hurat didn¡¯t exactly bother to give us any tips on how he did things, it never really seemed like he was overthinking things. Might¡¯ve just been experience guiding him, though, I dunno.¡± Quet slid over to the kitchen. Omet looked down and noticed that her shoes appeared to have wheels built into them. Quet checked on how the five separate dishes on the stove were cooking. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got a couple months more experience than me, I guess. But yeah, I get what you¡¯re saying, I would¡¯ve been doing the food anyway. I don¡¯t need to worry about anything else, and the professionals in other fields don¡¯t need to worry about this. That¡¯s how I like it, really. Got my own little corner of Quet stuff.¡± ¡°I really wouldn¡¯t call any of us a ¡®professional¡¯ at anything. You¡¯re probably the exception, Miss College Education.¡± Quet blushed and chuckled while she reached for a pair of oven mitts. ¡°Linguistics aren¡¯t exactly pertinent right now, but I get your point. I¡¯ve tried to cover my bases to help everywhere else where I can. I set out a bunch of labeled glyph-rocks on the coffee table over there, for any decoration utility I could think of.¡± Omet looked at the coffee table in the lounge area and noticed that the bowl of useless black glass pebbles had been replaced with a bowl of stones with notes taped to them. ¡°...How long did those take you?¡± ¡°Most of the night. Would have taken longer if I hadn¡¯t dug into my existing supply. But I learned my lesson from February and did some math beforehand. I managed to get exactly four hours of sleep last night.¡± Quet used a pair of barbecue tongs to extract a stick of garlic bread from the oven like a blacksmith removing a sword from a forge. ¡°And I¡¯d say it¡¯s paying off beautifully.¡± ¡°I¨C Is there some part of this process that you¡¯re basing off of February?!¡± Omet leaned over towards Quet. ¡°I feel like that was very different to what we¡¯re dealing with right now!¡± ¡°Oh, y¡¯know.¡± Quet laid the bread on a sheet of tinfoil and began to wrap it up. ¡°A crisis is a crisis. At least I know how much sleep I need to coherently function. But considering how February turned out, I guess I should¡¯ve slept even less!¡± She gave a forced-sounding laugh, looked up to see that Omet¡¯s expression was no less concerned, then looked back down at the wrapped garlic bread. ¡°...Ha... Okay, not the most inspiring thing to say, but don¡¯t look at me like that, you¡¯ll bring the mood down for real. I know I¡¯m not in charge, but for the next 24 hours, I will be doing my best to enforce a strict ¡®no bummers¡¯ policy in this house.¡± She pointed to a sign hung from a nail on the wall, which depicted a crossed-out raincloud with a frowny face. ¡°I woke up prepared for everything.¡± Omet decided to help with the distribution of Quet¡¯s completed food, placing the garlic bread on a nearby plate and picking the plate up. ¡°Maybe you can just have an early night tonight. I don¡¯t think everything¡¯s gonna fall apart without you once the Indians arrive. I won¡¯t make you deal with the crowd.¡± Quet gasped, clasped her hands together and brought them up to her chin. ¡°Promise?!¡± Chapter 8 Horan helped Omet up and looked up the small hiking trail at his father¡¯s house. ¡°Well¡­ This is gonna suck.¡± Omet bent over and breathed heavily. ¡°What, do you wanna sneak in and see if you can operate the dimensional portal manually? Do you think that¡¯s less hassle than just saying hi?¡± Horan groaned. ¡°Alright, fine. But keep in mind that I¡¯m not happy about it.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why we¡¯re still out here. You can calm yourself down on the way up, just tell me if you need a little more time to psych yourself up. I wouldn¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve met your dad twice, but he doesn¡¯t seem the type to hold a grudge against family.¡± Horan simply grumbled the whole way up the mountain. At the door, Horan gave the knocker a single thump against the wood, waited two seconds, and turned around. ¡°Nope, I¡¯m not doing it. You start for me.¡± Omet blocked him off. ¡°Don¡¯t make me be that kind of friend.¡± Horan tried to move to the side. Omet moved to keep blocking him. He decided to just fly over. He made it as far as lifting a foot off the ground before Omet spoke up. ¡°I know that you know that the longer you put this off, the worse it¡¯s gonna get..¡± Horan groaned and drifted back down. ¡°I hate you.¡± ¡°Say whatever you want.¡± Omet spun Horan around to face the door in question. ¡°As long as you face your fear. Head on. The last thing the metaphorical shadow monsters expect is for you to stand up straight and call them a bunch of wusses.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying my best.¡± Omet patted Horan on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m right next to you, you got this.¡± The door was slowly pulled open, revealing Lamius¡¯ slightly haggard face. He froze partway through opening the door, just wide enough for someone to pass through. Horan cringed, Omet¡¯s hands on his shoulders. ¡°...Hi, Dad¡­¡± Lamius remained in place. ¡°Fun fact, did you know that the time between your last visit and now is almost the exact same length the time between that visit and the one during that business with Thel?¡± Horan put his hands behind his back and nodded sheepishly, his face still contorting into a wrinkled mask of shame. ¡°Then you must be just as excited to be here!¡± Lamius came in for a hug. While the father and son embraced, Omet stepped around and looked at Horan as they walked backwards into the house. ¡°Told you. Most people don¡¯t absolutely suck.¡± Lamius finally let go. Horan was secretly relieved that he didn¡¯t need to keep touching his impressively cold wooden hand. Lamius shuffled back inside. ¡°Come, come. So, did you manage to move in with the Aztecs properly?¡± ¡°Yeah, actually.¡± Horan walked alongside his father, but maintained a slight distance. ¡°That¡¯s been pretty nice, at least compared to how things were going before. Omet¡¯s in charge now.¡± Omet waved from down the hall. ¡°Hi.¡± ¡°Right, yes, I remember you from last time. Must have misremembered your eyes.¡± Lamius approached Omet and shook their hand. ¡°Is everything alright on your end?¡± ¡°Well, it used to be, until very recently.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Lamius gestured towards the garden. ¡°Well, why don¡¯t we sit down and discuss it?¡± Omet lit up. ¡°Sure, we can spare thirty minutes or so! It shouldn¡¯t be too much of a hassle to take a quick pit stop, you can play catch-up with each other, and I can¨C¡± ¡°Actually, we probably can¡¯t.¡± Horan stood by Omet¡¯s side. ¡°See, uh, well, long story short, there¡¯s this apocalypse cult going around, threatening us. We don¡¯t even know how little time we have. The humans are getting testy, you know how it is.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°I really don¡¯t,¡± said Lamius, ¡°but that sounds awful.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯re just trying to nip the issue in the bud before we all die.¡± Horan continued down the hall, towards where he knew the portal room was, before stopping and turning back to Lamius. ¡°Omet and I are heading over to India to go ask them for help with the cult stuff, so I¡¯m super super sorry, but we really can¡¯t stay. I mean, we got the magic portal stuff working now, so, uh, we¨C I, I can visit more often, but right now, we¨C¡± Omet looked between Horan and Lamius. ¡°Well, things are kind of stressful for us right now, like Horan said, and I¡¯m probably just saying this for the sake of stalling, but¡­ Is it worrying to say that we shouldn¡¯t be banking on being able to visit you later? I¨C I don¡¯t want to be a pessimist, but while we¡¯re already here¡­¡± Lamius followed the two of them after a short delay. ¡°This seems like a lot for you both. Are you just getting the Indians for this? Or do you have other people working on more Domains.¡± Omet pursed their lips. ¡°Yeah, about that¡­ As it turns out, our place, the Indians, and you are apparently the only real holdout of immortal Primoi left around. Between humanity slowly getting finished off and Primoi doing an impressively good job of wiping each other out this last year or so, we really don¡¯t have many options.¡± Horan nodded nervously. ¡°We checked. We¡¯ve all been dropping like flies up there, and the humans decided that now would be a good time to finish the job.¡± ¡°Our current plan gives us around nine and a half hours to get the Indians on side and come home,¡± agreed Omet. ¡°All in all, not a fun time for any of us.¡± Lamius said nothing for a moment. ¡°...So, in the last nine or so months, you¡¯ve had to deal with your uncle trying to conquer the planet, a mute lunatic trying to kill everyone on the planet, and the inhabitants of said planet trying to kill you back?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± said Horan, ¡°those are the highlights so far.¡± ¡°...Why couldn¡¯t things be this interesting when I was up there?¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°In my own experience, I¡¯m starting to see why it used to be an insult to tell someone you hope they live through interesting times. It¡¯s been a long three years. Hence why I say we take twenty while we can.¡± Horan nodded. ¡°It¡¯s just one of those decades. I hoped we¡¯d all left them back in the last century.¡± ¡°Well, I¡­¡± Lamius raised his arms slightly and let them fall back to his side. ¡°I wish I could help more. It¡¯s times like this where I wish more than ever that I could come up there and help with all this. Every time I think I¡¯ve completely made peace with living here, something comes along to prove me wrong. So¡­ I¡¯m sorry taking you to India is the best I can do.¡± ¡°Hey, uh¡­¡± Horan had no idea what to do with his hands. ¡°We¡¯ve¡­ probably got this. What can a few humans do against four Domains, am I right?¡± He nudged Omet. ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Omet nodded. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t¡­ think we¡¯re going to spend a long time worrying about all this. The Indians are probably gonna be a one-time thing, anyway. Hey, can we go to the portal room now?¡± ¡°Oh, right, yes.¡± Lamius continued walking. ¡°Sorry about taking up all that time, I know that one old man isn¡¯t worth risking all this, I can wait for Horan to come back once he has the time. I¡¯m just worried a little. Seems I spend a lot of time worrying about what¡¯s going on around me lately¡­¡± He perked up. ¡°Oh, wait! I¡¯ve got something! Don¡¯t go anywhere!¡± He shuffled his way around a corner and out of sight. Once they figured he was out of earshot, Omet nudged Horan back. ¡°So, is the leaving-out of the fact that the cult is big enough to probably be responsible for most of these deaths supposed to be on purpose?¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re not exactly making that little omission easy,¡± replied Horan. ¡°Great on-the-spot work there, dude.¡± ¡°Hey, white lies are hard when you can¡¯t say a single false word! It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve got five millennia of experience with any of this!¡± ¡°Then you¡¯d better catch up quick. That¡¯s step one of the Breezy Slide.¡± Omet groaned softly. ¡°This can¡¯t possibly be this complicated.¡± ¡°No, it really is.¡± Lamius returned a few moments later with a pair of stones in one hand. ¡°I bought these a few months ago from some traders, since I figured something like this would happen.¡± He handed one to Horan. ¡°They told me that if both of them are activated at the same time, we can talk to each other through them! They¡¯re like those human ¡®telegraph¡¯ things I¡¯ve heard about!¡± Horan turned the pea-sized orb in his fingers, examining the tiny carvings along its surface. ¡°...Well, it¡¯s definitely simpler than me heading down here every time we want to chat.¡± ¡°Right, I thought the same thing.¡± Lamius held up his own stone, identical to Horan¡¯s. ¡°How about we call each other at two in the afternoon every day, on the dot?¡± ¡°Two in the afternoon, which timezone?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ Your time? What time is it in Mexico right now?¡± Horan glanced back at Omet, who checked their watch. ¡°...6:54 AM.¡± Lamius nodded in response to the answer. ¡°Okay, so¡­ Seven hours from now. That¡¯s fine, it¡¯s right before I usually go to bed.¡± ¡°Alright, that¡¯s great. I¡¯ll keep it in mind.¡± Horan put the stone in his back pocket. ¡°But we really should go to India now.¡± ¡°Right, of course.¡± Lamius jerked back into motion. ¡°That¡¯s everything taken care of, you two can go now.¡± Chapter 9 Mark took things pretty slow on the road, carefully avoiding abandoned vehicles and never going above sixty miles per hour on the open stretches. Despite that, it only took them half an hour to start seeing signs that read ¡®Cuernavaca¡¯. Waia squinted and pulled the map close. ¡°The fastest route to the city center is to the left. You said that the path you were taking would be faster.¡± ¡°Less cars this way. We¡¯ll go a lot slower if we crash.¡± ¡°Not by much.¡± Waia leaned into the back of her seat. ¡°We¡¯ve already burnt a lot of dayli¡­¡± She looked up at the clouds of ash covering the sky. ¡°We¡¯ve already used up a lot of time, and we¡¯re gonna use more on our way back. I figured we would¡¯ve been done first.¡± Mark shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. ¡°Turns out, forty-five miles looks a lot smaller on a map. We can probably go in a straighter line on our way back. This thing looks like it can handle a little all-terrain.¡± He patted the steering wheel. ¡°Enough to get us home, at least.¡± Waia squinted at the map again. When the best map of the area that one could find covered the entire state, one really had to work to pick out roads. ¡°Well, we should be seeing signs of life soon. You know what to look out for?¡± ¡°Military hardware and gas masks? I¡¯m familiar.¡± Mark shuddered. Waia put the map away and looked at the slowly growing skyline ahead. ¡°Feels like that might be a bit too wide of a net with that description, with what the world looks like these days.¡± ¡°Meh, unless they don¡¯t want to be noticed, cults are pretty easy to notice.¡± ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t speaking from experience.¡± Waia realized that she may not want a definitive answer to that question. ¡°You think the one in charge is gonna be here?¡± Mark shrugged again. ¡°I know as much as you do. Just in case, what do they look like?¡± ¡°Like a LARPer. Unless the Servants turn out to be way, way worse than I think they are, you¡¯ll know them when you see them.¡± ¡°Good to know, because I just spotted them.¡± Waia bolted upright. ¡°You see the l¨C?!¡± ¡°Servants, I mean.¡± Mark held up a single hand and waved Waia back down. ¡°Should¡¯ve worded that better. One 0¡¯clock.¡± Waia peered through the windshield. After a moment, she noticed what Mark was talking about. Two Servants were sitting inside an empty truck, their gas masks visible through the scratched glass. One of the Servants opened a door and climbed out of the truck, a battered pump-action shotgun dangling in one hand. Waia gripped the handle of the passenger-side door. ¡°You ram the easy target, I get out and take out the one still in the truck?¡± ¡°An option. Or¡­¡± Mark turned the car and stopped, so that his side of the car faced the Servants. ¡°Morning. This Cuernavaca?¡± Any kind of emotion was nigh-impossible to glean from the Servant¡¯s covered face, but a slight twitch upon Mark¡¯s speaking indicated surprise. Their muffled voice indicated little else. When they spoke, only Waia was able to understand. ¡°You new around here?¡± Mark held back a groan. He really needed to learn Spanish at some point. Waia leaned over Mark¡¯s lap and looked up at the Servant. ¡°Yeah, something like that.¡± ¡°Well, you aren¡¯t the only ones these days. You with the Servants?¡± Waia shook her head and patted Mark on the shoulder. ¡°Not just yet. Do we need to do something to be let in and look around, or¡­?¡± ¡°Oh, no, go on through.¡± The Servant stepped aside. ¡°We¡¯re just here to stop thieves from leaving. We¡¯ll never stop someone from joining.¡± ¡°Great, thanks.¡± Mark turned back onto the road and kept driving. Once he figured he was out of earshot, he nudged Waia. ¡°Thanks for helping out. Maybe you do the talking from here on out.¡± Waia grunted ¡°Better than you playing charades whenever you want to ask a question. But what I wanna know is why we should be talking to these people at all. Those two are just gonna be a problem later on, we should¡¯ve just dealt with them while they were alone.¡± ¡°This is a reconnaissance mission, Waia.¡± Mark once again refused to take his eyes off of the road. ¡°The whole point is for the enemy to not be aware of how much we know. The best possible outcome for us is to collect as much intel as we can and leave without the Servants ever knowing we¡¯re here. So keep as low of a profile as you can, and only use your crazy lava powers if you think your cover is already blown. You got all that?¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Break into the evil cultist base, confirm the base has evil cultists in it, leave. Doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯m missing anything.¡± Mark sighed. ¡°Nope, that¡¯s everything.¡± ¡°What a productive way to spend our day. Wait, I can lie if I¡¯m being blatantly sarcastic? How does this work?!¡± The first few signs of life beyond the guard post were surprisingly easy to spot. Aside from the fact that around a quarter of the people on the streets had the standard full-body coverings, Cuernavaca looked like a remarkably normal city, albeit a poorly-maintained one. Waia¡¯s rant trailed off when she looked out the window at the sights around her. Several buildings were actually in the process of being repaired, with trucks and porters bringing in materials that looked like they had been scavenged from other parts of the city. A few houses had even been given fresh coats of paint. She looked at a cluster of tents that had been pitched in a supermarket¡¯s parking lot. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like much of a military base¡­¡± Mark nodded. ¡°You can¡¯t form a full supply chain without civilian support. Plus, did you really think there was a gun for every member of the global paramilitary?¡± ¡°That just means they¡¯ve been growing faster than they¡¯ve been scavenging.¡± Waia saw a few fixed-up houses that wouldn¡¯t look out of place back in Hawaii. She looked away from the window view. ¡°These people are genocidal. You don¡¯t attract middle-class white-picket families with offers to wipe out the supernatural.¡± ¡°The middle class stopped existing roughly three and a half years ago.¡± At that, Waia stopped talking. Mark noticed someone waving at them on the sidewalk, leaning slightly onto the road and gesturing for them to stop. Mark pulled over next to them, rolling down his window. ¡°Uh, h¨Chey?¡± He nudged Waia with his foot. Before Waia could say anything on Mark¡¯s behalf, the stranger spoke up in perfect English. ¡°Hi, I just figured you were new around these parts. You look new.¡± Mark gave Waia a quick look, partially confused, mostly stern. He looked back at the stranger. ¡°Got it in one. Do you get a lot of new people coming here?¡± The stranger shrugged and leaned through the window. ¡°Well, what¡¯s not to love? The Servants are humanity¡¯s best shot at fixing itself, plus we¡¯ve got thousands of people out there getting rid of the things that broke us in the first place! What¡¯s not to love?¡± They made a show of looking over their shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s mostly the promise of people scrounging up food on your behalf, but everyone just pretends like that¡¯s a side thing.¡± ¡°Right, yes.¡± Waia gave an awkward wave from the other side of the car. ¡°Which is, uh, which is why we¡¯re checking you out. Mark here thinks joining is a good idea.¡± The stranger smirked. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve picked a good time to join. Torch is gonna be arriving in an hour or three, and they¡¯re pretty much definitely gonna want to take a look at the latest few recruits. And unless we get a busful of refugees in twenty minutes, you¡¯ll probably be included in that list. Might even get to be Chosen if you¡¯re lucky.¡± Mark was about ask what exactly one might be chosen for when Waia pushed him into his seat and looked the stranger dead in the eye. ¡°Who¡¯s Torch?¡± ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± The stranger waved dismissively at Waia. ¡°Leader of this whole operation. Cloak, mask, sword, can¡¯t miss ¡®em.¡± Mark struggled past the arm pinning him to his seat. ¡°Okay, and¨C¡± Waia pushed him back down. ¡°And they¡¯re coming in a few hours?¡± The stranger nodded. ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°Today?¡± ¡°Last I checked, that¡¯s what¡¯s implied by ¡®a few hours from now¡¯.¡± Waia wordlessly leaned back into her half of the car. Mark decided not to push his luck. ¡°So, where do we go to sign up around here?¡± The stranger chuckled. ¡°Nah, c¡¯mon. You think we¡¯re the type to have some hand-slice-y initiation ritual? If you wanna help out, go on ahead. All humans are welcome, it would kinda defeat the purpose if we gatekept.¡± ¡°¡®Kay, thanks, bye.¡± Mark rolled up the window and left as fast as he figured he could get away with without getting suspicious. Esparza folded their arms and watched the pickup truck head down the road. ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re doing great. You can go ahead.¡± - Mark looked away from the rear view mirror. The stranger appeared to be speaking, but didn¡¯t seem to be doing so to anyone in particular. He shot Waia a brief glare. ¡°Wow, great job at keeping a low profile. Exactly what I had in mind.¡± ¡°Can it.¡± Waia leaned forward onto the dashboard deep in thought. ¡°We¡¯ve got a name. Unless¡­ No, that¡¯s the one. This Torch is the one who led the attack on Hawaii. And they¡¯ll be here before seven.¡± Mark gripped the steering wheel. ¡°Waia, we¡¯re in the middle of a city that houses thousands of Torch¡¯s followers. Do not.¡± ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not saying we just walk up to them and punch them!¡± Waia glanced at the metallic rolling-pin shaped object tucked into Mark¡¯s pants. ¡°I¡¯m just pointing out that taking them out will seriously hurt the Servants. Maybe get rid of them entirely. It worked for this one Ali¡¯i who crossed me a few centuries ago, it¡¯ll work for the apocalypse cult.¡± ¡°Oh yeah? And how¡¯d it go with that guy?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Waia glanced out the window. ¡°I did end up running from half of Ni¡¯ihau and spent two weeks hiding in a cave.¡± ¡°Exactly. High-profile assassinations take weeks of intel gathering and teams of experienced covert operatives. If you want to make it out alive, that is.¡± Mark stopped next to a building with a sign out front that he was pretty sure read ¡®available rooms¡¯. If not that, close enough. He got out of the truck. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re as far from ¡®stealthy¡¯ as I¡¯m pretty sure you can get.¡± Waia followed him out. ¡°Maybe, but you can¡¯t say my last attempt was a failure. What¡¯s up over here?¡± ¡°From the looks of it, people.¡± Mark gestured for Waia to follow. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we can find out before Torch shows up. And remember: You do the talking.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± Waia stood next to him. ¡°I know what the rules are. The deciding factor of whether or not I follow them is how much I care.¡± ¡°I figure that¡¯s as good as I¡¯m gonna get.¡± Waia went for the building¡¯s door first. ¡°Yup.¡± Chapter 10 With the two Domains being split up into several teams, each dedicated to properly furnishing their own section of the pyramidal complex, things were progressing quickly. That did not mean that they were progressing consistently, however. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s just¡­¡± Omet slapped their cheeks absent-mindedly. ¡°This is probably supposed to be a big decision, so¡­ What do you guys think are the pros and cons here? With each one?¡± One of their brothers held up a length of frayed lace. ¡°Con to the ¡®classy¡¯ style: We need to scrounge around our resident hoarder¡¯s stashes for anything that even vaguely fits the aesthetic.¡± Saralai pushed past Omet and ripped the lace out of the Aztec¡¯s hand, wincing slightly at the resulting ripping sound. ¡°Pro to us going for ¡®classy¡¯, we won¡¯t look like a bunch of homeless people! Very high standards have been set by pretty much every Old World Domain¨C¡± She pointed to the assortment of other loose decorations that had been gathered, most of which consisted of old stage props¨C ¡°and a human child¡¯s birthday party don¡¯t meet them!¡± A nearby Greek cleared their throat. ¡°You¡¯re yelling again.¡± Saralai sighed, closed her eyes, tucked a stray lock of hair back into place and looked around at the gathered Aztecs. ¡°Point is, laziness is a visible thing. You can¡¯t possibly have nothing for dedicated decorations stashed away, right? I know you people aren¡¯t the type to bring other Domains over to play catch-up, but you aren¡¯t a bunch of hermits.¡± Omet shrugged and shook their head. ¡°Nobody in the Americas ever really managed to set up a decent Down Below portal network, and¨C¡± Quet raised a hand from behind Omet. ¡°The Cree did.¡± ¡°...Yeah, okay, but they were an outlier. We¡¯ve been the only Domain for hundreds of kilometers since the Mayans died out a century or two ago, and that one pan-North American get-together that the Haudenosaunee used to organize every few decades hasn¡¯t been a thing for even longer, so¡­¡± Omet looked out the floor. ¡°...Wow, there haven¡¯t been many of us for a while, huh? We only really headed out to meet up with you guys because it had been a few years since we spoke to anyone who we weren¡¯t related to.¡± Saralai facepalmed. ¡°I get your point, sure. Okay, just¡­ We need to make this place look like we have a budget.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t, though.¡± ¡°I said make it look that way!¡± Saralai took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. Sorry. Pretend you¡¯re trying to make, uh¡­ Okay, work with what we have, a classic fallback. How do you guys think you could rearrange this whole sort of¡­¡± She waved at nothing in particular. ¡°...house, I guess¡­ if you wanted to take the Indians on a tour of the place and convince them to buy it? If you can¡¯t make it fancy, make it pristine.¡± The Aztec that Saralai had taken the shredded lace from shrugged. ¡°Guess it¡¯s better than scrounging. That¡¯s a good word.¡± ¡°Quiet.¡± Saralai turned and left, dragging her hand along the side of her face. ¡°I¡¯m turning into Horan¡­¡± Once Saralai was gone and everyone else was continuing their work with a better sense of purpose, Quet cleared her throat to get Omet to turn around. ¡°Hey, I just came over to tell you that I¡¯m finished with the food stuff. Also, speaking of Horan, uh, just out of curiosity, what¡¯s the dress code going to look like?¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Omet stiffened in an instant, but didn¡¯t attempt to speak. Quet looked away nervously. ¡°I¡­ Are you okay? Is there something here that I should be worrying about?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s¡­¡± Omet absent-mindedly worried at the hem of their cardigan. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t a fan of unexpectedly not-fun conversations, but how much do you think Horan¨C and Saralai, I guess¨C have the right idea about how to do all this?¡± Quet stared at them blankly. ¡°Right, okay, going back.¡± Omet took a little bit too long to mull their words over. ¡°I don¡¯t really like talking about other people behind their back like this, but I don¡¯t really think Horan is looking at this from the right angle. We¡¯re putting all this work in to ¡®impress¡¯ the Indians, who are under the same threat of death as the rest of us. Old Worlders are weird, I know, but I¡¯m under the impression that either they¡¯ll say yes right away, or they aren¡¯t joining us. This isn¡¯t really something that you negotiate.¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve learned to just go with things. It¡¯s like you said a couple hours ago, very few of us are experts at anything.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­ I might need to go back a little further actually. Remember when we tried to celebrate Horan¡¯s birthday, back in March?¡± ¡°You mean the time where I turned his sticker book into a starter glyph set? Or was this a different thing that I missed out on and I just misunderstood everything the first time?¡± ¡°...What?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a precedent for it.¡± Omet sighed and rubbed the back of their neck. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think I was very heavy on the details when I asked you to make something for him. But you¡¯re thinking of the right one.¡± Quet shook her head. ¡°There were so many clues that a stunt like that wouldn¡¯t have worked, we should¡¯ve picked up on them way before we made any progress.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t really call a party for him to be quite as doomed as you think it is, it¡¯s not like Horan is the type to be naturally inclined to blow us off like that.¡± Quet raised a hand. ¡°Question: You were the one who organized that, was it meant to be a surprise party? Follow-up question: If so, did you actually tell him to be at the right place at the right time?¡± Omet sighed. ¡°Yeah, I¨C I did, none of us really wanted to be all secretive towards a new housemate, but he was generally the one avoiding talking about it with us, like it made him uncomfortable.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll trust you that that was a reasonable inference.¡± ¡°I did also ask him about it later,¡± said Omet, ¡°so that also helped the people who were still around come to a conclusion. He asked me to promise not to bring up what we talked about in his room, so I can¡¯t really explain why I think he isn¡¯t making the healthiest reasonings right now, but my bottom line is that I think he could do with a show of support when we all have the time. Knowing what seeing him in the presence of a Domain like the Indians is like, I¡¯m sure Yellow came up with the same plan a while ago.¡± ¡°Something low-key, though,¡± agreed Quet. ¡°Oh yeah, absolutely. The guy deserves something less flashy than a party just for him.¡± ¡°Fast consensus, always a fan.¡± ¡°Always a fan indeed.¡± An Aztec tapped Omet on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, purple Omet, you mind helping us to duplicate some tables? Teca remembered that you can just sort of let us double up on furniture, and we need a platform for the band.¡± Omet turned to face their sibling and lit up. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re so right! Bring me over right now, I can¡¯t believe I didn¡¯t think of this earlier. No need to distinguish which Omet I am when the other me isn¡¯t around, by the way. I¡¯m not a clone.¡± Chapter 11 Horan and Omet were teleported into the middle of an open field, and immediately wished they hadn¡¯t been. The grass was covered with bodies, with dozens if not hundreds of dead Servants lying strewn across acres of open land. It was like a pack of wild animals had been unleashed upon them. Many were ripped to pieces, others smashed into the dirt, yet more riddled with puncture wounds. Given the orientation of a lot of the corpses, it seemed like just as many had died running away from the Indians¡¯ home than towards it. The bodies had evidently been lying there for several weeks, as many had been picked apart post-mortem by animals, and pretty much all of them were quite decently rotted. While Horan was recovering from the teleportation and trying not to vomit at the sight (and smell) of a particularly gruesome kill a few feet away from him, Omet looked ahead at the squat but impressively broad castle in the middle of the field. ¡°Let¡¯s hope the Servants shot first, right?¡± Horan pulled his eyepatch over his one functioning eye. ¡°Nope¡­ Don¡¯t¡­ Don¡¯t wanna think about that right now. I need an extra minute to lie down... And I also want to get inside as fast as I can. Preferably both at the same time.¡± Omet looked over at their currently blind friend. ¡°I just try to keep a blind spot over the ground and look over all the dead stuff. Also, breathe through your mouth. Definitely do that.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better.¡± While Horan shakily got to his feet, he twirled his hand in the air. His shoulder-length hair began to whip around as though there was a strong breeze, and the dust particulate in the air around his head was suddenly blasted away from him. ¡°Smells are a surprisingly small problem when you can just push them out of the air. Now I just need to figure out how to cross the field while blind.¡± Omet sighed and took his hand in theirs. ¡°Pretend you¡¯re a balloon, I¡¯ll walk us through it.¡± ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± Horan sheepishly floated up until he was seven feet off the ground, making Omet hold their arm parallel to their head. ¡°...Thanks.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Omet began to carefully tread over the bodies. ¡°Man, I wish I had a power that¡¯s actually as useful as yours. Mine sucks.¡± ¡°Last time I checked,¡± said Horan, ¡°we would both be dead if you didn¡¯t have your exact set of abilities.¡± ¡°Right, because separating soul boosters from a megalomaniacal mass-murderer is something that totally comes up all the time.¡± Omet stepped around something that they couldn¡¯t even vaguely identify in spite of their impressive knowledge of global fauna, which concerned them, but they didn¡¯t feel like derailing the conversation. Also, Horan may have wanted to look and could end up throwing up on Omet¡¯s face. ¡°...Of course there¡¯s going to be a use for what I can do, but niche stuff is always gonna be useless, especially when I¡¯m limited to splitting stuff exclusively in two. But hey, I guess being in two places at once is coming in handy right now, so I suppose it¡¯s actually a lot less niche now that I need to be in charge of things.¡± Horan¡¯s grip on Omet¡¯s hand relaxed. ¡°...So, are you or aren¡¯t you disappointed by your powers?¡± ¡°Good question. You can come down now.¡± Horan came back to earth and moved his eyepatch back over to the side of his face that needed it. Apparently, the density of corpses petered out with proximity to the castle, with the grass remaining functionally spotless about a hundred feet from the front gate. ¡°Awesome. All I need to do now is not look behind me¡­ That¡¯s actually weirdly hard right now?¡± ¡°Yeah, I feel that.¡± Omet stared at the imposing wooden gate that seemed to be the castle¡¯s sole entrance, shrugged, and knocked as hard as they could without bruising their fingers. The sound produced was pathetic. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to use the ring.¡± Omet glanced at the cast-iron knocker set into the door. ¡°Oh right, that¡¯s what those are for.¡± They grabbed the ring and lifted it away from the door before Horan grabbed their arm. ¡°Actually, uh, maybe we should just do a super quick last-minute crash course on, um, basic etiquette, right?¡± Omet let go of the knocker, which had its impact against the door softened by a desperate cushion of air from Horan. Omet cringed slightly at the sight. ¡°Sorry. But when you say ¡®crash course¡¯, is this an impromptu class, or¡­?¡± ¡°Just¡­ Thirty seconds. In and out.¡± Horan closed his eye and took a deep breath. ¡°I know you don¡¯t really want to do this, because of the whole bending-over-backwards-to-please-strangers-who-might-not-even-give-you-anything-in-return-if-they-don¡¯t-feel-like-it thing¨C¡± He gasped for air. ¡°¨Cbut the only way we can get in their good books is by playing by their rules, so¡­ The faster we can get the Indians to at least play along, the better. Keep things quick, act like someone who¡¯s easy to deal with, and the faster we can start to just coast through, the better for both of us. I know, I know you would rather do anything else, but can you work with me on this, just this once?¡± Omet shook their head and sighed. ¡°Sure thing. At least neither of us want to prolong this too bad.¡± ¡°Great. Thanks. You¡¯ll probably have to take the lead, but I¡¯ll feed you what you have to do when I can.¡± Horan waved his hand and the knocker was pushed away from the door, landing back into place with a loud thud. Omet stepped back and stared at the door. ¡°...So, do we just wait now?¡± ¡°Of course, we showed up unannounced. Plus, they¡¯ll want to make us desperate, it¡¯s pretty standard procedure.¡± After a moment of silence, Horan folded his arms. ¡°Small talk, while we can get it, uh¡­ So, I wonder how Rachna¡¯s doing. It feels like it¡¯s been forever since I¡¯ve seen him. I think the last time I saw him was before that business with the Seraphium, actually, wow¡­¡± Omet looked over at Horan. ¡°Se¨C The what? Like an angel?¡± Horan snorted. ¡°Oh, right, Deus doesn¨C didn¡¯t like mentioning it. Probably because of the insufferably stupid name that we refuse to let him change. I¡¯ll tell you about that once we¡¯re inside and can hang out alone, it¡¯s just another reason why Rachna¡¯s the best. He¡¯s the exception to the rest of the Domain, you¡¯ll love him.¡± A tiny square on the otherwise pristine wall slid backwards, creating a tiny hole almost directly in front of the two Primoi outside. Whispering was just barely audible through the opening for a few minutes, then the removed rectangle of stone was pushed back into place. A moment later, the doorway slowly began to open. Omet and Horan were forced to take a few steps backward to make way for its wide arc. On the other side was an impressively tall, red-eyed Primus in a tuxedo standing regally in the middle of the doorway, staring at the two of them expectantly. ¡°Horan. And Horan¡¯s companion.¡± Horan waved and cracked the widest smile he could manage without looking insane or, worse, desperate. ¡°Kuravaan! Hi! Man, it¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it¡­? I, um, I lost an eye, that¡¯s something.¡± He patted Omet on the shoulder, then paused for a moment. ¡°...This is Omet, leader of the Aztec Domain.¡± Omet waved. ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°Introductions aside, the two of us would like to discuss a few of the more recent¡­¡± Horan tried not to think of the carnage behind him. ¡°...Issues that it seems we¡¯ve all been dealing with recently.¡± Kuravaan shrugged and turned around. ¡°Of course. We know that you could do with a figurative roof over your heads for a while, especially given what we have heard of the, ah, current state of Horan¡¯s home. You may enter.¡± He began walking back inside. Horan sighed with relief and strode after Kuravaan into a roofless hallway, pulling Omet in with him. His free hand twitched, creating whispers in Omet¡¯s ear. ¡°Okay, I can¡¯t do all of this myself, and these people are very much aware of how little power I have. You definitely gotta do the heavy lifting here, dude. No more silent treatment, got it?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Omet groaned quietly and whispered back. ¡°Fine, but you¡¯re my wingman. I neither can nor will do all this myself.¡± Horan nodded. ¡°That¡¯s the whole reason I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°And can you please let go of me?¡± Omet pulled their sleeve out of Horan¡¯s grip. ¡°I know which way to go.¡± Kuravaan looked over his shoulder. ¡°Everything alright back there?¡± Horan cracked another smile. ¡°No complaints here.¡± ¡°Excellent.¡± Kuravaan smirked and looked back ahead. ¡°So sorry for the mess outside, by the way, but we Indians do what we must to keep our loved ones safe. Pretend it¡¯s not there, we¡¯ll move all that to the side when we can.¡± Their conversation halted, Omet and Horan looked around at their new surroundings. Kuravaan had brought them through a hallway into a courtyard, surrounded by painted and plant-covered walls. Compared to the bloodshed outside, the interior of the castle was immaculate. The fountains were almost excessive in their frequency, golden ribbons hung from lines crossing between walls, lights were buried in the sides of the footpaths, and likely more that the two simply failed to notice. It was like the outside section of a restaurant that middle-class humans went to to feel rich. While they and Horan were being led through the courtyard, Omet decided to start explaining the situation to their host. ¡°So, Mis¨C Mister, uh, Kuravaan, we¡¯re here b¨C¡± They blinked from a gust of wind blowing across their face. ¡°Uh, never mind.¡± They glanced at Horan, confused. Horan shook his head. ¡°Not yet, don¡¯t look too desperate to get to the point. If you look like you think that you can¡¯t manage things by yourself, they might not see us as worth the investment.¡± ¡°Alright, but he totally heard me.¡± Horan sighed. ¡°Yeah¡­ Just try to pretend like this is a one-time screwup, we can try to ignore it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, I guess.¡± Horan sighed. ¡°We should¡¯ve gotten you something nice to wear.¡± Kuravaan led the two of them through one of the courtyard¡¯s other entrances, bringing them into an airy sitting room. Similar courtyards could be seen through the room¡¯s windows. Kuravaan gestured for them to take a seat on two padded chairs situated on one side of the coffee table, both of which turned out to be even more comfortable than they looked. Kuravaan, meanwhile, remained standing. ¡°Sorry again, it must have been quite unpleasant to have to go through something as grisly as that. But as we¡¯ve heard, the Aztecs and, er, associates, have been having the same problem?¡± Horan sat for a moment in silence, then tapped Omet¡¯s arm. Omet started. ¡°Uh, yeah, that¡¯s right. Unless there are two Primus-hunting cults going around, right?¡± They let out a chuckle, which quickly turned into silence as their opener was met with silence in turn. Horan sighed and leaned forward. ¡°Well, they¡¯re not wrong. We can tell things haven¡¯t been easy around here, ah, for you, and the two of us think that a more, um, unified front between our Domains would lower the risk of one or all of our Domains getting wiped out by these Servants, as I have heard them be called. How are things going on your front, regarding that whole business?¡± Kuravaan shook his head and waved dismissively. ¡°Oh, no need to worry about how things are here, everything is under control for us. If we become desperate, we might call you, but we¡¯re sure that won¡¯t happen anytime soon.¡± A Primus entered the room through a door on the far wall, holding a tray with a pitcher of water and two glasses. Kuravaan paused as the attendant placed the tray on the coffee table between him and the guests. ¡°Thank you, Kunesh.¡± Omet decided to continue the conversation. ¡°Gr¨C¡± Kuravaan held up a single finger, then took one of the glasses and allowed the attendant to fill it up. He took a single sip before continuing. ¡°We¡¯ve established what you need help with, but what sort of details do you have? We can only assume that time isn¡¯t on your side, this time around.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Horan frantically exchanged hand gestures with Omet over the last remaining glass. ¡°...We really don¡¯t mean to rush you or anything. However, we¡¯re willing to accommodate you while we tide you over. Preparations for a dinner party are being made back at our place, and I¡¯m sure you can just teleport over and enjoy some Aztec-slash-Greek-slash-Egyptian hospitality before we all unite to save our collective hides?¡± Kuravaan only began to take another sip once Horan was done speaking. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re sure that you could host us, and we have no doubt that it won¡¯t be much of an issue for us. However, it would almost certainly be quite the time sink for us, and we¡¯d rather not put in the effort if we don¡¯t get anything in return. What can you offer our Domain, aside from a nice evening?¡± Omet glanced at Horan, who was staring at them as intently as he could manage. ¡°Uh¡­ I mean, it is true that you seem to be doing alright for yourselves, but¡­ we¡­ can¡­ offer a more permanent solution?¡± Kuravaan raised an eyebrow. Horan raised both. Omet continued. ¡°Sure, you might have the day-to-day attacks on your home under control, but from what little my Domain knows, we can reasonably assume that there must be millions of Servants. Plus, I saw the bodies outside. We know about those weird monster-things too. Odds are, however the Servants make them, they can probably make more. But the thing about that is, we¡¯ve got some information about their ringleader. We took in a Primus yesterday who got a good look at them while her Domain was being wiped out, and she¡¯s currently on a scouting operation to try and figure out potential next moves. We¡¯ve got a good deal of info on these people, is what I¡¯m saying. The playing field is being leveled as we speak.¡± Kuravaan put the glass back on the tray. It appeared to contain just as much water as it had when it was first filled up. Omet waited for a moment, but he said nothing. Omet finished their point. ¡°So unless you feel like dealing with these humans and their grotesque (yet admittedly really cool) perversions of natural life for the next decade or so, as a guess, you should probably at least humor us. We¡¯d rather not let all of our preparations go to waste.¡± Kuravaan sighed, which, Horan noted, sounded unexpectedly relieved. ¡°Well, I¨C we suppose we have little choice in the matter. What time is this dinner party?¡± Horan¡¯s sigh was far less subtle in the amount of relief it carried. ¡°Well, we don¡¯t really plan to start until you arrive, but you can show up at six. In the evening. Your time.¡± ¡°Mm-hmm¡­¡± Kuravaan took a step away from the two of them. ¡°Well, we shan¡¯t hurry.¡± ¡°Nah,¡± said Omet, moving to get up out of the awful chair. ¡°And,¡± blurted Horan as he pushed Omet back into their seat, ¡°it obviously just goes without saying that we¡¯ll be staying with you until then, as is the very prominent tradition for personal invitations to parties amongst Primoi. Isn¡¯t that right, Omet?¡± ¡°Um¡­¡± Omet tensed their shoulder, which Horan was gripping extremely tightly. ¡°...Right. Of course.¡± ¡°...Naturally.¡± Kuravaan pursed his lips and left the room. Once the clacking of Kuravaan¡¯s heels on the tiles was gone, Horan let go of Omet. ¡°Sorry. Reflex. Your shoulder okay?¡± ¡°Maybe a couple minutes of bruising, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°Okay. Anyway¡­¡± Horan slapped his own forehead. ¡°I didn¡¯t even mention any of the messenger rules beforehand?! I¨C It¡¯s this whole thing, and¨C Wow, I¡¯m never the one delivering the message, I¡¯ve just kind of picked up the rules from how other people from other Domains act while in my house¡­ I might not be the best teacher for this.¡± Omet groaned. ¡°So we just stay here for the rest of the day? That¡¯s a rule?¡± ¡°It¡¯s meant as a sign of both trusting and being trustworthy, I think. When people don¡¯t, it¡¯s usually interpreted that their Domain is up to something that they don¡¯t want you knowing about.¡± ¡°Sure, of course.¡± Omet shifted in their seat. ¡°Do you think we can ask for an exception this time, because of the whole urgency of the matter? We¡¯ve got them locked down now, I feel like hanging around these people for nine hours would just give us¡ª by which I mean me¡ª more time to screw this up. Because I did notice that that guy didn¡¯t actually come to a decision. Odds are, he¡¯s still messing with us and is only gonna promise that they¡¯re gonna come at the last minute.¡± Horan brought his hands up to his lips. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s normal to not act like a decision is easy, it makes the other Domain feel like they¡¯re asking for a lot, we just need to play it cool until then. But hey, it could¡¯ve gone worse. We weren¡¯t laughed out of the building. Which is good, because we¡­ We do need these guys to teleport home now.¡± Omet slumped. ¡°Yeah, well, I just did a lot of the decision-making there on autopilot. These things feel like they should have a manual, because this does not come naturally. Can¡¯t we¨C ugh, Are you sure that I can¡¯t just ask to make an exception here? See if two reasonable ¡®adults¡¯ can help each other out when times are tough?¡± Horan snorted. ¡°Nope. Trust me, I wish leaders could go make changes to stuff like this. It¡¯s been like this since before Deus manifested. We¡¯re stuck here until tonight, dude. I guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected A-grade negotiations from a first-timer, though, I guess. I said ¡®I guess¡¯ twice, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not the worst thing that could happen, not really. Now we get a better idea of who we¡¯re recruiting. Plus, I do kinda want to know how these people managed to do that kind of damage.¡± They nodded in the vague direction of the entrance. ¡°I wasn¡¯t really sure that people like them would be all that helpful, but it seems like something we should clear up before we let these people into our house.¡± Horan nodded. ¡°Seems like a good idea for you to want to know a bit more about these people while you have the chance, but I would like to remind you that they¡¯re our first and last option. But I¡¯m not gonna shut you down, you¡¯re in charge this time around¡­ Okay, I¡¯m gonna get up now, this chair is making me antsy.¡± Chapter 12 Before properly entering the building, Mark opted to put on his gas mask. He¡¯d seen a lot of people in the street wear them, including unarmed Servants. He decided that it would both help with anonymity if that became useful, and make him seem like a more integrated member. He immediately felt very self-conscious when he saw that nobody inside wore any face coverings. Half a dozen people hung around the makeshift lounge/lobby, mostly listening to one person strumming a ukulele in the corner. A few looked over at Mark when he opened the door, stared at him quizzically, then looked back at the musician. The player noticed that their gazes had shifted and looked over at Mark. ¡°Hey there, you trying to audition for a job as a Huntsman?¡± Mark had no idea what the person had just said, but the laughs of the other people were enough to get him to sheepishly start removing his mask. Waia, meanwhile, stepped past him. ¡°Yeah, sorry about this guy. Doesn¡¯t really speak like the locals, and I¡¯m not gonna call him the smartest person in the room.¡± Mark looked up from his task of pulling off his impressively secure mask. ¡°Hey!¡± Waia sat down on one of the ripped-up couches opposite the ukulele player, which creaked with alarming volume under her sudden weight. ¡°The two of us are new ¡®round these parts, we figured we could hang around in here. That cool?¡± The player shrugged and set his instrument aside. ¡°Not stopping you. Would kinda defeat the purpose of everything in Cuernavaca being communal now if we did. What¡¯s your name?¡± He looked past Waia at Mark, who was still in the process of taking his mask off, but was doing it in a much more flustered manner. ¡°Or, um, your names?¡± Waia remained surprisingly stony-faced. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can get to that later.¡± The player squinted at Mark. ¡°Yeah, to be honest, we¡¯re probably just going to give you our own. It¡¯s the way of things.¡± Another Servant piped up. ¡°¡®Bug-eyes¡¯ is the obvious answer.¡± A few others laughed and nodded in assent. The player smirked. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s good. You can stay Grumpy de Tattoos for now, but we¡¯re gonna find something for you. I¡¯m Boxer, these are Blaize-With-An-I, Jetstream, Chas-Chas, Manuel, and Funk.¡± He pointed to the relevant Servants. Waia immediately forgot all of their names. ¡°Yeah, whatever you say. So do you just hang around and play tiny guitars all day around here?¡± The player snorted. ¡°Yeah, I wish. We just get to take breaks every few hours. Nobody actually makes sure we¡¯re working when we¡¯re supposed to, but we¡¯re fine with what we¡¯re given. Less time to bring this world back together, and all.¡± Waia hoped the instinctual clenching of her jaw hadn¡¯t been too noticeable. ¡°...Oh yeah? How¡¯s that whole thing going for you Servants?¡± One of the others shrugged. Waia believed that one had been introduced as¡­ No, she had no idea. ¡°Well, we all joined something like three weeks ago, right around when the Servants arrived out here. And, uh¡­¡± They gestured in the direction of the door. ¡°Things are looking up. They¡¯ve pulled everyone around into one place, they¡¯re giving out jobs to everyone in good enough shape to work and taking care of the rest, the whole package. It¡¯s like the last few years haven¡¯t even happened.¡± Waia grunted. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s great.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not even the best part,¡± said another. ¡°Torch, the one in charge? They know how to fix everything for real. Who¡¯d you lose, back when all this started?¡± Waia, who had only half been paying attention, perked up just a little. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± groaned the first one, ¡°Everyone knows someone who got taken. It was something like two-thirds of humanity! Who do you know who was lost from all this?¡± Waia looked at the floor. The one who had spoken was punched in the shoulder by the person sitting next to them. ¡°Not cool! You don¡¯t just start with that, man. Let her bring it up when she wants to!¡± One of the two to have not yet spoken piped up. ¡°Point is, Torch knows about something that will bring everyone back, all the billions of people that were taken. Doesn¡¯t matter who you lost, they¡¯ll be back once our job is done. You probably heard about Primoi, the weird giant demigods or whatever, from whoever told you to come here. They¡¯re the ones responsible for making our lives hell all this time, and Torch is bringing us all together to make them rue the day they thought we would take all of this lying down.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You know,¡± said the player, ¡°that might be why they¡¯re called Torch. I always kinda wondered why they¡¯re using a title like that instead of their real name. Maybe it¡¯s a symbolism thing, like they¡¯re the¡­ light of vengeance? Hence the motto? Along those lines? Maybe?¡± ¡°Eh,¡± mumbled the last one. ¡°That¡¯s kinda dumb, but it¡¯s probably what it¡¯s supposed to mean.¡± ¡°They¡¯re probably saving an actual explanation for some big speech once we¡¯ve one.¡± The player fingered the end of his ukelele. ¡°Well, let¡¯s call that mystery solved for now¡­¡± He sat in silence for a moment. ¡°Why were we talking about this again?¡± He caught Waia¡¯s gaze. ¡°Oh, right, you¡¯re still here. So, how¡¯s that pitch working for you? We didn¡¯t really have time to plan that out or anything, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard of someone turning us down. Not much else to do, and it¡¯s probably a good idea to get insurance against the things that apparently leveled San Francisco.¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°Well, like you said, not much reason to leave.¡± After waiting for her to say something more, the player decided to just shrug. ¡°Good enough. Welcome to our little army of misfits, Waia. I think you and Bug-eyes back there will fit right in.¡± ¡°Whatever you say.¡± Waia got up from her seat, then paused with one hand still poised on the top of the couch. ¡°...My wife, for one. I lost my wife to all this. Just for future reference, so you don¡¯t need to bring it up again.¡± The player nodded solemnly. ¡°Like I thought. As I said, we¡¯ve all lost someone. You¡¯ll get her back soon.¡± Waia sighed. ¡°Whatever you say.¡± She pulled Mark along as she went up the staircase off to the side of the room. ¡°Back rooms are available,¡± called out one of the Servants as the two ascended. Once they were both well out of earshot, Mark sighed with relief as he pulled the gas mask off all the way. ¡°Okay, not as mask-heavy as I was led to believe, that¡¯s on me. I did say it¡¯ll mostly be civilians, I guess. So, what did you talk about? Hard to figure out, considering you just kinda sat there and looked bored.¡± Waia leaned against the opposite wall. ¡°Nothing, symbolism stuff. They forgot I was there for part of it.¡± Mark stared at her, unimpressed. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make this uncomfortable, I¡¯m the last one who wants that, but I heard the last part that you said to them. What did they say?¡± Waia sighed and looked Mark in the eye. ¡°It¡¯s exactly what we expected, okay? If they found out what I am, I¡¯d be burned at the stake or something. They turned an archipelago into a ghost town in a week, they¡¯re targeting all of us for what Deus did. No news to report. What more is there to understand?¡± ¡°And how did the conversation shift to Ivy?¡± Waia¡¯s stoic expression shifted to a scowl. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna look this far into it, maybe you should be asking them these questions yourself.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t speak Spanish, Waia, we¡¯ve covered this.¡± ¡°Yeah, okay, I know, I¡¯m just¡­¡± Waia pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Can we just do our job here and go back to your place? Looking at the people here makes me want to hit them.¡± ¡°I want to do the exact same,¡± said Mark. ¡°Leave, I mean. So help me help us. Was there any info they gave that we should follow up on? Anything that might be worth investigating further while we¡¯re here?¡± ¡°Well¡­ They¡¯re all apparently pretty new around here, but they were talking about the Nabbing as if Torch knows some way to¡­ reverse it, apparently. Take everyone back from Deus, or something.¡± Mark nodded gravely. ¡°Okay, from the outset, that sounds insane. You know Deus better than I do, I assume, what are the odds of a human being able to do that being impossible?¡± Waia thought for a moment. ¡°Ninety¡­ Eight. And a half. Percent. That¡¯s about right.¡± ¡°Okay, not negligible odds¡­¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Yeah, more investigation it is. You think you can get some more info out of the Servants here?¡± Waia made a poor attempt at holding back a grin. ¡°Oh, that I can do.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to ignore that very questionable phrasing-expression combo for now.¡± Mark pointed over his shoulder with his thumb at the furthest-back rooms in the corridor they were in, lined with doors that appeared to have apartment numbers on them. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can establish a base of operations up here, get a private area for us to work.¡± ¡°Okay, sure, if that¡¯s how these things are done.¡± The two of them parted in opposite directions down the corridor. After a few steps, right before Mark reached the door, Waia turned around and looked back at him. ¡°Hey, one more thing?¡± Mark stopped and turned back to face her. ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± Waia seemed to force herself to continue. ¡°I actually used to occasionally visit other members of my Domain for the past couple years, mostly on my island, to see how they were doing and check out the towns they were protecting. Whenever we sat down and chatted, most of them always ended up turning the conversation to Ivy, to remind me that settling down with a human was a bad idea, I wasn¡¯t thinking long-term, this was just a phase, typical fare. But pretty much every single time, I had to remind them what her name was, I think they were trying to make a point. Might¡¯ve been a conspiracy against me or something.¡± Mark glanced back at the unopened door. ¡°...Alright? Did you just want to tell me this, or..?¡± ¡°No, no, it¡¯s¡­¡± Waia allowed a smile. ¡°I just wanted to thank you for remembering her name. That¡¯s all.¡± Mark shrugged and nodded. ¡°Wasn¡¯t hard. Guess I¡¯m just good with names.¡± ¡°Well, um¡­¡± Waia turned back to the stairs. ¡°Thanks anyway.¡± Chapter 13 Fifty or so Indians sat in groups of two or three at several tables strewn across one of their several immaculately-kept gardens, daintily eating the spiced chickpeas that had been served to them at seven PM on the dot. Omet and Horan had been given their food first. Omet didn¡¯t see anyone looking at the two of them, and Horan had quietly told them not to look over their shoulder, but they could feel dozens of eyes boring into their back as they picked at their food with their ornate ivory utensils. Horan noted that Omet had stopped eating halfway through their meal and tried to speak in the quietest non-whisper voice that he could manage. ¡°You gotta finish that eventually. Not even touching your meal like that is a really bad move.¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°Breakfast was two hours ago, I¡¯m not hungry.¡± ¡°Interdimensional jet lag isn¡¯t an excuse, Omet. We don¡¯t even have metabolisms, you can¡¯t be hungry to begin with.¡± Omet took a half-hearted bite of rice. ¡°It¡¯s an emotional thing, I guess, I dunno. Time zones or no, dinner is not designed to be eaten two hours after breakfast. Also, this is some of the best food I¡¯ve ever had, and I feel dirty having it without everyone else.¡± Horan took a bite and started speaking. ¡°Que¡­¡± He suddenly froze, looked around at the Primoi around him, then swallowed. ¡°Right. It¡¯s to be expected, you know. You¡¯re used to eating food prepared by a hobbyist in order to all gather in one place. Everyone else does it to know that they have better cooks on hand than all the super-fancy human restaurants. The Indians probably have one person who¡¯s been practicing a medium-sized list of dishes for millennia. I found out about how common a practice like that is when I helped organize an Eid celebration for a bunch of Domains across the Abbasid Caliphate, biggest event I ever had a hand in, and every Domain had one person dedicated day-in, day-out to making six or seven meals flawlessly. Point is, this is a pretty standard Old World-caliber meal.¡± ¡°Nobody¡¯s talking except us. They¡¯re like ghosts.¡± Omet sighed and shook their head. ¡°It would seem that everyone except my family and our roommates lost their minds centuries ago.¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s how it works. If you don¡¯t follow the rules, they¡¯re gonna notice. And when they notice¡­¡± He trailed off. Omet looked down at their food for a moment. ¡°...Okay¡­ So, uh, you mentioned a, uh, a Seraphim? No, it wasn¡¯t that, it was¨C¡± ¡°Seraphium.¡± ¡°Right, yeah.¡± Omet shuddered. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, a name like that sounds like Deus¡¯ work. I¡¯m gonna assume the name is completely meaningless and ask what Deus would need something like that for.¡± ¡°You know, that actually reminds me.¡± Horan ate his remaining food as quickly as he could without seeming uncouth, then placed his knife and fork parallel to one another on the plate and got up. ¡°Most Primoi here aren¡¯t the best drinking buddies, as one might put it, but I know a guy. I mentioned him earlier, I think.¡± While Omet watched quietly and spread their food across their and Horan¡¯s plates so that it seemed like there was less of it left, Horan sauntered over to the two Indians seated at the nearest table. ¡°Evening, you two. So sorry for disturbing your meal.¡± The Primus on the left visibly held back a sigh and nodded curtly, looking up at Horan expectantly. ¡°Well, hey now.¡± Horan moved to lean on the table, but swiftly decided against it. ¡°Who says I want anything from you fine folks?¡± The Indian tried and failed to glance inconspicuously at Omet, then looked back down and pretended like Horan wasn¡¯t there.¡± Horan didn¡¯t drop his smile, but did feel his nails digging into the palm of his hand. ¡°Okay, fine, we¡¯ve been a little loud. But that¡¯s fine, no problem. My fault for interrupting your wonderful garden¡¯s feng shui. One question and it¡¯ll be back to all quiet.¡± The Indian on the right pursed their lips and shrugged. Horan noticed them mouth Get on with it, despite them trying to hide it. ¡°Naturally.¡± Horan could feel the table itself turn hostile towards him, though it hadn¡¯t exactly been friendly beforehand. ¡°So, um¡­ Do either of you have an idea of where Rachna is right now? I want to introduce him to the other guest, and¡­¡± The two Indians immediately went back to eating, not even glancing up at Horan. ¡°...Right then.¡± Horan slowly turned around, strolled back to his table and retook his seat in a poor attempt to seem casual. He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly shut it and opted to just wind-speak to Omet. ¡°Didn¡¯t even debate it. They don¡¯t want me talking to Rachna.¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°Okay? I guess he¡¯s dead, or something.¡± Horan shook his head. ¡°I would¡¯ve heard of it, you know how much of a big deal individual Primoi dying used to be. Especially in the Old World. That¡¯s the thing in places like this: When someone doesn¡¯t want to bring something up, it means they have a reason to not bring it up¡­ Okay, that¡¯s actually a pretty universal rule.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think your insistence that everyone here constantly follows these rules of polite society is allowed to overrule Occam¡¯s Razor.¡± Horan stared at Omet for a moment. ¡°Omet. Omet. Look at me, Omet.¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I never stopped looking at you.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Horan leaned slightly forward. ¡°Now answer me this: Between the two of us, which one has been frequently fraternizing with the Indians since the Domain manifested?¡± Omet sighed. ¡°You. Bu¨C¡± ¡°Meanwhile, you¡¯re mostly familiar with your own Domain, plus presumably the other New World Domains, who I¡¯m really not familiar with. Probably some humans, too. Now, seeing these things through Mark¡¯s perspective, plus a little bit of common sense, makes me realize that people acting like this is completely insane. However, consider the fact that plenty of human aristocrats are like this too. Primoi just have more snobs per capita, I suppose. It comes with bleeding money.¡± Omet regretted rushing their meal. They now couldn¡¯t act like they weren¡¯t paying full attention. ¡°I don¡¯t want to say that you¡¯re making zero sense. I don¡¯t want to become a second Mark, I think his manner of expressing love can be interpreted as disingenuous at times. But frankly, I think the whole house agrees that you should just raise your standards. If you need to deal with all these rules just so that you aren¡¯t laughed out of someone¡¯s house, maybe you should just hang out with someone friendlier?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure I would.¡± Horan¡¯s eye shifted downward. ¡°If I could do that without us all dying.¡± Before Omet could respond, Horan straightened up again. ¡°But there¡¯s a very big difference between being civil and being nice, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed by now. And that¡¯s why I brought this.¡± He pulled his sticker book out of a pocket on the inside of his jacket. Omet blinked in surprise at the appearance of the book. It had been a long time since they had thought about it. ¡°I assume there¡¯s a catch here?¡± ¡°Yup. Turns out, birthdays can actually be pretty useful when you¡¯ve got a friend who can make things magic. Let¡¯s say that humans got lucky when they had the idea.¡± Horan began flipping through the book, keeping one hand free to maintain the hand motions that let him wind-speak to Omet. ¡°Quet touched this thing up for me when I mentioned my zodiac sign, because birthday gifts were apparently the first thing to come into her mind when she found out when I was born.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not surprised.¡± ¡°Neither am I.¡± Horan stopped flipping. ¡°Here we go. She turned the whole book into a ¡®beginner thaumaturgy set¡¯, apparently with a whole bunch of spells written onto the backs of the stickers. I never did ask how she managed to get them all back into the book, but the point is that one of the pages is this.¡± Horan put the book on the table and spun it around so that Omet could see. The phrase ¡®Remote semnsory projection¡¯ was written at the top in Quet¡¯s handwriting, with the weather-themed stickers on the page surrounded by impressively tiny text that, based on a quick examination, seemed to be a breakdown of how the page¡¯s matrices were constructed and how one could make their own. Omet squinted and mumbled as they read Quet¡¯s notes, only for Horan to turn the book back around. ¡°The notes aren¡¯t the important part. The only spells my mom managed to teach me were making swords and turning into a bird, and I have never once needed anything else. Until now, I guess, but why learn things when you can get a friend to do the thing for you?¡± Omet nodded slowly. ¡°So what exactly is your plan for¡­ remote sem-sensory something?¡± ¡°Simple.¡± Horan looked over the stickers, feeling like they clashed very heavily with the tone of the conversation. ¡°I agree with you that there¡¯s a pretty decent chance that the Indians are just stringing us along and plan on ditching us once they¡¯ve had their way with us, and that¡¯s why one must always have a contingency, and there¡¯s only one real way to go with that: Blackmail and the uncovering of fresh ¡®goss¡¯, as I have heard it called, is a part of these situations that not many people realize the true prominence of. All that matters is that you¡¯re smart about it. Make sure nobody names any names, and all that.¡± ¡°I¡­ should not have expected anything else.¡± Omet lowered their voice even further. The feeling of everyone¡¯s gazes prickling into their back seemed to intensify. ¡°I feel like a piece of garbage talking about this with you, even though it¡¯s just because they haven¡¯t overtly done anything bad. Who are we even going to send the blackmail to if this falls through? I say we just keep our heads down and try to look dependable.¡± ¡°And deal with the Indians on equal footing?¡± Horan pulled the book closer to himself. ¡°This isn¡¯t this hard, you know. Just a little clandestine observation, discovering the deep dark secrets of your neighbors, them indirectly acknowledging that they know you know what they know, but you know that they know that they can¡¯t tell anyone you know without also revealing their deep dark secrets¡­ I don¡¯t involve myself in this part of Domain politics much, it¡¯s seen as too unsavory for a leader to do themselves, but it can¡¯t be that hard. The secret of the de¡¯ Medici family¡¯s wealth was blackmailing the Etruscans into blood donations using incriminating letters. If humans can invent the practice, it can¡¯t be hard for a Primus to do it a little.¡± ¡°Are you saying that we¡¯re naturally better at blackmail than humans?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t be worse. Also, this whole trip is going to completely suck if I don¡¯t have Rachna around to be fun on his Domain¡¯s behalf, endorsing him by word of mouth is probably starting to get to you. Also, considering how frequently I said ¡®know¡¯ there, I think a little sanity is gonna come in handy.¡± Omet picked at what little remained of their food, at a loss for how to respond to any of this. ¡°...Alright? I guess? But I¡¯m not really sure how we could actually do anything like that. Hey, I¡¯m sure Rachna¡¯s nice, I¡¯m fine with taking your word for it.¡± ¡°Eh, it¡¯s no problem for you.¡± Horan tucked the book back into his jacket as inconspicuously as he could manage. ¡°That¡¯s the great part of me not technically being in charge for this visit. If I get caught, you can just say you didn¡¯t support this and get less hassle from it. Actually, since I¡¯m from a different Domain, you could probably weasel your way into getting off scot-free.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not doing that.¡± Omet picked their fork back up and considered continuing to eat so that they could have something to do with their hands, but decided against it. Horan sighed. ¡°I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but that¡¯s kind of stupid, considering the situation.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care, nobody gets thrown under the bus while I have anything to say about it.¡± Omet glanced up at Horan. ¡°Mitigating circumstances or no, I have principles regarding how I treat my friends that I¡¯m not breaking.¡± Horan held a hand up. ¡°Alright, fine, I get the picture. I think.¡± He stood up, quietly gripping his chair so that it didn¡¯t grind against the brick floor as he stepped away from the table. ¡°Ideal world, I just don¡¯t get caught. Obviously.¡± Omet only briefly met his gaze as he took a few steps back. ¡°...Fine, sure. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything stopping you at this point. I think I¡¯ve got some ideas that need workshopping in private, actually. I think I saw a library while we were headed for dinner, I might hang out there.¡± Horan waved them off. ¡°No worries, dude. Birds are very inconspicuous.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Chapter 14 Mark shook his leg, trying to dispel the pins and needles that he had only just noticed had been building up as he peered out of his new bedroom¡¯s window and onto the street outside. His movement didn¡¯t even jostle his view of a cargo container just visible inside a garage down the road, which visibly rocked back and forth due to something inside while several Servants tried to stabilize it, all of whom were casting nervous glances around at the surrounding area while they worked. Mark thought he could see the bar securing the container¡¯s door slip a little, revealing a sliver of its interior. He leaned forward to try and get a better angle, but the motion was interrupted halfway through by Waia slamming the door open. Mark reflexively jumped to his feet, hit his head on the top of the windowsill, and slid down to the floor with his head cradled in his arms. ¡°...This had better be good.¡± Waia winced slightly at the sight of Mark curled up on the ground. ¡°I did a thing. Sorry, by the way.¡± Mark curled up tighter. ¡°Nobody starts an enjoyable conversation with ¡®I did a thing¡¯.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure, whatever you say.¡± Waia pulled Mark to his feet. ¡°Seen anything on your end?¡± ¡°Just a shipping container with something very mad inside it.¡± Mark absent-mindedly rubbed his head and set the binoculars down on the windowsill. ¡°Oh, guess they¡¯ve brought more Orsinus monsters here, then.¡± Mark contemplated lying back down in the ground. ¡°Okay, my turn.¡± Waia took Mark by the arm, giving him just enough time to grab his backpack from on top of the bed, and led him out of the room. ¡°Attics are great for these kinds of things.¡± Mark winced even harder, his eyes barely open enough to let him see where they were going. ¡°Please don¡¯t be what I think it is, we don''t have enough spare time to deal with something new, please don¡¯t be what I think it is¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s what you think it is.¡± Mark let out a barely-restrained groan, only trying to muffle it to avoid alerting anyone who might have been in the entrance. ¡°Okay, shush. There¡¯s a ladder out back.¡± One of the Servants was lounging on one of the couches in the common room, head dangling off the armrest. He waved lazily at Mark and Waia as they crossed the room to a door on the other side of the room. Mark stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and nodded curtly in response, while Waia averted her eyes and picked up her pace. The backyard of the building had had half a dozen rusted barrels stacked up against the gray brick walls that made up three sides of the concrete cube of the yard, then painted with target symbols and riddled with bullet holes. A small ladder was built into the building¡¯s rear wall, leading twenty feet up to an empty doorway, presumably the attic in question. The instant Mark entered the yard, he got the inexplicable urge to look at the ground. Halfway between the door and the ladder, a small puddle of dried blood was spread across the concrete, soaking into the tip of a barely-smoldering cigarette. Waia noticed Mark wince. ¡°I take ¡®em where I can get ¡®em, don¡¯t judge. Up you go.¡± Mark snuffed out the cigarette with his boot before climbing up the ladder. ¡°How did you even get them up there?¡± Waia snorted as she followed Mark up. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry you don¡¯t have enough gains to climb a ladder with only one arm, but you don¡¯t need to act so surprised that I do.¡± ¡°...Alright?¡± Mark scrambled up through the raised doorway. ¡°Hey, why does this place even have a door so high up?¡± He turned around and reached down to help Waia up. Waia gently pushed his hand to the side and pulled herself up. ¡°It¡¯s a colonial thing, they used a pulley to hoist things up into the attic for storage. What matters is that there¡¯s a door up here, and it makes it a lot easier to stick someone in the attic without anyone noticing. She stuck her arm out towards the far side of the room. ¡°Case in point.¡± One of the Servants lay in a heap in a corner of the dark attic, face planted into the thin wooden floor. Mark sighed at the sight. ¡°Okay, so now¨C¡± He stopped and looked down. The wood beneath his feet really didn¡¯t look like it was particularly soundproof. He decided to lower his voice. ¡°So now we¡¯ve got a dead guy in the attic. One down, likely several hundred to go. Now what?¡± ¡°Well, he¡¯s not dead¡­¡± Waia¡¯s gaze briefly flitted towards the body before returning to Mark. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure. I did figure he would be up by now¡­¡± She strode over to the far side of the room and slapped the bloody-nosed captive in the face, eliciting a barely-audible moan. She turned back to Mark. ¡°Nah, we¡¯re golden.¡± Mark sidled up next to Waia and examined their prisoner, wincing at the sight of a large bruise on his face. ¡°Okay, how do you want to do this?¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°How about Good Cop, Bad Cop? That¡¯s pretty standard.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think either of us can do a convincing ¡®good cop¡¯.¡± Stolen story; please report. ¡°...Bad Cop, Worse Cop?¡± ¡°That¡¯ll work.¡± ¡°Nice.¡± Waia slapped the prisoner considerably harder, the sound of which was not too far away from a whip crack. The prisoner squealed in pain before Mark clamped a hand over his mouth. With one hand, the prisoner cradled his stricken face, and with the other, he pulled his legs close to his chest. Mark took a deep breath. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s how¨C¡± He felt the palm of his hand get licked. Instinctively, he yanked his hand away and groaned in disgust. No longer being held down, the prisoner suddenly pushed away from the floor with his legs, launching himself forward and past his two captors. He was on his feet seemingly in an instant, sprinting straight towards the doorway. Waia lunged backwards and just managed to wrap her hand around his angle, sending him plummeting back to the floor with a loud thud. Both Mark and Waia were dead still for several seconds, their gazes rotating between each other, the prisoner, and the floor. After what felt like several minutes, Mark relaxed his posture somewhat. Seeing her partner¡¯s movement, Waia immediately leapt forward and pinned the prisoner to the floor. ¡°You listen here. If I see you move another inch, I¡¯m gonna turn you into ground beef and feed you to those monsters of yours. Call for help, and you¡¯ll be dead before you can finish the second word. Are we clear?¡± The prisoner grunted, but didn¡¯t move. ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± Mark unslung his backpack and set it on the ground. ¡°Hey, bring him back here. I told you rope was gonna come in handy.¡± ¡°Right, sure. You just got lucky.¡± Waia yanked the prisoner to his feet and pushed him back against the wall, then shoved him down onto his knees. While Mark got to work tying his legs together, the prisoner began to indistinctly mumble while blankly staring at the floor. Waia noticed his lips move and cuffed him on the ear. ¡°Stop that. Either let us hear it, or shut up until we get to the questions.¡± The prisoner glanced up at Waia and continued in English. ¡°I am a Servant of their reckoning, and I will live to see their kind gone from this world. The crimes of the Primoi will be undone, and humankind will step forth into a new world free of that which would see them cowering in the darkness. The broken remains of the world will be remade into a new paradise for us, and our children, and their children. I am a Servant of Reckoning, and I am humanity¡¯s savior... I am a Servant of their reckoning, and I wi¨C¡± Waia shut him up with a right hook across the face. ¡°I heard you the first time.¡± She looked across at Mark. ¡°You¡¯d think that they¡¯d at least try to act like they aren¡¯t a bunch of complete lunatics, but here they are with their manifesto mantras. That they memorize.¡± Mark got up from his work, but didn¡¯t respond to what Waia had said. He slowly stepped around the prisoner, who was visibly continuing his mantra based on his lip movement, but wasn¡¯t speaking loud enough for either of them to hear. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s figure this out. What do we already know?¡± ¡°The Servants are crazy and want to kill us all.¡± ¡°Yup. You remember this guy¡¯s name?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember a single thing about these people.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± Mark crouched back down. The prisoner was back to staring at the floor ¡°Hey. Hey, l¨C¡± He snapped in the prisoner¡¯s face. ¡°Look at me.¡± The prisoner raised his head slightly. ¡°I am a Ser¨C¡± ¡°No, we¡¯re not doing that. Keep that up, and this will get real bad, real fast.¡± Mark pulled up a corner of his hoodie, revealing the bowie knife tucked into his waistband. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna get all choked up from torture, and my friend here is probably gonna enjoy it.¡± ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Yeah, so you¡¯d best stop with the cult stuff.¡± Mark pulled the knife out and placed it vertically on the floor, keeping it stable between his hand and the plank. ¡°Question one: What do you and the rest of your friends know about getting everyone back from the Nabbing?¡± The prisoner chuckled. ¡°So that¡¯s what you monsters have been calling it? Just one little word and you¡¯re done with it? Checks out, seems like just another day for you all.¡± He glanced up at Waia. ¡°Trying to make us feel bad for you so you could slip under the radar like that? Low blow. Some of us have actually had to deal w¨C¡± Waia thrust her leg forward, slamming the sole of her boot into the prisoner¡¯s gut. He wheezed in pain and toppled forward, just barely keeping himself up by pushing against the floor with one arm. Waia pushed him all the way down with the same leg, making his arm buckle to the side. ¡°Keep talking like that and Mark will have to find someone else to get answers out of.¡± Mark held a hand up towards Waia as he pulled the prisoner back up. ¡°Just a little more. He¡¯s certainly starting to get on my nerves too, but let¡¯s not jump the gun here.¡± He pushed the prisoner back up to a kneeling position. ¡°Start answering or I won¡¯t tell her to back off anymore. Is this Torch of yours just telling you that they¡¯ve got a solution, or are they backing their claims up?¡± Another chuckle. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter what I know, not to the ones orchestrating your deaths. The new Huntmaster of North America is the most experienced Primus-hunter in the world, that¡¯s why Torch brought him all the way out here. It doesn¡¯t matter if I tell you even the things that only Torch knows, because your fate has already been sealed. The Servants will achieve their ultimate goal in a few months. Weeks, even. But you will both be dead by day¡¯s end, and your disgusting perversion of this entire city will be quickly forgotten.¡± Waia put a hand on Mark¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Forget it, Mark. He¡¯s not saying a word.¡± The prisoner smirked. ¡°Like I said, no need. There¡¯s no hiding in this place. You can start running now, perhaps. Might make things a little more fun for the city¡¯s Huntsmen. Because they certainly don¡¯t plan on giving you a head start themselves.¡± In the distance, half a dozen air horns went off at once, the shrill siren reverberating through the city¡¯s streets. The prisoner snorted. ¡°Right, of course. You know, it completely slipped my mind that Torch was arriving today, in the flesh. I give you two hours. Three, if you¡¯re l¨C¡± Waia lunged forward with her elbow, striking the prisoner¡¯s temple and making him collapse to the floor, instantly unconscious. ¡°Shut it.¡± ¡°Okay, that one was definitely too hard.¡± Mark got up and took a step away. ¡°Well, that went sideways¡­ The Servants here seemed a lot more relaxed before. They really have it out for u¨C for you, huh?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t expect anything less,¡± mumbled Waia. Something thumped against the floor from the other side, followed by one of the other Servants calling out from the ground floor. ¡°Hey! New guys! We can hear you up there, take a break from whatever you¡¯re doing and join everyone else in the assembly! We gotta give Torch a proper greeting.¡± Mark glanced at Waia, who nodded grimly and turned back to the door. ¡°Guess we¡¯re going in blind.¡± Waia nodded once again in response, not turning to look back at Mark. ¡°I always do.¡± Chapter 15 Kuravaan strode through the hall, a second Primus trailing behind him. It hadn¡¯t been obvious when he had greeted Omet and Horan, due to him keeping his distance from the two of them, but now that someone else was close to him, it became clear that Kuravaan towered over most other Primoi, with a full foot and a half between him and his companion. Kuravaan held his arms behind his back as he walked. ¡°And our guests know where they are allowed?¡± His companion nodded, which Kuravaan presumably did not see. ¡°We¡¯ve clearly marked the rooms intended for their use and visitation, and made sure to inform them both of the indicators that we used.¡± ¡°Excellent, good work.¡± Kuravaan emerged from the hallway into one of the seemingly dozens of gardens that his home had, then turned around to look at Jatra. ¡°Also, just to be sure, check up on Rachna again. I don¡¯t want him causing a scene while we have guests.¡± ¡°Yes, of course. Right away.¡± Jatra scurried around a topiary elephant and out of sight. Horan tapped the tiny TV-shaped sticker, and the postage stamp-sized moving image on the screen that displayed the conversation between the two Indians froze in place. He pulled his head away from the sticker, relieved that he would no longer need to strain his eyes and hearing just to make out what was happening. He didn¡¯t really expect the audio-visual output of a bunch of stickers to be very high, but it was still a challenge to figure out what was going on. He got up and stretched his legs. Two hours of sitting on the roof and waiting for anything good after sticking his network of surveillance sticker-glyphs was surprisingly lucky, but he had really been caught off-guard by how tedious that entire period was. Glad that phase of the plan was done. Horan was pretty sure that he recognized the garden with the elephant-shaped bush from when he was placing his stickers all over the palace, which meant that he could still intercept Jatra. He quickly shifted into a bird and flew off to where he figured that particular garden was. Horan silently thanked whoever had designed the Indians¡¯ palace for forgetting that rain existed, as Jatra was easily located once Horan had a bird¡¯s-eye view of the labyrinthine corridors. However, Jatra eventually turned to open a nondescript door that revealed a dark, underground staircase. Horan was forced to swoop down and land on the doorframe while Jatra looked down the hallway to make sure he hadn¡¯t been seen. When Jatra pulled the door shut, Horan squirmed onto the side and clung to the metal lining the door with his talons as Jatra brought the staircase back into darkness. Jatra made his eyes flare with dirty orange light, illuminating the staircase while he descended into its depths. Horan awkwardly hopped down the steps a few feet behind him, constantly willing him not to turn around. The unlit staircase ended abruptly in an unmarked wooden door, nondescript aside from the several deadbolts holding it in place. While Jatra withdrew a ring of keys from a hook on the wall and set to releasing the numerous locks on the door, Horan hunkered down as far away as he could manage while still having a good view of the door. Jatra finally got the door open and swung it inward. ¡°Me again. Just wanted to¨C¡± He stiffened and whipped around, the beam of light from his eyes clearly illuminating Horan¡¯s avian form. While Horan was frozen in fear and desperately tried to recall what it was that normal, non-suspicious birds usually did, Jatra relaxed slightly and clutched his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t do that!¡± He pointed inside the pitch-black room on the other side of the door. ¡°Get back in there, the Aztecs have arrived and Kuravaan will have both of our heads if you make things go south for us!¡± Horan slowly began to walk backwards up the stairs, still too petrified to take his eyes off Jatra. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he could potentially get out of the cramped space without Jatra realizing who he was. He managed to go up a single step before Jatra held up a hand. ¡°No, we¡¯re not doing that. Shift back, come on.¡± Horan performed the closest approximation of a wince that he could manage with a beak. The jig was up, then. He shifted back to his true form, feeling his hair suddenly brush up against the ceiling of the staircase. ¡°Okay, I c¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯re not Rachna.¡± Horan froze. ¡°Wh-what?¡± Rachna didn¡¯t respond, instead shoving Horan to the side as he sprinted back up the stairs. Horan was sent tumbling down half a dozen stairs before he got the idea to stabilize himself with a cushion of air. He mindlessly followed Jatra just to find out what was going on, then got the idea to check the room at the bottom of the stairs. As the blue beam of light emanating from his eye swept across the dark stone walls, Horan saw that the cubical room was completely empty, with the walls covered in a zoo¡¯s worth of different scratch marks. Horan quickly decided to shut the door and follow Jatra. - The red-eyed Indian pushed the two sides of the paper boat towards one another, widening the middle of the faux-origami construct. ¡°And unless you skipped step 12, that should be good enough for the bucket.¡± Omet mirrored the movement and looked over their boat. ¡°Yeah, that looks about right. Aren¡¯t these normally used in gutters when it¡¯s raining and stuff? A bucket seems like a waste.¡± The Indian held back a snort and pulled up a large metal bucket filled with tap water. ¡°Well, these people are too boring to just get rid of the ceiling magic and just let the whole house flood, so the bucket will have to do. Now try not to¨C¡± He failed to hold back the second snort. ¡°Try not to cut yourself on that. Cellulose has no taste, is odorless, and is hydrophilic with a contact angle of twenty to thirty degrees.¡± ¡°...Neat.¡± Omet looked around at the library the two of them were seated in the corner of. Surprisingly normal in most respects, save for the lack of ladders, a good dozen Indians were huddled around the room¡¯s periphery, seemingly paying more attention to the other Indian than to Omet. Kuravaan sat in an armchair in the far corner, holding a dark orange-eyed Primus by the arm and whispering furiously in his ear. Omet shrugged and placed their tiny boat in the steel bucket. ¡°Where did you even get this¡­?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, look at it go!¡± The Indian cackled as Omet¡¯s boat floated serenely in the still water of the bucket, before throwing his own boat in with enough force to make the bucket rattle on the floor. Both boats quickly became soaked through and sank to the bottom. The Indian looked back up at Omet. ¡°Wait, it¡¯s common knowledge that paper does that, right?¡± ¡°Y¡­ Yes?¡± The Indian doubled over and fell out of his chair, wheezing with laughter. Omet retracted their limbs as the Indian rolled around and made sounds that brought an asthma attack to mind. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Suddenly, the Indian, face down and staring at the persian rug beneath his feet, redoubled his bout of laughter and pointed limply at the library¡¯s entrance. Omet looked up to see Horan standing in the entrance, staring at the Indian on the ground in shock and fear. Horan noticed the other Indians crowded up in the other side of the room and singled out Kuravaan. ¡°Were you just keeping Rachna locked in the basement?!¡± Kuravaan shot to his feet and closed the distance between Horan and the Indians in what felt like an instant, seemingly trying to block Horan¡¯s view of his Domain. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter right now, but we are so sorry for the scene, he¡¯s normally much more willing to stay in his room. There¡¯s, um, no need for us to make a big deal out of this, we can just guide Rachna back into his room and continue with things as we were?¡± Rachna devolved into hysterics, getting onto his knees and looking Horan dead in the eye with manic amusement. He briefly flashed with dull light, then transformed into a perfect copy of Horan, save for the same nonsensical laughter dominating his expression. Horan took a step back. ¡°R¨CRachna? Call it off, dude, this isn¡¯t funny¡­¡± Rachna began rapidly switching his appearance between everyone in the room. He shifted into Omet, then Kuravaan, then his entire body was momentarily engulfed with pale blue fire, then he switched to Jatra, then he started flipping through all the unintroduced Indians bunched up in the corner. All the while, his deranged cackling never abated. Horan tore his eyes away from Rachna and stared at Kuravaan. ¡°What¡­? Wha-what did Deus do to him?¡± Kuravaan clenched his jaw. ¡°We¡¯d all like to know the same thing¡­ Just¡­ Don¡¯t bring this up to anyone outside our home, understood?¡± Heaving with now silent laughter and fully settled into the appearance of one of the Indians watching from the side, Rachna crawled over to where Omet was still sitting, intermittently muttering under his breath in between bouts of giggling as he approached. ¡°Born alone of cold and fear¡­ Source of gold and glyph and claw and mist¡­ Vault of shame and secrets¡­ Dread of blue and white¡­¡± Omet pulled up their legs, out of Rachna¡¯s reach. ¡°I¨C I don¡¯t, I.. He seemed fine, he just kinda sta¨C just walked up to me and started talking! Wha¨C¡± They looked up at Horan. ¡°What happened to him?!¡± Kuravaan winced. ¡°Let¡¯s not, we don¡¯t need to make a scene about¨C¡± ¡°No.¡± Horan stepped forward. ¡°You¡¯re gonna explain right n¡­¡± Kuravaan glared at Horan. ¡°You¡¯re g¡­ You¡¯ll¡­¡± Horan shrank back, eliciting a satisfied huff from Kuravaan. One Indian stepped forward and tried to speak, but only made it as far as opening their mouth before Kuravaan glared at them in turn and they slunk back into the crowd. Horan stood next to Omet. ¡°I¡­ I remember when Deus first started throwing his weight around, it would¡¯ve been around when the Carthaginian Domain went mortal. He started threatening to intervene whenever someone messed with humanity, tried to pen everyone in and separate us from his pets.¡± Rachna giggled and looked up at Omet. ¡°Ooh, here¡¯s my favorite part!¡± Horan glanced at Rachna and swallowed. ¡°But a lot of peop¨C of Primoi didn¡¯t like that, a bunch of them camped out of their Domain¡¯s homes to try and prove a point. Rachna went the extra mile, crossed the Atlantic before we even knew there was something on the other side.¡± Rachna wheezed upon hearing the last part. ¡°I¡¯m sure a certain workplace acquaintance has told you about how fun a good rafting trip can be¡­¡± Horan continued, visibly uncomfortable by now. ¡°Deus tried every trick in the book, getting all these people back and, uh¡­ putting them in their place.¡± Omet shuddered, but decided not to inquire. Horan acknowledged the gesture with a nod. ¡°But no matter what sort of combination of powers or whatever he got from all that power Rome was constantly giving him, he couldn¡¯t get Rachna for some reason.¡± ¡°Hide And Seek all-time world champion,¡± mumbled Rachna. ¡°And after a few years of Rachna succeeding in making Deus look like a clown, the big guy got sick of it and made his own personal-use summoner, the Seraphium.¡± Omet sighed. ¡°Can¡¯t I just learn things under normal circumstances?¡± Horan nodded dejectedly. ¡°I wish, dude. I don¡¯t know how the Seraphium works, and Deus doesn¡¯t like people asking. But however he managed to make it, it was able to pull Rachna from whatever hole he¡¯d made his home.¡± ¡°And it brought him back as that,¡± finished Kuravaan. ¡°We still don¡¯t know whether it was the Seraphium that did it or wherever he hid, because Rachna¡¯s been as tight-lipped about the whole thing as Deus.¡± Rachna stifled more laughter. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it won¡¯t work twice, it¡¯s their favorite stash now!¡± Horan sighed. ¡°Deus hasn¡¯t used the Seraphium since. Tucked it away where he said nobody would find it. According to him, because it even worked on him. Didn¡¯t feel like saying why that was an issue, but I¡¯m sure we can all imagine. Still not sure how he solved the rock-so-heavy-even-he-can¡¯t-lift-it debate, but at least we can hold it over his head now.¡± Kuravaan stepped between Horan and Rachna, who was still on the ground. ¡°Omnipotence paradox aside, that¡¯s all that the Aztec needs to know about the affair. Rachna now needs to be returned to his chambers until further notice, as that is the only place we can somewhat reliably keep him without incidents like this one. Evidently, that requires a little more work.¡± Omet helped Rachna to his feet. ¡°But this whole time, he¡­?¡± They decided not to continue that train of thought. Kuravaan snapped, summoning three Indians forward from the group to drag Rachna back down to the basement. The Primus made no effort to resist, absent-mindedly chuckling to himself. Kuravaan waited until Rachna had been taken away before turning back to Horan, who now had Omet standing next to him. ¡°Alright, um¡­ This information regarding Rachna and his condition is not to leave this building, is that understood? This is our business, and your Domains have no need to interfere in it.¡± Horan grinned and shrugged. ¡°Oh, sure, we¡¯ll keep it all hush-hush¡­ If you swear that regardless of whatever might happen for the rest of me and Omet¡¯s stay here, you will assist their Domain with its current issues anyway?¡± Kuravaan visibly held back the urge to grit his teeth. ¡°...Yes, of course. We¡¯d be more than willing.¡± ¡°Say the words, Kuravaan.¡± ¡°...We swear that we and our Domain shall see our currently-affirmed duties to the end, regardless of how your presence within our home makes us feel about pursuing such an endeavor, provided you do not mention anything related to Rachna to anyone not currently present to witness this.¡± ¡°There we go, nice and straightforward.¡± Kuravaan left in a huff, muttering something under his breath. Slowly but surely, the other Indians cleared out of the library, leaving Omet and Horan alone. Horan turned to Omet, a wide grin plastered across his face. ¡°...And that is how you make the best out of a bad situation. Take notes, dude.¡± Omet rubbed their arm. ¡°I¨C I feel gross. For a lot of reasons. Do you think we should do something about Rachna? Where were they keeping him?¡± Horan¡¯s grin swiftly faded. ¡°Yeah, um, that¡¯s definitely worrying, and I feel a lot worse about coming to these guys, but... But you know what? Aside from the extremely worrying reveal of why I haven¡¯t seen Rachna in two millennia, I¡¯d call that a good turnout for my surveillance efforts, overall. Remind me to thank Quet for caring about my five thousandth, six hundred and thirty-n¡­ yeah, thirty-ninth birthday. I sure didn¡¯t.¡± After a pause, he went for the room¡¯s exit, still trying to straighten out his slightly ruffled hair. ¡°But yeah, that whole deal did kill the mood. I¡¯ll, uh, I¡¯ll go help the Indians figure out a dress code, you can go back to...¡± He squinted at Omet¡¯s open notebook on the other side of the room. ¡°Whatever your ¡®project¡¯ is meant to be. Ha¨C have fun.¡± He hurried out of sight. Now alone, Omet sat back down, pushed Rachna¡¯s chair away and ran a hand through their hair. ¡°How does he handle it all¡­?¡± ¡°Poorly.¡± Omet turned to see Rachna¡¯s face inches from theirs, his dark blue eyes bathing them in the same color. Omet fell out of their chair in surprise, recoiling away from Rachna, who was splayed against the nearby bookshelf like a spider. Omet stared at him in shock for a moment, before slowly lifting a finger to point at him. ¡°...Were your eyes always that color?¡± Chapter 16 Suleman was brought near the northern edge of the city by Esparza, who handed him a ceremonial-looking cape. ¡°Huntmaster¡¯s garb, for special occasions. Can¡¯t have you looking like too much of a shambles the first time you meet Torch in the flesh, right?¡± Suleman struggled to put on the cape. ¡°This seems a little short-notice, don¡¯t you think? Shouldn¡¯t they visit me before making their big public entrance? To make sure that things are in order for a ceremony? That¡¯s how things are normally done, I think.¡± Esparza shrugged and grinned. ¡°Oh, where¡¯s the fun in that? Just think of it like a surprise inspection, to see how you¡¯ve been doing for the five hours you¡¯ve been here. Torch has business here, and this is just a pit stop for them.¡± ¡°H¡­ How do you know all this? I wasn¡¯t informed about what they plan to do here, why were you?¡± Esparza gave Suleman an exasperated, condescending glare. ¡°You think I got this job by putting in overtime? I¡¯ve got connections, and that¡¯s all you really need to know.¡± They slapped Suleman uncomfortably hard in the chest. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got this. Don¡¯t make too big a fool out of yourself, and you most likely won¡¯t be fired on your first day. Nothing big.¡± They stepped away and gestured at the assembly of Servants growing nearby. ¡°But now, you¡¯ve got cats to herd. I¡¯ll be watching!¡± And with that, they vanished into the crowd. - The entire city was filing out to greet Torch, it seemed. Mark and Waia were swept up in the growing crowd of Servants as they rolled towards the highway leading in from the north, like a very slow stampede. Mark glanced over his shoulder. The rear of the crowd was apparently being backed up by the half of the Servants¡¯ stock of vehicles, with the entire road being taken up with the same military-grade armor that he had seen the Servants with before. However, he noticed that behind the tanks and APCs, the additional vehicles were much more ramshackle, with machine guns mounted from the sunroofs of civilian cars plated with improvised armor. The crowd was parted in two via copious gesturing and shouting by an elderly, caped individual standing in the middle of the road, with each half being directed to stand in a two-person-deep line on either side of the road. The flow of the crowd pulled Mark and Waia to the left-hand line, where they ended up standing near the halfway point of the procession, right at the back. The Servants who found their place in line quickly stood to attention, which was immediately mirrored by Mark. Waia, meanwhile, took a moment to get the posture right, and began to fidget almost immediately. The old man in the cape, who was giving Mark an inexplicable sense of d¨¦j¨¤-vu, walked down the fifteen-foot-wide aisle of Servants, glancing along the lines to make sure everyone was adequately arrayed. He finally came to rest at the end of the aisle furthest from the city¡¯s edge, standing with his arms behind his back in front of the numerous vehicles which now formed the rear line of the procession. ¡°Alright, everyone! Best behavior!¡± With everyone now in line, the hundreds-strong crowd stood still and quiet, waiting for their leader¡¯s promised arrival. The waiting took a bit longer than planned. People started to get antsy, standing to attention for so long. Somehow, nobody noticed the sound of an approaching helicopter until it had almost already landed. The skeletal cargo helicopter descended upon the wide-open street with a shipping container affixed to its ribcage-like underside. While the vehicle gingerly touched down and turned the dusty street into a miniature sandstorm, a hooded figure with a longsword on their back stepped out of the passenger-side door and dropped to the ground while the helicopter was still a foot above the ground. The helicopter touched down, released the container from its clamped-in position with a series of clicks, then promptly took back off with a curt gesture from the figure on the ground. Once the wind had settled and the assembled Servants took their hands away from their faces, the figure drew their voluminous cloak around their body. ¡°Greetings, Servants of Cuernavaca. I assume I need no introduction.¡± Both lines of Servants erupted into ecstatic cheers, then began moving towards Torch from two sides. Once again, Mark and Waia were swept up in the tide, and found themselves trying not to get trampled as Torch was swarmed with the intensity of a superstar. Torch silently pulled their cloak out of reach of the nearest Servants as people tried to touch them from all sides. They nodded at a nearby masked Huntsman, then waved the crowd to either side so that passage could be made for the Huntsman and several of his colleagues. A ring of bodyguards formed around Torch, which gestured for the crowd to give Torch plenty of space. Waia found herself bumping up against one of the Huntsmen as she tried to get close to Torch under the cover of the crowd. She was about to shove the guard aside when she froze in her tracks. Torch was looking directly at her over the guard¡¯s shoulder, the slit of their pearlescent mask boring into her like a single serpentine eye. The guard shoved a paralyzed Waia back into the mass of Servants, and Torch looked away. The other caped person tried to yell above the dying-out cheers, and frantically waved the crowd back into the original position on either side of the road. Once his voice had already given out, the crowd of Servants complied and moved back to the edges. The individual people weren¡¯t quite in the same positions, however. Mark noticed that Waia was no longer next to him. He looked around the two lines of Servants for her, and managed to lock eyes with the Primus from across the street. He tried to gesture for her to join up with him while the last few Servants were still finding a place in line, but she shrugged at him and looked at the hoarse old man at the far side of the street from Torch, who was struggling to regain his composure. Torch waved the Huntsman guards to go back to their original spots, then cleared their throat and spoke again. ¡°Now that you have all regained control of yourselves, I would like to begin.¡± They looked back at the shipping container behind them. ¡°During my trip south to your outpost, my pilot and I managed to capture a rogue Primus, one of the thousand children of the Chinese Domain.¡± Another round of cheering, but this one was thankfully much briefer and didn¡¯t involve anyone leaving their spot. Once silence had been regained, Torch hesitantly continued. ¡°I would prefer if silence was observed while I spoke. As I was about to say, my pilot was instructed to radio one of the city¡¯s Chosen keepers in advance. They should be arriving soon.¡± Torch went still as a statue after saying what they had wanted to say. Mark, along with many of the Servants around him, found their eyes drawn to the shipping container. A small portion of the container¡¯s side was bulging outwards, the painted surface rippling like disturbed water. Several Servants raised their arms and called out to gain Torch¡¯s attention and pointed at the disturbance. Torch looked over their shoulder at the metal lump, which was now beginning to produce the sound of buckling metal. After a moment of staring, they began strolling towards the growing bulge. ¡°Everyone present is to avert their eyes, this many people looking directly at a Primus is likely to grow to become a problem.¡± They stopped in front of the bulge, which looked like it could burst apart at any moment. In a single deft motion, they unslung their sword from their back and buried it up to the crossguard in the metal. The bulge immediately retreated back into line with the rest of the container, as if it had never been pushed outwards in the first place. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Torch pulled their sword out of the container, which revealed a blade stained with streaks of gold. A pale blue light flickered in the vague resemblance of a pattern halfway up the blade, and the gold sloughed off and coagulated at Torch¡¯s feet. Once their sword was clean, Torch slung the sword over their back and looked at a truck slowly making its way through the wall of parked vehicles at the end of the street. Something was thrashing inside the trailer, making the wheeled box rock from side to side as it was pulled forward. Torch held a hand up, and the truck came to a halt. Torch looked back at the shipping container. ¡°I will make clear that I was unaware of the abilities possessed by the captive Primus, and while it is regrettable that the prisoner refused to accept execution in a more ceremonial manner, at least it was intelligent enough to not attempt to escape while airborne. Keep that Chosen on hand, however. It will soon see use regardless. Huntmaster.¡± Suleman, who had been lost in thought while staring at the shaking trailer, snapped back to attention. ¡°Y¨C A¨C Yes, m¨C uh, Torch.¡± Torch strode over to where Suleman stood and produced a folder of documents. Suleman wasn¡¯t sure where it had come from, or if Torch had just been holding it the whole time and he somehow hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°All information regarding your directives as Huntmaster and how to accomplish them are contained herein. I am required elsewhere for the duration of this mission of yours, but I will be watching nonetheless.¡± Once Suleman took the folder, Torch took a few steps around him, as if to continue along the street and into the city, before stopping and turning their head slightly to look back at the Huntmaster. ¡°One more thing for you to be aware of: An additional Primus has recently infiltrated the ranks of your city. Unless you are apathetic towards such a weakness within your numbers, and unconcerned with the potentially catastrophic results of having a Primus among this many people, it is recommended that you remove the culprit before embarking upon the final stages of the Servants¡¯ mission. You will note the rather strict deadlines within the documentation.¡± Suleman stared down at the folder and stammered. ¡°I¨C I don¡¯t¨C How do you¨C?¡± But when he turned to try and look at Torch, all that remained of them was a few spots of blue on the edges of Suleman¡¯s vision. Suleman turned to the Servant who had climbed out of the truck transporting the Chosen. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long it takes to do safely, but I want that thing out here immediately.¡± He looked around at the Huntsmen scattered around the fringes of the bifurcated crowd. ¡°Huntsmen, I don¡¯t want a single person here to move an inch from where he¡¯s standing, we¡¯re finding this Primus now!¡± The masked Huntsmen nodded and looked around at the rows of people close to them, unslinging their shotguns in preparation. Several more descended from their vantage points on the surrounding rooftops and emerged onto the street, peering at the lined-up crowd with their dark, alien goggles. Waia looked around at the Huntsmen hemming in the civilian Servants. Coming close enough to Torch for them to see her had turned out to be an issue. But if they had recognized her, wouldn¡¯t they have given Suleman identifying information? Mark, meanwhile, looked all around the street for anything that he could use to get Waia away from danger. The extreme thinness of the crowd she was in made that a very difficult prospect. The truck was slowly spun around in its spot just in front of the rest of the Servants¡¯ vehicles, so that the back end of its trailer was pointed along the length of the two lines of people. Ten wheel clamps were removed from the truck¡¯s passenger seat and fastened to each of the wheels of the truck and its trailer. While the clamps were being affixed, Mark began to hear a growing buzzing come from inside the trailer, one which instilled a hint of primal, unthinking fear inside him. Once the truck was locked in place, the bolt holding the trailer¡¯s doors shut was carefully removed and one of the doors was pulled open a sliver. A bony, horse-sized insectoid creature burst from the trailer, only held in place by a chain affixed inside the trailer door, which threatened to rip the door from its hinges in its mission to hold the Chosen in place. The Chosen strained against the collar that still connected it to the truck, darting through the air on humming wings and nearly making the clamped-down truck topple over. While the on-hand Servants tried to get the Chosen under control, Waia squinted at it. She recalled something very reminiscent of the fleshy insect in front of her burning down Honoka¡¯a during Torch¡¯s visit. That settled it in her mind, someone had put things in place just to mess with her here. Suleman gazed up at the frantic monstrosity, the draft made by its thrumming wings lifting his cape off of the ground. ¡°I was told that the Chosen have a, um, a knack for sniffing out those aligned against the Servants, yes?¡± The Servant who had delivered the Chosen nodded slowly. ¡°Remarkable, isn¡¯t it? Torch has granted the finest of our number the power to sense their enemies¡¯ very presence. How I wish I could ask Torch how th¨C¡± ¡°Yes, yes, you can give me the brochure later.¡± Suleman waved at the Chosen¡¯s captors. ¡°Make it start searching, quick.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not going to stop at just finding this infiltrator, don¡¯t worry.¡± The Chosen keeper held up a small remote control. ¡°Trust me, the hardest part of all this will be putting the collar back on.¡± Mark didn¡¯t have a plan to get Waia out of danger, he wasn¡¯t even close to getting one. When the back of his mind returned with an answer to where he knew the old man in the cape from, he decided he didn¡¯t need a plan. He shouldered his way to the front of the line and waved for the people around the truck to stop. ¡°Hey, hey, okay, no need to make a scene! I¡¯m here!¡± The feeling of hundreds of eyes on him immediately made Mark regret his intervention. Thankfully, the sudden attention included both the keeper with the remote, and Suleman. Suleman squinted at Mark. ¡°So y¨C¡± He froze, eyes wide. ¡°H¡­ Y¨C You¡­?¡± Mark went down on his knees and folded his hands behind his head. ¡°Can you put that thing away? The buzzing¡¯s starting to make my ears ring.¡± Suleman looked around at the assembled Servants, but didn¡¯t see any hints of recognition. ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡± ¡°I literally can¡¯t make this any easier for you, put the dragonfly away and take me to apocalypse jail or something.¡± Mark noticed Waia peering over a Servant¡¯s shoulder. Though she remained subtle enough to avoid drawing too much attention to herself, she still looked between Mark and the Servants around the truck in a manner that quite effectively conveyed confusion. Keeping his hand behind his back, Mark waved Waia down, then flared his fingers out three times. Just to be sure, he mouthed ¡°Fifteen minutes¡± to her as inconspicuously as he could. Waia narrowed her eyes, nodded, and moved back into the crowd with the hints of a smile on her face. A Huntsman reached Mark and pulled him to his feet, pinning his arms behind his back while his rolling pin-shaped gun and knife were removed from his belt. Weapons in their free hand, the Huntsman pushed Mark towards Suleman. As he was brought forward, Mark noticed the Chosen getting even more agitated, straining desperately at its chains before Suleman grimaced and signaled for it to be corralled back into the trailer. Mark half-heartedly tried to shrug off the Huntsman¡¯s grip on his arms before looking Suleman dead in the eye and struggling to resist grinning like an idiot. ¡°Good to see you recognize me too, I was worried that it¡¯s been too long. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve got a few questions for a guy like me, so how about we spend a little while on that before we get to the messy part?¡± Suleman looked over Mark¡¯s shoulder and once again scanned the curious crowd, but came up with nothing. He hesitantly looked back at Mark, then at the Huntsman restraining him. ¡°...Are they questions that I would rather know?¡± ¡°Yeah, probably. So, you mind telling my chauffeur here¨C¡± Mark nodded back at the Huntsman. ¡°¨Cwhere to take me for that? Maybe enunciate a little, it can¡¯t be easy to hear under that gas mask.¡± He turned to face the Huntsman. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡± The Huntsman shrugged and held their thumb and forefinger close together. ¡°At least I can talk to a few people here,¡± mumbled Mark. Suleman sighed. ¡°Right, yes, you¡¯re right.¡± He made eye contact with the Huntsman¡¯s goggles. ¡°Take him to my¡­ office? Is that what we call it? Do we have a fancy hunt-themed word for where Huntmasters live?¡± The Huntsman pushed Mark past the convoy and down the road. Suleman gave the crowd one more scan before waving them away. ¡°That¡¯ll be all, everyone, you can go back to what you were doing now!¡± As the convoy dispersed to let the crowd pass back into the main part of the city, Waia spotted a Servant wearing a watch and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, what time is it?¡± The Servant glanced at his wrist. ¡°Quarter past Eleven.¡± ¡°No, I mean the exact time.¡± The Servant held out his arm for Waia to check herself. The watch face displayed 15:13:41. ¡°Great, thanks.¡± Waia jogged off back to the house that she and Mark had been staying in. Mark was probably doing something poorly thought-out, but she decided to humor him. His timer started now. Chapter 17 Horan pushed the door to Kuravaan¡¯s study slightly ajar and knocked with his free hand. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s Horan.¡± Obscured by the door, Kuravaan sighed. ¡°Come in.¡± Horan opened the door all the way and saw Kuravaan sliding a drawer shut behind a desk on the opposite end of the square, high-ceilinged room. Horan glanced around at the neat shelves of unlabelled books on either side of the room. ¡°...A study. Didn¡¯t really see you as the type.¡± Kuravaan looked down and shielded his eyes. ¡°What do you want, Horan?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡­¡± In lieu of a spare seat by Kuravaan¡¯s desk, Horan opted to hover mid-air with his legs folded. ¡°I was going to go help the rest of the Domain figure out what to wear, but I realized on the way that that would be unwanted and probably creepy. I also don¡¯t want Omet to think I¡¯m clingy by coming back immediately after I said I¡¯d give them some space, so I¡¯m here now.¡± ¡°This is about Rachna, isn¡¯t it?¡± Horan¡¯s already stiff posture seemed to tighten up even further. ¡°Well, um, a little, but I know¨C¡± ¡°Naturally.¡± Kuravaan stood up and walked around his desk. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± He paused abruptly and composed himself for a moment. ¡°We know you¡¯re primarily tempted to bring it out as blackmail material if we decide not to help you with your current issue, as it were.¡± Horan lowered himself back onto the ground and reflexively straightened his hair again. ¡°Well, that¡¯s still something that Omet and I were figuring out, but I know¨C¡± ¡°There won¡¯t be any need for that,¡± said Kuravaan, folding his hands behind his back. ¡°Our Domain is humoring your summons because of our own reasons, though we certainly aren¡¯t already married to the decision. You can pretend that this is some sort of power play where you have this arsenal of diplomacy and coercion at your disposal, but we¡¯re well aware that we are the one with options, not you and the Aztec. We would recommend you try not to cause a scene while you¡¯re here, like the Aztec suggested.¡± Horan looked up at Kuravaan, the minute movements of his eyelids betraying the fact that he was looking for any excuse not to make eye contact. ¡°We suppose you may now explain what it is that you know. Or would you rather not dig yourself any deeper of a hole?¡± ¡°Yeah, no, I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll go.¡± Horan backed away from Kuravaan and left the study, closing the door behind him. He rounded a corner before collapsing on the hard floor and staring up at the clouds above him. - Omet twiddled a pencil in one hand while staring at the notebook in front of them. They glanced over at Rachna, who hung by his knees from a shelf that should not have been able to support his weight. ¡°You got anything that rhymes with ¡®care¡¯? I need three words.¡± ¡°Bear, stare, aware, despair, rare-fair-fare-dare-square-pear¡­¡± multiple human mouths sprouted from Rachna¡¯s arms and formed a rhyming chorus as he rattled off words too fast for Omet to follow. After a moment, the voices stopped and the mouths closed back up into Rachna¡¯s bare skin, their purpose fulfilled. Rachna grinned smugly. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what you want to hear, isn¡¯t it, buddy?¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°I guess I can use¨C¡± ¡°Shush, I¡¯m having a conversation.¡± Rachna stared blankly in no particular direction before his pale blue eyes snapped back into focus and switched to a silvery light. ¡°Yeah, attention¡¯s elsewhere. Makes sense, the ol¡¯ husk is getting piloted. Now, you were saying?¡± Omet tried to catch the attention of another Indian on the other side of the library, who was hunched over a thin paperback. ¡°Hey, so, you gave up on keeping this guy in his, uh¡­?¡± The Indian tried to avoid making eye contact with Omet. Rachna shrugged and dropped from the shelf. ¡°Eh, they know when to take a loss. I kind of miss being alone down there, though. At least then, I know the things I see in front of me aren¡¯t real.¡± Omet pursed their lips. ¡°I still feel like you¡¯d be better off getting some help besides being locked in the basement.¡± Rachna snorted. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not me that needs help right now. You get what I¡¯m talking about.¡± ¡°...I don¡¯t?¡± Rachna groaned and fell face-down onto the ground. ¡°Ugh, why do third eyes have to be so annoying? I don¡¯t wanna have to start from the beginning just to make sure we¡¯re on the same page every time, we¡¯ll be here for hours!¡± He suppressed a cackle. ¡°And we¡¯ve run out of time like that. My ¡®siblings¡¯, if that is their real name, can sic me on as many Bug-eyes as they want, but those aren¡¯t what¡¯s hunting them¡­¡± Omet heard a tentative throat-clearing behind them and turned to see Horan standing over them. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back? I figured anything involving clothes would take a while with you.¡± Horan wrung his hands. ¡°Yeah, I, uh, I wasn¡¯t much help¡­ Can I sit down here with you?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure, go ahead.¡± Omet pulled out a second chair from the round table that they were sitting at. Horan took a seat and slouched forward, his head cushioned by his folded arms. He looked to the side and saw Rachna lying on the floor. ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°The worms come for us all, regardless of what it says on the tin.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Okay.¡± Horan looked back ahead, though didn¡¯t focus on anything in particular. Omet scratched out a line in their notepad and tapped Horan on the shoulder. ¡°Getting tired?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Yeah, I get it.¡± Omet leaned back in their seat and rubbed their eyes. ¡°Have you been getting the feeling of just being wrong in this place, or is that just me?¡± Horan craned his neck to bring Omet within his limited field of vision. After a second of staring, he scoffed. ¡°Sorry, I¨CI shouldn¡¯t be so quiet.¡± ¡°Nah, don¡¯t talk if you don¡¯t want to.¡± Omet furrowed their brow. ¡°Uh, considering how much you¡¯ve been apologizing over nothing big, I¡¯m feeling like the answer to my question is a firm yes. Got anything to contest that?¡± Horan sighed and broke eye contact with Omet. ¡°This is¡­ This is supposed to be what I¡¯m good at. This is supposed to be easy.¡± Omet glanced down at their notebook and held it close to their chest. ¡°And that¡¯s according to who, exactly?¡± ¡°Wha¨C?!¡± Horan sat up straight and glanced at the Indians watching the two of them intently before lowering his voice. ¡°According to me. I¡¯ve done this kind of thing with the Indians dozens of times over the last two and a half millennia, and it¡¯s usually just¡­¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°But you were definitely there with that ¡®wrong¡¯ feeling. The people here don¡¯t usually talk to you unless you come up to them, but at least they talk at all. I think this is what human high school is supposed to feel like, not a situation like this¡­¡± Omet raised their eyebrows. ¡°Do they have some reason to be doing that, or am I right in thinking that we shouldn¡¯t bring these people home?¡± ¡°No, no, we¡­¡± Horan stammered incoherently for a moment. ¡°We still need this. We need these people if we¡¯re gonna be safe. That¡¯s¡­ We¡¯ve seen how we can¡¯t deal with these kinds of things safely.¡± ¡°But can I just ask you something? I don¡¯t mean anything on your end, but¡­ What exactly do you see in these people that makes you think that they¡¯re our saving grace in all this? Because all I¡¯ve seen is a bunch of fake aristocrats who are treating us like zoo exhibits and a weekend distraction.¡± Omet raised their voice for the sake of everyone else in the room. ¡°And they can act as nice as they want, but they¡¯re still not being subtle about this!¡± Horan desperately shushed Omet. ¡°Okay, okay, I¡­ I get it. But keep your head down, we can¡¯t afford to blow this. It¡¯s basically just me, you and them left to¨C¡± ¡°Us and them.¡± Horan stared at Omet for too long of a moment. ¡°...Sure. Us and them. It¡¯s just us and them left out there, and I¡¯ve been running lower and lower on chances to get bailed out, and I¡¯d rather not put you all between myself and an angry mob who¡¯ve upgraded from torches and rusty pitchforks.¡± Omet sighed and looked at Horan with an emotion that he couldn¡¯t pin down exactly. ¡°I appreciate the sentiment, I do, but my family doesn¡¯t need to try and rope in people who seem to be trying to make this as difficult as possible. It¡¯s not safe for us, but we can¡¯t exactly change that, and if the only alternatives are being done for the sake of doing them without any actual benefits, we should be fighting our own battles.¡± ¡°No, they shouldn¡¯t.¡± Horan cradled his head in his hands. ¡°This comes with the territory of being in charge. Nobody has any control over who gets set up with the job, but regardless, this is something we need to deal with. We¡¯re the face of our Domains, we deal with what has to be dealt with, we get blamed when things go wrong, and the world keeps turning.¡± After a moment, Omet opened up their notebook and absent-mindedly flipped between the first couple of pages. ¡°Sounds like a rough deal.¡± ¡°You get used to it.¡± ¡°I would guess so.¡± Omet put the notebook aside and folded their arms. ¡°So let me ask again, but now in a broader sense: Why are we doing this?¡± Horan stared at Omet incredulously. ¡°Why¡­ Because someone needs to, dude. Things are easier for everyone involved when a whole group of several dozen Primoi can get put into a person-shaped box, so everyone else is going to do that whether you like it or not. That¡¯s all the Breezy Slide is, you¡¯re just turning that fact of life into an advantage for yourself.¡± Omet shrugged and grasped Horan¡¯s arm. ¡°So you¡¯re just doing this yourself? We¡¯re supposed to be a team, by your reckoning.¡± ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m the one with experience here, I need to do this for you because we don¡¯t have the chance to put on training wheels, let alone whether or not that¡¯s even possible.¡± Omet leaned in slightly closer to Horan, trying to block themselves from the earshot of the visibly uncomfortable Indians in the room. ¡°It sounded earlier like you¡¯re not really doing so well right now, so I don¡¯t think this lone-wolf strategy is working out too hot.¡± ¡°It has before,¡± mumbled Horan. ¡°Feels like I¡¯ve gone soft at some point, this is what I¡¯m supposed to bring to the table, I¡¯m the guy who¡¯s good at talking, and¡­¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to bring anything to the table here, Horan,¡± said Omet, ¡°you just need¨C¡± ¡°I need to what, Omet?¡± Horan sat up straight and looked Omet in the eye. ¡°I get that you¡¯re trying to make me stop stressing about this, sure, but we don¡¯t have that kind of luxury. I need to¨C We both need to do what we can as leaders and stop worrying about what we want to do in the short term, because the alternative risks you getting killed, and then there won¡¯t be anyone left to blame but me. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here, in case you were still curious. Got it?¡± Omet¡¯s attempt at a calm demeanour faltered and they looked away from Horan. ¡°Just... Promise me that next time something comes up, we solve this as a team, okay?¡± Horan folded his arms and shrugged. ¡°My promises might be unbreakable, but not when they¡¯re that vague.¡± ¡°...So can you stick to it because you want to and not because you have to?¡± ¡°Seeing as how this isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve made that promise in recent memory, that doesn¡¯t seem likely. Doesn¡¯t matter if anyone is happy about it, but this is just how things are. This is my job, this is why I¡¯m useful, and no amount of empty words are going to change that. And if you think you can succeed in fixing what five millennia¡¯s sum total can¡¯t, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re being the wrong kind of optimist.¡± Omet searched for words for a moment. ¡°And, uh... I¡¯m not gonna be changing your mind any time soon, right?¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter how much I want to believe what you¡¯re saying about how I don¡¯t need to worry about any of my responsibilities and I¡¯ve had the wrong idea for longer than you¡¯ve been alive, that doesn¡¯t make you right.¡± ¡°Sounds pretty decisive to me.¡± Omet gathered their notebook and pencil before standing up. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up on you yet¨C¡± ¡°I appreciate it, but reconsider.¡± ¡°¨Cbut you¡¯re probably right about how we shouldn¡¯t be making a scene like this.¡± Omet glanced at the Indians elsewhere in the room and silently hoped that they hadn¡¯t been too loud. ¡°Let me just see if there¡¯s somewhere else for me to sit, a change of scenery is a good idea anyway.¡± They turned to address Rachna halfway to the library¡¯s exit. ¡°And don¡¯t even think about...¡± But Rachna was already gone. Horan¡¯s gaze traced the immaculate grain of the table. Not being in the same room as Omet was probably a good idea after that debacle, but he soon realized that he didn¡¯t have much of an idea of what he was supposed to do now. Chapter 18 Suleman laid the folder that Torch had given him on top of a filing cabinet in the bottom floor of the Servants¡¯ center of operations, then pointed at it while looking at one of the Huntsmen who had accompanied him and Mark. ¡°Watch it, I¡¯ll come down for it in a few minutes.¡± He raised his voice for the sake of everyone in the room. ¡°And can somebody bring a chair and some rope up to the third floor for me? Thank you!¡± Mark was led up three floors before arriving at an empty, dingy room, featureless save for two windows on a single wall that looked out over the disheveled city. The two Servants that accompanied Mark dumped his knife and gun in the corner before standing to attention on either side of the room¡¯s only door. A few moments later, a single folding chair and a length of rope was brought up and used to restrain Mark in the middle of the room. Suleman stood in front of Mark, hands behind his back. Mark struggled to suppress laughter. ¡°Oh, man, you must really be a fan of this tied-to-chair thing, huh? That¡¯s both times we¡¯ve met now, that you¡¯ve done it.¡± Suleman narrowed his eyes. ¡°Why and how are you here?¡± Mark cleared his throat and attempted to wipe the smile off his face. ¡°I mean, I could honestly say the same to you. It¡¯s been a decent seven or eight months since the last time I saw you on the other side of the world, and I¡¯ll be honest, I didn¡¯t really expect a guy who called himself ¡®high prophet¡¯ to become a bootlicker for someone else. Eh, I guess it makes a little sense. Cult game recognizes cult game, am I right?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll ask again: Why and how did you get here?¡± Mark attempted to shrug, which was made difficult by the rope holding his arms in place. ¡°Oh, yeah, it¡¯s a whole thing, too long to get into. You get roped into some wild stuff with friends like mine. And how exactly did you get from Turkey to here?¡± ¡°I was brought here under the direct order of Torch,¡± said Suleman, ¡°leader of the Servants of Reckoning.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve heard of ¡®em. They¡¯ve built up quite the reputation for themself. You know anything about them, or are they just always as creepy and mysterious as they were ten minutes ago?¡± Suleman sighed with frustration. ¡°You can mock them all you want, but they are doing good things for the world, and I would recommend that you consider them more seriously than you do the people who destroyed the world.¡± Mark scoffed. ¡°If I recall, the world was destroyed by the old countries pulling a ¡®mutually assured destruction¡¯ on each other. Sure, Deus started the whole chain of dominoes, but he definitely didn¡¯t finish it.¡± ¡°You know the Primus who did all this?¡± ¡°I know of him,¡± stated Mark. ¡°If it helps, taking most of humanity and vanishing didn¡¯t score him any gold stars from anyone I¡¯ve met.¡± ¡°Right, yes.¡± Suleman folded his arms. ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s the Servants disbanded. I mean, if the only reason we think Primoi in general are dangerous is because they have regularly taken the opportunity to raid and strongarm defenseless communities for the fun of it, and have also raised entire armies to violently conquer the entire Middle East, as I know you¡¯ve seen, then we must just be overreacting. Right?¡± ¡°¡­Yeah, most of them suck.¡± Suleman nodded and leaned forward. ¡°If you feel like joining the side that actually wants to help people, you can start by telling me where your friend is.¡± Mark glanced out the nearest window. ¡°Who, Horan?¡± ¡°Yes, him. I know he¡¯s here.¡± ¡°Nope. Cross my heart, he¡¯s nowhere near here.¡± Suleman scowled. ¡°Right, so when Torch informed me that there was a Primus in this city, that Primus is completely unrelated to the person in this city who I know is connected to one Primus in particular? Is that right?¡± ¡°I dunno what to tell you, Horan isn¡¯t anywhere near here. You can hook me up to one of those¡­ phonograph things. Telegraph? What are lie detectors called?¡± ¡°Then who is here?¡± Mark struggled to shrug again. ¡°Have you considered that if Torch tells you that there¡¯s a Primus in the city, but inexplicably can¡¯t or won¡¯t give you any more information or tell you how they know this, they might just be messing with you?¡± Suleman closed his eyes and took a deep breath before responding. ¡°The Servants have humanity¡¯s best interests at heart, so we won¡¯t just kill you for fraternizing with the enemy. I am giving you plenty of chances to realize that you aren¡¯t helping anyone with what you¡¯re currently doing. I am going to provide this city¡¯s Huntsmen with a description of Horan, and if we find him and it turns out you have been lying to cover for him, I might rethink that policy. Is that clear?¡± ¡°Go ahead. Nothing to hide, nothing to lose.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Suleman turned to leave the room, but stopped when he heard Mark clear his throat behind him. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± said Mark, ¡°could you tell me what exactly Torch has done to earn this level of blind trust? Because I see a spooky masked stranger showing up to give mysterious orders and then immediately leaving, and all my alarm bells go off. I¡¯ve got a nose for untrustworthy authority figures. I ratted you out back in the day, after all, and you and your last sacrificial cult proved to be such calm and reasonable people.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Suleman scowled disdainfully and opened the door. ¡°So, what, that¡¯s it for the interrogation? I know whatever your job pre-whatever-you-people-call-all-this didn¡¯t bring it up much, but trust me, these questionings don¡¯t last for...¡± Mark glanced at the Huntsman at the door, the one that had restrained him. ¡°...How long have we been up here?¡± The Huntsman checked their wrist and held up four fingers, partially extending a fifth. ¡°Four and a bit minutes! That¡¯s less time than it took to escort me here! C¡¯mon, there¡¯s no way that you only want to know where Horan is. If I saw myself in Mexico of all places, my biggest challenge would be figuring out what to ask first!¡± Suleman exchanged a look with the Huntsman who had answered Mark before approaching him once more. ¡°And what exactly made you decide to make this take longer?¡± A third attempt at a shrug. ¡°Well, when a guy like me willingly gives himself up, it means he¡¯s looking for gains of his own. I¡¯ve got a few of my own questions, and while you haven¡¯t exactly been a pinata of cult secrets, it¡¯s worth giving you a few extra shots.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not doing that.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not doing that consensually. I have my ways. Probably.¡± Suleman sighed. ¡°You¡¯re working for someone, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°There, see? You do have more questions.¡± ¨C Several blocks away from where Mark was being held, Waia shuffled back into the building that she and Mark had been hiding in a few minutes earlier. She held the door open for the building''s other inhabitants. One of the Servants collapsed on the fraying sofa. ¡°So Bug-eyes was a Primus, just like that? Glad we got him early, at least...¡± She looked over at Waia. ¡°Hey, did you know about that?¡± Waia sat down next to the Servant. ¡°Nope. Hey, you got a watch?¡± The Servant displayed the battered timepiece on her left wrist. ¡°Thanks for asking, it was a gift I got for my son before he, you know...¡± Another Servant leaned over the back of the couch. ¡°Hey, either of you two seen Manuel? I don''t think he came to the lineup with us.¡± ¡°I heard him in the attic a while back,¡± said Waia, before turning back to the Servant next to her. ¡°Great. Cool. Can you just let me borrow that for five, ten minutes tops? I''m waiting for something, you can just put it next to me.¡± The Servant removed her watch and set it on the armrest next to Waia. ¡°Try not to break it,¡± she said with a small chuckle. ¡°M-hm.¡± Waia checked the time on the watch. Still another six minutes of waiting. She checked the watch again thirty seconds later. Thirty seconds had indeed passed. This was already in the running for the longest eight minutes of her life. Whatever, it would still be worth it soon. The Servant next to Waia tapped her on the shoulder. ¡°I, um, I got the impression that you and Bug-eyes knew each other. How did you find him? How, uh, how long did you know each other? Did you ever see him do anything suspiciou¨C?¡± ¡°Okay, cool it, I get it.¡± Waia sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve only known each other for a few days, we¡¯ve never gotten very close, so don¡¯t worry about it. If this was a big deal to me, I would¡¯ve let you know already.¡± ¡°O...kay...¡± The Servant¡¯s gaze flitted briefly to the side before immediately coming back to Waia. ¡°But you, um, y¨Cyou didn¡¯t tell me how you met, I heard most Primoi are out in the open with their whole, um, deal?¡± Waia groaned and looked away from the Servant. ¡°Can we not do this right now? I¡¯m too tired t¨C¡± She heard a click behind her and felt something cold press up against the nape of her neck. ¡°Oh, okay, we¡¯re doing this now.¡± The hand of the Servant holding the pistol against Waia was shaking dangerously. ¡°I¨CI saw him up there, in the attic... Wh¨Cwhat did you do to him?¡± Waia shrugged and leaned back into the sofa, which forced the Servant¡¯s arm to follow her movement. ¡°Eh, nothing much. Yet. He died of internal whatever, didn¡¯t he?¡± The Servant next to Waia crawled away from the couch, eyes fixed on Waia. For a brief second, she looked at the armed Servant. ¡°Who¡¯s in the att¨C Manuel? Did she do something to him?¡± ¡°She left him half-dead up there, from the looks of it,¡± said the Servant behind Waia, pushing the gun harder against her. ¡°You¡¯re still with Bug-eyes, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re one of them too, aren¡¯t you?!¡± ¡°Eh, I wouldn¡¯t say ¡®one of¡¯, that¡¯s giving ¡®Bug-eyes¡¯ the wrong kind of credit. He just took the fall for me so that I could be here with you all now. Isn¡¯t that sweet of him?¡± By now, the rest of the buildings inhabitants had filtered into the room, and were staring at the scene in shock. The Servant behind Waia held out his free hand. ¡°Okay, it¡¯s fine, nobody panic, I have this under control!¡± ¡°Nope,¡± mumbled Waia. ¡°Shut up! You might be a Primus, but I¡¯ve got a gun! So there!¡± ¡°Okay,¡± said Waia. ¡°Try to use it, if you feel like it. It¡¯s not gonna work, I¡¯m just gonna turn it into sludge.¡± The Servant trembled. ¡°I¨CI... You can¡¯t...¡± ¡°I can do whatever I want, buddy, it¡¯s not like you can stop me. You really should¡¯ve just pulled that trigger without trying to threaten me if you wanted this to work. Bullet probably would¡¯ve landed before I could tense up. Might still be able to, my reflexes can only do so much. But now you¡¯ve lost the element of surprise, so now you need to deal with the fact that you¡¯re touching me with a gunpowder-filled metal container. Last-minute advice: That¡¯s a pretty bad idea.¡± The gun exploded in a shower of red-hot slag, covering Waia¡¯s hair and the Servant¡¯s upper body in molten metal. The Servant shrieked in pain and fell backwards, desperately trying to wipe the remains of the gun off of his smoldering face and hands. ¡°Told you,¡± said Waia, grinning. She stood up and straightened her hair with one arm, which led to several flecks of slag falling on the couch and setting the upholstery on fire. Waia looked at the rest of the cowering Servants and folded her arms. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure that I could go ahead and do something similar to the rest of you, but let¡¯s be real here, there are more fulfilling uses of my time than¡­¡± She noticed one of the Servants holding a walkie-talkie, thumb hovering over the button in the middle. ¡°Ah, yeah, see? You¡¯re offering up an opportunity for me to blow my cover and get swarmed by your buddies. But, seeing as this isn¡¯t really something I can put on hold, I¡¯ll cut you a deal.¡± She shifted into her true form, her head now almost touching the ceiling. ¡°Let me blow my own cover for you.¡± Chapter 19 The sentinel guard¡¯s radio fizzed with static as it was connected to a civilian line. ¡°Home base, this is Firewalker. Do you copy? Over.¡± The guard sighed and leaned away from the edge of the apartment block¡¯s roof and picked up the receiver, looking at the building across the street that the signal was coming from. ¡°35 Ata¨´d Avenue, this is Cuernavaca Sentinel Unit 23. Please refrain from using the emergency radio for recreational purposes, repeated violations will result in demotion to scavenging du¨C¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, don¡¯t bother you while you¡¯re rooting for truffles, got it. Just thought I¡¯d bring up the local emergency to its first upcoming victim. This is Firewalker, under and up.¡± The radio cut out an instant before a dark shape flew up past the guard, too fast to make out. The guard heard the sound of cracking concrete coming from behind, then turned to see a colossal woman standing in the middle of a small crater on the roof, eyes burning with orange light and a grin plastered on her face. A crushed walkie-talkie fell from her hand. ¡°So nice to meet in person.¡± The guard immediately raised his shotgun and fired into the center of Waia¡¯s mass. The cloud of buckshot crumpled into a glowing mush upon contact with Waia¡¯s shirt, then began flowing up, past her shoulders in two even streams, down her arms, before finally dimming and hardening into a pair of solid metal gauntlets on Waia¡¯s hands. After a couple of seconds, the only sound left was the sound of the gunshot echoing through the city streets. The guard checked his pockets for a second magazine to replace the empty one, but Waia casually stepped aside and batted the gun off the roof with a single armored backhand. ¡°We¡¯re not doing that, no.¡± Without hesitation, the guard drew a knife and lunged for Waia¡¯s neck, only to be grabbed by the wrist and halted in place. Waia twisted the guard¡¯s arm and forced him to drop the knife, getting a good look at his watch in the process. How lucky was she, invading a city full of people who still wore watches. Examining the hands and not accounting for imperfect timekeeping, she was apparently four minutes and nine seconds ahead of schedule. ¡°Eh, close enough.¡± With her free hand, Waia delivered an uppercut straight into the guard¡¯s gut. The Servant went flying, soaring over the adjacent building like a shooting star. Waia wasn¡¯t far behind, having caught up with a single leap, grabbed the Servant by one leg and hurled him straight down into an old fire station. Waia fell through the hole created by the thrown Servant, examining the Servants who stood in shock around the fresh pile of debris. She held up an armored hand. ¡°Anyone here know where that Huntmaster guy is staying?¡± A younger-looking Servant looked for assistance from the Servants around her. ¡°Uh, he¡¯s¨C he¡¯s usually in the n¨Cnorth of the city?¡± She pointed to the wall behind her. ¡°Thanks.¡± Waia dived to the side and burst through the wall of the fire station, onto a wide street. A squad of Huntsmen, assembled as a response to the sound of gunfire, stopped in their tracks, pointing their shotguns at the Primus in front of them. Soon, armored vehicles followed in their tracks, arrayed in Waia''s path. Waia grinned and spread her arms wide. ¡°Good morning, Cuernavaca! If all you wonderful murderers wouldn¡¯t mind diverting all of your attention straight to me, I¡¯ve got a quick announcement before we get to the fun part!¡± The Servants on the street recoiled from Waia, crowding around the periphery and behind the armed Huntsmen. ¡°Yeah, that''s right! Get a good look at me before I get started! I just want you all to know that you can spin me some sob story about how this is all the fault of a bunch of people you haven''t even tried to bring real justice to, but it''s not gonna change my mind about this! You all started this, and now I''m gon¨C!¡± An ear-splitting crack heralded a tank shell roaring over the heads of the Servants of the ground and striking Waia in the forehead. In a reflexive attempt to stay upright, her anchored feet scraped two boiling trails in the asphalt as she was pushed back several feet from the force of the strike. The impact of the shell exploding in her face threw her head back and threatened to make her topple backwards, but she managed to right herself and step out of the three-inch-deep ditches that she had dug for herself. She wiped the molten iron out of her eyes with a laugh of ecstatic relief. ¡°Oh, it''s good to be back.¡± ¡°Vengeance scattered!¡± With a unified cry, the Servants released a volley of gunfire against Waia. The civilian Servants scattered out of the line of fire as the hail of lead melted harmlessly upon contact with Waia. Waia leapt forward through the air, cleaving through the leaden pellets with ease and slamming into the line of Huntsmen with meteoric force. Two Servants went flying immediately, and Waia ducked low and swept the legs of two more before anyone could turn their guns on her. Waia emerged from her crouch with another leap, ripping through half the remaining line and crashing into a brick wall on one side of the street. Waia let her feet sink half an inch into the shattered brick, stood up on the wall as if it was level ground, reached up to pull a nearby street light out of the sidewalk, and swung it at the Servants on the far side of the street. In a matter of seconds, the entire phalanx of Huntsmen had been swiped out of Waia''s path as if they were cardboard props. Waia saw the barrel of the tank that had once been protected by the Huntsmen swivel to lock onto her. Before it could get another shot off on her, she hurled the severed street light at the tank''s turret, bending the barrel into a misshapen, ineffectual tube. Waia let herself fall from the ruined wall. The tank desperately attempted to reverse away from her, but Waia caught up to it in a few brisk strides and grabbed it with both hands, the frontmost section of the vehicle crumpling with little effort. The squeal of treads still attempting to pull the tank away from Waia were cut short as she shifted her grip and lifted the tank up in the air. She heard a barely-audible thud as the vehicle''s crew slammed into the now downward-facing front of the tank''s interior. ¡°Now for the fun part,¡± mumbled Waia, flipping the tank upside-down in her grip. ¨C ¡°And from what I understand from an eyewitness source,¡± said Mark, ¡°you guys left the entire former state of Hawaii deserted through a combination of evacuation and systemic massacre, is that right?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Suleman sighed. ¡°Again, the Servants have turned to more radical methods to remove Primoi from a region, but from what I understand, all of Hawaii was being secretly controlled by the island''s Domain, just like in¨C¡± Crack. Suleman looked to the window to try and locate the source of the distant sound. ¡°...What?¡± A Servant was allowed through the room''s doorway by the two guards. ¡°Huntmaster, sir! We''re getting multiple reports of a Primus loose in the city and approaching this building!¡± Mark craned his neck to get a good view out of the nearby window. ¡°...Oh yeah, there she is. Well, I wasn''t expecting her to do this quiet, but that''s definitely louder than I predicted.¡± Suleman followed Mark''s gaze out the window. What appeared to be a damaged tank was flying upside-down through the air as if shot from a cannon, several hundred feet away. A dark speck followed caught up to the tank from where the vehicle had come from on the ground, lingered on top of it for a moment, then shot forward off the flying platform, the force of the separation sending the tank hurtling straight down and through the roof of a supermarket. Suleman watched the slowly-growing speck descend back down into the mass of dilapidated buildings on ground level, then turned back to the Servant who had delivered the alert. ¡°Contact every nearby military asset we have and get them here immediately!¡± The Servant gave a curt salute and ran back downstairs. ¡°One more quick observation before we get to all that, by the way,¡± said Mark. ¡°What now?!¡± Suleman whipped around to see Mark stand up from his chair, ropes falling off him and piling up around his feet. ¡°You suck at knots.¡± Suleman was not given the time to dodge, and had the air knocked out of his lungs when Mark barrelled into him and shoved him into one of the guards by the door. The second guard attempted to lunge at Mark with the butt of their military-grade combat shotgun held high, but Mark lunged out with one leg and kicked them in the gut, sending them sprawling in turn. Mark barely had time to right himself before the first guard pushed Suleman to the floor and aimed her sawn-off hunting shotgun at him. Mark grabbed the twin barrels of the shotgun and had just enough time to push it down so that it was aiming between his legs before it went off, blowing a chunk out of the floor. With the first guard''s arms down, he took the opportunity to lunge in and headbutt her. The impact of his forehead against a gas mask stung hard and made his ears ring, but still managed to crack one of the mask''s eye lenses and shove the back of the guard''s head against the wall with a loud thud. Mark felt Suleman claw at his leg and feebly try to drag him to the floor, so he swiftly responded with an elbow to the old man''s nose. Suleman croaked with pain and slumped back to the floor, but still managed to hold Mark in place long enough for the second guard to recover and draw their knife. Mark turned just in time to see the blade coming for his ribcage and twisted out of the way, grabbing the nape of the guard''s neck as they charged past and shoving them to the floor. When they sprawled out, he stomped on their hand and forced them to release the knife. Behind his back, he heard the second guard raise her shotgun with a grunt and spun around, a clenched fist slamming into the guard''s uncracked lens. The second guard''s shotgun clattered to the floor as she clutched at the shards of broken glass protruding into her eye and stumbled against the door. Mark grabbed the shotgun, ejected the remaining shell and hammered the stock into the back of the first guard''s head as they attempted to stand. With one enemy fully down for the count, Mark wheeled around and pinned the second guard against the door, jamming the top of the shotgun into her neck. The guard weakly clawed at Mark''s arms for a moment before he yanked the shotgun to one side, catching the respirator of the guard''s mask with the stock and pulling her to the ground. Mark straddled the collapsed guard and brought the shotgun''s stock down on her dented gas mask twice before rolling off of her and springing to his feet, breathing heavily and brandishing the dented shotgun like a club at nothing in particular. He looked at Suleman writhing on the floor. ¡°That the... That the best you people can do?¡± Suleman made a meek attempt to charge, but was easily knocked to the side by a strike to the ribs. This time, he moaned quietly and made no attempt to stand. Mark dropped the empty shotgun and grabbed his knife and gun from the floor, looked out the window and found no trace of Waia, only the easily-visible path she had taken through the city. With a frustrated grunt, he made for the door. He took two steps before another another Huntsman burst through the door. ¡°Huntmaster, sir, we''ve been ordered to evacu...¡± They stared down at the two unconscious bodies by the door, then up at Mark. Then, four more Huntsmen emerged from the door and raised their shotguns at Mark. Mark groaned and was halfway to putting his hands behind his head when the entire front half of the room exploded in an eruption of dust. Mark fell backwards in surprise and prepared to stand and run, only for Waia to emerge from the dust cloud, coughing into her arm. She glanced down at an arm that was buried from the elbow up under a car-sized chunk of concrete. The watch on the arm, the same as that on one of Mark''s guards, was frozen in position. ¡°Oh, hey, fifteen minutes exactly.¡± Mark stared in horror at the pile of rubble where seven people had just been. Waia caught his expression. ¡°Oh, don''t be such a baby. It''s not like you couldn''t have seen this coming, let''s get out of here.¡± Mark forced himself out of his shock. "A¨C Y¨C Hang on, th¨Cthere''s a¨C some documents on the first floor, on top of a floo¨C on a filing can¨C cabinet¨C¡± ¡°A-buh-duh-muh-muh,¡± mocked Waia, ¡°just let me get those myself if you''re just gonna keep soiling yourself down there.¡± Without breaking her disapproving eye contact with Mark, she melted the floor beneath her and crashed through two layers of concrete. Mark heard alarmed shouts get cut short, followed by several people scrambling to escape the room on the first floor. A few seconds later, Waia climbed back up through the hole in the floor that she had created, now with Torch''s folder clutched in one hand. ¡°This thing better be good.¡± Mark took the folder from Waia and stuffed it in his hoodie pocket. "So, I was hoping you, uh, you would be a little more discreet in getting us out of here, what do we do now?¡± Waia scowled. ¡°Really? Your oh-so-special plan didn''t account for me doing what I told you I was going to do?¡± ¡°Wh¨C? I¨CI didn''t have a plan! I was just acting off of panic! Getting that folder was a lucky break, I''ve got nothing now!¡± ¡°Well, good news for us both,¡± said Waia, ¡°I''ve already got a plan. Because I see no reason not to leave the same way I came in.¡± She took Mark by the wrist and led him to the hole in the roof that her entry had created, led up to by a ramp of rubble. ¡°C¡¯mon, I hate this place.¡± Mark raised a leg to begin climbing up the ramp, but stopped when he heard Suleman moan on the floor on the other side of the room. Suleman struggled to lift his head and look Mark in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was choked by blood trickling down from his shattered nose and into his mouth. ¡°You... You won''t get away with this... Neither of you...¡± Waia scowled and cupped one hand, allowing the metal encasing her hand to slough off and pool in her palm in a ball-shape. She pulled her arm back as if to throw the makeshift cannonball at the old man on the floor, but her arm was held down by Mark. ¡°Don''t,¡± muttered Mark. ¡°Let''s just go.¡± Waia scowled and sniffed, but dropped the lump of metal before spitting in Suleman''s direction. ¡°What, is he getting special treatment because you can see his face? Are you feeling bad for the old man who''s just as responsible for all this as everyone else?¡± ¡°He''s harmless over there, just let him live with this.¡± Waia turned to look at Suleman, her pupil-less eyes boring into him. ¡°You, don''t even think about coming back for more. I''ll be doing that myself. In case you couldn''t tell, I don''t feel like the due''s been paid.¡± She turned and continued up the ramp with Mark. Their exit was blocked by an attack helicopter. Chapter 20 The minigun mounted on the helicopter''s flank spooled up as the helicopter turned perpendicular to Mark and Waia to give the gunner an optimal firing angle. ¡°I''m not doing this anymore.¡± Waia grabbed a basketball-sized chunk of concrete from the ground, clenched it until it glowed red-hot, and threw it at the meeting point between the helicopter''s tail and body. The glowing block of concrete ripped through the helicopter''s flimsy metal and detonated the interior fuel tanks, ripping the hovering vehicle in two before the gunner could get a shot off. Waia grabbed Mark by the shoulders and leapt over the flaming wreckage strewn across the street below, landing on the building across from Suleman''s compound. Mark looked around from the new vantage point and saw dozens of armored vehicles converging on Suleman''s compound, trailed by even more Huntsmen. ¡°So, you think you can still handle all these Servants?¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°The more there are to kill me, the harder I am to kill. That''s why they know I''m such a problem, they couldn''t finish me as cleanly as Torch did that one guy.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Okay, so as long as you keep attention on yourself, you should just keep snowballing until we manage to brute-force our way out of this whole encirclement?¡± ¡°Yeah, that''s the idea.¡± Waia narrowed her eyes as she watched the vehicles approach. ¡°Not sure how you''re supposed to get out of this, though. You weren''t exactly quiet yourself, with that little stunt you pulled earlier.¡± ¡°Yeah, right, okay...¡± Mark crouched behind an air-conditioning unit and held his head in his hands. ¡°We''re completely surrounded by a well-armed and well-coordinated militia who knows what we look like, and our main asset is an untoppable murder hurricane...¡± ¡°I feel like your phrasing is making clear what the easy answer is.¡± Mark sighed. ¡°I''d explain why killing these people is bad, but I feel like there isn''t much reasoning with you on that front.¡± ¡°Being easily talked down isn''t something I''m known for, no.¡± ¡°Yeah, so in terms of mitigating the whole cycle-of-violence thi¨C¡± Waia held up a hand. ¡°You hear that?¡± Mark stopped talking and tried to hear past the distant clamor of voices and engines beneath him. "...I don''t hear anything. Out of the ordinary, I mean.¡± Waia shushed him. ¡°Give it a second. It''s getting louder.¡± A moment later, Mark began hearing it too. A low roar rippled through the decrepit streets, echoing like the sound of a passenger plane passing overhead. Another moment later, and Mark realized that he wasn''t very far off. Their undersides were painted black to camouflage them against the ubiquitous clouds of ash, but the sounds and barely-visible traces of movement in the sky still gave away the two-ish fighter jets approaching the city. ¡°You''re kidding,¡± mumbled Mark. Waia saw swathes of the city light up as a dozen helicopters switched on their searchlights and began their sweep across the city. ¡°Okay, that''s our cue.¡± She walked straight into the AC unit, melting a hole into the car-sized rectangle. A moment later, she emerge from the other side, covered head-to-toe in a seamless layer of molten metal. She looked back at Mark with two spots of particularly bright aluminium and let out a muffled ¡°Let''s move". She grabbed Mark, slung him over her unexpectedly cool metal back, and leapt over the side of the building. Mark slid off of Waia with a breathless grunt of pain when the two of them landed on the ground. He picked his face up off the ground and saw Waia scooping a chunk out of the tarmac, then turned and saw a line of armored vans turning their turrets to face Waia. His eyes went wide. ¡°Wait, hang on, don''t¨C!¡± Waia threw the tarmac like a baseball pitcher. Too fast to follow, the fistful of tarmac slammed into the side of one of the vans and punched straight through, flying into a building on the other side of the street with the mangled hulk of its victim trailing through the air behind it. The two remaining vans desperately opened fire on Waia, only for their armor-piercing rounds to sink harmlessly into her suit of metal that really should not have been able to move. Waia launched herself into front of one of the vans, crumpling the engine into uselessness, then grabbed the driver through the windshield and hurled them out before reaching up and crushing the windpipe of the turret operator. Mark saw the van''s driver land limply on the road next to him, unmoving. He crawled over and reached a hand out, before thinking better of himself and keeping his hands close. He knew what he would find if he investigated any closer. Without warning, the last of the three vans flew over Mark''s head and crashed into a looted storefront, then got buried as the entire building collapsed on top of it in a shower of dust. Mark turned to see Waia striding towards him from where the blockade had once been. She reached down towards the dead Huntsman, peeled off their gas mask, and tossed it into Mark''s lap. Her voice was surprisingly clear, given the two-inch layer of metal covering her mouth. ¡°Disguise. Keep your head down, I''ll do the heavy lifting.¡± Mark looked at the mask, then up at Waia''s nigh-featureless metallic face. ¡°You''re just...?¡± ¡°They haven¡¯t learned. Find a car, and leave.¡± Waia looked up at an approaching helicopter, its searchlight sweeping up the street. ¡°I''ll catch up.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± Without letting Mark finish, Waia leapt straight up and crashed into the helicopter''s cockpit, bringing the entire vehicle into a death spiral that brought it crashing into the collapsed storefront. Mark heard the echo of the fighter jets swooping towards the crash site, and tried fruitlessly to follow the sound to figure out where the jets were coming from. In the end, the attackers revealed themselves when the sky lit up with the trail of a missile streaking straight towards the crashed helicopter. Waia burst from the twisted wreckage and, with almost contradictory speed and precision, grabbed the side of the missile with both hands before it detonated. She fluidly redirected the missile in a semicircular curve so that it went back the way it came and connected with the jet that fired it, annihilating both in a murderous fireball. Without skipping a beat, Waia pulled herself out of the flaming wreck of the helicopter and leapt straight through a public library, out of sight but not earshot. This was certainly enough to convince Mark to start running. After rounding a few corners, he noticed a team of Huntsmen directing civilian Servants down the road and towards a crowded bus stop, around which dozens of Servants were being evacuated by a convoy of rapidly-filling military trucks. Mark was escorted onto the second-last truck in the queue and seated by the edge of the vehicle¡¯s open rear, across from a Huntsman with their shotgun in their lap. Once the last of the trucks were loaded to capacity, the convoy desperately took off and made their way through the empty city streets while the sound of vehicles and buildings being smashed continued nearby. The canopy of the truck obscured any view of the vehicle¡¯s surroundings other than the trucks behind Mark¡¯s in the line, so Mark gave his pockets one last pat to make sure he still had the folder, then buried his head in his hands and tried not to wince with every sound of rending metal¡­ ¡­Were they getting closer? Waia hurled herself through a building directly behind Mark¡¯s truck and swiped at the truck directly behind Mark¡¯s, only missing thanks to the driver swerving away at the last second. Half of the truck¡¯s occupants yelped with terror. Mark saw the Huntsman across from him grab a ripcord built into the underside of their seat. He was barely able to register curiosity regarding the cord¡¯s function when the truck behind him answered him on the Huntsman¡¯s behalf. The entire rear half of the truck erupted in a plume of pale gray smoke, flooding the entire street in an obscuring cloud. The truck behind Mark¡¯s emerged from the cloud, still venting the cloud out of its rear, but Waia did not follow. She only became visible once more when she leap out of the cloud and straight through a clothing store on the sidewalk. Evidently, Waia decided not to follow the civilian convoy anymore, as the next indication of her location that Mark received was the sound of an artillery bombardment centered on a spot a few hundred feet away. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Once the convoy had reached the still-abandoned outskirts of the city, Mark heard more sounds passing over him, this time that of propellers. A few minutes later, after the shoddy buildings had given way to dead trees, he heard low cracks echo from the way he had come. The Servants were bombing what remained of the city. Then he saw clouds of yellow gas billow over the distant rooftops. Those weren¡¯t normal bombs that they were using. The Huntsman across from Mark looked up at him. They adjusted their mask to be able to speak and waved to get his attention. ¡°Hey, you, um, you a hunter too?¡± Mark blinked, glanced at the Huntsman, and shook his head. ¡°Oh. Then why wear a mask?¡± Mark shrugged and looked away from the Huntsman. ¡°C¡¯mon, take it off, you¡¯re fine.¡± Mark sighed and pulled the mask off, hoping that people¡¯s minds would be too preoccupied with the carnage behind them to recognize him from thirty minutes prior. One of the Servants¡¯ eyes went wide and they whispered something in the Huntsman¡¯s ear. Right then, there went that hope. Mark dove forward and swiped the Huntsman¡¯s shotgun out of their lap before they could grab it, sending it clattering out of the truck and onto the road. Mark felt the sting of the Huntsman bringing a fist down on the back of his head, but by that time, his hand had already moved down and pulled the ripcord between the Huntsman¡¯s legs. From somewhere to the cord¡¯s left came the smoke, the force of which felt to Mark like a hundred soft punches across an entire side of his body. The truck¡¯s passengers yelped with confusion and grasped at nothing. The Huntsman tried to grab Mark¡¯s hoodie, but he managed to duck and roll to the side, off the back of the truck and onto the tarmac. Tires squealed beyond Mark¡¯s field of vision as the truck behind his swerved manically in response to being plunged into blindness. Mark scrambled out of the way of the truck, feeling a slight rush of wind as it careened past him and out of sight. Without giving the smoke a chance to clear, Mark rushed off the road and into the sparse cover of skeletal trees, coughing his lungs out and wiping tears out of his eyes. He was pretty sure that smoke was the same stuff that they used in the military. He ducked into a dried-up gully to stay out of sight of the road and travelling along the ditch until he found a four-foot-tall sewer pipe. He heard the screech of swerving trucks subside before the convoy passed out of earshot. Mark huddled in the dark shelter of the sewer pipe for a moment, sweaty, cold, covered in mud, and shivering as the twenty-minute-long adrenaline high faded from his body. Once he stopped physically feeling his heart hammering in his chest, he decided to try and regroup with Waia, wherever she was. He pulled out his gun and pressed the button on the chrome apparatus, unfolding the mechanism into the shape of a flare gun. After another moment or three of waiting, just to make absolutely sure that the convoy wouldn¡¯t just turn around and intercept him, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The flare lit up the grim darkness of the dead forest with an angry red light as a pinprick of light hovered fifty feet above the tips of the dead trees for a minute or two. Once that time had passed, the light spluttered and died, leaving Mark alone again in the darkness. A few minutes later, while he contemplated firing off a second flare, he heard heavy footfalls approaching. He peeked out of the pipe and peered into the shadow, trying to see where the footsteps were coming from. He cupped one hand around his mouth and kept the other on his gun. ¡°That you?¡± ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± responded Waia¡¯s voice. Mark sighed with relief and climbed out of the gully. After some fiddling, he managed to extend a flashlight from his gun. He shone light in the direction Waia¡¯s voice had come from, revealing the Primus emerging from her pitted armor as the metal sloughed off her body and pooled on the ground before immediately hardening. Mark saw that Waia walked with a limp, then saw a knife buried in her calf and gasped. ¡°Are you okay?!¡± Waia grunted, reached down and yanked the gold-stained knife out with stifled cry of pain before tossing it aside. ¡°One of those guys played dead, stuck me while I walked past. Slid right through the armor stuff like it wasn¡¯t even there.¡± She stepped away from the puddle of metal on the ground before sitting down and shifting into a human. ¡°I already knew humans can mess with your powers when you get close, so I should¡¯ve just been more careful, that¡¯s on me. Give it a minute and I¡¯ll be fine, though.¡± ¡°Okay, great.¡± Mark sat down in front of Waia and set the flashlight between the two of them. Then, he punched her in the arm. ¡°What were you thinking?! You could¡¯ve just taken my hoodie and put on a mask, and nobody would¡¯ve recognized you! Now an entire city¡¯s been gassed like it¡¯s the first world war, and every Servant in Mexico is out for blood!¡± ¡°Like they weren¡¯t already,¡± huffed Waia. ¡°All of that was a shot at getting even, we just happened to get our hands on whatever Torch wanted to tell that master guy in the process.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t need to kill dozens of people and drive hundreds more out of their home to do that, Waia!¡± ¡°Okay, so striking that, what exactly is your planned method for dealing with these people in the long term? Figuring that out was the whole reason we came here, after all, so if you¡¯re gonna be all icky about killing the people after us, what is your plan?¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­¡± Mark buried his head in his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but at the absolute bare minimum, we shouldn¡¯t be picking fights with entire cities when we¡¯re alone. Suicide won¡¯t help anyone involved.¡± Waia folded her arms. ¡°Please, I managed to get the human-attention snowball rolling just fine, I had everything under control.¡± ¡°You got stabbed!¡± ¡°And before that, a tank shot me in the face. Stop worrying about these guys getting a one-in-a-million lucky shot when I gave a thousand times better than I got. I¡¯m fine. What¡¯s another hole in my pants in the long run? I¡¯ve been hurt worse by these people, and I¡¯m doing better than ever. I¡¯m starting to see why Deus was so desperate to make us not cause a scene in front of humans.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Mark got to his feet. ¡°And did you get even?¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°You said this was you trying to get even with them for burning down your home town. You¡¯ve done the same, if not worse, to hundreds of them now. So, are you even? Can we keep this as strictly business now?¡± Waia looked at the ground. ¡°¡­No.¡± Mark sighed. ¡°Then when will you be?¡± Waia opened her mouth to speak, then glanced up and hastily covered the flashlight on the ground with her hand. ¡°Back in the pipe.¡± She pointed up at the distant pinprick of light that was the spotlight of another helicopter, sweeping across the forest. Mark groaned. ¡°I just had to use a flare, huh?¡± He made for the sewer pipe, but stopped when he saw Waia stand up and face the approaching helicopter. ¡°...What are you doing?¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°Same thing I''ve been doing for the last twenty minutes.¡± She took two steps before Mark grabbed her shoulder. ¡°Waia, stop.¡± Mark let go of Waia''s shoulder, but continued to stare her in the eye. ¡°You''ve lost the element of surprise. That helicopter is coming from the opposite direction of the city: They''ve got us surrounded. And if there''s one thing about these people that I''m willing to bank on, it''s that there''s some trick to them that''s let them kill thousands of Primoi. You caught them off-guard before, but now they''re ready to hit back. I know you don''t really have many issues with being aggressive, but don''t be stupid. Please.¡± Waia looked at the approaching helicopter, then at Mark. She sighed, dropped down into the ditch and crawled into the pipe with Mark hot on her heels. Mark and Waia struggled to comfortably fit together in the small pipe while the helicopter passed overhead, bathing the forest in white light. Once the helicopter was mostly out of earshot, Waia crawled out of the pipe and leaned on the rim, looking out into the darkness. ¡°So... According to you, they''ve got us surrounded. I''m inclined to believe you. Also according to you, if we just run straight at them, they''ll pull out their trump card and it''s curtains for us. Still coming up blank plan-wise?¡± ¡°Uh...¡± Mark buried his head in his hands. ¡°They''ll probably notice us if we go back to the city... They probably expect us to be sneaky... We can''t call for help... Mayb¨C¡± ¡°Yes we can.¡± Mark looked up at Waia. ¡°...What?¡± Waia pulled her phone out of her jacket''s interior pocket and showed it to Mark. ¡°I can''t exactly get through to the satellites if I want to call normally, but I guess the Aztecs did something to their landline, considering I was able to call it with a mobile phone and with no reception. Money''s on Quet messing with it, she looks the type.¡± ¡°She is. Also, we have a landline?¡± Waia turned her phone on, the screen''s light turning her face orange. ¡°Glad she did, seeing as it shouldn''t even be possible for me to call a landline with this thing, reception or no. Actually, that''s probably why they did it. Let''s see if there''s anyone on the outside...¡± - Suleman hobbled away from the crowded medical tent at the back of the blockade surrounding the suspected location of the Primus that had flattened Cuernavaca with ease. His one uncovered hand came to the bandage covering his nose as an attendant brought him to the Chosen containers, where he had been summoned. Torch stood stock-still next to the oddly quiet shipping containers, everything below their neck engulfed by their cloak. The slightest turn of their head was the only indicator that they had noticed Suleman approach. ¡°Huntmaster.¡± Suleman nodded grimly. ¡°You called me here?¡± ¡°Correct. You survived the Primus¡¯ assault on your primary base of operations.¡± Torch spoke as if making an observation, not asking a question. ¡°Only because I was already broken on the ground,¡± mumbled Suleman. ¡°And you retrieved the documents I gave to you when you evacuated?¡± Suleman''s eyes went wide. He turned to the medical attendant who had escorted him to Torch. ¡°Find a Huntsman. Tell them to get a team assembled to head back to the city and¨C¡± Torch cut him off. ¡°Unnecessary. The situation has progressed. Current priority is to flush the Primus out of its current hiding place within the quarantined zone.¡± ¡°...Alright? And how are we going to stop it? We couldn''t even slow it down before, and that was when our firepower wasn''t spread out across a four-kilometre encirclement.¡± Torch nodded at a nearby Servant. ¡°Huntmaster, during my various endeavours before and after the fall of centralized human civilization, the most valuable and prevalent lesson that I learned is that individuals have the noticeable tendency to become gullible when rendered desperate, especially those unaware of how desperate they actually are.¡± The cargo doors were opened, and the Servants entered to unchain the Chosen. Four unnatural monstrosities exited their cages with uncharacteristic composure. Each one padded, slunk, slithered or buzzed into the forest in their own direction, head-analogues already surveying the space ahead of them for any sign of their quarry. Torch gave one last glance towards Suleman. ¡°Our goal here is simply to prove that point, and everything will begin to work out from there. You are dismissed, Huntmaster.¡± Chapter 21 The Aztec landline rang in the middle of the foyer and, after some hurried negotiations between the nearby Pimoi, was picked up by Omet. ¡°Hi, you''ve reached the, uh... house. This is someone''s house.¡± ¡°Hey, it''s Waia.¡± ¡°Oh, hi, Waia.¡± Omet gave a thumbs-up to the Aztecs listening in on their conversation. ¡°How''s your little excursion doing?¡± ¡°Oh, y''know, ups and downs. Mark and I are hiding in a pipe right now.¡± ¡°I''m here,¡± came Mark''s voice. Omet clutched the receiver with their free hand. ¡°Wait, did something happen? Do you two need help?¡± "Can confirm,¡± said Mark, ¡°a lot of somethings happened. Waia did most of them. If the Servants didn''t know about us before, they absolutely do now. Also, we''re completely surrounded and could possibly be taken out at any moment, so I should probably get to the point sooner. Some help from the outside would definitely be appreciated, thanks.¡± ¡°Okay, uh, um, do you know where you are? Like, exactly?¡± "We''re about five minutes away from Cuernavaca,¡± said Waia, ¡°on the way to your place. Tough to miss us, there''s a giant circle of people with guns holding us in place. Not sure what any of you can do to help, but Mark thinks that there''s nothing we can do from inside the gun-circle.¡± ¡°Uh... Be right there. Promise. Bye.¡± Omet put down the receiver and stared at the landline for a moment. One of their siblings put her hand on their shoulder. ¡°Hey, spill it.¡± ¡°Yeah, uh...¡± Omet turned and looked across the foyer. Aztecs and Greeks were cobbling together banners from the results of a raid on a supply cabinet, the final touches of catering were being laid out in preparation for the scheduled imminent arrival of the Indians, and everyone looked like their nerves were already more than a little frayed. ¡°It''s... Something that I just need to pop out of the house for a little while to deal with,¡± said Omet, forcing a calm expression. ¡°Don''t worry about it, you can all just make sure you''re ready for when the guests arrive.¡± An Aztec folded his arms. ¡°And are you gonna be ready? They''re gonna show up in ten-something minutes, and if you needed to ask for directions, I don''t think the commute there and back is gonna be very forgiving.¡± Omet held their arms close to their side and continued scanning the foyer. ¡°I... will... bring the cavalry.¡± They walked over to Quet, who was busy lighting every candle in the room from a single spot by way of a wooden board covered in glyphs. They cleared their throat to get her attention. ¡°Hey, uh, you done with preparations?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Quet tapped the board twice before looking up at Omet. ¡°Okay, we''re good. What''s up?¡± ¡°Oh, uh, I just wanted to see if you were up for a real quick one-to-two-hour trip outside to help Mark and Waia out of a bit of a rut that they tell me they''re in.¡± ¡°They''re about to die, aren''t they?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± Quet squinted and stared into nothing for a second. ¡°Well, heading out to help bring them back is a risk to my own health and safety. But if something isn''t a risk to my health and safety, it''s not worth doing. Woodworking taught me that.¡± Omet chewed their lip uncomfortably. ¡°Yeah, that''s... making me feel things about making you do this...¡± ¡°But in addition, the time investment means I''ll have an acceptable excuse to be absent from a large congregation of strangers in my home. In conclusion:¡± She zipped her skirt pockets shut and unzipped two new ones open, which given the size of the pocket pairs and their proximity to each other, violated at least a few laws of spacetime. ¡°We ride.¡± ¡°Cool. Uh, one minute, wait here.¡± Omet dipped away from Quet and approached the recently-erected stage on the side of the foyer across from the main doorway. They climbed up and gave a quick high-five to the nearest member of the five-person band before leaning forwards and lowering their voice. ¡°You guys are gonna do great, jazz''ll go over awesome with this crowd.¡± They leaned back and turned to the room at large, making a half-hearted wave to draw attention to themself. ¡°Hey all, just a quick heads-up, Quet and I are just gonna be popping out for an hour or so to deal with an issue Mark and Waia are having, so, uh... Saralai, you okay with handling the guests if Horan and Yellow can''t do that alone?¡± Saralai gave a thumbs-up from across the room, without looking away from her attempt at moving of the couches in the living area up against the wall. ¡°Cool, thanks, sorry. I''m sure we''re gonna knock everyone''s socks off, guys!¡± Omet heard the band''s drummer perform a subdued ba-dum-tch behind them. ¡°Cacict, please don''t do that, it''s already hard enough to keep it together.¡± They hopped off the stage. ¡°I''m gonna go get some paper, I need to leave a note.¡± - Quet followed Omet out the door and looked out at the dismal, dead forest around their house. ¡°Ah, nature. How indifferent I am to you. And yet, you are my saviour in the fight against crowds. We shall become good friends tonight.¡± Omet tried to calm their breathing and fished out a small map of the wider Mexico City area. ¡°Okay, um, we''re here, and our front door faces... south... east, so we need to head...¡± They tried to orient themself. ¡°...That way? No, uh...¡± Quet pulled a compass out of her pocket. ¡°Would you like some assistance with finding your bearings?¡± ¡°Oh, right, dumb.¡± Omet reached over and, with a small nod from Quet, took the compass from her. ¡°Okay, yeah, this is way easier.¡± They headed off in the direction indicated on the map. Before they had even walked out of the clearing that their house was situated in, they turned and looked back at Quet. ¡°I know it''s a bad time to say this when we''ve already left the house, but... Wow, I am seriously making you walk several kilometers, in the cold and the dark, towards people who want to kill us?¡± Quet shrugged and shifted into a human. ¡°Mark and Waia made it this far, I can deal with little walking. I''m not as cool as either of them, but I can''t be that not cool.¡± She playfully punched Omet''s shoulder. ¡°And try as you might, you aren''t that uncool either.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Omet grinned. ¡°Okay, fine, I get it. You''re not being as pessimistic as me, I''ll have a little more faith.¡± ¡°Please do. We''ve both dealt with way worse than a random cult, and for longer. Sure, one of our relatives died, but now it''s just us! No big deal, just keep it real.¡± ¡°You just made it very real,¡± said Omet. ¡°Mayhaps I did!¡± Quet strode past Omet with mock confidence. ¡°But there shall be no bummers here for as long as I''m present, as the sign decrees! There is a problem before us, and it is a problem we shall fix! No anxiety, only misplaced confidence!¡± ¡°Yeah, you tell ¡®em, boss!¡± Quet yelped and stumbled back into the dirt. She watched as the yellow-eyed Omet stepped out from behind a tree, cackling to themself. The yellow-eyed Omet looked down at Quet, a cheshire grin plastered across their face. ¡°Oh, you didn''t see me there? Bummer. We should abolish hiding. Haven¡¯t been on the wrong end in a while, though, I might be biased.¡± The purple-eyed Omet hesitantly approached their counterpart. ¡°Don''t... Please don''t, there''s this whole thing with Mark and Waia and¨C Actually, let me just catch you up.¡± They took the other Omet''s hand. Nothing happened. Omet grasped their doppelg?nger''s hand harder. ¡°C''mon, we''re supposed to¨C Work with me here." They looked around at the empty forest. ¡°Where''s Horan? And... the Indians?¡± The silver-eyed Omet''s grin stretched to a point just wide enough to be inhuman. ¡°Ah, they''ll all be here on time. I just felt like meeting the other half of the most wonderful moron in this world and the next.¡± Omet pulled their hand away and took a nervous step back when they saw that the other Omet''s eye color had changed. ¡°Wha¨C Who are you?¡± Rachna discarded Omet''s countenance and shifted into two different Aztecs before settling on the face of someone Omet was unfamiliar with. ¡°A fan from India. You have-slash-will meet me.¡± Quet shakily stood up and pointed at Rachna. ¡°Absolutely spine-chilling. Never do that again for as long as you live.¡± ¡°Cross my heart,¡± said Rachna, a bloody ¡®X¡¯ staining on the right side of his shirt. He nudged Omet with his elbow. ¡°Our mutual friend is gonna make that feel quite familiar in an hour or three, eh?¡± He turned towards the forest, ¡°Alright, those two chumps aren''t gonna rescue themselves, and inertia could do with a bit of reinforcement.¡± He stopped and glanced back at Omet and Quet. ¡°Wait, the voices have gotten to you about the renegade and the husk, right? That''s why you''re out here?¡± Omet glanced at Quet, who gave a futile shrug. ¡°...Yes?¡± Rachna hit his forehead. ¡°Right, yeah, you mentioned just now. There''s only really one ''thing¡¯ that you two know about so far.¡± He wheeled back around and strode in the direction of Cuernavaca. ¡°Welp, tally ho!¡± Quet jogged up next to Rachna, struggling to main equivalent pace as his legs elongated very slightly with each step. ¡°Hang on, if you''re Indian, how did you get here without coming with the rest of the group?¡± Rachna sniggered. ¡°My little ¡®family¡¯ thinks they know how to keep me out of mind. Unfortunately for them, I''ve got a bit of a fast track to the fun type of knowledge. Sorry to say that I just kind of skipped your whole journey of talent discovery, brisket.¡± ¡°...What''s that about brisket?¡± Rachna waved her off. ¡°You''ll get it later. Why can''t anyone be blunt these days...?¡± He increased his pace and started whistling a random, discordant tune. Omet caught up to Quet and leaned over her shoulder, trying to speak quietly enough for Rachna not to hear. ¡°Okay, so can we agree real quick that we''re just gonna try to avoid this guy when we get the chance and figure out their whole deal whenever that opens up as an option?¡± ¡°That''s gonna be hard,¡± said Rachna, head hanging limply upside-down to look back at Quet and Omet. ¡°We''re going to the same place at the same time, after all.¡± "...Right,¡± mumbled Omet. Rachna melted into a puddle of ochre goo, slid backwards with lightning speed, and reformed back into a generally humanoid shape behind Quet and Omet. ¡°Don''t take it too badly, guys. If I can figure out what you two already know, who knows how many extremely important and urgent revelations I can give you!¡± He waved at Quet before pointing at Omet. ¡°I can teach you their magic language, if you want. It has thirty-four vowel sounds!¡± ¡°Ooh!¡± Quet brought her fists up to her chest. ¡°The ones you physically can''t make with your mouth are the best!¡± She looked at Omet and her expression fell, though her hands remained in place. ¡°I mean, uh, that¡¯s not very important right now.¡± Omet fiddled with the hem of their cardigan. ¡°Can, uh... Can you please just stand a little further away for a little while? I''ll be straight, this is just making me feel weird, you being this close. Like, you still haven''t told us your name.¡± ¡°I haven''t?¡± Rachna''s dark green eyes went wide. ¡°Oh, that''s a shame. Eh, you''ll hear about it later. My ¡®family¡¯ isn''t going to be too happy to see me in this hemisphere, let''s just say.¡± ¡°Okay, that''s... That''s still cryptic, is the thing.¡± Omet tried to interpose themself between Quet and Rachna. ¡°Ca¨C can you please just keep your distance? It''s just stressing me out.¡± Rachna shrugged and stepped a few feet away from the two Aztecs. ¡°Don''t worry about me. If I wanted to hurt you...¡± He smirked, his eyes flashing with pale blue light before changing back to light pink. ¡°...Neither of you would''ve made it out of your front door.¡± Omet shrunk further away from Rachna. ¡°Of course,¡± mumbled Rachna, ¡°it¡¯s not like there¡¯s much of an alternative. The vulture feasts. The husk continues the act and the renegade can merely observe. The bastion draws eyes. The lost father prepares the conclusion and the reckoning accelerates ever dow¨C¡± ¡°Wow, look, a road!¡± Quet grabbed Omet''s hand and pulled them away from Rachna. ¡°Let''s drop all current conversation topics immediately!¡± Rachna stopped as the Aztecs hurried away from him. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°Road¡­ is what¡­ buses drive on?¡± He looked up at Omet expectantly, who was still glancing back at him over their shoulder. Omet gave a hesitant nod and he sighed with relief. Quet rubbed her hands as she approached a rusted shell of a pickup truck. The mangled rear half indicated that it had been rammed from the back by something large at some point. ¡°Finally, a chance to test out this matrix without being charged with grand theft auto and blackbagged by Deus!¡± She ushered Omet into the passenger seat before fishing a dozen stones out of her pocket. Omet leaned out of the broken window and watched Quet affix the stones to seemingly random parts of the truck. ¡°What exactly is the goal here? This thing''s fuel gauge says it''s empty.¡± ¡°Irrelevant, dear sibling. Wait and see. Best case scenario, we reach Mark and Waia an hour sooner. Worst case scenario, this car unfolds like bad origami and we''re back to square one. There''s no losing here! That''s my favorite amount of potential loss!¡± A moment later, she placed one last stone on the rusted hood and slapped it. The entire truck was outlined by a pale green glow and the weight on the sagging tires seemed to lessen. Quet raised both arms over her head. ¡°Success! World''s greatest thaumaturge!¡± She rushed over to the driver''s side door and climbed inside. ¡°We should probably hurry, though. Even on the off chance that I''m somehow as good as you think I am, we''ve got around fifteen minutes before something explodes.¡± ¡°Then I say we go,¡± said Omet. Quet attached a stone to the middle of the steering wheel and honked the horn, wincing at the noise and drumming two fingers against the steering wheel. ¡°Probably could have picked a more pleasant means of controlling the matrix remotely.¡± While the horn went off, the truck rose off of the road and passed over the trees. Once they were a decent twenty or thirty feet off the ground, Quet released the horn and pressed down on the accelerator, which made the truck''s floor thrum with bone-rattling vibration and sent the truck moving forward as if it were driving over open road. Quet cackled and slapped the steering wheel. ¡°Who needs specially-stitched carpets now, Armenians?! Quet keeps winning!¡± Omet leaned out the window and scanned the ground below them. ¡°So, are we just leaving that shapeshifting guy in the dus¨C in the air now? Saved it.¡± Quet shrugged and took the compass from Omet, placing it on the dashboard. ¡°Something tells me that we haven''t seen the last of that guy outside the party, but at least we should be fine up here. Just the two of us. Hey, we could both finally figure out how to drive!¡± Rachna sat cross-legged and watched the two Aztecs float over the dead trees. ¡°What lovely folks. It would be my favorite day in a long time if it turned out that they were both real.¡± Chapter 22 Mark fished the folder out of his hoodie pocket. ¡°Okay, help should be here in a few minutes. You wanna see what exactly it is that we made off with?¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°Not much else to do.¡± Her presently-human eyes were drowned out by orange light, filling the pipe with an angry glow. Mark pulled a sheet of thick paper out of the folder and unfolded it, revealing a map of the area surrounding Mexico City, which included Cuernavaca and the Aztec house. A point a few miles south of the house was circled by a permanent marker. Next to the circle was a line of compact, swirly sigils. Mark squinted. ¡°D¡­ Den¡­¡± He brought the map up to Waia¡¯s face. ¡°You recognize what that says?¡± Waia shook her head. ¡°Not translating for me. Must be code, or one of those magic-y languages that wizards have.¡± Mark grunted and put the map back into his pocket, discarding the folder. ¡°Figures. Guess we¡¯re gonna have to make that Quet¡¯s problem. And whatever it is, I bet it¡¯s important, seeing as how Torch made this whole show of giving it to the Prophet-Suleman-whoever. Ugh, it hasn¡¯t been long enough since I¡¯ve had a day this weird¡­ Hey, uh, remember whe¨C?¡± Waia held a hand up to silence Mark and furrowed her brow, eyes dimming back to normal. ¡°I just heard a footstep.¡± Mark squinted and peered into the darkness. He heard nothing. ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s gone qui¡­¡± Waia pushed Mark towards the pipe entrance. ¡°Out. Now.¡± Mark clambered out of the pipe and dropped to the ground, followed immediately by Waia. By the time he noticed that he could also hear the footsteps approaching, their source had already made itself visible. An indistinct, four legged creature the size of a car leapt over Mark and Waia¡¯s head and onto the top of the pipe, pushing the metal down so that the entrance was sealed off. The creature turned and pounced at Waia, but got caught in the throat by an uppercut from the Primus. As Waia brought her arm up into the would-be ambusher, she shifted into her true form. The brief rush of upward motion only added to her recently-acquired superhuman strength, and was more than enough to take the creature¡¯s head clean off. The creature¡¯s two parts sailed into the darkness, but Waia heard more sounds approach her and Mark before her first victim landed. She swept one leg in a wide arc across the ground, scooping up a chunk of dirt which flowed up her body and around her hands. She flexed, and the gloves of soil glowed orange with heat. ¡°More of them. Get behind me.¡± Mark pressed the button on the handle of his gun and unfolded it into the shape of a submachine gun, with a flashlight shining from the tip. ¡°Not a chance.¡± ¡°Alright man, your funera¨C.¡± A patch of dirt between Waia¡¯s feet split apart and a fanged maw emerged. Waia attempted to leap away from the tunneling Chosen, but the creature¡¯s serpentine tail struck out and wrapped itself around her ankle, pulling her harshly to the ground. The serpentine Chosen yanked Waia along the ground, mouth unhinging to reveal needle-thin fangs whose tips glowed with rainbow light. Six spindly arms unfolded from behind the Chosen¡¯s back, the eight talons on each hand glinting in the light of the fangs. As she was pulled forward, Waia felt the dirt around her hands cool down and slide to the ground. Whatever caused that, it would likely prove to be an issue in future. But for now, she didn¡¯t really need it. Waia pushed herself off the ground and lunged at the Chosen. It attempted to dart out of the way, but her right hand still managed to slam into its rubbery chest and crush whatever organs might have been in there at that point. The creature¡¯s tail unwrapped itself from Waia¡¯s ankle as the Chosen thrashed on the ground in pain and screeched uncontrollably. Waia scrambled away from the Chosen and stood up. She glanced at Mark, who had his gun pointed in the air and was sweeping the treetops with his flashlight. ¡°See another one?¡± ¡°At least one,¡± mumbled Mark. ¡°Can¡¯t get a good look at ¡®em. You okay?¡± ¡°Never better,¡± said Waia. She noticed the serpentine Chosen crawling away on its six frail arms. ¡°Be right back.¡± She stomped towards the moaning, twitching abomination. ¡°These Servants think these things are so spooky, huh¡­?¡± As Waia left to finish off the Chosen, Mark heard a cracking noise behind him. He whipped around to look at the tree that he had turned his back to. The trunk bent at unnatural angles as branches flexed jerkily, the tips splitting apart to form fingers. The base of the tree split in two and pulled itself out of the ground, revealing two gnarled feet. An impossibly tall mouth filled with far too many teeth opened horizontally ten feet above Mark¡¯s head, and the third Chosen opened its eyes. Waia was in the middle of grinding the serpent Chosen¡¯s face into the dirt with the heel of her boot when she heard Mark open fire behind her. Before she was able to turn around to see what he was shooting at, however, something grabbed the back of her jacket and pulled her into the air. As Waia was dragged over the dead treetops and away from the muzzle flashes of Mark¡¯s gunfire, her ears were filled with the deafening drone of insectoid wings. A drone that she had heard twice before. ¡°You!¡± Waia twisted in her embrace in an attempt to free herself from the mandibles holding her in place. After a few ineffectual swipes, she attempted to grab the Chosen¡¯s tail when the tip was brought in front of her. Her hand was stopped inches from wrapping around the tail by a stream of compressed air that flowed out of the tip and hurled her hand away. The stream of air ignited, bathing Waia in fire that left the Chosen holding her unscathed. This experience was far from new for Waia; she had been set on fire more times than she could count. Something was, however, off about the experience this time: It actually hurt. Not much, but enough to catch her off-guard. The Chosen released Waia¡¯s jacket after a second of holding her in the path of the fire. Still on fire, she plummeted fifty feet and broke through a tree before landing roughly on the ground. She struggled to get to her feet, grabbing a tree for support. By the time she let go, the fire engulfing her as-of-yet undamaged body had spread to the bone-dry wood, lighting up the darkness around her. Waia looked up to see the Chosen swooping down towards her, tail pulled back like a scorpion prepared to strike. She noticed a green light pass behind the creature, but ignored it and grabbed a stone from the ground and stared the approaching beast in the eye. ¡°That all you got?!¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The Chosen dove out of the way of the stone that Waia hurled at it, then released another river of fire at the Primus on the ground. Every tree and dead leaf within thirty feet of Waia lit up like a torch, but Waia stood resolutely in the middle of the inferno. ¡°Have it your way, then.¡± Waia grabbed the burning tree next to her and ripped it out of the ground, severing the brittle trunk from its roots with ease. She pulled the tree back and hurled it at the Chosen like a javelin. The Chosen attempted to dodge the flaming tree, but one of the branches clipped its side and sent it tumbling down among the burning trees. ¡°Here we go¡­¡± Waia began to walk towards where the Chosen had landed, but stopped when she heard footsteps coming from the opposite direction. She turned to see Mark stumbling into the circle of flaming trees, shielding his face with one hand and clutching his side with the other. Mark stumbled towards Waia. ¡°What happened? I¨CI didn¡¯t see you¨C I just heard¨C Why is everything on fire? Why are you on fire?!¡± Waia ignored him and continued in the direction of the fallen Chosen. ¡°In a minute. Still got one to finish¡­ off¡­¡± She looked up to see a rusty, dented pickup truck haloed by green light descending from the sky. Omet leaned out of the passenger-side window and waved to the two people on the ground. ¡°Hi, is this a good time? Also, is Waia supposed to be on fire?¡± Mark sighed with relief and waved the car down. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not what I was expecting from a rescue, but I¡¯ll take anything at this point.¡± He lowered the hand on his side and glanced at a bloodstained hole in his hoodie. ¡°That better not be poisoned.¡± Mark climbed into the truck¡¯s cargo bed. ¡°Alright, we can¡­¡± He looked back to see Waia staring out into the blazing woods. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯ve gotten too lucky as it is!¡± Waia barely even heard Mark¡¯s protest. Her eyes were fixed on a team of Huntsmen advancing past the growing periphery of the forest fire. When the masked, shotgun-toting soldiers spotted her, the entire group stopped in its tracks and stared warily and the burning colossus before them. ¡°You¡¯ve done enough already,¡± insisted Mark. Waia turned to look Mark in the eye. ¡°I say when I¡¯ve done enough.¡± Nevertheless, she shifted into her human form and climbed into the cargo bed with Mark. She knocked on the roof of the driver¡¯s compartment. ¡°Take us home.¡± The truck took off with a protracted honk, spinning around and heading back the way it came. Omet looked out of her door window and up at Waia. ¡°I assume the rock and the fire-tree were yours?¡± Waia spread her arms out as Mark configured his gun into a fire extinguisher-esque device and sprayed her down. ¡°Got it in one.¡± ¡°I should use this thing more often,¡± mumbled Mark. ¡°Okay then,¡± said Omet, ¡°looks like we could¡¯ve had worse ti¨C¡± An ear-splitting hiss cut Omet off. From the center of the ring of fire half a mile away came a thick cloud of yellow smoke that spread out over hundreds of feet, blanketing the ground in impenetrable fog. Omet stared. ¡°The¡­ Ye¨C they¡­ Is that chlorine?! These people are using mustard gas?!¡± Waia sighed and stared at the dark cloud. ¡°Can¡¯t say it wouldn¡¯t work.¡± She sighed and looked away. ¡°Whackjobs, all of ¡®em. First those little science experiments that they sicced on us, now they¡¯re going back to the world wars. I can¡¯t¡­¡± Her eyes drifted down to the ground. Mark followed her gaze. He noticed the sole remaining Chosen rising out of the forest, desperately trying to catch up with the flying car that was readily outpacing it. Mark¡¯s eyes met Waia¡¯s. ¡°Don¡¯t. Please. We¡¯re done.¡± ¡°Good for you. I¡¯m not.¡± Waia vaulted over the side of the cargo bed and plummeted down to meet the Chosen. Mark desperately tried to stop Waia as she went over the side. His arm dangled uselessly while he watched her fall towards her quarry. He groaned and leaned over to the passenger-side window. ¡°Turn us around, she¡¯s being an idiot again.¡± - The Chosen looked up and, seeing Waia fall towards it, gurgled and rose to meet her. Waia pulled her arm back, twisted around the stream of fire that the Chosen sent up at her, grabbed it by the throat and pulled it down with her. The two slammed into the ground, Waia¡¯s grip on the Chosen¡¯s throat releasing upon impact. Waia rolled and expertly came to her feet within a second of landing, while the Chosen tumbled across the ground before striking the tree and coming to a stop. Waia watched the limbless Chosen attempt to pick itself up for a moment, then knelt down and scooped a fist-sized chunk of dirt out of the ground. Waia slowly walked towards the Chosen, which had evidently gotten one of its translucent wings trapped under a chunk of wood. ¡°You know, it really wasn¡¯t that hard to figure out where I¡¯ve seen you from. After all, I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting a look at that mug every night for the past two months.¡± The dirt in her hands glowed yellow and flowed around her fingers, forming glowing earthen talons. ¡°Scaring a few hundred of your buddies to death hasn¡¯t exactly done it for me, but I¡¯m hoping that I can end up feeling better after a more personal talk.¡± The trapped Chosen pointed its tail at Waia, but before anything could come out, she darted forward and sliced the end of the tail to pieces. Fire jetted out of the stump that remained in a wide arc, only for Waia to stomp down on it and keep it stuck in place. The Chosen continued to struggle against its restraints. In response, Waia raked her claws across its chest, leaving four trails of sizzling blood in her. The Chosen snapped its mandibles, clearly insensible to the pain. Waia grabbed its throat with her uncovered hand, pinned its head to the ground and tore at its face with her claws. In moments, the creature¡¯s head was strewn across six square feet of ground and a good deal of Waia¡¯s upper body. Waia pounded the ground and screamed into the darkness. She knelt in front of the dead Chosen in silence, staring blankly at the mess she had made while the second fire grew out of control behind her. Waia was only pulled from her stupor when the flying truck¡¯s horn blared in her ears, signaling its descent. The truck was twenty feet off the ground when Quet suddenly swerved to the right. A split second later, an artillery shell ripped through the truck¡¯s roof, snuffing out its green aura and sending it tumbling to the ground. Mark was flung from the cargo bed and thrown against a tree before landing on the ground, face-down. The truck itself, meanwhile, rolled across the ground before coming to a halt upside-down. Waia ran over to pull Mark to his feet. He struggled to stand upright, wincing as he put his weight on his left leg. Once he was sure that he could stand, he hurried over to the overturned truck. Omet pushed an airbag out of their face and unbuckled themself from their seat, falling onto the crushed ceiling of the truck. With some difficulty, they crawled through the shattered door window and out of the truck. Gold streamed down their forehead and trickled down their nose. They turned to see Mark trying to help a frozen Quet out of her own side of the truck, pulling her onto the ground. Her arms were pulled close to her chest, her eyes were wide, and she wasn¡¯t breathing. Omet hurried over and knelt next to their sister, taking one locked-up hand. ¡°You, uh, okay? J¨CJ¨CJust b¨Cbreathe, okay?¡± They took a deep, shaky breath through their nose, then motioned for Quet to do the same. Quet gasped for air for a few moments, then shut her eyes for a moment and attempted to swallow. Omet squeezed her hand. ¡°Y¨CYou better? Can you move?¡± Quet nodded. Mark helped Omet to their feet, who in turn pulled up Quet. ¡°She¡¯s still in shock. All three of¨C of us are. We need to m¨Cmove, they¡¯ll come to finish. U¨CUs.¡± He looked around at the nearby trees before fixating on the fire a few dozen feet away. ¡°We came¡­ from¡­¡± He spun in place and began limping off. ¡°This w¨Cway.¡± Waia followed the other three. ¡°Hang on, I thought we were going to¨C¡± Mark shot a glare at Waia before continuing on his way. Waia decided to stop talking. Not much needed to be said. Chapter 23 Kuravaan stepped into the crowd of Primoi that were hemmed into a circle in the center of the Indians¡¯ portal room. ¡°Parisat, if you would.¡± A moment later, all seventy-something Primoi were standing in front of the Aztecs¡¯ house. Omet leaned over to Horan and whispered in his ear. ¡°If I tell Quet that these guys have someone who can just do that, will she flip her lid in a good way or a bad way?¡± ¡°You¡¯re supposed to say something for the guests,¡± hissed Horan. ¡°Okay, right, sorry.¡± Omet slipped through the crowd and stood between them and the house. ¡°If I could, uh, have all of your attention real quick? Yeah. Welcome to the home of the Aztecs, everyone! Not the prettiest front yard, but there¡¯s not much to be done about that at this point, am I right?¡± One Indian raised their hand. ¡°Pretty sure you can just get one of your subjects trained as a landscaper, if that¡¯s such a problem.¡± ¡°When we¡¯re inside.¡± Kuravaan glared at the Primus who had spoken, then gestured for Omet to continue. ¡°Yeah, so, uh¡­¡± Omet glanced at Horan, who flexed his hand and wind-spoke the word ¡®plan¡¯ into their ear. ¡°¡­So, to be transparent, our f¨C Domain has invited you folks here to do a bit of courting and convince you all that, given everything that¡¯s been happening to us, it might do to establish a bit more long-term contact. I know it¡¯s been a bit weird between us so far, but I¡¯m hoping we can put our differences aside and work together to protect the people we love.¡± They slowly stepped backwards and towards the front door. ¡°So if you want, consider this whole event an olive branch from us to you. And with words out of the way, it¡¯s time f¨C¡± The front door flew open and Saralai stepped out, hair glowing with the light of the sun. ¡°Look who showed up!¡± Omet yelped and leapt away from the door in surprise. They covered their chest when they recognized Saralai. ¡°Sorry, uh, wasn¡¯t expecting anyone from that side.¡± They turned back to the Indians. ¡°Well everyone, this is Saralai, she¡¯s one of our Greek roommates who helped us set all this up. We can get into specific introductions soon, but for now, you¡­ can¡­¡± They glanced back at Saralai. ¡°¡­come in?¡± Saralai nodded at Omet and stepped back inside, gesturing for the Indians to follow. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind.¡± A moment before the first Indian crossed the threshold, Saralai waved at the band on the other side of the foyer, who quietly counted down from three before filling the cavernous room with the sound of calm jazz music. Aztecs and Greeks began to emerge from their rooms and descend into the foyer, greeting the Indians with wary openness. Soon, the Indians spread out across buffet and drinks tables, with many taking a seat and engaging in small talk around them. Candles were lit across the room (with lamps in the walls still providing most of the actual light), and the room sank into the feel of a party. At the back of the crowd entering the building, Horan shut the doors behind him and nudged Omet. ¡°Looks like purple-you really pulled through, huh?¡± Saralai approached the two of them. ¡°Actually, Omet, I should probably let you know right away that the other Omet wrote this for you.¡± She handed Omet a folded-up sheet of paper. Omet opened the sheet to reveal a note in their own handwriting. ¡°M plus W asked for help, went to fetch with Quet, back soon¡­¡± They noticed a small frowny face at the bottom of the sheet, next to which was an even smaller ¡®soz¡¯. ¡°¡­Okay? Any news from them since?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± said Saralai, they only left an hour or so ago, I got put in charge while they were gone.¡± Horan rubbed his eye. ¡°Okay, yeah. This is one of those days, isn¡¯t it?¡± Omet began to pace nervously. ¡°Okay, has it been a whole hour, or has it only been an hour? Should we go help them? We kind of assigned jobs under the assumption that Mark and Waia could do the dangerous part. Would I be making a rational decision he¨C? No, I wouldn¡¯t.¡± They spun around and headed for the door. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go make sure they¡¯re¨C¡± Horan grabbed Omet¡¯s shoulder and spun them around. ¡°You are doing no such thing. You thought it was tough hanging around at the Indians¡¯ place? They were accommodating you back then! Now you¡¯re the one bending over backwards!¡± ¡°My sister and clone-me are potentially in life-threatening danger.¡± ¡°And the sun could explode at any minute, get over yourself.¡± Horan steered Omet towards the center of the party while Saralai drifted off in her own direction. ¡°Your job is now to facilitate introductions between the two Domains and pair people up with adequate conversation partners, got it?¡± ¡°Kuravaan didn¡¯t do that when we were at their place!¡± ¡°Yeah, because that was just a warmup and show of faith, pay attention.¡± Horan loosened his grip on Omet. ¡°Look, those four are going to be fine. Mark, Waia and maybe Quet are an all-star cast for survival, and you¡¯re more useful here. Just think long-term, okay? I can¡¯t keep hyping you up forever, I need to change. Semi-formal isn¡¯t going to cut it, and anything besides eveningwear is out of the question.¡± Omet grumbled to themself, but continued forward with Horan. ¡°Okay, fine, I¡¯ll try and smooth things over here. But, uh, one quick favor¡­¡± They fished their notebook out of their back pocket and handed it to Horan. ¡°Can you just pass this to one of my siblings and tell them that it¡¯s from me?¡± ¡°¡­Sure?¡± ¡°Thanks so much. And please don¡¯t look inside, it¡¯s this whole thing, I¡¯ll explain later.¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Horan shrugged. ¡°Alright.¡± ¡°Promise?¡± Horan traced an X over his heart. ¡°Sorry for the secrecy,¡± said Omet, wincing slightly, ¡°but it¡¯ll either be worth it in the end or not matter. I¡¯ll, uh, I¡¯ll see you later.¡± They scurried into the crowd and out of sight of Horan, sighing with relief. They approached the half-dozen or so Indians watching the band play on their makeshift stage. They stood between two bystanders and cleared their throat. ¡°Uh, hi, I haven¡¯t really had the chance to get to know any of you. How¡¯s the music so far?¡± One of the Indians pursed her lips. ¡°What is that? Jazz?¡± Omet chuckled. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s, uh¡­ Hurat, the guy before me, he saw that a lot of us were entering a bit of a funk, like a lot of us were going through a rough patch, this would¡¯ve been pretty much exactly a century ago. So what he did, is he just spent a month straight backpacking from here to San Francisco and back, checking out venues in every big city on the map. And he just tried to get everyone into some hobby or craft that he thought would gel with us. These four (and Hurat too, a little) got into jazz performance, I got into gothic literature, and in general, and the whole family actually started doing musical theater. Not sure how we got there, but it¡¯s still super fun to do at public venues. We¡¯ve even hosted a few shows at home, back when there were people nearby to come and watch. Hey, does anyone in your Domain do anything performance-wise? Music, acting, whatever, I¡¯m just curious.¡± The Indian to Omet¡¯s left shrugged. ¡°Strange thing to invest into.¡± Omet smiled nervously. ¡°Yeah, well, I think that that period was kind of the point where the whole family started to figure out what it¨C¡± The Indian to the right leaned past Omet. ¡°I think one of the pianist¡¯s keys is broken, it sounds like they skip a note every now and then.¡± ¡°I think you might be right, actually,¡± said the one on the left. ¡°Oh,¡± mumbled Omet, ¡°guess you¡¯re in the middle of someth¡­ Uh, I¡¯ll go see what everyone else is up to.¡± They scurried over to the buffet tables, where an Indian was busy covering his plate in bits of food that were usually reserved for dessert. ¡°Hi, looks like you¡¯ve spotted what you like here, huh?¡± They inserted a fake laugh for effect. The Indian shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a party, no need to follow that pyramid thing.¡± ¡°The¡­? Oh, right, the one for healthy diets. Yeah, a few people asked our resident chef, Quet, to add more of this kind of thing than usual, but she insisted that we maintain a more balanced selection. I guess it makes sense, we don¡¯t know what you guys like.¡± The Indian pointed to a plate close to the end of the table. ¡°Are those gummy worms?¡± Omet squinted. ¡°Yeah, I think they are. Weird, Quet isn¡¯t usually a fan of packaged food like that. I guess it¡¯s already a minor miracle that we got all of this set up on such short notice, maybe a few people tried to chip in with their personal stashes. I¡¯ll ask when she gets back from her¡­ trip.¡± ¡°And how old did you say your Domain was?¡± ¡°Um, seven hundred,¡± said Omet. ¡°Almost exactly.¡± ¡°Typical behavior,¡± muttered the Indian, heading off with his food. Omet sighed, picked up a plate, and began to gather a meal for themself. While they drifted from table to table, they tried to listen in on a conversation that Saralai was having with two Indians nearby. ¡°And the thing is, said Saralai animatedly, ¡°Back when everything was about presenting your products on that¡­ What was it called? The thing that lets you use computers like telephones?¡± ¡°Inter-something,¡± said one of the Indians. ¡°I think so,¡± said Saralai. ¡°When the inter-who-cares made everything shop-shop-shop, it just made those same people come out of the woodwork and act like it would be the brand new way to do business, like everyone didn¡¯t say the same thing about magazine catalogues.¡± ¡°Humans and their screen-technology,¡± muttered an Indian, ¡°makes them feel special.¡± Omet tuned out the rest of the conversation and shuffled over to the couches surrounding the TV. They approached an Indian sitting in the middle of one of the couches and pointed at the spot next to her. ¡°This seat taken?¡± The Indian shook her head and shifted slightly to make room for Omet. Omet took a seat and placed their plate on their lap. After a few moments of eating in silence, they spoke up. ¡°So have you noticed that¡­ technology, it¡¯s¡­ uh¡­¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t ask you earlier,¡± said the Indian, ¡°but seriously, garden care isn¡¯t out of the question just because there¡¯s no more sun.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± exclaimed Omet, ¡°you¡¯re the one who asked that outside? Sorry, uh, I couldn¡¯t really get a good look at you in the crowd.¡± ¡°M-hm.¡± ¡°But the garden thing isn¡¯t really something that we¡¯ve given much thought to,¡± said Omet. ¡°We, uh¡­ We don¡¯t get out much these days. Maybe two or three major trips since the Nabbing, and those kinda tended on the unfortunate side¡­¡± They sighed slowly and let the cookie in their hand fall back onto their plate. ¡°Things really have been getting worse with every new day, huh?¡± ¡°Wh¡­ What do you mean?¡± The Indian shifted nervously. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I dunno, it¡¯s self-centered to say that the world¡¯s out to get us specifically. I saw firsthand what you¡¯ve been dealing with when I showed up outside your house. But we certainly weren¡¯t seeing armies of animal-monsters and invasions from the afterlife back when the sun still shone.¡± The Indian shrugged. ¡°Deus wasn¡¯t useless.¡± ¡°I dunno,¡± mumbled Omet, ¡°maybe. Doesn¡¯t feel nice to think that that guy was the only thing keeping things together¡­ Hey, how have things been going on your end with all this? Didn¡¯t you and the Chinese come together to stop that Egyptian guy¡¯s army last year? How did that turn out?¡± The Indian got up and left, following a gaggle of her peers who had just split off from a congregation of Greeks. ¡°¡­Okay, right.¡± Omet went back to their food in silence. A few minutes later, a few of their siblings sat next to them, holding plates of their own. ¡°Well,¡± said one, ¡°they¡¯re as much of a nightmare as we predicted.¡± Omet snorted. ¡°No luck for you guys either, huh?¡± ¡°If they didn¡¯t wanna be here,¡± muttered another, ¡°they could¡¯ve just turned us down.¡± ¡°Classic move,¡± said the third. ¡°Digging into our food supplies. Don¡¯t they know we¡¯ve only got a few more months saved? Vegetables are hard to come across these days!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that big a deal,¡± said Omet, shushing their third sibling. ¡°Just¡­ humor them, for now. I¡¯ve got a contingency brewing.¡± They noticed another Aztec approach the couches, stapled-together bundles of pages slung under her arm. ¡°And speaking of¡­¡± The Aztec gave each of her siblings a set of the pages. ¡°You print fast, Xicat,¡± said Omet. ¡°Can¡¯t thank you enough, really. This is gonna be so worth it if things go wrong.¡± One of the seated Aztecs examined the first page. ¡°¡­Operation Netherworld?¡± ¡°Read through it,¡± said Omet, grinning. ¡°It¡¯ll be familiar to you all.¡± Chapter 24 Quet stumbled along the road alongside Mark and Omet, her emergency matrix-blanket wrapped around the three of them. She pulled a stone out of her pocket and tapped it, revealing a digital clock interface. ¡°Okay, so it was an eight, maybe nine-minute drive from our house to where you were, and that was as the crow flies¡­ Maybe an hour?¡± Waia, who was travelling a few feet behind the other three, looked back to see pinpricks of light silhouetted against the distant cloud cover. Her ears, given new clarity by the attention of the Servants, picked up the faintest traces of approaching rotors. ¡°We don¡¯t have that kind of time.¡± Mark clenched his teeth and tried to steady his shaky heartbeat. ¡°Hiding won¡¯t work, they¡¯ll just get more of those things¡­¡± Omet sighed and glanced at Mark. ¡°This¡¯ll take a lot of explaining, but I¡¯m starting to regret ditching that guy who was camped outside of our house.¡± Before Mark could question Omet¡¯s statement, a thin film pulled itself off of Omet¡¯s cardigan and fell to the ground, rising and solidifying into the shape of a red-eyed Mark before them. ¡°Did somebody say they miss me?¡± Quet screamed and fell backwards, her blanket pulling Mark and Omet down with her. Waia immediately leapt forward and grabbed Rachna by the throat. In response, Rachna merely sniggered, his speech unaffected by the hand squeezing his windpipe. ¡°I know you feel like asking, and yes, I was hiding because I knew this exact thing would happen.¡± He patted Waia¡¯s arm. ¡°It goes without saying by now, but you really are horrifyingly predictable. Even more so than the rest!¡± Waia lifted Rachna off the ground. Rachna¡¯s legs elongated so that he was still standing straight. In response, Waia tightened her grip. ¡°It¡¯s been a long couple hours, and I¡¯m too tired to deal with whatever you¡¯re doing right now. Who are you?¡± Quet pulled herself from the ground and tapped Waia¡¯s shoulder. ¡°He¡¯s the guy Omet mentioned just now. He¡¯s harmless. We¡¯re pretty sure.¡± ¡°You folks have plenty of people ¡®trying¡¯ to ¡®kill¡¯ you already,¡± said Rachna, making air quotes with his hands. ¡°Felt like the scales could do with some balancing. Shame I can¡¯t do that, but whatever.¡± ¡°Whatever you say,¡± muttered Waia, letting go of Rachna¡¯s throat. She folded her arms as his legs returned to their normal length. ¡°If you¡¯re not here to ¡®kill¡¯ us¨C¡± She mockingly imitated his air quotes. ¡°¨Cwhat are you here for?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t reverse the inevitable,¡± declared Rachna, ¡°our favorite campfire made sure of that. All I can really do is make the trip through the teeth a little comfier for the five of¡­¡± He squinted at a spot to Mark¡¯s right for a moment. ¡°Sorry, for the four of you. Lazuli Breeze is still stacking kindling; he can¡¯t be here. As I was saying, the oil spill is standing a mean average of three point seven one metres behind you and wants to scare you like I did in order to be funny. It won¡¯t be.¡± A scrawny-looking human stepped out from behind a tree, scowling at Rachna. ¡°Really? You came all this way just to ruin my fun?¡± ¡°Eyes for an eye!¡± screamed Rachna, before hissing like a cat and melting into the soil. ¡°¡­Incoherent freak.¡± The human stranger turned to see Mark pointing his gun at their face. ¡°Afternoon. If it helps, I¡¯m a better conversationalist than that last guy.¡± They pulled their foot out of a mouth that had formed out of the ground beneath them. ¡°Stop being disgusting! You don¡¯t like me, I get it!¡± ¡°Just get to the point and identify yourself,¡± said Mark calmly. ¡°Okay, fine, I get it,¡± groaned the stranger. ¡°You haven¡¯t heard of me, but a couple of you have definitely seen me.¡± They paused and looked at the four people in front of them expectantly. Quet shrugged while she dusted her blanket off on the ground. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you in my life.¡± ¡°Same here,¡± said Waia, ¡°ex-boyfriends don¡¯t usually act so calm when they track me down, and that rules out most people I¡¯ve spoken to in the last sixty-odd years.¡± Quet raised an arm towards Waia in a silent request for a high five, which Waia obliged without taking her eyes off the person in front of her. The stranger grimaced at Waia. ¡°Seriously? Nothing? Don¡¯t recognize the scar on the nose?¡± They looked at Mark. ¡°Neither of you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t look at me,¡± said Mark, keeping the gun trained on the stranger¡¯s chest. The stranger groaned. ¡°Okay, fine, I¡¯m the one who greeted you two when you arrived in the city. Happy?¡± ¡°Not ringing a bell,¡± said Waia. The stranger muttered something under their breath before regaining their composure. ¡°Whatever. Call me Esparza. For the record, I don¡¯t work for the Servants, contrary to current evidence.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Mark looked at the approaching lights, just visible through the dead branches. They were wasting time that they had never had to begin with. ¡°Then why are you here? Talk faster.¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m not too fond of the idea of those souped-up idiots winning,¡± said Esparza. ¡°I¡¯ve got my own reasons to be doing what I¡¯m doing, but I¡¯d rather you all be alive than dead, so you can lower the gun if you feel like it. There¡¯s no world where you pull the trigger and make it to the end of the hour, I can assure you.¡± Mark lowered his gun. ¡°So, what are you, a Primus?¡± ¡°Nothing so grand, no.¡± Esparza stepped forward and flicked a speck of dust off of Quet¡¯s blanket that she had missed. ¡°As you just noticed, time is of the essence, so I¡¯ll keep that in mind. All you need to know is that you¡¯re being watched by a party interested in seeing you make it through this, and the Servants are complicating that matter right now. There¡¯s a gassed-up and ready station wagon with the keys on the hood about three minutes that way.¡± They pointed off into the woods. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you in the slightest,¡± said Waia. ¡°Good,¡± declared Esparza, grinning. ¡°Means you¡¯re making the right decisions. But I¡¯ve said my piece, so unless you feel like fulfilling my prophecy, go ahead and take my little gift. I¡¯m not coercing you, but as I¡¯ve pointed out, you all make the right decisions. I¡¯ll take my leave.¡± They spun around and walked into the woods, stumbling over an exposed root on their way out. After a moment of silence, Mark threw his hands up and stormed off in the direction that Esparza had pointed in. ¡°You know what? Why not. I could gamble with my life a little more. Who¡¯s up for some invisible-strings-attached gifts?! I am!¡± Quet picked her blanket up and tapped the glyph sown into the fabric, folding the blanket into a pebble which she stuffed inside her pocket. ¡°I¡¯m up. Gifts always come with strings anyway.¡± Omet quickly followed suit, leaving Waia alone. ¡°¡®right decision¡¯,¡± she muttered, before heading off to catch up with the others. ¡°What decision?¡± Mark realized that the baby-blue car was considerably closer than Esparza had stated, though everything else they had claimed was true. He took the keys off the hood, unlocked the car, and climbed inside the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Haven¡¯t been eaten yet. Better than I expected.¡± He inspected the glove compartment and cup holders, but stopped when he saw Quet open the backseat door. ¡°Not yet.¡± Quet watched Mark climb back out of the car and open the hood. ¡°¡­What are you doing?¡± Mark disconnected the car¡¯s battery. ¡°Agreeing with Waia. Do you have anything in your pockets that can detect electricity?¡± Omet glanced in the direction of the approaching Servants. ¡°Is now the right time to be this careful?¡± Mark ignored them and took a stone from Quet, squeezing it and running it over the engine. ¡°How do I tell if it detects anything?¡± Quet blushed and tapped two fingers against her thigh. ¡°Uh¡­ You¡¯ll know it when you see it.¡± Mark spent a few moments holding the stone near every part of the car he could think of, receiving no response. He re-inserted the battery and gave the stone back to Quet, who sighed with relief. ¡°If it isn¡¯t clean, it¡¯s magic, and I can¡¯t be bothered to check for that. Get in, now.¡± Omet climbed into the passenger seat next to Mark. ¡°You know which way is east?¡± ¡°I have a vague idea,¡± mumbled Mark turning the keys in the ignition and bringing the engine to life. Quet looked through the rear window and saw a helicopter-mounted spotlight approaching the car. ¡°We need to get moving, they¡¯re coming this way!¡± Mark slammed his foot on the accelerator, but the spotlight found the car long before he could reach top speed. The car¡¯s four inhabitants braced for impact, but the spotlight swiftly moved on without a moment¡¯s lingering on the moving vehicle. Omet watched the helicopter move forward into the distance. ¡°Did¡­ they¡­ not see us?¡± Mark kept his eyes fixed on the path in front of the car. ¡°They had to have, we¡¯re a moving blue spot on a brown background. They¡¯re doing something.¡± ¡°Maybe they didn¡¯t think we¡¯d be in a car like this or something,¡± said Quet, ¡°there are probably still a few people out here who haven¡¯t signed up to the Servants.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not gonna make an assumption like that at this point,¡± said Mark, ¡°we¡¯ve made too much of a scene for them to just let us go like that.¡± Waia cracked her knuckles. ¡°Well, if they still insist on trying to keep us down after everything they¡¯ve thrown at us, I¡¯m gonna show them¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯re gonna show them nothing,¡± snapped Mark, gripping the steering wheel. ¡°Oh really?¡± Waia leaned between the front two seats. ¡°Then what exactly is your grand plan, if you¡¯re so confident that I¡¯m gonna mess everything up? Huh?!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Mark tersely, glancing at Waia¡¯s head next to him, ¡°but can we please go five minutes without you derailing us to kill something? This is probably our last chance, so if you can¡¯t¨C¡± Omet grabbed the steering wheel. ¡°Look out!¡± Mark¡¯s head snapped forward, just in time to see that the car was on a collision course with the side of a Servant ATV. He attempted to swerve, but failed to turn away in time. With a dull flash of blue light, the car passed clean through the side of the vehicle. Waia looked out the window to see a cross-section of the ATV, with three Huntsmen sitting in the backseat, completely unaware of her presence. A split second later, the car had completely passed through the other end and was continuing down the road, undamaged. ¡°¡­Huh.¡± Mark tried to steady his breathing and shifted his grip on the steering wheel. ¡°¡­We need to get back home. Now.¡± Quet looked through the rear window to see the ATV continue on its own road, unaffected by the passage of a car straight through its middle. ¡°Complete invisibility and intangibility, with no visual signifiers beforehand¡­ Fascinating¡­¡± ¡°Fascinating how?¡± asked Omet, looking back at Quet. ¡°Fascinating in that someone around here knows what they¡¯re doing. I¡¯m getting the feeling that we wouldn¡¯t have detected that beforehand, even if we had tried.¡± ¡°I¡¯m liking this car less and less,¡± muttered Waia, shrinking back into her seat. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t either,¡± agreed Quet, ¡°if I were you.¡± Chapter 25 Horan watched the crowd congeal into small blobs of conversation before splitting apart a few minutes later, the socialization separating the Indians, Aztecs and Greeks into their own camps more and more with each passing moment. He sighed and swirled his drink, leaning forward on his cushion of thin air and rising another ten feet, now eye level with the fourth level of Aztec bedrooms. He watched another Aztec retreat to their room, clutching a stack of papers to their chest. When he looked back down, his attention was drawn to fresh movement by the entrance. The door was opening. He dove down to greet the returning expedition(s), then gasped in shock when he saw the state of Mark, Waia, Quet and the purple-eyed Omet. ¡°What happened to you guys?!¡± ¡°Quet¡¯s room,¡± said Mark, clutching his side. ¡°We¡¯ve got some stuff.¡± Omet nodded and split apart from the rest of the group, the dried gold staining their head catching a few concerned looks from partygoers. ¡°Let me just meet up with my other-me, and I¡¯ll be right there.¡± ¡°Be quick,¡± said Mark, before leading the rest towards the stairs. Similar to the reactions to Omet, the crowd parted for them with a few shocked gasps and several uncomfortable stares. Quet wrapped her trembling arms around herself, Horan gave out awkward smiles to any Indian who noticed the procession, and Mark and Waia ignored the crowd entirely. Upstairs, Quet ushered the group inside her darkened bedroom before hastily shutting the door behind her. Horan ran a hand through his hair and paced to the other side of the room. ¡°They¡¯re totally gonna notice that we¡¯re gone¡­¡± ¡°Worry about that later,¡± said Waia. ¡°Okay. Right. You¡¯re right.¡± Horan took a deep breath and turned around. ¡°Well, first of all, what happened?! You said you were just going to be doing some scouting or whatever!¡± ¡°We ended up improvising a little,¡± said Waia. Mark began counting on his fingers. ¡°I got interrogated, Waia got stabbed, then she was carried off by a flamethrower dragonfly and I got stabbed by a tree-thing, Quet, Omet and I were shot out of the sky¡­¡± ¡°That matrix took three weeks to get right,¡± huffed Quet. ¡°¡­I probably shouldn¡¯t have driven us back here in my condition,¡± said Mark, clutching his chest. ¡°I¡¯m still in a little bit of shock.¡± Waia raised her hand. ¡°I also got shot in the face by a tank, but it¡¯s cool now.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± Horan gulped and sat down on the floor. ¡°And, um¡­ And what did you get out of all this?¡± Mark pulled the folder out of his hoodie pocket. ¡°Not much, probably. We¡¯re not sure. The map in here is coded or in a magic language or something, Waia and I can¡¯t read it.¡± While Mark pulled the map out of the folder, Waia continued for him. ¡°Not really much of a scouting mission, to be honest. The most productive thing I did was wipe a city¡¯s worth of Servants off the map.¡± Mark unfolded the map on the floor. ¡°And we¡¯ll discuss that later.¡± Waia snorted. ¡°What are you, my mom?¡± ¡°Someone needs to be one for you maniacs. Quet, could you get the lights?¡± Quet switched on the bedroom lights before hurrying over to look at the map. Mark pointed out the marked spot for her and Horan. ¡°¡­Looks a bit too rushed to be a magic language, you learn to write glacially in those very early on, it¡¯s ingrained into your brain.¡± Waia groaned. ¡°So, what, is it a cipher? Do we need to head back out and kidnap someone to translate for us?¡± Horan squinted at the writings, then looked up at Mark and Waia. ¡°This is copperplate.¡± ¡°¡­Cop a what?¡± Horan pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not a code. It just says ¡®Seraphium¡¯ in copper¡­ Hang on, what?¡± He grabbed the map and examined it closer. ¡°He hid the Seraphium in Mexico? Right here?¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Depends on what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Omet opened the door halfway and knocked. ¡°What¡¯d I miss?¡± Quet gestured for them to come inside. ¡°Good timing. Ever heard of a Seraphium?¡± Omet shut the door behind them, tossed a small stack of papers onto Quet¡¯s desk and sat down in front of the map. ¡°Oh, you mean Deus¡¯ teleporter thing? Yeah, Horan told me about it this morning. How do you know about it?¡± Waia slid the map towards Omet. ¡°We stole a map from the Servants that says it¡¯s a twenty-minute drive from your house.¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°¡­Neat." Horan steepled his fingers and stared intently at the map. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ I mean, he¡¯s got plenty of things and people to hide away, there¡¯s probably stuff like this all over the place¡­ Maybe it¡¯s¡­¡± Omet knelt down and glanced at the door, behind which the sound of the band¡¯s performance could still be heard. ¡°¡­Hey, uh, Horan, you said that Deus managed to make this Seraphium able to teleport him, right?¡± Three pairs of eyebrows shot up in unison. Horan looked up at Omet, puzzled. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the whole reason he¡­¡± His eyes drifted back down to the map. He mumbled something under his breath. Waia scoffed, but before she could say anything more, Mark leaned forward and put his hand on Horan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about this so hard. That last thing made me sure of it: This is the most obvious trap in the world. I¡¯ve got the full picture now, and I feel a little insulted.¡± Waia folded her arms and leaned back, trying to look at the map from a different angle. ¡°¡­So obvious that we¡¯re supposed to realize that it¡¯s a trap?¡± Quet stood up and began to pace, staring at the floor. Omet sighed at the sight. ¡°And now she¡¯s in one of her I-know-you-know loops. We¡¯re gonna be here a while.¡± ¡°Let me cook!¡± Quet began counting on her hands. ¡°We need to consider the possibility, therefore, that such a realization is intended, thus keeping us away from that location. However, this is a conclusion that we¡¯ve easily come to, so perhaps they¡¯re expecting us to come anyway, as a spiteful rejection of their intentions? But what if¡­¡± She looked up. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have let me cook.¡± Mark waved Quet down. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine, you¡¯ve got a point. Whatever their plan is ¨C and whoever ¡®they¡¯ is supposed to be ¨C it¡¯s not just a cut-and-dry trap, or basic reverse psychology.¡± ¡°Then what is it?¡± asked Omet. ¡°A last resort,¡± said Mark, folding the map back up and putting it aside. ¡°Everything about this, from the car, to the two guys right before the car, to Torch in general, it¡¯s all part of a game that we only play if we¡¯re out of options. There¡¯s absolutely no way that the magic get-Deus-to-fix-everything button has just been sitting in Mexico for who knows how many centuries. Best case scenario, it¡¯s some kind of¡­ I dunno, codeword for a meeting spot or something. And I don¡¯t feel good about that being the optimistic outcome.¡± Omet shrugged half-heartedly. ¡°Stick to plan A, then?¡± ¡°Stick to plan A,¡± confirmed Mark. ¡°The last people that I trust to hand us an out, easy or no, are the people who gassed an entire city just to kill one of us.¡± He let out a small chuckle. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a first. I guess your idea is actually the one I¡¯m willing to go with, Horan¡­ Horan?¡± Horan took a deep breath and stood up, nodding to himself. ¡°¡­Yeah. Last resort, yeah. No way it¡¯d just be there. There¡¯s a catch, yeah. I¡¯m saying ¡®yeah¡¯ too much.¡± Omet took Horan¡¯s hand in their own. ¡°Let¡¯s head back down, take your head off things. The gang¡¯s back together, and we don¡¯t need to worry about any curveballs for the rest of the night.¡± Quet sighed and made for the door. ¡°Okay, time to face the inevitable, I guess.¡± Omet raised their other hand. ¡°Just a second now. I did say this morning that you wouldn¡¯t have to do party stuff if you didn¡¯t want to.¡± Quet gasped. ¡°You did promise!¡± She wrapped one arm around Omet¡¯s neck in a loose hug. ¡°A hundred blessings upon your bloodline!¡± Omet noticed Horan smiling at them. ¡°C¡¯mon, I¡¯m just trying to make this pill go down smoother. Besides, I left a bit of stuff for her to read on the desk, preferably before things start to wind down downstairs.¡± Quet glanced at the papers, puzzled ¡°Reading material isn¡¯t exactly something you give to me on a regular basis, but I¡¯ll... look at it?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll understand what it¡¯s for soon.¡± Omet pulled Horan out of the room. ¡°C¡¯mon, I should explain what Mark meant by a car, because there were actually cars, plural.¡± Horan sighed at let himself be pulled out of the room. ¡°That¡­ That¡¯d be nice. We need to put you in literally anything other than your current outfit. You can not let your daywear and eveningwear be the name.¡± Quet looked at Mark and Waia, the only other people left in her room. ¡°¡­I take it you¡¯d rather hang out up here than down there? I get it, I¡¯m willing to do a bit of a private lounge spot. Gimme a sec.¡± She fished a stone out of her pocket and placed it on the floor. She bellowed ¡°New York style!¡± in a poor Brooklyn accent, and the stone blossomed into a half-and-half pizza on a wide plate. Quet pulled the cheese-covered stone out of the center of the pizza with a grimace, then placed it on her desk and pulled wet cloth out of one of the hidden drawers in the wall. ¡°I don¡¯t bring out the big guns for just anyone, you know. The matrix for controlled matter generation is confined to a single pebble, so it must be simple to design, right? Wrong. The accent was not an optional accessory, it was the only way I could figure out how to get the vocal activation to work. Dig in whenever you feel like it, and let my pain be my own.¡± Mark sat down on Quet¡¯s beanbag chair and listened to the muffled sounds coming from the floor. Waia noted his vacant expression. ¡°Let me guess, you want to talk about earlier.¡± ¡°Hang on, that reminds me.¡± Quet began to open drawers in the wall, seemingly at random. ¡°We should probably do something about that hole in Mark¡¯s ribs fast, huh?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had worse, it¡¯s not too bad if you ignore it,¡± said Mark. ¡°But I get the feeling that anything that still needs to be said isn¡¯t gonna do much to change things.¡± ¡°If it helps,¡± said Waia, sitting down and pulling out a slice of pizza for herself, ¡°I¡¯m not happy about this. I was hoping to put this whole ¡®uncontrollable murder-queen¡¯ stuff behind me, at least for a century or two. But our back is against the wall, and these people need to learn that they don¡¯t cross me and get away with it. When I can put all this behind me, I will, believe me.¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Just try to think about when you should as well. I¡¯m not gonna push you past that; like you said, I¡¯m not your mom.¡± Waia nodded. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯d rather we just focus on finishing this instead of sitting in a circle and talking about our feelings.¡± Mark sat down and pulled out a pizza slice of his own. ¡°I¡¯ll eat to that.¡± The two of them held their slices close to the others, then dug in as per Quet¡¯s instructions. Mark winced after swallowing. ¡°I¡¯m gonna wait until Quet patches me up, actually.¡± Quet called out from the stairway leading up to the platform above them. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bank on it. Why am I looking for first aid supplies in the bedroom of someone who can heal a broken bone in an hour?!¡± Chapter 26 Kuravaan leant against a wall of the foyer, staring absent-mindedly at the nearby band while they played their ninth song for the night. His attention was roused when he saw Horan and Omet approaching him. He sighed and nodded. Omet extended their hand. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s, uh, it¡¯s been a bit.¡± ¡°It¡¯s been thirty minutes,¡± said Kuravaan, shaking Omet¡¯s hand. Omet shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s been a lot longer since we were able to talk, and a lot¡¯s happened since then. Relatively speaking.¡± ¡°M-hm.¡± ¡°We just came here to do a bit of apologizing,¡± said Horan. ¡°We figured that a change in scenery might be enough to help the three of us get off on the right foot this time.¡± ¡°M-hm.¡± ¡°Things have been pretty awkward between the three of us,¡± admitted Omet, ¡°and I think that¡¯s been kind of bleeding over to the rest of our families. To help build some bridges between us, we think we could both work with some insider information regarding what makes some of your relatives tick. We didn¡¯t exactly plan out a tailor-made experience when we had to make preparations on such short notice, but we might still be able to do what we can to have a good time here.¡± Horan spoke before Kuravaan got a chance to respond. ¡°And yeah, we¡¯ve established that you¡¯re under no real obligation to help us, that¡¯s perfectly clear. But if you folks were, none of this¨C¡± He waved at the faltering festivities around him¨C ¡°would be necessary. So there¡¯s no need to remind us, we¡¯re already¡­ accommodating you.¡± Kuravaan¡¯s gaze flicked between the two Primoi in front of him, the odd syllable escaping his mouth before being promptly cut off. The only thing that could be gleaned from his expression was that he needed to work to keep it unreadable. Horan exchanged a glance with Omet a gesture which their pupil-free eyes hid from Kuravaan. ¡°Don¡¯t, um, don¡¯t worry too hard about it, we¡¯re trying to build a¨C¡± ¡°I know,¡± snapped Kuravaan, ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ We understand your investment in our contribution, and we know that you do not intend any sort of coercion in the matter, and this meeting is important to everyone here, so we are interested in communications with you. We understand as well that this sort of communication is important. One of our number fled off to Palestine under an assumed name to ¡®build his legacy¡¯ a few months ago, Black Emon or something, and we haven¡¯t heard from him since, and people are probably blaming me behind my back, and I shouldn¡¯t be telling¡­¡± He paused to take a breath, but did not continue once he was done. ¡°O¡­ Okay.¡± Omet took a small step away from Kuravaan. ¡°How about we give you a little time to think things over, and then come back when you¡¯re a little more ready for us?¡± Horan nodded and followed Omet away from Kuravaan and towards the center of the room. He only spoke once he was absolutely sure that the two of them were out of earshot. ¡°Okay, so he didn¡¯t say no¡­¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t say anything,¡± replied Omet. ¡°Minus that weird rant about his¨C¡± ¡°About the other thing,¡± interrupted Horan, ¡°it¡¯s true, yes. But we did just kind of spring a big shift in our approach on him, like you said to him. Playing hard-to-get is just part of the process, everyone knows that, and he¡¯s just not trying to look like he¡¯s being tided over. That¡¯s the simplest answer, I mean, you saw how he was trying to keep his poker face up. Have a little faith, dude.¡± Omet pursed their lips. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna provide any other theories as to why someone won¡¯t socialize at a party that he personally agreed to go to for the purposes of socializing, but he still smells off. All of these people do.¡± Horan looked around at the gaggles of Indians clustering around various points of interest around the foyer, many of whom seemed to be taking steps to maintain distance from the increasingly uncommon Aztecs and Greeks. ¡°If I were to hazard a guess,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s because they haven¡¯t exactly had the warmest welcome from you people.¡± ¡°I did actually try and approach them,¡± said Omet, choosing to ignore the ¡®you people¡¯, ¡°and I would like to point out that they didn¡¯t exactly stand out from Kuravaan¡¯s behavior. I know it does sound like I don¡¯t like them being here, but¡­ Okay, I don¡¯t, but I don¡¯t think they want me to like them here.¡± Horan shrugged and approached the buffet table. ¡°Look, I¡­ Nothing¡¯s changed about these people since we found out about what¡¯s going on¡­ out there. We¡¯ve kept that close to our chest so far, so they don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve had an out dangled in front of us¡­¡± ¡°¡­So?¡± Horan stared at the table in silence for a moment. ¡°¡­So they have some other reason to act like this. Maybe they¡¯re underestimating exactly what the Servants are doing, or¡­ Or they think that we¡¯re trying to get something out of this. My point is, whatever¡¯s going on between us and them all of a sudden, it must be us bringing it. And that means that we can still fix this. There¡¯s something we can do to make them trust us, there¡¯s got to be.¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Omet grabbed a plate and used a battered pair of tongs to gather up three chicken wings, then handed the plate to Horan. ¡°Stress-eating?¡± Horan sighed and cracked a smile before taking the plate from Omet. ¡°Stress-eating.¡± Omet sat on the floor while Horan folded his legs and floated a foot off the ground, plate nestled in his lap. Omet craned their neck up to look at their levitating companion. ¡°Hey, you think you can lift me too?¡± ¡°Not for very long,¡± said Horan. ¡°C¡¯mon, give it a shot.¡± ¡°Okay, fine.¡± Horan flexed his hand and Omet felt an updraft sweep beneath them, pushing them up so that they were eye-level with Horan. Omet giggled. ¡°Sweet.¡± ¡°It¡¯s unique as far as I know,¡± said Horan sheepishly, ¡°but it¡¯s not sweet. By our standards, at least. Omet reached down and pushed against the ground, performing a sluggish somersault through the air. ¡°It¡¯s unique as far as I know, too. It¡¯s not every day I get to flip around like an astronaut. By which I mean I¡¯ve never gotten to do this before.¡± ¡°Three months ago, you rode a flying boat-cuttlefish into a giant glowing orb that shot lightning. There are a whole lot of things that are a bigger deal than floating a foot off the ground.¡± Omet spun around so that they were completely upside-down, their hair hanging loose from their scalp. ¡°Sure there are bigger deals, but I don¡¯t have a friend who can just do that stuff casually. I¡¯m gonna make you do this for me every chance I get from now on, just watch me.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend you stay upside down,¡± said Horan, ¡°you¡¯re gonna¨C¡± Omet winced and tried to right themself. ¡°Ow, ow, head rush.¡± ¡°There it is.¡± Horan reached over and flipped Omet upright. Omet blinked in a daze. ¡°Thanks, uh, wow, gold is heavy.¡± ¡°What a twist.¡± Omet looked at Horan for a moment. ¡°I know you don¡¯t put much into promises, so I¡¯ll just say it: We¡¯re gonna get through this. I know all this is fraying your nerves a l¨C more than a little, so¡­ Well, you¡¯ve got work to do, and you¡¯re gonna do it whether or not it¡¯s a good idea, so just know that I can get your back whenever you need me. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll have much else on my plate at any given moment.¡± Horan looked down at the plate in his lap. ¡°My chicken-gift is getting cold.¡± ¡°Actually, that¡¯s true, you should probably get to that before it gets all nasty and room-temperature. Can you set me down real quick? I¡¯m gonna get some stuff for myself.¡± ¡°You can just touch the ground with your feet and it¡¯ll wear off by itself.¡± Omet stretched their legs out until they were standing straight. ¡°Huh. You learn something new every day.¡± Horan rolled his eye. ¡°You really do make a big deal out of everything, huh?¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°A lot of things are just big deals to me, what can I say?¡± After filling up their second plate for the night, Omet had Horan lift them back into the air, and quickly convinced him to let the two of them eat together in Horan¡¯s spot well above the rest of the party. ¡°Oh man,¡± said Omet, looking down at the drop directly below them. ¡°I¡¯m so glad I¡¯m not Mark right now.¡± ¡°Can you maybe be a little more careful?¡± urged Horan. ¡°You might drop something, or something might happen and I might drop you.¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± ¡°But I might.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t. Call it a hunch.¡± Horan sighed. ¡°Whatever, fine.¡± Omet looked down at the people below. ¡°See, isn¡¯t this better? Two dudes, as your vocabulary would put it, hanging out and talking about absolutely nothing of any value whatsoever. We don¡¯t do this enough.¡± ¡°Talk about things of absolutely no value?¡± ¡°No, hang out.¡± Omet stuffed a chunk of lamb into a half-open piece of flat bread. ¡°You barely talk to anyone compared to when you¡¯re with Mark. What¡¯s up with that, anyway? I get that the two of you are, like, the thing, but you always act like you¡¯re the most stranger-friendly person around.¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Been a rough year. I like familiarity, and a friend of eight months beats a friend of four.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯ve known each other for longer than that.¡± ¡°Our interactions with each other before February consisted of Mark introducing you to me, us spending ten minutes trying to kill Thel, and then your family leaving. That¡¯s a business acquaintance at best.¡± Omet looked at their makeshift sandwich. ¡°¡­This is starting to explain things.¡± ¡°There¡¯ve been too many crises in the past three and a half years for me to feel safe.¡± Omet nodded somberly. ¡°Guess that¡¯s the main thing we¡¯ve been trying to fix this whole time, huh? Feeling safe?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the main thing that everyone¡¯s been trying to fix since the beginning of time. We¡¯re not special.¡± Omet stayed silent for a long time. Right when Horan thought that the conversation had officially ended, they gave their answer: ¡°I guess it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯ll be there at the end of time, huh? Plenty of chances to fix things for good.¡± Horan snorted. ¡°Your mind fascinates me.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯m doing something right. When things get predictable, things get safe. And me being the safe one is a concept that I won¡¯t live with.¡± ¡°Omet, you¡¯re wearing a cardigan.¡± ¡°It¡¯s comfy and I like how I look in it, what do you want?¡± ¡°You know what?¡± Horan held up a hand. ¡°Forget I said anything. You win. You¡¯re a menace to society.¡± ¡°I would like to clarify that I¡¯m joking, by the way.¡± Horan raised an eyebrow. ¡°You learn to never assume that kind of thing when neither party in the conversation can lie. The ban seems to kick in at random when it comes to saying things in jest.¡± Omet nodded again. ¡°I¡¯ve begun to notice. Also, our food is getting old again, we should probably do something about that.¡± Chapter 27 Mark flipped through the spiral notebook and glanced at the sheet of paper on the floor. ¡°So, wait, where do I find the spheres?¡± Quet silently read the papers that Omet had left her, leaning back in her desk¡¯s swivel chair. ¡°They¡¯re mentioned individually in the table of contents, so you can skip to the ones you start with.¡± ¡°¡­And which ones do I start with?¡± ¡°It says right at the start of the section.¡± ¡°And which clan am I?¡± ¡°Wrong ga¨C¡± Quet sighed. ¡°I give up. Read by yourself until you remember things.¡± From the platform above their heads, Waia leaned over the railing. ¡°Hey Quet, is there literally a single thing in your room that isn¡¯t completely soul-sucking?¡± ¡°I was asked about what we can do to pass the time,¡± said Quet, not looking up from her papers, ¡°and I obliged with my RPG books. Not my fault you have no sense of imagination.¡± ¡°Imagination shmimam¨C nag¨C Nothing on paper is ever fun! Paper is for money and contracts, and I hate both of those!¡± ¡°This is a no-yelling environment,¡± said Quet. ¡°Please use your inside voice, it stresses me out otherwise.¡± Waia groaned and slid away from the railing, lying on the uncarpeted wooden floor. ¡°If the two of us bore you,¡± mumbled Mark, ¡°you can just go downstairs and do extrovert things, unless your principles still forbid you from doing party-related things.¡± Another groan issued from above him. ¡°Okay.¡± Mark looked at the notebook¡¯s table of contents. Given that Quet had apparently copied out the entire contents of an actual rulebook by hand, the contents ended after listing off the first twenty pages, seemingly out of boredom. ¡°We can¡¯t build another death ray, right? That was more fun than filling in circles.¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°If you can clear out enough space, figure out how to alter our schematics in order to build a death ray that works, and un-disintegrate by travel sash, go right ahead. If you¡¯re proposing that we just do something generally magic-related, I would recommend that you start reading up on the basics of thaumatology. I don¡¯t have any resources like that on hand, though.¡± Mark rested his head on his knees for a few moments. After a while, he got up and shuffled closer to Quet. ¡°What are you reading, anyway?¡± Quet leaned forward to shield the paper from Mark¡¯s view. ¡°Page one specifically instructs me to avoid disclosure of any information to anyone not part of the accepted part of the family. The only part of Operation Netherworld that I¡¯m allowed to show you is the part where it says that.¡± ¡°¡­Did Omet write that?¡± ¡°Not word for word, but that¡¯s the rule.¡± Quet flipped back several stapled-together pages. ¡°This is a possibility, and you don¡¯t need to worry about the scheme unless we all have reason to. I like being a good sister, I¡¯m not spilling.¡± Mark shrugged and stepped away, taking a seat on the beanbag chair in the corner. He watched Waia slither limply down the spiral staircase like a leather-clad snake. ¡°That has to be uncomfortable.¡± Waia reached the bottom of the stairs and pulled herself towards Mark with her arms. ¡°Not worth standing.¡± ¡°And to think,¡± muttered Mark, ¡°two hours ago, you were this hyperactive murder-queen¡­ Wow, you really did kill a lot of people, huh?¡± Quet hunched further over her papers and reached for a pair of headphones hanging from the desk lamp. ¡°Not my first time,¡± mumbled Waia, her voice ice cold. ¡°Not something I¡¯m very fond of discussing, so if you could drop this part of the conversation, I¡¯d really appreciate it.¡± Mark folded his arms and stared at the carpet. ¡°Thanks.¡± Waia pulled herself up and leaned against the wall. ¡°¡­Did you think about it while you were doing it?¡± Waia winced. ¡°I just¨C¡± ¡°Just¡­ curious.¡± Mark pulled his arms closer to his chest. ¡°When you were pulling helicopters out of the sky and crushing jeeps, did you, like process it? Did the thought of ¡®hey, there are people in there¡¯ register for you?¡± Waia¡¯s posture stiffened. ¡°Look, if you¡¯ve decided out of the blue to start judging me for everything, you should¨C¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°I¡¯m not judging you,¡± said Mark, eyes still fixed to the floor. ¡°I¡¯m in no place to do anything like that. When I said I was curious, I wasn¡¯t being coy. I am. Curious, I mean.¡± Waia clenched her jaw. ¡°I¡­ No. I didn¡¯t think about that, while it was happening. I wasn¡¯t thinking about much of anything. I saw the tanks and guns and masks, and I knew they belonged to the bad guys, and I knew they wanted me dead, and I did something about it. Not much time or space for contemplation.¡± Mark nodded curtly. ¡°Not like you do it much differently, right?¡± Mark glanced in Waia¡¯s direction. ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯ve got any pristine baby hands or anything,¡± said Waia. ¡°I saw the mess you made back in the Down Below. Or, uh, those people don¡¯t leave much of a¡­ I know you killed people back then, okay? So don¡¯t act all innocent, I know you¡¯re in on it too. You killed that Thel guy.¡± ¡°And others,¡± said Mark. ¡°Before Thel, a bunch of his demon minions, and some Chinese guy who kidnapped Horan. Before that, a couple people working for that Huntmaster guy, before he got the job. Before that, two or three more demons, by the Suez Canal. Before that¡­¡± He swallowed. ¡°I¡­ won¡¯t¡­ I won¡¯t let that number go up any more.¡± ¡°Big words for someone who owns a shapeshifting Swiss Army gun,¡± said Waia. ¡°I should¡¯ve said that a long time ago,¡± mumbled Mark. Waia nodded. ¡°Seems like it, seeing as you¡¯re gonna have to break that little promise pretty soon.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know that. We¡¯ve got people downstairs so that we won¡¯t have to.¡± Waia scoffed. ¡°Typical. You do realize that getting someone else to do the deed won¡¯t make your hands any less dirty, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± Mark sighed. ¡°I¡­ I know that, yeah.¡± ¡°Well, if you know that, why are you so on-board with Horan fulfilling his diplomatic fantasies and roping a fresh Domain into this?¡± Mark looked back at the floor. Waia huffed. ¡°You can¡¯t just keep going like this with nothing but the idea of things working out to back you up. Like it or not, I at least know where I¡¯m going with all this. I keep hearing all this big talk about you being the one who makes all the plans, but you haven¡¯t exactly acted like you have one.¡± ¡°¡­I just don¡¯t want anyone to get hur¨C¡± ¡°People have already been hurt, Mark! That¡¯s the whole reason why I¡¯m here!¡± Waia stepped away from the wall and stood in front of Mark, arms folded and eyes smoldering. ¡°Like it or not, the Servants have gotten the ball rolling. They need to pay for what they¡¯ve done to the Chinese, and the Hawaiians, and the people who¡¯ve tried to stop them, and the people who they turned into those things, and¡­¡± She held herself back from continuing. Mark nodded in response to the silence. ¡°Yeah, you get it, don¡¯t you? White-picket families or no, they¡¯ve poked the bear. I had something, you know. I had people who believed in me, who counted on me, I had a shot at doing something with my life after all these years, I had a chance to feel good about myself! And then they happened, and I need to fix this!¡± ¡°You can¡¯t¨C¡± Waia took a step towards Mark. ¡°They won¡¯t leave me in peace, so why should I leave them? They want to throw away my shot before I can really shoot it, so why should I give them a shot of their own? I¡¯m not allowed to be happy for once in my life, so why should they?!¡± Quet gripped her headphones. ¡°Weren¡¯t the ones who hurt you in Hawaii?¡± Waia turned slowly. ¡°¡­What?¡± Hesitantly, Quet pulled her headphones off, and stared at the wall in front of you. ¡°We¡¯re thousands of kilometers away from there. The Servants here are innocent, aren¡¯t they?¡± ¡°¡­Innocent?¡± Waia looked between Quet and Mark, neither of whom met her gaze. ¡°I don¡¯t care if the ones here are a bunch of pacifist farmers or what. It doesn¡¯t matter if they¡¯re ¡®innocent¡¯, they¡¯re complicit! They all know what they signed up for! What they did to me, it¡¯s like a nine-to-five job for them! You saw what they did for show when they first showed up, Mark! Not a single one of them has tried to do anything about this! If they wanted to be innocent, they wouldn¡¯t have joined in the first place! They know what they¡¯re doing, they can¡¯t back out of the consequences now!¡± ¡°And who are you to decide what those consequences are?¡± asked Mark. ¡°And who are you to tell me I¡¯m wrong?!¡± Waia leaned over Mark, dwarfing him in her shadow. ¡°The only reason you¡¯ve been jumping through all these hoops to put other people between you and them is because you don¡¯t want to end up like me. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s had to see firsthand that these people won¡¯t hesitate to burn down your life and leave you to die. You can talk big all you want, both of you, but I¡¯m the only one who really gets what we need to do to fix this. Are we clear?¡± Mark sighed. ¡°Just¡­ What even is there to fix?¡± Waia¡¯s face contorted into a furious scowl. ¡°Everything, as long as you have what it takes to fix it. It was my¡­ I had people to protect, and I failed, and now I need to make things right. And so help me, I will not rest, or show mercy, or let myself know peace until I¡¯m done. I fail all the time, you¡¯ve seen how often I do that today. But I don¡¯t lose.¡± ¡°So we¡¯ve heard,¡± mumbled Quet. ¡°I really do hope you¡¯re right.¡± Waia sniffed. ¡°I am, and I¡¯ve crossed the Pacific Ocean to prove it. So you can all hide up here and hope that the people downstairs have it in their hearts to fix all your problems for you. But I already know what we need to do to fix things. You can come tell me when you¡¯ve decided to agree. I¡¯ll be downstairs, getting something to¡­ Whatever.¡± Quet watched Waia stomp over to the other side of the room and shut the door behind her. Once she was sure that Waia was out of earshot, she slumped out of her chair and sat on the floor. ¡°We¡¯re so dead.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± said Mark, sitting in front of her. ¡°We die when we die, anything that tries to predict it is pointless.¡± Quet shrugged and unzipped one of the suddenly-present pockets on her skirt. ¡°Fair point, I failed to uphold my ¡®no bummers¡¯ rule, you can verify that downstairs. You wanna play sudoku?¡± Mark promptly stood up. ¡°Okay, Waia was right, your room is going to bore me to death. I¡¯m just gonna go through your bookshelf and see if there¡¯s anything vaguely interesting there.¡± Quet zipped her pockets shut and folded her arms. ¡°You guys suck.¡± Chapter 28 The conversation between the two Indians seated around the blank-screened television screeched to a halt when the Primoi noticed Waia trudging towards them from across the room. Waia vaulted over the back of one of the couches and took a seat next to an Indian, plastic cup in one hand. She took a slow sip of whatever was in the cup and slung one arm over the back of the couch. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve seen quite a few instances of what that ¡®alcohol¡¯ stuff does to humans. Gotta say, I¡¯m jealous.¡± The Indian to her right hunched his shoulders and tried to look away. ¡°Greek or Aztec?¡± He squinted and glanced at her eyes. ¡°Or¡­ Human?¡± ¡°Hawaiian. Visiting.¡± A grin forced itself out of Waia. ¡°Oh, man, you guys have no idea what¡¯s going on around these parts, huh? Yeah, I¡¯ve got this whole thing between me and the Aztecs. Of course, we¡¯re actually a little shaky, because a certain group of people can¡¯t get their priorities in check.¡± The Indian next to Waia looked pleadingly at his relative before looking back at Waia. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ nice. I didn¡¯t know¨C¡± ¡°Frankly,¡± continued Waia, ¡°it¡¯s a miracle that a bunch of losers like you guys survived this far past the end of the world. Like, you know what¡¯s been coming out of the woodwork every twenty minutes ever since Deus decided he couldn¡¯t be bothered with us? In February, I had to literally go to hell in order to stop the legions of the afterlife from conquering the earth. And I¡¯m supposed to be one of the lucky ones! How have you gotten this far? That¡¯s the real enigma here.¡± ¡°Actually,¡± said the Indian opposite Waia, ¡°they just got me to do everything for them.¡± Waia grimaced. ¡°That right? And who are you supposed to be, then?¡± The Indian winked. When his eye opened again, it had changed from yellow to dark green. ¡°We¡¯ve met.¡± The eyes of the Indian next to Waia went wide. ¡°No. No, y¨Cyou can¡¯t be here, we left you at home! How did you get here?! Where¡¯s the real Veshpur?¡± Rachna shrugged and grinned. ¡°I have my ways, just like always. And French Mustard is soaking in his guilt twenty-two point nine three metres north-northwest from here.¡± The Indian sighed with relief when he saw the Primus that Rachna had been impersonating standing casually by the band. He looked contritely at Waia. ¡°We¡¯re so sorry, he¡¯s not supposed to be here. He¡¯s normall¨C¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, it¡¯s just Rachna, we¡¯ve met.¡± After a moment of quiet, Waia blinked in surprise. ¡°¡­I know your name. How do I know your name?¡± Rachna¡¯s face lit up and he shifted into a blue-eyed replica of Waia. ¡°They¡¯d do that? For me?¡± He wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°You really don¡¯t need to do that, b¨Cbut I appreciate gestures like that, I really do.¡± Waia winced at the sound of her own voice coming from someone sitting across from her. She nudged the Indian next to her. ¡°Who¡¯s he talking to?¡± The Indian shrugged dejectedly. ¡°He does this a lot. Talking to people who aren¡¯t there. More so than usual for the past few years.¡± ¡°Pfft. ¡®Aren¡¯t here¡¯.¡± Rachna grew two tiny arms out of his neck and made airquotes with them before promptly retracting them. ¡°Not present, sure, but you folks need to learn to cut the odd stay-at-home ventriloquist a bit of slack. The quietest voices hear the most. Time draws to a close for the coward¡¯s legion, and the final crossroads must be¡­¡± He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. ¡°We¡¯re in¡­ Mexico?¡± He opened his eyes and looked at the Indian across from him expectantly. The Indian shielded his eyes. ¡°Just¡­ Can you at least talk about things that we understand? Use names that we know about, at the bare minimum.¡± ¡°Oh, sure, just know everything that you know about, like it¡¯s that easy.¡± Rachna snorted and waved off the other Indian. ¡°Names, words, they¡¯re all made up already. I can barely look at a ¡®stranger¡¯ without hemorrhaging, and you expect me to keep track of what everyone around me knows everyone by? I¡¯m just one man!¡± ¡°Okay, that¡¯s¡­¡± The Indian stood up and grabbed Rachna by the arm. ¡°We¡¯re bringing you to Kuravaan, and you¡¯re going home and staying there while we wrap up business here, got it?¡± ¡°Nah.¡± Rachna melted into a puddle of tar, slid across the floor and reformed next to Waia, sitting in the exact same spot and position that the other Indian had been. His features morphed into a replica of the other Indian. ¡°Why would I spend my six hundred and ninety-seven thousandth, nine hundred and ninety-second day in that hole on today of all days? I¡¯d be missing the graveyard inauguration!¡± He tapped Waia on the shoulder. ¡°Sorry about the whole Cassandra thing, by the way. Warnings would be way easier to dispense if I had a frame of reference for the concept of ¡®common knowledge¡¯. ¡°It¡¯s cool,¡± said Waia, taking a sip of her drink. ¡°I¡¯ve put up with a lot of worse people than you, actually. I move in some weird circles.¡± She extended a fist, which Rachna met with his own. Rachna turned back to the other Indian, grinning smugly. ¡°See? It is, in fact, possible to be nice to me.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this,¡± muttered the Indian, before storming off. Rachna smirked at his departing relative. ¡°A shame, isn¡¯t it? I can see enough of the past and present that the future is a foregone conclusion, but I still can¡¯t manage to feel comfortable with my lot in life. Well, if there¡¯s one thing that our mutual friend can tell us, it¡¯s that serenity doesn¡¯t come cheap.¡± Waia shrugged and stared at her drink for a moment. ¡°You say you aren¡¯t good with using the right names, right?¡± This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Oh, my names are right. It¡¯s just that they¡¯re almost always too right for you people.¡± ¡°M-hm¡­ And in your opinion, do you think that you¡¯re right about everything you¡¯ve got going on, or are you probably just¡­?¡± She flicked her head and mimicked the sound of an explosion. ¡°Why can¡¯t I be both?¡± Rachna pulled a cup out of seemingly thin air and spat in it, which quickly led to it being filled with its own unidentifiable black drink. ¡°It¡¯s the end of the world, husk, there aren¡¯t any rules. Course, when nobody has the comprehension to hear the words of those with sight, whether my words are portents or nonsense makes little difference. I can assure you, though: I don¡¯t make things up.¡± ¡°Good enough for me,¡± said Waia. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m doing much better on the whole ¡®being right¡¯ front.¡± A snort forced itself from Rachna. ¡°Sorry, sorry, it¡¯s just¡­ I won¡¯t call you wrong, because that isn¡¯t true. But trust me, if you could understand a single word of my warnings, you wouldn¡¯t be half as confident as you are now. But, then again, if you weren¡¯t this confident, you¡¯d still be wiping tables under the flag of the splintered paddle, so who am I to comment?¡± Waia grimaced and looked back at her drink, taking a shaky sip. ¡°Oh, hey, I said words that you understood!¡± Rachna took a celebratory sip of his own drink. ¡°Lemme tell you, after two millennia, doing that feels good. By the way, Bluebird, you can come over if you feel like it. I don¡¯t usually bite.¡± From behind the two of them, Horan cleared his throat and sheepishly walked into view. ¡°I, um, I didn¡¯t know you could¡­¡± ¡°I can,¡± said Rachna flatly. ¡°I always can.¡± ¡°¡­Okay.¡± Horan sat down across from Rachna and Waia. ¡°I c¨Ccame over here because I heard from one of our guests that you had¡­ gotten here¡­ somehow. Hi, Waia.¡± ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°I have a contact or twenty,¡± said Rachna. ¡°If the next twenty-five to thirty-five minutes go the way everything¡¯s been going for the last six months, I¡¯ll probably help your gang do a meet-cute.¡± ¡°You know him?¡± asked Waia, eyebrow raised. ¡°I¡­¡± Horan deflated. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± said Rachna, shifting into a black-eyed Horan, ¡°He just doesn¡¯t like to think that I¡¯m the same guy that he used to be pals with.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± Horan buried his head in his hands. ¡°Whatever¡­ You know, um, speaking of that¡­ old-you¡­ You remember the Seraphium?¡± Rachna¡¯s face fell. ¡°Please don¡¯t. I¡¯ve lost the words to explain to you why, but please don¡¯t.¡± Horan ignored Rachna and looked at Waia. ¡°In my head, I¡¯ve kind of ruled out that that map was being fully honest, but¡­ I think they might be trying to tell us something. The Servants, I mean. Omet told me about what happened on your way back. I think they might be trying to communicate, o¨Cor they want something from us.¡± Waia looked around. ¡°¡­Hey, where is Omet, anyway?¡± Rachna buried his head in his lap. ¡°The Unready was abandoned due to the fear of reason, as was set in motion before the age of monarchy.¡± He said more, but his next words were mumbled too quietly to be made out. ¡°They said they wanted to check up on their siblings and see how they¡¯re doing,¡± said Horan, ¡°and once they were gone, I was alone for a while, then I ended up here. But what do you think of my idea?¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Waia thought for a few moments. ¡°¡­So they¡¯re waiting where the map says they are, and they¡¯re trying to get something out of us? That¡­ With the car, and¡­ I know someone wants us alive, and they know how to do it. But Torch handed that map over to the Huntmaster guy in person, and those are two people that I know for sure are out to get me.¡± Horan furrowed his brow. ¡°Then¡­ What would someone like this Torch person need with the Ser¨C¡± His face lit up with realization. ¡°They¡¯re trying to undo the Nabbing.¡± ¡°That name blows so much,¡± said Rachna, ¡°you¡¯d think Deus came up with it.¡± Waia shook her head. ¡°That¡­ That can¡¯t be it. There¡¯s no way. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re doing here, but it can¡¯t be that. They¡¯re trying to hurt us, something as out-of-the-way as that can¡¯t even be on the table.¡± ¡°But maybe it is for us,¡± said Horan. ¡°Think about it, maybe the stranger who gave you the car knows that the Seraphium can be used to bring Deus back from wherever he went, and he can fix this all for us! They just need someone like us to get through some Servant defenders or something, and we can use it to undo all of this! Maybe it¡¯s actually¡­ Are you listening?¡± Waia was staring intently at something in Horan¡¯s direction, that was quite certainly not him. ¡°¡­Defenders¡­ In one place, waiting for us¡­ Like Torch?¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t see why not,¡± mumbled Horan. ¡°I mean, something like that, I guess. If we actually tried, they¡­ might be there.¡± ¡°So what, are you saying we go there now? Something change your mind about this being an obvious trap?¡± ¡°I dunno, I was just thinking.¡± Horan looked around at the partygoers. ¡°The Seraphium, of all things, being this close to the Aztecs¡¯ house of all places, i¨Cit¡¯s ridiculous. But when you add together all the weird things that have been going on, there¡¯s definitely more under the hood than we already know about. There¡¯s something big here, and¡­ Well, if not Deus¡¯ biggest secret, then what else, you know? Stranger things have happened to us, this year alone.¡± ¡°It probably is a trap,¡± said Waia, mouth covered by her hand. ¡°One that people have worked really hard to set up. One that would be overseen by the one at the top.¡± ¡°¡­Doesn¡¯t really seem like we¡¯ve got the same idea of what to expect there,¡± muttered Horan. ¡°So¡­ In terms of what matters to me, what do you think about this?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a gamble, and one that takes a lot of optimism to even seem possible.¡± ¡°That, we agree on.¡± Waia nodded. ¡°And I don¡¯t think anyone else here is stupid or desperate enough to think it¡¯s a good idea. That just leaves us.¡± Horan clenched his jaw and nodded back. ¡°We¡­ We do it if it¡¯s safer than risking everyone here, how¡¯s that sound? I mean, only an idiot would go through with this kind of thing, like you said.¡± Waia stood up and extended her hand towards Horan. ¡°Good thing this place has idiots aplenty.¡± Grim-faced, Horan shook her hand. ¡°Just¡­ Only if our current plan fails, I don¡¯t want to put these people in danger.¡± ¡°Finally, someone with a little backbone.¡± Waia raised her cup. ¡°To idiots with backbone?¡± Horan mimed holding a cup and held his hand against Waia¡¯s. ¡°To idiots with backbone.¡± He glanced over Waia¡¯s shoulder, at the couch she had been sitting on. ¡°¡­Where¡¯s Rachna?¡± Waia looked back at the empty couch. ¡°Dunno. Guess we can¡¯t all be idiots. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s gonna tell anyone. Or, uh, tell anyone successfully.¡± Horan took a deep breath. ¡°Okay¡­ I¡¯m gonna go see if Omet¡¯s done checking up on everyone. You, uh, have fun, and let¡¯s just hope for the best.¡± Waia grunted noncommittally. As Horan left once again, she sat back down and swirled the remains of her drink. As long as everyone in the building with her kept up their stupid charade, she didn¡¯t have much to do. But their act would inevitably fall through, and then things would be settled her way. They would see. They were in her world now, whether they liked it or not. Chapter 29 While traversing the balcony, Omet watched their siblings head downstairs and join the Indians and the half-dozen or so remaining Greeks. After a moment¡¯s pause, they continued their circuit along the balcony and finished at Quet¡¯s door. They opened the door partway and knocked. ¡°It¡¯s Omet.¡± ¡°Come in.¡± Omet opened the door to see Quet standing in front of Mark, who was hunched over a scrawled-over sheet of paper with his head in his hands. ¡°Mark realized he doesn¡¯t read books,¡± explained Quet, ¡°so he ended up coming back to the RPGs. He¡¯s going to use his imagination, whether he likes it or not.¡± Omet looked at Mark¡¯s paper. ¡°You started him with the mage one, didn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°What¡¯s a Quintessence?¡± mumbled Mark numbly. Quet pulled on a handle on her wall, sliding out a person-sized computer server. ¡°I¡¯ll look it up on my copy of the wiki. You know, times like this vindicate my decision to download so much stuff before the internet collapsed. If I wasn¡¯t such a procrastinatory info-hoarder, this knowledge could have been lost to history. Crazy.¡± Omet sighed. ¡°I keep telling you, the vampire one is the best way to introduce people to the system and setting, the mage one dumps too many systems on you at once to be new-player-friendly.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care how many movies you show me, vampires are for people with an overabundance of black makeup. Mang will be shown the superior ways of the wizard, and he will come to thank me for my wisdom.¡± Mark pulled his knees close to his chest. ¡°I thought you stopped calling me that¡­¡± Omet looked around the room. ¡°¡­I thought Waia was with you?¡± Quet pushed the server back into the wall. ¡°She went downstairs about ten minutes ago; you didn¡¯t see her?¡± Omet shook their head. ¡°I¡¯ve been checking up on the rest of the family since before then.¡± ¡°For the whole¡­?¡± Quet nodded towards the scattered papers bundled up on the corner of the desk. ¡°Partly.¡± After realizing how long they had been standing in the doorway for, Omet shut the door and stepped into the middle of the room. ¡°Just kind of¡­ wanted to hear your thoughts on all this. I mean, you haven¡¯t exactly gotten a firsthand look at our guests downstairs, but I¡¯m kind of talking about the situation at large.¡± ¡°Oh, y¡¯know, pretty average reactions across the board. Discomfort on a gut level about bringing a Domain like the Indians into our own home and asking them for help, which is kind of being overridden by the aftershocks of being shot out of the sky and bailed out by a mysterious stranger with a magic ghost-car. Same as you, I assume.¡± ¡°More or less.¡± Omet glanced at Quet¡¯s beanbag chair, then at Quet. When they received a nod of permission, they sat down. ¡°But if I¡¯m being honest, the Indians aren¡¯t¡­ the absolute worst?¡± ¡°Please allow me to fetch a fire extinguisher for those pants of yours.¡± Omet held their hands out. ¡°Yes, okay, they¡¯re pretty bad. But Horan¡¯s holding out that they¡¯ll end up being nicer than we¡¯ve been saying they are, and I will admit, Kuravaan ¨C that¡¯s the guy in charge ¨C isn¡¯t really being very dismissive or anything to us. Admittedly, I¡¯m not really sure what he is, but¡­ I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that long of a shot.¡± From across the room, Mark shrugged. ¡°I dunno, Quet, I might start to buy this. Horan has never really been the best judge of character, but from what he¡¯s shown me of better-off Domains like the Norse and Greeks (at the time), I don¡¯t think these people are gonna be unreasonable. People never really are, anyway, they¡¯re usually just wrong about whatever. And I don¡¯t see how the Indians can be wrong about the army-cult trying to kill us all.¡± Quet shrugged and folded her arms. You know what? Sure. I¡¯ll be willing to buy that, generally insufferable as these people probably are¨C¡± ¡°I won¡¯t fight you on that front,¡± said Omet. ¡°¨CThey probably aren¡¯t stupid. It¡¯s usually the New World Domains who used to get stereotyped as the dumb ones, right? I mean, that¡¯s us, and we¡¯ve got a pretty decent idea for how things are going down, and also stereotypes are stupid and bad.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a train of reasoning,¡± said Mark, pushing the paper in front of him to the side. ¡°But I kind of get your point. They don¡¯t have any halfway rational reason to leave us to the wolves, so I¡¯m kind of feeling like all this worrying about what they¡¯re gonna do is just pessimism. And I should know, Horan has called me the CEO of pessimism more than once.¡± Quet glanced at her papers. ¡°¡­Does this mean that Operation Netherworld is a no-go?¡± ¡°I would like to repeat,¡± said Omet, ¡°it¡¯s a contingency. A worst-case scenario.¡± ¡°Awful lot of effort for a backup plan.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Yeah. But sometimes, having a backup plan at all is worth this kind of effort. Not like there are any easier options that I can think of.¡± Mark turned around in the swivel chair. ¡°If I¡¯m allowed to ask, what is this operation¡­ never-world, or whatever?¡± Quet and Omet both chuckled condescendingly. ¡°Like I¡¯ve said,¡± explained Omet, ¡°It¡¯s either not worth the risk of the secret getting out, or it won¡¯t have ever mattered. You might see soon, it might not be worth worrying about. We will leave it at that.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Mark shrugged. ¡°If you say so. I know it was planned by Omet, so it¡¯s not like I¡¯m gonna be able to help with anything. Your priorities are a bit too¡­ domestic for me.¡± ¡°Did you j¨C?¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry, wrong word. You¡¯re too chill for me. That¡¯s better.¡± Omet nodded. ¡°Okay, yeah, I¡¯ll give you that one. I don¡¯t like judging myself, but I can say with confidence that I don¡¯t exactly present as a menace to society or anything like that.¡± ¡°Not really something to be ashamed of,¡± added Mark. ¡°I feel like after being exposed to six hours of unfiltered Waia, I need an equivalent amount of chillness to balance things out.¡± ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± Omet winced and stood up. ¡°I¡¯d love to take you up on your hangout offer, but, um, Waia is apparently downstairs, so I should probably get back to my party-management job. I¡¯m officially off my break.¡± They leaned towards Quet and held up a hand. ¡°You¡¯re doing great, by the way. See you soon.¡± Quet gave them a high five. ¡°And you¡¯re doing better. See you, uh, sooner. Bye.¡± Omet scurried out of Quet¡¯s room and shut the door behind them. ¡°Okay¡­¡± They leaned out over the balcony railing and scanned the foyer to try to find Waia. It proved to not be an easy task, but they eventually noticed her waterfall of unkempt black hair spilling over the back of one of the couches. After scurrying down the staircase and passing across the foyer, giving a curt greeting to anyone who made eye contact, Omet rolled over the back of the couch across from Waia and landed on the empty cushions. Only then did they realize that Waia was the only person present by the couches. And also that she was asleep, slumped partially in her seat with her head hanging down. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Omet sat up, stared at her for a moment, and cleared their throat. Waia snapped awake, looked around, focused on Omet, and relaxed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re here now.¡± ¡°Indeed I am.¡± ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t know when I dozed off. Haven¡¯t been getting much sleep lately.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t we give you a spare room last night?¡± asked Omet. ¡°Yeah, that doesn¡¯t mean I went out like a¡­ a rock the minute I walked in.¡± Waia stretched her legs out. ¡°I spent two months drifting in the Pacific. For the next two or three weeks, my brain is gonna be too busy trying to deal with the fact that it isn¡¯t sloshing around on top of a bunch of waves to let me do the whole REM-whatever sleep thing. Best I can do is a light nap, and that messes you up long-term. That¡¯s sea legs, baby.¡± ¡°Neat.¡± Omet folded their legs and scooted further back into the couch. ¡°So, how did the ground floor treat you pre-nap?¡± Waia shrugged. ¡°Pestered some Indians. One of them was secretly that shapeshifter guy from earlier. His name¡¯s Rachna, by the way, I don¡¯t know how I know that. Add that to the weird-stuff list.¡± Omet nodded. ¡°Yellow-me met him a few hours before purple-me did. He¡¯s okay.¡± ¡°Yeah, just a little hard to get used to.¡± ¡°Yup.¡± The two Primoi sat in silence for a few moments, eyes drifting across their respective fields of view in an attempt to think of something to talk about. Eventually, Omet gave up on the promise of casual talk. ¡°So, um¡­ We know what happened on your and Mark¡¯s trip out, but I figure you¡¯re much more of a person of opinions, so, uh¡­ What¡¯re your thoughts on¡­¡± They waved in the direction of the door. Waia shrugged. ¡°In terms of what the Servants are gonna be like to deal with? I think we overestimated them. They¡¯re definitely a rung or three below the giant glowing lightning ball from back in February.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you say that the Servants have more of whatever Orsinus turned into?¡± ¡°Yeah, but believe it or not, lightning powers aren¡¯t a very common feature among humanity. With that one exception, most are basically just animals, if a little unpredictable. I¡¯m pretty sure Mark killed one. Alone.¡± Omet decided to remember that unexplained tidbit for later. ¡°Yeah, but¡­ There are, like a lot of these guys, aren¡¯t there? They won¡¯t stay manageable forever. I¡¯m not really sure if we should even really be presenting all this to the Indians as if we should fight them.¡± ¡°Remember, Omet, they¡¯re a lot of humans. And Deus isn¡¯t around to rein us in anymore. The more they send at us, the more we¡¯re all just gonna snowball. It¡¯s worked for me, at least. I did say earlier that a tank shot me in the face. Like, I¡¯m fine, it¡¯s crazy.¡± Omet added that to the list as well. ¡°I feel like we¡¯re missing something if that¡¯s the case. They¡¯ve got some kind of trick up their sleeve if they¡¯ve gotten this far, they have to.¡± Waia folded her arms and sneered. ¡°Yeah, their ¡®trick¡¯ is called ¡®being lucky¡¯. They¡¯ve only gotten this far because every Primus in the world, barring the ones in this building, are either too spoiled and short-sighted to see anything coming, or too mortal to be noticed. I was able to get a few dozen eyes on me before they started shooting, and things turned out fine. It¡¯s that simple.¡± Omet pulled their cardigan tight around themself. ¡°¡­Are you sure that trick is gonna work every time for the rest of us? I mean, what if they start checking people, or won¡¯t let anyone new in, or try and act preemptively, or¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sticking with what I said,¡± replied Waia. ¡°They¡¯ve run out of free chances, and it turns out that that ¡®scouting trip¡¯ with Mark actually turned out to be pretty useful, seeing how we know how to play their game. They¡¯ve run out of cheap tricks to catch us off-guard, that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°I¡­ If you say so? I guess? A stance like that will almost definitely make things go over better with the Indians, if they think that we¡¯ve got an in to¡­ survival, fresh attention and power, however they want to spin it. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be glad to have an optimistic view of things for once.¡± Waia nodded. ¡°They¡¯ll finally get the chance to see what happens when they listen to people who actually have half a brain. But, y¡¯know, probably not gonna happen if I say it myself. They don¡¯t like me. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just because their parents told them to avoid people with tattoos.¡± Omet chuckled. ¡°Okay, sure, I¡¯ll try and phrase it to their liking. By which I mean I¡¯ll ask Horan how to do that and he¡¯ll end up doing most of it himself. Still, uh, it¡¯s nice to hear something like this from an, uh¡­ authority on the matter? Do you think that¡¯s the right thing for me to call you here?¡± Waia gave a shrug and a half-nod. ¡°Sure, it¡¯s not like I¡¯m new to the business of messing with humans to come out on top. Also, insert joke here about how I¡¯m the authority now.¡± Omet stood up. ¡°Okay, um, the band¡¯s probably getting tired by now, I¡¯m gonna start preparing to swoop in and get things going. ¡°You wanna go do anything? I just, uh, I don¡¯t see you as the type to have a ton of fun while sitting on a couch and trying not to drift off.¡± ¡°You make a good argument.¡± Waia stood up in turn and dusted her inexplicably crumb-covered lap off. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go see how Rachna¡¯s doing, he¡¯s basically the only new person who¡¯s halfway cool.¡± ¡°Knock yourself out.¡± Omet turned and went off to look for Horan. They had not been lying when they said they would be asking him for help in formulating a final pitch for the Indians. ¡°Moment of truth¡­¡± Chapter 30 Horan was ten feet from the door to Quet¡¯s room when Mark and Quet both exited. Horan stopped and gave a confused wave. ¡°Oh, uh, hey guys. What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°Omet came back and told us that they¡¯re gonna try and wrap things up,¡± said Quet. ¡°We figured we¡¯d get some fresh air before we¡¯re most likely summoned downstairs. By ¡®we¡¯ I mean ¡®me¡¯, but I don¡¯t trust Mark alone in my bedroom.¡± ¡°I would spill something,¡± agreed Mark. ¡°What¡¯s up with you?¡± ¡°¡­Same.¡± Horan gestured down the hall behind him, towards the small staircase on the far side of the building. ¡°Shall we?¡± The three travelled along the balcony towards the stairs. As they passed by a view of the party and the air was filled with the sounds of music and conversation, Quet hunched her shoulders and clenched her fists. Mark stepped between Quet and the foyer. ¡°You alright?¡± Quet nodded hastily. ¡°Just gotta move past, sorry.¡± ¡°Yeah, no problem.¡± Horan shot a glance at Mark. ¡°By the way, uh, Mark, remember that anime guy we killed, like, two days after we met?¡± Mark stared at Horan, visibly confused. ¡°¡­No?¡± ¡°Good, we¡¯re taking that to our graves.¡± Horan looked back ahead. The three travelled up the stairs before arriving at the outside balcony, benches arranged outwards towards what had once been a view of a forest and the night sky. Two or three Aztecs, and even an Indian, were scattered around the wide-open space, minding their own business. Horan looked out at the tangled sea of dead trees. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t come up to this place often.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think about this place often,¡± mumbled Quet, taking a seat on one of the benches. She gave a casual wave to one of the nearby Aztecs. ¡°Not much of a point to, these days. View¡¯s a bit, uh¡­¡± She tilted her hand from side to side. Horan sat beside her. ¡°Well, not much to be done about that these days, unless someone here starts to feel like getting into horticultural magic. And I, personally, would rather die, so it seems unlikely.¡± Mark sat on the other side of Horan. ¡°Yup. So, what did you want to talk about?¡± Horan shifted in his seat. ¡°¡­Uh, who says I want to talk about anything? Maybe I just wanted to get you both out of¨C¡± ¡°You do.¡± Horan sighed. ¡°I do. But don¡¯t act like it¡¯s some big, uncomfortable discussion, I just wanted to catch you up on a few things before the night¡­¡± He looked up at the impenetrable clouds above. ¡°¡­Before the afternoon-to-night reaches a head.¡± Quet shrugged and slumped in her seat. ¡°Works for me. I have spoken to a total of four different people since you and Half-Omet came back.¡± ¡°Yeah, so speaking of Omet, they¡¯ve assembled a bit of a sales pitch for the situation, to make it look good to the Indians. And, I mean, they were pretty confident about it making things work out, and¡­ I dunno, I might agree with them a little?¡± Mark raised his eyebrows and buried his hands in his hoodie pocket. ¡°That right? You and Omet in this specific case?¡± ¡°I¡­ Yeah, it¡¯s a pretty decent middle road,¡± said Horan, ¡°and I think it paints all that¨C¡± He waved at the darkness beyond the balcony¨C ¡°in a pretty decent light. Because Omet¡¯s been catching me up on what happened out there, and it sounded pretty rough, but¡­ Apparently, Waia thinks that if we play our cards right, we can kind of ride the wave of human attention like she¡¯s been doing and just kind of¡­ match whatever they throw at us? Omet said that she said it wasn¡¯t that hard to¨C¡± Mark swatted Horan on the shoulder. ¡°Waia of all people was almost gassed to death after catching the entire army with their pants down, and you think we¡¯ll have the same luck with everyone else here?! You think Quet is gonna live up to the same standards of not dying as Waia?!¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I would die very quickly,¡± agreed Quet. ¡°I¡­ Just¡­¡± Horan held his hands out to put some space between himself and Mark. ¡°We don¡¯t need to put this under any rigorous deductive scrutiny, nor should we. The two-and-a-half-hour mark is the minimum amount of time that an invited Domain is obligated to attend any one social event, and I feel like the Indians are gonna run out of patience very quickly after that point.¡± Mark buried his head in his hand. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it. You¡¯re an idiot. I¨C¡± He placed a hand on his thigh. ¡°She got stabbed. Did you notice that? Did you notice the big knife-wound-shaped hole in her pants that appeared by the time she came back? Because she did, in fact, get stabbed. Do you like being stabbed? I don¡¯t!¡± ¡°Whether or not it¡¯s a proven fact isn¡¯t important,¡± continued Horan, now visibly uncomfortable, ¡°it¡¯s just a way to make the Indians feel safe enough to say something conclusive in our favor. Omet and I can¡¯t lie, and they know that, so anything that the two of us say is gonna sound credible, inherently. If we start to legitimately believe that our current pitch is wrong, we won¡¯t be able to present it to them. We can examine it critically in more detail later, but we don¡¯t have that luxury right now, okay?¡± Mark glanced halfway at Horan. ¡°You don¡¯t even think it¡¯s true?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s¡­ shaky. I can be conclusive later, like I said. It¡¯s not whether I¡¯m right that we should be confident in, remember, just that I¨C that we, me and Omet, can use it convincingly. And I am confident that this is our buzzer-beating trick, just for the record.¡± Quet pulled out a glyph, squeezed it, and stared at it for a moment. ¡°We only hit the two-thirty hour mark in fifty-six minutes.¡± ¡°¡­Metaphorically buzzer-beating.¡± ¡°That¡­ That¡¯s not what ¡®metaphorically¡¯ means, in any context.¡± Horan pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Please, just¡­ work with me here. I knew you two would be the only ones who might have any objections if Omet started to bring this up with the Indians with no warning, so¡­ I¡¯m asking you now to just play along. Omet managed, and we¡¯re this close to finally sealing the deal by now.¡± He stood up and took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯m meeting up with Omet to do this in five or six minutes. You two have that long to make peace with that being how we¡¯re going to do things.¡± While Horan walked off towards the stairs leading back down, Mark slumped in his seat to mimic Quet¡¯s posture. ¡°¡­So¡­ You seem, uh¡­ pretty neutral about this. Are you? Neutral?¡± Quet shrugged and threaded her hands together. ¡°Not like I have any idea on how this works. I mean, Horan seems to be trying to circumvent the dubiousness of the situation with the whole ¡®still kind of true if I don¡¯t think about it too hard¡¯ thing, but not pondering the ethics of the situation doesn¡¯t remove any ethical factors from it, you know?¡± ¡°¡­So, what is your stance on it?¡± ¡°Neutral. Profoundly so. I am so wrapped up in square one of unraveling all this, it¡¯s like being rolled up in a weighted blanket and thrown into a lake. A lake of¡­ confusion. And comfort. I wanna do that now, actually.¡± Mark covered his eyes with one hand. ¡°For once, I actually have an idea of what you¡¯re talking about¡­ You know what? I¡¯ll give this one to Horan, as long as we actually figure out something to do about all this, some kind of plan that doesn¡¯t involve running at the Servants and hoping we all become bulletproof before we enter shotgun range. Which is further away than you think, by the way, they have some reach on them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± ¡°My point is,¡± said Mark, ¡°we had better hope that the Indians are willing to stick around after we reveal that we¡¯re actually doing something completely different and there¡¯s a very real chance that everything we said about human-snowballing will lead to an unceremonious death.¡± ¡°¡­Yeah, they won¡¯t like that.¡± ¡°No they will not, my point exactly.¡± Mark stood up and strolled towards the balcony¡¯s railing. ¡°I¡¯m really not trying to stop us from playing dirty to come out on top, that¡¯s the last thing I¡¯m worried about. What¡¯s worrying me is that Horan can say that the Indians are sticklers for the, quote, rules, unquote, but a plan like this is really pushing that to the brink in the long-term.¡± Quet shrugged and looked at the ground. ¡°It¡¯s not like we can really afford to all think about the long-term right now. If our survival methods involve us laying tracks right in front of a figurative bullet train ¨C That¡¯s the word Horan wanted, by the way ¨C so be it. But we¡¯re not in a position to do otherwise, not right now.¡± Mark looked over the railing and down at the four tiers of the ziggurat that led to the ground. ¡°¡­Can¡¯t argue with you there.¡± ¡°You can never argue with me. I am always right about everything.¡± Mark rolled his eyes. ¡°Well, it always pays to have someone to worry about anything there is to worry about. Might as well be me who does that.¡± ¡°All the more power to you.¡± With a soft groan, Quet got up from the couch. ¡°Okay, we can¡¯t keep moaning about our various anxieties, we should probably head back down and support Omet.¡± Mark chuckled and turned back to face Quet. ¡°C¡¯mon, do we have to?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t make me be the socially responsible one, Mang, I¡¯m gonna flub it. Don¡¯t push me.¡± ¡°Okay, yeah, you¡¯re right, we should go.¡± Mark headed towards the stairs. ¡°I keep telling you,¡± moaned Quet, ¡°I¡¯m always right! Stop acting surprised!¡± She glanced back at the Aztecs still on the roof. ¡°You guys too, by the way. Omet needs all our powers combined, like it or not.¡± Chapter 31 Omet leaned against the wall and watched Horan drift through the air towards them. Once he had settled into a cross-legged position in the air in front of them, they waved. ¡°Hey, uh, you ready?¡± ¡°As I¡¯ll ever be.¡± Horan took a deep breath and lowered his feet to the ground. ¡°You still need to be the one who does the bulk of the talking, by the way. You got a script?¡± ¡°¡­I was supposed to have a script?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°Not, like, a written-out plan for the speech you decided on doing twenty minutes ago, but¡­ an outline. An order of operations.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡­ I have a general idea of how things go. Back me up if I need you to.¡± ¡°Anytime,¡± said Horan, patting Omet on the back. Halfway towards the stage, Omet stopped in their tracks. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m starting to freak out a little, wha¨Cwhat¡¯s the, like, acceptable parameters for how much I¡¯m allowed to freak out up there?¡± ¡°Freak out as much as you want,¡± said Horan, ¡°The trick is to ignore it as much as possible and replace it with whatever self-confidence you can muster. And before you ask me how to get self-confidence, the answer is that you either already have it, or you scare yourself into pretending that the first option is true.¡± ¡°That set of options is¡­ terrifying.¡± ¡°Correct. That¡¯s how I can tell that you¡¯re getting it. If you aren¡¯t scared, it means you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing. And evidently, you know plenty. That¡¯s a good sign. ¡° ¡°Don¡¯t most people encourage each other to believe in themselves?¡± Horan snorted. ¡°Nobody believes in themselves, they just learn to convince themselves that they have no chance of failure. Success happens when they do that and end up being right. Or at least right enough. Now, I would recommend that you stop asking me questions, because I¡¯m not going to stop giving disappointing and/or worrying answers.¡± Omet clenched their jaw and nodded. ¡°Just try to keep things on cognitive autopilot for the most part,¡± said Horan. ¡°Breezy Slide. I¡¯ll come up to support you at the halfway-ish mark, or if you need help before that. You got this, and don¡¯t you dare question that statement.¡± He gave Omet one last pat on the back, then slunk away while keeping his eye on them. With a parting thumbs-up, he turned and left. Omet took a deep breath and continued on their way to the stage. ¡°Self-confidence¡­¡± That gave them an idea. They split in two as they walked, their two copies walking side-by-side. Yellow Omet nudged their counterpart. ¡°Hey. You¡¯re too confident and likeable and¡­ uh¡­ Yeah, I got nothing, I¡¯m done. Psyching myself up is a lot harder when I can only say true things.¡± Yellow Omet rolled their eyes. ¡°Point is, you¡¯ve got a lot riding on this. Plenty of people counting on you. You¡¯re not allowed to mess this up.¡± ¡°Much better. Nothing motivates excellence quite like fear of failure.¡± Purple Omet gave their copy a fist bump, and the two merged back into one. ¡°That got weird fast.¡± Omet approached the stage and waved at them once they had wrapped up their current song. ¡°Hey, real quick, can I borrow the stage? I wanna do a quick address, won¡¯t be five minutes.¡± ¡°Sure, c¡¯mon up.¡± The trumpet player pulled Omet up on stage. ¡°I assume this isn¡¯t something that takes backup?¡± ¡°N¨C Uh, no. You¡¯re all good, you can head down and watch.¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± The drummer pulled his microphone from its stand and handed it to Omet. ¡°You¡¯ll need it. Makes you feel important.¡± ¡°¡­And also easier to hear?¡± ¡°That too.¡± The drummer hopped off the stage with a quick salute, followed by the rest of the band. The rest of the Primoi in the foyer, noticing Omet standing alone on stage, began to congregate around them, watching expectantly. Omet looked past them and made eye contact with Horan, who stood at the back of the growing crowd next to Mark and Quet. Horan smiled and waved at them, Quet nodded and slammed a fist into her palm, and Mark gave a curt thumbs-up. ¡°Okay¡­¡± Omet took a deep breath, holding the microphone away from their mouth so that the sound wouldn¡¯t be picked up. After a pause just long enough to become awkward, they brought it close to their mouth again. ¡°So¨C¡± ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± Kuravaan strode onto stage from the stairs to the side and stood imposingly in front of Omet, one arm behind his back. ¡°We have a few words we would like to exchange to the Primoi gathered here, if that¡¯s alright with you.¡± Omet¡¯s gaze flitted between Kuravaan and the microphone gripped in their hands. ¡°Y¨C Actually, I¨CI was hoping that¨C You can, but can I just fin¨C¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Kuravaan pulled the microphone from Omet and turned to face the crowd. ¡°This is really for you Aztecs out there, but we think it would be remiss of us to not at least provide a quick catch-up for those Greeks out there who haven¡¯t noticed.¡± Omet tried to stand next to Kuravaan. ¡°Wh¨Cwhat are you¨C?¡± Kuravaan pushed Omet away from him. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me. See, everyone, this whole¡­ thing has actually been quite the positive experience for our Domain. Not fun, no, the Aztecs wouldn¡¯t know how to properly host guests if we offered lessons on weekends.¡± Several Indians in the crowd responded with a slightly forced-sounding laugh. Kuravaan grinned and continued. ¡°Guests of our caliber, that is. We¡¯re sure your little hovel has served as a stellar vagrant colony in the past, we assure you.¡± After waiting for the second round of laughter to subside, Kuravaan turned his head to look at a stunned-silent Omet, microphone still the optimal distance and angle from his mouth. ¡°Seriously, we know you set this up on a bit of short notice, you really won¡¯t shut up about it, but we can only assume that you spent that limited amount of time making things worse. It¡¯s the only halfway reasonable explanation.¡± ¡°But,¡± he continued, looking back to the crowd, ¡°we wouldn¡¯t exactly put it past any of you. Your entire Domain seems to be putting its best effort into being the most unapproachable, socially inept, repugnant batch of Primoi on this side of the Atlantic. And this is the bad side!¡± Omet looked over at Horan, who seemed to be as transfixed with horror as they were. ¡°We¡¯ve actually been quietly been assembling a list of our grievances with all of you ¨C individually, of course ¨C while you weren¡¯t paying attention to us like a halfway decent host is supposed to. We suppose your incompetence worked in our favor, that time. Well, it works in our favor most of the time. It certainly doesn¡¯t work in yours.¡± ¡°Is this¡­?¡± Omet noticed that a line of Indians had formed by the stairs leading up to the stage. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ That¡¯s a lot¡­¡± ¡°Ooh, oh m¨Cm¨Cmy,¡± mocked Kuravaan, ¡°i¨Cis th¨Cthis thing b¨Cbad?¡± He clapped both hands over his cheeks and let his mouth hang agape. ¡°Learn how to properly turn letters into words, kid, it¡¯s a pretty important skill. But we¡¯ll get to the big-ticket items soon, don¡¯t you go anywhere. Prevesh, you go first.¡± Kuravaan handed the microphone to the first Indian in line, who took center stage. ¡°Evening, everyone. Or, well it¡¯s not really evening, the clocks say that it¡¯s five in the afternoon in this part of the world. Because you can¡¯t even trust the Aztecs to bring us over at a reasonable time of day. It is quite impressive how much they thought of to screw up, it¡¯s actually inspirational, is what it is.¡± He lowered his voice and brought the microphone close to his mouth. ¡°That¡¯s the only compliment I have to give.¡± The Indians watched Prevesh with rapt attention as he continued. ¡°For those of you in the crowd unfamiliar with me (which is most of you, because the Aztecs apparently won¡¯t approach a stranger unless threatened with death), I¡¯m the Indian Domain¡¯s resident musician and public performer. I actually know a fellow performer when I see one. And I do only see one, collectively, because sub-millennial or no, the idea of spending all this time you have to only master one instrument is laughable. I¡¯m my Domain¡¯s only performer for a reason, you know! I don¡¯t need three other people backing me up just to sound acceptable!¡± The Indians erupted back into fake-sounding laughter. One of the band members, who all stood closest to the stage, was elbowed by an Indian standing next to them. ¡°And the thing is,¡± said Prevesh, ¡°you four would almost definitely sound a lot better if you had halfway decent equipment. Like everyone knows, ¡®a player is only as good as his instruments¡¯. And, like¡­¡± He gestured at the unattended instruments behind him. ¡°¡­Look at those! Where¡¯d you even find these, Mexico? Oh wait!¡± This time he laughed with his audience. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± One of the band members stepped forward and placed his hands on the edge of the stage. ¡°If you¡¯re so fancy, where¡¯d you get your stuff if it matters so much, huh?¡± Prevesh grinned patronizingly. ¡°Switzerland. All of my band equipment is commissioned from artisanal manufacturers in Switzerland. Because I don¡¯t want to sound like a street busker when I play.¡± The Aztec slowly retreated from the stage. ¡°It really is just sad that you people thought that having a few of you toot some horns will dazzle us. Kuravaan has a couple extra things to say, but other than that, I¡¯m done.¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Kuravaan took the microphone from Prevesh. ¡°Also, you really did go for a jazz band. Of all things. No classical music from literally any period before then, no¡­ traditional instrumentation, jazz. Do you know where jazz music is appropriate? Speakeasies. And venues that upper-class humans visit to feel like they¡¯re in a speakeasy. We¡¯ll believe that your place has acted as the former at some point, given the state of the building, but that really is a low point for you all to stoop to. Alright, that¡¯s enough of that. Kandava, you next.¡± Another Indian scurried on stage and took the microphone. ¡°¡®Evening¡¯, everyone. I¡¯m actually the one who inspired Kuravaan to make that vagrant colony observation earlier, because I¡¯ve actually noticed a few interesting faces under this roof. Now, the obvious first thing to address is the Greeks¡­¡± At the back of the crowd, Mark nudged Horan and stood on his toes to hiss into his ear. ¡°What are we supposed to be doing right now? They¡¯re just gonna be insulting the Aztecs for the next hour if we don¡¯t do something.¡± ¡°Yeah, I know, we just¡­¡± Horan took a deep breath and put a hand over his chest. ¡°Constructive critique is pretty commonplace when newer Domains like the Aztecs are still finding their feet. They¡¯re not delivering a verdict or anything, they¡¯re just voicing their concerns is all. They just want to know that we can take bad things in stride. It¡¯s all part of the process, everyone knows that.¡± ¡°Voic¨C?!¡± Quet swatted Horan on the arm. ¡°What kind of a critique is this? They¡¯re not telling us anything, they¡¯re just¨C¡± ¡°But it gets worse,¡± declared the Indian on stage. ¡°A few of my Domain peers may have noticed a certain someone taking a nap on the couch a while back. Earlier today, she came up to me and announced herself as Hawaiian!¡± He looked down at the Aztecs on stage. ¡°You people really will just take in whoever, huh? It¡¯s¨C Rachna broke out and followed us here somehow, he¡¯s since been dealt with, don¡¯t worry, but I found him chatting up¨C Where is the Hawaiian, anyway?¡± The Indian scanned the crowd, before his gaze drifted up to meet something on the balcony on the opposite wall. The crowd followed his gaze to see Waia, leaning over the railing and grimacing at the Indian on stage. ¡°Yeah, there you are.¡± The Indian pointed at Waia and brought the microphone closer to his mouth. ¡°Before he was taken away, I saw you hanging out with Rachna like everything is fine. Rachna. In case you weren¡¯t able to notice it yourself, Rachna is insane. Clinically. Cuckoo. Out of his mind. Delusional. Barely functional. Did you even notice? Or is there something there about not recognizing your own kind? Is that what¡¯s going on there? You certainly act the part.¡± Waia spat at the Indian, the glob of saliva sailing an impressive distance over the railing and splattering on the floor. ¡°I thought so.¡± The Indian looked away from Waia and smirked. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder the Aztec place is such a mess, they keep bringing rabble in from the streets and wilderness! It all makes sense! I don¡¯t even need to take my time with pointing all this out, it¡¯s all right there! I¡¯m off!¡± Kuravaan took the microphone back. ¡°There you have it, everyone: The optimistic view is, at least, that the Aztecs are quite the inclusive bunch. We certainly don¡¯t have to worry about looking bad among these people, it¡¯s not like we can top anything that they already have.¡± The Indians in the crowd burst into another riot of laughter, and Kuravaan handed the microphone over to the third Indian in line while the laughter was still dying down. ¡°So,¡± said the latest Indian. ¡°Some of you already know where I¡¯m going to go with this. I managed to find the strangest thing at the buffet today. The statue of a librarian behind me even gave me a handy explanation as to the story behind it.¡± ¡°Can¡­ Can we please just¡­¡± Omet stepped forward and tried to reach for the microphone. ¡°Can I just explain, before¨C¡± ¡°Well!¡± Kuravaan interposed himself in front of Omet, taking the microphone from the reluctant Indian behind him. ¡°It seems that our host has finally run out of patience. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯re plenty happy to skip straight to you.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s¡­¡± Omet took a shaky step away from Kuravaan. ¡°I¡¯m not here to start anything, I just don¡¯t want you to kee¨C¡± ¡°Oh, no, of course you don¡¯t want to start anything,¡± declared Kuravaan. ¡°You of all people wouldn¡¯t be able to start anything if your life depended on it¡­ Actually, considering what¡¯s out there, it kind of is! Isn¡¯t that funny?¡± Kuravaan turned to look at the Aztecs in the crowd. ¡°We don¡¯t know what kind of grift this guy pulled to end up being ¡®the best candidate for leadership¡¯ in all your eyes, even just subconsciously, but it clearly isn¡¯t paying off in the long run. Thanks to your glorious leader, we give you a month, optimistically, before you either get killed like the rest of the New Worlders who couldn¡¯t cut it, or end up lucky enough to turn mortal and find a nice hole to hide away and die in. Give ¡®em a big hand!¡± ¡°I¨CI don¡¯t¨C¡± Kuravaan glanced back at Omet. ¡°And to think, there are half a dozen different better candidates in this very room to try and deal with us. But instead, you ended up doing it because of a nonexistent title that you didn¡¯t earn. How could you have? You wore a cardigan to a party!¡± ¡°Okay, no, no, that¨C¡± With a rush of wind, Horan appeared on stage in an instant and snatched the microphone out of Kuravaan¡¯s hand. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± The amplified squeal of the jostled microphone reverberated through the foyer, the only sound in the room for a good five seconds. Horan stood up straight and looked Kuravaan in the eye, already slick with sweat. ¡°¡­That¡¯s enough.¡± Kuravaan slowly shook his head. ¡°We were wondering when you¡¯d decide to finally speak up. Badmouthing your little pet project really struck a nerve, huh? Let¡¯s hope you don¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°They¡¯re not my pet project.¡± ¡°Right, yes.¡± Kuravaan gently prised the microphone from Horan¡¯s slick fingers. ¡°It¡¯s just the inexperienced leader of a young Domain who you took under your wing and started training in the ¡®art of socialization¡¯.¡± He scoffed. ¡°Not that many other words for it.¡± Horan attempted to respond, but was shut down by Kuravaan bringing the microphone back up and moving forward, forcing him back a step. ¡°We know you¡¯re not quite as much of a pushover as that little ball of wool and sadness a metre to your right. So please, allow us to be a bit more forward.¡± On the other side of the room, Mark exchanged a glance with a Quet. The two attempted to push through the crowd and reach the stage while Kuravaan continued. ¡°See, our earlier comments about what¡¯s going on in that head of yours weren¡¯t blind guessing. You¡¯ve been in this business longer than anyone else in the room, and by quite the margin too. Our Domain honestly has nothing but respect for you. I mean, back in the Middle Ages, you were the biggest name from Nubia to Nepal, let alone what we¡¯ve heard about the times before we were around.¡± Kuravaan let out a melodramatic sigh. ¡°And look at you now.¡± Horan¡¯s eye went wide. ¡°Someone with a history like you? Bringing yourself down to a place like this?¡± Kuravaan sniggered. ¡°We all know you aren¡¯t jumping through all these hoops out of the kindness of your golden heart. We can respect a trick like this, you know. Getting someone else to do the hard parts for you is the first lesson of leadership, after all. Sentiment is for victims.¡± Omet brought their hand up to Horan¡¯s shoulder, but he didn¡¯t seem to react at all. ¡°We can recognize someone who actually has what it takes to get through the hardships of modern life,¡± said Kuravaan, turning to the crowd. ¡°Don¡¯t we, everyone?¡± The Indians in the crowd shouted their assent, several whistling at Horan. ¡°So surely you understand how much it worries us to see you go soft, Horan. Can¡¯t you see how all these months among¡­ Aztecs, of all Primoi, has turned you into a paralyzed wreck? These Primoi aren¡¯t good for your spirit, Horan. We look out for our own these days, and seeing such a paragon of refinement and intelligence be reduced like this? It simply won¡¯t do! You¡¯ve already lost an eye out here, what else could happen?¡± Kuravaan narrowed his crimson eyes and leaned up close to Horan. Horan¡¯s nose was suddenly overpowered by the battery of colognes that Kuravaan had evidently covered himself with at some point. Kuravaan saw Horan¡¯s nose wrinkle and sighed. ¡°¡­It won¡¯t do at all. And it really wouldn¡¯t be very pleasant for anyone involved if we decided that you needed a quick-quick period of isolation with Primoi closer to your own venerable age. Accommodating you long-term to an acceptable standard, of course, would be quite intensive. Only the absolute best for you, after all. We¡¯d barely have time to perform community outreach in these parts of the world, even!¡± A strangled croak managed to escape Horan, followed by yet more silence. ¡°But it¡¯s all up to you,¡± said Kuravaan, bringing the microphone between himself and Horan. ¡°So give us your own input. We know we don¡¯t need to ask you to be honest about this. You always are. How much do you really need us to help you? Are you¡­ one of these people? Have they really made you one of them? Have you lost who you are that badly? Do these Primoi call you their friend? Do you call them yours?¡± Kuravaan¡¯s last few words echoed through the foyer for a moment, followed by thunderous silence. Horan stared down at the microphone, hypnotized. Time no longer existed. Mark pushed past one of the Indians at the front and came up to the stage, putting his¨C ¡°No.¡± Half the crowd in front of the stage erupted into cheers and wild hoots, surging forward and drowning Mark out in a sea of jubilant Indians. ¡°There he is! Back on our level, like he should be! Bring him up, everyone!¡± Kuravaan waved at three Indians, who clambered onto the stage and lifted Horan onto their shoulders, parading him across the platform like a sports superstar. ¡°You made the right choice, Horan!¡± called out Kuravaan. ¡°Any other words you have to say on the matter? Anything you¡¯ve been waiting to say in the right company?!¡± A stream of dark blue light followed Horan¡¯s finger as he frantically traced a thin strip of glyphs in the air. Before anyone could stop him, he shrunk into the shape of a falcon and took off, flying up towards the balcony above. Omet watched Horan fly off, a hand covering their mouth. With herculean effort, they looked down and made eye contact with Kuravaan, who could barely be made out in the throng of celebrating Indians. ¡°Hey, y¨Cyou said that if he didn¡¯t¡­ need you¡­ you would actually help. Are you¡­?¡± Kuravaan stopped and sneered, bringing the microphone back up to his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re still holding out hope, huh?¡± Hearing their leader¡¯s amplified voice echo around them, the Indians calmed down and looked at Kuravaan and Omet with much the same energy as a flock of vultures circling an imminent kill. ¡°It¡¯s true, you people really are gullible when you¡¯re desperate!¡± Kuravaan chuckled. ¡°Well, you know how it is. Horan made the right choice, so you weren¡¯t automatically disqualified. But in case the time has escaped you, your obligation only runs out in the better part of an hour. And we could really do with a little extra time to mull things over. You might even still try a few tricks to sway the vote. We¡¯ll have to see.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Omet stepped forward and raised a finger at Kuravaan. ¡°You promised that¨C!¡± Kuravaan batted Omet¡¯s finger aside. ¡°We didn¡¯t promise anything, not to you.¡± He turned away from Omet and clapped to get the attention of his Domain. ¡°Hey everyone, things are awfully dull from an auditory point of view, all of a sudden. How about we bring the local entertainment back up here and see if they¡¯ve taken our helpful and thoughtful critique to heart?¡± The Indians cheered with approval at the idea. Several still on the ground pushed the Aztec band back onstage, where they were issued back to their instruments. The piano player brushed off hands that tried to push her back into her seat. She looked Kuravaan in the eye. ¡°You¡¯re nuts, all of you.¡± ¡°And the four of you are burning daylight, start playing. Or would you all rather be the ones responsible for spoiling things just enough for us to change our minds?¡± The player looked pleadingly at Omet, who was still trying to hide themself from nobody in particular. They averted their eyes, hurrying to get off the stage. The player grimaced. ¡°This won¡¯t make you change your minds about anything, will it?¡± Kuravaan smiled. ¡°Start playing.¡± Omet hurried away from the stage and towards the stairs, moving past Quet on their way. Quet tried to follow them, reaching out a hand that grasped at nothing. ¡°Hey, wait, what about¡­?¡± But by the time she could think of what to say afterwards, Omet had disappeared into the crowd. As the first few strangled notes started back up on stage, she made for the stairs. There weren¡¯t many places that they could have been going to. Chapter 32 With a delicate knock on the door to Hurat¡¯s room, Quet opened the door partway and leaned through. She glanced at Omet lying face-down on Hurat¡¯s bed. ¡°You good?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Checks out.¡± Quet entered the nearly pitch-black room fully and shut the door behind her. ¡°Sorry for the delay in getting here, by the way. The whole family was passively-aggressively coerced into staying downstairs to ¡®keep the party moving¡¯, and I only got a pass because I was deemed a ¡®mood-ruiner¡¯. In their defense, the noise and crowds were making me start to freak out. Can¡¯t be all bad news, I guess.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you know I was in here?¡± ¡°I did try both your and Horan¡¯s room first,¡± said Quet. ¡°Both are empty, by the way, so jot that down. Don¡¯t worry, Waia said she saw him heading for the portal room.¡± ¡°I mean, how¡­¡± Omet lifted their face out of the otherwise immaculate blanket. ¡°I thought nobody knew I came in here.¡± ¡°Everyone knows, Omet. We just don¡¯t want to make a big deal out of it.¡± Omet groaned and sat up on the bed. ¡°Make yourself comfortable.¡± Quet plopped herself down in the hammock in the corner and started swaying herself back and forth in it. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve got quite a few talking points to go over with you, but for pretty much all of them, I either don¡¯t need to say them, or don¡¯t want to say them. Quite the predicament.¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°Well, it¡¯s just ¡®pretty much all¡¯, right? Start with the easy ones.¡± ¡°¡­Okay, no, I lied, all of them are in one of those two camps.¡± Quet switched on the wall-mounted reading lamp next to her head, filling the room with colors besides green, yellow and purple. When she saw Omet grimace in the light, she promptly turned the lamp off again, reducing their face to two floating orbs of mismatched color. ¡°Okay, so, in the ¡®don¡¯t need to say it¡¯ camp, we can start with the whole situation downstairs. It¡¯s the nightmare scenario, like you predicted.¡± ¡°And I thought I was just being a knee-jerk doomsayer when I started drawing up plans,¡± said Omet. ¡°Being right sucks, I should try to avoid it.¡± ¡°Nothing to do about your foresight now,¡± said Quet. ¡°At least we¡¯re prepared for it.¡± ¡°Que¡­¡± Omet sighed and leaned against the wall. ¡°Operation Netherworld was, like, four-fifths not serious. It was mostly just supposed to be a bonding thing. ¡®Ha ha, hey guys, remember how I made this whole plan in case the Indians in case they made things hard for us? Pretty wild, huh?¡¯. That kind of thing.¡± ¡°Wasn¡¯t exactly designed with the intention of actually seeing use, huh?¡± ¡°Maybe after the fact or something,¡± said Omet. ¡°As a show of trust for¡­ I dunno, someone. Again, it was a very spur-of-the-moment move.¡± ¡°Explains why you just took the foundations from one of our performances.¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°Not really surprised that you pulled a move like that. Again, short notice. Plus, it let you include the props that we haven¡¯t cleared out yet.¡± ¡°It sucks. We¡¯re keeping it in the ¡®just kidding¡¯ zone.¡± ¡°It does not suck, and we¡¯re putting it in the ¡®I had no idea we were cool enough to actually do this¡¯ camp.¡± Omet shut their eyes, leaving Quet¡¯s eyes as the only visible things in the room. Quet grinned. ¡°Omet. C¡¯mon, Omet, it¡¯s gonna rule.¡± She sat up and began to chant. ¡°Do it! Do it! Do it!¡± ¡°This is stupid. I¡¯m stupid.¡± Omet curled up into a fetal position. ¡°Those guys weren¡¯t really wrong about me, I¡¯ve been relying on Horan to do pretty much anything that I¡¯m supposed to do. And, well, look at how that turned out for him. He¡¯s not even in this dimension anymore¡­¡± ¡°Mm-hm, sure, keep going.¡± ¡°Apparently, I got picked to be the new one in charge because of consensus opinion that I¡¯m the best candidate in the Domain? That¡¯s what Kuravaan said, and I definitely don¡¯t disagree that I have absolutely zero qualifications.¡± ¡°Right, so let me quickly recap.¡± Quet clapped. ¡°Everything that the Indians said in their overall takedown was wrong and fake and stupid, with the exception of everything that they said about you specifically, which was actually unequivocally true? Am I getting the right gist of things?¡± ¡°¡­Wow, I do sound like an idiot.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± Quet tossed her head backwards into the hammock¡¯s pillows. ¡°Finally, someone in this mess of a building who understands the concept of common sense. And I would like to clarify that that only makes one, I am stupid and should not be listened to and you should do as I suggest-slash-demand and do the thing.¡± Quet awaited some kind of response, but found only darkness and silence for a good few seconds. ¡°¡­Did you die?¡± ¡°¡­He said that we aren¡¯t his friends, and he meant it.¡± Quet rolled her eyes. ¡°C¡¯mon, Omet, don¡¯t fall back into the idiot habits. He didn¡¯t mean it.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°He had to have.¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°You know how he is around crowds. Better than me, even. He says what they want to hear.¡± ¡°This is what happens when we act like people strictly better than us practically have any chance of being civil. Their leader is better at leadership than me, their musician is better than all of ours combined, they¡¯ve got someone who can just magically teleport everyone here with no Down Below needed, they¨C¡± ¡°They have a¨C?¡± Quet furiously shook her head. ¡°No, that¡¯s¨Cthat¡¯s not even possible¡­ Nor is it relevant, please change the subject. ¡°Point is, it¡¯s literally impossible for him to say something completely serious and not mean it.¡± ¡°Well, there you have it,¡± said Quet. ¡°He wasn¡¯t completely serious. He¡¯s gonna pop out of the portal any minute now, head downstairs and yell ¡®Psych¡¯. Easy.¡± ¡°¡­What are you doing?¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°Enforcing my rule: No bummers. That hasn¡¯t gone away, by the way. If you¡¯re going to be a world-class negative nelly in your dead brother¡¯s void-room, I need to keep offsetting you by being a na?vely optimistic clown.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re accomplishing absolutely nothing by lying there and whining,¡± said Quet. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re trying to do over there, you¡¯re not gonna succeed without a tub of ice cream or two. Do you want some? Do you want me to go downstairs and pull some ice cream out of the freezer for you? Is that what you want?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then stop being a bummer. I banned those for a reason.¡± Quet sat back up. ¡°But I can protest all I want, right? You¡¯re gonna be lying there until you decide not to of your own free will. What¡¯s it gonna take to get you up and running?¡± ¡°Talent.¡± Quet sucked in her lips. ¡°¡­Preferably something that I can go do-slash-bring. Talent is a bit too abstract.¡± ¡°People who don¡¯t count on me.¡± ¡°¡­Less abstract,¡± admitted Quet, ¡°also less attainable short-term. Take three, what do you got?¡± ¡°A hug.¡± ¡°I was hoping you would pick that one.¡± Quet climbed out of the hammock. If, uh, if you could open your eyes, it¡¯s a little hard to find you.¡± Omet opened their eyes and was swiftly enveloped around the shoulders by Quet¡¯s arms. They felt her squeeze them briefly. ¡°Yeah, this¡­ isn¡¯t helping.¡± Quet released Omet and pushed away from them, sitting next to them on the bed. ¡°Seriously? We went through this whole thing with negotiating something for me to give you, and you can¡¯t even go the distance to feel a little assured and supported by my presence? I just wanna point out that I was way easier to manage back during our trip to the afterlife, you gotta start helping me help you.¡± Omet scooted slightly so that they were facing Quet directly instead of having to turn their head to see her eyes in the darkness. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll point out right back that you were just feeling somewhat bummed out about the situation at large. This situation is way different.¡± ¡°Wh¨C A¨C?¡± Quet stared incredulously at Omet. ¡°D¨C If you aren¡¯t bummed out, what are you? Succumbing to the malefic grasp of the Night Tiger? You can¡¯t start spiraling; it¡¯s been a day!¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°I¨CI¡¯m not spiraling, if that helps. Just kind of feeling my failings as someone who¡¯s had thirty-odd loved ones put their trust in me.¡± ¡°You printed out a scheme a few hours ago that conclusively proves to every one of us, individually, that putting our trust in you was a good idea.¡± Omet groaned. ¡°Did we spend all this time just to circle back to that? We¡¯re not doing that, it¡¯s stupid and lame.¡± Quet gasped in shock and placed a hand over her chest. ¡°How dare you! You shall not disrespect the performance arts in such a manner in this household!¡± Omet squinted at Quet. ¡°I mean, it is kind of always lame, on a baseline level.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, man, nothing that we¡¯ve all invested this much time and passion into can be lame. It¡¯s impossible. Physically.¡± Quet placed an arm around Omet¡¯s shoulder. ¡°For one, just think of all the skills development we¡¯ve gotten out of it! I don¡¯t care if I started taking voice training lessons for completely unrelated reasons, I am not letting these pipes I ended up with go to waste.¡± ¡°I think we might be arguing about different things,¡± said Omet. ¡°Great,¡± said Quet, ¡°that means we don¡¯t disagree on anything. Doing something fun and cool with your family isn¡¯t lame and we all need an emotional pick-me-up. If only there was some kind of operation that we¡¯ve all prepared for that just so happens to be cool enough to pick up literally everyone nearby and save the day. If only¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯re not doing it,¡± muttered Omet. ¡°We failed today, and nothing that we do is going to un-fail this. There¡¯s not even any point to this.¡± Quet groaned and leaned against the wall. ¡°I would like to quickly make the observation that at no point have you commented on your thoughts on the efficacy of the hypothetical operation.¡± Omet covered their eyes. ¡°¡­Sorry, I¡¯m stupid today.¡± ¡°You think it would work, don¡¯t you?¡± Omet shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Might make things better. Pretty equivalent chance of making them worse.¡± ¡°Ugh.¡± Quet got up from the bed. ¡°You know what your problem is?¡± She switched the lamp on the wall back on, making Omet shield their eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve realized that the success of this last Hail Mary depends entirely on your own confidence in its success. And it¡¯s good that you¡¯ve realized that, because it¡¯s true.¡± Omet slowly lowered their hand from their eyes, blinking in the light. ¡°Okay, sure, and it¡¯s pretty clear by now that I don¡¯t have the confidence you need from me, so unless you have anywhere to go from there, can w¨C¡± ¡°I do have places to go, actually. And you don¡¯t. Just place. Singular.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t¨C¡± ¡°Consider, first, the consequences of inaction.¡± Quet leaned against the wall opposite Omet, looking judgmentally at them. ¡°You stay here in the dark, the Indians continue to trashify the party downstairs, Horan exists sans ice cream and friendship for three to four hours, and every inhabitant of the house suffers eternal dishonor. Now, could you kindly list off the actual concrete consequences, guaranteed or possible, of the alternative?¡± Omet looked at the floor in silence, brow furrowed. ¡°Exactly. The worst has happened. You can¡¯t be any more humiliated than you already have been. We can¡¯t un-fail, nor can we fail any harder than we already have been. We¡¯ve hit rock bottom, and that¡¯s the third best thing it¡¯s possible to hit! Success is glorious and failure is inconsequential. Nothing left to do but at least try to take the leap, and follow through if you feel like it. There¡¯s a small chance that you¡¯ll even look good doing it, and that small chance becomes big if, and only if, you treat it like it¡¯s guaranteed.¡± Omet sighed slowly. After a long time, they stood up, jaw clenched. ¡°Then that¡¯s exactly what we¡¯ll do.¡± ¡°There they are.¡± Chapter 33 Kuravaan watched the band finish their latest song, the fifth one completed since they had received advice from the real experts. He glanced up, briefly scanned the balcony for the third time in as many minutes, then looked back down at the band. One of the players was looking intently at something in the nearby crowd. After a moment, she looked away and, poorly suppressing a smile, nodded to the rest of the band. She leaned towards her microphone and spoke in a calm, soothing tone. ¡°Alright everyone, I hope you¡¯ve had a decent night so far. This next song is a very special request, ¡®What You Gotta Say¡¯, by our very own Ometicitemo. Not that you asked or anything. Three, two, one¨C¡± As the band started up smooth, quiet tune, Kuravaan heard someone sidle up next to him. He turned to see Omet standing beside him, cardigan buttoned up and pulled close. ¡°Right, you. Any more noises to stammer out?¡± ¡°Y¨C Well, I, um¡­¡± ¡°Knew it.¡± Omet took a deep breath before continuing. ¡°So, uh, I know we¡¯re still obligated to host your family fo¨C¡± ¡°Domain.¡± ¡°¨Cfor another half-hour or so, but since you¡¯ve kind of already made a decision and done everything else you need to do here, I was just wondering if there was some kind of agreement we could come to that would get you to leave early? Like, I assume it¡¯s too much hassle to just pack up and leave the second that time runs out?¡± Kuravaan snickered and shook his head. ¡°As if you Primoi have the backbone to actually kick us out. Look, kid, your Domain is too fun for us to mess with for us to just leave. Look at how much fun we¡¯re having!¡± He pointed to an Aztec near the buffet, just in time to watch them get tripped by an Indian who promptly poured a cup of what looked like clam chowder onto the back of their prone head. A quiet ¡®Whoops¡¯ carried across the room. ¡°Yeah,¡± continued Kuravaan, ¡°this is too good of an opportunity to pass up. There are less and less dunces to take advantage of every day. We might leave in a day, maybe two, however long it takes for us to feel satisfied enough by your service.¡± Omet turned to the band, who instantly cut off their performance. They turned back to Kuravaan, a grin plastered across their face and malice infesting their purple eyes. ¡°Hey, Quet¡­ What did he just say?¡± Quet popped out of the crowd, hands innocently tucked behind her back. ¡°Dunno, Omet.¡± When she continued, she seemed to be singing. ¡°What they had to say?¡± ¡°Sadly, no.¡± Omet waited for the band to start back up with a completely different tune to what they had been playing before, then mimicked Quet¡¯s musical tone and took slow, small steps towards Kuravaan. ¡°He said that they¡¯ve got no plans to all go away.¡± Kuravaan looked dumbfounded. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°I want to hear pain,¡± sang Omet. ¡°To hear we¡¯re insane¡­ To hear you say, ¡®We will never come here again¡¯!¡± A patch of the floor near one Indian flared briefly with light, followed by a loud bang echoing through the foyer. The Indian shrieked with surprise and jumped away from where the light had been, stumbling and collapsing onto the floor. Quet cackled and produced a single stone from her sleeve, displaying it in her hand. ¡°To hear a few screams¡­¡± She tapped the stone and another explosion went off between the feet of another Indian, sending them toppling into the arms of another. Quet smirked. ¡°Would satisfy me.¡± She pressed her stone over and over, detonating another half-dozen hidden stones on the floor. ¡°To hear that you¡¯ve de-ci-ded to leave-us-all-be!¡± ¡°None of you here¡­¡± Omet sneered at a baffled Kuravaan. ¡°Would deserve a cheer.¡± Quet and Omet stood next to each other and continued in unison. ¡°Now that we¡¯re making you all pay, you know what to say!¡± - Lamius watched Horan open up his second tub of homemade ice cream. ¡°I assume they have some fancy machine to make this stuff in a few minutes, but I¡¯m telling you, any recipe is at its best when made by hand¡­ So, maybe once you¡¯ve had a bit of that one, you can tell me what made you come back down here? Er, alone?¡± Horan, curled up on one of the couches in Lamius¡¯ greenhouse, paused with the spoon in his mouth. ¡°¡­Oh, this probably took you hours to make, huh? I¡¯m so sorry, this whole time, it¡¯s just been nothing but¨C¡± ¡°¡¯Scuse me!¡± Omet ran into the greenhouse, their heavy breathing filling the silence for a moment as they leaned against the doorframe. ¡°Horan, can you just¡­? Hang on a second...¡± They doubled over and rested their hands on their knees. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have started running right after coming down here¡­¡± Horan set the ice cream to the side. ¡°Wha¨C Omet? How¡¯d you find me he¡­ Wait, where¡¯s purple-you?¡± Omet took a deep breath and stood up straight. ¡°Uh, no time to explain but I¡¯ll show you soon but first can you come back up with me please now do it yes?¡± ¡°¡­Is something happening?¡± ¡°Uh, sure, something like that, can we please go right now?¡± Horan glanced back at Lamius, who nodded enthusiastically at him. ¡°Okay, uh¡­¡± He shrugged and vaulted over the back of the couch, floating over to Omet. ¡°Let¡¯s go, can you explain on the way?¡± ¡°¡¯Fraid not.¡± Omet took Horan¡¯s hand and pulled him towards the portal room. ¡°Hurry-hurry-hurry!¡± ¡°¡­Nice to see you again, Omet!¡± called Lamius as the two ran off. - Kuravaan wiped ice-cold clam chowder off of his face and stood up, being careful not to step on any of the shards of broken glass littering the floor. ¡°You two¡­ Aztecs¡­ are the most vile, uncouth, repugnantly horrid creatures I have ever entered the lair of! You have no right to treat guests like this!¡± ¡°Neat.¡± Omet nudged Quet, who was busy nudging globs of gelatin on the floor away from herself with the tip of her shoe. ¡°Hey, you know what would really get these losers to say what they need to?¡± Quet giggled and grinned, to the visible dismay of the Indians watching them from a distance. ¡°I dunno, Omet, what?¡± ¡°About thirty more us-es!¡± Omet cupped their hands around their mouth. ¡°C¡¯mon out, everyone!¡± One by one, the other Aztecs emerged from every conceivable place they could be staying in. Some exited their rooms and slid down the railing of the spiral staircase. Three emerged from a trapdoor hidden in the floor, startling another cluster of Indians. One came out of the pantry, mouth and hands stuffed with shredded cheese. Omet planted their feet wide and put their hands on their hips. ¡°Sounds to me like some of you haven¡¯t properly introduced yourselves. Why don¡¯t you give our honored guests a belated greeting or fifty?¡± While the Aztecs jeered and mocked the distressed Indians, Mark took a seat next to Saralai, who watched the scene from the corner of the foyer. ¡°So, do you have any idea of what they¡¯re¡­ doing?¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Saralai watched a clump of thrown shredded cheese smack an Indian in the face, which prompted a mockingly jubilant toot from the saxophonist onstage. ¡°Family bonding.¡± ¡°Oh, got it.¡± As an Indian tried to back away from a throng of Aztecs, another snuck behind him and stuck a leg out, tripping him. Quet tossed a stone to the Aztec, who squeezed it and held it over the Indian¡¯s face. A stream of viscous scampi emerged from the stone, covering the Indian¡¯s mortified visage in shrimp, broth and garlic. The Aztec leaned over the Indian innocently. ¡°Whoops.¡± Quet threw her hands in in the air. ¡°Whoo! I do not regret making that many food storage matrices!¡± Mark brought a hand up to his chin. ¡°I actually didn¡¯t think Quet would be this good at performing, I didn¡¯t think she was even fully functional in crowds.¡± Quet waved at Mark as she rolled past. She appeared to be wearing shoes with wheels built into the soles. ¡°That¡¯s because I need to act like a normal person every day of my life!¡± ¡°Touch¨¦,¡± said Mark. - Omet wheezed desperately as they tried to maintain a fast pace down the hall. ¡°Okay¡­ I know¡­ it looks¡­ bad¡­ but I¡­ I swear¡­ Oh man¡­ It¡¯s gonna¡­ Work ou¨C whoof¡­ Out.¡± Horan nervously folded his arms while he floated alongside Omet. ¡°Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have made you portal up and down in such a short time. So¡­ This doesn¡¯t have anything to do with what happened on stage, right?¡± ¡°See¡­¡± Omet stumbled to the ground and pointed weakly towards the balcony twenty feet ahead that offered a view of the foyer. ¡°Yourself¡­ Down¡­ Song¡­¡± Horan approached the balcony, looked down, and froze in shock when he realized what the Aztecs were doing. The Aztecs had formed a cordon between the Indians and the stage, around which the Greeks congregated while the band played their hearts out. Every few seconds, the Aztecs took a collective step forward, with two or three lunging forward each time and acting as if they were about to grab at a nearby Indian¡¯s sleeve or hair. Kuravaan recoiled from a grasping Aztec, eyes reminiscent of those of a horse that had smelled blood. ¡°Get¡­ Get away, you savages!¡± ¡°I think you¡¯re the one who ought to get away,¡± jeered Omet, ¡°before we¡¯re done playing with our food!¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± called out an Aztec. ¡°We¡¯re menaces to society!¡± Most of the Domain roared their assent. ¡°Too spineless to throw a punch until one of us does?¡± Omet snorted. ¡°Pretty nice ¡®rules¡¯ of yours now, huh?!¡± ¡°We are not ¡®spineless¡¯!¡± protested Kuravaan. ¡°We will not stoop to your level, this is childish!¡± ¡°Childish, you say?¡± Omet grinned. ¡°Hey everyone, it sounds to me like our cherished guests are being a bit dismissive! Let¡¯s see you dismiss this!¡± They stomped on the floor. ¡°Release the snake!¡± From the same trapdoor that some of the Aztecs had emerged from earlier, an enormous animatronic snake sprung into being, its black-and-white segmented body extending upwards like an accordion. The snake¡¯s eyes lit up with internal lights as it jerkily bent over to seemingly examine the crowd of Indians before it as a static-y roar emerged from its innards. Without warning, its mouth unhinged and a smaller snake-head poked out from between its teeth. The second head cackled like a witch, opened its own mouth, and belched foul-smelling fog over the crowd, the larger snake moving back and forth like it was putting out a fire. Omet took in the disgusted shrieks of the unwanted guests, breathed in the acrid cloud and sighed. ¡°I love theater.¡± Kuravaan grimaced, his nose turning up at the smell of the fog. ¡°Everyone, door. We¡¯ll see.¡± The laughter and mockery only grew louder as the Indians turned and went for the door. Several Aztecs pelted the Indians in the back with plastic cups, only hastening the retreat. The animatronic snake gave one last canned chuckle before retreating back into the trapdoor. Quet followed closely behind the Indians, and when the last of them had passed through the door, she produced a plastic bag filled with stones. ¡°One last parting gift. If you guys are so fancy with your instant-teleportation, how¡¯s about you try to figure out my chicken scratch and get off our lawn?!¡± She hurled the bag into the arms of one of the Indians. Omet strode towards the double doors and grinned smugly at Kuravaan¡¯s look of disgust. ¡°Well folks, it¡¯s been horrible getting to know you, you have all managed to effectively ruin the day of everyone present, and I hope you somehow manage to choke to death on the lovingly hand-made matrix that Quet is gifting you.¡± They slammed the doors shut. ¡°And don¡¯t come back!¡± They turned to address the waiting crowd of Aztecs around them. ¡°Yes, we made them say¡­!¡± The crowd erupted into ecstatic motion, leaping into the air and hugging each other. A collective ¡°Yes we did!¡± rippled through them. ¡°What they had to say!¡± responded Omet. ¡°Yes they did!¡± Omet looked up at a stunned Horan staring at them from the balcony above. They grinned with relief at the fact that he had gotten a good view. ¡°They said that¨C¡± The yellow-eyed Omet accompanying Horan wrapped one arm around his shoulder, to his visible surprise. ¡°¨Cthere are no more buzzkills left to¨C¡± ¡°¨Cruin our day!¡± finished the crowd of Aztecs beneath Horan. Yellow Omet pushed Horan down the stairs leading to the ground floor. ¡°Thanks to each stone¡­¡± ¡°Of contempt that we¡¯ve thrown¡­¡± continued the crowd below. ¡°I would say¡­¡± Omet carefully led Horan down the spiral stairs, making sure to keep an eye trained on their family. ¡°Those losers will leave us all alone!¡± They smirked and glanced at Horan. ¡°That¡¯s honestly fair.¡± ¡°That¡¯s honestly fair, dude,¡± echoed the crowd. ¡°But please don¡¯t despair,¡± continued Omet. ¡°But please don¡¯t despair, dude!¡± ¡°We can get through this round, so¡­¡± Omet brought Horan to the bottom of the stairs and pulled him into the crowd, who surrounded the two of them with jubilant cries of ¡°Who needs those squares?¡± ¡°They made me appalled,¡± said Omet, resting their hands on Horan¡¯s shoulders. ¡°But now you know¡­¡± Omet pulled Horan into a tight hug, burying their face in his neck and squeezing him tightly. ¡°All of us care!¡± sang the crowd around them. Omet released Horan and retreated into the crowd, which parted to give them space to walk backwards while they kept their gaze trained on Horan. Their voice joined a choir of dozens as they sang, ¡°But that isn¡¯t something we must say¡­¡± The second Omet emerged from the crowd and held hands with their yellow-eyed counterpart while both of them continued in perfect synchronicity. ¡°It¡¯s what we wanna say!¡± The two Omets merged back into one and the crowd around them erupted into chaos, embracing each other and pumping the air with built-up energy. Omet, breathing heavily, approached Horan. They had to raise their voice to speak over the sound of celebration around them. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ You don¡¯t need to say anything, not right now. I¡¯m not asking you to. I just wanted you to know that we have each other¡¯s back out here, no matter what. Take all the time you want, and once you¡¯re ready, we can all start with¨C Huh?¡± Several Aztecs lifted Omet onto their shoulders and paraded them around the room, while Omet tried to maintain balance with a flustered grin plastered across their face. They gave Horan a quick wave before passing out of sight. Mark sidled up to Horan and tapped him on the shoulder. ¡°You know what? You were right to get us to settle down here. These people are awesome.¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s¡­¡± Horan covered his mouth. ¡°They¡¯re great. They don¡¯t¡­ Excuse me.¡± Mark nodded curtly as Horan turned and went back up the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re excused.¡± Across the room, Omet was set down on the floor, three Aztecs reaching out at once to ruffle their hair. Omet chuckled. ¡°Okay, guys, I get it, it¡¯s not a big deal!¡± Quet punched Omet in the arm. ¡°It was a huge deal! That was the lamest thing I¡¯ve ever seen, it was awesome!¡± ¡°That it was.¡± Omet looked over the heads of their siblings and saw Horan looking down at them while he climbed back up the stairs. They smiled and gave a pleasant wave, which was sheepishly returned in kind. Omet sighed. ¡°It was the dumbest thing I¡¯ll ever conceive of. You guys think the Indians left anything behind for us to finders-keepers?¡± - Waia lay curled up on her bed, doodling Kuravaan as a tuxedo-wearing vampire, when Horan quietly opened the door to her bedroom and walked inside. Waia looked up from her sketchpad. ¡°I heard singing noises downstairs. How¡¯d the Indians get treated?¡± ¡°We¡¯re doing the contingency,¡± said Horan. ¡°Now.¡± Waia sighed and tossed her sketchpad to the floor. ¡°Took you long enough.¡± Chapter 34 Quet rolled along the balcony, distributing ice-filled glasses to the guests of the official Aztec Party This Time For Realsies (as it had been officially declared by Omet). She paused for a moment to watch Omet grip the railing with bone-white knuckles, trying desperately to stay upright on the rollerblades that they were borrowing from one of the Greeks. She cupped her mouth with her one free hand. ¡°It¡¯s easier to stay upright when you¡¯re moving, like with bikes!¡± Omet pushed off the railing, drifted forward for half a second, then stumbled and had to be caught by one of their siblings. When they were returned to the railing, they were grinning like a lunatic. ¡°Hey, I actually stayed up for a second there!¡± Rachna, perched atop the balcony railing like a monkey and alternating between every Aztec in his line of sight every few seconds, nodded calmly. ¡°That might just be the lamest-best marionette I ever had the pleasure of meeting.¡± ¡°Ditto,¡± said Quet, rolling up next to Rachna with her tray of glasses extended to the side with one arm. ¡°So, uh, do you have any plans on following the rest of your family? I mean, we could set up another room for you here, if you wanna just ditch them.¡± Rachna shrugged. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t bother. Bedrooms won¡¯t be in fashion quite soon. It¡¯s not worth it anymore. Go downstairs.¡± ¡°Uh¡­¡± Quet noticed that the last of the glasses had been taken from the tray that she was carrying. ¡°Okay then, I was gonna head down anyway. Stay weird.¡± She turned and rolled towards the door leading downstairs in order to bring another set of glasses up. On her way to the spiral staircase leading to the foyer, Quet looked down and spotted Horan and Waia heading for the front door. ¡°Hey, where¡¯re you two going? You¡¯ve already been invited to the Ap-ti-tiffer upstairs, everyone is.¡± Horan and Waia sped up, opened the doors, and left the building. Quet hurried down the stairs and followed the two outside, but by the time she made it to the front yard, Horan was already carrying Waia over the treetops. ¡°I was just starting to enjoy today,¡± muttered Quet as she turned and ran back inside the building. - Mark leaned over the balcony railing and stared out at the ruins of the forest, empty styrofoam cup in one hand. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder and turned to see Quet standing behind him, wringing her hands. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°I hate to be the bummer for once, but, uh, Horan just left. With Waia.¡± Mark¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Which way did they go?¡± ¡°Buh¡­¡± Quet¡¯s eyes unfocused and she pointed in random directions for a moment. ¡°¡­South.¡± Mark rushed away from the railing and ran towards where Omet was standing. He grabbed them by the shoulder. ¡°Horan just¨C¡± He lowered his voice and stood on his toes to be closer to their ear. ¡°Horan just took off for the Seraphium.¡± He heard a sharp intake of breath from Omet. He stepped away from them and let them wave at the group they were hanging out with. ¡°Yeah, guys, just give me a second, I gotta do something.¡± Omet turned and met Mark¡¯s gaze, nodding towards the door leading downstairs. Mark nodded in turn and made for the door, Quet following close behind. Once he was sure that he was out of both sight and earshot, Mark sprinted down the hall towards Quet¡¯s room, threw the door open and picked the unfolded map off the floor. ¡°Okay, we still have this, so¡­¡± He turned around to face Quet, who had just managed to catch up to him. ¡°He didn¡¯t take the ghost car, right? It¡¯s still outside?¡± ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Quet nodded hastily. ¡°Horan¡¯s flying the two of them there, we still have the car.¡± ¡°Great, the keys are still inside. We¡¯re going now.¡± ¡°Hang on,¡± said Omet, waving at Quet, ¡°You still have the thing?¡± Quet nodded. She pulled out a section of the wall, rooted around in the drawer for a moment, then pulled out an off-purple contact lens, which she tossed to Omet. Omet split in two, with the yellow-eyed copy still holding the lens. ¡°We normally just use this for pranks,¡± explained Yellow Omet to Mark as they inserted the lens over their left eye, making it take on the color of Purple Omet¡¯s eyes. ¡°I wanna keep this low-profile, nobody here needs to know about where we¡¯re going. We need to go fast, before those two get themselves killed. You can take Purple, I¡¯ll try and make sure nobody notices that you¡¯re gone¡± Mark nodded and pulled Purple Omet behind him as he left the room with Quet, hurrying towards the front doors downstairs. ¡°I can¡¯t believe him,¡± muttered Mark as he descended the spiral stairs two at a time. ¡°Has that moron learned nothing?¡± ¡°I¡­ I kind of get Waia,¡± mumbled Omet, ¡°But Horan? I just did this whole thing for him¡­ What did I do wrong?¡± At the bottom of the stairs, they looked up at their counterpart and gave them a nervous wave before continuing after Mark. Mark opened the doors and ushered the two Aztecs towards the car parked outside. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong, Omet. Horan just can¡¯t learn how to make good decisions if his life depends on it. And I can actually say that now, because he may actually be in life-threatening danger.¡± Omet shifted into their human form in order to fit inside the car, strapped themself into the passenger seat and leaned against the dashboard. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m gonna throw up. I totally convinced him to do this somehow, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Yell at yourself all you want.¡± Mark turned the keys in the ignition, propped the map up against the gearshift, pulled a compass out of his hoodie pocket, placed it on the dashboard behind the steering wheel and slammed his foot on the accelerator, making the car take off through the trees in front of it with a screech. ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t slow us down.¡± ¡°Where¡¯d you get the compass from?¡± asked Quet, leaning between the two front seats. ¡°Lost my main one in the Servant city,¡± mumbled Mark, ¡°that one¡¯s my backup.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°¡­You have a backup compass?¡± ¡°I¡¯m proving that having one is a good idea right n¨C Can you just not say anything? I need to maintain the right direction.¡± Quet slunk back into her seat and looked out the window, watching the halo of blue light around the car fade in and out as they drove through tree after tree. ¡°Not the right time, got it¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be there in a little over ten minutes,¡± said Mark, ¡°since we can go as the crow flies. You have that long to prepare for people shooting at you.¡± ¡°You¡­¡± Omet¡¯s eyes unfocused for a moment. ¡°¡­Uh, you¡¯re pretty dead-set on this being an ambush by the Servants, huh?¡± ¡°With us getting the sketchiest lucky breaks I¡¯ve ever seen for the whole day? It¡¯s a guarantee.¡± ¡°¡­Yeah.¡± - When the three of them arrived at the spot marked on the map, it was surprisingly free of any traces of the Servants. What was actually there was¡­ something. A perfectly circular hole, hundreds of feet across, had been cleanly scooped out of the earth, its perfectly smooth, vertical slopes continuing downwards into impossible darkness. A dozen fifty-foot-wide stone pillars emerged from the darkness, connected by narrow wood-and-rope bridges as they slowly lowered in height from the side closest to where the car had arrived from, down to the opposite side of the hole, where twenty feet below ground level, a small doorway had been cut into the earth. The distant shapes of Horan and Waia stood in front of the doorway, on a small, perfectly flat ledge that was connected to the network of pillars by only a single bridge, just as the pillars were connected to the rim of the hole. Quet got out of the car and stared out at the sight in bafflement. ¡°This¡­ This was just here? For how long? And nobody¡¯s found it?¡± Omet stood beside Quet and nodded slowly. ¡°¡­Well¡­ If Deus doesn¡¯t want something to happen, it¡¯s not going to happen.¡± Quet glanced at her sibling. ¡°¡­You think the map was legit?¡± ¡°Look at this place,¡± said Omet. ¡°How could it not be?¡± Mark rushed past the two Aztecs, dead set on the indistinct dark blue spot of Horan on the other side of the pit. The moment he set foot on the bridge leading into the hole, however, Horan was right there. Mark blinked and stopped for a moment. Horan was not right in front of him, that could be seen after a split-second¡¯s pause. But whenever Mark focused on the other side of the pit, distance was eliminated and he could see and hear the far-away point with the clarity of someone standing only a few feet away. Mark hesitantly continued across the freely hanging bridge. ¡°Horan!¡± Horan jolted and turned around, looking at Mark in terror. ¡°You guys? Seriously? I d¨C You weren¡¯t supposed to¡­¡± ¡°Told you we shouldn¡¯t have just taken a photo of the map,¡± said Waia. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare move,¡± said Mark, continuing across the bridge towards the two Primoi on the other end. ¡°This place is a death trap, we¡¯re getting out of here right now. You don¡¯t go to a place this sketchy unless you absolutely need to, and you definitely don¡¯t do it alone!¡± Horan glanced at Waia, who shrugged apathetically. He turned back to face an approaching Mark. ¡°Look, I¡­ I know we agreed not to go here unless we were out of options, but I¡­ There¡¯s something up with this place. I mean, you can see the hole, but¡­ Please, just come here and hear me out.¡± Mark groaned and walked silently from pillar to pillar, arriving in front of Horan a couple minutes later with Quet and Omet behind him. ¡°Fine. What¡¯s so catch-free about the giant hole?¡± Horan turned to look at the rectangular passageway that penetrated the earth behind him. Above the doorway, a hazy line of glowing white letters formed a sentence in an unidentifiable language that Mark was nevertheless able to understand. ¡°¡®Into this vessel of forbidden history¡¯,¡± read Horan, ¡°¡®shall no Domain but Rome be granted passage¡¯.¡± He stretched his arm into the passage, only to be blocked by a rippling wall of dim white light that appeared from nothing and vanished when he pulled his hand away. ¡°White light in a place like this?¡± Horan stepped away from the passageway and stared into the darkness that it led to. ¡°This place is Deus¡¯. No investigation needed.¡± Mark folded his arms. ¡°So, what? You think that the magic fix-everything button is just sitting here?¡± ¡°It¡¯s something that Deus wants to keep hidden,¡± said Horan. ¡°That¡¯s not exactly a small list, but¡­ Well, why not the Seraphium? The only problem so far is that barrier.¡± Waia directed the group¡¯s attention to a fist-sized hole in the wall next to the passage. ¡°Can¡¯t get in from the side, either. It just¡­ doesn¡¯t exist from any angle except the front.¡± Mark approached the passageway and put his own arm forward. He passed through the space where Horan had been halted, with no barrier to be seen. ¡°¡­I¡¯m no Domain.¡± Quet furrowed her brow. ¡°No, it¡¯s¡­ It¡¯s not that. It can¡¯t be that easy.¡± Mark stepped fully into the passageway and pulled his gun from his waistband. ¡°It¡¯s not.¡± He pressed the button on the handle, and the apparatus unfolded into a pump-action shotgun with a flashlight attached to the end of the barrel. ¡°Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen: I¡¯m going to go in there while you stay here and make sure no Servants flood in after me. If you need to run, run. I¡¯ll see what¡¯s inside here, come back, tell you the disappointing news, and we¡¯ll all turn around, go home, and never speak of this again, having all learned a valuable lesson. Any objections?¡± The four Primoi stayed silent. ¡°Great.¡± Mark flipped the flashlight on and pointed it into the dark passageway. Right beyond the point where it had been too dark to see, the passageway turned to the right. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in ten minutes tops. If it¡¯s been half of that and I still haven¡¯t seen the end, I¡¯ll turn around and come back. If I¡¯m not back in ten minutes, you can cremate a pillow with my face on it or something.¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t say that,¡± croaked Omet. ¡°Ten minutes,¡± repeated Mark, before walking into the passageway and turning the corner. The passage, only enough to admit a single person at a time, widened considerably shortly after the corner. Mark emerged into a sandstone tunnel wide and high enough to fit a train car, which was illuminated by¡­ something. It was bright enough to see, and shadows were cast under Mark¡¯s feet, but no single light source was visible. Crude bas-reliefs covered both walls, with hundreds, if not thousands of painted humanoid figures standing in front of an array of large buildings with architectural styles from all over the world. The three-foot-high figures were not given individual detail or any distinct features, each simply a collection of basic shapes arranged to form a torso and limbs. Each was painted in a single, unbroken color. Most of the figures were orange or a color close to it, but enough variation was displayed to turn the walls into a kaleidoscope of color. Every single figure, without fail, was kneeling, bowed circle-heads pointed towards the far end of the passage. Mark walked past clusters of these figures, presented before towers, palaces, hillforts, mounds in the earth, and more. The echoing thuds of his boots hitting the immaculate sandstone floor stopped when he saw a group of figures near the floor, in front of a smooth-sided pyramid. His fingers brushed up against a figure painted dark blue, ever-so-slightly larger than its neighbors. After another three minutes or so of walking, Mark noticed that the massive hallway ended abruptly in a small silk curtain with something written on it. He jogged the rest of the distance and approached the curtain, noting the ¡®CHAMBER OF THE SERAPHIUM¡¯ embossed onto its indigo surface. Mark pushed the curtain aside and stepped past, entering a cavernous pale cube of a room, featureless except for the bas-relief on the opposite wall. The words ¡®WRONG GUESS. WE HAVE BEEN ALERTED TO YOUR ATTEMPT.¡¯ loomed down at Mark, carved into the sandstone. Flanking the block of writing were two more figures, both well over a hundred feet high and striking authoritative poses. The figure on the right was painted white, and the one on the left was the pale blue of the sky. Mark turned around and started running. Chapter 35 Kuravaan trudged up the hill, where he was met by a scrawny old man with one arm in a cast. He grimaced and watched the rest of the human-looking Indians walk nervously into the base camp of the Servants. ¡°You made the right decision,¡± said Suleman. ¡°I was never given a decision to make,¡± responded Kuravaan. ¡°Certain death is not an ¡®alternative¡¯.¡± ¡°You would be surprised,¡± said Suleman. ¡°Nevertheless, the deed is done. Torch has given authorization. Your Domain will be kept under the protection of the Servants henceforth, and no harm will befall any of you. I would recommend that you put the path to safety behind you. Nobody has been faced with a scenario where everybody wins for quite some time.¡± ¡°An easy thing for you to say, murderer.¡± Suleman winced. ¡°It¡¯s what has to be done if this world is to move any direction but down. You and your loved ones have been spared from judgment, and that is all that you need to worry about. I trust Torch and their plan, we all do, and for whatever reason, they have seen fit to let you all continue living after¡­ whatever it is you were told to do. I would advise that you do not question their decision, because there is always a slim chance that it may be reversed. I have no sympathy for your kind, but bloodshed should still be avoided where it can be.¡± Kuravaan turned to look at the rest of his Domain. Several looked at their gas mask-clad neighbors with apprehension and fear. Others still glared at him from some distance away. One or two simply sat in place, attempting to ride out their guilt. ¡°You can¡¯t change your mind now,¡± added Suleman. ¡°Their fate is sealed. It has been for some time. You can let yourself feel guilty for the undeserving as much as you want, but nothing will change about this course of events. Make things easier for yourselves.¡± Kuravaan walked away from Suleman without another word. As he walked with no real destination in mind, he glanced at the patch of forest a few hundred feet away that formed the illusory shield of the Aztec ziggurat. He tried to think of something to hope for, but failed. Whatever happened to those hooligans, happened. - After the third incident of someone tripping over something that it had been too dark to see, the APTTFR had formally moved back into the foyer, and had begun to wind down soon after that. A decent third of the total Aztecs and Greeks had gone back upstairs to their bedrooms, and the remainder were proving that even half an hour of legitimate partying would take a toll on someone following what had been happening for the past several hours. Omet sat by the stairs, one leg bouncing up and down as they kept their eyes trained on the front door with just enough focus to not be noticed for staring. Saralai came over and looked down at them. ¡°Something on your mind?¡± Omet sighed. ¡°Guess I¡¯m not good at looking calm, huh?¡± ¡°Nope. To be fair, it¡¯s not hard to guess. I mean, you just burned basically every last bridge we had left. You really think we can go it alone?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be honest,¡± said Omet, ¡°I don¡¯t¨C¡± The ceiling of the pyramid exploded, halting all sound within in its tracks and raining debris down on the Aztecs and Greeks. A moment later, a fridge-sized, dark green canister plummeted through the hole at the top, slamming into the middle of the floor with a deafening clang. Struts emerged from the bottom of the canister, anchoring it to the cracked floor, and a small yellow indicator light on its side turned red. Blinding white smoke erupted from the canister as it instantly detonated, filling the now-obscured room with a cacophony of light pings and thuds, shrapnel burying itself in anything it made contact with. The force of the blast and the wave of smoke hurled Omet to the ground and half-deafened them. Omet stumbled to their knees, eyes watering from the smoke filling their vision. ¡°I¨CIs everyone okay? Are we¨C?¡± An anti-tank missile flew through the front doors, the hazy orange light of its flame trail passing right by Omet as it connected with the spiral stairs and blew them to pieces. The shockwave of the explosion pushed Omet back to the ground. Before they had the chance to stand back up, a stream of automatic fire emerged from somewhere outside the now-open front doors, panning from right to left in a wide, chest-high arc. If anyone was hit, they did not have the time to make a noise. Omet peered through the smoke, desperately trying to see through the impenetrable cloud of smoke and hear over the growing sounds of helicopter rotors filling the air. They managed to take three shaky steps before being stopped in their tracks by something flying past their vision. Fired through the hole in the ceiling in perfect unison, three anchors buried themselves in the floor in front of Omet, the cables that they were connected to pulling taut and rising vertically into the smoke above Omet¡¯s head. Omet turned and ran when they heard the rising metallic screeches of people sliding down the steel cables. A moment later, they heard six pairs of heavy boots land on the floor, followed by a volley of gunfire in all directions. A cloud of buckshot flew through the smoke a few feet from Omet¡¯s head, and they instinctively dove to the floor. The boots worn by the attackers made it easy to hear where they were relative to Omet. They scrambled away from the barely visible silhouette of one of the Huntsmen as the masked figure ran through the impenetrable smoke. Shrieks of shock and terror echoed throughout the foyer and balcony above as breaching charges went off all over the outside walls, creating yet more openings for Huntsmen to penetrate the building through the bedrooms on the upper floors. The Huntsman near Omet, hearing someone yelp from somewhere nearby, turned and vanished into the smoke. A moment later, a gunshot rang out from where the Huntsman had moved to. More gunshot sounds quickly joined the first, coming from every direction in rapid succession. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. A beam of light lanced through the smoke, burning a hole clean through the chest of the Huntsman near Omet, who silently collapsed to the floor. Saralai emerged from the smoke next to Omet, eyes and hands burning with golden radiance. ¡°You okay?¡± Omet nodded shakily. ¡°Wh¨C what about the rest?¡± ¡°I see them,¡± said Saralai. ¡°Stay low.¡± ¡°I¨C¡± Saralai¡¯s hand snapped to the right. A split second later, a Huntsman emerged from the smoke right in front of Saralai¡¯s outstretched arm. They attempted to raise their shotgun, but another beam of light from Saralai fused the molten plexiglass of their gas mask¡¯s visor to their face. Saralai scowled as the Huntsman fell to the floor. ¡°These idiots think they can hide from us with a little smoke?¡± ¡°I¨CI don¡¯t think it¡¯s to hide them from us¡­¡± mumbled Omet. Saralai vanished into the smoke without another word, her presence only occasionally betrayed by subsequent flashes of light. Omet crawled along the floor while the sounds of gunfire and cries of pain and fear echoed around them. A Greek flew over their head, surfing on a flying platform of silverware with a dozen more knives and forks hovering next to her head and poised to strike forward. Omet discovered an Aztec lying on the floor, gold soaking into his shirt from a knife wound in his ribs. His heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open when Omet crawled into his view. ¡°Hey¡­ it¡¯s you. You got any ideas on how to get us through this?¡± Omet flinched as a Huntsman staggered past them through the smoke, flowering petunias sprouting from every single crack in their body armor. They turned back to their wounded brother. ¡°I, uh¡­ I¡¯m gonna get you out of here, alright? Just hold on another minute.¡± ¡°W¨CWhat about the r¡­ rest?¡± ¡°I¡­ Just¡­¡± Omet struggled to hoist the Aztec onto their shoulder. ¡°I¨CI can¡¯t¡­¡± Omet heard the sound of boots approaching from the front and hurriedly dropped themself and their brother to the ground, trying their best to not move as the Huntsman stepped over their bodies. While Omet tried to pull the wounded Aztec back up, they saw a flash in the smoke that made their vision swim and their ears ring, followed by three shotgun blasts in quick succession. ¡°My head is full of something,¡± mumbled the Aztec as Omet picked them back up. ¡°Yeah, okay, keep talking.¡± Once Omet started pulling the Aztec along again, they realized that they didn¡¯t even know where they were going, or if they were even moving in a straight line. The constant sounds of shotgun blasts and heavy footsteps ringing out around them removed any sense of distance or direction. The indistinct shape of an Aztec lay on the floor to Omet¡¯s side, a jagged shard of dark green metal embedded in their chest. Omet stared at the body on the floor in horror as they stumbled past. ¡°Stay in the middle! Form a circle!¡± came Saralai¡¯s voice from somewhere to Omet¡¯s right. ¡°Keep people on your sides! Follow the lights!¡± ¡°What lights?!¡± responded another voice. ¡°I can¡¯t see an¨C!¡± Another shotgun blast from the same position. ¡°Get out of the house!¡± yelled an Aztec. ¡°They¡¯re coming from the air, we need to put distance between us on the ground!¡± Rachna stumbled past Omet, hugging himself tightly as he switched rapidly between the appearances of people who Omet did not recognize. ¡°The sighted go unheard, for the kings of the blind cannot understand that the world¡¯s gone blue¡­¡± Omet heard a metal door slam shut, then followed the sound until they found the wall of the foyer and the door to the pantry. They pounded on the door with one free hand. Their knocking was drowned out by the sound of the opposite wall shattering into pieces. A shockwave scattered the smoke filling the building, scattering it to the upper levels and clearing the air of the foyer. The four or five remaining Greeks, clustered near the middle of the room, watched as a nightmarish, unnatural creature stepped through the hole in the wall. Eyeless sockets glowed with pale blue light above a fanged mouth that dominated the Chosen¡¯s horselike face. The tips of razor-sharp vertebrae pushed through the ashen gray skin that looked pulled over the Chosen¡¯s skeleton without a shred of muscle to be found. Lightning arced between the spindly limbs of the Chosen, rippling what little hair could be found on its head and back with untamed energy. Saralai mouthed something to herself, then glanced at Omet, terror in her eyes. Omet swallowed and nodded, confirming the worst. The creature that had once been the leader of the Greeks padded forward, an echoing scream building behind its fangs and its skin crackling with electricity. With the smoke cleared, the two or three Huntsmen still on the ground floor noticed Omet by the door and began advancing on them. Behind Omet, the pantry door opened and a hand reached through, grabbing Omet by the collar and pulling them through the partially-open door with the wounded Aztec in tow. One Huntsman raised their shotgun and fired at their retreating target, but only succeeded in striking the wounded Aztec¡¯s leg. The door was hurriedly shut and barred behind Omet the moment they were all the way through. A moment later, a shotgun blast pinged off of the heavy metal, followed by the sound of a thunderclap and rattling silverware. Omet glanced around at the three Aztecs who had already hidden in the pantry before them. ¡°Are you guys alr¨C?¡± Their eyes went wide and they looked down at the Aztec that they had pulled in with them. ¡°Wait, is your¡­ leg¡­¡± They stared at the Aztec¡¯s glassy-eyed, motionless expression. ¡°¡­Oh.¡± The crack under the pantry door flashed over and over, each one followed with ever-increasing sounds of explosions and lightning strikes. One Aztec tugged twice at the ventilation grille on the far wall of the pantry before finally managing to pull it loose. ¡°Someone said that they¡¯re focusing on the inside. We need to get outside and make it to the trees, they won¡¯t be able to track us.¡± Omet silently begged for Mark and Waia to return and get them all out. ¡°Alright, uh¡­ But wh¨Cwhat about th¨Cthe¡­ This¡­¡± ¡°Omet, c¡¯mon,¡± pleaded the Aztec by the grille. ¡°You can worry about the rest later, but right now, all we can do is try to¨C¡± The far wall exploded inwards, creating a six-foot-wide hole to the outside. The Aztec was knocked over by the blast and partially buried by the falling rubble. He made no attempt to stand back up. A gold-covered Huntsman stepped through the hole and over the body of the Aztec, pumping their shotgun and ejecting a shell casing. The opaque eye coverings of their gas mask glinted with the light of the three terrified Primoi in front of them. Omet heard the sound of a cutting torch beginning to melt through the bar that held the pantry door in place. This led to the realization that the sound of lightning strikes had completely ceased. Omet stepped between the remaining Aztecs and the Huntsman in front of them, hands behind their head. They noticed the Huntsman shift their grip on their shotgun. ¡°Look, I¨CI don¡¯t know what you want, but please, don¡¯t hurt my family. Whatever you want from us, we can give it to you, just don¡¯t kill any more of us. We¡¯ll work with you, you can even take me, if it means you don¡¯t¨C¡± The Huntsman raised their shotgun and fired. Chapter 36 Waia flicked the barrier in the doorway and watched the white ripples flicker across the doorway. ¡°This is dumb. If Deus doesn¡¯t want anyone in there except him, why shift the rules around so that humans can get in? I know he¡¯s weird about them and all that, but I still don¡¯t think he¡¯d want them touching his stuff.¡± Quet rhythmically tapped a stone in the palm of her hand, making another stone on the ground leap around like cooking popcorn. ¡°Dunno, maybe he thought of the rule in his head and phrased it weird. Primus powers aren¡¯t known for their loopholes, but you probably shouldn¡¯t keep trying to look for answers after the day we¡¯ve had so far.¡± ¡°I need something to think about. We¡¯ve been here for ages!¡± ¡°Mark left thirty seconds ago,¡± said Quet. Waia rolled her eyes and went back to flicking the barrier. ¡°Thirty seconds, yeah right¡­¡± ¡°I can check my time-stone if you want proof,¡± added Quet. ¡°Your ti¨C? Just get a watch!¡± ¡°Nah.¡± Omet sat off to the side, listening to Quet and Waia argue. They glanced over at Horan, who floated a few feet off the edge of the ledge and stared up into the clouds. ¡°Hey, you still in there?¡± Horan twisted around to bring Omet into his narrow field of view. ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°Sorry, uh¡­¡± Omet cleared their throat. ¡°I just¡­ Things are pretty crazy right now, and I know a lot¡¯s been going through your head, the same¡¯s true for everybody. Mark¡¯s mad at you, Quet¡¯s probably a little mad at you, but I just want you to know that I don¡¯t blame you¡­ for¡­¡± They raised their voice to attract Quet and Waia¡¯s attention and pointed to the bridge that led out of the hole. ¡°Hey, who¡¯s that?¡± Waia turned to look at what Omet pointed at, and stiffened when she saw it. Torch slowly walked across the first of the bridges, pearl mask staring at all before them. But the way that they walked was different, unfamiliar. Instead of the usual graceful, reserved stride that kept everything below the neck engulfed within their cloak, Torch strolled with visibly unfamiliar casualness and confidence, struggling to avoid tripping over the slats in the wooden bridge. Omet glanced at Waia. ¡°That the one?¡± ¡°It¡¯s the one,¡± confirmed Waia, not taking her gaze off of Torch. Torch noticed the four Primoi staring at them and stopped for a moment. When they spoke, they possessed neither the soulless facsimile of emotion that Torch displayed, nor the cadence of an actual person. They spoke like an alien who was putting emotion into their voice for the first time. The only way one could tell it was Torch¡¯s voice was because it was coming from behind their mask. Without that indicator, it could have come from anyone. Nevertheless, it sounded familiar. ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d notice me. Evening, everyone.¡± Waia stepped away from the doorway and clenched her fists. ¡°Looks like we were right about this place. It was a setup. Where¡¯re the rest of your goons? Hiding behind the trees and waiting to shoot us when you give the order? Because you tried that a few¨C¡± Torch held up a hand, their fingers dangling limply. ¡°I¡¯m here alone, so calm down. This thing certainly isn¡¯t here to have a tea party with you, if it helps.¡± ¡°You better not be,¡± said Waia, taking a single step forward. ¡°Ooh, scary.¡± Torch began to step forward as well, but stopped and brought a hand to their chest. ¡°Oh, hey, that¡¯s a new one! My word, this thing¡¯s certainly got an opinion or two on you.¡± ¡°What¡­ thing?¡± growled Waia, shifting her foot stance impatiently. Torch shrugged and waved their hand up and down in front of their head and torso. ¡°All this. In case you¡¯re too stupid to tell, I¡¯m not the one who¡¯s usually behind the eyes in this thing. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re all dying to have a heart-to-heart with a corpse I found in a ditch outside Wells-next-the-Sea, but I¡¯d like to have a few words with you all first. A few words as myself, that is.¡± ¡°You¡¯re testing my patience,¡± said Waia, with an obviously fake veneer of calm. Behind her, Horan and Omet exchanged a worried look. ¡°I won¡¯t be long,¡± responded whoever was behind Torch¡¯s mask. ¡°Just a couple formalities before I let you all get down to business. You clearly have yet to put the pieces together, somehow, so let me just point out that yes, it was me who handed you that old car. I¡¯m genuinely not sure how the green one hasn¡¯t interrupted me to point that out.¡± ¡°Wait, that was you?¡± asked Quet. ¡°My point exactly. I shan¡¯t complain about your predictability, but it does get so dreadfully boring to hear you all speak sometimes.¡± The person in Torch¡¯s body sighed and continued to slowly walk across the bridge. ¡°I would introduce myself at this point, as is proper, but I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s still a topic I¡¯m working on. You have my brother to thank for that little stunt. And no, do not call me Esparza. It was the first name I could think of that would make it seem like this thing came from this sand-pile of a country.¡± Omet looked between Horan, Quet and Waia. ¡°W¨CWhat do you want from us? I¡¯d prefer if we didn¡¯t have to try and kill each other right now.¡± ¡°Not happening,¡± said Waia. The person in Torch¡¯s body shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s not something you need to think too hard about. You¡¯re all under the impression that I¡¯ve come here because I want to do some drawn-out negotiations¨C as if I would ever stoop so low¨C when I really do just want to keep this brief. This is only my¡­ fifth time in this body, and sure, it does what it needs to be an avatar of my will, but the whole ¡®reanimated corpse¡¯ thing sucks. It hurts everywhere in this thing.¡± ¡°Then get this over with and bring back Torch,¡± said Waia icily. ¡°Don¡¯t waste our time.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± said the stranger, as they arrived at the end of the first bridge and stepped onto the nearest of the pillars. ¡°I could never waste the opportunity to make use of a good disappointment. To see your resolve crumble as tragedy after inescapable tragedy strikes you? I wouldn¡¯t miss it for the world!¡± Omet saw Horan glance at them, and tried to avoid making it clear that they had noticed. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡± The stranger chuckled and shook their head. ¡°I keep being surprised by how gullible you become when you¡¯re desperate. Seriously, you¡¯re so starved for a win that you held out hope that, out of the hundreds of decoy sites all over the world, this one would be the one that hides your saving grace? Yeah, no. You won¡¯t find the Seraphium¡¯s real hiding spot¨C name wasn¡¯t my idea, by the way¨C in a hundred million years. And no, I¡¯ve made sure you won¡¯t be making it that far, immortal or no¡­ So, all in all, I just wanted to let you know that you¡¯re being watched, and you¡¯re doing a great job of being watchable. Toodle pip!¡± Torch¡¯s posture stiffened and their arms retreated to their sides, making their armored lower body vanish behind their cloak. They adjusted their hood before continuing towards the four Primoi in a calm, reserved stride. ¡°Greetings. My progenitor¡¯s¡­ introductions have concluded, and we may commence with single combat.¡± They whistled and their sword flew from the sling on their back and into their single outstretched hand. ¡°You are to begin your approach.¡± Waia shifted into her true form and took two steps forward before Omet put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at them, scowling. ¡°What?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°We¡¯re with you all the way, just remember th¨C¡± ¡°If I see any of you take a single step off this platform,¡± responded Waia, ¡°I¡¯ll throw your dead body into the hole once I¡¯m done. Understood?¡± Omet withdrew their hand and stepped away from Waia. ¡°Thanks.¡± Waia turned and sprinted across the first bridge, crossing the distance between her and Torch in record speed. Torch maintained their slow pace, eyelike slit in their mask staring unblinkingly at the approaching Primus. Waia bounded over one of the fifty-foot pillars in a little over a second. ¡°I know you saw me at the city! Do you recognize me? Do you know what you did?!¡± Torch continued their calm walk in silence. ¡°If you won¡¯t answer me now, then I¡¯ll beat a confession out of you!¡± Waia lunged the rest of the distance between herself and Torch, one fist pulled back. Torch ducked to the side, the punch barely missing their head. When Waia swung in a horizontal arc with her free hand, they ducked low. When she brought a knee up to strike them in the chin, they leapt backwards and landed ten feet away with their sword held out defensively. Waia launched herself forward again, only for Torch to push her aside with the flat of their blade and deflect her off to the side. Waia landed and immediately redirected her momentum back towards, and was then deflected once again in the exact same manner. ¡°Would you stop that?!¡± Waia swung at Torch¡¯s head over and over, with each lightning-fast blow dodged and sidestepped with no visible sign of effort. She roared and jabbed at Torch¡¯s chest, which they blocked at the last second with their sword. Torch skidded backwards a full three feet, but maintained their defensive posture with the rigidity of a statue. ¡°You repeat the futile,¡± noted Torch while Waia slammed into their raised blade over and over, each time knocking them closer and closer to the edge of the pillar. ¡°You deny your purpose, as if doing so will alter the course of the plan.¡± ¡°Shut it!¡± Waia swiped Torch¡¯s sword aside and slammed her fist into the thin armor plating that protected their sternum. Torch flew over the seemingly bottomless pit and landed on one of the other pillars, a smoking dent in their chest. They tumbled over the smooth stone and landed face-down in the middle of the pillar. Waia shook her hand out and planted her feet wide, preparing to jump. ¡°You just gonna play prevent defense until I get tired? Stand up and fight!¡± Torch staggered to their feet, sword still in one hand, and slowly approached the edge of the pillar, looking down at Waia. With the sound of crumpling metal, the dent in their chest popped back into place without a scratch. Several dozen lines of tiny, illegible text lit up with a dim blue light on the inside of their cloak. ¡°As you wish.¡± Torch vanished in a lightning-fast burst of light, leaving a faint outline of their silhouette where they had been. In an instant, they appeared in front of Waia, sword already swinging at her abdomen. Waia was sent hurtling to the edge of the pillar, gold streaming from the gash in her stomach. She brought her feet down to the ground as she tumbled through the air, attempting to anchor herself in place before she went over the edge. Two shallow trails of molten stone followed her boots as she dragged herself to a halt. Before she could fully right herself, Torch blinked in front her again, sword coming down on her head in a vertical swing. Waia grabbed the blade and tried to hold it in place. One leg swept back to steady herself, then melted the stone beneath it. A trail of lava flowed up Waia¡¯s back and onto her arms, coalescing into a fresh pair of armored gauntlets. Torch renewed their assault on Waia with an impossibly fast barrage of teleport-strikes, blinking between swings with enough speed to leave behind a trail of ghostly blue outlines that looked like they were attacking Waia on their own. Waia desperately attempted to keep up with the flurry of frontal sword swings, deflecting each strike with one gauntlet before immediately pivoting to block the next. The unrelenting pressure continually forced her back step-by-step, requiring all of her focus to maintain her footing while maintaining an unbroken defense. Eventually, Torch pushed her far enough back that one foot slipped on the edge of the pillar, making her lose her balance momentarily. Torch struck like a viper, pushing their sword past Waia¡¯s raised gauntlets and gashing the side of her neck. Waia roared with indignation and surged away from the pillar¡¯s edge, batting Torch¡¯s sword aside before bringing her leg up and kicking them in the gut. Torch was sent tumbling to the far side of the pillar, and before they had the chance to come to a stop, Waia leapt into the air and sailed towards them, one gauntlet pulled back in anticipation. Torch gripped their sword and whistled. The sword took off into the air of its own accord and pulled a prone Torch out of harm¡¯s way a moment before Waia impacted the ground where they had been. Torch let go of the sword mid-air, which spun around and swooped towards Waia, angling its blade to face her. Waia put her gauntleted hand in the sword¡¯s path and grabbed it out of the air as it raced towards her gold-stained throat. Waia looked past the struggling sword to see Torch¡¯s cloak billowing around their airborne form like the wings of a circling vulture. While her attention was momentarily elsewhere, the sword jerked to the side, pulling her arm away from her face just in time for Torch to blink forward and punch her in the jaw. A shockwave of blue energy erupted from the point of contact, slamming Waia down into the floor with enough force to crack the stone beneath her back. Torch flipped through the air, landed gracefully back on the ground, and whistled. The sword yanked itself out of Waia¡¯s grip, slashed her across the face, and returned to Torch¡¯s hand. Horan¡¯s attention to the duel in front of him was broken when he saw Quet rifling through her pockets. ¡°¡­What are you doing? She said not to interfere!¡± ¡°Waia¡¯s getting diced like an onion,¡± mumbled Quet. ¡°I just need something to¡­ no, no, useless, useless, useless¡­¡± Her breathing grew ragged and her fingers writhed as she searched. Omet nudged Horan from the side. ¡°Can you maybe just¡­ I dunno, nudge one of them to the side where it counts? Tip the scales a little?¡± Horan took a deep breath. ¡°Let me see what I can do¡­¡± Waia leapt to her feet and charged at Torch, the lava on the tips of her fingers sharpening into talons. Right before she made contact and pinned them in place, Torch blinked to Waia¡¯s side and brought their blade forward in a decapitating strike. The instant before their sword made contact with Waia¡¯s throat, a blast of wind shoved it up and over her head, passing by harmlessly. Waia glared at Horan¡¯s raised arms for a split second before whipping around and swiping at Torch, scoring a shallow gash in their shoulder. Torch leapt away from Waia¡¯s second swing, sword raised defensively. ¡°What motivates you to continue fighting against that which you know cannot be stopped?¡± Waia clawed at Torch¡¯s raised sword, attempting to get past it and grab their mask. ¡°As if you don¡¯t know! Just go ahead and admit that you don¡¯t remember me!¡± Torch blinked to the side and lunged at Waia, only to find their sword thrust blocked by the open palm of Waia¡¯s hand. ¡°What did you do that led to you being deemed so important as to warrant a personal greeting from my progenitor?¡± Waia shoved Torch¡¯s sword aside and backhanded them across the face. ¡°Answer me!¡± Torch stumbled away from Waia, bringing one hand up to their face to ensure that their mask had not slipped. ¡°You were recognized in the crowd at Cuernav¨C¡± Waia slammed into Torch at full speed, the armor around their chest crumpling like paper in her two-handed grip as she lifted them off the ground, still running ahead at full tilt. The two of them went over the side of the pillar, plummeting down towards the darkness with Torch still trapped in Waia¡¯s vice grip. A moment before the two of them vanished from sight, Torch blinked up above the pillars, dragging Waia with them. Waia clawed and tore at Torch¡¯s armor in frenzied desperation, while Torch blinked from place to place at an increasingly rapid pace, their desperation becoming clear in kind. The air above the pit was filled with dozens and dozens of flashes and fleeting silhouettes as Torch tried as hard as they could to shake Waia off. Eventually, Waia managed to grab hold of Torch¡¯s glowing cloak, halting the barrage of uncoordinated teleportation. She yanked a fistful of black velvet back, pulling Torch off-balance, spun around in the air, and hurled Torch down into the ground. Torch landed face-first on the pillar closest to Horan, Quet and Omet¡¯s platform with a loud crunch. Their mask shattered to pieces, lacerating their face as they struggled to gather the strength to rise. Waia landed on the bridge leading to the pillar, making it sway dangerously from the impact. She stared down at Torch, breathing heavily, as blood leaked from their face onto the floor. ¡°I¡­ I win¡­ I always win¡­¡± Torch whistled and called their sword into their hand, pointing the tip down and using it as a support to stand up. ¡°Those masks are irreplaceable, and you destroy them again and again...¡± ¡°Shame, isn¡¯t it?¡± Huffed Waia. ¡°Now, unless you feel like making things best of three, I would recommend that you hold still and let me finish this.¡± Torch struggled to their feet and turned to face Waia, their face covered in blood. They took three slow steps forward, coming to the edge of the bridge on which Waia stood. ¡°You¡­ You think yourself better than me?¡± Waia flexed the clawed gauntlets on her hands and grinned with exhilaration. ¡°I am better than y¨C¡± ¡°Wrong answer!¡± Torch sliced through the ropes connecting the bridge to the pillar. A split second of confused dread on her face was all that Waia managed to muster before the bridge fell out from under her and she plummeted out of sight. Chapter 37 Torch turned away from the hanging remains of the bridge and looked back at Horan, Quet and Omet, their bloody face grim. They removed their torn cloak and shut their eyes for a moment, standing still. Horan traced a line of glyphs in the air and summoned a sword into his hand. ¡°¡­Whatever we do, we can¡¯t let them get through us to Mark.¡± Quet rifled through her pockets with increased desperation. ¡°Just¡­ Something to stop¡­¡± ¡°Are you nuts?¡± Horan¡¯s gaze switched rapidly between Quet and Torch. ¡°They¡¯re gonna tear you to shreds!¡± Omet looked down at Horan¡¯s sword in bafflement. ¡°Then what are you doing?!¡± ¡°I¨CI don¡¯t¨C¡± Torch opened their eyes. ¡°Correct. My purpose here is not complete.¡± They slowly began to walk towards the three Primoi in front of them. ¡°The penultimate component has yet to be directed.¡± Omet stepped forward. ¡°Look, I¨C J¨CJust don¡¯t kill us, okay? We don¡¯t want anything to do with whatever grand plan you¡¯re a part of, we¡¯re more than willing to get out of your way if it means my family can¨C¡± ¡°Incorrect,¡± said Torch, wiping blood out of their eyes and clutching their ribs with their free hand. ¡°Subsequent discovery of the current status of the Aztec Domain will invariably lead to attempted retribution, regardless of present demeanour.¡± Quet¡¯s eyes went wide and her search through her pockets stopped. ¡°¡­What¡¯re you¡­?¡± Torch winced. ¡°A delay in the fulfillment of my assignment is¡­ not recommended. Haste will be prioritized if psychological destabilization becomes imminent. You are to stay put and allow me to finish my duty.¡± Omet walked forward and held their arms out to their side, attempting to block sight of Horan and Quet. ¡°We¡¯re not doing anything like that. You aren¡¯t going to kill my friends if I have anything to say about it.¡± They glanced back at the two Primoi standing frozen behind them. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine. All three of you. I promise.¡± ¡°Even if you presently had access to your abilities,¡± said Torch, still calmly walking forward, ¡°you would be incapable of harming me, even temporarily.¡± ¡°Big talk,¡± snarled Omet. ¡°You really think it¡¯s that easy? Killing someone?¡± ¡°Over the course of the one thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven days of my existence, I have personally ended a total of two hundred and fifty-one sentient lives. The number of those dead by my order is at least two orders of magnitude greater.¡± Omet walked forward until they were within arm¡¯s reach of Torch. Their bright purple gaze bored into Torch¡¯s soulless blue eyes. ¡°Answer the question. Do you or do you not see the consequences of what you¡¯ve been doing? Are you proud of what you a¨C?¡± Torch lifted their sword and ran Omet through. Quet gasped and fell backwards, struggling to take another breath. Horan stood stock-still, eyes flashing sporadically. Omet coughed and stumbled, collapsing to the ground with one hand weakly gripping the blade buried in their sternum. Torch listened to the frail, desperate gasps coming from the Primus at their feet. After a moment, they gripped the handle of their sword and pulled it out of Omet, provoking a long, slow rasp. ¡°It is na?vet¨¦ to think of yourself as anything other than the two hundred and twenty-second. My duties do not accommodate those who consider themselves special.¡± They wiped a smear of blood off of their face and stepped over Omet, looking at Horan and Quet. ¡°Do any of you feel like acting special, or has my point been proven?¡± Through the stuttering flash of his eye, Horan looked down at Quet on the ground next to him. ¡°A¨CAny tricks you might wanna bring out right now? Any convenient powers?¡± Quet curled up and wrapped her arms around her head, utterly silent. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Torch shifted their grip on their sword and clutched their side as they stepped onto the bridge leading to Quet and Horan¡¯s platform. ¡°There will be no¨C¡± With the sound of a gunshot, something sped past Horan¡¯s head, impacting Torch¡¯s face. Torch stumbled backwards, their head reduced to a roiling mass of bloodless flesh and shattered bone. Cracks spiderwebbed across their armor, revealing blinding chasms of blue light. Torch began to tip over the edge of the bridge, their sword. Their arms and legs snapped into new, unnatural angles with loud cracks before eventually returning to their natural positions. The cracks in the armor hastily sealed themselves back up, and the indistinct blob that had once been Torch¡¯s head folded into itself, then spat out the splintered remains of a bullet onto the ground. With what looked like great effort, Torch¡¯s head reconstituted their face. Torch grabbed at the bridge and attempted to steady themself, but a weak gust of wind sent them toppling over the side and following Waia into the darkness. Horan turned to see Mark standing breathlessly in the doorway behind him, a smoking hunting rifle resting against his shoulder. The flashing in Horan¡¯s eyes came to a stop. Mark let the gun fall to the ground and ran out of the doorway. ¡°It wa¨C Is everyone okay?! Where¡¯s Waia¡­?¡± He spotted Omet lying on the ground a short distance away. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Quet shakily stood up, hands still pulled over her head, and staggered towards Mark. ¡°D¨CDon¡¯t just s¨Cstand there, Omet nee¨C You¡¯re human, y¨Cyou need to focus on Omet o¨Cor¡­¡± Mark rushed over to where Omet was lying and pulled them to the side so that they were lying on their back. He pulled his hand away and looked at their gold-soaked chest wound. ¡°Okay, tha¨C That¡¯s right through the bone¡­¡± Omet smiled. ¡°¡­Hey.¡± ¡°Hey, hey, okay, just¨C¡± ¡°Not you.¡± Omet looked past Mark at Horan and Quet, who were both standing behind him. ¡°¡­Really blew that one, huh?¡± ¡°No, c¡¯mon, it¡¯s¡­¡± Horan knelt down beside Mark, who was busy staring in horror at Omet¡¯s chest. ¡°You didn¡¯t blow anything, you did great. You¡¯re gonna be fine, okay? Mark¡¯s brought me back from the edge before, so thi¨C this is gonna be¨C¡± The chest wound, which had already been shrinking at far too small of a rate, sparked with bright blue light and widened back to its original size. ¡°¡­Flip side,¡± mumbled Omet, ¡°it hurts less than you¡¯d expect.¡± Mark desperately waved his hands over the wound, as if he could end up casting a spell through random guesswork. ¡°C¡¯mon, c¡¯mon, just work!¡± Omet sighed, winced, and let their head fall back on the ground. ¡°Odds are, I¡­ I won¡¯t make it back home, so¨C¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± snapped Horan. ¡°Just hold on!¡± ¡°¡­So, uh, sorry I can¡¯t be there to help you guys with the rest of all this. Not like I could¡¯ve¡­¡± Omet let out a ragged sigh. ¡°Guess they were right on quite a few fronts, huh? This is what we get for thinking that we get to be the exception¡­¡± Mark brought his hands away from Omet¡¯s chest and attempted to slide his hands under Omet¡¯s shoulders. ¡°C¡¯mon, we need to take them home, someone migh¨C there might be something we can do there.¡± Omet gritted their teeth and screwed their eyes shut as Mark and Horan lifted them up by their shoulders and legs. Once they were able to think through the pain again, they looked to the side and saw Quet nervously shuffling next to the funeral procession, eyes fixed on the ground in front of her and hands stuffed into her pockets. They tried to make eye contact with her, opened their mouth to speak, then turned and looked away. A few minutes later, the four managed to exit the pit and came across the ruined hulk of the borrowed car, sky-blue flames leaping into the sky from twisted metal. After a moment of stunned staring at what had been too good to be true, Omet struggled to clear their throat. ¡°Can¡­ Can you two put me down?¡± Mark and Horan complied, setting Omet against a nearby dead tree. Quet continued to stand off to the side, but after a moment of silence, she sat cross-legged next to Omet, with her hands balled into fists and her head turned away from her sibling. Mark and Horan soon joined her, forming a row in front of the burning car. Omet stared into and past the blue fire in front of them. ¡°¡­So, past thirty minutes aside, how was everyone¡¯s day?¡± Mark and Horan stared at Omet in bafflement, but before either could say anything, Quet responded. ¡°Well, uh, most of it was spent doing things that I would rather swap out for something less productive, but my day had a couple standout moments. I won¡¯t forget them, I swear¡­ How about you?¡± ¡°Oh, you know.¡± Omet struggled to manage a shrug. ¡°Got knocked down a few pegs, tried to do my best to be who I was supposed to be, saw a bunch of dead bodies. In no particular order.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± A moment later, Quet shuffled closer to Omet and took their hand in her own. Omet looked down at the gesture, then up at Quet, and smiled. ¡°Appreciate it.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± Mark looked up at the sky. ¡°I miss the stars.¡± Omet chuckled weakly. ¡°Don¡¯t we all?¡± Chapter 38 Quet hugged her cardigan tightly around her chest as she, Mark and Horan came up on the location of her house. Where it had been the evening before, that was. The scorched remains of already-dead trees formed an extended perimeter around the shattered ruin of the once-mighty ziggurat. Blocks of rubble and bits of furniture cradled the cinders of a home, some of which still smoked by the time the three survivors arrived. While Mark and Horan stared out at the ruin in silence, Quet noticed a figure pacing around in the middle of the rubble. Or¡­ Possibly multiple figures. Whenever one silhouette vanished behind a chunk of stone, a different one emerged from the other side. Quet slowly approached the figure, stepping onto a foundation riddled with bullet holes, craters, and puddles of hardened gold. As she approached the center of the ruin, Rachna sighed and turned to face her, twisting into the shape of a white-eyed Omet. Quet stood in front of the Indian, stony-faced. ¡°Morning.¡± ¡°The reckoning could not be postponed indefinitely,¡± responded Rachna. ¡°That¡¯s what the voices keep saying, at least. Not up to me to say if it¡¯s true or not.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve been told,¡± said Quet. She looked around at the ruins surrounding her, and spotted Mark and Horan approaching her before she turned back to Rachna. ¡°Well, no use being a bummer over it now. You¡¯re the guy who keeps talking about stuff that nobody knows anything about. Where to now?¡± ¡°Rainier. Evergreen. Stars and Stripes. North America. Earth.¡± Quet shrugged. ¡°Guess I shouldn¡¯t have expected any better, huh?¡± Rachna sighed and pointed northwest. ¡°Precisely three thousand seven hundred kilometers that way, as the vulture flies. Not a solution, but directions towards one, at the bare minimum.¡± Mark walked up beside Quet and looked over at the blank-faced copy of Omet in front of him. ¡°So¡­ What? Just start walking? Is that your suggestion for what we do now?¡± Rachna nodded and sat cross-legged on the ground. ¡°Unsurprisingly, alternatives aren¡¯t particularly cultivated.¡± He looked up at Mark. ¡°You¡¯ll be there soon, either way. Might as well get the slight chance of being there on our terms instead of theirs.¡± Quet looked around at the surrounding ruins. ¡°I¡­ see gold. Where are the bodies?¡± ¡°And, actually¡­¡± Horan hesitantly raised his hand and stepped past Mark. ¡°How come you survived? Did anyone else make it?¡± ¡°Nope,¡± stated Rachna, bluntly. ¡°The mooks certainly gave it the old college try, of course. But I only have bones to break and organs to rupture when I feel like it, as is the standard. Eventually one of my ¡®family¡¯ ¡®members¡¯ heard about me down here and got someone to call things off.¡± ¡°Figures,¡± muttered Quet. ¡°So, I guess that leaves you with us n¨C¡± ¡°Wrong again,¡± said Rachna, retracting his legs into his chest and growing out a new pair so that he was standing. ¡°Not much point. No safety that isn¡¯t guaranteed, no escape for any save the permitted. We¡¯re all stuck here, what part of the cage we¡¯re in doesn¡¯t matter.¡± A fleshy tendril snaked out of Rachna¡¯s ankle and wormed its way into a crack in the foundation. As his form began to liquefy and flow down into the crack, he grew two extra pairs of eyes on his forehead and locked eyes with all three people in front of him at once. ¡°This is our life now. Don¡¯t try to run. It¡¯ll follow.¡± And the last of him was gone. Mark was the first to say anything. ¡°¡­I just realized why the name sounded familiar. Rachna was the name of a hallucinatory manifestation of my own conscience when I was starved of oxygen back in Istanbul¡­ I think I prefer that version of him.¡± Quet looked away from the crack that Rachna had slipped into. ¡°Well, he gave us a direction and a distance. That¡¯s most of what we need already! Off we go!¡± She began striding through the ruins, heading northwest. Horan nervously watched Quet walk off, eye fixed on the gold-rimmed cut in the back of her cardigan. ¡°Wha¡­ Just immediately? Nothing you need to do here first?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll only slow me down!¡± declared Quet. ¡°No bummers! We¡¯ve got vengeance to carry out, and so help me, I¡¯m not wasting a second doing it!¡± ¡°¡­No loss of hope or anything? You¡¯re just gonna bounce right to the next thing?¡± ¡°The hope has already been lost, and so we will have to go on without it!¡± Quet took six confident steps away from Mark and Horan. Her pace slowed down and grew unsteady as she took another three. By the ninth, she had come to a stop. She fell to her knees, planted both hands on the ground, and began to shake. Horan moved as if to approach her, but Mark held his arm out and blocked him. Horan nodded solemnly and stood back. After a minute or so on the ground, Quet stood up, her face still turned away from Mark and Horan. When she spoke, her voice was shaky and strained. ¡°Make yourselves comfortable, I guess. I¡¯ll see what I can find, and then we¡¯re gone.¡± Mark and Horan hesitantly seated themselves on the floor. Quet began to comb through the wreckage, searching for something. Horan turned his head to the left, obscuring Quet from his view as he looked at Mark. ¡°Well, I¡­ guess we can count this as our third ¡®outing¡¯ like this now, huh? Doesn¡¯t really matter what the criteria for that are, we¡¯ve met them by now.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Mark nodded. ¡°You know, why does¡­? No, no. I¡¯ll save that part of the conversation for when Quet¡¯s done.¡± ¡°Sure, yeah.¡± Horan absent-mindedly studied how the dim light of his eye illuminated Mark¡¯s face. ¡°¡­You know, for a few minutes there, when we were at Deus¡¯ pit, I started to get hopeful. I was thinking a little, ¡®Maybe this time we can finally feel like we won more than we lost. Maybe the only thing that gets hurt this time is my pride¡¯. I gotta learn to stop being so optimistic these days.¡± ¡°Everyone figures that out sometime,¡± replied Mark. ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡± Horan looked out at the landscape of ruin and destruction around him. ¡°¡­Is it us? Is it something about you, or me, or both of us together, that makes this happen to people around us? Like, this is twice now that we¡¯ve been abandoned in the wilderness with nothing to our name. My belief in luck can only take so much, and I have to start insisting that someone or something is out to get us.¡± Mark¡¯s mind went back to what he had seen in the innermost chamber of Deus¡¯ fake vault. ¡°Yeah, uh¡­ Deus¡¯ whole color deal is white, right?¡± ¡°Wh¨C?¡± Recognition flashed in Horan¡¯s eye. ¡°Oh, yeah, no, still not hide nor hair of him. I, uh, nobody¡¯s really mentioned this, but when Torch showed up to kill us, before you were able to show up, they were, like¡­ possessed. Whoever was in control was just talking about, I dunno, how much we suck, how we¡¯ll never really find the Seraphium, that kind of thing. Doesn¡¯t really help anyone here understand what¡¯s actually going on, but¡­ I dunno. The idea that there might actually be someone out there causing all this, or at least some of it¡­ I¡¯m actually not sure if it makes me feel better or worse about this.¡± ¡°Yeah, uh¡­¡± Mark decided to discard his planned chain of questions. ¡°Does it really change things? If there¡¯s someone out there possessing Torch like that and making all this happen, who¡¯re we to stop it, right? They¡¯ve done a pretty stellar job of removing any chance we have of making it very far past this point.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Horan folded his arms and stared at the ground. ¡°What did Rachna say? Three thousand something hundred kilometers?¡± ¡°Seven hundred.¡± ¡°Right. And¡­ For what, even? The guy refuses to tell us anything, and he assumes that we¡¯re gonna go ahead and travel north, into the cold, for months, just because he implied that something helpful might be there?!¡± Mark glanced at Quet, who was now well over a hundred feet away from the two of them. ¡°Yeah, okay, I get it, quiet. It¡¯s¡­ I mean, he wasn¡¯t wrong¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re nuts.¡± ¡°Well, if you hav¨C¡± Horan nudged Mark¡¯s arm. ¡°C¡¯mon, dude, you don¡¯t need to try and swing me. We¡¯ve done this a dozen times before. I like nuts.¡± ¡°Right, yeah.¡± Mark hung his head for a moment, then realized something. ¡°But what about¡­?¡± He nodded his head in Quet¡¯s direction. ¡°Seriously? That¡¯s your latest hangup?¡± Horan shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s in. Don¡¯t even need to ask, she¡¯s basically already signed up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the thing I was worried about,¡± said Mark. Horan snorted. ¡°So, what? Scared she¡¯ll get hurt? That we¡¯re putting her in danger?¡± ¡°I just¡­¡± Mark sighed and nodded. ¡°C¡¯mon, Mark, we¡¯re all in danger already. You¡¯re not gonna protect anyone by not asking for help, you¡¯re just gonna die first.¡± Mark looked at the ground. ¡°¡­You were right earlier, huh? There aren¡¯t any good decisions for us to make.¡± Horan nodded solemnly. ¡°All that¡¯s left is damage control and leaps of faith¡­ But it¡¯s not like we were swimming in alternatives before all this.¡± Mark looked up at Horan. ¡°¡­All this?¡± ¡°All this.¡± Horan looked up at the clouds filling the sky. ¡°I think I¡¯ve realized something about what I was really doing before I lost an eye and got thrown into the desert: All the¡­ partying, and the staying at home, and everything that everyone¡¯s been doing for the past few years, and maybe even before that, it was just to avoid¡­¡± Mark gave Horan a moment to continue. ¡°Avoid what?¡± ¡°¡­I dunno. I don¡¯t know much of anything.¡± - According to Quet¡¯s timekeeping glyph, it had taken the group all night to find their way back to where the house had once been. By the same metric, it took the entirety of the following day for Quet to gather everything that she had wanted to. Paraphernalia from all over the ruins had been piled atop a nest of wood, string and whatever other flammable materials Quet could find and carry. The entire monument, almost as tall as Quet, had been piled up as close to the middle of the ruins as Quet could estimate. Quet knelt in front of the monument, holding two dark rocks in her hands. After failing to find anything useful in her pockets¡¯ day-to-day selection of glyphs, she had had to resort to the only way she had heard of to make fire. Quet scraped the rocks together with mounting frustration, ineffectually trying to create sparks without any flint. Just when she was becoming agitated enough to start growling in the back of her throat, she saw something be held out next to her. Mark extended a chrome grill lighter towards Quet, handle held outward. Quet sighed and took Mark¡¯s shapeshifted gun from him with a curt nod. She leaned forward, squeezed the lighter¡¯s trigger to ignite the tip, and held it against the base of the pyre. The flame began to spread after a moment, and Quet stepped back and watched as it engulfed the base of the pyre. Most things on the pyre wouldn¡¯t burn, and the fire would probably burn itself out before it had even managed to consume the entire base. Quet didn¡¯t expect it to. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m doing this,¡± thought Quet aloud. ¡°If I was Waia, we could¡¯ve already headed out.¡± ¡°Well,¡± said Mark, ¡°look how things turned out for her.¡± ¡°I mean, there¡¯s no way she¡¯s dead, it¡¯s not like some hole would kill her, so¡­ Trapped in a pit with a weird flesh-person?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Guess that¡¯s what I meant.¡± After a minute or two of watching the fire slowly spread, Quet turned and headed northwest again. ¡°C¡¯mon. I don¡¯t wanna still be here when the fire stops.¡± Horan nodded and followed her, Mark shortly behind him. ¡°You know we¡¯re probably just gonna die without accomplishing anything if we follow a shapeshifting weirdo¡¯s directions, right?¡± Quet didn¡¯t look back at Horan. ¡°If you have any alternatives, you¡¯re welcome to tell me so that I can ignore them.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± Horan floated forward in order to walk side-by-side with Quet. ¡°Just laying things out for you.¡± ¡°Alright then. But trust me, I understood what¡¯s going to happen to us perfectly well.¡± Taking up the rear of the procession, Mark momentarily glanced back at the ruins of yet another place that had taken him in, then turned and followed the two Primoi into the decaying, burnt forest. Nowhere to go but forwards. Acknowledgements Hello! As you may or may not have noticed, this is the first part of the Primus trilogy (as of writing) to not have a cover. This is because my country''s economy is dogpiss, and inflation has made me unable to feasibly commission covers from artists abroad. Yippee! Nevertheless, if the future cover artist is reading this after I managed to put together enough skrilla to pay them what they''re worth, hello and thank you from the past! This is also the first installment in Primus to be exclusive to RR (I posted the first two to Amazon before realizing that that was stupid and taking them down). It''s unlikely that you, whoever is reading this right now, have actually read through all three parts. I get it, my dashboard says that it currently sits at just shy of 300k words. But if, for whatever reason, you are enough of a lunatic to stick through half a LotR''s worth of insane scribblings, I genuinely can''t thank you enough for sticking by the series. I might not actually know about you and your accomplishment, but I nevertheless sincerely thank you and can''t wait to show you what I have planned for parts 4 and 5. You''ve hung around this long, I think you deserve to see how this all ends. So, uh, see you in maybe 6 months, for when I release the next chunk of this mess. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Next up on Primus You can continue the story of Primus with part 4 of 5: Phantasms of the Sunless Horizon at https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/85919/primus-phantasms-of-the-sunless-horizon. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Only one part left. It''s almost finished. Soon. But if it helps, the finale is likely going to be the longest installment of the series. Unless it still can''t beat CotDB. I have no idea how that one got so out of hand, to be honest.